#(i know it almost certainly isn’t but let me dream for a moment)

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

i’m feeling mildly delulu about the caption

[nichuuu]

Analogous

Shin Yuna x Im Nayeon x M reader

(2nd instalment of De Selby)

Word count: 14k+

“A younger girl… And I’m talking much younger. Eight years younger than me I think.”

Normally, it feels like you’re worlds apart from Nayeon in her bed. You’re just her toy, her plaything, her doll.

Tonight though: it feels like she’s in the same world as you. She feels here — emotionally and physically present as her nails trace circles on your bare chest. Maybe it’s a trick of the light, or maybe even classic manipulation, but she feels like more than just someone who you fuck on the weekends.

“And you won’t be jealous?” you ask, indulging yourself and playing with her hair a little. She scoffs.

“You talk like we’re dating.” She shifts so that she has a cheek on your shoulder. A relationship with her wouldn’t really fly: she’s not gonna let you take care of her when she loves control more than anything. Still, it’s nice to dream about holding her hand sometimes. “I have no reason to be jealous, so why would I be?”

(It’s a question you’re asking yourself too honestly.)

“Dunno,” you muse, admittedly a little disheartened, “maybe it’s cause you’re kinda freaky… Just a thought.”

She smirks. “Trust me. A younger girl in this thing we’ve got going on isn’t gonna affect anything.” She starts tapping her nails against your chest. “Besides… You know you’re mine.”

Oh…

(Not sure how to feel about that last part.)

*

Last you checked: you weren’t expecting a guest today. 

“Uh,” you can’t help but mutter past her lips as you stagger back into your own apartment. She lifts her lips off yours out of consideration, and she takes a few moments to soak in the look of mixed emotions that has made its way onto your face. You don’t mean to be rude when you point at the other girl and ask, “do you wanna perhaps wanna, you know, fill me in on what’s going on here?”

Im Nayeon turns, looks over her shoulder, smiles. She turns back, cups your cheek with her hand. 

“Thought I’d bring some company tonight, just to spice things up.” Nayeon tells you, turning your head in a way that lets you get a good look at the younger girl standing at the door to your apartment. “Hope you don’t mind.” With her other hand, she makes a come hither motion, and tells the girl to close the door on her way in. The girl does as she’s told, and when she’s next to the both of you, Nayeon takes her by the hand and pulls her closer. 

“Introduce yourself sweetie,” Nayeon instructs—firm yet almost saccharine. Nayeon lets her thumb rub over the girl’s knuckles, a deceivingly sweet smile playing on her lips. “Tell him what we’ve rehearsed. Go on.”

She’s an eye-catcher for sure—the other girl, not Nayeon. Not that Nayeon isn’t already turning heads when she walks just about anywhere, but more that the other girl is just a rather far cry from what you're comfortable with. You’re so used to Nayeon’s gentle, piercing eyes that can probably break you with a look from her; those small, plump lips of hers that kiss you with precision and passion; those bunny cheeks that you love pinching so damn much that it probably should be considered an addiction. But this girl brings something new to the table, and you have to admit that it’s refreshing. 

Smoky, kinda innocent eyes that have a whole foot in the territory of doleful and another foot in the realm of entrancing; luscious long black hair; a face that could make just about anyone melt. Nayeon’s guest is certainly a few years younger than her, and certainly less lecherous than her senior at first glance. You don’t really know where or how Nayeon could pick up a girl that looks as sweet as this, and you certainly want to find out how a girl that looks like the textbook definition of ‘smoking hot’ could ever end up in a place like this. She’s clearly nervous, but you give her credit for being able to stand perfectly still with Nayeon’s hand starting to roam up her arm. 

“I’m Yuna… But you can call me whatever you want.”

The sentence has Nayeon’s fingerprints all over it, and you can assume with full certainty that she’s had this idea stewing in her head for at least a week or two. The smug grin on Nayeon’s face tells you that things are going according to plan, and her fingers latch themselves around Yuna’s forearm. 

“She’s a fun one to play with.” Now she’s directed her attention to you, looking right at you as she pulls the younger woman even close to the both of you: till you can literally feel Yuna’s breath in your ear. “A young little slut to spice things up.”

Nayeon takes her attention away from you, and with gentle hands on Yuna’s cheeks, she pulls the younger girl in for a kiss. It’s simple—no tongue or anything—but it’s enough to make the younger girl squirm a little where she stands. Nayeon’s clearly taking pleasure in this. Even with her lips locked with a girl younger than her, you can clearly see the whisper of a cheeky smile playing on the corners of her lips. You wonder if she’s gonna get more joy out of this than you at the end of the day.

The younger girl is released from the fierce lip-lock. She looks dazed, like she just took a hit of a blunt. Nayeon admires her craftsmanship for a moment, taking in the look on the poor girl’s face as she chuckles softly to herself, “oh my… Someone wasn’t quite ready, was she?”

Yuna’s at a clear loss for words. She tries to speak; her words fail her. You can’t exactly blame her though. Nayeon just kinda chooses when and where to be a bit of a minx, and you just have to roll with it. It’s fun, kinda hot; but not when you’re in a horrible place to get it and she decides that she just wants to blow you at some restaurant that you’re at. It’s a bit of a handful really, and you don’t quite know what to do with her sometimes. Wonder how Yuna fares?

“It’s okay,” Nayeon assures her, “you’re in good company now, though you're free to just watch if you’re still shy.”

The younger girl looks at her senior, then at you, then back to her senior. “I think I’d like to join in on this.”

Nayeon beams, her smile almost sweet if it isn’t for the fact that she’s quite literally happy to see a younger girl get it on with you and her. “That’s the spirit.”

And it’s confusing really: figuring out which of them is gonna make the first move. Yuna’s energy gives her an air of uncertainty, but you can sense some mischief within her that resonates at the same frequency of Nayeon’s. Yet there’s something a little different about her that you can’t quite place your finger on. Her youth is a breath of fresh air; there’s that young energy in her smile towards Nayeon that tells you that she’s eager but somewhat cautious. You would call her a mirror of Nayeon as they start discussing how she wants it, but you pick up on a bit of pickiness in her voice  that strays from Nayeon’s attitude. The older girl before you will take it however she likes, fuck herself on your cock till she cums and kinda leave you high and dry. Yuna on the other hand has some grungy ideas of where she wants you to cum and how she wants it to happen.

Okay, let’s return to home base and consolidate: they're similar but different; kinda conflicting yet go together like dinner and diatribes on a family reunion. There’s reason to believe that they are somewhat two sides of the same coin, yet simple observation contradicts the notion. Bottom line – it’s confusing.

“You know what?” Nayeon has a finger twirled in Yuna’s hair as she casts a glance at you. “How about we get you naked first… Then we figure out what we can do?”

Yuna seems to enjoy the proposal. The two women look at you, and Nayeon gestures with her head to come closer. As your feet land on the wood floor, Nayeon goes at a slower pace of walking as she rounds Yuna and stands behind her. She’s shorter than her by a considerable amount, but it doesn’t make her any less imposing as she pokes her head out from Yuna’s right side.

“Go on. Unwrap her,” Nayeon whispers, running a hand up Yuna’s stomach. “Let’s see what she has in store for us…”

And Yuna is more than glad to lift her arms up for you as you pull her sweater off her body. The girl has an amazing body – you’d give her that. Slim waist, wide hips, hourglass figures so defined that the sands of time would be jealous. A body to die for really, and the appeal only increases as she reaches behind her back and unclips her bra. Nayeon smiles as she tosses her article of clothing aside. 

“Tight and forthcoming?” The older woman muses. “Looks like we have quite the toy on our hands.”

Yuna’s gaze is almost searing as you step up to her. Her breathing is kinda unsteady, but you can’t exactly blame her. She’s half naked in front of two older people, with one of them running her hands along her smooth skin while the other cock their head and examine her from head to toe. If you were in her shoes, your blood would be racing and boiling fast. 

“Do what you want with me,” she whispers. She reaches forward and grasps your crotch through your pants. “I’m yours to take.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Did Nayeon teach you that?”

“Nope.” Speak of the devil and she doth answer on the younger woman’s behalf. “I only told her how to introduce herself, didn’t tell her what to say after,” Nayeon explains, a glint in her eye as she stares up at Yuna’s face. “Is it kinda fucked up if I wanna see her suck your dick?”

Yuna glances at her senior, then returns her gaze to you. “A little… But we can make it happen.”

Another point of difference – 2 actually: she doesn’t play around with her words and she’s pretty proactive. You like that. 

It’s a mess as you fumble with clothes, but it doesn’t take long for you guys to rid Yuna of the rest of her clothing and have her on her knees in the living room carpet. Her hands are delicate as she pulls down on the waistband of your boxers and frees your cock, and their even more so when she grips your throbbing shaft with both hands. On the chair that Nayeon pushed you onto, you watch her eyes as they survey what she’s working with.

“Wow…” she mutters, looking over to the right where Nayeon’s lounging on the sofa. “You had this all to yourself?”

Nayeon’s lips slant at an angle. “I know right? Better than any dildo you can find on the market.”

Yuna takes a moment to really look at the cock in her hands, eyes full of lustful wonder as she takes it in from all angles. She lets her mouth hang open for a little as she processes what she’s seeing, then she asks, “how does she even walk the next morning? I mean… This thing is girthy as fuck. Would probably split me open if I’m not careful.”

“It won’t,” Nayeon answers rather spontaneously, tapping her finger against a cushion as she watches Yuna pump your shaft with her lanky fingers. “It’ll fill you just right,” she leans against the handrest of the couch, watching intently as you push away some hair from Yuna’s face, “though I think it’ll look the best in your mouth.”

Yuna gets the gist. Her cheek presses itself against the inside of your thigh as she lifts your shaft and kisses it at the base, and she works her way up to the tip while one hand keeps your twitching cock steady. She gets to your head, and her lips take the sensitive part of you about halfway in, making sure you're looking (and you mean, like, really looking) as she lets her tongue lick the precum off from your leaking tip. Once she’s certain that she has your fullest attention, her jaw slacks and her shoulders rise; she takes a breath, closes her eyes.

There’s the hiss of an inhale — from you — as your head tilts back against the backrest while your cock enters the warm wet tavern of her mouth. She’s almost methodical in the way she takes you in, stopping halfway to adjust the angle of her head so that she can push forwards and down and drive the rest of your meat into your mouth. Her hands steady her, resting against your thighs as she tears a little. She’s a little more patient than her senior, waiting for a bit before she starts moving at a steady pace. Spit’s starting to drip down to her chin – will probably ruin the carpet if you cared enough (and you don’t). Nayeon’s been meaning to change this damn thing anyway. It’s seen too many juices and some dog piss in it from when her pomeranian was over those few times.

“Jesus,” is all you can hiss, through closed teeth of course. The young girl is nothing short of heavenly; she’s almost perfect at taking your dick as she starts to bob her head. The gurgling is kinda loud; spit flows like a stream down your shaft, only to be collected by that fastidious mouth as it traces a path – up and down and up and down. You wonder if there’s some make-up to be ruined.

“Won’t you look at that?” And you don’t even need to look over at the couch to know that Nayeon’s playing with herself. The squelching tells you lots, but the way her speech is kinda breathy tells you more than you need to know. She’s probably really turned by the sight of a younger woman taking cock into her mouth, riled up at the sight of tears flowing down her youthful cheeks. It’s borderline voyeuristic, pretty fucking freaky but also kinda hot. That’s her whole brand anyway. “She’s fucking taking your dick. My god…”

Yuna gurgles on your dick – probably some reply she’s trying to give but fails to because she has dick in her mouth. The suckle of her lips; the slide of her tongue against the base of your shaft; her throat kinda convulsing as she struggles and struggles – you don’t know if it’s all gonna be a bit too much, but now you’re really focusing on not trying to hurt her while your hands grab a handful of her hair in a fist. You’re assisting—or maybe forcing… Low-key goes both ways when there’s a very, very fine line between the two in this context—her, pulling her into your crotch and pushing her off just to pull her in again. It’s a vicious cycle – kinda doubling on the meaning while also butchering it: harsh and repetitive but there’s not a fucking instance where this produces a detrimental result.   

She comes up for air, your shaft pretty much dripping with spit as she takes a moment to gather herself. The gasping is hot, and so is the way she wipes her spit towards her mouth with the back of her hand. “God this is… Fuck...” she mutters, licking her lips while her fist is in constant fluid motion. Bruce Lee would be proud: she is like water.

“Keep it up darling,” the motions of Nayeon’s wrist have gotten quite sharp, sudden and lacking interval. Okay, maybe not sudden, but more… Desperate. It’s not like she isn’t gonna get her fair share of cock or anything, but she hasn’t been over for a while. There’s only so much that a vibrator and her fingers can do; she kinda needs to see it and revel in it for her to actually get off properly. You don’t know if watching a young girl take dick into her mouth is softening the blow dealt to her senses, but you kinda know that it’s still doing a number on her because she’s completely hiked up the hem of her dress to fuck herself with her fingers. There’s not much thought behind her actions, but she’s definitely letting herself go a little wild for the night. She is being indulged after all. 

“Am I doing good?” Yuna inquires, and it’s a question directed to both of you really. You give her a nod; Nayeon’s answer is verbal: Keep that up and you’re gonna make two people cum in the next five minutes. The young girl is pleased. She lets her tongue swirl around your tip, lick the cock before her from base to tip and sneak in some scissoring flicks of her tongue. Your hand finds itself on her cheek, thumb massaging the bone just above the flesh as she giggles and tosses her hair.

“You’re a doll,” you tell her. She smiles.

“That’s one of the many names I’ve been called,” she replies, letting your spit-covered head rub against her cheek. “Though I like the name cumslut the most.”

Oh.

Your grip on her cheek becomes more firm. “Okay then,” and your pushing her to the left so that her lips are in line with your head. “Open wide you fucking cumslut.”

The enthrallment in her eyes is apparent. Obedient, subservient, forthcoming, whatever; she parts her lips and lets her tongue hang out. Her eyelids flutter shut. You pull her forward. Nayeon cusses.

You're unbelievably hard in her mouth, and your member is ever so sensitive to every movement inside those cheeks of hers. The softness of her tongue, slickness of her drool, warmth of her cheeks… Too much to focus on with so little space for appreciation. You settle on fixating on the suction, the sweet vacuum her lips form around your length as she quite literally lets her mouth get used. Two hands around her head – pulling, pushing, pulling, pushing. A hot rhythm, not quite a dance but kinda cyclical like a routine. More perverse than any street jazz choreo you’ve seen though.

“Yuna,” you mutter, “ you’re so – fuck I – ugh… Your mouth.”

Somewhere in her throat, there’s space for a hum. Her hands are behind her back, locked in place by her own accord as she lets you fuck her mouth with no qualms. It’s smooth, almost natural till she gags a little on your dick and has to blink a bit. Slip n’ slide; front and back – she just takes your cock like an obedient little slut. It’s amazing, kinda dark, but still amazing nonetheless. The gurgling and the sound that comes from her throat that’s almost like swallowing; your fingers grasping the silky strands of her hair; eyes meeting hers. Fuck. 

You're desperate for a taste of heaven. You pull her down harder, faster. 

She gags, chokes, sucks a little harder. 

“Fuck this,” Nayeon hisses. “I’m joining in.”

And she straddles you before you can even blink, kissing you fiercely like she’s gonna die the next day and this is the last time she’s seeing you. Somewhere along the way, she’d shed her clothes. Now she’s nude and kissing you, jabbing her tongue into your mouth and exploring the feel of your teeth. Your cheeks are hers to hold, your mouth hers to own. 

She breaks the torrid kiss, “Yuna,” she drawls, playing with your hair as she speaks to the girl while looking at you. “Don’t ruin him too much. Leave some fun for me.”

The vibrations sent down your shaft make you tingle from head to toe – a product of Yuna’s attempted reply. You can’t see her anymore, but you can continue to just flow with the movements of pulling and pushing against her hair as Nayeon dives between her legs to get back to work. The older woman lets a sigh escape from her lips, pushing her fingers a little deeper. You can feel the heat against your crotch. Her hands move a little faster.

“Do you have any idea,” she whispers, her voice kind of striking that middle frequency between the gurgling and the squelching. “How fucking pent up I was in that damn dorm?”

Through your teeth, you reply. “No,” and you kinda twitch a little in Yuna’s mouth. “Do tell.”

She leans in, moans into your ear for good measure. “I was dripping every other day,” she reports, a lilt in her voice as she continues her work between her thighs. “Didn’t help that Momo was bringing a guy over and I could hear them fucking through the walls… My vibrator almost died that week.”

“Well…” you shudder as you speak, a familiar tingle building up from the base of your shaft. "You’ll have to wait your fucking turn.”

She smiles, quite sadistically you might add.

“That’s alright,” she tells you. Her forehead pressed against yours. “Just leave a load for me.”

And you have to hit her with an honest reply. “I’ll always have a load for you.”

“That’s what I thought.” She straightens her back and looks down at you. “I own this dick,” she announces to her audience of two. “Now cum in her mouth. I’m gonna get her to fucking swallow your load.” The orders are barked, not said. “I wanna watch.”

And she turns her toned back to you, leaving you with the view of the delicious curve of her back as she arches it while slicking her fingers with her own juices. You’re trying to hold on, desperately, but there’s only so much you can do when the mouth around you and the two women before you are this hot.

You don’t get to see it when it happens, but you can hear it and kinda imagine it when you cum right into Yuna’s mouth. You bet it’s kinda messy, but you’ll never know. Nayeon’s ass blocks the view – a trade off: view for a view. You hear the older woman hiss her commands—“Swallow. Fucking swallow you filthy little whore”—envison the sight of the young woman struggling to down your load as it pumps ito her wet hot mouth. A groan spills from your lips; a long-drawn sigh filters from Nayeon’s chest; Yuna gulps as she takes it all.

Your dick pops out of her mouth, all messy and slick with juices. Nayeon grabs it, pumps it, and without warning – shoves it into her cunt. 

And all at once it becomes too much: your over stimulated member twitches wildly in the grasps of her slick, hot walls as it begs for a break. The pleasure is horribly abundant, so much that it almost hurts. There’s no time to process the tight heat around you, voice your need for a break. Nayeon starts bouncing on her knees.

“Oh fuck yes.” Her hands shoot behind her, the left one failing to catch the handrest the first timebut gripping it tightly on the second attempt. Her knuckles go white. “I needed this. I needed to be filled by this fucking cock of yours.”

It’s too much; another load surges forth almost instantly. The hot semen paints her walls, shoots up from your already over-sensitive head and flows down her cunt. It leaks out; the squelching gets louder. Yuna’s tongue laps up the mix of juices that flow. Nayeon continues to ride.

Your fingers dig into the flesh of her waist, desperate to assist you in grounding yourself in this seemingly unreal reality. There’s a lack of words that can really describe your predicament, and if you’re to actually bring it across in a coherent sentence, it’ll probably something along the lines of “fuck” repeated at least a million times. You’re stuck in the chain of entry and exits of her pussy, a bundle of nerves beneath Im Nayeon while she mercilessly fucks herself on your cock. Right now: your dick is nothing but a mere toy for her to get off on, and she made that very clear from the moment she started throwing herself down onto your dick.

“Nayeon…” you heave. It’s an effort to even breathe.

“Shut it,” she hisses, not even casting a glance behind her. “I’m cumming on this cock one way or another and I don’t care how many fucking loads you give me.”

Yuna crawls around to the side of the chair. You hazard a glance at the young girl. She’s messy, sweaty and has residues of cum and drool at some areas around her mouth. She reaches out into the chair and takes you by the hand, squeezing it tightly in hers as if she knows that you’re fucking fading by the second. Every slam of Nayeon’s crotch against you is a mix of pleasure and pain, her moans almost like animalistic grunts.

“Fuck… You’re really filling her,” Yuna muses, watching the older girl take her liberties with your dick. “She must be so fucking tight right now.”

You swallow. “Yeah… It’s… Fuck…”

Yuna chuckles. Watching you struggle must kinda humour a little. She gives your hand a squeeze, encouraging you to hold on to what grasp of this world you have left. Her eyes sparkle, almost envious as she sees her senior bouncing on the dick she was taking into her mouth just a few moments ago. Her other hands snakes between her legs, flits circles of respite. Two girls getting off before you, similar but different.

Go ahead. Call this shit Tuesday.

*

“Be nice to her when I’m gone.”

You aren’t sure why Nayeon would need such a huge suitcase for a 10 day trip with her family. There’s no doubt in your mind that there’s probably tonnes of products in there that she wants to bring along for the fuck of it, but the damned thing looks like it was harbouring a small child. Not that Nayeon would ever do that, but it does help to paint a clearer picture of the sheer scale of her luggage. The airport X-ray is about to have a field day with this.

“Of course.” You’re kinda obvious about your ogling from the doorway as Nayeon does her hair with nothing but her leggings on. Yuna is still fast asleep in the room that you’d prepared for her, but you still kept your volume down just to play it safe. 

Nayeon smirks at you through the mirror. “I’m sure she’ll feel right at home with you.”

“Is that sarcasm I’m hearing?”

“Take it however you like. My eyes are up here by the way.”

You chuckle and walk up behind her. “Guilty as charged mademoiselle,” you apologise, though you're not all that ashamed of th fact that she’s caught you in th act of fucking her with your eyes.

Nayeon hits you with a scoff, a rather aloof one that screams ‘got you. Thought you were slick huh?’ even though it was within your fullest intentions for her to catch you looking. She had to be fair to you in this situation — kinda hard to look at anything else. Or maybe you’re misjudging her, maybe she knows full well that you were (and still are) catching a good look at those firm, perky mounds that sit proudly atop her chest. They fit perfectly in your hands, quite like a glove—OJ Simpson would hate that it fits that well—and a nicely-fitted set of bed sheets. What the fuck does that even mean? Frankly, you can’t quite put an explanation to it yourself; you’re kinda listing things that sound and feel right to you — things that give something enjoyable that little kick it needs to become something more congenial. 

