#AND IN NO WAY was this on purpose like They are Just Names

[soapcloth]

Filthy Dog

MMA au -> pro!Soap x PR team!reader

Series CW: 18+ MDNI, possessive behaviour, spitplay, oral oneshot - 2K words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

“-I'LL HAVE YER’ HEAD ON A STICK!”

You heard him before you saw him- the blur of a man who was truly more bull than human, and the scraping of chairs. Another headache for you. 

You knew this was coming, you knew he wouldn't be happy with this sponsor. You tried to warn them.

“Johnny.” Soap’s manager, Mitch, tried to reason, eyes widening when the fighter’s massive wrapped hands flexed around his freshly-pressed white button down, untucking the bottom from his pants in the process. “-John.” he corrected, coughing awkwardly. When Soap snarled at him, Mitch looked to you with that ‘help clean this mess up’ look.

“No.” Soap bit, jamming a blunt finger into the man’s chest before you could respond to his plea. “This is yer’ problem.”

“We don’t have a problem.” Mitch assured. “Talk to me John, what's up?” 

Soap’s eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring. “Ye’ know damn well. Told you I'd sooner quit than work with Max Energy.”

Mitch’s lips pursed, You were unsure what he expected as the outcome of his greed- probably that he would be able to talk his way out of it. “I don’t remember you saying that." he scoffed. "Come on now, Max is great, don't blow this out of-”

Soap growled in frustration, his fist careening into the folding table beside him; a deadly weapon- a warning shot. 

“Tell me, Mitch- why was I-” he snatched the cloth hanging out the pocket of his sweatpants and pushed it into the wiry man’s chest. “-just handed shorts with Max Energy big and bold ‘cross my fucking bits?” 

he leaned in, jaw tense. “Ah’m a joke to ye’? I’ll quit right here, right now.” 

Mitch called your name like he was summoning a maid and you could only sigh in response. “Soap-” “You say one more word for him and ah’ll knock his fucking teeth in.” he warned, not even turning to look in your direction. Your mouth closed, locked tight. 

“John, you quit and all those paying fans out there waiting for you will make sure you never get another damn title again.” Mitch threatened. “They’re not here for some still wet-behind-the-ears openers. They’re sure as shit not here for Kozlov.” he laughed sardonically. “They’re here for you. Don’t ruin this.” ‘-for me’ he seemed to leave out.

You couldn’t help but wonder if Mitch was doing this on purpose, or if he was just flat out stupid.

A deep, rumbling noise echoed around the depths of Soap’s expansive chest, lips curling back like a dog. “I do this fight- then I’m done, Mitch.” Mitch beamed, seemingly only hearing the confirmation he’d be fighting tonight. “-Not for yer’ sorry ass and not for those Max Energy bastards either. For the fans.” Soap grit out.

You could see the gears inside the manager’s head turning as he processed the financial hit he would inevitably take if his golden boy were to leave. “John-” Mitch practically whined.

 “Not up for debate.” Soap snapped, shooting him a venomous look- and like a tornado on a storm path, he chucked the shorts in the bin and left, dipping back into his locker room.

Mitch sighed, rubbing at his temples before setting his eyes on you.

“Do something. You’re Personal Relations- go relate personally.” Mitch snapped at you as he began digging into the trash to retrieve the shorts.

“Public Relations.” you corrected, earning a frustrated hiss and a dismissive hand wave. 

“Don’t change the subject. Get in there.”

You grimaced. “He’ll kill me!” 

“Don't be dramatic and hurry up, he's on soon.” Mitch urged, shooing you off. You made a sour face, heaving yourself up off the padded bench before Mitch could find something else to complain about. “-Wait.” Mitch ordered, as if he was telling a dog to heel. “-Second thought," he hummed "scratch that, let him be pissed for the fight. It’ll do numbers.”

-

Loathe as you were to admit, Mitch was correct- all three rounds had been polished off like they were light meals. You were next, surely. Your knee bounced anxiously as you awaited the full oncoming force of Soap’s post-cage high. “Fantastic! MacTavish v Kozlov-” Mitch barked out a laugh. “What a joke Kozlov was, does his team think it's amateur hour?” 

“Mitch.” you interrupted, knee falling still. “This isn’t really time for celebrations, you're about to lose your current biggest fighter.” He mowed you down with an eye roll “John just needs time to come to his senses, Max Energy contracts like this are once in a lifetime.”

“He’s not-”

The Locker room door nearly flew off its hinges, a beast coated in sweat and blood emerging. “John!” Mitch grinned with outstretched arms that faltered as the big man stormed straight past him.

God. Good god. He was hurtling towards you. Avert your gaze downwards, you coached yourself, you wouldn’t sit well in the stomach of a dog like him. 

Bare feet stopped before you. “You.” he chuffed out around the rubber guard in his mouth, drawing your gaze upwards. “Let’s go.” You looked around, not fully processing the situation. Mitch regained his composure. “Y-yes! Go talk with John.” he urged, desperately latching on to any inch of leeway Soap would give. “Get the fuck out, Mitch.” Soap barked, voice distorted by the EVA covering his teeth.”’Fore I rip yer’ head clean off.”

“R-right! We’ll talk later.” he laughed out nervously and tucked tail as Soap stared you down through the eyes of a starving street dog; getting the hell out of dodge. He kept his eyes on Soap as he left- a survival instinct not to show your back to a hungry predator.

”I tried to warn them about the Max deal.” you pressed once alone, hoping to avoid an argument. “Ah’know, bonnie.” he hummed lowly, a sweaty, gloved hand coming to graze your cheek. His sudden, loose tenderness came as a shock to your system. “Yer’ not like those vultures- Ye’ don’t see me as an asset.” His empty blue eyes relaxed, pupils dilating as his other hand raised to cradle the other side of your face, both thumbs brushing the corners of your lashlines. “Aye, Yer’ the good one. So patient with a daft bastard like me.” Your eyelids trembled slightly, his gaze zeroing in on the movement. “You want me like I want you?” 

Your eyes darted to your lap, urging Soap to tap at your cheek. “Eyes up- On me.” 

“You give the word and ah’ll treat you better than any man ever could. Ah’ll set ye’ right.” his voice dropped to a low boom. “Yer’ the only good thing ‘round me, have been since the moment we met.” You could still remember why you were hired. Soap was on the come up, but couldn't seem to figure out why getting into random scuffs with strangers over little annoyances was a bad thing. Especially for a man with a body that was essentially a lethal dose of muscle and bulk he had been specially trained in how to throw around. Possible fatal outcomes aside, it wasn't making him a man to root for. Every fight needed tension, but Soap wasn't a man built for pyrrhic victories- he was an underdog, biting and gnashing his way through cage after cage; man after man. He was meant to enjoy his hard-earned glory, and because of your work- MMA fans absolutely adored him. 

Soap huffed out, head tilting. “Y-yeah- yes, okay.” you whispered, trying not to psych yourself out. Your lips creased, head nodding before you could chicken out. 

Pulled into an blurred vortex, it took you an embarrassing amount of time to realize you were hiked over his shoulder as he lumbered towards his private locker room for the fight, locking the door behind him. Setting you gently on the luxurious industrial sink counter was his last mercy as he ripped off his gloves and clawed at your bottoms and underwear, yanking them off your legs. A freshly-bare and clammy hand braced itself under each thigh as he jacked your legs up and over his broad shoulders, a pleased grunt passing his lips. 

He lowered down before cursing and pushing your legs back up against your chest. 

You made a small noise, worried you had somehow fucked something up for him which earned you a growl and a headshake as he grunted and spat his mouthguard onto your tummy, sticky saliva coating your skin as it found its resting place before he dove back in, not caring where the plastic ended up. 

He pressed open-mouthed kisses at the apex of your thighs, sucking and biting at the skin like he was underfed and hungry. You whined as his teeth kept digging into the sensitive flesh, earning satisfied hums from the man in response, stubble not helping your case. You flexed, legs caging in his head which had seemed to guide him towards your waiting cunt.

The noises he emitted as he lapped at your folds made you feel nauseated and lightheaded, a blushing mess.

A shoulder jerked upwards to support your leg so he could explore the messy folds with a newly-unoccupied hand, but didnt pull his mouth back to give himself the space needed to do so; leaving you reeling at the feeling of such a concentrated area of stimulation.

As if sensing your limits, he bullied his way deeper, growling into your pussy in a way that left black spots at the corner of your vision.

Brutish fingers began to dip into the spot they had been searching for and you could feel his body tense and flex as he practically humped into the space beneath the counter, hips desperately chasing contact it wasn't receiving. He cursed against your flesh, mouth covered in drool and slick as he rose upwards, reminding you of a hulking behemoth as you were forced to accommodate the new position. He gazed down with hazy eyes and a glistening jaw as he focused on jamming whatever he could of his finger into your cunt, twitching and thrusting the digit inside you. As if the stretch wasnt enough to satisfy that itch in the back of his skull, he stuffed in his ring finger next to it, pinky and index bracing his hand as he fucked the fingers into you, transfixed. 

You were going to pass out at this rate, his knuckles, malformed from years of improper training and injury- kissed at your inner walls, sending you out of body. 

His lids lowered, pace easing as a thought passed his mind. He paused, stretching open the hole as his throat bobbed a few times. Your head clumsily lolled to the side just in time to watch a fat wad of spit drip from his mouth, directly into your slicked pussy. He smiled, happy with himself and savoring the sight for a moment before continuing his ministrations- slower this time, deeper. He angled his hand, thumb massaging at your clit just to see the way you would react. 

You didn't disappoint him, the sight of you causing his mouth to part, drool still hanging from his chin. “Fuuuck.” he breathed, drawing the word out. "-What a sight ye' are." His eyes darted back to your cunt, thick brows quirking as he experimentally ground his thumb deeper into your nub, urging a cry to push its way out of your lungs. His teeth glinted as he huffed out a small laugh. “Yer’ being so good to me too, huh?” he rumbled happily, eyes coasting along your stretched folds and it took you a moment to realize he wasn't talking to you. He pulled his fingers out slowly, scooping the mixed fluids up and popping them into his mouth. “Mmh-” he groaned, diving back in to gather more, this time digging deep. the movement finally pushed you over the edge. “Tha’s it.” he praised, dipping his head low to lap his mess beneath your flexing thighs.  -

You spent the following half hour under a steaming waterfall shower head with a looming mass tucked against your back, cleaning you up and rutting against you in random incriments- his skin surely emitting steam at a higher rate than the water. He bowed his head into your neck, bunting against you and inhaling the smell of his favourite body wash on your skin. “-Got an offer from 141 Athletics a bit ago, they could take care of it all for us, y'know.” he mumbled, pausing and dragging his nose along your nape. “Yer' coming-" he breathed out. “You work for me, not Mitch- You're coming with me.” you could feel his lips drag up in a sneer against your skin when the man's name left his mouth. In an attempt to comfort him, you tried to turn and face him, but thick arms stopped you, curling under your arms and around your chest, sneaking a feel before pulling you into him, the fatty layer coating his pecs molding against your back like a dream.

You nodded.

“Good.” he sighed.

[hwallazia]

OBSESSED – 최산

⋆ synopsis. just virgin! san eating u out for the first time <3

pairing. boyfriend! san & fem! reader.

wc. 0,5k

warnings. smut (mdni!), virgin & soft dom! san, masturbation (f! receiving), overstimulation, tongue fucking, cum eating, praise, dirty talk, cussing, nicknames (sannie, baby, good girl & more), san’s just utterly in love with reader <3

nic’s notes ⋆ it’s 4am & i’m ovulating y’all, forgive me ('''– ⌓ –)＝３

okay but virgin! san who’s more than ready to please you, eagerly lapping at your wet folds messily. he doesn’t quite know what he’s doing, he’s just using the sweet melody of your moans as his guide, a hint that you’re enjoying yourself. his tongue explores places he never knew existed, places that have now become his favorites. his fingers are everywhere, stroking every inch of skin he can, loving phalanges providing sweet touches on your hips as they drew unintelligible scribbles.

the muscles of his tongue feel the way your walls clench around it greedily, which only incites him to keep pushing it down, excited to stretch you fully.

on the other hand, you’re holding on to the messy sheets underneath you for dear life, fingers clamping around the soft fabric as your knuckles turn a pretty shade of white.

because you understand your boyfriend’s eagerness. but fucking hell, this is the fourth time you’ve come.

