The most valid Doctor Who headcanon that is basically canon is that most trips with the Doctor are relatively uneventful and ordinary, but we don't see them because it's an adventure series. We only see the times when things go wrong.
We do get glimpses of the ordinary trips, like in Turn Left, which begins with the Doctor and Donna just hanging out in a futuristic marketplace.
Or in The Girl Who Waited, when the Doctor tried to take the Ponds to a resort planet before finding out it's under quarantine.
I think the most hilarious place to put Post-Canon Sokka would have been the university at Ba Sing Se. I think he would have made a great unhinged professor. Also, in true Sokka fashion, he should have completely dodged fame. Momo is more famous than he is.
He wants to demonstrate to the class how this thing called electricity works, so he's going to be bringing in a Firebender, so everybody be cool, we're all friends here... and in walks Princess Azula of the Fire Nation. One-time conqueror of the city. One of the students is currently writing an essay on how her brief rule of the city affected fruit trade. She says she considers the class to still be her subjects as she doesn't acknowledge any pretenders to any of her thrones, but for now you're exempted from bowing and "Your Highness" will do. It's a really interesting lecture.
"Okay, guys - hey, listen up, everyone - I won't be here next week, me and Aang are going to-" yeah right, sure, Professor Sokka knows the Avatar. Except, of course, the Avatar walks in sheepishly and says that Appa might have gotten into Sokka's hybrid crops, and then you all have to sit there and watch your professor chase the Avatar around with a sword.
One postgrad student is specializing in Water Tribe Cultures. She's currently studying the massive cultural shift that happened in the Northern Water Tribe at the end of the war - oh, and Professor, I absolutely know that you're from the Southern Water Tribe, but it's just that the shift started with Master Katara, and of course I don't think that every person from the South knows one another haha it's just that I need to ask her some questions and I thought maybe you could help me write a letter or write a letter of introduction or...
Sokka looks at her blankly and goes "yeah, she's my sister. KATARA!" which is followed by a faint answering "fuck you!" from Somewhere and to the horror/elation of our postgrad, Master Katara bursts in and is promptly beaned in the head with a rock by Professor Sokka. Her brother. her hero and her professor are siblings and currently brawling on the floor.
Sokka does not teach or study history, but he does sometimes sit in on lectures about recent history. Whenever he does, several doctoral students flock in to sit near him (even if it's an intro course) so that they can eavesdrop on his grumbling. (No matter how they try, an "overheard utterance" is not a valid source according to their professors. No, we have no sources on the Avatar's bison taking part in combat - sky bison are not war animals and...)
He gets regular deliveries with the Beifong family crest on them, and he goes "sweet, Toph must have found some new minerals" and at this point nobody needs to ask which Toph. He seems to have friends everywhere, literally everywhere. Wang was headed out to this massive swamp to study if it's one big organism, and Sokka told him to find some guy named Hue and "don't mind the loincloth." One time the university gets shut down because the Earth King wants to visit. Oh, visit the University? What an honor- Of fucking course not, he wants to visit Professor Sokka, who yells at him and his royal guards for interrupting his day. The Earth King and his many, many royal guards then sheepishly say sorry and file out.
The last straw is when - not a week after he yelled at the Earth King - the assistant head of the Political Science dept walks in to the faculty lounge to find Sokka having tea with a nice normal man dressed in Earth greens for once, and can't resist a little joke. "Let me guess, you're having tea with the Fire Lord." And then she can instantly tell that she fucked up, because both of them go stock still.
So when the two men awkwardly stand up and proceed to introduce the Fire Lord whose portrait she has in her office because she is the assistant head of Political Science as Li, a server at the Jasmine Dragon, she just says "hello Li" and leaves to find a bottle of something strong.
What would our Sy be like the day he comes back from deployment? đ„ș
Summary: Syverson returns from a long deployment to reunite with his woman.Â
Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader (No description of ethnicity or body type)Â
Word counts: 1k
Warnings: +18, fluff to smut. Oral sex - female receiving, outdoor vaginal sex, unprotected sex, risky creampie, mention of bodily fluids.
A/N: Not betaâd, was in a slight fluffy mood today. Hope youâll enjoy it.Â
Home Sweet HomeÂ
12 hours, 12 freaking hours - thatâs how long it takes to journey back from blazing arid terror. Home, a place that is the arms of the beautiful woman he left behind in exchange for the unforgiving desert.Â
A bargain worthy of nought.
Drumming his fingers upon his thigh, the Captain sits quietly at the backseat of the taxi, adjusting his hat here and there and wondering how long your hair must be by now. His is definitely longer since youâve last seen him, a curly nest of golden-brown, the tips burnt days of labouring in the sun.
His beard has lengthened as well, only by a slight, though amid a wilderness of dark frizzle, a dust of silver hair appeared as if out of nowhere.
âThatâs right, old man, you ainât gettinâ any younger,â he muses and steps out of the cab.Â
âYou are older now than what your dad ever been...â
Itâs not a beautiful day by any means; steel-coloured clouds hunker above the house, casting shadows upon the large man, who stands at the front door holding a large bag and one hand in the pocket of his trousers, toying with a small box between his index and his thumb.
