#until all his tears and feelings spill out

[floralscented]

ㅤ♡ㅤjust a little more, with [ doe!reader ] & [ clark kent ] ㅤ (18+!!)

you always beg him so pretty. tears pouring from your eyes, saliva pooled in the corners of your parted, panting lips, a glossy thin sheen of sweat coating every inch of your soft skin.

clark's thumb traces gingerly over your cheekbone, revenant touches over each part of your face that his large palms can get his fingers on. you've stilled in his lap, legs tired and going numb, pelvis sore.

"c'mon, pretty girl," he mumbles, his thumb trailing its way up to your lip, tracing across the kiss-swollen, pinkened skin. "you can take it," he leans up to nuzzle his cheek against your tearstained one, brushing your hair away from your face with his nose until his lips are against your earlobe.

your head shakes, and you sniffle softly, burying your face into the crook of his shoulder. his free hand finds its way to your thigh, tracing light, mindless shapes on the trembling muscle with his fingernail. "you can, sweet girl," clark insists, tongue tracing along the shell of your ear with his gentle words. "look at me. can you look at me when i'm talkin' to you, angel?"

his fingers trace along your jaw as he guides your head back toward him, forehead to forehead. "there she is," he whispers, just as reverent as his touch is. you're glass to him, even if you don't think it right now. he's terrified to shatter or crack you. "hi," he says with a small, breathless laugh.

"hi," you manage to choke out, your voice gone, your body spent, and clark has the audacity to look at you like he has no intention of stopping, like he'd done nothing at all so far, even though he'd brought you to a violent, trembling orgasm at least four times now. one more, he pressed earlier, when the tears prickling in the corners of your eyes had started to spill, just one more. five's lucky, isn't it?

five didn't feel lucky. five felt like overstimulation, trembling muscles, hot tears sliding down flushed cheeks.

"look how good you're doin' for me, angel," he says, his two fingers taking your chin between them and guiding your head downwards to watch as he shifted his hips, just enough to remind you that he was still buried deep in your swollen pussy. you were sore, and overwhelmed, and the feel of it is just enough to draw a whimper out of your lips. "i know it's a lot, i do, but i also know how strong my pretty girl is."

his praise is enough to relight the fire within you. a second wind, clark'd probably say; a fatal mistake, you'd probably correct.

clark's palm flattens on your thigh when you start to move again on him, slow drawn out circles of your hips, unable to lift yourself too much to properly ride him. still, even just like this, you could feel him stretching you open, even so deep within your wet heat.

his head falls back against the wood of his headboard with a hollow knock, eyes fluttering back open as he watches you through the thick black veil of his eyelashes.

"you're so good to me," he says, his words only slightly slurred through his haze of pleasure, compared to the whimpering, whining mess you were atop him, "jus' a little more, jus' like this, yeah?"

"mhm," you manage through your clenched teeth and pouted lips, letting his hand wrapped around your thigh guide you, support your weight, as your movements become more deliberate.

his lips quirk, dimples punctuating his smile in the soft skin of his cheeks. his hand on your face slips up, up, just enough to press his thumb on your bottom lip and tug it down, slipping the thick digit into your mouth. the pad of it presses ever so slightly down on your tongue, muffling every noise starting back up in the back of your throat.

clark's hips start to lift, meeting each downward grind of your pussy around him with an extra bit of gentleness that he only reserves for you. he could be rougher ─ had been rougher, earlier ─ but he never pushed more than he knew you could take. breaking you in any way was something that he'd never forgive himself for.

except... like this. when even just a couple of deep thrusts into your tight, soaked walls brought those soft sobs out of you again. "shh," he mumbles, his voice roughened with his grunts but still so, so soft for you, "just like this, baby, you're doing so good... just a little more..."

tags. @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @deansbite DO I. HAVE ANY OTHER SMALLVILLE MOOTS IDK PLSSS

doe!reader masterlist found here !

[reds-hoodies]

MINORS DNI 18+

F!Reader

That’s the thing though. GK!Jason wouldn’t be rough with you.

Do you think he’d degrade you? Punish you?

No.

This man thanks every power he can think of for bringing you into his life. Jason sees war on the streets of Gotham every day. He’s been through hell and back. Literally. So he’s grateful for the calm you bring to his chaotic life.

And each night he comes back to you.

Because you are his gospel. A deity tantalizingly spread bare to worship at the altar. And worship he shall.

He’s reverently pressing his thanks into your skin. From the tips of your fingers to the bottoms of your feet. And every sigh you give him is a blessing to his ears.

He’s kissing and nipping the sensitive flesh of your thighs, leaving proof of his devotion as he makes his way to your center where he has you shaking and gasping under his tongue. He drinks from you as if you were made from the finest ambrosia.

But here’s another thing: Jason is unfair.

This man will have you pressed against the comforters, nearly folding you in half as he spears himself into you. He splits you open slowly, slower than you thought was possible because he wants you to feel every inch of him.

And as he bottoms out, he’ll stop. Holding your hips still as you try in vain to rut up to him because, well?

He loves to see you desperate. So pushed to the edge that tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you plead for him to move.

And he thinks, you’ve never looked more gorgeous.

You had begged for his cock though and Jason just couldn’t deny you.

He pulls out, out, out until jut the tip of him is left.. and the slams back in. It rocks the bed.

“Thaaat’s it baby,” He grins, “ You’re doing so well for me.”

You nearly get whiplash, his words are soft and taste like honey but the way he’s slowly pounding into you leaves you a drooling, babbling mess because —somehow— he hits that perfect spot Every. Single. Time.

"Come on," he pants into your mouth, teeth clenching, the wet clap of your hips as he fucks you harder, "Come on, baby. Let me feel it. Let me feel you come."

Your eyes roll back, mouth agape in ecstasy as you shake and clinch around him. And he rides out your orgasm, pressing a large thumb in tight, fast circles into your clit. He’ll keep going, following you as you try to squirm away from him until your pelvis is nearly hovering over the bed because you can’t, you can’t-

His thrusts get a more ragged and desperate edge to them, his hips nearly bruising you at the brutal pace. Until he slams home one last time, shoulders hunching over with a punched out groan as he gives all he can into you. He stuffs you so full it dribbles out the sides where it beads down to mix with your mess on the sheets.

And the last thing? He’s a sap.

Because even after both of you wind down from your high he can’t bear to part with you. He wants to stay locked with you for as long as he can.

He looks at you as if you hung the moon and the stars. He’ll kiss your face, and down to your lips to catch your tired giggles and taste you once more.

You two will get up eventually to clean up, but for now, he’s going to bask in your warmth as you card your fingers through his hair.

[1425fivefive]

omorashi and maxiel or maxcar plsplspls 🙏🙏

omorashi for maxcar! my first piss kink fic, tysm for trusting me!! also if you don't like piss play... pls don't perceive (for the kink prompt ask)

“Max, please, I can’t—” Oscar gasps when Max pushes in anyway, palm pressed against Oscar’s lower belly, right above his cock. Right over his horribly, painfully full bladder.

Oscar really should’ve gone before the race. Should’ve known that Max would do this, drag him into a supply closet and shove him up against the wall, tugging his race suit and fireproofs down just below his arse.

Max fucks in deep and grinds, making Oscar feel it, right as he presses firmly against Oscar’s bladder.

“Stop,” Oscar pants. “Stop, fuck, or I’ll—”

“What?” Max asks calmly, pressing a kiss to Oscar’s neck. “What’ll happen if I don’t stop?”

“I’ll—” Oscar breaks off on a groan when Max digs his thumb into Oscar’s lower belly, a tiny bit of liquid escaping Oscar’s cock. Oscar’s not sure whether it’s pre-come or piss and the thought’s obliteratingly hot, so hot that Oscar lets out a desperate whimper and arches his back, trying to take Max deeper.

Max groans, fucking in hard, his other hand coming up to grab Oscar’s chin, turning his head to pull him in for a wet kiss. Oscar moans into the kiss, breaking off on a frantic whine when a few more drops spill into his fireproofs.

“Max, please, you have to—” Oscar’s cock stings, tears pricking in his eyes. “Fuck Max, you can’t—you’re gonna make me piss myself.”

Max lets out a loud moan, dragging his hand down to squeeze Oscar’s achingly hard cock.

“No, don’t,” Oscar begs, throbbing in Max’s hand. “Don’t do that, please.”

“Why not?” Max asks, nosing at Oscar’s cheek. “You liked it last time.”

Oscar whimpers at the reminder, squeezing his eyes shut. They’d fucked in Max’s hotel room and Oscar hadn’t pissed before, had sort of liked feeling desperate and achey, the edge of pain and embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to, like, actually piss. Just sort of liked getting fucked while he felt desperate, the adrenaline and shame of knowing he might be too overwhelmed to hold it.

But Max had shoved Oscar onto his hands and knees and fucked him deep and slow, brought Oscar to the edge over and over again until Oscar was sobbing on his cock. When Max pulled Oscar up by his hair and wrapped a hand around Oscar’s throat, other hand splayed over Oscar’s stomach, Oscar cried and begged Max to stop, begged Max to let Oscar go to the toilet and take a piss.

Max had gone silent behind him and Oscar panicked, thought he’d grossed Max out enough that Max would kick him out. But Max groaned, long and low, and said, “Fuck, Oscar, do you think—you can, if you want, on me—like this.”

“No, I can—I can hold it,” Oscar whimpered.

And he’d really thought he could. He’d been right on the edge of coming, sure that he’d make it, when Max fucked in and pressed hard against Oscar’s lower belly. A stream of piss shot out of Oscar’s cock and Oscar sobbed, reaching down to grab his cock like he could stop it.

“M’sorry,” Oscar cried, squeezing his cock, trying to stop it even as piss dribbled around his fingers. “Fuck, Max, I can’t—”

But Max just moaned, tugging Oscar’s fingers away from his cock, chin hooked over Oscar’s shoulder. “Let me watch,” Max ordered, voice low.