“g-god, sannie— stop, ’s too much—“

the moment you mutter the word “stop”, he buries the entire length of his skillful tongue inside your tight, gushing walls. and the way you clench around him immediately makes his eyes roll back. he successfully rips a cry out of you, your trembling hands dart towards his messy locks, driven by a single purpose: to grip them tightly whilst you come undone, completely helpless under him. he swirls his tongue around your sensitive, overstimulated clit as he helps you to ride your orgasm.

if he was in love with you before, he’s utterly consumed by you now.

“fuck baby i know ‘s too much—” he pulls away to speak, his raspy and growly voice sending the most delicious chills down your spine.

and shit. the way he’s staring at you is immaculate. brown intoxicated eyes, dilated from lust pierce into your soul like daggers as messy locks of hair fall gracefully over his lashes; all while a soft red blush strikes his cheekbones, belying the sinful scene. a clear, viscous string of your creamy fluids clings to the corner of his swollen lips.

the divine sight of him like this is going to be stuck in your head for a long time: between your legs, just done eating your pussy to the bone.

“but you’re taking it like such a good girl.” he deposits the gentlest kiss on your inner thigh, the feathery stroke of his lips over your sensitive skin tickling you a bit. “please just let me give ya another one. pretty please, baby.”

he begs. he fucking begs, with a tilted head and those undeniably beautiful doe eyes staring into your soul, only releasing the most primitive side of you.

and how can you ever deny him a treat?

“o-okay.” you whisper, almost embarrassed of your words; as if this whole situation wasn’t shameless enough. you aren’t sure how much more of what he was dishing out you could take, but san’s already set in his mind; he’s going to push you to your goddamn limits. because eating your pussy is now his addiction and obsession. and if that means doing it until the only sound escaping your lips are silent cries and his name, then he’s more than happy to comply.

“that’s my princess.”

| masterlist

[noxcorvorum]

First of all, I LOVE the way you've depicted John, with how tall he is and also that he's kindof just a cloak encompassing Arthur, the slight way he's wrapped around him is SO GOOD and the way the fabric drapes from his head over Arthur's is incredible, this is HIS HUMAN GODDAMNIT!!!

And that John is easily the brightest thing in the picture, he is part of a god that isn't supposed to be here and he Sticks Out

I also love the marks on the wall behind them, with the black tendrils behind John, the glowing eyes and crown by Jon, and the muted fog behind Martin

And imagine being Jon in this situation: he almost looks like he's stuck here on this makeshift altar playing at apocalypse google; he's got short sleeves and long hair and no shoes and Martin can leave all he wants, can come and go freely but chooses over and over to come back to him, to sit at his back as both a facade of protection, pointlessly watching the back of a man who sees all, and a supportive strength, lending warmth as his boyfriend converses with the scraggly man with a strange glint of gold in his eyes.

He Knows when Arthur is brought here, of course he does, this is his job now, his purpose is to Know and See everything that goes on in this world. He Watches them walk up, and when the scraggly man reaches about twice as far away as a normal human could see, Jon Sees a nauseating shimmer of yellow around him and eyes that are taken over by gold and black.

By the time they reach the door, Jon has been looking upon the visage of a foreign god for quite a while now.

He closes his eyes. More blink open across his skin. He is Argus, hundred-eyed, ever-watchful, bound in service to a god.

Arthur Lester enters, muttering to hi- well. Muttering to the god in his head and wrapped around his bones. The yellow-cloaked figure dogging his steps responds in a voice that tugs at Jon's mind.

He catches his own name in the whispers, and the Eye informs him the piece of the King has named himself John Doe. What irony.

He curls up, reaching a hand back to Martin's leg as if for reassurance, and Arthur leans on the altar before him. He is scarred, heavily so, but the Eye will not look between the shifting robes to tell him whether his marks number more than Jon's. Even the little bit he can see of the figure beneath the swirling yellow twists at him.

Martin sips his tea. Jon Knows he can't see just how strange the man before them really is.

Arthur wants to know how to leave. Jon does too.

something, something, Arthur and John got teleported to the eyepocalypse and was asking around to find a way back when they were recommended to visit the local ‘google’(whatever that means) guy and his plus one.

[antivancathedral]

I don't even know how to word this in a way that makes sense and I think in an overall world building sense this is a major case of "Man I think it depends" but I actually don't think Spite is a "demon".

Spirits and Demons are essentially the same, yes, and I think there's much to be said about this in in parallel to a healthy person vs a deeply traumatized person, but to quote Neve, "one is more likely to manipulate you, or kill you," etc etc.

A demon is a spirit whose purpose has been twisted. And I don't think Spite's purpose has been twisted much at all.

Determination's purpose is "accomplish my goal (whatever that may be)". Spite (the emotion)'s purpose is exactly the same, with the added benefit of "especially against the wishes of others".

I think the demonic version of Determination would be "Ruthlessness", not Spite.

Spite (the guy) is not wholly consumed by his purpose like other "demons" are. He doesn't pursue his goals at the expense of his companions. He has several other interests even if they seem a little silly (learning what tastes good, or even new forms of combat like fire). And he tells us his purpose several times...it's his promise with Lucanis! Escape, kill, and live! This goal is one of determination and it has not changed by his becoming Spite. The goal is not warped in any way even with his joining to Lucanis.

Bellara speculates as to why Spite doesn't just take Lucanis over or turn him into a nasty mound of flesh. I want to argue that this is because Spite is a named spirit, not a demon.

What's more spiteful than not allowing your captors to change you? What says fuck you to people who would use you as a tool than self-determination? What's more spiteful than being determined to be free, to fight who would enslave you, to live?

My working theory is that Spite is not a demon in the same sense as, say, Wisdom being corrupted into Pride, which twists a desire to guide, teach, or navigate situations with care into a desire to be right and unchallenged.

I think Spite is to Determination as Eulogy is to Compassion.

[casually-eat-my-soul]

I was tagged by the very lovely @demonicfaerie so here is an angry stiles blurb that I dont exactly know what to do with but that I really wanted to get the idea down.

This is based on my headcannon that stiles and Jackson actually have know each other the longest. And that Jackson is the only other person who knows stiles real name.

The pack makes jokes about Stiles, saying that he never really gets angry, sure he gets defensive but never angry. Until the day Jackson calls Stiles by his name.

After the whole kanima disaster, Derek moves forward trying to connect to his betas. Including Jackson. Especially since now that he is a werewolf which shifts the dynamics because technically he’s now Derek’s first beta.

One afternoon during pack training when tensions were raising higher than usual. The pack had devolved into using grunt and growls as form of communication. Snarling with a little to much teeth.

So Stiles, in Stiles fashion begins making sarcastic remarks to try and settle the situation. After Jackson take a hard tumble with fighting Derek, Stiles quips about Jackson still being a fake werewolf. Especially after spending so much time in lizard scales.

Jackson spits blood from his mouth, turns to him, anger rolling in his chest. A self satisfied smirk forming as the words drip from this lips. — you would know all about fake identities, wouldn’t you Mieczyslaw.” — Stiles goes deathly still and the air shifts. Like the moment before lighting strikes.

The pack is immediately on edge. Derek makes his way towards stiles. The hair on the back on his neck standing up, putting his arms out as if he’s trying to calm down a wild animal. The way Stiles chest heaves with exertion like a cornered, feral animal. Derek knows what it’s like to watch a predator prepare to strike.

Derek swears he doesn’t see Stiles move. One second Stiles was standing on his porch steps, body tense like a spring coil about to snap. In the next second Jackson is on the ground with Stiles on top of him and the smell of blood in the air.

Lydia is shrieking for Stiles to get off Jackson. The betas step backwards from the carnage. They want to help but all their instincts are begging them to flee.

And Stiles is screaming, between the sounds of fist hitting flesh, — you don’t get to call me that — Stiles is screaming — I’ll rip your tongue from your fucking mouth. — stiles keeps hitting Jackson — That name belonged to my mother — just repeating over and over again. Stiles is screaming.

It takes Derek and Boyd to pull him off Jackson, even so he fights against their hold. It was surprising to the werewolves, the fact that they were struggling. Stiles was going rabid between them, still screaming — let me go, I’m going to rip his throat out with my teeth — and Jackson was still on the ground, not healing, covered in blood.

Derek barks out and order to get Jackson to Deaton or Melissa or both as fast as possible. Boyd slowly releases Stiles just in case he’s needed to grab him again. The minute the hold on him slacks fighting is throwing himself towards Jackson again. Derek barely catches him.

While the betas clear out, Derek throws stiles over his shoulder. Stiles still fighting against his hold. It’s only as Derek steps into his bedroom and sets Stiles on his bed, does he calm down. It’s like all the fight drains from his body.

Instead panic takes its place. Stiles fights to breathe with the same vengeance as he did Jackson. Clumps of broken sentences echo out between his sobs — not his, not his, nothis, nothisnothisnothisno — the more panicked he gets, the faster it comes out.

Derek holds him until the panic subsides and a there nothing left but silence.

The pack doesn’t mention Stiles’ breakdown the next day, or the next. And Stiles likes pretends like nothing happened. Everyone else would to, except for the fact that Jackson is barely healing, healing slower than a healthy human would. Stiles smile is a tad bit to tight and the pack is a tad bit too cautious of him.

They also don’t mention the fact that the bruises only go away after Jackson apologizes. Even so they don’t really make jokes anymore.

[graveyardhorror]

౨ৎ ARCANE VI dating!headcanons

misc. masterlist

-though she's a natural charmer and can make any woman weak in the knees, she is actually pretty shy when you get to know her; her weakness is when you initiate any form of affection, her brain malfunctions when you flirt with her lol

-likes when you watch her when she's exercising or boxing, it makes her feel more confident and determined to put on a nice show for your viewing pleasure

-the biggest cuddler! once she's comfortable enough around you to be touchy she won't ever want to let you go, prefers being the little spoon while sleeping but doesn't mind being the big spoon too

-greets you with a tight hug where you can just feel the her love for you with the way she squeezes you in her arms, always has some form of compliment or cheeky comment to send your way

-tracing your fingers over her tattoos and running your fingers along her scalp/hair never fail to make her sleep like a baby, she gets the best rest when you do this even if she'll never admit it you can tell by the serene look on her face and the gentle smile on her lips

-if you ever need someone to talk to or just rant about anything, she's your girl! the best listener and surprisingly good at giving advice, a natural problem solver

-has an insanely long list of sweet pet names for you, she never seems to run out of nicknames and don't even get me started on the voice she says them with; sweetcheeks, cupcake, sugar, baby, angel, peach, doll, etc.

-says she doesn't treat you differently from others but the difference is so obvious lol, she doesn't even do it on purpose it's just something that she does unconsciously

dividers by mikeykuns

[jasvtsc]

blood.

it was everywhere.

a crimson stream descending every crevice in once pearly white tiles.

when dean entered the bathroom it looked like a tornado just passed through it — the mirror was shattered, pieces of glass in the sink, some stained with blood scattered all over the floor. water was still running, the colour now red instead of being transparent, overfilling the bathtub as steam clouded in the air, making his vision blurry and his lungs burn as he struggled to breathe.

he almost couldn’t see at first.

he almost missed the sight of his sweet angel.

his sweet darling now dead.

at first, he didn’t believe it — she was an angel for fuck’s sake. a heavenly being thousands and thousands of years old that couldn’t be killed this easily.

but then, with each shallow breath he took and each rapid beat of his heart, he slowly walked closer, his hands shaking and tears welling up in his eyes when every passing second filled with silence only made the realisation settle in. the harsh reality that someone—or something—had hurt his beloved birdie.