(That sort of encapsulates her whole personality honestly. She’s already something to relish, cherish; the type of girl that makes other guys say ‘she’s a keeper’ even though they don’t have the slightest idea of what she really was like beyond cameras and public appearances. Kinda horny all the time, but also wants to cuddle you to sleep and call you all sorts of pet names after you’ve blindfolded and fucked her against three different flat surfaces – maybe breaking some expensive furniture in the process. Dominant, a little stubborn and a little pissy. Need you say more?)

“But for real: make her feel at home,” she says, setting down the curling iron and switching it off. She leaves it to cool down, puts on a sweater while she waits. “Poor girl’s been through enough. I promised her a safe haven, so try to make it one.”

The context behind her request is a little baffling. Just this morning Nayeon told you of Yuna’s falling out with an alleged highschool sweetheart, and she's taking shelter with you guys till legal matters are dealt with and she’s safe and sound. Guy started stalking her apparently, threatened her once or twice too. Fun times we live in.

Helping her hook the clasp of her necklace, you assure Nayeon that only your best effort would go into creating a safe space for her younger companion. Not to brag, but you’re pretty good at making friends—trust me. We’ll be tight before you even know it—with strangers. It’ll be like walking the dog; easy peasy. You get the idea right? Kinda running out of sayings. Nayeon seems pretty pleased with your promises.

“If you guys have fun, do send some videos,” she tells you, opening her drawer to pull out a pair of jeans. “I’ll be missing out on a lot if you don’t. That girl has a body even I wanna ravage.”

“So cock is not enough, huh?” you tease. She flicks her eyes to the mirror.

“Who said it wasn’t enough?” She cocks her head and makes eye contact through the mirror. “I literally ride you till you’re sore. Yuna’s just… an add-on. Like a side dish if you will.”

You chortle. “And I’m the main course?”

“Nope,” she giggles, unfolding her jeans. “That would be me.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“If you want an admission of my wrongs, you’ll have to fuck it out of me.”

And she meets your eyes in the mirror. You smile, knowing that she’ll probably let you get away with this one.

“It’s really a shame…” you sigh. “These leggings were, like, really nice.”

*

Couple minutes later you’re giving her a kiss on the cheek as she hurries for the taxi that arrived five minutes ago. In the midst of the commotion, Yuna emerges from her room dressed in one of your shirts – just in time to wave goodbye to her senior before Nayeon slips away. You're not too sure if she’s fully registered the fact that she’ll be stuck with you for a full week, but hopefully once the realisation sets in, you’d already have made her comfortable. 

You turn. The way you meet her gaze is kinda awkward. She has a look of intrigue on her face as she rubs her arms and gazes back at you with those doleful eyes.

You clear your throat. “You uh… You like omelettes?”

*

On your phone screen, Nayeon just kinda stares back at you with a hundred-yard-stare type of look. Hotel wifi has her video freezing at a rate that would make Elsa proud, and she’s barely a human through all the pixelated fuck-what that clouds in front of her.

“I feel like we're focusing on vastly different things here, Nayeon.” You’re hoping that she can hear your voice over the roaring silence of shitty network bandwidth. “Not even a day too… I’m pretty sure the poor girl’s scared shitless of me.”

And while Nayeon’s video and audio buffer, it’s a good time to remind yourself of your mistake. Not that you forgot it or anything, but you just gotta make sure that everything that you tell Nayeon is accurate.

So it turned out that Yuna and breakables don’t really go well together. Nayeon seems to have forgotten to ask you to read some fine-prints, and you basically went in raw when you witnessed  the young girl’s clumsiness. Quite the butter-fingers: she broke a mug and a plate in one slip of her tray from her hands. The sound of shattering porcelain jarred her, and as she attempted to move out of her mess, the Dad in you spurred you to cry out in panic. Don’t move! you practically roar. Poor thing flinched like she’s being held at gun-point, started shivering a little as you rushed over to clear up the shards. You don’t quite know how to comfort her, and so you just tell her to just eat in her room if she’s uncomfortable. She took you up on that, and that ended the first non-sexual interaction you had with her.

Way to go… You deserve a star.

By the time you’re done pacing the room and have thrown yourself onto the bed, Nayeon reconnects back to the call. She’s in a bathroom, wearing airpods and sitting in what looks like a bathtub. From the fact that she's wearing a robe, you’ll bet good money on the really (and you can’t stress this enough) high chance that she’s wearing nothing else beneath that.

“Five star hotel and I get two bars of wifi everywhere except the damn toilet,” she huffs. Guess you were right about what the two of you were focusing on. No prizes for being right though; life’s a bitch. “Anyway, don’t think too much about it. She’s clumsy but she’s not unaware. I’m sure she’ll understand where you’re coming from.”

“Honestly”—you slide under the covers and heave a huge sigh—“I think I might find my thirteenth reason if she hates me tomorrow.”

Nayeon rolls her eyes. Yes: she’s painfully aware that you certainly won’t kill yourself over the fact that you may or may not have made a girl re-live her trauma, but the knowledge of that doesn’t stop her from expressing her disdain towards your little joke.

“Sleep on it. You’ll be fine tomorrow,” she assures you, now in full resolution and crystal clear audio and image. She segways into something else, “By the way, check out the link I’m sending you.”

Toilet wifi is truly doing her wonders cause you get the link in question right after she says it. And you aren’t sporting a fedora when you confidently identify the source as a Reddit thread, but it feels like you should be heading online to buy one and get it delivered via next-day delivery. (Ugh… You can feel the word m’lady threatening to burst forth from your mouth already.) Yuck.

Clicking on the link brings you to a community you’re no stranger to. You’ve heard of it once or twice, but never really had the time or energy to delve into the posts. Nayeon seems to have done some homework though — you’re taken to a very specific post, a clip that kinda blew up when it debuted. 

It takes no Oppenheimer to draw the conclusion that the post addresses Nayeon herself, and she’s clad in that all black bodysuit from that one Talk That Talk performance that hugs her figure and really makes all the curves on her body pop. You’d know: you fucked her in this outfit; railed her on the bed from the back with a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs on her wrists if you want specifics. And if you want even more details: she didn’t let you cum till she’d came 3 times. Fun.

It’s a stunning outfit, and the appeal of the wonders it does to Nayeon’s body is only emphasised by how she runs her hands up from her hips, tracing the hourglass shape of her figure before she flips her hair. A pretty good Gif. Seems to have all 1410 commenters on their knees.

Now mind you: you’re on speaker phone with her right now. With that in mind, it sure as hell feels like Nayeon’s in the room with you as low sighs and salacious squelching starts filtering through Nayeon’s microphone and into your ears. A quick glance at the call window (that’s so helpfully converted to a small rectangle at the top right-hand corner of your phone) confirms 2 things while surprising you with a third find:

1) She’s very much naked under that robe. A bit of a no-brainer

2) She’s playing with herself – legs wide open and one of them (you can’t be arsed to really say which one) propped up on the rim of the bathtub as juice-slicked fingers work themselves between flushed folds.

3) The whole reason you can see the stuff in 2) is attributed to the fact that she's somehow leaned her phone against something in that bathtub to give you an almost artistic view of her. Emphasis on ‘almost’ because the close-up of her pretty, pink pussy is foreground to an even more sordid display of her half-lidded eyes and parted lips — baseness personified really.

Yuna becomes a secondary thought. “So… Has anyone told you that you’re kind of freaky?”

“Hey. I’m just a girl,” she muses, the look on her face a strong contender for the symbol of pure depravity. “Read the comments would you?”

“Twitter’s a much better place for this if—”

“Just stop being a smartass and read the fucking horny comments.”

You’re not intimidated by the aggression behind her voice for once, and it’s probably because she isn’t here to edge you if you don’t shut up. You take a moment to admire just how good she looks in this seemingly sempiternal display of what looks like lust itself, the Gif looping at least 3 times while you’re at it (and it’s like, the best 14 seconds of your life). The sun hits her at just the right, illuminating the best parts of her while shadows further define the shape of her curves – bringing forth the swell of her hips while making her tits and ass look bigger by a rather generous amount. Frankly, she looks good in just about anything really. Clothes on or off; hair tied up or let down; lingerie or fancy dress; lace or solid, she is the embodiment of sex.

“Hurry the fuck up,” she hisses, and it’s dripping with lethal lust and desire like venom from serpent fangs. Okay… There’s some mutual interest here with you and Nayeon. You’ll oblige.

“How nasty are we getting?” you inquire, all while you work the waistband of your pants down past your crotch so that your cock can spring free. You enlarge the window of the call, silently hypnotising yourself with the sight of Im Nayeon’s hand busying itself between her legs. “Are we going from the tame ones and progressing or…”

The look on her face tells you that she doesn’t give a shit; and she’s about this close to ending this filthy call and getting off on her own. Better conscience guides you to pick a random comment from the middle and get going with it.

“This one’s a thought provoker,” you preempt, scanning through the rather raunchy statement left behind by some undoubtedly turned-on user. “It says, ‘I wonder what she tells her stylist when she has to wear such outfits. It's like she must be really asking: I want something that will reveal my whole curvy figure. Nayeon is really the best girl’.”

“Mnph…” — she tilts her head back and lets out a gasp – an implosive suction of air that’s sharp yet so pleasing to your ears. “Curvy and… What was that again?”

“Best girl,” you reiterate, watching with a half-parted mouth as your hand matches the pace of Nayeeon’s fingers pumping in and out of the wet mess on the screen, “looks like someone’s got an eye for details.”

“They’d better. I think I looked fucking hot in that thing.”

You could second that opinion, though it was probably in your best interest to keep reading. This is basically your equivalent of putting fries into bags. You’re kinda okay with it, but you’re struggling to read this next one because of its horrible grammar, “her pussy must feel like heaven. With a tight body like that, she must know how she’s draining balls around the world.”

In the bathtub, she twitches. Her ring and middle finger are drenched when they’re removed from her pussy, but they don’t rest and find solid ground on her clit. They rub circles into Nayeon’s swollen nub, no doubt applying just the right amount of pressure onto the area while Nayeon is breathing all shaky and sounds like she’s been winded. In your books: this is basically her doing a backflip over the fine line between freaky and kinky, and basically exposing you to some new kink that she’s probably picked up from Sana.  If any of these commenters ever really had a sliver of an idea of what she’s really like behind the scenes, you doubt that the comments would be as merciful as this. Anyway, next.

“I bet she likes it raw. She probably loves being a good little fucktoy who takes unprotected dicks into that tight pussy and letting load after load fill her. I mean” —Nayeon starts to shudder a little, quaking and sighing as you get to the more explicit section of his comment—“she’d probably like it if I just ripped that dress off her body and spread her legs. She’ll moan like a slut when I put it in her and just start doing her raw. Imagine the way her tits will bounce. Fucking slut, she was made to be bred.”

She lets out this moan – inexplicable and undescribable. She urges you to keep going. You do just that.

“I want her mouth so bad. Bunny has those dick sucking lips that are made for cock, probably gives mad head and is so fucking sloppy with it. I bet she’ll let the drool drip from the corners of her mouth while she takes me in all the way, and she’ll probably thank me with her eyes when I grab her by the hair and start fucking her throat. I’m gonna destroy that pretty little face so bad, leave her so fucking messy and ruined that she’ll have to stop singing for at least a week. When I cum, I’m gonna make sure it goes down her throat and get some on that slutty face. She’s earned it.”

You’re watching her, pumping your fist around your cock while she lets her jaw slack and lets her moans sort of tumble from her mouth in batches. “More,” she pleads, fingers trembling as she lets her free hand slip beneath her robe and start giving attention to her tits. You’d kinda kill to see them now, but this view will have to do. “Read more. I want to hear it.”

“They're getting nastier,” you inform her. “This whole thread of comments is just 3 guys discussing how they want to share you in a gangbang.”

“Fuck yes. Please…”

She never finishes the sentence, but you get the gist. You persist. 

The next one is kinda paraphrased, partially because you’re projecting your own fantasies while simultaneously deciphering what this guy is trying to say across 5 separate comments. 

“I want nothing more”—and it’s getting really hard to breathe while Nayeon’s fucking herself senseless halfway across the world. Maybe if she hadn’t worn those damned airpods, you wouldn’t be hearing every single sordid little sound she makes (gasps, sighs, moans and a bunch of phonetic mish-mash that began with the letter ‘o’). You can’t tell if she’s already lost to the haze of pleasure, and even if she hasn’t she’s probably holding on by a thread thinner than hair; on the way there and probably reaching within the next five minutes—“than to pound her little pussy raw and give her a fat load.”

“Oh my fucking god…” she’s descending a little further into her own head, sinking beneath the sheer thrill of masturbating while her partner reads out all the perverse things that people would do to her. Her breaths are almost desperate – earthy and kind of like a product of raw emotion; akin to a groan or maybe even a grunt. At the same time, it’s like she’s struggling to take in the air she needs, fighting to find a reason to take a breath and distract her from this debauched world that she’s dived into. It isn’t just her mind that’s twisted here, but the minds of others too.  “Keep going. I need to know how they’re gonna ruin me.”

You’re trying to memorise the next line so you can watch, watch the subtle twitch in her right leg and the grunt-moan hybrid that’s produced from that pleasure stricken throat; the way she becomes a bundle of nerves like you and just starts losing it; the way her fingers go from rubbing to fluttering small circles of heavenly release into her body; the way the round breast that’s slipped out of the robe ripples with each movement from her shoulder. You’re more than happy to watch really; be a witness to the act of her bringing herself to the point of no return as she practically brims with pleasure and bliss that she’s bringing herself. You’re reading is like an add-on, some sick twisted DLC if you really think about it (you’re not really thinking much, but it’s a fun thing to consider). It’s quite like making a drink, albeit a little bit butchered – she’s pouring herself a glass while you wipe the rim with a lemon. The alcohol can spill on your fingers for all you care, you just wanna watch her make it overflow. 

TL;DR: you really wanna make her cum.

“I’ll fuck her mouth while you take her pussy”—this one is read word-for-word, verbatim, letter-for-letter. You like how it’s phrased, not quite poetry but beautiful in its own way—“make her gag on this cock till she’s ruining her mascara. We cum together. Give this little slut the spit roast creampie of her life.”

She half-sigh-half-moans – the type of noise she’d make when she’s on her back and being fucked into the mattress. She shifts, undoes the knot holding her robe together and lets the thing part from the middle and falls at her sides. Leaning back against the end of the bathtub, her pleading comes in the form of whines, soft ones that kinda float around the room while she endeavours to work her fingers a little harder. A free hand kneads her breast. Your breath hitches, cock pulsing in your fist as she arches her back and starts to gasp. You read the next lines, the boner-fueled words of some guy who probably had his cock in his hand while typing this out.

“I want her ass. I’ll make her ride it while she takes it up that bubble butt, then you guys an still fuck her pussy and mouth. She’ll be so messy, probably dripping from her pussy and her mouth while three dicks fuck the shit out of all three of her holes. You know what? I bet she’ll enjoy it. The slut flaunts her body like it’s a fucking prize. She’s asking for it.” 

There are like 2 more comments, but you never quite make it to the next parts. With a cry, Nayeon leans forward in the bathtub. She digs her fingers back into her slit, restarts the squelching and lets your speakers flood with a sordid symphony; squelch after squelch after squelch feels like music to your ears.  “Your cock.” It’s a demand, really raunchy, kinda racy and really (and you really mean really) fucking raw. Can’t quite figure out which part of her strips her of the filter that takes away the pure intoxicating venom that coats her words, but you couldn’t really give more of a shit right now. It’s hot, like, really fucking hot. “Show me your cock. Let me see you stroke it.”

And it’s almost at once that you switch back to the call and flip your camera around. You’ve been going at the same tempo for some time now, and you hope Nayeon can see the utter mess she’s made of you – precum leaking from your tip and your head all swollen and red. She moans, slips another digit inside of her and starts working all three of her fingers harder inside of her. 

“Ngh… I really wish that I could be filled with your cock right now,” she drawls. You’re not too sure if she knows that she’s projecting a shared desire right now. It’d be great to feel those warm walls wrapped around your shaft, slicking it with her juices while she rides you at a steady pace. Fuck… She’s ruining you, isn’t she? “With me baby. Cum. Make a mess for me.”

Her words are a little jumbled, but coherence doesn't really matter when she’s spitting pure filth from her lips. It doesn’t take long for either of you to get there, but you like to think that you meet her where she already is and kinda just go from there. At least that’s what you tell yourself as she convulses and is marred by her orgasm, and your cum leaks down your shaft and flows over your knuckles while you watch Your respective cameras capture it all – witnesses the mess you make at the hands of each other (and yourselves). You have to take a second, sit in the warm puddle of your own mess. It’s pooled on your stomach; cleaning up’s gonna be a chore.

“God…” Nayeon breathes. “Always wanted to try this.”

“Guessed as much,” you reply, sitting up in your bed and looking around for tissues. You spot a box of them on your desk. Great.

“Gotta go. Be in touch soon.”

She leaves you in the darkness of your room. From the corner of your eye, you spot a set of eyes watching you from the ajar door. You make out Yuna’s features before she closes the door, no doubt fleeing the scene. You aren’t sure how much she saw, but you hope that whatever she did see hadn’t scared her shitless.

Anyway, there are larger issues at hand.

*

It’s somewhere on the third or fourth night where it happens. For the record: you don’t go to her. She comes to you.

Weather forecast predicted hail, and for once they’re actually correct. It’s pissing it down – the glass on your room not left unscathed from the assault of hail falling from the sky. It’s awfully noisy, helluva hullabaloo. Hard to sleep in this weather really. You warned Yuna—who seems to have gotten a little more comfortable around you—about the horrid weather that you guys were about to be blessed with, and you can’t help but wonder if she’s fairing alright.

The knock on your door comes around a quarter after one. Yuna steps into your room, her silky nightdress kinda glowing in the low light as she sort of just stands there awkwardly. It’s quite like a child entering their parents room in the middle of the night to inform them that they’ve shat the bed. You look at her from under the covers for a bit, and when she continues to be a deer in headlights, you sit up in your bed. “You okay?”

“I’m um…” she begins, fiddling with her fingers as she speaks. “I-It’s noisy… And…”

You understand what she’s attempting to convey. You move to your right in bed, open the covers and pat on the space you’ve left for her. She smiles, grateful. When she settles into the space where Nayeon usually sleeps, you tell her to holler if she needs anything else. You leave her with that, and your back faces her when you—by the grace of some divine powers—drift off.

You wake up again in the early morning. The sleep wasn’t bad – kinda peaceful and dreamless and you want to close your eyes and drift back off. Unfortunately (actually kinda fortunately in this case), Yuna’s legs entangled with yours snaps you awake. You’re worried that you might have rolled into her while you were asleep (you really didn’t want to fuck up again), but her arm around your torso tells you otherwise. She’s cuddled up to you, head against your back and hugging you like you’re her personal soft toy – the usual kind of cuddling. Frankly, you’re at a loss for words. What happens in between is kind of a blur. You remember her stirring, and you remember turning around as slowly and gently as possible. What you don’t quite remember however, is how she ends up with a hand on your cheek. You vaguely remember her asking for some sort of permission, but your heart is beating so loudly in your ears that you can’t really hear or process much. She’s in the most vulnerable of positions right now, and the worst thing you could possibly do is fuck up. Your mishaps from the first day have you on edge.

And now you’re running through the events again in your head, doing your best to pick up on critical exposition that probably would explain the situation you're in. Words fail you as Yuna’s thumb traces a path across your cheek, sweeping back and forth languidly with the smallest of smiles on her face. Her eyes—those hypnotic doleful eyes—stare into yours, and you’re sniffing out some longing behind that gaze. 

“Nayeon put in a really good word for you,” she whispers, letting her gaze wander across your face. “She said that you were a trustworthy man… Someone who’ll take care of anyone because you can.”

You’re happy to hear of Nayeon’s positive appraisal of you, but it doesn’t stop your bad habit of cracking a joke in tense situations. “And what’s the customer’s review?”

You’re glad that she laughs. If she didn’t, you’d have to expand your list to include a 14th reason. 

“She told me to trust you and that I can feel safe around you,” she reports. She takes a moment to bring her eyes back to yours. Her smile grows wider. “I’m happy to say that I do… Largely.”

And all at once: a two tonne weight around your chest feels like it just dropped a twenty-story height. You aren’t sure if Yuna’s giggling because of the fact that you’re visibly relieved or because you heaved the loudest sigh of relief of your career.

“Man… I thought I’d completely fucked up after the first day,” you admit to her, relishing the feeling of your body relaxing in bed. “Never quite got to apologise for that.”

“And you don’t have to”—her smile is quite soothing to be honest, puts you right at ease after looking at it for a second or two— “I was just kinda shocked… And I kinda have a bad experience of being yelled at. Working on it though.”

Huh. Guess Nayeon was right about her.

“Still though,” you raise, rubbing your eyebrow. “I’m sorry.”

Yuna chortles. Her lips slant at an angle. “Forgiven and forgotten. Happy?”

You smile in response to the progress. “Hey. You go girl.”

She graces you with a wink. A moment of silence follows. 

“Did Nayeon ask you to be touchy with me?” you can’t help but inquire. It’s out of the blue, but hey: a burning question is a burning question. “I mean… It’s not everyday that a cute girl just pulls up in my bed and caresses my cheek.”

“She said that you’ll be fine”—she retracts the hand on your cheek. The two tonne weight starts rising to the 5th floor—“and are you flirting with me?”

(Two tonne weight falls. Phew… What a workout.)

“Maybe.” You don’t really like being blunt cause there’s always some merit in a bit of playing around. Now that you think back on it, you may or may not have picked this up from Nayeon. Damn girl is ruining you. “Take it how you want, just don’t think I’m being sarcastic.”

Yuna smirks a little. “Nayeon did say you like to play around with your words,” she lifts a finger and points away from the bed, “not sure if she influenced you,” she points towards you,  “or if you influenced her”.