Oscar sobbed but he let Max watch him piss himself, liquid running down his thighs and onto the sheets, Max fucking him steadily, little spurts of piss shooting out with each thrust of Max’s hips. He felt embarrassed, scared, desperately turned on. Everything all at once and he didn’t want it to stop, wanted Max to keep fucking the piss out of him, forcing him to humiliate himself.

“M’sorry,” Oscar whimpered. “M’sorry, m’sorry, m’sorry.”

But Max didn’t say anything, just wrapped his fingers around Oscar’s wet cock and stroked him, kept stroking him until Oscar was coming with a desperate whine, his cock and balls aching and sore. He felt emptied out, drained, delirious, and Max shoved him down onto the bed, shoved him into his own mess, fucked him hard until Max came with a deep groan, biting hard into Oscar’s shoulder.

Max hadn’t been weird about it after, had just shrugged and said, “We’ll leave a big tip.” He’d given Oscar a delighted little grin, eyes crinkling, and added, “Worth it, of course.”

That’s the thing about Max. The thing that keeps Oscar coming back time and time again. Max sort of seems to like being gross, seems to like that Oscar’s gross, too. Just looks confused whenever Oscar gets all shy and ashamed about what he likes in bed.

But as much as Oscar wants Max to make him piss himself, they’re in a supply closet in the middle of the fucking paddock. Oscar has a team debrief after this and he’d prefer not to have to walk into McLaren wearing a piss-soaked race suit.

In the end, he shoves Max off him and pushes Max back against the wall, sinks to his knees and sucks Max off until Max is coming in his mouth. Oscar can’t help but notice that Max looks disappointed.

Sure enough, as Oscar’s climbing to his feet, Max frowns at him and says, “You didn’t piss.”

Oscar barks out a laugh. “Yep, keen eye.”

“You will tonight though, yes?” Max asks, staring in that focused way of his that always makes Oscar feel slightly off-balance. “Come to my hotel room? I ordered this latex sheet online that we can put on the bed.” Max mimes spreading a sheet over the bed and tucking in the corners.

“You did research,” Oscar says, looking at Max with what he’s sure is a stunned expression.

Max shrugs. “Of course. I enjoyed it last time. If you didn’t—”

“No,” Oscar says quickly. “No, I—I liked it.”

Max grins. “Okay, then. You will come to my hotel room.”

Oscar nods, dazed. He’s not sure why Max buying a latex sheet feels so romantic, but it does, and Oscar can’t help but lean in and press a quick kiss to Max’s lips. Max moans, deepening the kiss. Oscar lets him. He still desperately needs to piss, but he reckons he can hold it. And well, if he can’t—he’s pretty sure they both sort of like that.

[tfwbluu]

what do u think riki’s kinks are

KINKS

pair: ni-ki & f!reader. warnings: dom riki mostly, it’s just descriptive with some lines here and there, we’re talking about kinks so there’s that wc: 0.8K

a/n: i don’t want to be repeating myself from my previous works so let’s do with the ones i haven’t done yet. it’s ok if yall don’t agree with me, these are just my personal opinions !

Toys. He’d love the idea of teasing you with them, maybe fucking a dildo into you or pressing a vibrator against your clit until you were trembling. And if he caught you using them while he was gone? Oh, he’d make sure to turn it into some sort of punishment.

“C’mon, angel,” he taunted, his voice low and teasing as he pressed the vibrator against your clit just enough to make you squirm. His other hand worked the dildo in and out of you at a slow, deliberate pace. “You were fucking yourself on this earlier, couldn’t even wait for me. So now, this is all you get.”

Bondage. He’d definitely be the type to tie you up, relishing the control it gave him. Whether it was your hands bound behind your back or stretched upright, or your legs tied open to keep you completely exposed, he didn’t care as long as you couldn’t stop him from doing exactly what he wanted. He loved the sight of you spread out, helpless to his every touch, unable to hide from the pleasure he gave or the punishment he delivered.

“You’re sensitive?” he’d murmur, a sly grin spreading across his face as he pounded into you relentlessly. “I never imagined you’d be this sensitive, but I love it.”

Size kink. Have you seen his build? He’d absolutely use it to his advantage. His massive hands would engulf yours, his broad frame could easily cover you completely, and no matter your height or build, he’d always make you feel small. Especially when it came to the size of his cock—he’d relish the way it stretched you, the slight bulge it created against your stomach, or how easily he could manhandle you into positions you never thought possible. Greedy and insatiable, he’d do whatever it took to have you just the way he wanted.

“You’re so tiny beneath me, baby,” he groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction. His hand drifted down, caressing the visible bulge in your stomach. “Look at you,” he murmured, his tone low and teasing, “taking my cock so perfectly.”

“Too much?” he’d tease, thrusting in slowly, his grin widening. “But I’m not even fully in yet. Just wrap your legs around me, angel. I know you can take all of me. Wanna be a good girl for me, right?”

Dacryphilia. He probably didn’t even realize it until he saw you like this—your lips stretched around his cock, tears and drool spilling down your face as you took him deeper. The sight drove him wild, something about you spurring him on, sending a rush of heat straight through him. He’d wipe away your tears with his thumb, the motion surprisingly tender, even as his hips kept moving, his voice low and strained.

“F-Fuck, you’re so pretty like this,” he’d groan, his head falling back for a moment before his eyes met yours again. “Feels so good, angel. You’re the only one who can make me feel like this, y’know?”

Choking. He loved using his big hands to grip your neck, especially when he was wearing rings. The cold metal pressing against your flushed skin made your head spin. His grip was firm, just enough to leave you breathless, or sometimes he’d use it to hold you up from behind.

Neck grabs, deep grunts, the desperate roll of his hips against yours. “You wanna cum, yeah? Then cum for me, baby,” he growled, his voice heavy with need.

“Haa, tired already?” he mocked, his tongue clicking in feigned disapproval. “Tsk, tsk, tsk... always leaving me to do all the work.” His hand tightened around your neck as he pulled you up, continuing to thrust into you without missing a beat.

Missionary. He’d absolutely thrive on seeing the raw effect he had on you. With his cock buried deep inside you, he’d watch every flicker of pleasure on your face, loving the way your lips parted for soft moans or how your body twitches when he teased your sensitive nipples.

“Look at me, pretty,” he’d murmur, his voice deep and commanding. “I wanna see how good I make you feel.”

Eye contact would be non-negotiable. He needed to see the way your gaze melted with desire, and if you wanted to cum, you’d have to look right at him.

“You’re close?” he’d ask, smirking as he slowed to a torturous pace, drawing a whine from you. You begged him, finally locking your eyes with his.

If you didn’t? He’d slow down, torturously edging you, leaving you trembling, desperate, and on the brink of tears. Only when you finally obeyed, locking your eyes with his, would he give in, pounding into you relentlessly until you were completely undone.

“Eyes open, sweetheart,” he cooed, his thrusts picking up again. “Yeah, that’s my girl. Gonna cum for me now, mhm?”

[nerdanel01]

No. 7 - the marriage proposal from Love Is A Stranger

Several things—bizarre, inexplicable, and world-shattering things—all happened at once then, in a stupendous and stupefying sequence.

Firstly: that Emmrich let go of Eric— willingly, without fight. Agnes had somewhat suspected she’d never be able to part them without physically prising Eric out of his father’s arms ever again. He unwound their child from his waist, and placed him, delicately, onto his stomach, back on the heavy blanket they had set out upon the floor.

Secondly: that���in fully the weirdest, most off-putting display of necromancy Agnes had ever seen Emmrich commit (and he had done some weird shit)—with a gesture and a bit of wordless magic, he had summoned a macabre joinwork of skeletal hands waving on skeletal forearms, ensconcing Eric with enough room for him to roam on hands and knees, but without the possibility of him wandering far and hurting himself, or getting filthy, or putting something in his mouth he oughtn’t. Effective, perhaps—but also, nightmare-inducing. Eric—who was too young to recognize bone matter when he saw it, and lacked even the cognitive wherewithal to know what a bone was —found the entire trick delightful, and was giggling gleefully from his osseous confines.

Thirdly: that Emmrich was stalking towards her with a look of starved determination, like a wolf in winter on the doorstep of death.

Fourthly—and the last thing she noticed, before her world inverted and shook her about like a piggy bank from which it was trying to extract, not so much coins, but the hope of coins, coins imagined, stuck somewhere in ceramic recesses; and the violence of that shaking was such that Agnes was not entirely sure it had really happened—she swore she heard him muttering indignantly under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like,“what I must do…”

Then he snaked an arm around her waist, tilted her chin up to his face, and kissed her full on the mouth.

She had been prepared for this morning, for this confrontation—this negotiation of Eric’s future—to go any number of ways, but this had decidedly not been one of them. She went utterly limp with shock—like a corpse freshly dead, before rigor had begun to set—and would have fallen to the ground completely, had it not been for Emmrich’s grip around her, holding her fast against him. 

He kissed her softly, gently, and her heart pounded madly against her ribs like a rabbit trying to escape a trap; it made no sense. He had said he wanted nothing to change between them. He had said….

He pulled his mouth away from hers to breath into the space between them, to brush the words against her lips, much too kindly, much too patiently:

“Was that so loveless to you?”

Loveless? Love? Was this love? Her heart afire like it was going to fail, a panicked sweat breaking out across her brow, her stomach performing world-class circus acrobatics. Oh, heavens—would she even know love if she saw it, now? It had been a stranger to her from the death of her mother, through the long and lonely years until the birth of her son. And the love she felt for Eric never made her feel so feeble and frightened, as she did now, like a cornered animal.

“Emmrich….”

Both low warning and plea.

“Nessa, forgive me,” he said—hearing him call her by that old endearment felt as warm and comfortable as sinking into a hot, just-drawn bath—and his long-fingered warm hand came to cup her face, and she thought, ‘what for? It is I who absconded with your firstborn.’ But his next words sent icy chills down what little spine she had left. 

“All this time, I did not see. I have been an utter fool. I had no idea.”