“no, no, no, no—” would leave his mouth like some sickening mantra that would possibly bring her back.

with a pained groan, he fell to his knees, gently cradling her face, his calloused thumbs stroking her cheeks oh so softly. his lip trembled as he tried swallowing an aching lump formed in his throat, his grief piling up in his chest as if millions of tiny needles were poking at it, trying to get to his now shattered heart.

his sweet angel was dead.

she was murdered in cold blood.

and he wasn’t there to protect her. he wasn’t there when she needed him the most.

“no, birdie—” he rasped out desperately, choked sobs leaving his mouth as he carefully placed a kiss on her pale face. slowly, he made sure to kiss every freckle, every part of her perfect skin, now so fair and cold under his touch.

he turned the water off and cradled her lifeless body, his arms wrapping around her as he pulled her in. he rested her head on his chest and completely broke down the moment that he buried his face in her hair — it still had that sweet scent he was intoxicated with — like freshly picked forget-me-nots from the field they first met at. the same scent that engraved his way into his brain ever since he found her in that meadow.

dean completely broke down.

he didn’t try to control his tears anymore and let them fall freely down his face. he cried loudly for the first time in his life, his whole body shaking uncontrollably as sadness and pain completely overwhelmed him.

he ran his fingers through her damp hair, careful not to tug on them too hard even though it didn’t matter anymore. she couldn’t feel it, she would never feel his touch again. he would never feel her touch anymore, he would never feel her small fingers running up and down his neck in that soothing manner when he rested his head on her chest.

he would never hear her heartbeat again.

it gnawed at him, making the hole in his heart bigger, when he realised that he would never hear her laugh again. he would never hear her sweet voice calling his name ever again, and the silence filling the room only seemed as a harsh reminder of the truth in front of him.

his birdie was dead.

letting go of her lifeless body, he stood up, taking a shuddering breath as he moved his hands to his head, tugging at his short hair in frustration. a pained whimper escaped him as he looked around the bathroom, the mess that whoever got in here had caused. 

her blood was everywhere.

whoever did that, made sure to be especially cruel.

only then did he spot a crimson-red writing on the wall right next to the mirror.

“payback, winchester”

whoever did that was onto him — the only purpose of killing his sweet angel was revenge.

it was his fault.

someone hurt you only to get back at him and he wasn’t even there to prevent it.

scream full of pain and grief escaped his throat, leaving a nasty feeling of his vocal cords straining as he let out his emotions. he screamed in anger that filled his body as he gasped for air, taking another look at his angel, her empty eyes once full of life and curiosity, now looking at him as a mocking reminder of what he had lost. of what he had done.

he killed his sweet birdie.

and that thought would hunt him for the rest of his meaningless life.

that he had made his birdie a fallen angel.

[satsugacafe]

𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐈𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐎𝐧𝐞 | (𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞)

➳❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Yhwach & Jugram, Askin & Bazz-B, Kisuke & Sosuke, Shunsui and Jushiro

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: I wrote a little more for Shunsui and Jushiro, but I doubt you all would mind. I was originally going to scrap it and turn their part into a full piece…another time. Have a nice smut for the holidays!

➳❥ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fem!reader, smut, double penetration (vag and anal), spit roasting, oral sex (male receiving), rough sex, manhandling, degradation (being called a slut and cum dumpster), asphyxiation, spanking, reader being used for pleasure purposes, pet names (little one, good girl, sweetheart, sweet girl, princess), praising, squirting, creaming, marathon sex, mentions of multiple orgasms

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: Just you having threesomes with different character pairings.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

「 Yhwach & Jugram 」

Yhwach stood in front of you, his cock fully erect and gleaming with your saliva. He pressed it against your lips with no pretense of gentleness, his movements slow but deliberate as he slid it into your mouth. His size stretched your lips wide, the veins along his shaft throbbing against your tongue as you struggled to take him deeper. His hand rested firmly on the back of your head, fingers curling into your hair as he held you in place.

“Look at how well you take the both of us…so pretty,” Yhwach grunted as he thrust his cock in and out your mouth, pushing himself deeper until your nose was pressed against the base of his cock. Holding his position for a few extra seconds, he pulled out and rest the tip of his thick cock against your cheek while you gasped for air. Strings of saliva connected his cock to your lips as you wheezed, doing your best to catch your breath.

However, on the other end, an equal yet opposite force was turning your insides into goo from the constant rough pounding of his cock battering against your walls. Both hands gripping your waist as Jugram guided you along his cock, creating a rhythm so you could match his pace as he plunged his pretty cock deeper with every thrust. You could feel the heavy pat-pat of his balls colliding with your clit each time he pushed himself all the way to the hilt. Your natural reaction was to clench around him, however, it was cut short when Yhwach cupped your cheeks to look up at him.

Your glossy eyes met his red ones, and for a moment, they crossed and rolled into your head when Jugram’s fingers came down to rub your clit. Pinching and teasing the swollen bundle of nerves. “Oh f-fuck! Nghh…god! Right there!” A squeal escaped your lips but was swallowed and turned into a muffled groan when Yhwach pushed his cock past your lips.

“Keep sucking, little one,” Yhwach growled. His tone was sharp, a commanding edge laced with condescension. “Show me how grateful you are to serve us.”

Both of them were in sync as Yhwach matched Jugram’s pace. As Yhwach pushed his cock down your throat, Jugram would pull out, so you were never empty at the same time. Muffled gurgling and moaning, along with the sounds of sweaty skin meeting and praises of how good you were taking their cock like the obedient pet you were, reverberated throughout the room. 

“Just like that…good girl,” Yhwach cooed as he slowed his thrust, taking his time to push himself to the back of your throat before pulling out. “So pretty taking two cocks at the same time. You like that, don’t you? You were made for this.”

“Y-Yes, my king. Please use me to your heart’s desire,” you begged and opened your mouth for his cock to return, tongue sticking out the way he liked.

A satisfying grunt was his response, while Jugram leaned forward, resting his lips by your ear to kiss your lobe and give it a bite. “Such a slut for His Majesty’s cock and mine. You would do well to remember this moment and be grateful,” he muttered before dragging his lips down to the junction of your neck to plant a hickey.

“So tight, so perfect. You were made for this.” His deep, sultry voice was doing more chaos to your mind than you expected. You could feel the way your pussy clenched at every word, oozing more juices to coat his already cum-covered cock, and squeezing him nicely. Sucking him back in to keep hitting that spot repetitively, making your toes curl and your back arch into his touch.

“You’re such a good little thing.”

「 Askin & Bazz-B 」

“Goddamn,” Askin groaned breathlessly, though there was a tinge of amusement. “How does someone this powerful end up with a body like this? It’s criminal, really. You’re gonna kill me in the best way possible. God, you should have come with a warning.”

“Maybe you just don’t have the stamina,” you teased, looking down at him with a smirk. Your voice was playful, but the way your body responded to him betrayed how much you were enjoying his complaints.

“Oh, I have the stamina,” Askin shot back, his grin widening despite the way his jaw clenched from the tight, velvety grip of your walls. “But you—” He groaned as your pussy squeezed him particularly hard, cutting off his words. “You’re built to drive a man insane.”

“Shut up and focus,” Bazz-B growled from behind you, his deep voice straining as his thick, heated cock thrust into your tight ass with relentless want. The force of his movements matched Askin’s erratic rhythm. His fingers were spread over the curve of your lower back as he pulled you back onto him with each thrust, burying himself deeper into the tightness that squeezed him like a vice.

Your body was trapped between them, utterly consumed by the pleasure they were giving you. Every thrust sent waves through you, your moans and cries of pleasure mingling with their grunts and groans. Askin’s cock, slick with your juices and the remnants of his previous releases, stretched your pussy, the friction drove you wild as he pounded into you from underneath. Bazz-B’s cock was just as relentless, filling your ass with an almost overwhelming fullness, his pace rough and demanding as he claimed you.

“You’re fucking insane,” Bazz-B hissed as your pussy clenched around Askin’s cock, leaning to his cock being squeezed as well. “We’re screwing a Shinigami, Askin. Do you even get how messed up this is?”

“You weren’t complaining five minutes ago,” shot back Askin breathlessly from the way your pussy seemed to endlessly suck him back in. You were too much for him to handle. “Besides, it proper to welcome our guest His Majesty spared out of interest. This could be one of the reasons why he spared her—we’re lucky to get first use.”

“Oh, just shut up and fuck me harder,” you moaned.

Askin chuckled under you, his hands sliding up to your chest to give your breasts a squeeze before rolling your nipples between his fingers. “As you wish, darling,” he grinned and gave a particularly harsh thrust and forced your head to fling backwards, colliding against Bazz-B’s shoulder. The rhythm between the three of you became more synchronised, their cocks moving in perfect motion, filling you up completely and leaving you gasping for air.

Your pussy clenched around Askin’s cock, the creamy mixture of his cum and your own juices making every thrust slick and easy as he drove deeper, hitting spots that made your entire body shudder. Bazz-B’s cock stretched your ass, the thickness of him almost too much to handle, but the way he filled you was addictively good, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure through you. A hand from him came down to slap your ass, in awe of the recoil and the way it jiggled under his touch.

“Fuck, you’re gonna milk me dry. Your pussy’s too fucking good,” Askin groaned and tossed his head back as your body trembled, teetering on the edge of release. Both their movements grew rougher, more desperate and unrelenting as they chased their orgasms. “I don’t think we could be normal after this. Fuck being a Shinigami, you’ve got to new bodyguards.”

“So much for being Yhwach’s guest—the old man is gonna have to pardon us for taking over if this was his purpose for sparing you,” Bazz-B grunted. “You’re one hell of a distraction, but I’m not complaining.”

“Then don’t hold back,” you breathlessly gasped as you rocked your hips to meet their thrusts. “Fill me up. I want every last drop if I’m going to be stuck here.”

「 Kisuke & Aizen 」

“Just look at her,” Aizen murmured, his voice smooth and condescending. “She takes it so well, doesn’t she, Kisuke? Absolutely desperate to be filled over and over again.”

“She’s a little too good at it,” Kisuke replied, stroking his already-hard cock, still slick with the remnants of your earlier encounter. “It’s almost like she was made for this.”

Your body was in a constant tug-of-war between two powerful masterminds as they manipulated you to their will. You weren’t sure how many positions they had experimented on you, but you were sure that it was far from finished from the glimpses of determination in their eyes.

The strength of Sosuke’s grip around your neck as he pressed your face into the mattress, ploughing into you from behind, left no room for argument. You had to lie there and take his cock as it bullied your insides for the umpteenth time tonight, rearranging you to outdo the renovation that Kisuke’s cock did earlier. You could feel the sheer force of your gummy walls gripping him with abandon want, sucking him back in deeper each time he slid out before his hips harshly collided with your ass.

Sosuke’s fingers were on your clit as he drew strategic patterns to make you sob and drool all over yourself, your out-of-state transcend was cut short by Kisuke’s gentle hands cupping your face to lift your head off the mattress.

“Atta girl. Come on now, open those lips for me. Take me all the way, don’t waste a drop,” he encouraged, and who were you to deny him his request. Obediently, your lips parted, and his cock rested heavily against your tongue, the salty-sweet taste of his precum sent goosebumps down your spine, urging you to clench around Sosuke’s cock.

“You spoil her too much, Kisuke.” Came Sosuke’s voice as he sent a particularly rough thrust to make your jaw slacken around Kisuke’s cock. His grip around your neck was still present, firm but not aggressive as he continued to let the rhythm of his hips send more shivers through your body as you struggled to focus on their cocks. Kisuke being as calm as he was, ignored Sosuke’s comment and simply cupped your jaw to guide your head along his cock, groaning at the warmth.

But Kisuke was anything but gentle in these past hours he’s been fucking you. This was just the warm-up before his grip on your jaw tightened before he held your head still and punish your throat with his cock. Aizen’s thrusts grew rougher, more erratic as if competing for your attention. The force of his hips drove you forward, causing Kisuke’s cock to push deeper into your throat, the sensation making your eyes water. You gagged slightly, the sound muffled around Kisuke’s girth, but he only smirked, holding your head firmly in place.