âDarlinâ?â
He calls your name once, yet you are nowhere to be seen, so the Captain ventures through the house toward the backyard. Tiny raindrops tapper on the brim of his hat, whilst the wind is frigid on his cheeks - itâs not a beautiful day, yet there you are in a white summer dress and sandals, tending the fully grown peach tree Syverson planted aeons ago.Â
Taking a moment, he lingers upon the spectacle of his woman all shrouded in sheathes of white, the fabric so bright itâs almost blinding. This could be forever - you and him.Â
If only youâll say yes.Â
The winds blow again, making the skirt of your dress float over your rear and expose a hint of your ample ass. Itâs been too long. His fingers now squeeze the tiny box in his pocket in a sense of unease, his lungs squeezing air faster than possible and in his groin, a sudden pang of arousal stirs. Quiet as a man trained in combat, he slips the bag off his shoulder and begins to creep near, hopeful that youâll remain preoccupied until the moment he is close enough to seize you in his arms.
As very much anticipated, you shriek with surprise, which only makes the large man chortle, making your fright turn into annoyance the moment you realise itâs your Sy. Quickly he turns you and backs you against the bark, his icy glare leaving shards inside your heart.
âSy!â You utter overwhelmed, your gaze already blurry with tears. News scars crest his tanned face and his beard is sporting new shades of grey but the bitter-sweet look in his eyes hasn't changed a bit. Impassioned, his mouth finds yours in a devouring kiss that is all bristle and chaff, his strong hands squeeze at your hips, leaving bruises for sure before he falls to his knees and makes tatters of your panties.Â
âWait!âÂ
âNever,â he proclaims, and not holding his breath for one-second dives his face between your thighs.Â
Leaning against the tree, you squirm your hips into the rhythm of his skilful tongue, your fingers prying into the peeling bark while you ride Syâs scruffy face hard in search of your pleasure. His bearded chin tickles the invigorated skin of your cunt while he fucks you with his mouth and what you fight to hold back for a moment longer bursts from in a violent ecstasy.
Not giving you a moment to climb down from delirium, he jumps back to his feet and lifts you in his arms. Your heart sinks at the click of his belt buckle being undone, briefly making you fret the moment of penetration and when his thick cock splits you open you whine in pain, still you wrap yourself around him, thighs squeezing hard, and let him fuck you right there for all the neighbours to see.
âIâm off the pill,â you warn between moans, âoh fuck, oh god, donât stop.â
Syâs groans soar through the garden, entwining with a deep rumble of thunder that shatters the sky and cascades you with rain. Feral and hopeless you shove against one another, vigorously colliding until you canât tell where you begin and where Sy ends. Heat spills from between your thighs, the burning tendrils of the fire draw through you again and you come once more, sensing his cock swelling painfully thick between your clenching walls.
âFuck, Iâm going to come!â he gasps and slamming into you one last time, buries himself deep in your heat and grants you with the explosion of his hot, bountiful surge. Starlings sing in the depths of your belly as if you can already feel his seed planted within you.
Down on the ground, ripe peaches have fallen from the tree as a result of your vigorous gyrate; they are riddled with droplets of rain, peering back at you while Sy lowers you down to the ground and sweetly kisses your forehead before tucking his spent cock back in his trousers. Surrounded by the succulent leaves of the peach tree, you take a deeper breath, aware of the guilt and shame that follows with the stupid risk you both just took.Â
âWe made a messâŠâ Your breath still quivers as you reach to cup your womanhood, sensing the sticky fluid at your aching, pulsating lips.Â
Sy offers you a faint grin and then without saying another word, falls down to his knees.Â
âThen we better make it right.â He plants a sweet kiss at your pelvic bone and then presses his chin to your belly while staring at you with the eyes of a lost child.
âDarlinâ...â he begs, reaching his hand to his pocket to find the little box he guarded for 12 months through fire and lead.
Who Framed Roger Rabbit is a movie first and foremost about the destruction of minority neighborhoods and public transit by the American car industry. After that, it's a technological milestone. And then it's about cartoons
This week, I read a fic that was around 20 years old, which had originally been posted on the author's personal website and which she added to AO3 a few years ago. She listed her email address with the fic, so after I finished reading, I sent her an email saying how much I enjoyed the story, how much I appreciated the work and effort she obviously put into it, and thanked her for uploading it to AO3. She responded the next day and thanked me for my message, then said she had a few more stories in the same series that she hadn't gotten around to uploading. I checked this morning--she added a 35,000 word novella and thanked me in the summary.
Secret Santa gift for @the-modern-typewriter
Prompt: "Scary villain x hero in a Christmas setting of your [the writer's] choice. Could go spicy, could go whumpy, could go unexpectedly sweet!"
Hope you like this! Merry Christmas!! đ đ
âYou recognised me,â the villain observes, his tone unnaturally flat. His face betrays no emotion.
âKinda hard not to, with yourâŠâ â the hero tilts their head at where the villainâs magic continues to spread, coiling around their limbs and securely fixing them in place â ââŠsnake thingies?â
The individual tendrils really do vaguely resemble snakes, although the magic in its entirety reminds them more of some writhing alien monster plant from an old Sci-fi B-movie whose title they cannot remember. Itâs not a good comparison anyway. The movie hadnât been scary at all.
They experimentally try to wrestle one of their arms free, but despite the magicâs apparent fluidity, the moment they push or pull in any direction, whatever give appeared to be there all but disappears and they canât move a millimetre.
âOh.â The villainâs eyes widen. âYou can see it.â
âSee it. Feel it. Didnât expect it to be this hot.â
An awkward pause follows.
They are decidedly not blushing. Itâs just warm. All of them is so warm now that the villainâs powers have moulded themselves around the hero like something liquid but alive. Wherever the tendrils touch bare skin â their ungloved hands and that area just above their ankles where their pants donât quite meet the rims of their boots â the raw energy buzzes, prickles just short of stinging.