He spoke with such sober, sagacious understanding, and Agnes was terrified: terrified of what he had seen in the blank spaces between her words, in all the things she had not said. Her heart felt as though it was about to arrest. He kept his forehead kissed to hers, and his thumb stroked away the sudden tears spilling down her cheek as he spoke:

“Already you are the mother of my son. Be my beloved; be my wife; and be assured there will be nothing loveless about it. Lay down beside me each evening in this waking life, and let those who outlive us lay your bones beside mine in death, or else suffer my wrath at being parted from you. Agnes Gallatus, my brave and brilliant companion, marry me, and grant me the privilege of loving you for the rest of our mortal and eternal days.”

…Agnes had accused him of insincerity, but now, Emmrich smacked of sincerity. He was the very picture of sincerity. The sincerity and warmth and affection in his brown-flecked green eyes was, quite frankly, both astonishing and a little embarrassing for Agnes to behold, and it rendered her utterly mute.

He had measured the black hole of her heart by its perimeter alone, though she had never made mention of it. He had seen in that pit everything she had never said, so transparent, so see-through, so paper thin was she to him after all these years. He had seen it, plucked it free, and he had spoken it aloud—voiced her heart’s most sacred, impossible desire, as though doing so did not threaten to rend her to shreds—and all but promised her that she could have it. 

After all these years, he had unmade her in an instant, ripped away all the walled protection she had built around her heart to keep her sane, to keep her safe.

And then—with infinite grace, for which Agnes might have kissed him herself if she could have managed to make her mouth obey her thoughts—Emmrich gave it all back to her. He gave her a choice.

“Or don’t,” he said, simply, and stepped away from her, leaving her heady and jelly-legged and propped against the kitchen table behind her. “Tell me no. You owe me nothing, and I will not resent you if you prefer a… different path. I want you, but only willing; and if you do not want me, I will not abandon you to the whims of my father. I will support you in finding a way for this to work for both of us—most of all, for Eric.” 

Agnes felt the world re-solidify beneath her feet, only for the whole if it to go wobbly and uncertain again when Emmrich concluded with his final coup: 

“But do not deceive yourself nor dishonor me ever again, Agnes, by implying either directly or indirectly that I would have married you merely out of convenience. Out of obligation, or duty.” His mouth—his mouth which he had very recently and most unexpectedly pressed against her mouth, her mouth which still burned with the memory of his upon it—twitched beneath his dark mustache into a wistful smile. 

“You are—have always been—much more to me than that.”

…was this love? This roaring of her own blood in her ears, this incoherency? This breathlessness as she fisted her hand in his shirt and drew him near to her again, whispered his name—

“Emmrich…”

—as he whispered breathlessly back, “yes…?”

Agnes kissed him softly—tentatively—almost suspiciously, with her eyes still open; the faintest, most virginal brush of her lips against his. His eyes fluttered closed when her mouth met his; before he could blink them open again she pressed a bolder kiss to his lips; then another.

And he did not run. He did not stop her. He did not change his mind. He did not bargain or plead or try to negotiate with her. When she withdrew, Emmrich only looked at her with infinite patience—looked at her mouth with gentlemanly restraint, with thinly veiled hunger. 

Agnes parted her legs; Emmrich sidled his lean body between them. And she kissed him, then, properly: open-mouthed, eyes closed.

And he kissed her in a way he had never kissed her before—none of the guilt, nor the shame, nor the restraint that had dogged and chained him when they had first collided so many months ago—full-bodied, groaning obscenely into her mouth. Agnes (who had not been touched with desire since that night, and—since Eric’s birth, and the utter mangle it had made of her body—had rarely since even touched herself) felt herself go wet at the sound alone. Her hands gripped his hips, pulled him nearer, and Agnes cried aloud, piteously, nearly undone at the irrefutable evidence of his enthusiasm pressing hot and urgent against her thigh. It did not seem prudent, to be rutting with Emmrich on her kitchen table with their infant son mere feet away... but each incredulous, half-gasped moan of pleasure that Emmrich poured hotly into her ears went straight to her gut; sent tingles down her spine; sent her back arching off the table—it would not take her long, she would not last—

The table shuddered beneath them.

The hot pot of half-burned porridge began to roll off its trivet.

Emmrich was faster than Agnes. With a half-muttered curse, he grabbed the pot, bare-handed—swearing again as his skin made contact with the hot iron, setting the precariously wobbling pot upright before it came away an ugly, raw, red. When he met her eyes again, he did so with an embarrassed laugh, a blush sweetly coloring the high points of his cheeks.

Agnes took his hand between hers, pressed a kiss to his fingertips as her magic washed over him—simple, elementary healing magic, the kind Emmrich had taught her how to master—soothing the burned skin, then repairing it entirely. Long past the point when his hand was renewed, she kept brushing her fingers over his palms, her eyes locked on his.

“When I return to the Necropolis today,” he told her, deep-voiced and throaty but smiling all the while, “do I have your permission to share the good news with Johanna?”

“What good news?” she teased him, pressing a coy kiss to the tip of his nose before ducking out of his arms, sweeping Eric out of the morbid playpen Emmrich had erected to contain him. “And put that ghastly display away, now, will you?”

With a gesture, the bone crumbled to cremains. Lovely. Agnes would have to beat the blanket out in the sun, to launder it heavily before she let Eric anywhere near it again. Before she could berate Emmrich for this, he slipped his arms around her waist, tucked his chin over her shoulder, pressed a kiss to her cheek, and told her the good news:

“That you are to be my wife.”

Agnes quirked her lips in a bashful smile, glad for the way his head was tucked against her shoulder, for it hid somewhat the girlish look she was wearing from gaze. 

“I don’t recall agreeing to your offer.”

“Are you refusing, then?”

“...No.” 

Agnes turned in his arms, Eric nestled safe and warm between them. And her cheeks were really aflame now. And she could not help it; and she did not care.

“Andraste preserve me, I don’t know how I’ll ever have the heart to refuse you anything now, Emmrich Volkarin,” she told him, in a tone that might have been chiding, if it were not so saturated with fondness. “You have won. I will love you; I will be your wife; I will gladly be wholly and utterly yours.” [read full chapter] --- I’m really proud of all the writing I did this year! So for the last ten days of 2024 I’m going to be reblogging my 10 favorite pieces that I wrote.

This is excerpted from my accidental pregnancy/Dad!Emmrich fic. I'm proud of Love Is A Stranger in general—I basically wrote it on a whim because two people enabled me—but this is probably one of my favorite passages in the whole fic, where all the miscommunications are finally getting resolved and Emmrich finally gets to be full devastatingly passionate and charming.

[dpennedit]

TO LOSE YOU

A little angst prompt to hold over while I finish up the Xmas one, followed by Mister Mistletoe. If anyone wants to use this as an idea and/or continue on, please feel free to. Also this has not been proofread, so please ignore any grammatical errors. **Originally written as a MLM pairing.

You want it to work.

In the beginning, you promised yourself to do everything right—to bend to Terry's needs and fulfill his every desire. Commitment called, and you were ready to answer. You never wanted to fuel the myth that men like you avoid long-term relationships and monogamy. You were ready, more than ready, for forever.

As you zip your suitcase, you face the crushing truth that all good things must end. The constant arguments have become suffocating; you need to breathe. But losing him feels like losing your very breath. He has become your life, your comfort. Walking out of his apartment feels like pulling the rug out from under yourself, tumbling into the cold void of loneliness you'd long forgotten.

But there's no saving this, no matter how much you want to. With tears welling in your eyes, you bury the past and prepare to leave. You lift the suitcase from the bed, dropping it to the carpet with a thump. Grabbing your duffle, you sling it over your shoulder and step toward the door.

Each step up the hallway feels weighted with regret. Whether it's regret for leaving or for starting this relationship, you can't decide. All you know is that it hurts, as you struggle to breathe through shallow gasps. You stop in the living room, staring at the walls lined with memories that are now cutting you to the core. Pain grips you, squeezing your heart until tears spill over.

With trembling hands, you shield your face, feeling monstrous for erasing yourself from this house with no warning. You wouldn't be able to face him—even though you're about to.

A soft click snags your attention, and your head snaps toward the front door. The lock turns, and you whisper an obscenity, quickly trying to collect yourself. The door swings open, flooding the dim space with evening light. Terry stands in the doorway, watching you with wary eyes.

He closes the door, his gaze shifting to your bags, then settling on your tear-streaked face. Worry deepens his stern expression. As he steps toward you, you shake your head, stopping him in his tracks. His brows knit in confusion as he stops inches away, searching your face. The truth sinks in, and he looks off, a sharp breath escaping him. "No," he mutters, low and firm.

You close your eyes, drawing a breath, praying for strength. Heart thudding, you clench your jaw, eyes fixed on the floor, and make him aware that your mind is made. Terry meets your eyes again, the green and grey orbs swirling with growing distress. You've never know the man to beg, but it's clear that he's about to.

Unable to stand the tension, you retrieve your bags from the floor and attempt to move past Terry and out of the door. He traps you instead, his broad palms braced on each of your shoulders. You speak his name in full, something you've hardly done in the years of your relationship, and your seriousness settles even more.

Your voice is calm despite your nerves, and you don't meet his eyes as you speak. "Move out the way."

"Don't do this to me," Terry growls, guiding you backward and away from the exit. "C'mon, we can talk this out."

The words feel like a strike to the face, an offensive blow that earns a cold glare. You've tried to communicate your woes in every way—in layman's terms, phrases from counseling, even silence—but nothing worked. And now he's asking you to talk things out?

"Why?" The syllable soars out of your mouth, pricking him with visible confusion.

He stills, brows furrowed once again. "Why not?"

"There's nothing left to say. So why talk it out?"

A silent pause hangs as Terry's pillared shoulders crumble with defeat. You hadn't expected him to relent so easily, but you aren't going to stick around to question it either. With your things in tow, you push toward the door, not forgetting to snag your car keys from where they hang, and exit the apartment.