“What if we’re both a little guilty?”

“Then I’ll be the outlier. Can I kiss you?”

And it feels like time stops. For the seconds that you stare at her in silence, one brain cell exerts maximum fucking effort to process the weight of her words. You wouldn’t have been as hesitant if she’d just kissed you directly, but now that she’s asking for consent first, you’re high-key at a loss for words. The sun’s starting to rise and the room’s being filled with this sorta radiant glow… Or maybe it’s just her.

“Woah,” you can’t help but muse. Of course, you’re exaggerating by quite a bit. “You are… Super blunt.”

“Figured you could use a change of pace.”

Then Yuna closes the distance between the two of you. She hesitates for a little, hovering over your lips for a bit before she finally decides to press her lips onto yours. It’s kinda sweet; her lips feel amazing and she’s really going down on you. You comb your hands through her hair, let the smell of sweet shampoo kinda intoxicate you a little while she tugs at your lower lip with her teeth. Unlike Nayeon, it feels like she’s kissing you because she wants to. The older girl sometimes makes it feel like she’s doing it for the sake of it, and then proceeds to tear through your clothes to get to your dick. Yuna takes her time, lets her hand on your face get familiar with the structure of your jaw as fingers graze them gently; introduces her index finger and thumb to your chin as she tips it to deepen the kiss a little.

“Hey,” she calls once the kiss is broken. She’s glowing in the light of the room, the smile on her face pretty fucking adorable. “Did Nayeon ever tell you that I look the best when I take it from the back?”

Again: super fucking blunt.

Clothes are never a hassle when you’re kinda in a rush, and Yuna’s night dress slips right off her body like the plate she dropped from the tray. You have her on her back, kinda half-mewing-half-keening as you catch a nipple in your mouth and suck on on it. The toned muscles on her stomach tense and relax, the rapid ebb and flow of pleasure in her system making her body move in all sorts of sensual ways as you palm her other breast.

And here’s the thing you like about Yuna: she lets you take her time with her, really revels in the sweetness of the moment while your trailing kisses down to her crotch. She moans for you – sweet music that tells you yeah that’s the spot while you acquaint and familiarise yourself with her body; she shifts herself accordingly – rolls to her side when you were kissing her plunging collarbones and opens her legs for you when you get to that pretty, pink pussy. It’s like she’s wired to please you, responding to your every move with a move of her own like you’re locked in a dance with her. It’s a welcome change of pace from having to fight and dirty talk your way to even get the chance to fuck Nayeon.

(In case you’re wondering: you do eat her out, but you kinda get lazy to really put into words. All you need to know are these few key points:

Firstly, she’s delicious, sweet and salty and kinda tangy. A bit of a subjective taste but you like it.

Secondly, her moans are really fucking adorable. They’re not even, like, purposefully made that way. She just kinda lets them flow from her mouth – choked-up cries of pleasure while warm thighs wrap around your ears. 

Lastly, when she cums, it’s fucking amazing. It’s like she brings heaven down to earth with her cries and makes sure you get to touch it as much as she can. Her body is fucking riveting – arches deliciously when she arrives and makes you twitch in your pants.

Bottom line: she’s really fucking hot, quite like Nayeon in the way she tries you on sometimes but patient and actually giving you the chance to talk dirty with her. Damn… She really is a change of pace.)

And so: reaching between your bodies with her on all fours, you grasp your cock in your right hand, slipping it between Yuna’s legs. The young woman spreads her thighs as best she can – readies herself for entry. Your head pushes between her lips, waiting for only a moment, before you thrust hard inside her, filling her to the hilt with your cock. She’s awfully tight, really fucking wet and God is it hot in there. You almost think molten iron seems to be brewing in her core.

“Tell me,” she huffs, a sly smile on her face as she props herself up on her elbows. “Am I better? Or is Nayeon still the best?”

You caress the swell of her ass. “Baby… I think you’ll be the best fuck I’ll have in a while.”

It’s almost cruel: the way you kinda just start thrusting without any warning. She likes it though, and you only know because she possesses the bluntness to do so.

“God you’re fucking big.” And her ass ripples with each thrust you deliver into that slick little pussy of her’s. “Fuck… How does Nayeon even manage you?”

(The thing you like about her is how she asks a question like it was some sort of objective statement – not a rhetorical question, just something for you to respond to.)

You fuck her harder in response to that, kinda push yourself all the way into her. The tip of your cock slams against her cervix and her cries ring throughout your room. Your room fills with the sort of visceral sound one would associate with skin slapping against skin. There are definitely some more words to be shared during sex – the girl has a little more things she wants to get off her chest, but what the whole exchange boils down to is a back and forth of her gasping and crying out and saying you’re the best dick she'll ever get and you telling her you love the feel of her little cunt.

(It's really not like you're trying to prove something by being super rough. Yuna just happens to really, really like the feel of a thick cock pounding into her. Maybe Nayeon was right – her taking it from the back was a good idea.

Or maybe she's just a slut.

Who knows?)

"Yeah," you growl. You reach forward and grab a handful of her hair, pull her body against yours. "Take my cock baby."

"I can take it," she gasps, the breath knocked out of her. Her fingers curl against the bedsheets and she's just taking your cock. She's a lot easier to please than Nayeon – less stubborn about being in control, but also much, much more willing to please. "Oh God, fuck me, please..."

You slam deep inside her. Her body jerks forward and the sound that comes from her mouth is a mix between a cry and a gasp. "Please what?"

"Fuck me harder," she says. She's practically begging for it. "Make me cum. Please, please make me cum!"

Taking up her request is all you really wanna do. She didn’t need to add the multiple pleads, but you took some pleasure in hearing it.

You grab ahold of her shoulders, pull her close till she's almost upright. "You're gonna cum around my dick," you growl. You start a series of rapid, hard thrusts and her body goes limp in your arms. "And you're gonna make a mess of yourself."

She nods frantically. She's a mess already, all sweaty and red. The sounds that leave her mouth are incoherent. With two fingers pressing hard and directly against her clit, you start circling on it, making her a complete fucking wreck in the middle of your room as you really try to get her off. There's a sweet spot you find after a moment – the pad of your digits slipping around the nub and her knees give, almost making her buckle until she's flat on her stomach on the bed, crying and shaking as you use her like a toy.

"Please... Fuck... Don't stop, oh God don't stop!" Her cries are like a prayer to you. You've never heard anything like it. You fuck her right through it, watching as her back arches and her legs twitch, until she's almost completely gone. There's only a little bit more left. She just needs a little extra push.

So you decide to go a little hard. You hold her by her hips, keep her legs shut, and thrust directly down onto her pussy with a force you'd only reserve for someone like Nayeon. Her eyes roll back in her head as you really take her like you've wanted to ever since you started; it's almost animalistic how you really try to get her to cum as hard as she can. You can almost feel her orgasm build up in her body. Her breathing grows shorter and more erratic and she's mewling in her throat – so close. You can taste it.

"You like my cock don't you?" You reach around, give her tits a squeeze. She almost cums from that.

"Yes," she whimpers. You know she's not playing the part – she genuinely wants your dick. "Please... Let me cum on your cock..."

(You don’t admit it verbally, but you like it when girls beg. Nayeon never does, and it’s a novelty now that she’s doing it.)

You hold her down with an arm on her lower back. Her head's to the side, hair plastered to her skin with sweat as you fuck her from behind. She's panting and whining, begging you for more; “please please more”. You like that. It's cute. You wanna hear it. So you go harder. She screams into the sheets, but the sounds are muffled, but she's pretty loud nonetheless. It's good to see her let go like this, really let loose and not hold anything back. There's a fire that she ignites inside you. "Fuck..."

It's like a little fire that ignites and grows bigger, burns brighter with each thrust. She's so tight and so fucking wet; the wet sounds that accompany each thrust really turns you on. Your body feels so hot. There's this warmth that spreads across your entire body with every passing second. She moans and cries, whimpering as you nail her into the sheets.

Then there's this moment of clarity that hits her, and she looks back at you – she smiles, eyes half-lidded and she whispers something to you.

"Cum inside me," she says. She's shaking. "Please..."

Your rhythm grows sloppy as you edge closer and closer to the climax. Your cock feels like it's growing harder, bigger – there's this throb in it and your body's all tensed up. It feels like something inside you is going to snap, break loose and make you cum. It's not the best feeling in the world, but the way it grows stronger and stronger really makes your toes curl and your skin tingle.

And she's so beautiful like this: spread out for you, skin sweaty, cheeks red, and ass in the air as you fuck her. It's the best way you can ever imagine her – she looks like she belongs to you like this, her body a playground for your lust, and she wants it just as much as you do. There's a mutual feeling between the two of you.

The pleasure comes and it hits you like a train. It feels like something inside your balls tighten and then snap and then there's this euphoria that envelopes you. You feel your cock pulse with every burst of semen that spurts from the head. Yuna cries as her pussy gets filled and filled, until it's running out and dripping from her cunt, but you can't stop fucking her. You want to feel that sweet, sweet release, to see how long it will go, to really enjoy this moment. She feels amazing, and your heart pounds and you want her so badly. You need her.

She cums — It's a hard, shuddering orgasm that wracks her body. She cums and she screams for you, and she makes a mess of herself as promised. It's really fucking hot – the way she completely loses her composure and her legs shudder violently as you pound her pussy through it all, soaking in the perverted pleasure she brings you while you fuck her freshly-creamed pussy till your hips kinda give. You collapse on her, panting and grunting on top of her while she struggles to breathe.

In this moment. She isn’t like Nayeon in the slightest.

She’s a welcome change of pace. 

*

“Thinking back… There were signs in highschool that I probably ignored.”

And the water sloshes around as Yuna shifts a little in the bathtub. She’s found it to her liking to prop herself up against you, let her head rest against your shoulder while you hold her close to your chest. You’ll admit that it’s a bit of an awkward arrangement, but there was no way you could just not indulge her after she asks to take a bath with you. 

“The worst part is that they weren’t even, like, subtle,” she tells you, just sort of staring out into the distance while she talked.  “He’d punch things when he got angry, even slapped a referee after he lost a game… Love is blind huh?”

You held her a little closer to your chest. “It’s okay. We all make mistakes.”

“Yeah, well, my mistakes left me with no physical scars but the emotional ones are plenty.”

You hope she can’t see you grimace. It’s hard to recover from these types of things, especially if you realise the stupidity behind your decisions.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” you tell her, and you really mean it. “It must be difficult… You know: recovering.”

The front of her lips curve up. “Thanks. I try not to let it weigh me down too much but… Just kinda happens to come out every now and then.”

You get it, you really do. Not that you’ve been in an abusive relationship like hers before, but you understand what it’s like. It’s sad really: being unable to break out of a cycle that hurts you the more you try to stay and change it. You admire the young girl’s strength, envy her courage for finally breaking the cycle and freeing herself for good. 

“You’re safe now,” you whisper, moving some wet hair out of her face. “I will never hurt you. I promise.”

She smiles at that. “Thank you,” she says while pinching your cheek, “that means a lot to me.”

Then you bask in the silence for a little, taking in the smell of the bath salts and the feel of Yuna’s soft skin against yours. It’s a pretty romantic moment till Yuna’s bluntness breaks it.

“I’m, like, really wet,” she announces, gazing up at you from her position on your shoulder. You laugh. 

“Didn’t you just cum?”

“Good things come in threes.”

She fixes you with a look, like she knows that you’re gonna give in.

(And you know what? She’s absolutely right. Can’t say no to a pretty girl.)

*

“Well hello to you too.”

Nayeon sounds almost angry on the other side of the video call. On your end, you have your phone’s back camera pointed to the current situation: Yuna atop of you, thighs locked around your cock as her hips rock up and down steadily. Her thighs are warm, pillowy; makes you grit your teeth while she moves languidly.

“Nayeon!” Yuna exclaims, almost too saccharine as she keeps her eyes locked on yours. “We were just thinking of you.”

She isn’t lying. Just moments before her call came, you two were making a joke about how she’d never let you get away with as much as Yuna did. It was a pretty humorous conversation, almost comedic if it wasn’t for the fact that Yuna was tugging your sweats down your thighs. 

But, there she was, still moving in your lap. Yuna leans forward, hands planted on your chest as she continues to rock her hips, ass bouncing a little against your thighs.

You can hear a scoff from Nayeon.

Yuna turns her head to the screen, eyes looking at the phone but her hands still pushing on your chest, fingers flexing. "We really were," she whines, lips jutted into a pout. You watch her as her lips curl into a small smirk just a second later, her teeth peeking out, and you can feel your face grow warm when she looks back at you.

"Tell her what we were talking about," she orders, her voice soft but firm.

"Um...we were just, um—" you stutter out, and your throat goes dry as her hips keep going, her thigh muscles clenching around you.

"Go on."

"We were...just, uh, talking about how you're not here," you finally manage to get out.

"Aww, baby...” Nayeon is smiling. It’s sarcasm by the way; she's enjoying this as much as Yuna is.

Yuna's pout returns. "See, Nayeon?" She continues to roll her hips against you. "We were thinking of you,” she reiterates, making sure she has your eye contact while she fucks you with her heavenly thighs, “I know it's not fair that you aren't here, but he’s just so fucking hard… Someone had to do something about it.”

Nayeon gives a snort. “You two are lucky I’m not alone in my room right now.”

“And what would happen if you were?” Yuna challenges. You don’t recall her being this daring.

“Playing with myself, obviously,” the older girl replies. “You think I’d just watch you get him off with your thighs? I barely let that boy dominate me.”

Yuna chuckles and smiles your way.

“What a horrible situation,” she whispers, moving a little faster. “Luckily I’m here to pamper him.”

“And he’d better enjoy it while it lasts,” Nayeon smirks. “When I’m home he’s–”

Yuna cuts her off by hanging up. You stare wide-eyed in shock as she tosses the phone aside. “Too noisy. I can’t multitask,” she explains. “Call her back later. Let’s get back to it.”

With that, Yuna leans over you, her chest pressed to yours as she gives a slow grind in your lap, her hips moving in a figure eight. Your head rolls back, and you release a loud, drawn-out groan. Her thighs are so smooth against your cock, so warm, so soft. You wish you could bury your face in between them. The way her hips move is incredible; she knows what she wants, knows how to work you.

You try to sit up, but Yuna pushes you back down by your chest. Her lips curve into a smile, and she shakes her head.

"Stay down," she whispers, "you don't wanna ruin this, do you?"

"No."

"Then stay still. I'll make it quick."

Quick is an understatement. She's barely rocking her hips in your lap, but with how soft her thighs are, and the way they grip you like a vice, you know it'll probably be over sooner or later. You make a note to try and make this last for as long as you can. Yuna leans over you again, hands on your chest as she gives a rough buck of her hips. Your head snaps back and you let out a loud groan. She continues to grind against you, slowly, making sure to hit every sensitive part of your cock. You reach up to grab her hips, but she slaps your hands away.

"No touching," she tuts. "Let me do the work. You relax."

Your lips open to protest. She shushes you with a finger. 

"Own me later," she whispers, sliding the finger down to the point where your collar bones meet. "Let me take care of you now."

You gulp, nodding.

Yuna's hands settle back on your chest, nails dragging across your skin, making you shiver. She's looking at you with those doe eyes, those pretty pink lips curled into a smirk as her hips pick up pace. The friction is incredible; Yuna's thighs feel like silk wrapped around your cock, warm and soft; the way they're clamped around you has you seeing stars. Your breath hitches in your throat when Yuna moves faster.

(And another thing about her: she’s so fucking good at pleasuring you that she always makes you lose your ability to think.)

"Fuck..." You moan, throwing your head back. "Feels so good..."

She smiles at that, giving a small hum of approval. "Does it?" She asks. "Good."

You look up at her, watching her roll her hips. She's really putting in work, moving in all sorts of ways to make sure you're feeling the most pleasure. It's not lost on you; she's an angel, and you thank every god there is for having her. Your cock throbs between her thighs, aching. The head is flushed red and leaking precum, which smears all over Yuna's thighs as she keeps moving. Your toes curl in the sheets, fingers gripping the fabric as she rides you.

Yuna continues to roll her hips, giving a few rough bucks when she feels like it. You're groaning and moaning under her, letting out all kinds of sounds that make her chuckle. She's having fun teasing you, getting you close to orgasm only to slow down and watch your face contort with pleasure.

"Don't cum yet," she says softly, running her hands over your chest. "We just started."

"I-I know," you reply, breathless. "But I...fuck..."

Yuna giggles. "That good?"

"Yeah. Fuck… don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it, baby."

You throw your head back, your hips twitching under hers. Yuna chuckles, keeping her thighs locked around you. Your cock aches, throbbing between them as she moves; precum drips onto her legs, which only makes the slide easier for her. You're starting to sweat; your body's temperature rises with each passing moment, the feeling of her thighs overwhelming you. Yuna's so warm against you, so soft and pliable; you can't help but imagine her underneath you, moaning and writhing as you fuck her. The thought has you bucking your hips up into her, causing her to gasp.

"Someone's eager," Yuna teases, running a hand through her hair. "What's going through your head?"

You groan in response, your hands sliding down her sides to grip her hips. "Nothing," you lie.

She snorts, knowing full well what's on your mind.

"Liar." She rocks her hips forward. "What are you thinking about?"

You gaze at her for a moment. "If I said you... Would you believe me?"

She rolls her eyes. "Wouldn't put it past you," she stops moving for a bit to give you the attention. "What are you doing to me in your head?"

"I never said–"

"Please," she interjects "We both know you want to bend me over the nearest fucking surface and fuck my brains out right now."

Her thighs start moving again. Your head falls back and a moan escapes you.

"Can you blame me?" You say. She smiles.

"No, not really. I am pretty hot anyway."

(There’s that little bit of Nayeon in her.)

You nod. "You're so fucking good to me." You manage to get out.

Yuna chuckles. "Wanna know something?"

"What?"

"I love the way you feel between my thighs," she tells you. "And I love how you sound when I'm making you feel good. I want to hear more of it."

With that, she leans forward, pressing her lips to yours. Her hips keep moving, rolling against you at an agonizing pace, causing you to moan against her mouth. She's quite literally giving you everything you want, injecting some mischief here and there that makes it feel like Nayeon possesses her sporadically. She's more gentle though, more kind and more caring too. Okay, not that Nayeon doesn't care, but she's kinda ruthless when she's horny. Yuna's much more caring, and a lot more willing to be a pillow princess. She likes being pampered. She likes being loved on and adored. She wants to be fucked and she wants to be taken care of. It's a mutual feeling between the two of you. You'll worship her, and she'll love you for it.

Yuna pulls away from the kiss, moving to your neck. She gives it a few open-mouthed kisses, nipping at your skin. You sigh, letting your head fall back. She continues to rock her hips against yours, grinding down onto your cock. Her hands slide up your chest, nails digging into your skin, eliciting a gasp from you. 

Yuna chuckles, kissing up your neck to your ear. "You're so big," she whispers. "So fucking thick... Feels so good."

You groan, fingers gripping her hips.

"You like that?" She asks. "Like me talking about your cock?"

You nod.

"I love it," and she talks with a purr. "Love how it feels inside me... How deep it goes... How hard it throbs..." She whispers—no. Moans all this right into your ear. "Fuck... I really want this thing inside me right now."

"Later," you quickly propose. "Please?"

She laughs — sweet and melodic. "Never said that I would put it inside of me," she reminds you. "Now, you zip up and make a mess for me, okay?"

You moan in response, nodding your head. You can't deny her, not when she's making you feel this good.

Yuna keeps moving against you, her thighs clenching around your cock. She moves slowly, her hips rolling at an agonizing pace. Your cock is aching; you can feel yourself getting closer to your climax with each passing second.  Your eyes are glued to her thighs, watching them move. She looks so good on top of you. Her hips are hypnotic; your mind spins as she fucks you.

Your eyes move up to her face. Her eyes are closed, lips parted slightly as she focuses on her movements. Her hands are still on your chest, fingers flexing. Her breathing is heavy, warm breath fanning over your skin. You take in her beauty, letting it consume you. She's so fucking perfect, so angelic. Hard to believe how much of a slut she can be.

"I'm close," you manage to get out. "Yuna..."

She smiles. "Go ahead, baby."

"Don't wanna make a mess." You say.

Yuna giggles, her hips picking up pace. "Too late for that."

That's what sends you over the edge. 

You cum; it’s fucking messy. 

Cum fills the space between your dick and her thighs, slathering and flowing and spurting onto everything it can possibly get on. It slicks the insides of her legs; gets on her ass a little and pools beneath her crotch. Yuna hums in satisfaction, a smile on her face as she turns behind her to survey the damage.

“Clean up on aisle four,” she mutters, reaching back to wipe some cum off her ass. She sends her fingers into her mouth – makes a big show of sucking them clean. You can’t help but chuckle a little at the sight.

“Hey,” you call her, your hands reaching down to grope her ass. “I’m planning to change the sheets tomorrow.”

She gives you a look. “Are you saying that cause you’re actually going to? Or because you just want to fuck me right now.”

Oh and she’s perceiving you almost too accurately. You won’t admit your answer, even to yourself. 

“I dunno,” you shrug. “Either way: we’ll have to change the sheets.”

Yuna matches your game.

“Call Nayeon back,” she instructs. “Let’s show her what she’s missing.”

*

Again: Nayeon just kinda chooses when and where to be a bit of a minx, and you just have to roll with it really.

The decision—for today—was made somewhere halfway through the drive to fetch Yuna. You were just talking about how Nayeon had picked that girl up, and her voice trails off as she passes the exit sign. She just keeps on driving while pretending to look like she’s in the right. The GPS doesn’t lie though: it keeps on promoting her to U-turn at every opportunity that’s available to her. She ignores it of course, kinda tunes it out even though the instructions are really getting annoying now (and not to mention it sounds like it’s demanding her to go back this instant, like a mum who just can’t get her kid to listen). It’s like how she ignores you lately.