Balls slapping against your skin, the sounds of your wet, slick pussy squelching against Sosuke’s cock and their derogatory praises filled the air. Tears were streaming down your face from the sheer, overwhelming intensity of being filled in every way. You would feel Sosuke and Kisuke’s cum sloshing around in your pussy as the former pushed it deeper, some spilling out and coating his cock. The heady sensation of a cock being pushed down your throat at a blinding speed while sweet words were being whispered to encourage you to take more, was diabolical.

“You look so pretty like this,” Kisuke praised breathlessly as your throat constricted around him. “Letting us use you to experiment and have fun. You like being filled with our cum, don’t you? Our little cum dumpster…”

A particular slap to your ass from Sosuke and the tightening of his fingers against your neck, applying just enough pressure to earn muffled whines and your pussy clenching made him laugh. “Indeed. Perfect little cum dumpster—of course she enjoys it,” he stated confidently. “Don’t you sweetheart?”

Looking up at Kisuke through teary eyes, you nodded and whined a small ‘yes’ before he pulled his cock from your mouth, leaving a sputtering and wheezing mess. “Y-…Yes. Please…more. Please fill me up.”

“Who am I to deny this one request.” Grinned Sosuke as he changed his angle to focus his cock directly against your sweet spot, each thrust punishing that one spot over and over as you lay, pinned under him, trembling.  “Now be a good girl and cum for us.”

「 Shunsui and Jushiro 」

Squealing at the sudden spray of your juices squirting out and soaking the futon beneath you, your sounds were turned into a gargle of short gasps when Shunsui adjusted his hold on your legs and shifted his hips to reangle his cock. The thickness of his cock plunging in and out your ass, with each new thrust, disappearing between the plush roundness of your cheeks, left you trembling against his chest. Your sweaty back against his equally sweaty chest while he held you open like some sacrificial orifice, his hands gripping the back of your thighs and curling them into your chest, keeping them widely spread for Jushiro to have just enough space to drive his cock deeper into your pussy.

Softer, yet lustful eyes, meet your hazy and drunken ones. The gentle green, now replaced by a viridian shade locked with yours as a sweet smile stretched across his flustered face. Easily he closed the gap between you two and met your lips in a steady, bruising kiss, swallowing all your moans as his and Shunsui’s cock created a rhythm, ensuring that you were never empty as other filled you. His tongue swept into your mouth to capture your tongue, while a curtain of white hair blocked out the surroundings as he pressed himself against you, wanting to mould his body into yours.

“You look beautiful, so perfect. Taking us so well,” Jushiro murmured against your lips while he pressed a little more weight into his thrusts, his hands aided Shunsui with keeping you spread enough for him to reach deeper. One hand released your thigh to reach out and cup your cheek, wiping a bead of sweat close to your eye. “You were made for me…for us.”

Your response was an automatic clench of your walls followed by another torrential of juices squirting out again, soaking his lower abdomen and thighs. There was an echoed groan from each of them as they slowed for a moment to enjoy the slight spasming of your walls planting tiny kisses along their length. It was as though you were naturally sucking them in deeper with each kiss, begging for them to never leave. They already fitted you like two perfect puzzle pieces, leaving you boneless with the rhythmic push and pull of their cocks.

But just as they slowed to savour the sensation, their tempo increased once they regained their focus, and the reverberations of squelching elicited lewd sounds in your ear. Each slide of their cock into your wet heat made your toes curl and vision blurred. Shunsui’s purposeful rolls of his hips, plunging his cock further into your ass as he brought you down on his cock sent Jushiro’s cock rubbing against your sweet spot, leaving you whimpering, on the verge of blanking out. You didn’t know how to function as the sensation was heady.

“Look at you…all greedy for more, aren’t you pretty girl?” Shunsui purred huskily while his lips grazed your earlobe, continuously rolling his hips expertly to match Jushiro’s tempo. While Shunui’s cock was thicker, designed to stretch you to your limits, Jushiro’s elegant shape was longer and curved to rub perfectly in areas where others couldn’t reach. “You’re making a mess all over us, squeezing us so tightly…feels like you’re about to cum again.”

“P-please…more,” you whimpered as you felt another wave approaching, the same time the delicious stretch of Shunsui’s cock left your ass clenching around him as his head nudged deep, pressing against that sensitive bundle of nerves. The sensation was overwhelming, the fullness pushing you to the brink as Jushiro’s cock ground in sync against the sweet spot inside your pussy, the friction driving you crazy. Your nails gripped Jushiro’s arms, raking down his limbs as pathetic whines and whimpers left your lips.

Before you knew it, another gush of juices squirted from your pussy again. Jushiro’s and Shunsui’s cocks glided effortlessly through the mess, the slick and lewd sounds ground louder as they began to chase their highs. Skin slapping against skin with the occasional stutter of their hips when your walls gave a particularly harsh clench around them, prompting a hiss or groan. Easily, Jushiro’s lips returned to yours while Shunsui’s trailed along your shoulder, adding to the hickeys already left. The combination wasn’t making things better.

“If you keep this up, gorgeous, you’ll milk us dry,” Shunsui quipped as he planted a kiss on the area he bit, soothing the sting. “But that’s what you want, isn’t it? You want us to fill you up till you’re all swollen and it’s dripping out, hmm?”

Unable to form a coherent response, you whined against Jushiro’s lips as he smiled at your reaction, feeling a sense of pride swelling in his chest that you craved them. You pulled away shortly to look down at the mess between your legs—a ring of cream gathered at the base of both their cocks. Jushiro, taking the opportunity, attached his lips to your other neck to kiss along the curve, whispering sweet nothings and praises of how well you were doing.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered in between kisses. “You feel so good, love. I don’t think I can get enough of you.”

Your hands travelled from his arms to his shoulders, pressing your nails into his skin leaving behind pretty moon crescents. Both their names tumbled from your lips in a series of breathless moans as your legs trembled and toes curled once more.

“Don’t worry, princess. We’ll give just that and more.” At the reassurance from Shunsui, his hand slipped from your thigh to reach for your clit, flicking it lightly and drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. “Just let it all out…give us everything.”

©satsugacafé 2024: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

[thelawfulchaotic]

Being a jerk to someone part of a different group (especially a morally judged group) is a grand old human tradition.

If violence is infliction of harm, the words you use to inflict harm on people are violent words.

Honestly, folks, consider removing the judgment words from your vocabulary. Not only are they violent, but they’re nonspecific and counterproductive — they invoke defensiveness and hurt.

“Cis guys suck”

vs

“I feel anger towards cis men, *because of* specific behavior x and y”

“Down with cis”

vs

“The people I work with have difficulty understanding gender identity and it often frustrates me because i want to be accepted/I want it just ignored/I find it triggering”

Okay these sentences are a lot longer, yes, much less efficient, but they put the attention where it needs to be: on SPECIFICS. If your friend bro hears you talking about how guys keep manspreading on the bus and hitting on you while you’re listening to music, he won’t be like “wow this is unpleasant for me”, he’ll be like “ah these are things I do not do because I am not an asshole and I know I am still accepted here.”

It also places emphasis on what you’re actually feeling and why you’re actually feeling it. Name! That! Emotion! Many people have trauma and issues recognizing what emotion they are feeling and practice helps; besides that, you’ll be able to focus on what the problem actually is, and maybe think up something specific for a solution. Want Kyle at work to stop making a big deal out of every pronoun? This is not the same problem as Steve now refusing to be in the same room alone with you now that you’ve come out.

And notice in none of these have I said judgment words like “unacceptable behavior” or “being the worst” or other ways to judge. This is not because I have no opinions. It’s because judgment interferes with communication. It’s a tactically nonviolent choice. If you come in thinking of someone as More Bad than you, you will behave in ways that show that judgment, on purpose or not. Even people who do bad things are people and usually have some way they’re reachable. It takes a toolbox that very few of us are taught.

It feels real good to judge people. Judgment and social punishment are reinforcing — to the punisher. You feel good while doing it, so you do it again. It becomes a habit. It becomes a dogma. It’s a trap. Punishment never works, and if it briefly accomplishes its intended purpose, it always comes with a thousand more negative effects down the line. Alienation of your non-in-group friends. Entrenchment in your social groups. Echo chambers. And the inability to make anyone listen to you about anything important.

However, if someone is not engaging with you in good faith, tell them what they’re doing that makes you feel that way, tell them how it makes you feel, and tell them you will not engage further until they come to the table for real. Not punishment, just ending the discussion without any uncertainty.

Hot take but I really do think that some of y’all need to consider how/why/when/how often you’re making fun of straight people for being straight

I do it too, I’m not going to pretend I don’t make jokes about the hets, or the down with cis bus, or whatever

But I recently befriended a cis, straight dude and I have watched him be dismissed, degraded, and unambiguously insulted for the perceived “crime” of being straight — all in queer environments where he is allegedly “completely welcome” and surrounded by “friends”

This guy is not a toxic person! But I have seen him be made to feel so small and like his comfort and safety in those spaces are conditional on his silence and acceptance of being treated like a human dunk zone, and I think that some of y’all have had so much shit from straight/cis people that the second you feel like you’ve got an inch, you want to luxuriate in the perceived catharsis of bullying someone who— actually —doesn’t deserve it

And until he very, very carefully mentioned to me in private that it makes him feel bad, I didn’t even clock that I was involved in doing that, that it had become so instinctive for me to make casual jokes like that, and that— well meaning or otherwise —I had been contributing to an environment that made someone I really really like feel like shit

So, I dunno, I think maybe some of y’all should think about that too

[loveliluc]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ to carry a dragon’s love ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

— ft. neuvillette, zhongli

synopsis — you’re their precious little mate, and how much more perfect you’ll be when you’re carrying their seed; 1.5k words.

— minors do not interact! unprotected sex. breeding. mating. marking. they have draconic anatomy. double penetration. fem!reader.

— neuvillette 𝜗𝜚

sharp teeth sink into your shoulder and you mewl into the plush pillow. the ache of them in your flesh paired with the way his cocks lodge deep inside of you has you lost somewhere between pleasure and pain. you’re gripping the sheets until you’re knuckles turn white. you’re drooling and your hair is wild around your head; you’re an absolute wreck under him now.

neuvillette’s hips crash against your ass in a loud smack, your slickness adding a lewd wet sound to the action that makes your cheeks burn hot. you hear him grunt from behind you. “you will be the end of me, my love.”

he’s not fairing much better than you, in truth. his breathing is labored and his thrusts are erratic. he’s not the normal neuvillette you’re so used to seeing; no, he’s much more carnal now, so much more like the dragon that he is. he’s fueled by his most primal of instincts, the tight wrap of you around him urging him to take you, utterly and completely.

“neuvillette,” you cry his name in that saccharine melody he adores so much, the one that melts his heart and makes his cocks twitch against the confines of your walls.

“when you say my name like that, my love, i simply cannot help myself.” and the next thrust into you is brutal and bruising and so deep your breath is knocked from your lungs. he’s fucking you with a purpose, fucking into you so right that you’re sobbing into the pillow.

you know what he’s wanting, what he’s after, and you’re almost unraveling at the mere thought of it.

he’s all too aware of the squeeze of your walls and he groans, muffling the sound with another bite to your shoulder. it’s already marked, and he just can’t help but revel in the fact that’ll be days before it leaves your pretty skin. “you are close, yes?”

you attempt a nod and a small, broken moan that resembles the word yes.

“how perfect you are for me, my love.” neuvillette is flush against you, pressing you deeper into the mattress while his hips maintain a ruthless rhythm, urging you closer and closer to your climax. “do you still want it? please, tell me you do. tell me you still want me to mate you, breed you.”

his voice is deep and gravelly yet tender, and his words are so lewd that you whine underneath him. you know his dragon nature has taken over, you know it’d be practically impossible for him to not breed you now, to sink his seed so deep into your womb with a promise to gift you a child, an offspring. but above all he always wants your approval, and you’re so thankful for that.