The door closes with a thud, and you halt. You've done it. You've left. It's a reality that becomes painfully apparent as you descend the steps, and you feel that stinging moisture in your eyes again. You shuffle across the lot to your car, loading your bags in the trunk. The driver's seat is next, and you're immediately keying the ignition before the door even closes. It's a slam instead, evidence of your frustration.

With an exasperated sigh, your head leans forward to rest on the wheel. You fight your tears, debating whether to let them free or stay composed until you reach your own apartment across town. Thank God you were wise enough to hold onto that. But although you have a place to return to, you don't have a home. Terry is your home, one you will undoubtedly miss.

Suddenly, your mind begins to toss with doubt. Should you stay?

You wearily lift your head, glancing at the apartment in the rearview mirror, only to see Terry rushing down the steps. He pursues you like a dark stallion, charging across the lot. His feet are like thunder, slapping against the pavement. Your breath hitches as your body becomes alarmed, and you shift gears. Before you can reverse, the man is already at your window.

Terry is frantic, knocking at the glass and pulling on the handle. "We can talk this out!"

You can only marvel at his desperation, mouth slightly agape. There's a whine in his low, muffled voice—foreign on your ears. What had come over him? Terry is usually so steady, so sure. Seeing him unravel reminds you that there's a human behind the walls you grew tired of trying to climb.

His pleading intensifies, his knocking knuckles now pounding palms against the glass. He begs you to open the door, sputtering promises to do better and listen. He's fighting for you, and you hate how it makes you reconsider. You want to let him in—but you know better.

You lock eyes with him, lips pressed into a thin line, and firmly shake your head. Your heart aches at the pain in his expression as his face contorts into a grimace. Before you can react, he angrily begins jerking the door handle.

"Open this fucking door!" He demands in a startling roar.

You panic and quickly move to reverse out of the parking space. All the while, he's still gripping the handle, determined to never let you go. You used to adore his strength, and can't believe that it might actually cause you injury now.

Before you can pull forward, Terry dashes to the front of the car, bracing his hands on the hood. He's glaring at you, both a warning and a plea. You flush with embarrassment—what if someone's watching?

"Baby, please," he croaks. "Don't do this to me."

You clench your eyes shut, swallowing down the will to lose all morale and run the bastard over. When they open, you take a hitching breath and roll the window down a safe measure, ordering him to step aside. Terry defiantly kicks the front bumper, fists clenched at his sides as he moves for the driver's side. You seize the moment to pull forward, catching him off guard.

Disregarding the stop sign, you pull out of the lot on a prayer that you don't wreck your car. Terry continues pursuing you even as you speed down the main road before finally tripping over his own feet. Hands gripping the wheel, you take frequent glances at the mirror, watching as he quickly scrambles to his feet. He squares his shoulders as if to make a second attempt, but seemingly decides against it, holding his head in despair.

[fanfictionstuff]

Family Christmas (Amaimon x Reader)

Amaimon and Reader as parents of a little girl (5)

The little girl isn't given a name, but she's called Amaimon's Mini-Me, she looks just like him.

It is not stated if Reader is human or demon.

Merry Christmas!

I'll write a new year GN reader one soon.

Amaimon turns his attention from the TV to the child standing on a step stool by the bar. Her golden eyes are focused on the object before her, and when she feels eyes on her, she glances up she has an expression that mirrors his own. “I think you’re rolling it too thin.” He casually comments as he eyes the thin dough. “Your cookies are going to burn.” And taste bad. She stops, and lowers her head to get a better look at the cookies. “Mama! Daddy says my cookies are bad.”

“I didn’t say that.”

You let out a sigh and set aside the gifts you are wrapping. Both you and Amaimon had procrastinated, waiting until the last minute to prepare the gifts from Santa. Amaimon’s mini-me is supposed to be in the kitchen, rolling out dough and cutting sugar cookies, and she typically is pretty good at it. However, your five-year-old has a flair for the dramatic, so you quickly abandon your task and head to the kitchen, making sure to lock the door behind you.

“Daddy, no!”

“What if it’s not good?”

“Mama said we can’t eat raw cookie dough; we could get sick.” 

Amaimon sighs. “We’re demons, we’ll be fine.” He says, holding some of the dough up to the child’s mouth. 

“You have to leave some dough, or Santa won’t have any cookies.” You frown at the two green-haired demons as they eat the cookie dough. You watch as your daughter’s eyes widen with realization, and you continue, “We won’t have enough butter to make more cookie dough if you both eat it all. So, no cookies for Santa.”

“Daddy, stop eating it!”

“You were eating it too.”

Stepping into the kitchen, you pinch Amaimon’s hip. “Go finish my paperwork; I’ll handle this.”

“How much paperwork do you have left?”

“A lot. Have fun.” You push him towards the bedroom to wrap the presents.

By the time Amaimon finishes wrapping everything up, you’re just taking the cookies out of the oven, while Amaimon’s mini-me is glued to the TV, eagerly watching Santa being tracked. “Santa will be here soon! We have to go to bed!”

“Okay, okay. The cookies are done, get the milk, okay?”

I can’t believe everything is going smoothly this year. Amaimon isn’t grumbling about not understanding Santa, you’ve got your daughter ready for bed already in her pajamas, and she’s excited to go to bed.

It can’t be that simple, can it? As soon as the milk and cookies are perfectly arranged by the tree, she wants to say goodnight to Behemoth. Without a moment's hesitation, Amaimon summons him. The first thing he does? Happily tackle your daughter to the ground. But then he catches the scent of something. The milk. The milk that is right beside the tree. Within mere seconds, he’s summoned, greets your daughter happily, and then darts toward the milk. But he moves too quickly. With a powerful crash, he collides not only with the milk and cookies but also takes the tree down with him.

The room falls silent as Amaimon, Behemoth, and your daughter stare wide-eyed at the sight of fallen ornaments, spilled milk, and crushed cookies. Suddenly, tears begin to well up in the little girl's eyes as she looks to you and her father, her expression horrified. "Santa... he won't... he won't come now...?" Your daughter gazes up at Amaimon, distressed, tugging at his pants in desperation. His expression remains stoic, but his golden eyes soften considerably when he meets the gaze of his tearful daughter. He bends down to pick up the crying child. “Why are you crying? We have more milk. I’ll clean up the tree and set out more milk and cookies. If Santa doesn’t come, I’ll kill him," he states. 

"Telling our daughter you'll kill Santa isn't helpful." The demon frowns, shifting uncomfortably with his daughter still nestled in his arms.

"Right," he mutters, amending his statement to a quieter, "I won’t kill Santa. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Santa will come.” 

“How do you know?” 

“I just know.” 

You sigh, listening to their conversation; he can be such an idiot sometimes. Despite his inability to explain how he knows, your daughter quickly accepts his answer as the truth and jumps from his arms to run to the kitchen for more milk and cookies. “Go help her so she doesn’t spill the milk,” you nudge Amaimon towards the kitchen while picking up the tree. Despite how bad it looked after the incident, it’s not nearly as terrible as it seemed. The tree is easily set back up, and only a few ornaments have fallen off. 

Once your daughter sees it’s not as bad as she thought, she’s easily put to bed by Amaimon.

You lie on the sofa when Amaimon walks into the living room again. Without hesitation, he climbs over you and comfortably settles on top of you. “I can’t believe you told her you’d kill Santa.” You roll your eyes, wrapping your arms around the demon’s shoulders. "Sorry.” He shrugs, lifting himself up slightly to meet your gaze. His hand slips under your shirt, gently brushing against your abdomen.

“She told me something interesting before she went to sleep.”  

“Oh really?”  

“She wants a brother or sister.”  

“And what do you think about that?”  

He smirks, his gaze playful as he leans down, brushing his warm lips against yours. “I don’t want to disappoint my little princess.” 

[evelynpr]

bakugou for the character ask game?

Truly the teenage boy, shonen deuteragonist, love interest coded, gay asshole, of all time.

My first impression - Woah I did not understand why people were so into this guy. Like I get it, he's a flawed and loud pretty boy, he gets character development, and probably gay, but seriously him??? His mouth is so fucking foul and he is so up his ass. - I was meh with this character, enjoyed him in fan content, but just did not get why people were sooo into this guy.

My impression now - I cried in "Light Fades To Rain". Twice. - My god his growth...his will, his persistence, and by god his love for Izuku is so ridiculous and powerful I just cannot help but admire the little shithead. - He is also a lot more to me than I expected, with the whole "foul mouth shit", "high expectations bullshit", "violent urges", and "dedicating your whole life and love to someone you love and admire" and that...that makes me feel quite conflicted.

Favorite thing about that character - The thing about Bakugou is that...you just cannot help but wish you had the same kind of persistence, strength, will, and power that he does. I love how all this is initially so shallow and selfish, then grows to wanting to be a better and truer hero. He really learns and changes and is just an unstoppable force of nature, it's genuinely incredible and beautiful to watch.

Least favorite thing - I wished that the overall writing did go harder in making him stop bad-mouthing people and...everything so much. You can tell he did grow to respect and care for people around him more, but by gods he is sooo bad at communicating his feelings right now. (tbf, he is so fucking young and traumatized) - Also, really please stop hitting people. I get a knee-jerk reaction to that kind of physical violence sometimes ngl.

Favorite line/scene - There are so many. I already mentioned his death in "Light Fades to Rain" so I'll mention a different one - Team Bakugou in Class A vs B was so goddamn good, for being a monumental milestone of his character. How much he trusted his teammates and put himself in danger to save others, winning in the end. No injuries, no failures, truly a perfect beautiful victory. How he also pushes Deku to keep getting better afterwards in his usual constipated-ass language too. Man I just love that battle to death.

Favorite interaction that character has with another - (me pulling out scenes that aren't bkdk centered here hahaha) - I fucking LOVED the Bakugou vs Ochako fight. It made me love Ochako so so much as a kid. I really wished we had a follow-up to that battle, and it genuinely changed my life. - I love how it really shows just how focused and rational he is in battle. How he truly respects his opponents, Ochako in this case, and the sports festival really establishes so much about him.