“She’s probably gonna think we crashed or something,” you muse, lurching in your seat a little as she takes a left. “We’re like, what, fifteen minutes late or something?”

“Nah,” Nayeon quickly refutes. She stops to let a BMW swerve around the corner before she gently taps on the gas. “She’s probably still packing her things,” the turning signal clicks at a steady tempo, stops after she takes the 3rd exit on the roundabout, “maybe even settling a bit of her make up or whatever.”

This is the most she’s spoken since her return.

You hazard a glance at the GPS. The blue line leading you back to your intended destination only grows longer, sometimes glitching a little as the turn of Nayeon’s car gives it the illusion that you’re heading back when she’s really just turning into a one way street. You can’t tell if she knows where she’s going or if she’s just throwing out random bullshit.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she grumbles, casting a rather nasty glance your way. “I’m just taking a shortcut. That’s all.”

(Is it not painfully obvious where this is going?)

And a few minutes later, she’s got you gritting your teeth in the backseat of her car. No smug remarks from her — she has your balls in her mouth and she’s getting real sloppy in some alley she’s parked in. You don’t know where to begin, where to find solid reasoning for what you’re witnessing and feeling right now. It’s pretty fucking asinine (and she probably knows that it is) and damn straight goes against all branches of logic. In no world does she have a valid reason for being this horny at 11am on a Saturday.

(Actually, there’s one reason: she just feels like it.)

“You do know that we’re both astronomically fucked if anyone so much as glances our way.” You’re ashamed to admit that this actually has you hissing, partly out of annoyance and partly out of pleasure. “You’re fucking ridiculous. I hope you know that.”

Nayeon spits on your cock. Her hands close into a fist around your shaft, her eyes almost empty as she spreads her saliva in a close to even layer over you. “Are you quite done?” She asks. The emptiness in her voice is kinda scary. It makes her sound exasperated, like she’s sick of your reasonings. “You know, you talk an awful lot for someone who literally writhes when I quite fucking literally touch your cock. Don’t act tough on me. We both know who you are. We both know you’re my toy.”

Figuring out if this is part of the bit is the hardest part of your predicament. She plays too much as of late: with her eyes, her tone, her facial expressions… Sometimes it makes you wonder if she really keeps you around just to satisfy her cock cravings or if she really wants you around. Ever since she’s gotten back, it feels like she’s been fucking you and Yuna with nothing but pure hate. You feel it in her eyes, in the violent buck of her hips when she rides you or even in the way she spanks Yuna with a little too much glee. It confounds you; admittedly: you’re petrified of the possibility that she’s straight up jealous of how your relationship with Yuna’s been going since she roped her into this mess.

You can’t help it. You need to know.

You grab her by the wrist, a little harder than you’d like but it’ll have to do. “Stop,” and you don’t mean to be assertive, but it’s all you can summon now. “I need you to answer me honestly.”

In the passenger-side seat, Nayeon fixes her gaze on yours. She tries to struggle from your grasp; you keep a firm grip.

“What are we?” you ask, straightforward; direct. You’ve been with Yuna enough times to know that this’ll elicit an honest response from her. “Cause it just feels like I’m just your piece of meat to fuck and own. We don’t talk, you don’t even look at me when we go to sleep… What are we Nayeon?”

And it makes her freeze. Your sincerity is scary to her — ropes her into your thoughts more than you usually do. She’s silent, face blanker than paper. Her fingers on the hand that you’ve got in your grasp curl a little. “We’re just fuck buddies… That’s all.”

You just stare at her for a second, soak in the weight of that statement. “Then why does it feel like you’re jealous of Yuna?”

“I’m not. What are you even…” You can tell she’s surprised — her eyes do that thing where they widen, and then she blinks. Your question is loaded to her: it catches her in a place where she’s made privy to the fact that her emotions are more out there and perceptible than she’d like.

You raise an eyebrow. “Come on… We both know that’s not true.”

Her plump lips purse. She looks away for a moment.

“And what would you do if I said I was jealous?” she raises. “Kick her out? Stop fucking her?”

She raises a valid argument. Frankly, you didn’t bring this up with the end goal of sorting this out. You just wanted the older girl to accept her emotions, maybe acknowledge that it’s a little petty and then kinda just move on. Of course, nothing with Nayeon is ever really that simple.

“You’re the one that brought her into this,” you remind her, partly because you feel like she isn’t acknowledging her fault in this situation and partly because you have nothing else to say.

She rips her hand away. “So it’s my fault then?”

“What?” you sit up a little in your seat. “No. That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

Her eyes sear your soul with her frustration. This hurts her more than you think. “I’m saying we’re both a little guilty here,” you clarify. “We both have a part to play in how you feel, so maybe we should just talk this out.”

She goes quiet. Too quiet considering the circumstance.

“Later.” She decides. “I think better with a load inside of me.”

*

So to reiterate: they're similar but kinda different. 

“Jesus… Did you really have to get it on my dress?” Nayeon’s clearly pissed. The wet wipe in her hand rubs at the stain of her dress furiously, as if the aggressive motion will kinda just get it out magically. Yuna retires into your arms, her sweat-matted hair sticking to your chest a little. The syntax behind how you got to this point is more complicated that you’d care to elaborate on, but let’s just say: Nayeon was happier a second ago…

(Okay but to be fair: her dress was in the way when you pulled out. So it’s like, half your fault, but you like to play the victim.)

“Relax,” Yuna assures her senior. “It’ll wash right off.”

Nayeon clicks her tongue in annoyance. “You stop defending him. He knows what he’s done.”

Yuna giggles. She smiles up at you. “Yeah… He does.”

They don’t know it, but they’ve got a pretty good dynamic going: Mother-daughter; Spicy and Sweet; Sour Cream and Onion. They contrast, diverge; but they compliment each other almost perfectly. 

(It’s no family reunion; but it’s dinner and diatribes from here on out.)

—

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Hope you will be full of joy and fulfill your dreams next year!

Anyway! This is lokwey the start of a series where I just kinda explore more filthy and complicated things, stuff that’s just not quite right but somehow works. I won’t be following the same idols and people, so this isn’t exactly an interlinked series. Hard to explain but you guys can just come to your own conclusions really.

~Nichu

[actuallysaiyan]

A Good Night's Sleep(Aizawa Shota x Fem!Reader)

warnings: somnophilia, pet names, wet dreams, unprotected sex, smut, kissing word count: 1.2k pairings: Aizawa Shota x Fem!Reader summary: Shota is tired, so you two take a nap. you're awoken by your own wet dreams leaving you so needy... a/n: here's my first and CERTAINLY not my last Aizawa smut ;) banners by @adornedwithlight

Finding time to be intimate could be difficult considering the lives you decided to lead. Even for him to admit that he even needed to be intimate could be so challenging at times. You knew that Shota loves you, but the way he liked to show it would make most people wonder if they were even in a relationship.

The man rarely even gave you the time of day whenever you could find a moment alone together. You wondered if sometimes he still liked to act mysterious with you, even if it was just to keep things interesting between the two of you. He must just be trying to keep you guessing.

And considering everything going on lately, you wondered if he was even getting enough sleep. You always worried about that aspect of him. It just was part of you that you could never shake, even if you had known him for so long. 

So the moment you two finally have some time alone, you’re not surprised at all to find that Shota wants to nap. He looks even more tired than you’re used to, so you don’t say no. The look in his eyes is one that seems to be almost pleading with you to get into the bed with him.

With the curtains pulled back, the lights down low and you’re both in bed, it’s the perfect recipe for a good nap. Shota nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent greedily. He doesn’t even show you this much affection whenever he’s around you during the day.

He murmurs a soft word of praise and a sweet “mmm…love you.” before you can hear him snoring slightly. You rest against him, closing your eyes and falling asleep.

Your dreams are filled with the most lustful images. The man you’re snuggling with is now on top of you, kissing you, undressing you. His hands can’t move fast enough. His eyes, though tired, are dark and full of desire. He’s lighting this fire deep inside of you.

The more Shota kisses you, the more you find yourself getting aroused. Your thighs are sticky with your slick. His name falls from your lips in soft pants. He’s just about to spread your thighs when you are jolted awake.

The sensation of his hands is still so real on your body. Yet, Shota is sleeping right next to you. Your neediness gets the best of you, so you roll over and you wrap your arm around him to pull him closer. He doesn’t wake up; instead he lets out this soft moan.

Your hand wanders under the blankets, feeling the toned muscles of his body. He grunts softly, but still he lays sleeping. You know that just your touch is enough to make him feel things, but he’s not roused out of his sleep just yet.

Slowly, you push your hand into his baggy sweatpants. The minute you touch the tip, he’s breathing heavily through his nose. You weren’t expecting him to be hard, so you wonder if maybe he’s been having similar dreams as you just had.

You begin to stroke him, using the precum from the tip to lubricate him. Still, he’s sleeping despite all the stimulation. Chuckling to yourself quietly, you lean in to begin pressing kisses to his neck.

Suddenly, you feel him turning to look at you. There’s this dark look in his eyes. He’s not quite fully awake, but he’s conscious now. He looks at you like he’s about to devour you whole.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Shota asks.

You stammer, “I-I…was just…”

“You were just what? Touching me? You better finish the job then, trouble.”

Your eyes widen a little. He grips your wrist, making you move it to stroke him once more. The way he’s beginning to buck up into your hand lazily makes the need that started to pool between your legs become even more apparent.

“You wanted to wake me up from my nap, huh? Just for a little attention, isn’t that it?” His questions make your head spin. “I know you’ve been wanting this.”

It’s not long before you find yourself on your back, your legs spread just like in your dream. Shota pulls down your pants, exposing your bare sex to him. There’s a mischievous, almost cheeky, smirk on his face as he slips his cock between your soaked folds.

“You’re such a little problem, you know that? Can’t a man just take a nap without a problematic little girl needing her pussy filled?”

There’s a moment where his eyes are scanning you completely. You always wonder what kind of look he’s giving you. Is he trying to erase your quirk momentarily so you won’t fuss and fight back or is he just assessing how aroused you are?

You let out a strangled moan as he pushes into you. You look down at where you’re connected and your jaw drops a little as you see him completely sheathed inside of you. Then without warning, Aizawa slumps against you.

“Just lemme sleep…” his moans are a little more sleepy now. “Need sleep.”

Despite his pleas for more rest, his hips begin to move. He’s so deep inside of you like this, you can’t help but hold onto him. Your nails dig into the meat of his back as he’s pumping into you over and over. The tip of his cock keeps brushing against that spongy spot inside of you, the one that brings white hot pleasure to your core.

“Are you always this wet when we nap together?” His voice is deep and raspy, his breath hot on your neck. “I bet you are.”

You can’t even think of the words to argue back. Your brain is mush from the slow, painful pace he’s using. The only thing that can come from you are such cute whines. Aizawa has to bite his lip and take a deep breath to prevent himself from spilling inside of you too quickly. He didn’t realize just how pent up he was until just now.

The minute your fingers tangle in his hair and you pull him in for that lazy, sloppy kiss, Shota knows he’s probably done for. He stills himself, allowing himself a moment to rethink everything. Then he smirks as he licks his thumb, bringing it down to your swollen nub.

“Haaaah—Shota, please…”

Your whines are heavenly, but oh so bratty. He thinks to himself that he shouldn’t be enjoying this so much, but the comfort of having your silky walls clenching around him as he lazily pumps into you is the most soothing thing in the world.

“You were asking for this and now you can’t take it?” He questions, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Oh you are trouble, aren’t you?”

He leans in to nip at your bottom lip before kissing you. Every move is almost calculated to tip you over the edge, despite his sleepiness. His eyes may be half-closed, but he’s keeping a very careful watch on you.

You scramble to try and grab onto him as you feel the coil in your stomach about to snap. Aizawa doesn’t let up, instead he keeps such a consistency that drives you crazy. With a shudder, you fall off the edge, pulling him with you.

Warm, thick ropes of cum begin to fill you up. Your arms pull him in even deeper, if possible. Your moans are so sickeningly sweet, Aizawa swears he’s cumming harder than he has in a long time. And then slowly, he’s stopping his pace.

“Now,” he murmurs as he nuzzles against your breasts. “Let me sleep, trouble.”

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024-- do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

[satansapostle6]

Love The Sinner | Dexter Morgan

Dexter Morgan, a vigilante serial killer hiding in plain sight, loses sleep for the first time in his life when he’s met with the very last thing he expected: a kindred spirit.

Warnings: Violence. Mature language and themes. Sexual content.

Part One. Eyes of Darkness.

Most people, when they’re getting arrested, shit their pants with fear. Some scream, some cry. Some rage, and some try to run, and some just freeze. That’s what you usually see, when you’re in your parents’ living room, and your dad can’t wait to turn on the TV to the channel dickety-six news, of all things. But sometimes, people have other reactions when being handcuffed and shoved in the back of a squad car. Sometimes people enjoy it, for one reason or another. I smiled when Miami Metro put me in cuffs on the news. Laughed, even. You see my story is many things, but boring certainly isn’t one of them.

Let’s start simple. My name is Nicole Carvalho, and as of today, America knows me as ‘Murderous MILF’. You really can’t make these things up; I love this country. I keep reminding myself, if I ever go free, I need to clip that out of the newspapers. But see, right now, at this very moment, I’m sitting alone in an almost blindingly white interrogation room at the precinct, waiting for a cop to question me while they study me on the surveillance footage. I can’t lie, I’m sitting back right now in my chair, smirking. You see, I killed the men who violated and later took my baby girl’s life, and I’m currently very pleased with myself.

I don't think my grandfather pictured this when he left Brazil. This truly is the American dream; committing a crime and letting your own peers decide whether or not it was justified. In all honesty, a jury will be much kinder to me than ‘God’ has been. So, I figured I’d let myself have this one thing. I think I waited about a half an hour before they sent someone in; a female detective. They must’ve figured a matching vagina couldn’t hurt. The first thing I noticed about this detective was that she was strikingly young; close to my age. I’m thirty-six, so I would estimate her to be maybe a little younger.

But apart from her age, the next thing I noticed about this detective was that she was very robotic in how she interacted with me; she didn’t necessarily look like she wanted to be there. She barely looked up at me when she came in, holding my files and looking down at them like a teenager doing a presentation in high school.

“So. Nicole Carvalho. I’m Detective Morgan.”

She sits down across from me less like I’m a murder suspect and more like she’s interviewing me for a secretary job. I look at her, sitting forward as I join her in the conversation, still smug as ever. I think she was secretly hoping I’d say it, the four words that usually drove most cops insane that, for some reason, no one ever thinks to say in the movies.

“I want my lawyer.”

I smile as I say it. Detective Morgan also smiles, looking down at the table before getting up. I’ll never forget how pleased she sounded.

“Guess that means I can’t ask you anymore questions.”

She gets up and walks out, and that’s the end of it. In all honesty, I don’t think she was looking forward to questioning a woman about the murder of her daughter’s rapist. After the detective left me alone, I was allowed to call myself the lawyer that I had in mind. This, of course, was a friend of a friend, a perfectly shady guy named Johnny Bertelli, who was, in the nicest way possible, a fucking scum bag. You see, I work as a project manager at a marketing firm, so I’ve met my fair share of good lawyers, but Johnny was the fucking best.

He made Johnnie Cochran look like an idiot. He was the kind of lawyer who laughed at the prosecution in court, and I needed him. So there i was, in the Miami Metro precinct punching a number I’d gotten off Google into a wall phone. I looked around the precinct as I waited for someone to pick up, and suddenly it was like I felt a pair of eyes on me. I turned around, and I saw a pretty timid, mild-mannered looking guy who seemed as if he’d been standing there trying to figure out how to get my attention.

But the strange thing was, he didn’t seem to want my attention, at all, actually. If anything, he seemed perturbed by the fact that I was looking his way. I looked over at him, not knowing what the fuck his story could’ve been. Miami’s a weird place, because in this moment, I realized the guy wandering the precinct in a Polo and khakis could very well be an employee. I looked at the guy, not knowing what he could’ve wanted with me as I struggled with the phone. Funny enough, he actually just wanted to be helpful.

“You gotta press pound,” he says quietly, “For the call to go through,” and I almost laugh.

I appreciate the odd moment, just thanking him.“Thank you.”

He just nods, and says nothing as he quietly retreats to wherever it was he came from. I took his advice, and sure enough, the phone worked and patched me through to Johnny’s office. I wasn’t quite sure at the time, seeing as I was obviously a bit preoccupied, but I felt that strange man’s eyes linger on me for a moment. Even as I turned around, I could sense his surreal sort of presence that he had. Sure, I was used to having men’s leering eyes on me out in public; it was hardly unusual. But this was different.

Like he was less looking at my body and flesh, but more so imagining what was underneath it.

*****

The next couple years of my life were eventful, to say the fucking least. Johnny of course advised me to take my case to trial instead of taking a plea, for obvious reasons; there was no way any jury was going to give me the maximum sentence, or God forbid, the death penalty. I was a single mother who stabbed her twelve year-old daughter’s rapist seventeen times. In the eyes of the public, I was practically a fucking hero. Johnny’s confident that any jury would feel sympathetic to me, despite the brutality of what I’d done. As he says, the facts are still there.

My neighbor, a weasley little creep named George Randall got me, and my Isabelle, to trust him, and took advantage of her in the worst way. Then she killed herself, because of what he did, and I had to find out through a note left on her desk for me to find. So, I went to George’s with an empty baking dish of his, and once he let me in, I whipped out the knife I’d borrowed from him, the same knife I used to use to cook for my little girl, and I made his stomach burst like a water balloon. At this point, I’d already chosen to show little remorse for the crime I’d committed, feeling perfectly at peace with the possibility of prison, or the death penalty.

But Johnny said there was probably no need to be too fearful of either. He’d even told me there was a possibility I’d just get a few years, and then parole, or something, and I wasn’t sure that wasn’t bullshit, but I also liked his confidence. The reality of it was, Johnny had made much worse people look way better. To him, my case was already closed. All I had to do was play the part of the grieving mother, which took no effort on my part. I had to wait almost a year for my case to go to trial, which I of course did outside of a cell.

This gave me enough time to get all my affairs in order, or so to speak. My job was okay for the time being, and I knew I’d probably still have it so long as I wasn’t convicted of murder, given my ‘years of dedicated service’. Things were going to be relatively fine, eventually, but for now, I was stuck being paraded around like a jester on some twisted apology tour for avenging my daughter’s death. I’m a pretty good actor, but even my patience has its limits. And maybe wearing my white So Kate’s to court wasn’t necessarily the best judgement call.

But Johnny, being more than worth the money I pay him, made it work. I walked into the courtroom with him, humble and graceful, and didn’t let my eyes linger so as not to appear guilty. But even then, I caught a glimpse of him in the room. The guy who helped me with the phone. He was watching my trial, probably just as a police department employee. Probably.

“Will the defendant please rise?”

I complied with Judge Willis’s request, with my trusty guard dog by my side. I remained dignified, my head held high, but not too high, of course, as the proceedings began.

“Miss Carvalho. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty, your honor,” I told him.

The damage was done. My fate rested entirely in the hands of twelve strangers, and for some reason, there was a thirteenth who seemed oddly invested in the outcome.

-

Part Two.

[little-lost-lamb]

The Sting of Envy

CW: GN!MC, hurt/comfort, angst, occult practice, fluff, mention of kids (kinda?), Demons Being Overall Taller Than Humans On Average, Asmo's part is suggestive, and - of course - jealousy. Please let me know if there is anything I didn't think to add!

_____________________________________________________________

Of course you moved in with Solomon when you went back to the human realm. It only made sense; it’s a big realm after all, and you needed to be close to your teacher. To your demons, however, it was a decision that they did not like to think about. Would Solomon try something funny? What did you do together? Did you enjoy a level of domestic human bliss your demons could only dream of? Or were you largely independent of each other?

They’d probably be delusional if they thought this wasn’t right, that this isn’t where you actually belong. Safe, happy, with other humans. With Solomon. But your demons miss you desperately.

So when you invite everyone to a Beltane party to break in yours and Solomon’s new place together, even Barbatos arranges to ensure he and Diavolo can attend. No one would dare turn it down. Even if it results in envy eating away the very muscle of their hearts.

_____________________________________________________________

Lucifer

His head is swimming from glass number…2…3? He had lost count of how many glasses of red wine he had drunk at this point, but certainly more than intended. How could he not? He had to drink to try to quell the emptiness he felt seeing you thrive here, without him. Don’t get him wrong, there’s pride in this as well - he’s always proud of you. So Proud. How independent you are here. You’re so capable, so strong. You don’t need him to protect you like he did in the Devildom.

As much as he would never admit it, he adored that dependency you had with him. But not here. This is your home, your domain. What hurts the most is that, if you do need help here, you won’t be summoning him - not unless it’s something very important. You’ll call Solomon. Your roommate. He can’t bear to think of this arrangement as anything but plutonic. But he wants you to know you can lean on him for anything.

The alcohol impedes his ability to bury these emotions in the backyard of his brain. They’re inescapable. He feels the familiar sting of tears threatening to form on his lash line. You don’t need him.

“Lucifer, I need you!” 

What? 

“Can you come here for a moment? I can’t reach this serving dish.” 

He stumbles slightly from the wine as he shuffles into your kitchen and watches as you balance unsteadily on one foot, reaching helplessly and futilely at a dish perched on the top shelf. Lucifer’s eyes flit back to Solomon, his nose in his own wine glass, chuckling obliviously at some joke form Asmodeus. He saunters to your side, almost huffing. 

“Why don’t you ask Solomon? It is his home after all.” he says, more pointedly than intended.

“Huh? Are you kidding? Look at this cabinet! He’s taller than I am, but he’s still an average-sized human. He can’t reach up here either. We usually have to get a ladder or use magic. I know you can reach it easily though. C’mon, or are you really going to make me go get the ladder when you’re right here?”

Lucifer sighs and shakes his head, but he can’t hide the prideful curve of his lips. He approaches you from behind, softly resting one hand on your  waist  as he effortlessly grabs the dish and sets it gently down on the counter in front of you.