“yes,” you hiccup, back arching and ass attempting to meet his hips with little thrusts of your own. a way to show him how eager and willing you are. “i want it. please neuvillette!”

the sovereign above you grins with elation, his hands gripping your waist as he increases his thrusts to a bruising pace; but even with the wild way he takes you, you still feel love in every kiss of his cocks against the deepest parts of you, every squeeze of his palms against your skin.

“you will be my lovely mate, so beautiful pregnant with our young.” he’s close, achingly so. he’s driving into you deep and hitting the sweetest of spots until you’re shuddering under the weight of your orgasm.

you cum with a cry of his name and tight squeezes around his cock. it’s maddening, the pleasure he gives you, and it’s heightened by the promise of his seed, of what it means to be taken so wholly by your mate.

neuvillette is close behind you, reaching his own completion with a guttural groan that echoes against the bedroom walls. he empties himself within you, stilling his hips to plug your holes so that not a single drop goes to waste. you’ve never felt so full in your life.

in your post orgasm state, you barely register the way he kisses all the marks he left behind, soothing the aftermath of his desire. “you did well, my love.”

you breathe as his hands caress your frame. “i love you.”

and oh, how he loves you, his most beautiful mate. his one and only.

— zhongli 𝜗𝜚

“relax, dearest. you are doing so well for me.”

the soft baritone of your lover’s voice fills the space between you and you feel your muscles ease at the sound immediately. zhongli coos while his large palms soothe at the plush flesh of your thighs, careful of his long claws against your precious skin. he pushes your legs open even wider to allow his hips to drive in deeper and you keen when he seems to reach beyond what you can even fathom, broken mewls spilling out of your kiss-swollen lips.

“ah, that’s it. so perfect,” the godly being groans above you at the tight squeeze of your walls around him; he’s got you filled to the brim with both of his large cocks, and they sit heavy and hot in the wet depths of you.

you whimper when he shifts your hips upwards for better leverage. he settles your thighs at his waist while his hands grip even tighter into your hips. he slides even deeper into your weepy holes and all you can do is lay against the sheets and take what he gives. “zhongli, my love, please. i’m so full.”

zhongli’s hips retract before springing forward to offer you swift thrust. the clap of skin resounds in the air of your bedroom and it’s so beautifully lewd it makes your walls flutter. he’s looking at where your bodies are joined with the upmost adoration and love, amber eyes bright and so incredibly soft with fondness. “feels wonderful, doesn’t it?” he palms at the evident bulge in your tummy; he doesn’t miss the way you shudder under his hot touch. “you feel divine. so immensely perfect–” a thrust, “–around me.”

he presses forward, your thighs giving way as his larger frame folds yours in half. he mouths down your cheek to your neck, sharp teeth pricking playfully at your skin until you’re whining out. he’s so much deeper like this, in this mating press he’s now got you in. he thrusts and you swear the force of it shakes you to your core.

“going to breed you,” zhongli says lowly, voice gravelly and rough as he begins to lose himself to the way you wrap around his cocks. “my perfect little mate. you’ll take every last drop of my seed. won’t you, my dearest?”

your mouth opens to reply but oh how your lover likes to tease, driving his cocks deeper at the same time as you begin to speak; instead of words, the most helpless cry tumbles out of your throat.

teeth sink into the flesh of your neck hard, leaving behind a mark that’ll remain for the days to come. “you’ll be so beautiful pregnant with our child, all round and full. don’t you think so?” zhongli picks up his pace suddenly and your body rattles underneath him, crystalline beads falling down your cheeks as you grow overwhelmed. “tell me, you’ll let me make you wholly mine, yes? be the best mate and mother of our offspring.”

your mind is so full of cotton and pleasure and his words do nothing to help you, wearing you down until all that remains is the most vulnerable parts of you. you, your body are his. you give yourself to him completely; you wish to say it, to tell him, but in this state all you can manage is a broken, “yes!”

he’s pressing a languid kiss against your lips, swallowing your cries of bliss before his tongue slips its way through your lips, laving at your wet mouth with its forked tip. it’s messy just like what lies between your thighs where he enters you, over and over and as he fucks you closer to your completion. you’re so pliant and malleable for him as he molds you to his desire.

there’s a clawed thumb against your clit and your body jerks at the spike in pleasure. you’re so sensitive and overwhelmed with pleasure and his cocks and just him entirely. “zhongli, gonna cum!” and it’s all the warning you can offer him before you’re breaking under the weight of euphoria.

the god above you groans when you go rigid beneath him, holes so tight and wet around him. “good girl,” his hips stutter as he nears dangerously close to his own end. “my precious, perfect girl.” he fucks you through the last remaining moments of your orgasm, hips urgent as he seeks his own pleasure. you wail at the overstimulation, one of your small hands grasping at the golden marks on his bicep.

and just as he promised, he fills you with his thick seed, flooding the depths of you until it begins to seep around the base of his cocks. his body shudders under the immense pleasure, hips rocking once, twice before he stills completely.

“mine,” a kiss to your temple. “all mine.”

nat’s notes — was very much in my feels for these two dragon men thus this was created! also wanted to commemorate a successful banner for these two as it now nears it’s end. so happy to be a neuvi and zhongli haver. hope everyone had a great time, and got the character(s) you wished for! <3

[see-arcane]

When it comes to the question of 'Would polyamory have saved them?' in terms of Nosferatus (Thoseferatu), the ranking goes like this:

Nosferatu, 1922: Orlok is way too interested in the Hutters, but in like. A weird bug way. All the plague stuff might have been avoided if the Hutters just let him cling ominously to a wall in their house. Maybe give him a little sippy cup of blood once in a while. He mainly just stares at them all night. It's fine. They're fine.

VERDICT: Polyamory would have saved them, if only on paper. Orlok is not their third, but he is there. Staring. No telling if it actually makes him happy as he has no expressions, but it's chill. The rats are just hanging out. The Hutters are very careful with their bread knives. It's fine, it's cool.

Nosferatu the Vampyre, 1979: Everyone's names are Draculafied, but for all intents and purposes, they're filling the same roles as Orlok, Ellen and Thomas of 1922. That said, Orlok (called Dracula) is the saddest wettest most soggy and mournful death-bringing immortal ever put to screen. He undeadifies Thomas (now Jonathan) and begs Ellen (now Mina sorry, 'Lucy') for a scrap of love rather than just blood. Acts like an elementary schooler with a crush. Wanted to collect the full Harker-Hutter duo so so bad, it's the first thing he's wanted in centuries p l e a s e

VERDICT: Polyamory might have saved the three of them specifically, but it'd be hell for everyone else as evidenced by Thomas-Jonathan turning full Nosferatu by the end and riding off to sow more death. The full polycule would have been a tripled plague on the world. But it'd be almost worth it to have all three of them still kicking.

Nosferatu, 2024: Oh man. No. No no no. At best, Orlok introduced the Hutters to the concept of antique BDSM, but the cadaverous bastard himself is a terrible dom. All aggro, no aftercare, no safewords, no acknowledgment of consent beyond some bullshit ~but we have a covenant~ technicalities to coerce both Hutters into a corner. Also, textbook abuser beats in threatening loved ones and assaulting Thomas and Ellen as shows of power. The Hutters deserve a better third, with or without the supernatural super-death plague.

VERDICT: Polyamory might have saved the Hutters if they had a better undead addition to their situation--I recommend Gautier's hedonistic dream-trysting Clarimonde, she'd show them a good time--but with Orlok? Fuck no. He's just in it to plant a flag of 'I'm owed access to you because you pinkie promised as a teenager!!' ownership on Ellen and be weird at Thomas in full 'It's not gay if I'm the top/I will prove I am more Man by making you the Woman' mode. Utter trashfire of a relationship in the works there.

That being said, the very rancidness of that hypothetical throuple is such an enticing gothic trainwreck to envision.

Orlok: "This is my contractually entrapped undead forever-bride, Ellen, and our wife, Thomas." :)

Dracula, wishing he'd stayed home on his end of the Carpathian mountain range: "You mean groom?"

Orlok: "I said what I said." :)

[captain-hawks]

hi dee, merry christmas eve eve.

if you’re still taking drabble requests, i propose reuniting with famous ex-bf sae at a hometown xmas party

i don’t forgive you (but please don’t hold me to it) 🎀 itoshi sae x f!reader

4k — 18+, exes to lovers, infidelity (not sae x reader’s relationship), fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, praise kink, oral fixation, finger sucking, angst with a hopeful ending, playing fast and loose with sae’s timeline, timeskip

a/n: i listened to phoebe bridgers - punisher (the album) on repeat nonstop while writing this. recommended for the vibes!

“I knew you hated me. But I didn’t realize just how much until tonight.”

A voice interrupts the silence on the back porch of the Itoshi household, its owner someone that you’ve spent the better part of the night avoiding. Your tongue caresses the back of your teeth, fingers subtly tightening their grip against the wooden railing. 

It feels like it might snow.

“Since when do you come back here for Christmas? Did you need to come sign some hometown autographs to boost your ego?” you ask, voice dripping with sarcasm as you stare out into the dark backyard, rather than turning your gaze to the ghost now standing beside you. 

Itoshi Sae laughs, and the sound cracks against your ribcage like a whip.

It reverberates against the grooves and fissures that still linger there, ones that might as well have been carved by his own hand. It races through you like a cold wind. It makes your lungs burn. 

You find it difficult to breathe for a moment.

And it takes everything in you to appear as unbothered by it all as you wish you were. As you’d like him to believe. 

“I heard from Rin that you’re working on your master’s degree now.”

That’s not any of your goddamn business, you think to yourself. 

“Rin has a big mouth—and since when are you two on speaking terms?”

Sae shrugs, leaving you to stew for a moment as you try to decide whether or not to be annoyed that Rin neglected to share that pertinent bit of information with you.

To be fair, the nearest object usually becomes a projectile weapon by your hand whenever the mention of Rin even having a brother comes up in conversation though. 

At the very least, you’ve stayed close with one of the Itoshi brothers.

And it’s bad enough that you have to dodge Sae’s stupidly famous name like the plague any time you dare to indulge in any piece of football media for Rin’s sake. Fuck him for being so good. 

(At least, that’s what you try to tell yourself. Rather than believing the alternative—that you’re just pathetically hyper aware of Sae in his absence, of all the space he left behind in your life. That five years later, you’re still slowly bleeding out from something that shattered into so many pieces, you don’t think you’ll ever find the last sliver.)

Inhaling sharply, you finally turn to face him. 

It’s not fair, not really—what the sight of him still does to you, even now. Even after all this time. 

Sae’s hair is tousled in a purposeful way, and his eyes are still as sharp as ever. He’s wearing sleek boots and fitted, dark wash jeans, his upper half covered by a jacket that’s likely as expensive as it appears.

He looks far better than he has any right to while you’re standing out here wearing a silly, ugly Christmas sweater that’s an annual staple of Itoshi holiday parties (your parents have been neighbors with them since you were a kid, so you know the drill by now). 

You try not to think about how you fell in love for the first time with the man standing five steps away from you here, between this dark backyard and the one nestled beside it. Beneath the shade of towering oak trees, in the plush grass on warm summer days with sticky popsicle fingers and sweat-slick skin. 

About how terribly you missed him when he left for Spain.

How you didn’t fully understand what you felt until he came back to Japan after you graduated high school. 

How you fell in love with him all over again. 

How he kissed you for the first time in this very spot, with one hand on your waist and the other cupping your cheek. You remember the way this very railing felt as it pressed into your back, the humid summer air and the buzz of the cicadas and the fireflies that winked in and out of sight around you. 

How you fell a little more in love with him every day over the four years that followed.

And you remember that you were standing here when Sae called you five years ago and told you that he’d cancelled his flight. That he wouldn’t be home for Christmas. 

That he didn’t think things were working anymore.

You couldn’t have disagreed more, but he didn’t give you a chance to argue. 

“Why are you here, Sae?”