A character that I wish that character would interact with more - Speaking of which...OCHAKO VS BAKUGO 2 COME ONNNN - There is SO MUCH these two need to talk about. How to save people, who they want to save, who saved them, never underestimating each other, how they changed and grew. I just love these two characters to bits, that's why I need them to FIGHT AND TALK SO BADDDD - Additional: Also Toga (see my post on Toga right before this one lmao), Shoto (because I still don't really get their friendship but its hilarious, and I love Shoto)

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character - I legit cannot think of anything here...like for Toga...I am so sorry my brain is blanking T__T - It's hard to be a massive anger-issue filled, victory-focused, die for their lover (twice), amazing chef, all at once, kinda guy...you know?

A headcanon about that character - I am a believer in trans!fem Bakugo in the future. He's so ridiculously angry for some reason, voice always cracking, and just on-edge for some reason. Idk I just think its hilarious and satisfying if he transed his gender in the future and became happier and more comfortable.

A song that reminds of that character - I also have a Bkdk playlist in the making! Here's some bkg focused songs in character development order: - Boys will be Bugs, President Perfect, Top of my School, Oh No!, I'm Gonna Win, The Last of the Real Ones, Skyfall, Die For You, Set Fire to the Rain

An unpopular opinion about that character - Like Toga, he actually isn't possessive. I think he quite well understands and accepts that Izuku is a very loving person that many people are easily drawn to (I mean, he'd be a hypocrite if he didn't understand that). - He is protective instead of possessive. He keeps an eye out for anything and anyone who could possibly actually hurt Izuku, but he doesn't hold him back at all in hanging around with others, and when other people fall for Izuku either. - He is actually quite skinny, and doesn't have the big thick buff guy build. Those go to Izuku and Iida more imo.

Favorite picture - I never really thought of this much??? I love art of him being softer, more solemn, quiet and contemplative even. I guess I'll go pick out some favs right now...

Here they are! Hope you enjoy the post lmao

[hellokittyish]

★ thinking about satoru who simply laughs whenever someone points out that you and him are an odd pair — likely wondering what an overly loud and boisterous person such as himself is doing dating you, who is the complete polar opposite.

because while he may excel in social settings due to years of practise being the centre of everyone's attention; you, on the other hand, struggle to speak to or even hold eye contact with anyone other than him, often opting to nervously fiddle with the sleeves of your shirt and hide behind his tall form instead.

and all he can think about is how they would react if they were to see how dramatically the roles are reversed the moment the two of you are alone, his shy little girlfriend whispering the dirtiest things into his ear while she rides him senseless.

“mmph— fuck, baby, y’gotta slow down,” satoru pants breathlessly, big hands gripping at your hips in a half-hearted attempt to stall your frenzied pace. “otherwise ‘m not gonna last.”

“you’ll last,” you assure in a deceptively sweet whisper, hands splaying over the pale, hard planes of his chest as you bounce up and down on his cock like your life depends on it. “but if you don’t, i’ll just keep going until you get hard again.”

and he just gapes up at you dumbly, drool threatening to spill from between his parted maw as he is rendered unable to do anything other then lay there and take it, the waterlines of his snowy lashes prickling with shiny tears from how good it all feels.

if he could collect himself enough to speak again, he'd probably gush about how much pride he takes in the fact that he’s the only one who gets to see you like this; the only one who you feel comfortable enough coming out of your shell around in order to show him the real you.

and oh, is the real you a sight to behold — head thrown back in ecstasy as you use him as your personal dildo to chase your own pleasure, plush tits bouncing freely with the force of each of your movements… and, most importantly, not a hint of your usual timidness to be seen.

but of course satoru won’t say any of this to whoever is currently inquiring about your compatibility. instead, his lips will simply quirk up into a small, wry smile and he’ll settle for muttering out a vague “we mesh together pretty well, actually.”

[s0dium]

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐗

A/n: Almost kinktober guys ;) Synopsis: How many rounds can JJK men go for? Characters: Gojo Satoru, Toji Fushiguro, Geto Suguru, Choso, Sukuna Ryomen Warnings: Doggy, mating press, multiple orgasms, sub space, overstimulation, dub-con, photo taking, cock warming, nipple sucking, finger sucking, breeding, unprotected sex, virgin!Choso, mentions of masturbation, pussy drunk men

☆ Gojo Satoru: 3-4

The longest three rounds of your life

You think he can stop just cumming in you once? Hell no. The best part about sex is when he can see his cum oozing out of you with each push.

Also loves overstimulating himself until he is a groaning mess.

Unfortunately for you, Gojo Satoru is NOT a one-minute man.

"Awe come on don't go zoning out on me now~"

Gojo's voice is teasing, a low, melodic coo that slides into your ears as you struggle to focus. His grin is wide, almost predatory, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement as he leans in closer. You’re hazy, breathless, your mind clouded with pleasure, barely able to register the words.

"S'cant... feel too...” You mumbled and thrashed against Gojo's hold, forcing him to pin your wrists together above your head while he pistoned into you with brute force. Sure it's only the second round for him but for you, he's brought you over the edge more than your poor poor body can handle.

Your body feels completely spent, trembling with overstimulation as your legs, sore from the constant tightening and untightening, hang limp in Gojo's grip. He’s folded you in half, his hands pressing your legs against your chest, locking you in place with ease. The room feels heavy, a warm haze clouding your thoughts as you realize you’ve been drooling, too lost in the overwhelming pleasure to even care.

“Feel fucking amazing Jesus Christ.” Gojo manages to groan out between pants followed by a string of curses. Every time he leaves the clutch of your cunny, his cock is coated in a thick shiny sheen of creaminess, and when he snaps his hips back in, it settles right at the base of him, painting your puffy pussy lips as well. Gojo effortlessly lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, sinking even deeper into you with each forceful thrust. The new angle, paired with the relentless pace of his hips snapping against yours, sends you spiraling dangerously close to the edge. Your grip on the sheets falters, hands slipping as tears streak down your flushed cheeks. Your mouth hangs open, drool pooling beneath you, completely mind-fucked and overwhelmed by the pleasure that consumes every inch of your body.

Your limbs have no strength left to resist—no, you don’t want to. Every nerve in your body is thrumming, begging for more as you let him take control. His every movement draws out a fresh wave of sensation, each thrust sending you spiraling closer to that next high. You can’t stop it—there’s no chance to. Your body is his to use, to pull pleasure from again and again, and all you can do is surrender to the bliss as it builds, crashing over you uncontrollably.

"Come for me baby," Gojo coos. "I'll cum in you and if it spills we can start all over again."

~

☆ Toji Fushiguro: 6

First three you are riding him and doing all the work.

Then when your legs give out thats even he fucks you silly

He is so big :( Sometimes he has to let you cock warm him for a bit so you can catch your breath

This is it you where going to die.

You were going to be fucked to death.

"Shhh, stop crying would you? Yer' taking it like a champ I promise."

Two big hands come up to your face to wipe the hot tears streaming down your face. Your body is trembling uncontrollably, every muscle quivering as waves of pleasure leave you numb and overwhelmed. It’s like your senses have short-circuited, leaving you shaking, barely able to register anything beyond the intense, lingering sensation pulsing through you.

Even though Toji is unmoving inside you, your pussy cannot stop spasming from the pleasure of his fat tip pressed up against your g-spot. Even if he wanted to pull out right now, Toji doubts that your cunt would give up the vice grip on his cock. Coincidentally that meant that he was keeping you plugged with 3 loads of warm sticky cum in your tight walls.

"Fuck still so tight baby, you want me to fuck you more don't you?" Toji's voice is a low, teasing coo as his focus shifts to your breasts, his tongue flicking over each hardened nipple, tracing slow, lazy circles that send shivers down your spine. One hand squeezes your breast, kneading the soft flesh, while the other glides over your sides and stomach, his touch warm and deliberate, drawing out every sensation. With all the strength you can muster, you wrap your legs around his waist pulling him closer to you so that you can feel his cock push impossibly farther into you, and he moans into your breast, biting your nipple softly. 

Then, without releasing your nipple from his mouth, he begins the slow roll of his hips into your sloppy cunt. Toji's hips move in a slow, deliberate rhythm, each roll pressing him deeper into you with a tantalizing, unhurried pace. His movements are controlled, almost teasing, as he grinds against you, making you feel every inch, every pulse of his dick as he draws out your pleasure with each smooth thrust.

"Just take it m'kay? You can handle it."

~

☆ Geto Suguru: 4

Geto is a real fiend

The breaks between sex consist of him drinking water and kissing the water into your mouth. After that it's right back to fucking.

Loves taking photos of his cum oozing out of you. Looks at it when he is bored.

“So pretty….”

Drool dripped from your chin onto the pillow below, mixing with the tears streaming from your eyes, which were rolled back in bliss. Your breath hitched the moment Geto's hand tightened in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to catch his gaze out of the corner of your eye. As your eyes lock, a dark, knowing smirk curves on his lips, sending a shiver down your spine. You were finally getting used to the dizzying, mind-numbing pressure of his tip crashing into your cervix—but the bad news? Your legs were completely numb, trembling and useless beneath you.

 “Did you hear what I said doll?”

 Whatever was left of your mind tried to reign back its focus on the man pistoning into you from behind, but as it turned out, there wasn’t much. The friction of his cock dragging against you was unbearable, even with the syrupy cum soaking the walls of your quivering pussy. All you could do was dizzily nod, earning a chuckle from Geto while he eyes the way your hips instinctively raise so his cock can sink even deeper into you from behind. If you could only know the heaven your cunt you're putting his mind in, he is sure you'd be the one smirking. Geto even has to bite harshly on his lip to stop himself from whimpering every time your sticky pussy spasms from pleasure.

The euphoria came in waves of electric current that pulsed through your sloppy pussy and the only thing keeping you grounded his loads of warm sticky cum dripping down your thigh.  

 “Come on speak to me baby, I've only come two times, we've barely even started.”