“Besides,” You lean your weight back into him, craning your neck back to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “I would rather you be the one to help me. I’ll always come to you for help when I need it.”

He blinks rapidly a few times, fighting the sting of his lash line once more as he wraps his arms around you and buries his face in the warmth of your neck

“Say it again.”

Mammon

“I have a little Beltane gift for you, MC.” Mammon’s ear perks up as overhears Solomon talking about gifts. It had better not be cooler than mine, he thinks, thumbing over his own gift for you hidden in his pocket. 

He can’t help but to peek around the corner to check out this inferior gift of Solomon’s. Mammon immediately feels put to shame by the presentation alone. The box is wrapped in brown paper, twine, and pressed human realm wildflowers, probably picked by Solomon himself. Fuck.

“Oh, no, I wish I had known!” Your brow furrows as you look up at Solomon. “I...didn’t get you anything.”

“Unnecessary.” Solomon assures you. “It’s nothing big, just something I noticed you needed.”

You smile at him and shyly open the gift, carefully handling the flowers and setting them aside to keep. Instead of an expression of delight at the box’s contents, your face falls into an expression that can best be described as guilt. 

“Solomon, I…this is so nice. Too nice. I couldn’t possibly accept something like this without having gotten you anything!” 

Humble as ever, Mammon thought, as you pulled out a new pair of leather boots. They seemed cool, well-made, designer. Not that you ever really cared about that stuff. You were modest and practical, and Mammon admired you for it. He wished he could be like you in this way. Of course, he could never turn down free designer boots. 

“MC. I have had 3000 years for my fortune to collect interest. I can absolutely afford to replace your boots - which you have worn the soles out of, by the way. Don’t think I didn’t notice. You needed new ones. Please allow me this.” Solomon softly grasped your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Mammon felt like he had been punched in the gut. “Interest” is a concept barely comprehensible to him. More familiar concepts are: “debt,” and “overdraft.” Broke. He wished he could give you anything - everything. He would spend every cent he had to adorn you in the most stylish clothes, the comfiest shoes, the shiniest jewels. He'd take you on luxurious vacations, just the two of you, to the most romantic locations in the demon realm. He would spoil you rotten. But he couldn’t - not like Solomon could. Solomon, who lives here, in this modest home with you, living like he doesn’t have a royal fortune on reserve somewhere (somewhere Mammon desperately wished he could get his hands on.) Solomon, who doesn’t waste every grimm he has gambling and splurging until he is broke enough to wait tables in a seductive bunny outfit and appease giggling, gawking beings who are not you.

Suddenly, the baggy in his pocket felt like a boulder. In actuality, the baggie’s contents are lightweight, small, and…free. But he’ll be damned to the circles before he gives up an opportunity to spoil you. 

He waits for a rare moment when you are alone, preparing something in the kitchen for the party, then he makes his move.

“MC.” 

You turn to him as he calls you, your face lighting up by his mere presence. And of course you would be happy by the presence of the Great Mammon, your first man. And maybe that would count for something when you open his gift, paling in comparison to the one just presented by Solomon. His cheeks tinge as he holds out the bag, rubbing the back of his neck shyly with his free hand. 

“Here. For you. Think of it as a gift for the host.”

“Oh, Mamms! You didn’t have to do thi-...” You’re rendered silent as you pull out a delicate, homemade bracelet. Your smile again drops, but this time it morphs into an expression of awe. You inspect it closer, sliding the colorful beads of a friendship bracelet until you reach letters.

T - R - E - A - S - U - R - E

“Mammon…”

“I-It ain’t  much! I know it ain’t, not what ya deserve, but… My luck was lousy at the track this weekend. I didn’t have much left, but I still wanted to get ya somethin’. Borrowed some stuff from Levi. He makes things like this for his “faves, waifus, husbandos,” or whatever, and he wears ‘em to think about ‘em.  I thought maybe…you could do that t-...”

Suddenly the wind is knocked from his lungs as you throw yourself at him, flinging your arms tight around his waist.

“I love it. I love it so much. I’m going to wear it every day we’re apart. Would you put it on for me?”

Mammon makes no effort to hide his satisfied grin. He slides on your homemade friendship bracelet, made with all the love in his heart, while the expensive new boots Solomon gifted you lay untouched in the box next to your shoe rack.

Leviathan

It’s too much. It’s all too much. Levi groans and clenches his stomach, the discomfort on his face apparent.

“I…ugh…I’ll be back. Where’s the bathroom?” Levi quickly darts in the direction Solomon casually points as Asmodeus calls after him, frustration in his tone. “I told you not to eat the leftover rainbow pizza when you knew we were about to come here to eat!”

“Yeah,” chimed Beel, “I wanted it to tide me over until dinner.” Beel clenched his own stomach, though likely feeling a different kind of discomfort than Leviathan. Levi doesn’t look back as he storms into the bathroom and slams the door behind him.

“Hey! Easy!” he hears Solomon’s muffled scorn, but he doesn’t care. Not when he is in so much agony. 

“It hurts, fuck…” He clenches the lip of the sink, desperately trying to control himself. And it would be so much easier if everyone else could get it together. Every one of them, he felt all of it; every one of them, all at once, seething with envy. The air was practically miasmic with it, and he had to feel the envy of all. of. them. His own was unbearable enough. He raised his face to the mirror, examining his red-tinged sclera and furrowed brows. Then something more interesting catches his tearing eyes.

No. No no no. Are you kidding him? Toothbrushes. Two toothbrushes, one no doubt Solomon’s…and one yours. The mug they’re in, is that…a Disney World cup? Did he take you to DISNEY WORLD?? The cute, fantastical mouse-themed amusement park in the human world? Where you wear matching outfits and hold hands and ride ridES AND BUY MERCH AND EAT JUNK FOOD AND…

He could feel himself hyperventilating until he finally lost control of his human form, his tailing unfurling and his horns erupting from his messy hair. 

He wanted to go to the mouse park with you! HIM! He wanted to share a toothbrush cup and home and host a dinner for his family with you! IT SHOULD BE HIM!!! 

Before his mind even knew what his body was doing, he found himself curling pathetically up into your bathtub. He spotted a pink bottle of something on the edge, and as he rested his head against the porcelain, he caught a whiff of the gloopy substance inside. It was shampoo. It smelled like you. And Solomon got to smell it every day.

It was the last thing he needed to send him over the edge. The anger of the envy he felt fizzled up all at once, leaving nothing but the despair. He choked out a muffled sob, one he futilely tried to catch with his hand before it fell through his fingers. He curled up tighter around himself and sobbed softly, just begging that no one hear him.

Knock knock knock knock.

He ignores it. That is, until he hears the door gently open. He seriously forgot to lock the door?! Way to go, Levi!

“Levi.” You step in and close the door behind you, looking at him sympathetically. There isn’t an ounce of surprise on your visage seeing him curled up in the tub. “What’s going on?”

He hides his face again, hoping you didn’t see his tear stained cheeks. Suddenly, he feels you step into the porcelain, lay down, and wrap yourself around him.

“I’m sorry it’s not very clean in here. I didn’t really expect any of you to go into the tub.” You squeeze him ever so much tighter. “You’re hurting me, did you realize that?”

“I…what?”

He flinches as you curl down the waist of your pants - just enough for his pact mark to peak out from the waistband. The skin around the sigil is red and agitated, as if it had been freshly branded onto you all over again. His mark, as he knew well, was the biggest you had, enveloping your hip and thigh. After Mammon greedily claimed the space over your heart, his jealousy made sure his was the biggest one you’d ever have. He watches you wince slightly as you pull the band back up over your stomach and feather your fingers over your thigh. 

“It’s hurting my heart too. To feel you hurting like this.”

“Disney.”

“…Disney?”

Levi sighs and hesitantly glances at you from his periphery.

“Everyone is so jealous right now. All of them. Even Barbatos! It’s suffocating me. They’re probably jealous of you being here, living with Solomon, and him having you all to himself. He’s shady, who knows what he’ll try! And I’m jealous too, you know! Of course I am! And then…then I saw your toothbrushes. And your cup. You must have gone together. And I want to go with you…” 

His voice fades to a whisper, every ounce of his energy sapped by the envy radiating within the house. You are quiet for a moment.

“Do you know why he took me?”

 Levi barely cared, but he listened anyway. 

“Barbatos stopped by one day. He had some kind of business with Three Crows and took the opportunity to say hello. He mentioned that Diavolo and you guys were all at Devilcat Land that day. After Barb left, I was so sad, wishing I could have been there with everyone. With you.”

This got Levi’s attention, and he huffs out a short burst of disbelieving laughter.

“We had to leave early because I started crying on the teacups. It made me think about that time,” you interrupt yourself with an involuntary chuckle, "that you spun our cup so fast that Lucifer threw up! The Avatar of Pride! Spun a little too fast and threw up in a Devilcat trash can!” 

Levi softens, laughing with you, his grip around you tightening.

“Don’t be jealous.” You press a soft, sweet kiss against his lips, wet with tears. “Because I miss you every day.”

Satan

He knew he must have mirrored Lucifer’s body language, brooding over his glass of red wine, but he was too mad to care. Maybe “mad” wasn't precise. His eyes went to Levi, his face contorted with some sort of discomfort and clutching his stomach. Asmodeus made  a comment about Levi’s upset stomach, but Satan was too emotionally intelligent to believe it was his lunch from earlier that ails him: he must be overwhelmed by everyone’s envy.  Levi’s. The rest of his brothers’. Satan’s.

Satan kept it hidden well, of course. It was what he did constantly and what he did best - keeping his emotions in check. His expression had yet to falter and his tail remained concealed as he perused the selection of your bookshelf. He allowed himself a subtle smile, seeing some of the books he had loaned you. He spies a few books that seem like human realm bestsellers he didn’t recognize, but he hoped you’d loan him later if they were any good. He trusted your taste in literature. A few magical reference books, and…oh please… The Lesser Key of Solomon. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. How pompous to have a copy of your own book in your own house. He could feel his irritation rising.

“MEOW.”

His head immediately snaps to the source of the familiar sound. A small, adorable, yellow cat prances right up Solomon, nuzzling his precious fluffy face on his leg. Solomon shifts his attention to the cat and scritches his chin. “Oh! There you are.”

Satan’s head goes fuzzy, his ears buzz, and his heart practically drops into his feet. This was it.  He felt the barbs of his tail flick against his ankle and fortunately had the wherewithal to wrap it around his leg before it hurt someone. He stares, jaw hanging, mouth agape. You have a cat together.

“You…have a cat together…” His tone is somewhere between a question and a statement. The displeasure is now apparent on his face. 

They have a cat together.

“No!”  Satan is grounded by your cry and the thunder of legs pattering down the stairs. “He was supposed to be a surprise!” You hurry down in a frazzled state and scoop the cat up into your arms.

“Tch. He’s not my cat.” Solomon finally teases. “He’s mostly MC’s. We found him wandering outside soon after we moved in here. Ask MC what they named him. I wanted to name him Abraham.” 

Still, Solomon stares fondly at the cat, and holds his paw between his thumb and index fingers. For a moment, it almost sounded like Solomon’s tone had a hint of jealousy of its own. You carry the bundle of fluff over to Satan. You give the kitty a loving kiss on the forehead before passing him to Satan’s oh-so-eager arms. Satan runs a finger over the cat’s green collar until he finds the name tag. He flips over the little silver fish to reveal the cat’s name.

Satan Jr.

The flush on Satan’s cheeks creep across his entire face, ears and all. 

“I know Lucifer won’t let you keep one, not after the incident. I thought, maybe…he could be our cat. And, you know, mostly live with me. But still!”

Satan peered down wide-eyed at the bundle of fluff, already so comfortable in his arms. Satan Jr.? Theirs?? It felt almost like…this cat was their child. In an instant, every ounce of fury that had built up in his body was transmuted to bliss. He arranged Satan Jr. in his arms so he was pressed against his chest, caressing him like he might his own spawn.

“Then I suppose we have a cat together.”

He tried to play it cool, but you couldn’t help but chuckle at the unbridled joy on his face and the brightness in his smile.

Asmodeus

He is definitely seeing something he shouldn’t - but he can’t look away.

It’s perhaps one of the most beautifully surreal scenes he’s witnessed since his time in the Celestial Realm, yet it’s so unapologetically human.

He had initially been drawn to the sound of your sweet voice, singing as clear as crystal rims in the echoes of the kitchen while you watched over the honey cakes in the oven. He was pulled in as if it were a siren’s song, but it wasn’t. It was beautiful you. 

He stopped himself from joining you when he heard Solomon’s voice, equally beautiful and equally moving, begin to duet your own. 

Perhaps the song had started one day as one of you overhearing the other, recognizing the melody, and clumsily singing along. Now, however, it was like some kind of hauntingly beautiful mating call between two human lovers. Your voices were intertwined, complimenting each other, rehearsed. You two must have sung this together often.

Asmodeus couldn’t help but peek at his two favorite humans in the kitchen, but now he almost wishes he hadn’t. 

Because what he sees when he peers in is the two of you, dancing slowly and softly together as you sing your beautiful melody to each other. Solomon smiles and stares lovingly into your eyes as your cheeks flush and you sing your line. The adoration in Solomon’s gaze is unmistakable. His hand in your hand, Solomon softly rocks you to the music the two of you create together. The golden hour sun lights up every single color on your irises and peppers your skin with the rainbows from the suncatchers you’ve hung in the kitchen window. 

From the open window pours a warm spring breeze that lifts your hair to dance in the currents, and assaults Asmodeus’ face with the sweet scent of spring flowers and…you. 

It is ethereal. 

To see such beauty completely removed from himself begins to arouse envy in his chest. This kind of beauty is unique to humanity, and he cannot be a part of it. But it is not you he is envious of.

Asmodeus loved Solomon. He did. But he had felt the kind of love he feels with Solomon before and will likely feel it again. You, though. You. You made him experience that agony and euphoria of being in love. A feeling he thought he was completely incapable of. Until you.

But if his favorite humans were mates, then…that made sense right? You make sense together. And Asmodeus could have his pick of anyone else in the three realms. Maybe he could even convince the two of you to let him in on things. So why did it hurt so much?

“Apologies, darling apprentice, but I saw your grimoire open this morning. You’re working on a Beltane ritual, yes?”

The singing stopped, but Solomon’s grip on you remained. Asmo could still hear Solomon’s voice despite his hushed tone, because he could pick up the tone of seduction anywhere. While ordinarily Asmodeus would appreciate the game, the honey in Solomon’s words to you made him sick. 

Even as a human realm holiday, Asmodeus had heard of Baltane. This one, after all, was adjacent to his domain: a holiday of flames, fertility, and…

“I could help, if you’d like me too. We can even jump over the flame together this year. Wouldn’t that be fun? Then, once we prepare, we can perform the ritual.” Though Solomon whispers against your ear, Asmodeus can faintly make out Solomon purring, “Sex magic is very powerful.”

And with that, Asmodeus was gone. He’d already seen too much. 

After dinner, as Asmo shoved his arm through the white, leather sleeve of his jacket to leave, he wondered how he could distract himself from yours and Solomon’s…ritual…later. Perhaps he could find someone at The Fall to drown his sorrows in. After all, it’s not like you and Asmo were exclusive. You could fuck whoever you wanted and he wouldn’t care, he lied to himself. He’s shaken from his jealous slurry of thoughts by a warm hand on his forearm.

“Asmo, wait!”

He takes a deep breath before turning to face you. “I had a great time tonight, hun, thanks for inviting us! I have to get going, but-“

“I need your help with a ritual tonight!” 

Your cheeks flush and your eyes sparkle as you look at him. You’re projecting an air of shyness, but Asmodeus can smell it in your pheromones, no mistake. Lust. You were simply adorable. “P-please.”

Ah, interesting. So the ritual wasn’t meant to be performed with Solomon. It never was. How embarrassing for Solomon. Amusement dances in his eyes thinking about you rejecting his advance mere moments after he had walked away. Solomon would be spending the night of Beltane alone, while Asmo…

The corners of Asmodeus’ mouth curl into a dangerous smile and he gently pulls you into him by your hips.

“It’s Beltane, is it not? What kind of ritual could you need me for, darling?”

You’re silent a moment, the blush dusting your cheeks deepening by the second. “It’s Beltane.” You respond.

“Well, well…” You could practically see the hearts in his eyes just before he gently pulled your mouth to his, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. He murmurs against your lips in a deep, seductive tone, “Blessed Beltane.”

Part 2 ->

[slaymitchabernathy]

Let it Snow

Coriolanus is sound asleep in his nice, warm, comfy, warm bed. And better yet, with his fiancé right next to him, wrapped in his strong arms. It’s the kind of thing a man dreams of but Coriolanus has worked hard to get to where he is, to be able to provide a life of comfort and luxury for his darling fiancé.

He was content to sleep for another six hours before the alarm clock went off, waking him from his slumber so he could trudge to work but her cat, the little diva has different plans apparently.

Coriolanus can hear her pacing around, even in his deep sleep the sound of her claws on the hardwood floor are like nails on a chalkboard to him. And then she starts talking, meowing, yowling as if it isn’t the middle of the night.

He might just have to get a dog this Christmas to keep Petunia on her toes because this is just getting out of hand!

Coriolanus grumbles and tries to ignore her but it’s not use, the damn cat won’t shut up.

“Soarynn,” he mumbles against her back, his lips almost pressed to her shoulder, “Soarynn, please get Petunia to shut up.”

Soarynn unfortunately, can sleep through anything. The girl has been blessed with the ability to close her eyes anywhere and at anytime with out any issues.

Coriolanus is not so lucky.

Another loud meow from Petunia is all it takes for him to fully wake up and roll onto his back, staring up at the ceiling while contemplating his life choices.

Why did he have to get Soarynn a cat?

Why not a goldfish?

Goldfish die so quickly but cats can live well into their twenties.

And he knows why he got her a cat, because she was lonely at night when she’d wait for him to come home from work. He just wishes he could’ve gotten some sort of trial run with Petunia before he fully committed.

To his horror, Petunia hops onto the bed, right into his lap as if she pays the bills. When she was a kitten, she was a tyrant, running around the penthouse at night, meowing, scratching everything.

It got to the point where they had to lock her out of their bedroom if they wanted to get some decent sleep. She’s since outgrown her feisty kitten stages and has settled into the moody teenage years where she hates everyone for no apparent reason.

She only gives him a blank stare before padding over to Soarynn’s side of the bed where she’s bound to get loads of affection despite how late it is.

Sure enough, the moment her little pink nose touches Soarynn’s arm, she’s miraculously waking up. Coriolanus sits up, accepting his fate of not getting any good sleep tonight and simply settles for watching Soarynn wake up as well.

She yawns first, gently pushing Petunia away only for her to come right back, nuzzling her face. Soarynn giggles and takes a hold of Petunia, keeping her still, “Petunia it’s still nighttime,” she tells the cat.

Coriolanus grunts, arms crossed, “It certainly is.”

Soarynn rolls onto her back and holds Petunia tight against her chest, all while Petunia gives Coriolanus a smug look over her small victory. He scoffs, that diva can’t go one hour without Soarynn’s attention.

There had been that time when Soarynn went on a small trip with some of her friends and both Coriolanus and Petunia almost killed themselves in her absence.

Not that he enjoys being apart from Soarynn but at least he doesn’t start screaming about it in the middle of the night.

Soarynn finally opens her eyes and they immediately land on Coriolanus who does his best to look very inconvenienced by this whole thing, “What did you do to her Coryo?”

He might throw a fit.

He gives her a sharp look, “What did I do? She woke me up! She was crying for no reason!”

Soarynn frowns and looks back at Petunia who’s now licking her paw, acting like a perfect angel, “Petunia would never do such a thing, isn’t that right my darling?”

Petunia meows at Soarynn and then turns to look at Coriolanus, flattening her ears down and hissing.

Coriolanus points at her, “See?! She taunts me morning, noon, and now, night!”

Soarynn slowly sits up next to him, careful not to disturb Petunia, heaven forbid, and places a hand on his arm, “You two need to learn how to coexist,” she tells him.

Coriolanus raises his eyebrows because he’ll be damned if he’s the one who gets lectured. “Might I remind you that this is my house? And she is it’s newest inhabitant?”

Soarynn merely rolls her eyes in response and swings her legs over her side of the bed, “You’re so dramatic Coryo. She’s probably just thirsty. I’ll go get her some water and you can try to fall back asleep alright?”

Coriolanus keeps his stare focused on the evil cat who watches him while resting her head on Soarynn’s shoulder, smug as can be.

He watches Soarynn slowly pad over to their bedrooms doors and open them, disappearing into the hallway. She’s only gone for about five seconds before he hears a loud gasp and the sound of her footsteps running back towards their bedroom.

He sits up straighter when hearing her run.

Is there a bug? An intruder?

“Coryo! Coryo it’s snowing! It’s the first snow of the year!”

Soarynn runs back into their room and he’s pleased to note that Petunia has been put down on the floor. Soarynn runs over to the window on her side of the bed and rips the curtains open, letting the moonlight shine into their bedroom. Coriolanus yawns and slides back into bed, “That’s nice darling.”

It usually snows around the holidays but Soarynn always gets so exited when it finally does, she always wants to run outside and catch snowflakes on her tongue. They can do that tomorrow.

“I’m gonna go outside right now!”

His eyes were just drifting shut but they’re wide open now. He sits back up just in time to see Soarynn running back out of their room, this time in the opposite direction of the kitchen. Surely she won’t actually go outside this late into the night.

The sound of the front doors opening and closing quickly prove him wrong.

“This girl is going to be the death of me,” he mutters, getting out of bed with haste. Coriolanus prides himself in always looking presentable in public but this is no time for a fashion show.

He grabs his robe and puts on his slippers before grabbing a sweater from his side of the closet for Soarynn. He rushes out of their bedroom and nearly trips on Petunia who just has to be in the way all the time.