He looks out into the darkness beyond in the yard before turning back to you. “Rin said you’re engaged.”

Self-consciously, you tuck the hand adorned with said diamond ring into your pocket. 

Sae’s eyes track the movement. 

“And?”

“That was quick,” he says calmly. 

The anger that rears up inside of you is so quick and sudden, you hardly have a chance to reign it in. 

“We’ve been together for two years. When you know, you know,” you shrug, ignoring the raw feeling at the back of your throat as you push the words out. 

Sae’s quiet for a moment, taking the subtle jab for what it is. “Where is he tonight?”

This time, you don’t hold back. “What, were you hoping to be politely introduced as the reason why I was a fucking emotionally unstable mess when he met me?”

His facial expression flickers. “I’m not going to apologize for not letting you continue to burn yourself out juggling a long distance relationship and a university degree between time zones. For not letting you choose me over your dream internship.”

“So you broke up with me over the phone three days before Christmas and mailed me all of my shit and went radio silent for five years? To show how much you cared about me?”

Sae takes two steps forward, shortening the distance between the two of you with tangible purpose. 

“You would have tried to talk me out of it, to come up with a solution that wouldn’t have worked.”

You nod, voice bordering on a frantic laugh. “So you made the choice for both of us. Because you know best.”

“Do you think I wasn’t hurting?”

Turning away, you wrap your arms around yourself, the cold finally seeping in past the adrenaline pumping through your veins, sinking into your bones in a way that makes you ache. 

“The only thing that could possibly hurt you is football.”

This time, it’s Sae that laughs, but it’s less amused and more self-deprecating now. And without warning, something heavy and warm settles around your shoulders, the musky scent of cologne enveloping you. 

Sae comes to stand in front of you, leaving you wearing his jacket. 

He’s wearing the goddamn stupid, ugly Christmas sweater with a dog on it that you bought for him years ago. 

“You’re wrong,” he says quietly, breath coming out as a white, whispy cloud of condensation. 

You wish you were. 

Ripping off his jacket, you shove it back into his arms before storming back inside, heart on the verge of pounding its way out of your chest and through the slats on the deck to burrow into the dirt below. 

—

You manage to avoid Sae for the next hour or so, mingling amongst other party guests and pointedly ignoring all of the excited chatter about the footballer’s festive homecoming. 

Rin doesn’t push, not in front of everyone, but you can tell by the concerned way he keeps glancing over at you that he’s aware you and Sae have talked. 

It’s only on your way to use the upstairs bathroom, hoping to glean a moment of quiet after your time out on the porch was so spectacularly ruined, that you find yourself distracted. 

There’s a dim light on in Sae’s childhood bedroom. 

And this is where he finds you again, standing frozen in the doorway and staring at the constellations projected on the walls by the small sphere-shaped lamp sitting on the desk in the corner of his room. 

The two of you used to lie on his bedroom floor for hours staring at the stars on his ceiling. 

“Does he make you happy?”

You’re expecting it this time when you hear Sae’s voice.

“Do you feel that’s any of your business?” you ask tiredly. 

He slowly walks past you into the room, sweater and jacket both seemingly discarded downstairs. He’s stripped down to a white t-shirt now, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. 

“I made myself let you go so that you could be with someone who would make you as happy as you deserve. I don’t think I deserve your answer, but I’d like to know.”

You curl your toes against the carpet beneath your feet—just like you used to every time a silly teenage confession for him was trembling on the tip of your tongue. 

Your engagement ring feels cool and heavy on your finger. 

You hate him, hate this. Hate this effortless vice grip he still has on your weak heart. 

“You made me happy,” you tell him, voice hardly above a whisper. 

You hate that you know he made the right choice. 

Sae blinks. 

You would have left everything behind for him—school, your career, your future. 

You were content with weekends spent tangled up in hotel rooms between his games, with failed exams and missed assignments and a life spent in suitcases. 

“Aren’t you dating that model?” you blurt out, scrambling for something. Anything. 

He nods but doesn’t offer anything else. 

“Well, why didn’t you bring her here?” It’s a battle to keep your voice steady. 

“I didn’t want to.”

He—

“What, you didn’t want her to see you jealous if I brought my fiancé?” you joke. 

Sae lets out a huff of air—it might be a laugh.

“Something like that,” he responds quietly, gaze shifting to the window.

“Tell me why you’re here,” you say again.

The sound of voices climbing the stairs floats through the open door, and you step further into the room, pushing it closed and locking it behind you before crossing your arms. You’d rather not be interrupted by his drunk aunts. 

“I wanted to know how it would feel.”

You tilt your head. “How what would feel?”

He gestures to your hand, to the new diamond just hardly glinting in the low light. “Seeing a ring on your finger, knowing I didn’t put it there myself.”

The ground beneath your feet feels marginally less solid as your gut churns and your nerves sway. Your teeth sink into your cheek, pain blossoming as you bite down. 

“And?”

Sae runs a hand through his hair. 

“I hate it.” 

It’s blunt and raw, the way the words slide off of his tongue. And he stares at you when it says it, refusing to break eye contact. You take a step toward him, no reasonable explanation for the movement beyond the fucked up magnetism that still pulls you toward this false promise of true north. 

“Why, would you have gotten me something nicer?”

It’s dizzying, this conversation. The way words keep coming out of your mouth unbidden, filling the gaps in years worth of silence. Stroking a bruise, scraping a scar. 

“You hate gold,” he replies evenly, and your hand subconsciously goes to your neck. To where a silver chain sat for years before you finally tore it off and threw it in an envelope marked with Sae’s address. 

His eyes wordlessly track the movement. 

“Do I?”

He steps toward you, closing the dwindling gap further. And you swear you can feel it—a subtle charge in the air. 

Sae nods, reaching out to lightly take your hand in his. He holds it up to inspect. “And this diamond’s too big. Too square. You like small stones, something vintage.”

He’s right. 

You stare at him, all too aware of the familiar feeling of his skin against your own. 

“You sound confident.”

He knows he’s right. 

And he doesn’t falter. “There’s been a ring sitting in a small, velvet box in the back of my closet for five years. I haven’t forgotten what it looks like.”

A—

Words die feebly in your throat as you weakly croak, “—what?”

Sae sits down on the edge of his bed, looking down at his own hands. “I had it all planned out. I was so fucking nervous, it was ridiculous. And then I woke up that morning and realized that I was being selfish trying to tie you down to me permanently.”

He meets your gaze as you stare back at him, dumbfounded. Your knees feel weak.

“You were going to propose?”

Sae nods.

You move to stand in front of him, your socked feet nudging his own. “Did you fly all the way home to finally tell me that?”

He looks up at you. “I don’t know.”

You’re not sure what happens first—the brush of your knees against his own or the spreading of his thighs. But you find yourself between his legs all the same, denim resting against your sheer stockings and the fabric of your skirt.

“What am I supposed to do with this information, Sae?”

His eyes burn through you. 

“Tell me to get rid of the ring. Tell me you want nothing to do with me. Tell me you hate me.”

His words strike like flint against the raw edges of your nerves.

“I hate you,” you tell him, even as you reach out let your fingers ghost along the curve of his jaw.

Sae’s eyes fall shut, and he leans into your touch.

You let your hand slide higher, into the soft locks of his hair. 

His intake of breath is audible.

“I hate that you left me. I hate that you made the choice without me. I hate that you were right, because I never would have come this far in my career, and I never would have gone this far with my education.”

“I’m sorry—” His voice comes out hoarse, and he collapses forward, head pressed against your abdomen.

“I hate that I still love you, even now. Even after all this time.”

Sae’s arms wrap around the backs of your legs even as he mumbles, “Don’t say that.”

You feel like you could catch fire at any moment. 

“Why not?”

He shifts his head, rubbing his face against the bottom edge of your sweater, and the material rides up just enough to expose a sliver of skin. 

“I don’t deserve to hear it.”

You drag your hand to the back of his head, tugging the hair there to tilt his chin upward to meet your gaze once more. Your heart lurches in your chest at the sight before you.

“Probably not, but you decided to kick off honesty hour, so.”

Sae tips his head back downward, his breath hot where his mouth rests against the bare skin above the waist of your skirt.

“I wish you’d tell me not to touch you.”

You shiver. “Should I?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out.

You don’t answer him as every reasonable part of you goes quiet, drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears and the reckless desire that shamelessly shudders its way down your spine.

“And if I don’t?”

It’s pointed this time, the way Sae’s lips press to your stomach in an open-mouthed kiss. 

Logically, you know this isn’t right—standing here between your ex-boyfriend’s legs in the darkness of his childhood bedroom. Not with an engagement ring on your finger. Not when he’s got a girlfriend waiting on him somewhere. Not when this well should be dry, this bridge should be burned.

The bruise should be gone and the scar should be healed.

But—

But you’ve known him more than half of your life.

And for as much as the past five years have hurt—

For as much as you’ve missed him.

For as much as you’ve wanted to forget him.

For as much as you want to hate him.

—you’ve never regretted anything when it comes to Itoshi Sae.

Not once.

You climb onto the bed, straddling Sae’s lap. He reaches up, pointer finger curling beneath your chin as his thumb presses against the edge of your bottom lip.

“I can’t promise I’ll be a good man if you don’t tell me to stop,” he murmurs.

Your pulse quickens, and you part your lips slightly, heat flooding your gut as Sae slides his thumb into your mouth. 

This is a terrible idea.

You flick your tongue against the tip of the digit, and he holds your gaze as he slowly pulls his thumb back out.

“I want you to touch me,” you finally say.

Sae’s other hand, now resting at the base of your spine, slides up your back, stopping once he’s cupping the back of your head. He leans in, forehead resting against your own.

You’re maddeningly aware of every single spot his body is touching yours.

“Say it again.”

You let your nose brush against the side of his as you murmur, “Touch me, Sae.”

It drags all of the air from your lungs—the feeling of Sae’s lips crashing into yours.

His mouth greets you like a long-lost lover, like a dog-eared page. Like worn in soles and the perpetual creak in the step at the bottom of the stairs. 

His lips move with the purpose of car tires down a street you’ve known most of your life. With the muscle memory of feet across a childhood home in the dark. 

Tongue dancing against the seam of your mouth, your lips part for him, desire and longing cresting in equal measure as he grasps your hips and pulls you impossibly closer.

Sae kisses you like he hasn’t kissed you in five years.

He kisses you like no time has passed at all.

He kisses you like he wants to tell you something more between tongues and teeth, between slick saliva and gasping breaths. 

You don’t mean for it to come out so desperate, so needy—the way you breathe out his name when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and bites and sucks his way to the edge before letting go.

“Sae.”

You hardly have time to register the way the room spins when Sae’s grip on you shifts, your back softly colliding with the mattress as you find him staring down at you. 

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks.

You shake your head, and he moves backward, pushing up your skirt, spreading your legs and settling down between your thighs. In the meantime, you slip off your sweater and toss it aside. Sae watches you do it, watches the way the tight black tank top you’re wearing underneath clings to your body, the way your peaked nipples sit on display through the fabric of your thin bralette. 

The heat that licks within your abdomen flares white-hot when he drags a thumb against your mound, your stockings already damp from the arousal soaking through your underwear.

There’s a slight tug in the material, followed by a ripping sound.

“Really?”

“There was already a hole.”

“You’re lying.”

Sae shrugs, but he doesn’t look sorry about it. “Yeah.”

You don’t have a chance to give him a hard time about ripping your stockings, not when you’re suddenly met with the feeling of two of his fingers sliding through the slick, creamy folds of your bare, soaked slit. 

“Sae,” you whine.

The bed creaks when you buck your hips upward while he circles his middle finger around the outer edges of your fluttering hole.

“You have to be quiet,” he murmurs, staring at you intently as he slowly slides a finger into your tight channel. 

You try to swallow it down, the moan that dangles at the edges of your lips while the slender digit slips deeper into your cunt. But as you tightly grasp the sheets on either side of you, it’s a lost cause when he pulls it out, only to stuff it back in up to the last knuckle. 