 The wet sounds of Geto's dick slipping in and out of you filled the room and your senses. His cock filled you so much better than your hands ever could, hitting that gummy spot inside your walls over and over again perfectly, and you wondered how you were ever satisfied with the way you masturbated before you met him.

 “I’m a lucky man arent I? To have such an obedient baby with such a pretty pussy.” His hand comes to your face to caress your cheek, and you nestle into his touch while his thumb wipes away your tears. Your too busy immersing in the warmth of his palm to notice the flash of light and the sound of a shutter above you. Even when you turn your head back in curiosity, all you see is Geto staring at the screen of his phone with a lazy grin spread on his face.

~

☆ Choso: 2

Give this man a break! He's a half century old curse who has never fucked before!

You should be glad that he didn't cum by just slipping his tip in, because oh god lord he is seeing colors.

Choso swore he wasn't a whimpering man. Nothing that good could ever make him stumble over his words like a schoolboy. But Jesus Christ, he was not expecting you.

“F-fuck, you’re tight,” Choso groans hoarsely. You felt good? Try god-like, Choso's mind was in euphoria right now. His hand or a fleshlight could never compare to the way your gummy walls sucked him in and hugged his cock.

"M'feel good Cho~" You whine, head thrown back against the plush pillow. The stretch was delicious. It had you squirming and writhing and you couldn't help but tighten as your body tried to push out the large foreign intrusion. You gasped when you felt his tip smush against your cervix, little bolts of electricity being sent through your stomach as he pressed against you.

Choso was slow at first, wanting to still admire the way your cunt swallows him up, the fat of his head has a hard time popping out with how greedy your cunny is being. He whines at how hot you are on the inside, but he’s quick to change to a faster pace.

Choso’s voice comes out in a deep, breathless groan, his grip tightening as he leans closer, his words heavy with need. "W-wanna do this all the time. Every day, baby," he rasps, his eyes half-lidded in pleasure, completely lost in the sensation. Each thrust seems to pull the words from his lips as if he can’t hold back, his body trembling with how good it feels. The thought of having you like this, over and over, only spurs him on, his pace quickening as he grinds against you, desperate to make this moment last forever.

Unable to handle the sensation, your hands grab his shoulder and grip them for dear life. Choso doesn’t let up his pace, in fact he increases it, pounding your poor little cunt with no remorse. His mind is foggy, everything just feels and looks so so good, he’s not even thinking when he shoves his fingers in your mouth, digits pressing down on your tongue and swirling around in the spit.

“Your gonna let me use you when ever I want right? Gotta lot of time to make up for, you gonna be a good girl and always make me feel good right?”

~

☆ Sukuna Ryomen: Lord have mercy

It depends.

Its either the longest no-break sex marathon of your life or 6 even seven rounds with small breaks in between.

Unfortunately, Sukuna is a sadist, it's a headcanon that he might prioritize his pleasure over yours. Combine that with his godly stamina and you have an insane combo.

Kneeling helplessly, both your wrists pinned behind you by just one of Sukuna’s powerful arms, you can only brace yourself as he thrusts into you from behind, each powerful movement sending shockwaves through your body as he effortlessly controls your every breath, your every tremble.

"C-cant do this!" you cry, your voice breaking as Sukuna's grip tightens around your wrists, holding you firmly in place. Your legs are sore from this kneeling position and the angle that his cock hits you is so euphoric it's almost painful from the sheer collision. Sukuna chuckles darkly, his pace relentless as he leans in closer, his hot breath ghosting over your neck.

"Oh, but you will," he growls, each word dripping with wicked amusement, his hips driving into you harder. "You don’t have a choice."

You can only wail in response, the sound escaping your lips uncontrollably as the overwhelming pleasure consumes you. Every thrust sends a wave of heat surging through your body, your mind going blank as Sukuna fills you completely, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. The pressure builds with each deep, forceful stroke, your body trembling beneath him, and all you can do is surrender to the intense, all-encompassing bliss that threatens to pull you under.

"Such a good girl, you're a natural submissive, aren't you? Or maybe you just loved being fucked like the slut you are."

How much time has passed? You can’t even tell anymore—everything blurs together in a haze of pleasure and heat. The rhythm of Sukuna’s relentless pistoning becomes the only thing grounding you, your mind foggy and lost as your body responds to him instinctively. Each second feels stretched out, an eternity of raw sensation as you teeter on the brink, utterly consumed by the moment.

"Gonna fuck you like this till I’ve had my fill, got that?" Sukuna’s voice is a low, dangerous growl in your ear, the words sending a shiver down your spine as he presses deeper.

[webism]

pornstar!sukuna who has a niche for the dark and dangerous, he only accepts shoots that cater to his more… intense nature—ropes and chains and gags and rigs beyond the regular bedroom scenes.

pornstar!sukuna who works with many other actors and actresses. he's demeaned and degraded more people for a pay check than he can count, but his favourite is you. you’re not so easy to break, which he likes—plus, videos in which you bite back make double the profit.

pornstar!sukuna who is easy to agree when you call him one night asking for a favour. you were meant to do a camshow with another pornstar when he cancelled last minute—and you know people are excited for this one, if you don’t want to miss out on a paycheck you’d need to find a quick replacement.

pornstar!sukuna who is expecting a homemade bd/sm rig to greet him when he walks into your home that night.

pornstar!sukuna who isn’t expecting a bed with a pink duvet and matching fluffy pink handcuffs hanging from your headboard. it’s cute, he thinks—he can picture the scene, you laid out and fucked like a whore in pink. he’s eager, until you tell him the handcuffs aren’t for you, but for him.

pornstar!sukuna who is about ready to walk out, to tell you off for even assuming he’d do such things on camera, that he'd ruin his crafted image of this sadistic figurehead for a camshow of all things.

pornstar!sukuna who just can't say no and turn on his heels, not when you look up at him like that, your pretty eyes just too convincing. He's seen you fucked out and stupidly cockdrunk before, he knows what you look like when you submit wholly to him, and though it's a beautiful sight—one of his favourites—he can't deny that he's intrigued to know how you look through his eyes when they're glossed with desperate pleasure.

pornstar!sukuna, the notorious dominant, who loads up on thousands. of peoples screens handcuffed to a pink bed. Everything pink: the cuffs, the sheets, his mussed hair, the pretty blush that paints the bridge of his nose, the leaky tip of his cock as you stroke it, your nails painted pink to match.

pornstar!sukuna who growls when people start tipping each time he gets close to cumming. who looks so insanely out of place, big and imposing and so covered in tattoos that even his ridiculous length has been inked to an extent, all needy and growing all the more desperate as you keep denying him his orgasm. wrists chained to your wooden headboard, his muscles ache with the temptation of breaking free.

pornstar!sukuna who can't help but wonder if his life has been flipped on its head when you start praising him and he moans at your words alone. Who, for all his life has gotten off on inflicting the worst onto others, and can now feel the most powerful orgasm of his life cresting when those narcotic words spill from your lips. "doing so well for me, god you look good like this, sukuna."

pornstar!sukuna who can only hold on for so long before his taut-pulled patience snaps and burns on impact. so when he's watching himself through the display of your laptop, cock red and angry as it leaks in need at your denial of his orgasm again, he snaps.

pornstar!sukuna who breaks your handcuffs with one pull, and has you flipped over and taking his mean cock in less time than it takes you to process his movements. who is glad you were enjoying torturing him, because you're so wet that the stretch of his cock is only searingly painful and you're not pushed to tears... this time.

pornstar!sukuna who fucks you mindless for toying with him for so long. for airing out a side of him that is weak in the bones for you, and plastering it on the internet for anyone to see. he bullies his cock into you, mean and unrelenting—yet whispers the sweetest of nothings into your ear as he does so, low enough that your mic can't pick up on them—your ears only.

pornstar!sukuna who kisses you when he cums. his lip piercing cold against your lips, your legs shaking in desperate need for mercy as he paints your insides white.

pornstar!sukuna who laughs when you, in your cum-drunk haze, try to reach for your laptop to turn off the camshow.

pornstar!sukuna who promises your now-doubled viewer count that the stream won't end until you've come ten times on his cock—he's going to make an example out of you.

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

toji is okay with you not making eye-contact with him during sex because he knows that you're just overwhelmed, right? it's because he simply loves to feel your lips against his skin when you hide your face in the crook of his neck because that's how he knows he's taking good care of you, right?

fuck no.

those are not the only reasons.

if you look toji in the eyes while he's fucking you, he will cream his pants like a fucking teenager who's just seen a pair of tits for the first time.

when he has you on your back with your heels digging into his lower back and with your hands clawing at your back, his own arms barely supporting his body as he sinks into you; you look beautiful like this – a layer of sweat covers your body and he thinks about licking it all up, your bitten lips are parted and the sounds that spill from you cloud toji's mind like a drug. you're writhing and you're squirming, squeezing around his cock so tight that he feels like he's about to pass out.

and then... your eyes.

eyebrows scrunched together, you stare up at him and toji thinks he's going to die instead. tears brim in the corners while your pupils are blown wide, a mix of pleasure and adoration swimming in the dark orbs as he brings you closer and closer to another high. oh, he thinks you look like a fucking painting. like you belong in a museum.

the way you're looking at him is making his cock twitch inside you and that in turn makes you blink at him. you flutter your eyelashes while pressing your heels deeper into his back, silently begging for more.

"f-fuck..."

toji's head falls as he squeezes his own eyes shut. he feels like he's on fire. he feels like he's about to fucking explode. he's going to cum just because you're looking at him with nothing else but love in your eyes. he feels stupid for it – a little embarrassed that such a simple thing is getting to him so easily, but when he feels your hand on his jaw, cradling him like he's something that could break – the shame fades.

the combination of meeting your gaze once again, the care in them, and the love you offer him, makes the knot in his belly snap.

you caress his cheek as you hold your eyes on him, eager to watch him unfold in front of you. a fucked out smile makes its way to your lips and toji's heart skips a beat at the sight. he's never felt weaker, he's never felt more loved. oh, you're something alright.

he also can't handle your eyes whenever you're giving him head. he simply cannot do it. he does love watching you, he really fucking loves it – how you screw your eyes shut, your eyebrows furrowing as you concentrate on your breathing. how the drool pools in the corners of your mouth and how it dribbles down your chin. how your whole body twitches when you gag around him. how small your hand looks on him, how you massage his heavy balls. how pretty you look while doing it all – he's obsessed.

but the second you open your eyes and look back up at him... he's throwing his head back and hiding behind his arm. and while the view of his neck does get you to rub your own thighs together in want – it's not enough.

you want more.

taking your lips off his cock and ignoring the line of spit that connects you to it, you patiently wait for him to look at you. you even stop jerking him off, just resting your hand around his base. his dick twitches and another glob of pre-cum trickles from his tip.