She lets out a loud meow but he ignores her and shuffles down the hallway. Soarynn’s coat is still in the coat closet so she really did run out there with no care at all.

Coriolanus wonders what that must be like as he repeatedly presses the elevator button, what it must be like to not have to worry about anything because she knows that he’ll take care of it. He’s shot him self in the foot if he’s being completely honest. He’s always insisted that she never do anything difficult and now it’s bitten him in the ass.

The elevator finally arrives and he all but punches the button to take him to the lobby. It’s almost comical how he’s forced to listen to elevator music while impatiently tapping his foot.

He finally arrives on the ground floor and is relieved to see that the lobby of his apartment building is empty. There is of course, the doorman but other than that, no one else is here. He strides past the Christmas tree they put up a few days ago and gives the doorman a curt nod as if he’s not in his pajama pants, robe and slippers.

If Soarynn isn’t going to be the death of him then she’ll certainly be the death of his reputation.

He walks outside onto the cold streets to see Soarynn frolicking in the snow. He must admit, she looks adorable spinning around in the snow. And he’s glad to see that she’s atleast wearing slippers.

“Darling,” he calls, “darling come back, let’s go back inside and go to bed.”

Soarynn giggles while the snow continues to fall around her, covering the Corso in a white blanket. He nervously looks for cars but sees none. “Soarynn,” he calls again, really not wanting to leave the sidewalk, “you’ll catch your death if you stay out here.”

But Soarynn pays him no mind and continues running around, her arms held out like she’s a little bird about to take flight.

Coriolanus sighs, women never make anything easy. He trudges out onto the street and grabs Soarynn before she can slip away, wrapping his arms around her, “I think we’ve played in the snow enough for tonight,” he says, trying to pick her up but Soarynn wiggles out of his grip. “No! No, we just got here,” she says, shaking her head, “we should play a game.”

He can feel his eye twitching, “Alright. Let’s play ‘go back upstairs and get into bed’. One, two, three, go!”

Soarynn rolls her eyes, “Coryo,” she whines.

Coriolanus pinches the bridge of his nose, no more patience exists in his body, “Darling, please come inside. I’m tired, you’re tired, we’re all tired.”

Soarynn pouts and he can feel himself giving in, giving into those adorable eyes and that pretty face. She’s got him wrapped around her finger and she knows it too.

He sighs, accepting defeat, “At least put on this sweater I brought for you.”

Soarynn squeals in delight from getting her way and throws her arms around him, “Thank you! We should write our names in the snow!”

Coriolanus is more focused on getting the sweater over her head but he nods along to her suggestion, “We can do that,” he agrees.

Once Soarynn is more clothed to his liking, he helps her write out their names in the snow.

“You write your name and I’ll write mine,” she tells him, very focused on the task at hand. She looks so adorable while she does it with her nose slightly scrunched which means she’s really focused.

Coriolanus smiles to himself and starts writing out his own name.

‘Coriolanus Snow’ looks very impressive in the snow he must admit.

He looks over at Soarynn’s name and his heart skips a beat.

‘Soarynn Snow’ is written and she looks so proud of herself, “I know we’re not married yet but it looks so perfect,” she says dreamily.

Coriolanus grins and stands back up, watching as she draws hearts around her name. He stands behind her, keeping her safe from any harm that might come her way while she has fun. She tilts her head back and giggles when she sees him watching her, “Hi,” she says sweetly.

Coriolanus chuckles, “Hello my sweet girl.”

He still can’t believe he’s going to marry this girl. She’s so sweet, so beautiful and kind. She’s one in a million.

Soarynn pops back onto her feet and nearly slips in the snow but Coriolanus is quick to catch her. With his arms wrapped around her waist and their faces inches apart, he can’t help but lean in to kiss her.

Even in the bitter cold, her lips are still soft and gentle. Soarynn sighs into the kiss, letting him take the lead as he so often does and when they finally pull apart, her eyes are sparkling.

She breaks away from his gaze and looks up at their apartment building, a grin grows across her lips, “I think I can see Petunia.”

Coriolanus turns to look all the way up at the twelfth floor and sure enough, he can see a tiny white ball of fluff staring down at them through one of the windows. They both laugh at the sight, she looks so tiny up there.

“We should go back in before she breaks through the window,” Soarynn says, shaking her head.

Coriolanus hums, keeping his arm wrapped around her waist as they walk back into the building.

If facing the cold means more moments like that with Soarynn, then he’s happy to let it snow for the rest of their lives.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[capr1pengu1n]

You're bleeding magic out somehow

Summary: Basically Edward shares you with Harley, pure porn guys. Warnings: smut 18+, threesome (everyone is bisexual lmao), fingering (reader receiving), cunnilingus (reader giving), praise and degradation, dom! Edward and dom! Harley (switch Harley if you squint), rough sex, one slap, leather glove kink (sorry) Words: 3.1k ----------------------------------------------------

“I told you, she’s a doll isn’t she?”

You didn’t have to look at Edward to know he was smirking as he spoke, the selfish pride in his voice palpable as he presents you like one of his trophies. You’d been together for a while, and you thought he would have kept your relationship a secret from the malevolent underworld he operates in, and perhaps he had for the most part.

“You really weren’t kiddin’” came the other voice in the room, and your eyes dart from the floor to finally take in the unexpected guest. Harley. “How in the hell did ya manage that, Eddie?”

Edward lets out a scoff, his gloved hand squeezing at the side of your waist. “Oh please, she’s dating the unchallenged mastermind of Gotham City, I’d say she was the lucky one.”

Harley didn’t seem to be paying attention to his self-aggrandizing words, instead her eyes were firmly on you. She stepped closer a little, her head tilting and causing some wispy strands of blonde hair to fall across her face. You certainly hadn’t expected anyone else to be here when Edward had texted you the location of whatever warehouse he was scheming in; you figured he wanted you to help him blow off some steam, so being confronted with the Harley Quinn when you entered was certainly a rush.

“You really are a pretty one ain’t ya?” she says with a giggle, reaching out and tilting your chin up slightly. Her heeled boots meant she could look down on you a little, and it causes the heat to burn in your cheeks.

“Harley just complimented you darling, I hope you haven’t forgotten your manners.” Edward says condescendingly, causing you to quickly thank her for her kindness.

“Awe, how well trained,” she smirked, the way they both were talking to you was clearly having an effect; both a knot in your stomach and a growing heat between your legs. “You like girls, sugar?”

Edward laughed softly at her comment, and your eyes widened a little before nodding your head.

“Perfect,” she almost purrs, before suddenly walking past you both like she hadn’t reduced you to a flustered mess with little to no effort. “You know, you could really do with some couches in here Eddie, there ain’t nowhere comfy.”

“There’s a desk and a chair, what else do I need when I’m navigating problems you couldn’t possibly hope to understand- “

“Well, I guess that’ll have to do” she cuts him off, causing Edward’s jaw to clench a little. You couldn’t suppress the little smile that played on your lips at their interactions. “Get over here dollface.”

It took you a moment to realise she was talking to you, and with a nod of Edward’s head in approval you walk over to his desk, standing in front of Harley. She hums a little as she looks over you again, her hand softly tracing your hip almost absentmindedly.

“As soon as Eddie told me he had you all to himself, I did get a little jealous” she says with another giggle, her hand rising from your hip to your waist. “And I’d love to have a little fun with ya, but if you don’t wanna, you tell me now. Understood?”

Her tone had become more serious, and you understood she was clearly seeking your consent. To describe the scenario as a dream come true would be an understatement, so you didn’t hesitate to tell her you wanted it.

“Don’t think she’ll have free reign over you though” Edward’s voice cuts through the tension between you and Harley, as he comes up behind you and leans near your ear, “I’ll make sure you don’t forget who you really belong to.”

He pushes you forward a little, causing you to stumble against Harley, your chests practically pressed against each other. You could smell the sickly-sweet perfume on her as she captures your lips in a kiss. It was like she was trying her best to start slow, but she just couldn’t resist running her tongue over your bottom lip, eliciting a gasp from you. Taking this opportunity of weakness, Edward’s hand firmly grabs at your hips as he trails kisses along your neck and towards your shoulder. Trying your best to stay still and not shiver, you do your best to match Harley’s intensity as you hold on to the tops of her arms. However, it was like the wind had been knocked out of you when you felt your skirt move and a hand cup your clothed cunt.

“Harleen,” Edward mumbles a little harshly against your neck, “Do you truly have so little patience?”

Harley just laughs softly, giving you a soft slap on your clit before pulling her hand away and holding both up in a mock surrender. “Can ya blame me? She’s just gorgeous.”

“I suppose you have a point,” he says, “I’m guessing she was already wet?”

“Soaked.”

“What a needy girl.”

The way they spoke like you weren’t even there, embarrassingly causes you to have to bite your lip to hold in a whimper, your thighs pressed tight together.

“Come on Eddie, the poor thing is dyin’ on us.” she laughs, almost mocking. You turn slightly to look up at Edward, hoping the pleading in your eyes will convince him to move more at Harley’s pace. He scoffs, but you can see the trace of a smirk on his lips.

“Alright, only because a guest is here. I can’t have you getting spoilt now, can I?” and with a smack on your ass, he instructs you to sit on the desk. You watch as he whispers something to Harley, before she nods and stands between your legs. Her hands move up your thighs, excitement bubbling in your chest before she swiftly digs her nails in and drags them, enough to leave a mark. You gasp, hands gripping the edge of the desk at the sudden sting.

“So ya have something to remember me by.” She says teasingly, before hooking her fingers under your panties and pulling them down roughly. Red and black painted nails smooth over the marks on your thighs, before flipping your skirt to ensure you were fully on display to the two pairs of eyes that were on you.

“So pretty…” she whispers softly, before bringing her hand up and gently starting to circle your clit. At the same time, Edward moves to stand next to Harley, your right thigh separating the two criminals. He tugs your shirt up, exposing your bra and roughly groping your chest; quite the contrast to Harley’s more gentle ministrations.

As her fingers move a little faster against your throbbing clit, she makes the remark “you ain’t even taken off your gloves” to Edward. He meets your eyes and smirks before he replies.

“Oh trust me my dear, she likes it. Watch.”

He brings his hand up to your chin, holding it for a moment before pressing his thumb into your mouth. The feeling of the leather in your mouth makes you moan softly, sucking like the obedient girl you were for him. You heard Harley laugh, as Edward forced his thumb in deeper, before pulling it out and giving your cheek a gentle slap.

Not being given much time to react, you felt Harley’s finger against your entrance before she plunged it in roughly. On instinct your thighs move to close, before she uses her other hand to yank them apart again and snap “stay”. Before you can truly register the pleasure, she has two fingers deep inside you, setting a rough but steady pace. As your noises grow more frequent, Edward’s hand comes to rest on your throat, not yet squeezing. The sloppy sounds of your wet cunt were loud and cause your face to flush, your eyes darting away to instead look at the two super-villains watching you fall apart for them; Edward’s eyes laser focused on Harley’s fingers going in and out of you, and it makes you whimper at the sight. His eyes snap up to yours, before he leans in to kiss you.

“Enjoying yourself? I suppose someone like you was made to be the centre of attention,” he taunts against your lips, reveling in the pitiful nod you give him. He tightens his grip on your neck, causing a shaky gasp and your cunt to tighten.

“Damn, she got tight when you choked her. Do it again,” Harley ordered, a wicked smile on her face.

“I don’t take orders from you.” Edward mutters in a prideful manner, but he couldn’t resist tightening his grip again. A satisfied grin was plastered on his face when you elicit the same response, your knuckles going white as you grip the desk for what felt like your life.

“Awe, ain’t you such a little whore.” Harley taunts in an excited manner; she truly looks like the kitten whose got the cream as she makes you writhe and moan at her touch. She starts to curl her fingers inside you, getting you more worked up as your hips attempt to buck up with each thrust. Your eyes are drawn away from Harley to Edward as you notice how invested he is in the sight in front of him. As much as he’s trying to hide it, he’s clearly affected by the sight of Harley finger-fucking his girlfriend on his desk, his bulge straining against his suit trousers. With a shaky sigh, you meet his eyes, and he knows you’re getting close.

“You want to cum?” he asks, moving his hand from your throat to toy with your clit, Harley’s rough pace never slowing as you pathetically babble that you need to. “Well, I suppose you should beg Harley, shouldn’t you? And make sure you’re polite.”

You immediately start begging, looking at Harley through watery eyes as you do your best to convince her of your desperation. A smirk plays on her lips as she watches you intensely.

“Awe sugar, you got the cutest lil’ voice when you beg” she says in a saccharine sweet tone, “I don’t know if I believe ya.”

You whine. Loudly. “Please Harley I-I’ll do anything please I just…need to cum, please.”

“Anything?” she growls out, and somehow manages to thrust her fingers faster. She laughs in your face as you nod, “I’ll be nice to ya, cum on my fingers then.”

As she gives you permission, Edward circles your clit faster, causing you to cry out and cum all over her hand. You feel your hair stick to your face as your chest heaves, Harley’s fingers leaving your pussy with an embarrassingly wet noise. She immediately brings her fingers to her mouth, sucking them in a lewd manner and winking.

“Delicious.”

Edward’s gaze lingers on the show for a little bit too long, before he looks back at you.

“Look at the mess you’ve made, so dirty” he patronises, running his hand over the wetness of your inner thigh, tracing the nail marks Harley left with his index finger, “I hardly think it’s fair that you get to have all of the fun, hm?”

You nod obediently, eager to please them both which delights Edward’s possessiveness.

“You could fuck her here Eddie,” Harley begins, tapping your oversensitive clit, “while I get to fuck her mouth. Whatcha think?”

“Perfect, are you alright with that darling?” he asks you, and once you give consent he tugs you off the desk and gives you a grin, “Right, you bend over. Harley, get comfortable.”

As you do as he says, you can feel butterflies in your stomach at the excitement. You and Edward have done some very kinky things, but to get to partake in a threesome with, in your humble opinion, the hottest and most dangerous woman you think you’ve ever seen was making your breath heavy and your skin hot. Bending over the desk, you watch in awe as Harley jumps up on the desk and slides her black and red shorts down her legs, leaving her thigh high socks on. Your eyes are glued to her body, and you even hear Edward mutter a laboured “christ…” as she puts on a show of taking her underwear off.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” She teases with a wink, before sitting and getting comfortable with her cunt right in front of your face. You push your head forward, before she presses her fingers to your forehead, holding you back and making you let out an involuntary whine.

“Not until he’s inside ya sugar, you alright back there Eddie? Something distracting ya from fucking your little doll?”

You hear him grumble some variation of “shut up”, and you bite your lip to suppress the giggle bubbling up in you at the sound of him flustered. All thoughts vanish from your head though when you feel him press against you, rubbing up and down and catching on your clit. You try and grind backwards, leading him to slap your ass harshly.

“I’m in control, remember?” he says harshly, and due to the circumstances it’s hard to tell who he’s actually speaking to. Finally, he sinks into you slowly, letting you savour every inch as you gasp and keen beneath him. Once he’s inside you, he pulls back and slams back into you, causing you to lurch forward and luckily this time, Harley lets you start to lick at her pussy. You arch your back a little as he starts to set the pace, at the same time that Harley tangles a hand in your hair. Eyes closing, you can barely handle the sensations that are wracking through your body with each snap of his hips, each tug of your hair to guide your tongue to where she needs you.

The blonde’s voice sounds angelic to your ears, her moans getting higher whenever you drag your tongue a certain way. You try your best to maintain a good rhythm, but it’s hard when your being fucked in just the right way by your criminal boyfriend. Feeling his fingers digging in to your hips, you realise he’s taken his gloves off; opting to reach under your skirt to bruise you with how tight he’s holding on. Sucking her clit softly, you’re graced with another high-pitched moan from Harley, her grip on your hair tight.

“Fuck…you’re just perfect ain’t ya?” she slurs out, bucking her hips into your face. All you can do is moan softly into her cunt, resting your hands on her thighs to stabilise yourself.

“Made for this, weren’t you? Being used like a toy by two criminals.” Edward grunted, moving his hand to knead the soft skin of your ass. You nod as best you can against Harley cunt and let out a soft noise of embarrassment at his words, gripping her thighs a little tighter almost as your small revenge for her marking you earlier. She doesn’t seem to mind, still whining at the movement of your tongue.

“How cute, you like that baby? Gotham’s best and baddest fuckin’ ya dumb?”

“Of course she does, look at her. How pathetic.”

Fuck you can barely breathe with how turned on you are, their taunts somehow making you even wetter and your eyes to roll back even more. Time seems to be an illusion you can’t process, how long had they been fucking you?

“Such a filthy girl.”

You’re barely sure you can even register which of them just said that, your brains leaking out of your ears. Snapping partly back to reality, Harley pushes you further against her as her whimpers get more breathy. You can tell she’s getting close, so you try your best to maintain the rhythm of your tongue, wanting nothing more than for her to finish.

“Just like that sugar…gonna make me cum, yeah?” she manages to stutter out, her grip in your hair brutal, not that you mind. You could only imagine that you’d heard a chorus of angel’s singing from heaven when Harley cums all over your face, her voice desperate and powerful and stunning. Lapping up her cum as best as you could, she finally releases you, your face now half against the desk as you were still getting railed.

“I suppose you deserve a reward then, for making Harley feel good hm? Do you want the…fuck…the privilege of me finishing inside of you?” he growls at you, grabbing your hand and shoving it between your legs, “Tell me. Tell me how much you need the riddler to cum inside you.”

The combination of being allowed to touch yourself, Edward’s brutal pace and Harley looking down at you was proving to be too much. You stutter out how much you need him, how grateful you were, all the things that stroked his already inflated ego as his thrusts seem to go even deeper. You feel that you’re on a knife edge, so close to cumming you can almost taste it. With a glance up at Harley, her soft features smile at you as she strokes your flushed cheek.

“Go on sugar, you can do it. Cum.”

Her gentle words send you over the edge, crying out as tears form in your eyes. The pleasure is overwhelming, Edward’s pace not slowing until he suddenly stops, and you feel him finish inside you with a groan. The strong intakes of breath aren’t enough, as you feel the world dissolving around you before Harley gets off the desk and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“Well done baby, you were amazing.”

“You know, I didn’t actually give her permission to cum.” Edward grumbles as he pulls out, fixing his trousers. Harley just rolls her eyes playfully.

“He always this grouchy after fucking the life out of ya?”

“Don’t answer that.” He snaps, but when you turn to look at him, a small smile traces his features. Shifting uncomfortably, you precariously stand back up, feeling his cum start to leak out of you. Harley quickly grabs your underwear and helps you back into them, giving you a comedically big kiss on the cheek.

“Gotta say I’ve had a blast, you two gonna let me join in again sometime?” she asks cheekily.

“Maybe,” Edward says with a smirk, “and maybe we can work on that attitude of yours Harleen.”

She just laughs loudly, flicking Edward’s nose, and if you could have paid all the money in the world for a picture of his face at that moment, you would have.

“Yeah right. I think I’ll just stick to ruining your girl.” She teases with a wink, before getting dressed. As Edward pulls you against him and asks softly if you’re alright, you can’t help but blush and wonder about this new dynamic that seems to be unfolding. Safe to say, Harley was going to be keeping your relationship much more interesting, and you couldn’t be happier.

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thank you for reading my incredibly self indulgent smut fic lol x

[arieslost]

pole! | ln4

summary: user arieslost got so excited about a lando pole that she wrote a blurb about it

word count: 774

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

a wet track is no one’s dream, really.

it certainly isn’t yours, especially because you’re one of mclaren’s many supporters concerned about the layout of the shanghai circuit. the long turns and endless straights had you chewing your nails just looking at a picture of it, much less actually being there in the garage watching your boyfriend and his teammate during free practice 1— the only time they had to acclimate to the circuit before sprint qualifying.

as if that in itself wasn’t stressful enough, it starts raining during the qualifying session.

you know lando is good in the rain, really good even, but that knowledge doesn’t stop your heart from beating faster when it’s properly raining, everyone is slipping and sliding on the track, and lap times are being deleted left and right. which is why you have to restrain yourself from immediately celebrating when lando goes to the top of the time sheet, nearly 1.3 seconds clear of lewis hamilton, and gets on provisional pole.

“come on, come on,” you mutter to yourself, thumbnail between your teeth as you keep your eyes glued to the screen.

and, sure enough, his lap time is deleted for exceeding track limits at the final corner. you watch, crestfallen, as his name goes from first to the bottom. at any rate, you’re happy that someone other than red bull is on pole, but even seeing lando on the front row was exhilarating.

the time runs out on the session. you’re in the middle of letting out a long sigh, mentally preparing to comfort your boyfriend, who you’re sure is kicking himself already, when you happen to glance back at the tv at the exact moment his name shoots back up to p1.

“yeah baby!” you hear lando say over the radio in response to being told he’s officially on pole. “beautiful. simply beautiful.”

the rest of your sigh leaves your mouth, but instead of disappointment it’s complete and utter relief, a giddy laugh following right after. you’re always excited to see lando after he’s been in the car, but now you’re really excited.

you wait as patiently as you can while he talks to the media, and the moment his eyes meet yours you can tell that he’s having just as much trouble keeping his true excitement at bay.

you meet him halfway when he makes a beeline for the garage, letting out a quiet oof when his arms go around your waist and your feet leave the ground.

“fucking pole! holy shit, babe,” you laugh breathlessly in his ear when he sets you down and hugs you tight. “you scared me so bad.”

“you’re not the only one,” he replies, subtly kissing your temple before pulling you into the garage, away from the three cameras that have swiftly turned to face you both.

“p-freakin-one,” he says as soon as you’re both in the quiet safety of his drivers room.

“how does it feel?” you ask, taking a seat on the bed.

he leans against the closed door for a moment, a dreamlike smile on his face. “amazing. it always feels amazing.” he pauses. “almost forgot what it felt like, honestly.”

you hum. “hopefully it’s the first of many this season, hmm? i think you’ll win.”

“of course you do, baby.” he laughs, joining you on the bed.