Theyâd been shivering just minutes ago in their much too thin poncho and the not seasonally appropriate Agency office uniform. Well, they still are shivering, just no longer from the cold.
Where the villainâs magic is fever-hot, his scrutiny runs icy.
âYou can see it, but not fight it,â he muses. âHow curious. The Agency must be understaffed to send their defenceless little office drones out into the field.â
The hero would be glaring if the villain werenât underscoring the point by pulling his magic tighter with the mere flick of a finger. That small, anxious sound that escapes them in response brings a self-satisfied grin to the villainâs lips.
âItâs Christmas,â the hero says, once the magic has settled again.
The villain raises a brow.
âMost of the regulars are on holiday, Christmas being a time best spent with family ⊠or so Iâm told.â
âYet you are working.â
âDonât have anyone.â They arenât technically without family just ⊠Sometimes, family isnât a place of refuge and welcome. Not a home to turn to for holiday celebrations or company. Some families fashion themselves exclusive clubs with strict rules that refuse or revoke memberships as they please. The hero forces some levity into their tone. âI have nowhere else to be today, so, Iâm helping out here.â
The villain chuckles. âHelping is perhaps not what I would call that.â
âHey, I did recognise you,â they say, defensively.
âAnd look where that got you.â His smile is sharper than before, meaner. âAm I your first villain? My heartfelt condolences.â
They donât dignify that with an answer. But the answer is yes. The villains they watched being interrogated through one-way mirrors at HQ don't count.
âPity,â the villain says with zero warmth, âthat you couldnât just look the other way. What is it with you people that you're always so eager to cause unnecessary conflict.â
âReporting suspicious behaviour is kind of my job.â It comes out barely above a whisper and carries the distinct cadence of an apology.
âAh yes, and my mere existence struck you as suspicious behaviour because âŠâ
Admittedly, once theyâd recognised the villain, they hadnât taken the time to consider his appearance beyond the magic heâd been wearing around his shoulders like a particularly weaponizable scarf. The lack of a combat suit in favour of a sleek, dark coat over a woollen jumper and cargo joggers â either an outfit designed to blend in or just what the villain happens to like to wear when he isnât working â hadnât registered any more than the total absence of weaponry other than his powers. And while he could have hidden those better, itâs not like he could have simply left them at home.
There hadnât been time to ponder. It had all happened so fast. Their eyes had met, and a moment later the hero had already been scrambling away from the crowd, past a stall selling mulled wine and into the nearest alley, where theyâd scrolled through their contacts with stiff, unfeeling fingers. The villain had caught up with them before theyâd managed to call for backup.
Their gaze darts to the remnants of their smashed phone, sprinkled across the muddy snow, mere metres away but entirely useless even if they could reach it.
What if the villain hadnât had anything nefarious planned? What if the heroâs brain had naturally jumped to the most prejudiced conclusion all on its own?
Of course, it is unfair to treat his mere presence as if it is a crime. But the things he could do ...
They think about the parents with their cameras, filming their ice-skating children, the squealing toddlers on the merry-go-round, the nice old ladies selling tea out of the back of a car.
âYou could be a danger to all those innocent people,â they defend their judgement.
âAnd you could be a danger to me,â the villain replies coolly. âWould be unwise, letting someone roam free who can pick me out of a crowd with a glance. Perhaps I should thank you for revealing yourself. Very ill-advised. But quite convenient. You were so obvious about it, too.â
He has crossed the distance between them while speaking. Close enough now to reach out and tuck an unruly strand of hair behind their ear with his cold, slender fingers. His other hand settles almost gently on their throat, atop the magic that has slivered around their neck at some point during the conversation.
The tip of a new tendril is in the process of worming its way lower, nestling into the collar of their shirt. It laps against the crook of their neck and they cringe away from the touch as much as the magic allows. It doesnât hurt. It would be so much easier if it did. The touch is light; it kind of tickles and, given the overall direness of the situation, the hero really isnât in the mood for that. Or, they shouldnât be.
Unhelpfully, their traitorous mind supplies them with a thoroughly inappropriate image of what else someone who isnât the enemy could be doing to them with magic such as this.
âTell me,â the villain says as the power shifts upwards, tilting their chin back with the movement, so his nails can bite into the newly exposed skin below their jaw, âis there anything else troublesome about you, or is it just the eyes?â
He looks most pleased when their breath hitches despite their best efforts to remain stoic. His grip tightens. Heâs studying them intently, staring at their eyes like those are priced gems he considers adding to his collection.
Maybe, underneath the mockery, he actually does consider them somewhat of a threat. If he didnât, why would he be looking at them like that.
Itâs stupid, truly and utterly stupid, to feel flattered. This is not respect, they know, just sharp, calculating consideration. His attention promises imminent danger, might turn lethal at any second. Itâs not something they should revel in. Still, it feels good, too â being seen.
Has anyone ever really seen them before?
Or perhaps that is the lack of oxygen speaking.
They struggle to focus their vision but all the twinkling Christmas lights in the trees are starting to smudge into dull, red and golden blurs. Vertigo is clawing at them.
There is absolutely nothing they can do against the villain's grip. They're so pitifully out of their depth.
They think about their bland, only half-furnished two-room apartment; their first day at the Agency HQ; their nth day â no more eventful than the first â sitting at the exact same desk in the exact same office and working on the exact same old computer; their colleaguesâ looks of pity when their 14th application for a transfer to field work is being denied and their boss tells them, in stern admonishment, that their skill sets just arenât suited to solo missions. They think about her condescending smile when she finally does assign them the Christmas market job, clearly convinced the worst thing that could possibly happen here is people getting drunk enough on punch to start throwing punches.