"toji?"

your voice is as sweet as ever and he knows it's a trap. he grumbles back at you in hopes of convincing you to continue, but he's wrong. merely giving his base a squeeze, you watch how the older man buck his hips into your fist.

"look at me."

he won't, he won't, he won't. you're evil, you're awful, you wish to torture him until he dies. this is how it all ends for him. he won't.

"please..."

his balls twitch and his his body burns. he needs to cum so fucking bad but he hates looking like an actual old man, who can't keep his shit together.

"look at me, baby."

it's more of a demand now and he can't resist you. he never has and he never will. whatever you say goes – if you tell him to jump off a damn cliff, he will do so. if you want to break him just like you're doing right this moment, then so be it. he's all yours.

his arm falls from in front of his face and his green eyes crack open to the most glorious sight in the world. you look completely fucked out and your hair is a mess, your lips and your chin are all covered in spit and he thinks of you as an angel of some sort.

you give him a smile and his hips buck into your fist again, but you don't tease him for it – you want him to feel good. so you press a kiss to his sticky tip as you hold his lust-filled gaze and it's enough for him to blow his load all over your gorgeous face.

you lap at his tip like a kitten, collecting the few drops that threaten to escape while still pumping him with your one hand and massaging his balls with the other. toji grips the sheets below with both his hands – his fingers tug at the material so hard that they almost rip but neither of you care.

you worshipping his cock, or better yet worshipping him, is baffling to him. but he's not complaining. you take him into your mouth again, eyes still on his, you wrap your lips wrap around his tip and push him into overstimulation.

curses tumble from his scarred lips like they're the only words he knows and you can't help but smile while still having him him in your mouth. you're covered in his cum and now you're fucking grinning up at him – he really does think he's about to pass away. there's no way this is real, that you're not something his mind conjured up to plague him with. your hands feel godly and your mouth feels so fucking warm. no, this is it – he's officially dying.

taking your lips off of him with a pop, your smile widens even more as you give him an 'ahhh!' as if you've just had the best meal of your life and toji doesn't waste a second before pushing off the bed.

"fuck, come here."

his knees hit the floor with a thud as he lunges at you like a starved beast. he grabs your cheeks and pulls you toward him, smashing his lips to yours in a desperate kiss. he needs to feel you, he needs to taste you. he needs to love you.

he needs to give you his all.

[fairy-angel222]

𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

The latter opening his phone to a video of Gojo fucking you, one of his close friends and roommate, from behind. The camera capturing your tear filled eyes as you cried. “S-Satoruu— nnh, please.. please don’t show Suguru.” He couldn’t see you like this, especially when it was for his best friend. The one whose charms you promised him you wouldn’t fall for.

Gojo ignored you completely, and you let out a broken whimper when you took that as your answer. The camera now panning down to the recoil of your ass as Gojo hammered into you, using his hand to spread your cheeks before zooming in on the way your pussy stretched to take his thick cock.

“That’sss it. Look at that filthy fuckin’ cunt. So wet n noisy f’me. Pussy’s creamin’ all over my cock, shitt.” He groaned, palm landing meanly onto your ass as his pace sped. “Suguru’s gonna love this. He’s a lil pervert f’you baby.”

You mewled loudly, head fuzzy as you babbled out words of embarrassment. Attempting to hide your face in his sheets.

Geto was furious, his jaw clenching along with his fist as he watched Gojo taint his precious girl. That was supposed to be his job. Watching as Gojo’s hand twisted roughly in your hair to pull you up to his chest. Your eyes rolling back with the arch of your back as you let dumbed down cries consume your shaking frame.

Geto hated it. But he couldn’t stop watching. Beginning to stroke roughly at his cock to the sight of Gojo molding you around his cock. A loud groan vibrating in his chest when you started begging the white haired man to cum in you.

Gojo angled the phone to show your whiny face while forcing you to keep contact with your reflection. Teary eyes and drool filled lips staring back at you with a choked cry. A smirk on his face when he tilted it down to the lewd bouncing of your tits. "Bet Sugu’s gonna jerk off to this when he sees it baby.”

“Wonder if he likes hearing you beg for me to breed your cunt full. You think he likes it baby?” He faux cooed, lips ghosting over your ear with heavy breaths. The man putting himself in the frame to chuckle darkly before grinning. A shiver raking down your spine at the feeling of his teeth on your skin.

You could only whine with a hiccup as you blinked up at the camera. Your head spinning as you tried to looked away with a moan. You didn’t want Suguru to see you like this.

Gojo grip on your hair tightened, tugging harshly as you whimpered. “I’m fucking talking to you ya know, you were doing so well baby. Just had to screw it up, didn’t you?” Gojo scoffed, shoving your head into the bed below with his hand behind your neck. The mean snapping of his hips rocking you back and forth each time his cock kissed your cervix.

Gojo sighed, the camera now picking up his tensed abs as they glistened with sweat. His pelvis meeting your flesh faster than Geto could keep up with. “Your little slut needs a lesson or two on obedience Suguru.” He smiled lazily, “Guess someone’s gotta teach her huh.”

The video ended. And Geto was quick to press replay.

He groaned, still fisting his cock to the image of your face contorting into one of pure pleasure as you looked at the camera through your lashes.

Cursing himself as he reached into your bedside drawer to grab his favorite out of your panties. Pretty pink one with part lace and a bow in the middle. Using it to imagine that it was you bouncing on his cock, your tight cunt gripping him snug as you made a sticky mess on his thighs.

His pace quickened, breathing getting heavy as he panted. Ragged breaths falling past parted lips until he felt his cock twitch. Spilling thick spurts onto his clothed lap like the pervert Gojo said he was.

[rafeysbunny]

brother's bsf!rafe popping your cherry

there is absolutely nothing that rafe craves more than to fuck you, his best friend's little sister. he knows it is wrong, but he can't help himself when you're so fucking pretty, always wandering around in those cute little skirts and tops you like to wear, round tits almost spilling out of the thin fabric.

god, he's so obsessed with you.

you're always in his mind, all the fucking time, the thought of you haunting him every night when he goes to bed. and every single one of those nights, he ends up jerking off at the thought of you, like a bloody perv, to be able to finally fall asleep.

he knows topper'd kill him if he ever finds out about his massive crush on his baby sister, but that fact doesn't stop him from getting you alone in your guest bathroom as soon as the alcohol knocks your brother out cold on the couch. and now he has your gorgeous body pinned against the sink, the party still in full swing outside in your house while you two sloppily make out.

he's hard as a rock inside his slacks just by kissing you, the taste of your cherry chapstick lingering in your plump lips, as if you weren't just sweet enough already. it doesn't help his case the way you're whimpering so prettily into his mouth, your body arching against his as he grips your hips tightly, which has the silky fabric of your skirt all crumpled.

he tears his lips away from yours, panting heavily as he stares down at you with pure lust in his eyes. "fuck, you're so goddamn beautiful..." he reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "listen to me, baby."

you hum dumbly in response, not really paying attention to what he's saying, you just want his lips back on yours so, so bad. your small hands fist his expensive polo, bambi eyes staring shamelessly at his mouth as you watch him talk; his words not really registering.

"hey. hey, sweetheart, eyes up here..." he taps your chin with his finger. "i need you to tell me that you want this too, a'right?"

your dazed eyes dart up to meet his blue ones while you nod obediently, your thick, long lashes fluttering in his direction. "i want it, rafe," you mutter softly, pretty voice filling in the silence of the bathroom.

his eyes darken, pupils dilating when he hears the words he's been longing to hear for months now and the intensity of his gaze makes your skin prickle with goosebumps. "that's a good girl..."

before you know it, he has you bent over the countertop, skirt pulled up 'round your waist as he fucks your pussy with his thick fingers to stretch you out. you've got the tightest cunt he's ever put his digits into, which has his cock throbbing painfully in anticipation.

despite how bad he needs to sink into you, he forces himself to give you at least one orgasm with his fingers before he yanks his pants down and slowly pushes his dick inside your sopping hole, the feeling almost too good to be real. he thrusts into you one time, two, then three, your pussy squelching lewdly around him, and his whole body feels on fire.

is this what heaven feels like? yeah, it probably is.

he'd fuck you dumb, big hand shoving your pretty face against the cool marble as he pounds your pussy into oblivion until you're creaming all over his dick, flushed cheeks stained with tears.

"such a good girl f’me," he praises as he pulls out to finish on your plush ass, thick ropes of cum painting your smooth flesh.

more.

[cntloup]

Gojo Satoru x pregnant!reader

protective!Satoru, fluff, a lil angst, mention of feeling guilty, implied heavy symptoms experienced by the reader

"it's ok, baby. i've got it." Satoru says as he approaches your slouched form over the sink, washing the dishes as you try to get something done and make yourself useful.

you've been feeling guilty during the past month or so, feeling like you were a burden to him, thinking that you would never live up to his expectations. now he has to take care of you. and as time goes by, it will get even worse as your pregnancy progresses. but he's a busy man with heavy responsibilities. you'd be only holding him back. you torture yourself with these thoughts every day.

"oh, thanks. i'll go clean up the living room and do the laundry then." you respond with a forced smile, trying to mask the guilt that's been gnawing at you for a while as you try to keep yourself from falling over out of dizziness.