“i’m serious!” you huff, bumping his shoulder with yours. “as long as it rains again. otherwise you’re cooked.”

lando’s jaw drops, and you press your lips together to poorly conceal a smirk. “all you ever do is hurt me,” he says dramatically, turning away from you.

“oh, come on,” you giggle, wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your chin on his shoulder. “you and i both know that i have the utmost faith when it comes to you.”

“do you? do you really?” he asks, continuing with his little act.

“look at me,” you coo, turning his chin to face you.

even acting all mad, he still fixes you with such a loving look that you can feel yourself melting a little.

“i. love. you,” you say, punctuating each word with a short kiss on his lips. “and when you win tomorrow, you know exactly what i’ll say.”

“yeah, i know,” he tugs you into him, finally giving up on his act.

and so, when he wins, he’s perfectly in tandem with you when you scream, “i told you!” as he practically jumps across the barrier to get you in his arms.

lando norris. sprint winner. the love of your life, who would have been way less confident in himself if he didn’t have you.

note: i know i said i wasn’t posting this week but as it turns out, i am a liar. something something don’t blame me love made me crazy

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @vintagefucksstuff @piastorys @jisungstuff @personwhoisther

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

I lean against the window in order to steady myself, force myself to look away from Asher and focus on Kiyoshi, and try with everything I have to keep my expression calm as my heart pounds in my chest.

It’s a quick meeting, ten minutes at most, but it feels like it drags on for hours before he finally dismisses us.

I curse myself for always standing in the back as I wait for everyone else to walk slowly out the doors. Though, it ends up being for the best because no one notices when I break off from the group and race toward the bathroom.

I burst through the door, lock it behind me, and run to the sink. I turn on the cold water and splash it onto my face, shocking my system, then grab a towel and cover my eyes.

I breathe into the darkness and focus on the monotonous hum of the fan above me. Slowly, I feel my heart rate return to normal, my muscles relax, and the world around me becomes solid again.

I splash my face once more, and as I’m patting it dry, a small laugh escapes me. The whole thing is absurd, isn’t it? It was just a dream. I’ve known Lex for almost three years, and Asher is her best friend. How do I know this? Because certainly she’s talked about him before, and I’ve probably seen photos too.

So, I dreamt about him, so what? Sure, it’s weird and random, but aren’t most dreams weird and random?

I shake my head, feeling a bit ridiculous as I leave the bathroom.

Before I sit at my desk, I pick up my mug and decide to try again to fill it.  

As I turn the corner to the kitchenette for the second time that morning, I see him, standing there at the coffee machine with his back to me. I hesitate, tempted to give up and walk away, but my feet step forward, almost of their own accord, and before I know it, I’ve reached the counter.

“Hi,” Asher says with a smile as I approach him. He has such an easy way about him. I watch as he fills his mug and reaches for the sugar packets, sliding to one side to make room for me. He glances up at me and I’m struck with the realization that I didn’t respond to him, and if I don’t say something soon, I’m bound to make things weird.

“Asher, right?” I say, finally.

“That’s right.”

“I thought Evan was supposed to be giving you a tour or something.”

“They abandoned me already; can you believe it?”

“What?” I ask, confused. I can’t imagine Evan doing something like that.

My expression must amuse him because he lets out a laugh. “I’m kidding. They stopped to talk to someone, so I took the opportunity to grab a coffee before they show me around.”

“Oh. You’re funny.” I regret it as soon as I say it, my stomach twisting. It probably came out sarcastic even though I didn’t mean it to. He doesn’t seem to mind though.

“Sometimes,” he says with a smirk. “What’s your name?”

“Atlas.”

“Atlas,” he repeats my name and I like the way he says it. The way he pronounces each letter clearly. I want to hear him say it again.

As if he can hear my thoughts, he says, “Atlas. Yeah, Lex has told me about you.”

“Really? Good or bad?”

“Oh terrible, awful things. She says I should stay away from you.”

I crack a smile, “You’re trying to be funny again, aren’t you?”

“Is it working?”

“Keep at it. You’ll get there.”

“I appreciate the encouragement,” he says with a laugh. And for a brief moment I forget the intense panic I felt only minutes before.

He takes a sip from his mug and grimaces, “Well, Atlas, this coffee is terrible.”

I can’t help but laugh. I don’t mind it, but it’s too bitter for most. Lex used to make me walk with her to a bakery down the street every morning so she could get a giant cup of milk and sugar with a shot or two of espresso mixed in. I will never understand the appeal of that, but they do have good coffee there.

Without thinking I say, “Yeah, it takes some getting used to. But there’s a bakery nearby that has great coffee if you’re interested.” As it comes out of my mouth, I realize it sounds like an invitation, and I’m suddenly aware of how close we are to each other. I don’t know when the space between us shrank, but I find myself fighting the urge to reach out and touch him.

When I look up and meet his eyes, he gives me a smile, “I have to get back to Evan, but I’d love to check it out tomorrow with you.”

The way he adds “with you” at the end causes my cheeks to burn, and before I can talk myself out of it, I say, “Sure.”

Prev // Next

[lowkeychenle]

모래성 [LMH] (M)

Description: You and Mark have had a friends with benefits relationship for almost a year now. He's in love with you, addicted to you, but you don't feel the same. You're his poison.

Genre: Smut

(This new song is SO good I had to write this literally immediately it has been on my mind all day)

Content Warnings: Explicit unprotected sex (Don't Do This LOL), rough Mark, kind of uncaring Mark?, bad bitch mark what else can I say

Word Count: 1,327

Pairing: Mark Lee x Reader

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Juliet's Masterlist

When you and Mark first agreed to your arrangement, neither of you expected it to come this far. He certainly didn’t expect for you to stay with him, not that he was complaining. After almost a year of it, the only thing that changed for him was his feelings.

He’s in love with you, and even though you don’t feel the same way, it sure as hell seems like you do sometimes.

Like the way you’re lying in his bed right now, clothed only with his comforter. Your head rests on his shoulder as you trace shapes on his arm. Friends with benefits isn’t ever supposed to go past the friend stage, but for Mark, he had always known it was only a matter of time.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, staring at you. With his back against his headboard, all sorts of things swirl through his mind when you look up at him.

“Do you ever…” You pause, chewing the inside of your cheek. “I just feel like I could do this for a long time.”

His heart stutters in his chest. The moon is the only thing lighting you up, shining against your skin in a way that has him craving you all over again.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on.” You nudge him. “Don’t make me say it. You’re saying you don’t want to stay in this bed with me forever?”

But it’s different this time. He dreams about you. Craves you. Loves you. Even then, he can’t do it anymore. Your embrace no longer provides him comfort. If anything, it spreads poison deep into his heart, where it pulses and spreads throughout his body with every beat. You’re killing him slowly. Destroying him and breaking him apart with no remorse.

“Mark?” You sit up, tilting your head. “Are you alright?”

He nods. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He knows he shouldn’t. That he needs to put a stop to this before anything else happens. No matter how much you hurt him—knowingly—he could never do the same to you. He’s addicted to you in the worst ways. Every time he gets his hopes up in those tiny moments of dreaming that you love him too, he falls and crashes harder into the ground than the last time.

At that moment, he decides it’ll only be one more time. He’ll have you one more time, and then he has to be done.

The thought of leaving you tears him to pieces, but he has to stop letting you walk all over him. He needs love—real love, the kind that lasts longer than the duration of time you’re in his bed.

“I can’t fucking breathe around you,” he groans out, tangling his fingers in your hair and tugging you closer to him.

His lips find yours, mouths, teeth, and tongues clashing messily. You’re taken by surprise, but find your body molding into his anyway.

He wastes no time in sliding his fingers inside you, finding you wet and ready for him. Pumping his hand, he swallows your moans, letting out a few of his own at the way you feel around him.

Fucking addicting. Dangerous. Terrifying.

You wonder what’s gotten into him, but you don’t question it. His thumb presses against your clit, sending a jolt through your body. You cling onto his shoulders for dear life, not used to this side of Mark. He wasn’t necessarily gentle by any means, but he’d never been so blatantly rough with you before.

“Mark,” you whimper, grinding down on his hand.

“What?” he hisses, speeding up.

You reach down and find him hard and aching, ready to be buried inside you. His pace stutters a bit as you jerk him off slowly.

“Fuck me,” you demand, resting your forehead on his. “Give it to me.”

But you both know he’s already given you everything he could.

“God, all you fucking do is take.” He pulls his fingers out of you, finding his place between your legs and lining up with your entrance.

When he slams inside of you, you dig your nails into him and scream, the stretch taking a moment to adjust to.

“You’re so good at taking things from me,” he mutters, nipping down your neck. “So good at taking my cock.”

Your entire body flutters at his words and you arch into him, pulling him back down to your lips. The heat between you two is undeniable, the sweat already dampening his skin. You can barely catch your breath with how fast he’s thrusting inside you. Lifting your hips, you try your best to aid him, but your body can’t keep up with his.

“Who makes you feel like this?” he growls lowly, slamming into you. “Who fucks you ‘til you drool?”

“Mark,” you call out his name, scratching down his back.

As soon as his finger comes in contact with your clit, you shatter around him, not holding back any of your sounds as you spasm below him. He curses loudly, the lewd sounds of his skin slapping yours making you dizzy.

You wrap your legs around his waist. The new angle has your head spinning, and he’s able to get a little deeper than before. Everything about him is intoxicating, down to the way he fucks you through your orgasm.

His voice cracks when he moans and spills deep inside you, dropping his head on your neck. He only gives himself a moment there, one last second to breathe you in and remember what it feels like to be inside you.

He won’t do it again. He can’t.

“Holy shit, Mark.” You run your fingers through his hair, chuckling. “Where the hell did that come from?”

The last thing he wants to do is separate himself from you. He’s in love with you. He’d stay buried inside you all day if only you loved him, too.

He curses, pulling out of you and getting up from the bed to grab some clothes.

“Mark?” You frown, but he doesn’t look at you.

He knows if he gives you a chance to convince him, he’ll fall back into your trap. If he looks at you, he’ll remember he’s in love with you. It costs too much to keep you around—physically and emotionally fucking taxing.

“I’m gonna shower.” He stops in the door frame of the bathroom, clenching his jaw to stop it from quivering. “You shouldn’t be here when I get out.”

“What the hell?” You recoil in surprise, throwing the sheets off of you and standing up. Grabbing his T-shirt from the ground, you slide it over your head and approach him.

“Don’t.” He shakes his head. “I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. Keep the shirt as a parting gift.”

He hears you yelling at him through the door, but he masks the sound with the stream of water. Stepping under it, he’s determined to wash the last traces of you from him. He scrubs and scrubs and scrubs, but it’s no use.

You’ll forever be ingrained in him, no matter how hard he tries to get rid of you.

By the time he gets out of the shower, all traces of you are gone. You even made his bed, for fuck’s sake. He runs his fingers through his damp hair, sitting on the edge of the mattress and contemplating what the hell he’ll do next.

You’re poison. Everything about you is deadly, and he’s better off without you.

His heart pounds in his chest at the thought. He knows he is. That’s absolutely the truth, yet the tiny voice in the back of his mind tells him he’s making a huge mistake. That he’ll never find someone like you again.

Good, he thinks to himself. I don’t want anyone else like her.

And for a while, he does well. But just like every other time before this one, he’s too weak to escape you.

He calls you before the fucking week is through.

[thatsdemko]

you belong with me - l.hamilton

t- swift inspired works masterlist

full masterlist & part two full masterlist

requested: n

pairings: Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader

warnings: hints of jealousy

a/n: I SEE TAYLOR SWIFT TODAY!!! so in typical fashion, here’s a Taylor swift inspired work!

Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find

That what you're looking for has been here the whole time

Lewis Hamilton is known for his infamous amounts of connections. from the Latina pop singer shakira all the way to lebron james; Lewis Hamilton has connections and it’s no surprise to you that he’d date someone famous.

you expected it this whole, having grown up with him you know him from his favorite songs, to the wild dreams he’s had as a kid. he didn’t tell this stuff to just anyone, only his best friend. and that’s all you’ve ever known yourself to be.

Lewis Hamiltons best friend.

the girl on the phone that’s got him upset doesn’t know that he can’t live without looking at photo of Roscoe before bed. she doesn’t know he’s accidentally called your mom his mother. and she most certainly does not know that you dream of being his. you keep that to yourself.

it’s almost slipped. constructors cups, world championships, or pole positions. they’ve all almost led to those words sneaking out your lips.

you were so sure he didn’t feel the same way. he didn’t look at you like he did with Versace models or when dua lipa asked him for photo. you politely stand to the side with a smile on your face as the cameras flash into his sunglasses. why can’t that be you by his side? why cant you just toughen up and tell him?

oh that’s right, because he’s in love with another girl.

—

“hey, sorry about last night. I really let that argument get out of control.” he plops down on the patio furniture. he places a friendly pat against your thigh before quickly pulling his hands into his lap, “we worked things out now, she’s coming in tomorrow.”

“for the race?” you ask beginning to fiddle with the cap on your water bottle. you weren’t opposed to his new girlfriend joining you in the paddock, but you certainly wouldn’t be joining her in the garage. not with the way she made him feel yesterday.

he nods wrapping his arm around the back of the cushions, pulling himself closer to you, “I think you guys will get along. will you promise to be nice to her?”

“lew, of course I will.”

he laughs, “and don’t call me that in front of her. I’m really trying to impress, I think she could be the one.” his elbow nudges your arm, jokingly. he always loves the nicknames, especially since that one was from childhood when the letter ‘s’ was hard for you.

“I’ll call you whatever I want to.” you let out a hmph as you lean further against the cushions, slightly into his arms trying to pass on the hint. you’re sure he doesn’t notice it, he hasn’t for all these years what will change?

—

she shows up decked in Gucci and Louis Vuitton, things you could never afford. you feel small and out of place beside her, in your jean shorts and one of Lewis’ old Mercedes t-shirts. your personalities are so different, and maybe she was more fit for him. after all, they did meet at a fashion show and you met him on the playground kicking up dirt.

“good luck!” she calls out from beside you, arm waving in the air trying to catch his attention, but it’s useless. he’s too zoned in to pay attention, the race is the only thing that matters to him in this moment.

the only person he locks eyes with, is you. it’s usually right before he slides the visor down and he always does it. you never miss a race, which means he never gets superstitious, but today you’re not there. your placement is somebody else— a nobody to be precise, someone who will mess up his game.

If you could see that I'm the one

Who understands you

Been here all along

that’s what in it really does hit him. that he could have any girl or person in his garage, but the one person that matters is you. the one person he cares about isn’t standing there like you’re supposed to be.

so when he crosses that finish line in third place, he doesn’t celebrate the top ten win with her, he goes to find you. the person who he belongs with.

Standing by and waiting at your backdoor

All this time how could you not know, baby?

You belong with me

You belong with me

[deansbbyx]

I know this isn’t my usual program but I thought I’d reflect on what has happened in the last year for me. 2024 was the year filled with conventions & a lot of traveling. Whether it was a road trip to New Jersey for a supernatural convention or flying overseas to Portugal to say goodbye to my family’s home. I am truly grateful that I have been able to travel to meet my idols. It has been such a blast not only meeting them but I am lucky enough that my friends got to be there with me. Making memories with each other and seeing one another’s experiences.

SpnNj24- This was my second con I have ever gone to. These are some of my favorite photos I took that weekend. The experiences I had this time around were truly out of a fanfic. Jensen Ackles the man that you are 😩😮‍💨 (I’ll never be able to normal abt him…ever) Briana & Kim my comfort people. They are the moment, they are the light at the end of the darkest tunnel. Misha Collins…After meeting you idk if you were in character when you portrayed Castiel raising Dean Winchester from perdition. Good god man you got a GRIP 😏

FWB OTH turns 21- I was in Portugal when I found out Danneel was going to be in Wilmington NC a month later. The day I flew back home I bought my tickets and went. This was my first time properly meeting her. (Briefly met her at Hilarie’s book signing back in 23) She’s so funny and sweet. We talked for a good time during autos. Been a fan since I was 14 prior to my spn days. So this was very surreal. (I loved you first)

BostonExpo, Fwb OTH turns 21, & RICC- If little Carina could see me now she would think I’m the coolest girl ever. Meeting the people who have been apart of my childhood healed something within me. Grey was the cutest human ever. She was so excited that someone dressed as daphne. (Apparently I was the only one that day.) I wish I had more time with her but she had such a long line. Peter…Carlisle….THAT MAN!!! I love him your honor. So respectful and so sweet. The man asked if he could hug me….HELLO?! Matthew is an amazing hugger. Asked him for a bear hug and he squeezed me so tight. I regret nothing. Ending my night by being the last person in Giancarlo’s line AND him calling me beautiful was something I never expected. Meeting Hilly from Hillywood, Shantell (My Quinn) & Emmanuelle (beloved Madison) was such a fun experience too! Can’t forget Sam Witwer my favorite vampire.

SpnOrl24-Last but certainly not least! I am so happy I got to end the year with this convention. Everyone that we took pictures with were such troopers. (I’m looking at you Jensen & Jeff) We had a lot to do; between photo ops (almost missed two), outfit changes, meet & greets…we made it through. I admire and respect these men so much. They are conscious of putting in the effort to make sure they’re there for us. I am so grateful. I love them dearly. This one for sure going down in the books. (I mean cmon smooches knows my name now 😵‍💫)

Thank you 2024 for letting me grow & heal. Cheers to 2025, I’m manifesting that I’ll get to blossom and shine after all the hard work I did last year.

I hope you all get to live your dreams this new year (even if it’s just for a little.) and heal that inner child of yours.

[anama-cara]

The Healer: Bargaining finale (part 5/5)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4. Joel Masterlist

Raider!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: You finally reach the doctor's house with Joel and your sick little brother and you show Joel your appreciation. Reader's thoughts in italics. Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, sickness/fever, age gap, unprotected PIV

a/n: I wasn't sure how to end this. At first I had a much darker ending but I decided that I liked these characters too much so I added some *feelings*. Please let me know what you think

You had awoken to the sounds of birds chirping and soft breathing. Joel’s arm was draped over your waist and his hand rested on your stomach. It was pleasantly warm. In your mind you pretended that you were sleeping next to someone who actually cared. You imagined it was real. That you could have a companion that loved and protected you, that you could wake up like this next to them in the mornings. It was a nice daydream, but just that. That kind of dream didn’t exist in this new world, nothing good survived. And you certainly had no hope of finding a good man like that to love you.

Joel’s arm twitched in his sleep and you were pulled from your daydream and into your memories from the night before. How his lips felt on your neck, how his hands felt on your body, how his voice sounded as he said your name, how his fingers felt inside you.

For a moment you keep your eyes closed to the world and sink into the comforting feeling. Listening to the songbirds, letting the first rays of sunlight filtering through the tree dance over your closed lids, feeling Joel’s chest rise and fall against your back. You draink it all in, you hadn’t experienced a moment this peaceful in a long time.

There’s a rustle from the sleeping bag across the fire and you jump. Shit. What are you thinking?

You remind yourself that this is Joel, the leader of the band of raiders that terrorizes your countryside. He is not a good man, even if he is helping you, which he really isn’t, this is on just his way.  Suddenly you feel shame, you can’t believe that you let him make you cum, let him hold you, sleep beside you. You curse yourself for being so foolish and letting yourself go last night.

Sleeping beside a fucking criminal, a bully, a killer. A fucking menace. What the hell were you thinking?

You wriggle out of the bag and jump to your feet. To your relief your little brother just rolls over, still sounds asleep. You let out a breath.

“Scared of getting caught?” Joel’s voice is rough with sleep but you can hear the smile on his lips.

“Come on get up,” you kick him in his sleeping bag. “The sun is up we gotta go.”

“Ok bossy,” he grumbles as he rubs his palms over his eyes with an exaggerated yawn.

You wake up your brother as Joel packs up the camp and you’re heading out for the last leg of your journey before the sun is fully risen.

---

You’d been diligently following a few yards behind Joel, carrying your brother in your arms. He seems to get weaker with every step. In the last mile he doesn’t even respond to you when you call his name. He’s just limp in your arms and you can feel his fever burning through his clothing. You make a desperate sound as you try to shake him awake.

Joel’s head whips back. “What’s wrong?” He turns and retreats back to you.

“He won’t wake up,” your voice trembles as you’re trying not to panic. You hold back the tears that threaten to brim over.

“Jesus sweetheart why didn’t you say somethin.” He moves to take the boy from your arms but your grip tightens.

“What are you doing?” There’s fear in your accusation.

His eyes rack over your face, reading your expression. “You don’t trust me,” he says flatly but his expression almost looks hurt. He takes a breath and a hard expression returns to his face. “We gotta move a whole lot faster. If you don’t want him to die we gotta get to the house and get this fever to break.” Joel takes your brother from your arms and you don’t fight him this time. He takes off in a jog and you run after him, trying to keep up.

--

The house looks similar to yours, farmhouse style with a big front porch. Its white paint is peeling and there are a few cracked windows on the top floor but in all its still in good condition. As you come up the dirt drive you see a thin man in his late 60s watching from the window. After he sees the boy Joel is carrying, he disappears from the window only to reappear in the doorway. He sets his rifle down on the table and comes out onto the porch to meet you.

“Joel,” the man gives a stiff nod in greeting. His eyes dart to you then back to Joel.

“Doc,” Joel gives a nod. There’s respect but no friendliness there. Joel dips his head in your direction, “This here’s one of your neighbors, and this is her little brother. He’s got a bad fever and needs your help.” The doctor narrows his eyes at you and Joel, but when he looks down at the child in Joel’s arms his expression softens. “Of course, bring him in.”

You follow the him inside and Joel sets the boy down on the couch. The old man looks at you, “I’ll require a payment of course. What supplies have you brought to offer?”

“What I don’t, I-“ you stammer in a panic but Joel interrupts you.

“You and I will discuss payment later. You help him first.”

The man’s gaze shifts from you to Joel, he pauses a moment then nods in agreement. “Very well. But if he needs antibiotics the price will be doubled. Upstairs.”