They think of their first split-second impression of the villain as just another guy standing by the ice rink with a cup of something steaming in his hands and a mellow, unguarded smile curving his lips.
They hope this montage doesnât count as their life flashing before their eyes. Itâs way too sad a summary of their depressing lack of accomplishments.
They think, with equal parts age-old bitterness and new-found sarcastic vindication, about their colleaguesâ infantile, unofficial, end-of-the-year office rankings where flashier heroes with more impressive abilities always receive titles such as most likely to hook up with a hot reporter or most epic battle or best one-liners.
Meanwhile, all the hero has to show for are three consecutive wins of least likely to die on the job.
Which might have been a reassuring sentiment if it werenât so clearly code for âyouâll never be a real heroâ. Real heroes risk their lives on the job all the time.
Well, look at them now!
Will their colleagues manage to come up with a new title for them in time, they wonder, if the villain kills them now, just a week before this yearâs poll results will be released?
Most unexpected death has a nice ring to it.
They should be trembling in terror. Might have, if the villainâs magic werenât encasing them so â tight but soft and deceptively warm, lulling them in. The sticky heat of it leaves them squirming, stuck in a confusing limbo between gooey not-quite-discomfort and hot-bath sluggishness.
Theyâre drifting. Until theyâre not.
Itâs impossible to discern how much time has passed or when exactly the villain has released them; but their thoughts are beginning to clear and their brain catches up to the fact that there is air in their lungs again, and that the breathless, hiccuping gasps uncontrollably tumbling out of their mouth arenât sobs. Itâs laughter.
âAre you enjoying this?â The villain sounds incredulous.
They shake their head. âI donât know,â they manage, between hysterical giggles. âMaybe. Yes?â
âHow did you know I wouldnât kill you?â
âI didnât.â
That startles a short laugh out of him.
âIâve neverâ â they pant, still struggling for air â âfelt this alive before.â
âThat sounds ... unhealthy.â
There is a long pause in which the villain silently stares at them while they are more or less regaining control over their breathing.
âYou wouldnât get it,â they say then, perfectly aware they must seem most unhinged. âBet you don't even know what boredom is. Because your life is fun. Mine is not. I practically live at my stupid job, and my stupid job doesn't even pay well. No one there gives a fuck about me. And nothing exciting ever happens. So can I please just have this one damn moment without being judged?â
The villain hums, low. âAnd here I thought we were ruining each otherâs days.â He presses a hand to their forehead. âDid the heat fry your synapses?â he asks, sounding more amused than concerned. His other hand comes up to cup the nape of their neck, as if he canât help but reach out. Just as they canât help but lean into the cooling touch. His gaze drops, as if drawn, to their lips. âOr, are you just naturally this unusual?â
They can smell gingerbread and mulled wine on his breath.
âAre you going to kiss me?â they ask, because yes their synapses are definitely fried and they do not care about consequences, awkwardness, or sanity anymore.
âWould you like me to kiss you?â
âIâd certainly much rather be kissed than killed. Obviously.â
âObviously,â he repeats, smirking. âBut we've established Iâm not about to kill you. And that wasnât a yes.â
âItâs not a no either.â
âNot how consent works, darling.â
They scoff. âYou didnât ask for consent first when you strangled me five minutes ago.â
The villain laughs again, in genuine delight judging by how his magic ripples and purrs.
âOkay, fair enough,â he whispers, shifting so his lips almost brush theirs.
The kiss that follows is sweet, surprisingly chaste, and initiated by the hero.
âSo, since you mentioned earlier you have nowhere else to be today,â the villain says, afterwards, mischief gleaming in his eyes. âHave you ever had the pleasure of being kidnapped?â
Pleasure, as it turns out over the course of the next few hours, is an understatement.
If anyone at the office were to find out what the hero has been up to during their first (and best) and possibly only solo field mission, not only are they guaranteed to get fired, their colleagues will also surely create an entirely new office ranking category in their honour:
Joe Bennett, co-creator of Scavenger's Reign, just posted this on his instagram:
"As of right now, Scavengers Reign is not being renewed for a second season.
I wanted to let everyone know directly because I really love our fanbase, they've been such champions for the show, and I don't want to leave everyone hanging.
We've had to fight tooth and nail every step of the way to get this show made, starting all the way back in 2016 with the Scavengers short film to the release of the first season last year.
It's a case study for believing in something and persevering through a million and one hurdles. But, it got made, thanks especially to so many people who supported it along the way, in big and small ways. I want to thank some of those people, starting with my co-creator Charles Huettne, Chris Prynoski and everyone at @titmouseinc, my home base at @greenstreetpictures, the writers, directors, and so many incredible artists who worked tirelessly on the show, and the folks at Max who were incredible partners to work with.
But this is not the end. There is more story to be told, we are ready to make another season, and we produced in-house at Green Street a teaser for what was going to come in the second season.
Thanks again to everyone who watched and supported the show."
A/N: Some yummy content for our glorious king đđ
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, unprotected sex, age gap implied
Gojo Satoru was obsessed with you from the moment he laid his icy blue eyes on you. He knew he needed you, in a way he couldnât explain, you were made for him, he could feel it. Fantasies of spoiling you, kissing you and touching you forever played on his mind.
So once you finally gave the business tycoon a chance, he wasted no time making his admiration known. You havenât been dating for long but you sure knew how he felt about you through his touchy ways.
âSo how was college today princess?â He says casually, as if his tall 6â3 figure isnât towering over you, making you hyper aware of the size difference.