Sae’s mouth closes over yours, tongue sliding in past your lips in a messy, spit soaked kiss. You moan into it as he slowly finger fucks you, one digit becoming two, his thumb stroking your swollen, aching clit with each stroke, with every thrust. 

“Always loved how wet you get for me,” he rasps before capturing your tongue between his lips and sucking on it, the sounds nearly as filthy as the slick, creamy squelch of your cunt around his fingers.

You gasp, spine arching, thighs spreading wider as you rock into his touch, hands stretching downward until they brush the stiff press of Sae’s erection against the zipper of his jeans.

He groans into your mouth before pulling back, murmuring against your lips. “Are you sure—”

You squeeze his cock through his pants in return, kissing him again. 

Sae’s exhale is labored as he extricates his drenched fingers from your pussy just long enough to kick off his jeans and boxer briefs, leaving both in a discarded pile on the floor as he climbs back on top of you.

Your soaked panties and stockings are a lost cause by now, not worth the battle of peeling off, not when the torn hole allows him to rub the leaking head of his cock against your slit all the same. Tears of pleasure prick at the corners of your eyes as stares down at you while he eases his shaft into the grip of your cunt inch by inch, until he’s balls deep and your legs are wrapped around his waist tugging him impossibly deeper. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, one hand splayed at the back of your head, the other sliding up your shirt and beneath your bra to palm at your breasts.

Just the sensation of his thumb stroking its way across one of your pebbled nipples alone has you twitching beneath him, cunt grinding against the base of his shaft. Your muscles tremble with pleasure as Sae pulls out of you, only to rock back in. The room echoes with the wet sounds of your pussy swallowing his cock, the accompanying little moans begging to trickle out past your lips silenced by the two fingers he slides into your mouth in turn.

Because Sae hasn’t forgotten any of the little ways to take you apart, not at all.

There’s no apprehension in the way you shamelessly suck on his fingers, a trail of drool spilling out past your lips and dripping down your chin, the arousal churning between your legs going molten. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs—if for no reason other than the fact that he knows what it’ll do to you.

And the way your pussy clenches down on his cock makes it abundantly clear.

The corner of Sae’s mouth lifts, caught somewhere between a smirk and a rueful smile. It’s the satisfaction that he still knows you, that this is more than just muscle memory. 

He knows you like the stars know the night sky.

Like the shore knows the tide.

He kisses you again, languid and deep. Like this means so much more than a quick fuck on a cold December night caught in the throes of the liminal space of his childhood bedroom.

Like this means so much more than finally ending it where it all began.

“I love you,” Sae gasps against your lips as he thrusts into you.

The coil wrapped tightly in your gut unfurls, rapid and quick, and a scorching wave of pleasure washes over you as your cunt spasms and contracts around his length.

“I love you, too,” you choke out, bordering on a sob, and Sae’s fingers brush away the tear that slips down your cheek as he fucks you through your climax.

You can feel when he’s on the verge of pulling out, and you shake your head. His lips crash back into yours with a rough groan as his cock pulses inside of you, spilling rope after rope of thick, hot cum deep in your cunt.

Sae eventually collapses beside you, rather than climbing off of the bed, and he pulls you to his chest. You lie there like that for a moment before slowly sitting up, and he watches you quietly as you raise both hands, grasping your occupied ring finger. The sound of metal clinking against wood echoes in the silence of Sae’s bedroom as you turn to the nightstand before laying back down beside him.

He takes your now-empty hand in his, pressing his lips to the heel of your palm. 

Like the shore knows the tide.

[izzyzt]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥’𝐬 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞

the salesman (gong ji-cheol) x f/reader — squid game

| Y/N confronts the recruiter after two years, but he turns the tables with a sinister game and a chilling warning: “This is your only warning, sweetheart.”|

———————————————————————————

Y/N slammed the door to the cheap motel room shut, tossing her bag onto the creaky bed. The room smelled like stale air and mildew, but she didn’t care. This wasn’t about comfort; it was a pit stop on her endless hunt for him.

It had been two years since she escaped the Squid Game alive, but she was anything but free. The blood money still sat untouched in a locked safe, a constant reminder of the lives she took and the people she lost. And above all, it reminded her of him—the man who started it all.

The man who gave her that damn card.

He had a face she couldn’t forget, one that haunted her even now: sharp features, a smile too charming for someone so cruel, and eyes that sparkled with amusement no matter the circumstance. She didn’t know his name, but that didn’t matter. She’d been chasing his shadow ever since, following every lead, every whispered rumor.

Tonight, she’d finally seen him again—on the subway. He was sitting there, calm as ever, as though the two years of her obsessive search had been nothing but a game to him. She had pushed through the crowded train to get to him, but he slipped out just as the doors opened, vanishing into the bustling platform.

And now here she was, back in this dingy motel, trying to piece together her next move.

But then, a voice she hadn’t heard in two years broke through the silence, smooth and playful.

“Took you long enough.”

Her blood froze.

Y/N turned sharply, and there he was. Him.

He was sitting in the armchair by the window, one leg crossed over the other, his posture relaxed. His suit was sharp and pristine, a stark contrast to the shabby room, and his eyes sparkled with an unsettling combination of amusement and mischief.

“How did you get in here?” she demanded, her voice sharp and trembling with anger.

He tilted his head, like a curious child trying to solve a puzzle.

“You really should learn to lock your doors, Y/N.”

Her fists clenched at her sides as she stepped toward him, her body burning with rage.

“What do you want?”

He stood, taking his time, adjusting his cuffs as though she hadn’t spoken. When he finally met her gaze, his smile widened.

“What do I want?” he repeated, stepping closer. “That’s the wrong question. You’ve been looking for me, haven’t you? Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Her rage boiled over, and without thinking, she threw a punch at him.

He caught her wrist mid-air with startling ease, his grip firm yet calculated. He didn’t flinch, didn’t blink—just smiled as though she’d done exactly what he wanted.

“Now, now,” he murmured, his voice dangerously calm. “Is that any way to greet someone you’ve been chasing for so long?”

She yanked her hand free, glaring at him with fire in her eyes. “You ruined my life!”

His brow arched as he took another step forward, forcing her to back into the edge of the bed.

“Ruined it?” he echoed, his tone soft, almost pitying. “Or gave it purpose?”

She wanted to shove him again, to scream, but the way he was watching her—calm, unflinching, almost playful—stopped her in her tracks. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin, holding it up between his fingers like a magician about to perform a trick.

“Let’s play a game,” he said, his voice light and cheerful, as though they were old friends.

Her jaw tightened.

“I’m not playing anything with you.”

He pouted, tilting his head.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart. Heads or tails. You pick.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he replied, flipping the coin between his fingers. “Just a simple game. Call it.”

Her hands balled into fists again, but this time she swallowed her anger, narrowing her eyes.

“Heads.”

He grinned, flipping the coin high into the air. It caught the flickering light as it spun before landing neatly in his palm. He didn’t reveal the result right away, instead stepping closer, so close that she could feel his breath against her skin.

“Are you sure about that?” he whispered, his voice low and intimate.

“Just show me,” she snapped.

He opened his hand slowly, revealing tails.

His grin widened as he leaned in, his hands moving to the bed on either side of her, caging her in. The space between them vanished, his presence suffocating.

“Looks like you lose,” he murmured, his tone deceptively gentle.

“What now?” she spat, refusing to let the proximity rattle her.

His smile softened, but the intensity in his eyes burned brighter.

“Now, we see how far you’re willing to go.”

She tried to shove him away, but he didn’t budge. His gaze never wavered as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

“You’re messing with my work, sweetheart, and I can’t let that happen.”

Her breath hitched as his hand brushed against her jaw, tilting her chin upward. His grip was light, almost tender, but it sent shivers down her spine.

“This is your only warning,” he continued, his lips barely an inch from hers. “Back off. Or next time, you won’t see me coming.”

With that, he released her and stepped back, adjusting his cuffs as though nothing had happened.

Y/N glared at him, her chest rising and falling with barely controlled rage.

“I’m not stopping,” she said, her voice trembling with defiance.

His smirk returned, sharp and dangerous.

“Good,” he said, walking toward the door. “That makes it so much more fun.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving her alone in the suffocating silence. On the table by the window, she noticed the coin he had left behind, perfectly balanced on its edge, a taunting reminder that the game was far from over.

[4milly]

girl u are FREKAYYYYY. what's life like with bd!zilla? 🙄🙄🙄🙄

i really do imagine he's the type to be so nonchalant about shit tbh. like when you two decided to co-parent your 3 year old son, from that day forth zilla's always put on this act that he never cared about shit you did. you both were single.

nothing new. he did the in the relationship. act like nothing ever mattered. you'd do things to spite him to atleast see if he cared. like doing your hair a different way when you'd drop your son off, wearing a dress too short and posting it to the gram, even sending him thirst traps on "accident".

only to get a dry ass response. barely even that, sometimes he’d just heart the message and move on.

but nothing ever seemed to phase him. you'd catch glimpses sometimes - a fleeting look in his eyes when he thought you weren't paying attention, the way his jaw would tighten ever so slightly when another man's name came up. but he'd always brush it off, act like it was nothing.

one day, you decided to really push it. you showed up to drop off your son wearing that slinky red dress he always loved, the one that hugged every curve. you made sure your makeup was flawless, your hair perfectly curled. as you handed over your giggling toddler, you casually mentioned the date you had lined up for that night.

little did he know, you didn't even have one. you purposely did all this shit so his blood pressure would raise.

for a split second, you saw it - that flash of jealousy, that hint of possessiveness in his dark eyes. but just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual cool indifference. "have fun, babygirl," he said with a wink before focusing on your son

"mama, look pretty?" your son said gleaming towards you

"she does, buddy. so very pretty." he simply stated giving you a once over, stopping at your cleavage.

you felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, at the way his eyes lingered on your body. for a moment, you forgot to breathe. then you caught yourself, plastering on a coy smile. "thanks," you said breezily, "i'm sure my date will think so too."

as you turned to head back to your car , you could feel zilla's eyes on you, burning into your back. you put an extra sway in your hips, knowing exactly how that dress moved when you walked. you heard your son's laughter fade as the door closed behind you.

later that night, after your mediocre date with some guy whose name you could barely remember, you found yourself scrolling through your phone in the bathroom. your thumb hovered over zilla's contact. before you could stop yourself, you fired off a text: "date was a bust. heading home early."

you stared at your phone, waiting for his reply. the minutes that went by were agonizing. just as you were about to toss your phone in your purse, it buzzed.

u wanna come over, mama?

you knew this was a bad idea. you only wanted to spite him — show him you still had it and what he lost. but...damn, you'd be lying if you said you didn't crave to feel that long, girth, samoan dick working inside you, and those hands using your hips bouncing you like a bitch in heat, just like an addict craves their next fix. nonetheless, you responded anyways: be there in 15.

the ride to his place felt endless. second-guessing your decision with every passing streetlight. but when you knocked on the door and saw him standing in the doorway, all doubts vanished. He looked good - too good. his white tank top clung to his muscular frame, and his sweatpants hung low on his hips.

"hey, mama," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "come in."

you stepped inside, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over you. the living room was dimly lit. as you stepped inside, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over you, you felt a surge of electricity in the air. the living room was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the walls. soft music played in the background - was that the playlist you used to make love to? baby making music as they say.

zilla closed the door behind you, his presence looming large. you could feel the heat radiating off his body as he moved closer, his scent suffocating you. "you want sum' to drink?" he asked, his voice husky.

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. as he walked to the kitchen, your eyes followed the broad expanse of his back, remembering how it felt to dig your nails into those muscles.

He returned with two glasses of red wine - your favorite. As he handed you yours, his fingers brushed against yours, lingering just a moment too long. you took a sip, the rich flavor exploding on your tongue.

you closed your eyes for a brief moment as you glanced over the room, "so where is our little guy?" desperate to break the silence.

zilla almost didn't hear the question, to occupied in looking at your ass in the dress.