"what? no, wait! i'll do it after i wash the dishes. you go get some rest. you've done enough." he retorts while gently grabbing your arm, voice slightly raised to stop you immediately.

he is in utter disbelief at your behavior. you should be resting right now, tucked in beneath the soft sheets peacefully. you shouldn't worry your pretty little head about anything, he thinks.

"i haven't done anything all day." you utter in a faintly frustrated tone, mostly at yourself.

"and that's exactly how it should be." he replies with a nod, "now go to bed before i drag you there myself." he adds, maintaining a playful tone, a soft smile adorning his features as he drinks in your beauty. you're already glowing. but considering how observant he is, he senses your discomfort immediately like he can actually feel the gloom and sorrow you're feeling right now like a mother hen.

"what is it, baby? tell me." he murmurs as he walks up to you and pulls you into him by your hips, shining blue eyes staring at you as he awaits a response.

his hand rests on your side as the other cups your jaw, his thumb swiping over your cheek that could be dampened any moment now as you feel tears threatening to spill.

"i'm so sorry." you whisper breathily, voice slightly quivering with the lump in your throat as you look up into his glowing eyes.

"for what?" he asks, confusion evident on his features.

"for being weak. i'm so sorry to disappoint you." you finally spill out the words that have been weighing heavily on your chest as the tears cascade down your glossy eyes.

"disappoint me? i don't understand... why are you crying, love?" he mutters with a shake of his head, his confusion growing even more by your words as his fingers swipe over your cheeks to wipe away the stray tears.

"you're literally the strongest and you're stuck with me. i'm barely even showing yet and i'm feeling extreme fatigue. i've been sleeping all day for the past month cause i can't do anything. and because of the symptoms, i'll probably have to quit my job." you ramble about the thoughts that have been pulling you down all this time.

"wait, wait, wait! how long have you been feeling like this?" he questions with widened eyes baring into your soul.

"eversince we found out i was pregnant. i can't stop feeling guilty about disappointing you." you reply quietly, almost embarrassed to admit it. of course you know you're being irrational. it's all natural to be tired during this time and need help, but you just can't help it.

"you've been feeling like this all this time and you didn't tell me anything?" he blurts out almost too aggressively to his liking, "sorry. didn't mean it to come out that way." he quickly apologizes after witnessing the slight flinch on your part.

how could he not see it? you've been trying to do the chores like regular, pushing yourself to your limit both in the house and on your job until he swoops in and takes the weight off your shoulders. now he starts to blame himself for not finding out sooner and letting you wallow in your own sadness and guilt all alone.

"you're not weak, baby. you're doing the one thing that i can't possibly ever do. the one thing that the strongest can't do. and what does that make you? huh? you're literally the strongest of all, babe. i can't even fathom what you're going through and you're doing amazing-", "i'm barely functioning." you cut him off.

"i'm not done yet, babe." he says playfully before continuing, "you're doing amazing, honey. you sleep not because you can't do anything else but because you need it. you're carrying our child for fuck's sake. a literal human's life is growing inside you and of course it takes its toll on you. and i'm right here beside you every step of the way." he finishes his loving speech with a tender kiss on your forehead as his strong arms wrap around your now slightly shaking form as you sob, utterly moved by his words and also the hormones.

"thank you, Satoru. i really appreciate it. you always know what to say when i'm feeling down." your words are cut off by loud sobs but he patiently waits for you to finish as he rubs your back soothingly while nuzzling his face in your neck.

"any time, baby. i love you." he whispers in your ear, "i love you too, toru." you say back, continuing to sob in his arms for a while before you eventually calm down and he guides you to bed, encouraging you to take some much-needed rest.

"and don't worry about your job. you can take some time off or quit altogether. i have more than enough to pay for our family and the next generations to come-", "ok, stop bragging!" you chuckle, "i'm just saying, baby. i've been dying to spoil you. now's my chance. let me take care of you. you don't have to go through this alone. in fact, i won't even let you." he chuckles lightly and crashes his lips onto yours, pulling away with a loud smack as you both lay in bed, limbs tangled together, "you already spoil me." you mention with a slight pout, "and i'm gonna do it even more. you deserve it, baby. don't worry about anything. i've got it." he says while softly caressing your cheek, admiring your glowing beauty illuminated by the faint bedside light.

you slowly start to feel the sleep creeping in and drift away into a slumber as you mumble a quiet 'thank you', curling into Satoru's side as he holds you so lovingly while you think to yourself how you've been blessed with the best, most loving and supportive partner anyone could ever ask for.

[shrimpybbq]

rafe experiences the comfort of a mother

synopsis: rafe appears on his girlfriend’s doorstop, badly burnt and in need of care and affection

Rafe stood in front of the guest room, body stiff and hand frozen against the wooden door. He wanted to knock, he really did, and yet he was hesitant. Only the day before had the couple fought, screaming and shouting until both were out of breath. Rafe had watched his sweet girl leave with teary eyes and he’d felt bad, his heart twisting as she had slammed the door in his face. It was the same door he finally knocked on after realising he’d been motionless for too long. The rap of his knuckles echoed and for a moment, he wondered if she wouldn’t answer the door at all, until a creak sounded. Rafe raised his gaze to see his girlfriend standing in front of him, her fists rubbing the sleep away from her eyes.

“R-rafe? What are yo-”, she began to ask, voice heavy with tiredness, the hour late. It wasn’t until she looked at him properly that she paused, taking in his entire state. Rafe was standing there, clutching his arm to his chest protectively. It wasn’t the childlike pose that caught her eye though, no - it was the way Rafe’s eyes were filled with unshed tears and his bottom lip wobbling ever so subtly.

“Are you ok?” She asked gently, as if she were talking to their son. Rafe could only shake his head side to side, slowly pulling his arm away. At the sight of the red and blistering flesh, she gasped loudly, “Oh my god! What happened?”.

“I-uh, I got into some trouble,” Rafe responded timidly, full of shame and in pain.

“Come here,” his girlfriend said, gently ushering him into the guest room, “sit down. Have you cleaned this?” She asked. Again he shook his head, leading her to hum lowly. “Ok, I’ll need to clean it. Gimme a sec.”

Rafe sat on the bed patiently as he took in the room. He’d never been in there since she began sleeping in there, now taking in all the little trinkets she had lying around. He had been trying to get her to move back into his room but she still refused, and the pair used the nursery as a mutual zone.

His musings were cut off by a gentle voice questioning him.

“What happened Rafe?”

“It’s nothing, just an accident, you know?” Rafe grumbled out as she began to wet antiseptic pads in front of him. She looked up at him, gaze incredulous.

“This is bad, Rafe. You don’t just get something like this accidentally! You said you got into trouble before - what did you mean by that?” She questioned. Rafe sighed, having underestimated just how much she would question him, but he should’ve expected that, he thought to himself. When he didn’t answer, she began to clean his arm.

The sharp stinging sensation that travelled through him as the antiseptic touched his burn made Rafe jump, his voice exclaiming in shock. It was that sudden pain that caused the unshed tears in his eyes to spill over, and it was like once he started he couldn’t stop. All his pain and worries spilled out of him, the tears streaming down his face.

“Oh baby, it’s ok, come here,” he heard her say, cleaning forgotten as she pulled his head into her chest. Whenever she had comforted Rafe in the past, this had been his favourite position, curled up against her chest and having his hair stroked. So she did just that, soothing his heaving sobs with each pass through his hair. “It’s ok Rafe, you’re ok here baby. I’ve got you, ok? Breathe, Rafe.”

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, his sobs wetting the fabric of the tank top she wore. He’d almost completely exhausted himself by the time his sobs stopped, only able to breathe deeply now. It was then his muffled voice could be heard, “it was Barry.”

He felt her stiffen before she tentatively probed further. “Barry, your dealer?”

At the feeling of him nodding, she pulled him away from her chest. Her voice was stern, as if she was talking to a small child,

“Rafe, why is your dealer burning you? What did you do?”

He looked up at her, eyes wide and rimmed with red. He looked just a like their son, she thought, his features so innocent and needy.

“I-I couldn’t pay him back in time… I tried, I really did, but I had this thing and I couldn’t get it all there in time, and I said- I said to him I would get it bu-but he didn’t care,” Rafe began to ramble, his voice pleading with her to understand him. He had been trying to do better, for her - for his family. He watched her sigh, before she returned to clean his wound in silence. Rafe wanted to speak, to explain himself more but he didn’t know what to say, and the idea of her disappointed gaze upon him once more sealed his lips. The feeling of her fingers smoothing a burn cream over his wound tenderly had him curling back into her chest.

She began to card her fingers back through his blonde locks, feeling Rafe relax against her. When he was upset he would be one of two ways: angry and reactive, or clingy and touch-starved. Today, it was clear he was the latter. She couldn’t bare to leave him alone like this, and so she gently whispered,

“Come here baby, let’s get you into bed, ok?”

Rafe pulled away, his eyes wide as he looked up upon her face.

“Here?”

She nodded and began to pull the covers away, creating a space for him to shuffle in. Rafe allowed himself to be guided under the quilt and he couldn’t help but sigh at the feeling of her fingers tenderly brushing his messed-up strands away from his forehead. As he made space for her beside him, Rafe watched his girlfriend pull away from the bed.

“Nononono-” he began to mutter, only to be cut off. His hand was outstretched pathetically to try and keep her by his side, scared to be alone.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. I’m just going to the nursery. I thought you’d want him to stay with us tonight,” she soothed, watching surprised as Rafe shook his head in response.

“No, let him sleep. Just c’mere,” he mumbled, dragging her into his side and under the blankets. Within seconds Rafe had found his position for the night, curled up into her side, his head resting on her chest once more. He was so sullen and quiet as he listened to her heartbeat, hands clutching at her waist.

“Goodnight Rafe,” she uttered sleepily, the events of the night catching up to her.

“I love you,” he said quietly, his voice muffled against her chest. He didn’t say it often, preferring to show his love for her through actions, but she always knew it. With a soft kiss against the crown of his head, she echoed those words back to him, before slipping into unconsciousness,

“I love you too, baby.”