You both sat on his leather sofa in his large monochromatic living room. A dim light from the crystal lamp that glowed amber.
âOh it was okayâ you manage to say with a smile. His long pale finger twirling strands of your hair, âoh yeah?â He purrs with a devious smile, as he watches your poor attempt to keep your composure, he knew his sweet girl wouldnât last long though. Not when youâre already blushing and squirming in your seat.
He leans in closer and takes off his sunglasses as if to create more tension, before asking âyou didnât miss me too much did you?â
Trick question, he was setting you up, either answer leads to a dangerous territory.
However you couldnât deny his scheming flirty ways and the authority he had over you didnât turn you on. You tear your gaze away from his entrancing eyes and fiddle with his shirt, âum well..â
âY/n~â he sings your name out when you donât answer.
His bulge now pressing against you, you gasp from the sudden contact but that doesnât stop him from grinding against your clothed pussy painfully slow. You feel the hardness cause friction between your sensitive area until you had a wet patch exposing your desire. You hear a stifled laugh from Gojo as he reaches down to play with the wet material. Pervert.
Suddenly you find yourself dry humping him too, chasing that delicious feeling it gave you. He smiles widely at your contorted face, eyes closed, gosh youâre so cute when he has you like this.
âOh GojoâŠâ you sigh
âSay itâ
âI missed you too much!â You gasp as your hands weakly attempt to pull his grey sweatpants down.
âHey hey slow down princess, Iâll take them off for you okay? You know Iâd never deny you anything right?â He says, with a soft chuckle. You nod your head in agreement.
And so as you hold eye contact with his intense gaze on you, his hands travel down, pulling down his sweatpants and boxers at once, exposing his girthy cock, pre cum glistening at his pink tip.
He gives it a few pumps with his own hand, and all you could do is stare in awe before he placed his cock into your own trembling hand, much to your surprise.
âYour turnâ he says with a flirty wink, and you blink a few times, before getting to work. You knew the drill, if you wanted him inside you, you need to work for it.
Your much smaller hands pumped his now wet cock, smearing more wetness along the length, the cold feeling of the diamond bracelet he bought you touches his skin, causing him to shiver in pleasure. His hands were still entangled in your head as he let out a strangled moan. âOh youâre so good to me y/n, such a good girl for meâ he whispered.
âYou deserve it donât you?â He asks. And you know what heâs referring to. âYeahâ
âTake it off thenâ
Upon command, you waste no time leaving his length to undress yourself, taking off your panties to welcome him. He has a content smile as he watches you adoringly, hands behind his head.
Once youâre finally undressed, Gojo grabs you by the hips and pulls you to him to line his tip up with your folds.
Now it was a harmonious team effort of moans between you and Gojo, both immediately lost in pleasure as he pushes his length into you after promising to only âstart with the tipââ liar, he knew he didnât have such self control when it came to you.
The power of his thrusts rocks your hips back and forth. At some point your screams of his name overtakes his loud moans from when you grab the white strands of his hair in desperation. Your back arches in pleasure but Gojo is quick to press you back down with just one hand.
âCanât miss me when Iâm buried inside you yeah?â He rasps as his pace quickens and you knew you were close.
Youâre unable to respond as you become a whimpering mess, responding with nothing but another scream as your vision blurs. He moans as he feels his own high too, âyes yes yes thatâs it, yes!â pressing himself closer to you into a mating press as you both cum, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as he releases his hot white cream into you with a lewd moan.
Your chest heaves from the aftermath. But your strong, older boyfriend holds you in his warm embrace. You wrap your arms around his neck, letting him press flat against you as you both catch your breath.
Once you finally escape the euphoria, you look up from Gojoâs chest to see him already staring at you with a lovesick smile. How could someone hold so much love for you after only knowing you for a while?
âSuch a sweet girlâ he praises as he strokes your cheek with his thumb, jokingly booping your nose just after to make you laugh.
âForget college tomorrow, spend some time with me instead okay?â he says pressing a kiss to your cheek as you scoff knowing damn well you wonât be able to walk tomorrow anyways.
Your husbandâs scratchy moan is followed by a tug to your hair. Heâs got your locks in his firm, veiny grip, using it to guide your mouth up and down his flushed cock like you were nothing but a human fleshlight made just for him.
The kitchen clock ticks and youâre on your knees, still in your office blazer and figure-hugging skirt.
It was usually customary for you to greet your husband like thisâlike heâs pure treasure and deserves your devotion on these marbled tiles. Theyâre the same ones you bought with your twelve-month bonus, right when the company you spearheaded burst into the tech scene and started raking in the billions.
Through it all, Nanami Kento was with you, building your home while you changed the world.
More than anything, he was the rock which kept you from falling apart, but if they could see you now⊠how your mouth was slicked with a mixture of cum and spit and your eyes were woozy with bliss, they couldnât tell that you were the same woman who once fired three directors on account of an embezzlement accusation.Â
He pulled you off his flushed tip, those chiselled cheeks dusted with pink. Reacting like this, he was nothing more than an enamoured husband adoring his wife on her knees. But, you had been bad to him today, and bad girls didnât deserve what they wanted. They needed to be put back in their place.Â
Nanami tugged you up higher, enough to have you balancing on the slivers of your shins. His mouth found yours, insistent and hot with his lustful intention.
âDo you want your collar, baby?â His mouth was a stroke away from yours, warm breath caressing your tongue.
You nodded, not trusting your voice to break. The planes of your husbandâs defined chest shook in a soft laugh as he let go of your hairâfor now.