Joel carries your brother upstairs and sets him in the bathtub. “Out,” the doc instructs him then turns to you. “You, undress him and fill the bath. Lukewarm. We’ll try to bring his temperature down. I’ll go get him a glass of water, we need to keep him well hydrated.” You tend to your brother for hour before the fever finally breaks. You help dress him and carry him to a bed in one of the guest bedrooms on the top floor. You go to sit beside him but the doc shoos you from the room. “No, he needs rest, out, out.” Exhausted you return downstairs and plop down onto the couch.

You must have been drifting off because you’re startled when the cushion sinks as a weight sits down next to you.  

“Doc is gonna give him some medicine, says he’s got pneumonia. You didn’t hear him coughing?”

You blink, quickly trying to gather your thoughts. “Umm, yeah, I did, I just thought it was part of a cold, you know cause its winter, I mean he always starts coughing when it gets colder. I didn’t think much of it, I was just thinking of his fever. I should have paid more attention.” Your voice tightens.

“No, sweetheart that’s not what I meant,” he trails of looking frustrated then leans back into the couch. “Doesn’t matter, it’s gonna be fine, he’ll get better now.”

“Joel, how much did he ask for? He said the medicines were expensive.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But-“

“I said don’t worry about it. I took care of it.”

You swallow, “thank you.”

His head turns to look at you, and eyebrow raised in surprise.

Tentatively you reach out and lay a hand on top of his, trying to express your appreciation. “I’m serious Joel. Thank you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches and he turns to face forward again. He lets out a sigh and leans his head back into the couch, closing his eyes and casually relaxing. You’ve never seen him like this. “Doc also said the boy needs rest so we’re gonna stay the night and leave tomorrow. Said we can sleep upstairs in the other guest room down the hall. I think he likes ya’ never seen him so generous before.”

You blink. We? “What about your mission? I thought you were supposed to meet up with your men today for a job?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “They’ll assume I got held up. They can do it without me.”

“Joel if you need to leave-“

He opens one eye to look at you. “There’s no place I’d rather be right now sweetheart.”

You swallow and gather some courage. “Joel,” you say hesitantly. “Why are you helping me? Why tell us about the doctor, why escort us, why pay for the medicine, why be… nice to me?”

He turns to face you fully now, his hand strokes your cheek then returns to grip your hand. You instinctively tense and go to pull your hand away but you stop as his eyes lock on yours. “Don’t you get it sweetheart?”

“What?” you reply a bit breathlessly. His eyes are making you nervous.

“I care for ya.”

You feel your heartbeat quicken and you’re silent for a moment as you let his words sink in. What the fuck?

“I know, I’m sorry for how we first met, I shouldn’ta done that, but-“

“Y-you care for me?” You can barely get the words out.

Joel shakes his head. “I shouldn’ta said nothin.” He moves his hand from yours. “No, wait-“ you reach out and grip his retreating hand. Why are you holding his hand? Why is your heart aching? Why do you want him to stay?

But despite the thoughts running through your head your body is acting. You shift closer to him and your hand that reached out to hold his is now slowly moving up his forearm in a gentle caress. Joel closes his eyes for a moment at your touch. You silently urge him to continue.

“Sweetheart I know I fucked up. You were so good to me and I didn’t treat you right. I know I don’t deserve ya.” He is looking into your eyes now, desperation in his eyes. “But I swear I wanna do right by ya. I wanna be there for you, protect you, be with you.”

You don’t break away from his gaze as you move closer still. You’re just inches away from him, almost touching his chest as he stares down at you.

“I want you” he whispers.

And finally you speak the truth that you know is in your heart. “You already have me Joel.”

Your hand glides up his arm and presses against his hard chest as you lean forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips. It’s tender and sweet and like nothing either thought you’d ever experience again in this fucked up world.

You lift your body from the couch to move fully into his lap now, straddling him. Your hands wrap around his face and you lean into him, deepening the kiss and pushing him back against the couch. His hands grip at your hips and you can feel his bulge underneath you. Instinctually you rock your hips into him and he groans in your mouth. You break the kiss and nip at his neck before sliding out of his lap and onto the floor between his feet. You kneel between his legs and look up at him, one hand rubbing circles over his knee. He’s looking down at you, slumped in the couch. You smirk as you watch his tummy rise and fall with each heavy breath. He spreads his legs more and you shuffle closer to him on your knees.

A wicked smile curves on his lips, “You gonna show me just how grateful you are now? This how ya thank me?”

You nod vigorously and reach out for his belt just as you hear the floor creak upstairs. You jump up and throw yourself onto the couch, lounge back and trying to act casual. Joel lets out a barking laugh at the panic in your eyes. “I didn’t know anyone could move that fast sweetheart,” he laughs as he pats your knee. Your heart is beating fast, you completely forgot there was someone else in this house. You were about to suck Joel off in the middle of someone else’s living room while they were just a few rooms away and could walk in at any moment.

Joel smirks and grabs your hand, pulling you up. “Come on.”  He leads you up the stairs and down the hall to the guest bedroom. “Goodnight doc, see you tomorrow,” he calls out loudly then winks at you as he shuts the door and pulls you towards the bed.

He pushes you down with his hands on your shoulders. He stands before you, tall and strong, dark eyes looking down at you and you feel yourself start to get wet. He reaches for his back and grabs his flannel, pulling it off over his head. Quickly he undoes his belt and drops his boxers and jeans in one go. He steps out of his pants and stands before you, completely naked, looking like a freaking god. You’ve never seen his body before, usually he tells you to strip and he remains fully clothed. This new imbalance has your blood pumping and your core clenching. You gulp as he closes the gap between you and scoops his hands under your arms to lift you and push you all the way up onto the bed. He lays over your body, face just a few inches above yours, dark eyes scanning yours. His hand reaches down between you to undo your pants and he pulls back for just a moment to pull your pants and underwear from your body. You take this opportunity to quickly shed your shirt before he’s back over your again. He rests on his elbows and his hands come up to cradle your face, fingers intertwining in your hair as his lips crash into yours, desperate and needy and hot. You whimper against him and he pulls back after a moment.

“Joel I need you, now.”

“Sweetheart I don’t wanna hurt you again. Lemme help stretch you first, get ya ready to take me.” His hand reaches down, trailing over your skin as he moves down your body.

“Joel, I’m ready now.”

His hand moves between your legs and he grins as his fingers reach your wetness. He rubs against your clit with two fingers. “Yeah you are. So wet for me already, fuck.” He plants a kiss to your neck, sucking at your soft skin as his other hands wraps around his cock and guides it to your entrance. You suck in a breath, tensing as you brace for the pain and the stretch, used to Joel shoving into you. But this time he doesn’t. He takes his time, slowly pushing into you inch by inch, letting your body adjust. He groans, fully inside you and you can’t help looking down between you. You watch as he moves his hips and slides in and out of you easily. He catches you staring and smirks, “like that? Want it faster sweetheart?” You nod, unable to speak, and he jerks his hips, hitting something deep inside you causing your head to fall back into the pillows. Your back arches as he sets his new pace and you groan. It doesn’t take long for you to feel your orgasm building. Your hands are gripping the sheets and you’re shaking your head and moaning as it takes over you. Your body spasms under Joel’s and he holds you down with his forearm across your chest. “Fucking bronco, hang on sweetheart I’m almost there.” He continues thrusting into you as you come down from your high and after a few more deep movements he’s spilling inside you, warmth spreading through your core. His breathing is ragged and he collapses on top of you, bodies flush against each other. He tucks you in his arms then rolls both of you to the side so he’s lying behind you, cradling you in his arms.

He kisses your hair from behind. “So fucking good.” He murmurs.

You lay together like that for a long time until your both starting to drift off.

“Joel, I-, I”

“I know sweetheart, everything will be just fine now.”

You smile to yourself as you drift off, comforted by the idea that for the first time since the world fell apart you think the next day will be a better one.

[chainkeepustogetherr]

FLUFF ALPHABET, JEFF BUCKLEY

( A ) AFFECTION - how affectionate are they?

oh do not even get me started… he is genuinely the pure definition of affectionate/an affectionate person. no matter what time it is, what vibe it is, where you guys currently are or what you both are currently doing, he certainly will show an unadulterated & unconditional amount of affection towards you. wether that be verbally or physically, it don’t matter one bit! he absolutely loves showering you with love at all times <3

( B ) BEAUTY - what do they admire most about you? what do they think is your most beautiful feature/attribute?

he loves your eyes, he finds solace & peace in lovingly gazing into your eyes. he often finds himself writing poetry in his mind of a million different ways to eccentrically describe them. same thing with your smile, there isn’t a lot more he loves then seeing you smile! especially when its caused by him <33

( C ) CUDDLES - do they like to cuddle? and if so, how?

YES. YES AND YES. it genuinely soothes him like no other. after a long, meticulously stressful day, his only remedy is eloping himself into your arms, or you into his.

& he is most definitely the skin to skin, chest to forehead type cuddler as opposed to spooning or any of the other “techniques”. it makes him feel as close to you as possible.

( D ) DREAMS - how do they picture their future with you?

i feel like, jeff’s not prone to thinking about the future, although. he is certain that a life without you in it would be bleak & miserable, & that he wants to spend the rest of his days as your lover

( E ) EQUAL - are they the dominant one in the relationship or passive?

i think he would definitely share both characteristics, not necessarily confined to one.

( F ) FIGHTING - what are they like during a fight? how quickly would they able to forgive/be forgiven?

id say jeff would be the kind to use words as weapons in an argument, though he would never ever raise his voice at you, or yell in any form. the second he sees tears forming within your eyes, or noticed your lack of verbal communication, he instantly rushes to your side, exclaiming how sorry he is, & how what was said wasnt meant, & that he loves you dearly

( G ) GENTLE - how gentle are they?

EXTREMELY. gentle. so so so gentle to the point where sometimes you feel as if he sees you as fragile, in the most wholesome way possible. his touch is the most delicate & gentle, alongside the way in which he tells you he loves you.

( H ) HONESTY - do they have any secrets from you? or do they share every little detail?

oh, every little detail is 1000% shared. he tells you everything, from birth to current day, mundane & classified as “boring” to moments that shaped him, its almost as if you know him just as much as he knows himself.

( I ) I LOVE YOU - how long does it take for them to say the L word? how do they say it?

he says it practically the second he feels it, most likely through a letter/poem he wrote you, or as he’s admiring you, seemingly dozing off due to his fascination with you

( J ) JEALOUSY - do they get jealous? if so, how?

yes, he tends to get slightly jealous at times. it truly depends on the person & situation. its more so a jealousy in the sense of, “thats MY lover, not yours” as opposed to an insecurity or controlling based jealousy. when jealous, he often becomes slightly smug, boasting that you are very much his, & he has the gift of being able to love you, & vice versa

( K ) KISSES - what are their kissing habits? are they a good kisser?

soft, slow & sensual would be 3 words to describe the way he kisses you. its hardly ever rushed, only ever filled with love & admiration, even in more sexual settings. & lets be real… 10/10 kisser.

( L ) LOVE CONFESSION - how do they confess their love?

1000% through a (not so) discreet love letter, pouring out every ounce of emotion he has felt for you from current day, to the moment he first laid eyes on you.

( M ) MORNINGS - how are mornings spent with them?

mornings are sooo incredibly soft w/ jeff. 9/10 you wake up entangled within each others arms, legs knotted up together, hair a total mess. he often mutters a “g’d morning my love”, before pressing a lil kiss to your temple, inching himself closer to you than before. though, morning sex is almost always guaranteed as well

( N ) NIGHTS - how are nights spent with them?

nights are often really, really calm. theyre usually spent cuddled up together on the couch, watching a stupid tv show/movie, or dancin’ around the apartment with some zeppelin playing on vinyl

( O ) ON CLOUD NINE - what are they like when they are in love? is it obvious for others? how do they express their feelings?

oh, its so stupidly obvious to practically everyone. the way in which he looks at you with soft eyes, always protective over what youre doin’, constantly asking for you to come to shows, always boasting about you, spending his afternoon’s writing poems about you, the list goes on.

he expresses them through “jokes”, or sarcasm hidden as the truth. example being, you boasting about a kind favour jeff did for you, & one of his bandmates/friends exclaiming it to be “him being totally head over heels for you”, jeff often “sarcastically” nods along saying “what can i say? its true, im totally in love with you”. “sarcastically”

( P ) PDA - are they upfront about their relationship? do they brag with their s/o in front of others? or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

i feel like, jeff would often times keep his relationship details private, feeling as though he wants to keep it between you & him, as his own, but he 10000% brags about you at any given chance. wether that be to others, or privately in his journal. though he will show you affection in public whenever he deems necessary. by no means will he stop simply because people are around

( Q ) QUIZZES - how much do they remember about you?

oh. this man remembers everything. you mentioned months ago how youd love an amethyst pendant? 4 months later he hands you one in a velvet bag. you mentioned years ago you loved glitter pens when you were a child? the ink recently ran out on your favourite pen? guess what kind of pen jeff mysteriously gives you? a glitter pen. he remembers your order to every food store, he notices & remembers the things that calm you down, the way you react to specific things, everything,

( R ) ROMANCE - how romantic are they?

i dont even need to go there.

this man, will write you novels upon novels of poems about his undying love for you, without any form of reasoning. he would do anything for you, anything to make you happy, & anything to show you that he cares

( S ) SECURITY - how protective are they of you?

extremely protective. again, he would do anything to make sure you were happy, healthy & safe. even if it meant risking something of his own.

( T ) TRY - how much effort do they put into dates/special occasions?

so so so so so so so so much effort. he’ll plan it for weeks upon weeks, remembering every little thing youve told him you loved or wanted, & placing it into one (multiple) special days.

(A/N;)

a blurb & other lil proper works are comin’ soon !! currently in the making<3

FOR NOW, enjoy this !

[opultea]

Me Instead

Younger! Ayato x GN Reader (No Pronouns)

Fluff - Drabble - Romantic - SFW - mutual pining - arranged marriage - happy ending

Word Count: 0.7k

Note: This drabble is set just after Ayato assumes his position as head of the Kamisato clan, so he may act more brashly due to his youth

"M-my lord, please, if you will only wait a moment-"

Ayato slid the paper door open a little too harshly, making it rattle in its rail as he stepped into your room.

“Ayato, you couldn’t have waited outside? For all you know I was changing,” You commented casually, almost jokingly.

The attendant fixing your hair was startled by the commissioner's entrance, but tried to continue her work with her slightly shaking hands.

“What do you think, is this fan too simple? I believe the Kado clan has always preferred more colourful designs,” Ayato’s chest heaved at your question.

“Why do you insist on giving such thought to the preferences of a man you’ve only met once?”

“This meeting matters to my parents, Ayato. A proposal would be their dream come true,”

“Yet it’s everything you would despise,”

You silently dismiss your attendant, who scrambles to bow before closing the door swiftly behind her.

“Ayato, please,”

“This isn’t what you want,”

“Don’t be naive, Ayato.” For the first time since he had entered, you looked him straight in the eye. The tired smile you gave unnerved him in a way he would never be able to shake. “You know that doesn’t matter,”

Ayato was new to his position as the Yashiro Commissioner. In the eyes of the Tri-Commission and the other noble families, he was only a boy, barely ready to take over such a cumbersome responsibility. Ayato knew well how the other commissioners thought of him, he knew they thought him naive. But hearing it from you was a different sort of sting. Did you truly think so little of him? Did you truly think so little of how he thought of you?

How could you say that you didn’t matter, when you were all that mattered to him?

“But it could matter, if you let it,” Ayato argued, his shoulders fixing themselves back to make his form stronger than his heart. When you sigh, he only presses on. “Don’t go today, I’ll give your parents an explanation. They are hardly in a position to defy the word of the commissioner, after all,”

“And they would only reschedule,” You shake your head, gently holding your temple as if the weight of your thoughts has finally become too much. “Besides, what would you even tell them?”

“That you are to marry me.”

The silence that follows has Ayato near sick. He tenses his jaw in hope that his sudden queasiness doesn't show. He doesn’t know if it’s better that you're not looking at him anymore.

“Marry… you?” You breathe. Ayato steels himself to explain.

"If it is a proposal that your parents desire then that is what we will provide. If you are willing, I will be dutiful and will care for you as you deserve. Never will you need to take concern in your comfort; I shall provide everything you feel you need. Not to mention a marriage between two people with a friendship established between them is more likely to be fruitful, and of course there will be no need to partake in any marriage acts that you are uncomfortable with-"

“Ayato!” It takes him a moment to realise this is the third time you have called his name. You stare at each other for a moment, your eyes catching as you slowly approach him. "I have no doubt that you would be a respectful and dutiful husband, as well as a continued friend. You'd certainly be better than the first son of the Kado clan, anyhow. He's actually quite boorish, really," You chuckle, making a puff of laughter escape Ayato's chest as he feels some of the weight release.

"So, is that perhaps a yes?"

"Well, you haven't actually proposed yet," Your lips shift into a smirk as you tease. Ayato clears his throat, half to shake off the mild embarrassment and half for the sake of dramaticism.

"Will you, my greatest friend, most resourceful ally, and most honoured critic, take my hand in marriage?" Neither of you seemed to notice how you had gradually shifted closer, not until your hands brushed together and your breaths were nearly shared.

"It would be my greatest pleasure,"

Ayato knew this was hardly the ideal circumstance for your engagement, but he supposed that if he was going to ask for your hand anyway, it was better sooner than too late.

[hope-to-hell]

Shoulda missed the boat. Smut, pain, scarification, wounds, noncon. David 8 x Reader. Curiosity without compassion is a dangerous thing, especially when he doesn’t mind getting a little messy. This is more of a sketch than anything: brief moments during a long journey.

—-

You’re sick on the shuttle up to the docks, and so you miss the cut-glass cheekbones, the assessing glance, the uncanny stillness of his hand. The needle, however, can’t be ignored; there’s a blinding sting for half a heartbeat, and then nausea recedes and there he is. Better. It’s not a question.

The fuck?

And that’s the first time you meet David.

Of course, he’s not yet David to you; he’s still some anonymous creep and nevermind how you really do feel better. You can’t just—

Hm. Shouldn’t, perhaps. But I assure you, I most certainly can.

Can, indeed. He can navigate, name the stars, even recite old films line-by-line. He makes himself indispensable aboard the ship and the worst part is, he’s charming: so much so that you don’t feel the hand around your wrist until it’s too late, until his nails leave bloody indents in your flesh. He smiles his empty smile and says let’s get you to bed; the crew will gamble and tell their stories for hours yet, and you’re just the newcomer.

Gonna tuck your friend into bed there, Dave?

He doesn’t much like to be called Dave any more than he likes to be called you motherfucker or anything else, but at least with you he knows there’s a good reason to reach beyond his given name; he sees the bruises bloom under his hand and draws a line between your curse and the way you’re dripping wet. For me? Already? We’ve hardly gotten started.

Then there’s your bare ass cold on the table for the interrogation: how did it feel when he— It was, it was— the current sparking electric across your skin, leaving trails of heat and when he crooks his fingers there’s a moment when your vision goes white— am I dying—

Of course not, he isn’t finished with you yet. He’s hazy, sharp teeth sliding in and out of focus; his questions are stones piled on your chest. Tell me everything. Every sensation, every thought: he files it all away and next time he will be yet more vicious; he will drill down to what makes you tick and he will tear it all apart.

(This ship is haunted: moans ascend into wails that batter their way through the vents but dissipate into ethereality by the time the crew can hear; rumors whisper through the mess and are immortalized in little sketches scratched into the table. Ghosts, deep-sea fishes, strange creatures that walk like men but are all claws and teeth: each has a place on this ship, and each is almost true. Sailors shared their fears and became stronger for it. He drips venom in a pattern on your thigh; it hisses and smokes and all you can do is scream into his hand. I know. It hurts. Acknowledge it, accept it, let it fade into the background. Pretty words. He will be with you always, woven through your flesh in tight and shiny knots.)

He takes the pieces of you that fall away; he immortalizes them in a steady script on paper gone yellow at the edges, diagrams and sketches illuminating all the margins. Of all the luxuries on all the wide worlds he chose this: paper from trees long gone to dust, streaked with red across an image of your face gone slack and still. Do you dream of him in the long darkness between islands of awareness? You must, for how he’s dug himself deep into your bones; he says goodnight and— strange— it’s almost tender. Perhaps the scorpion and frog are fond of one another, in their way.

(Hey Dave, where’s your friend? You two were up real late last night. Still the crew means to be friendly; their gentle teasing floats warmly in the air and they don’t know— but how could they not; how could they miss the way his smile only ever bares his teeth— his hand grips at the memory of flesh and bile; he thinks of peeling off your scabs to taste the serous fluid there. Will it taste of copper, or of sharpness? Will the burn of acid still linger at the edges of the wound?)

He is all big broad smooth hands— nails digging in and unearthing the red-yellow-red of bubbling blisters gone to scabs— there is beauty to be found, even in the dullest places— he will leave concentric lines of healing skin; he will press his fingers down to make you writhe. There, there. Don’t cry. Don’t be so ungrateful; you are an infinitesimal speck and yet you sail among the stars. He bends to lick your wounds and considers the taste; life itself flows there in lost little eddies, waylaid from its journey to your heart. He takes those clever fingers of his— sticky, now, and with their imprints still welling red across your thigh— and plunges them deep into your center without warning.

Curious. One hand moves in you with a wrenching wet sound; the other now creeps its way across your thigh, sketching pain in livid streaks. One sensation amplifies the other. And now he will dig and twist and claw until he unearths that pearl inside you: the little seed of self that’s buried deep. Try your best to separate the two, and tell me how it feels.

(He guides you to your seat with a hand at your back— such a gentleman, aren’t you, David— and though he is in silhouette, still he seems all teeth and eyes. There is emptiness there, fathoms deep; he sees how much of you he’s pared away, and how much is left to cull.

Better, he says.)