âGo and grab it, sweetheart. I'll wait for you.â
You did as he said, standing up on shaky legs that were riddled with pins and needles. He steadied you, looking ridiculously handsome even with his half-chub out and tiny pink apron still on. Nanami was just a man who could make even a trash bag work.
You stumbled into the bedroom, going straight for a drawer that was shut tightly. Using the key next to your perfume stand, you unlocked it, removing a smooth, dark leather strap with the words âKentoâs girlâ embedded into it with diamonds.
You heard your husband come back into the room, his body pressed behind yours as he took the collar from your shaking hands. Pushing your hair aside, he fastened it around your neck with a kiss to your earlobe.
âShall we go back to what we were doing earlier?â
You slid back into your knees in response, shuffling to face him again. Those dark eyes appraised you with pride, tinged with an even darker possession.
âAlways so pretty for me,â he hummed. âArenât you, my little slut?â
A dirty thrill shot down your spine, and you parted your mouth open on instinct. âYes, Sir.â
Kento chuckled, giving his hard-hard cock a few pumps before nursing it back into your mouth. You sucked on the tip, tasting his musk and salt. Hollowing your cheeks, you took him deeper, till he hit the back of your throat, and whatever else you couldnât fit, you fisted around the base of his cock to work it up and down.
Your husband hissed out a curse, and wound your hair back into his tight grip, watching you suck him off with barely concealed wonder. âDoing so good for me, love,â he murmured, a sharp tug on the nape of your neck making you wince and your pussy flood your red lace thong. âAnd to think you were just mouthing off to me earlier.â
You squirmed on your knees, needing to touch between your legs to ease the flame of desire only your husband could burn.
Kento used his sheer strength to pull you off his cock, and as if still punishing you, he slapped the tip of his fat dick onto your cheeks, coaxing your mouth open so he could do the same thing on your tongue. You didnât complain, glad to be used as a stress reliever for your husband.
Pre-cum smeared your cheeks and spit was glossing your chin when you took him back down your throat again, this time with more urgency.
Kento was breathing deeper, his half-hooded eyes almost closing from your talented mouth. No one could suck cock as well as his wife could, and he would stand firm in that.
Your sheer hunger and eagerness blew everyone else out of the water, the devotion only you showed him shaping his unshakable love for you.
âDo you think youâre forgiven because I let you suck my cock?â
Before you could answer, you were wrenched off his dick, pushed back into your knees. Your cry of indignation was stopped when he shoved two thick fingers down your throat, gagging you with a wet choke.
You worked hard to please himâto apologise to him because you didnât mean those words; they were just a product of a stressful day.
Itâs not like you understand what the fuck Iâm going through, Kento. Youâre just a househusband who spends all day cleaning.
Careful, those dark eyes had narrowed at you. Do you want to repeat that, darling?
I saidâ
But, he never gave you a chance to finish.
As if remembering your painful words, Kento grunted, bringing you to your feet just so he could spread you face down, ass up onto your huge makeup counter. The mirror reflected back your desperate stare into your husbandâs impassive face, his collar searing through your skin.
âKentoââ
Rough hands from days of labour pushed your skirt up, tugging your thong unceremoniously down your cheeks where the fabric burned against your sensitive skin. âAhâ!â
The first spank landed on your left globe, leaving a stinging pain on the tender flesh. He didnât stop thereâKento viciously spanked your right cheek, then back to your left, alternating between them until you swore they were glowing hot like dying embers.
You were wincing and crying out softly, hair stuck to your temple and cheeks with sweat. The woman in the mirror had tears in her eyes, and her husband barely pay attention to herâjust like how she had messed up and thought lowly of him for a split, disastrous second.
âI donât know what youâre going through? Did you forget I used to be a salaryman, too, darling?â
His tone dripped with sardonic anger. Another spank, this time on your lower back. The tears broke down your face.
âIâm going to drill into that pretty head who owns you so you donât mouth back to him. A househusband?â This hit was personal, right on your prickling left cheek. âIs that all you see me as? Do you think of me that lowly?â
Frustrated, Kento yanked your hair back at the same time he plunged two thick fingers into your glistening pussy.
âOhâKento!â
Your cry fell from your lax mouth, your eyes snapping close in ecstasy while he finger-fucked you roughly, tugging on your hair to deliver sharp prickles of torture down your spine.
The pain mixed with the pleasure till you couldnât tell which one was which, your body spiraling closer and closer into delirium.
âKento!â You sobbed, sure to have woken up the neighbors if your bedroom was soundproofed. âOh, oh, ahâf-fuck, K-Kento, I-Iââ
His forefinger was hitting that softest spot inside of you, and you ached to touch your clit to throw yourself down the agonizing high. Without thinking it through, one hand drifted in between your thighs, and you managed about three shaky circles on your sensitive bud with your middle finger when Kento noticed and yanked your hand away. Your soft cry was muffled when he pushed your face into the hard word, breathing unsteadily.
âWho said you could touch yourself? Did I say you were given permission to?â
âN-Noââ
But, Kento refused to listen to your excuses. âYouâre misbehaving more and more tonight. I think I need to teach you an even bigger lesson.â
You could barely cry out a complaint when he manhandled you into his arms, bringing you back into the kitchen. Plopping you down onto the huge dining chair, he left you stewing in your thoughts, tense as to what he had next up his sleeve.
Nanami returned not a minute later with a pair of binders and leg cuffs, and your eyes widened when he immediately took your arms, placing them in the restrictive loop behind the chair. He worked on your legs next, fastening them to the wooden stems, while you pathetically bleated your apologies to him.
Once you were secured, Nanami took you in.Â
Everything about you was softness and seduction, and he couldnât help but feel like he was the luckiest bastard alive. I love her, Kentoâs eyes shone when you blinked up at him, all innocent and cute like you werenât exposed in such a lewd way. I love her so very much.Â
âK-Ken,â you whined, shifting in your seat. The gesture unintentionally hiked your skirt further up your plush thighs.Â
As much as he loved you, Nanami had to put you back in your placeâget you to respect him, even as his cock is raging to sink into your tight heat.
He tapped your cheek, a stern look emblazoned on his handsome face. âThat is not what youâre allowed to call me.â His big hand wrapped around your neck, digging into your pulse pointârestricting the breath from going down your airways. Asserting his point.Â
âSir!â You managed to choke out. âS-Sirââ
Your wheeze turned into a cough when he let you go, your watery eyes looking up at him filled with nothing but remorse.Â
Nanami toyed with the idea of letting you go once the regret settled in, but the other half of himâthat darker impulse which bludgeoned his Jujutsu years with bloodshed and violenceâreared its head. It was the same sickly thrill he got whenever he beat up a curse and managed to squeeze in no more than an hour of overtime to get back home to you.
For your credit, you always let him exact his pent-up rage onto your willing bodyânever bending or breaking your resolve.Â
Even when he walks back into the bedroom to retrieve your most hated G-spot vibrator, or when he sank it almost lovingly into your waiting pussy, you could never hate your husbandâeven if he drove you half mad.Â
Nanami stared at his phone screen, connecting the vibrator to the app it came with. You could tell he was completely focused on breaking you, his eyes never straying when he adjusted the settings.
Soon, a pleasant hum goes off in between your thighs, and you toss your head back, a dulcet whimper leaving your lips and saturating the air with your pure neediness. Your husband doesnât react beyond crossing his arms over his hulking chest, studying you with those intense darkened eyes you could go insane for.Â
The vibrator notch constantly rubbed on your G-spot, leaving your clit throbbing with abject neglect. You almost didnât notice your husband pushing off the sleeves of your blazer, unbuttoning the crisp white dress shirt he had ironed this morning to expose the rise of your heaving tits covered in the red lacy bra he loved so much on you.
âYou wore this today?â He fingered the lacy strap, and you hiccuped a stuttering y-yes. Your husband chuckled, easing down the cups so your nipples sprung forward, ready to be teased and touched. Kento hunched down next to you, his entirely bigger build almost draping across your lap as he ran his tongue over the rise of your plush flesh, growing closer and closer to your stiffening nipples. But, he never gave you what you wanted.Â
Everytime his tongue so much as grazed your areola, he would pull back, leaving you keening with disappointment. Your thighs were starting to shake, the constant pressure on such a susceptible spot slowly making you lose your mind. Without the stimulation Kento was selfishly withholding, you were sure you would be strung along for hours until he decided to show you mercy.Â
As it was, your husband was a stubborn man once he put his mind to something. You could barely think past the haze of your blurry thoughts, your mind filled with cotton when finallyâfinallyâKento sucked on your nipples. It was soft at first, barely any stimulation, but once he had a hit of you, Kento couldnât stop. He suckled on your tits roughly, tonguing them harsh enough to make those sensitive buds throb.Â
Then, he bit down on them, eliciting a soft cry past your swollen lips. Your hips had basically taken on a life of their own, undulating minutely to the cruel game Kento played on your body.Â
Once you were on the precipice, needing just a bit more stimulation to topple over the edge, Kento pulled back. He stopped the vibrator with one tap on the screen, and you came crashing back downâbody slumped against the chair.
âSir,â you sobbed, unable to hold back those fat tears from chasing down your cheeks.Â
Nanami barely gave you time to adjust to the cresting sensations. He stood back up to his full height, toying with his phone and sliding his thumb pad across the screen. The same motions were replicated within the vibrator between your legsâthe alternating softness and sudden vigorous overstimulation wrecking your body into dividing sensations.
You didnât know whether to flinch or lean into the pleasureâwhether to cry or to moan.Â
All you could do was let out a stream of weak Sir, please, ohâSir, past your lax mouth, your body jerking like a puppet caught in the web of his control.Â
If it wasnât enough to torture you, Kento wanted to tease you, too. He continuously pinched your hard nipples, flicking them up and down with the tip of his thumb to get them all perky and desperate for him.Â
He even knelt in between your thighs, looking up at you with those melting dark eyes while his thumb gently rubbed on your twitching clit. Your husband was doing everything in his power to get you to fold for him, and you were so close to putting aside your ego just to beg him to fuck you.
âS-Sir,â you sniffled.Â
Kento glanced up at you, noticing the tears beading your lash line. He swiped his thumb under one bulging tear, wiping it away.
In contrast to his filthy actions, his words were soft and sweet. âWhat do you want, darling?â he added, âDo you want to cum?âÂ
You gave him a shaky nod.Â
âDo you think you deserve to cum?âÂ
Disappointment curdled in your belly at his simple question. Kento was giving you a chance to apologise, and you could either take the high road and beg for his forgiveness, or let your bigheadedness keep you unsatisfied.
âI donât,â you whispered, ducking your head in defeat. Kento hated to admit how a carnal wave of satisfaction curled right in his chest from your admission. âI was mean to you. Y-you did so much for meââ you lifted your hips, as if to alleviate the tense pleasure. ââI-Iâm so sorry, Sir.âÂ
His big hand smoothed down your belly, settling on your hip. He leaned forward, kissing your forehead tenderly. Instead of accepting your apology, he smeared your tears away with patient lips, trailing down kisses to your neck, his tongue running across the collar which held his claim on you.Â
âYouâre forgiven, sweet girl,â your husband murmured, standing up to switch off the vibrator. You sagged back into the seat with a teary hiccup, peeling your glossy eyes on him so pathetically, his heart couldnât help but squeeze. âCome onâletâs get you cleaned up.â
Kento removed your bindings, careful to help you stand up on your trembling legs. He held you close to his chest, rubbing those big, warm hands up and down your back to soothe your shuddering sobs. âThere, there. Youâre alright, baby. Youâre fine.â He lifted you into his arms, careful to tuck your head on his shoulder as he carefully made his way back to the bedroom with you.
There, Nanami reverted back to his loving, devoted selfâremoving your blazer, dress shirt, and pencil skirt with reverence. He lifted your leg onto his shoulder, kissing your ankles before easing off your stockings smoothly. Once you were naked in front of him, it was his turn to undress.
Kento shed off the pink apron, removed his sweatpants and then his fitted cotton shirt, exposing his shredded torso lined with numerous thin, pale white scars. There was once he was afraid of showing them to youâhis past bare for your fingers to trace. But, you loved kissing each and every mark left from wounds he could not explain to you. And Nanami was grateful.
He counted himself one of the luckiest sorcerers to make it out alive of that world and into a semi-normal one. He had a wife, a home, a decent car, plenty of time to unwind and relaxâin short, he was living the dream he once saw as unattainable. And it was all thanks to you.
âCome here, baby.â Kento gathered you into his arms, careful to not put too much pressure on your sore butt. He traced your features, kissed your eyelids and cheeks until you stopped quietly sobbing, all wrung out and lying exhaustively on his chest. âGood girlâjust take a deep breath and tell me what happened.â
His voice was a deep, enticing baritone, inciting goosebumps on your arms and putting your guard down. Your eyes slipped closed and you inhaled unsteadily, fingers digging into his shoulders.Â
âOne of my executives found out her husband was cheating on her and she completely lost it at work today.âÂ
Kento stopped stroking your shoulder. âWhat?âÂ
You nodded, keeping your face buried in his chest to avoid meeting his eyes. âHe was a⊠a stay-at-home husband, too. She trusted him with the nanny andâand that woman knew her kids inside and out. I was so disgusted. I⊠I thought thatââ
âYou thought that I would do the same thing to you?â
Nanami wasnât an idiot. It wasnât hard for him to piece two and two togetherâfor him to see what was truly haunting you.
A minute of hesitation passed, and then, he felt you nod again.Â
Nanamiâs shoulders relaxed, and he tightened his grip on your tinier body. âI love you so much, Y/N. You know that, right? Youâre the best part of my life. Iâm so grateful you chose to marry me.â
His sincerity stopped you up short. You peeked from past your curtain of hair, finding him smiling gently at you.Â
Perching half of your body up, you folded your arms on his chest, looking deeply into his eyes for the absolute truth. âIf you ever fall out of love with me, Kento, please tell me. I wonât put up a fight if you want to leave me. Just donât sneak around behind my back with someone else.â
How serious you looked, and those words⊠those words you spouted completely broke his heart. Kentoâs expression fell, and he shook his head fiercely.
âYou donât get it, do you?âÂ
With barely any grace, he rolled you onto the bed, spreading your thighs around his waist. His hips drove against yours, cock sheathing in one fluid motion into your waiting pussy. The both of you cursed and cried out at the same time, heads thrown back and desire coursing freely in this bedroom.Â
Nanamiâs pace was brutal yet loving, his cock trying to bully into you what he had been desperately trying to show for the past few years youâve both been blissfully married.Â
He loves youâhe would do anything to make you happy because your happiness was his own.Â
âNghhâSir,â you whined, holding onto his biceps for dear life, trying hard not to fall around his cock without his permission. âOhâoh, Kento, more, moreâplease, donât stopâ!â
He wasnât planning to. If he could make you believe with his actions, Kento would keep at it until you finally believed what heâs been feeling for all these years.Â
He smudged endless kisses onto your cheeks, nose and lips, each time tasting your desperation a bit more.Â
âSir, can I please touch myself?âÂ
How sweetâyou were waiting for his permission. In answer, Nanami plucked your hand from your side, placing it right in between your legs, implicitly telling you to pleasure yourself while he ruined your world.Â
The both of you were hanging right on a thread, and the very second he felt your walls starting to melt around him, Kento pulled you in for a deep kiss, one which felt like it could break every resolve in your body. You became putty for him, dissolving into the kiss and his arms.Â
You broke the second you felt his hot cum paint your walls, every fibre of your soul screaming out your husbandâs name. âKento,â you whimpered in between sloppy kisses, your bodies slippery with sweat. âKentoââ
Nanami caught you the second you sagged into his arms. With his ludicrous strength and yet, his gentleness, he easily rolled you against his chest, letting you catch your breath on top of him. His lips found your temple and hair, large palms methodically massaging your sore muscles. He gripped your ass, squeezing fondly and unhurriedly, content to enjoy this moment with you.
When you had finally stilled and your breathing returned to normal, Kento whispered: âI love you, darling. You know that, right?âÂ
Even with your raging insecurities, you couldnât deny how sincere and sweet he sounded.
âI love you, too, Kento.â
Seriously now, he added: âAnd I wonât ever cheat on you because youâd take my car away first.â
You grinned, knowing that Nanami Kento was a man of his word and would never back down from it without a fight.
a/n: mappa made him so damn fuckable in the last ep as reparations for what theyâre gonna do to him next im so sick