"zilla?" you said more firmly to bring his attention back towards you

"my bad, mama. we watched that paw patrol shit he like and he crashed out not too long ago," he responded before taking a sip of his wine "you look good as fuck, y'know that?"

you felt a flush creep up your neck at his words. "thanks," you murmured, taking another sip of wine to steady your nerves.

zilla moved closer, his eyes roaming over you hungrily. "you r'member first time you wore it?" his voice was low, tinged with desire. "that night at the club, when I couldn't keep my hands off you. had to take yo ass home right then."

you nodded, memories flooding back. the way he'd pressed you against the wall as soon as you got through the door, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the dress higher, pushing his hand into your panties.

before you could respond, zilla closed the distance between you, his large hand cupping your face. "lemme r'mind you," he growled, before crashing his lips against yours. the kiss was hungry, desperate, filled with years of pent-up longing.

in one fluid motion, he lifted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. he carried you to the wall, pressing you against it as his lips trailed hot kisses down your neck. your head fell back, a soft moans escaping your lips.

"god, you so fuckin' pretty," he murmured against your skin, his hands roaming your body, reacquainting themselves with every curve. he hitched your dress up higher, his fingers tracing the edge of your lace panties. "these in the way, mama."

with a swift movement, he pushed your panties to the side exposing your wet core, "shit, i missed this pussy. she missed daddy, baby?"

zilla's fingers were replaced by his hard length, rubbing against you. you didn't remember when he got the time to take his dick out his pants, but thank the stars above. you finally were about to get what you've nearly been wishing for and more, "fuck me, zilla. i missed you so much."

he slid into you, filling you up in one long stroke. your eyes rolled back as your body stretched to accommodate him. it had been too long since you'd felt him this way, inside you, claiming you as his own. the way his dick filled you perfectly made your mind go numb. you wrapped an arm around his neck bringing his lips to your owns. you let out a strangled whine as began to stroke, your pussy still getting used to the filling of being so full again.

he started moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you were nearly empty before filling you back up letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickled your clit.

"zilla!" you yelped as a particular thrust made him swipe over that special spot inside of you

"shh, shh don't wake him up, mama." he replied throwing a hand over your mouth to keep you moans at bay — careful not to wake your sleeping boy down the hall. "so fuckin' pretty just taking all this dick. I should nut all up in yo pretty ass.”

your moans and screams were muffled into zilla's hand. your eyes rolling towards the back of your head. you were in complete bliss right now. zilla's hips moved with a primal rhythm, each thrust driving you higher up the wall. your dress bunched around your waist, the silky fabric sliding against your skin with every movement. your panties, pushed hastily to the side, were soaked with your arousal — same as the floor beneath you. zilla's thickness stretched and filled you completely, your walls clenching around him, trying to draw him even deeper.

"that's it, mama," he panted, his hips pounding you against the wall. "take this dick. show me how much you missed it."

you arched your back, pressing your chest against his as you sought more friction. zilla's free hand slid down to grip your ass, kneading the flesh as he lifted you slightly, changing the angle. the new position had him hitting your g-spot with every stroke, and you saw stars behind your closed eyelids. you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back, urging him on. your nails raked down his muscular back, leaving small rips in his tank top. zilla dipped his head, trailing hot kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts.

your breath hitched as your belly started to tighten around his dick. zilla let out a quiet menacing chuckle into your ear, "wassup baby? you wanna cum? keep wettin' this dick up. make that shit spit fa me."

tears pricked your eyes as you shut them tightly. the pressure built up in your stomach and cum dripped down your legs — unable to store all of it in your pussy with his dick pummeling inside of you. zilla groaned, feeling your walls clench around him. "that's it, baby," he praised, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. "fuck, I'm gonna cum. want me to fill you up, mama?"

your eyes were crossed and your head was spent, only focusing on the feeling of cumming all over him and the pleasure radiating through your body.

he let out a groan as he released every drop of his cum into you without thinking twice. his hips stuttering as he followed you over the edge. he gripped your ass, his hips bucking upwards, emptying ropes of his cum deep inside of you—filling you to the brim with his seed. some of it running down his dick, to his legs, and onto the floor. It felt too good to pull out and he wasn’t going to.

as you both came down from your high, zilla slowly removed his hand from your mouth, replacing it with a tender kiss on your bottom lip as you continued to shake and twitch in his arms. the feeling of his warm cum so deep inside you, triggering another mini orgasm. your body continued to convulse as every nerve ending in your body exploded, "yo ass happy you finally got some dick?"

❦:

@caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @msbigredmachine @luvrsluxe @uceyliyahh @angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23 @empressdede @trentybenty @heauxvibez @whatdoeseverybodywant @shes2real @romansthrone @acknowledge-reigns @southerngirl41 @prettyfilmz @jaza23

don’t forget to like and reblog! <3 drop a comment also! i love reading those. xoxo, cleo.

(think i might make this a series tbh.)

[mommyownsmee]

I want you to lose yourself in me, utterly and without restraint. Not just physically, but in every way a person can surrender. I want you to straddle me, your thighs trembling as your body presses against mine, the heat between us unbearable, your soft, shuddering breaths tickling my neck. Your eyes, half-lidded and hazy, will meet mine, and I’ll see nothing but desire—pure, unfiltered, and raw.

My hands will find your waist, gripping firmly as I guide you, feeling the subtle rhythm of your hips moving against me, seeking friction, chasing a release only I can give you. My fingers will dig into your flesh, holding you close, feeling every shiver that courses through you. My other hand will tangle in your hair, pulling gently but firmly to tilt your head back, exposing the tender line of your throat. I’ll kiss it, tracing my tongue along your pulse, feeling it race beneath my lips as your gasps grow louder, more desperate.

Your hands will wander, clutching at my shoulders, digging your nails into my skin as if anchoring yourself to reality while I drive you further into madness. You’ll grind harder, your movements growing erratic, your moans breaking into soft whimpers that make my chest tighten and my blood run hot. I’ll murmur against your skin, my lips brushing against your ear as I tell you how breathtaking you are, how sexy the sounds you make are, how much I need you in this moment and every moment after.

Your body will arch into me, your head falling forward to rest against my shoulder as you struggle to catch your breath. I’ll feel your lips, warm and wet, trailing kisses along my neck, your teeth grazing my skin as your moans vibrate against me. Every broken cry, every shuddering gasp will only spur me on, making me grip you tighter, pull you closer, until there’s no space left between us.

When your body begins to shake, when your breathing hitches and your nails claw into my back, I’ll know you’re close. I’ll whisper in your ear, my voice low and rough, telling you how good you’re doing, how perfect you are, how much I want you to let go. You’ll cling to me, your hips stuttering as you ride the edge, and I’ll hold you steady, feeling every tremor, every quiver as you finally come undone, your cries of pleasure muffled against my neck.

- But I won’t stop there. I’ll lay you back, gently but with purpose, spreading you out beneath me like a work of art. My eyes will drink in every inch of you—your flushed cheeks, your heaving chest, the way your thighs tremble with the aftershocks of your release. I’ll kiss my way down your body, savoring the taste of your skin, the saltiness of your sweat mixed with the sweetness of your scent. I’ll linger at your breasts, taking one in my mouth, my tongue flicking over your hardened nipple while my hand trails lower, teasing you, making you squirm.

When I finally reach the heat between your thighs, I’ll take my time. I’ll press my lips against your swollen clit, flicking my tongue over it in slow, deliberate strokes that make your hips buck and your breath hitch. My fingers will slide inside you, curling just right, finding the spot that makes you arch off the bed and cry out my name. Your hands will tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, and I’ll give you everything—my tongue, my fingers, my breath, all working in perfect harmony to drive you higher and higher.

Your thighs will tremble around my head, your body twisting beneath me as you beg for more, for mercy, for release. I’ll give it to you, but only when I’ve taken you to the brink, when you’re so far gone that the only thing you can feel is me. I’ll keep going, relentless, as you shatter beneath me, your screams echoing in the room, your body writhing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

When you finally collapse, trembling and breathless, I’ll crawl back up to you, my lips finding yours in a kiss that’s soft and tender, a contrast to the intensity of what we just shared. I’ll whisper your name, over and over, like a prayer, as I hold you close, feeling your heartbeat slow against my chest. And even then, I won’t let you go. Not now, not ever. You’re mine. Completely, utterly, and irrevocably mine.

[amaiaqt]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤミㅤbreaking newsㅤ⋆ ｡˚ㅤ♡ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤif it's okay with you ! ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤkinich !

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤoperation: amaiaqt comeback is a go ! ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenjoy, xoxo ♡

"you're being a total creep again, kinich !" ajaw snickers, only for the smirk to fall off his face when he's swatted away for the nth time that hour, snickering turning into cursing. "hey ! why you—"

"for such a small thing, your mouth's big enough for a foot to go down it." kinich grumbles, sick and tired of ajaw's jeering antics. as ajaw yells at him to take his words back, he walks off, his footsteps heavy.

he was supposed to be in a decent mood today; he had a commission that tasked him to head over to your district, so he could have talked to you for a while. but as soon as you saw him . .

"oh, hey kinich ! you looking for kachina ?" you grin cheerily, eyes looking up from the block of wood you were carving just to spare him a glance. just a glance, you looked right back to the wood after a few seconds. "no, i'm—" he tried to correct, but you chimed again. "ooh, looking to buy then ?" he blinks, then nods, thinking you knew about his purpose here after all. but you spoke again, "so what is it ? a gift ?" and you gasp, giving him a teasing look; "for mualani perhaps ?" his eyebrows furrow more than he intended, as a result you laughed it off and apologized. but he was too busy thinking about why everyone seems to think he likes mualani to bask in the sound of your voice. he could ignore it before, when people both of his tribe and mualani's would whisper about what relationship the two shared. it was solid between them after all that they were more siblings to each other than anything else. but when you started to think the same, he didn't like it. he liked you, but you seemed to wholeheartedly believe that he liked someone else . .

he didn't mean to walk off after you told him to wait a moment, he realized now, as he walks away from the spot he was previously standing idly in, watching you work away in your shop before he walked away, that, that was rude. but he doesn't know how to apologize right now.

"give it uuup, they obviously don't like you back if they support the idea of you with someone else. what a shaaaame~" ajaw sings in the background, following after him like a leech.

"they don't know, yet." kinich reasons, but ajaw was always the voice of unreason. "like you plan to let them know, just face it. either you confess and get rejected or never get the chance, you'll come out the loser both ways anyway." ajaw stuck his tongue out, and the urge within kinich to grab it and use it to fling the saurian as hard as he could was strong.

"heey, kinich !!!"

he stops in his tracks, looking back to see you rushing up to him. you panted, leaning on your knees to catch your breath when you reached a few feet away from him. you pat your pockets, looking for something only to groan. "damn it ! i ran all the way up here because you forgot the goods you needed to pick up for your commission, but i forgot them back at the shop myself." you curse, tousling your own hair in habit.

he watches you, his tense shoulders relaxing as he observed how you recovered your breath.

"gee, how do you move so quick ? i could barely run to save my life." you huff, hands on your hips. "then again, moving quick is basically how you make a living. . never mind. anyway, why'd you walk off; was it my comment ?" you ask with a nervous chuckle. "sorry, i was just messin' with you."

he doesn't mean to, but he lets out a huff of a laugh. "it's fine," he steps forward, closer than he means to. "sorry for walking off, if it's okay with you, i can walk back with you to get the items."

"i don't know mualani, are you sure about this ?" he asks, looking down at the bouquet in his hands, fixing up one of the leaves.

"they're gonna love it, trust me !" mualani cheers, "seriously, you should've told me you liked [name], i definitely would have set you up way sooner !"

kinich inspects the bouquet in his hands, mualani had it made for today specifically, so he technically owes her a favor. that aside, the bouquet has some of your favorite colors, but he can't help but think about how he's going to give it to you. he's planned it out meticulously, 70% on the investigation—finding out your favorite colors, flowers—, 10% on making the final decision, and the remainder on the execution. . which he hadn't thought about.

"what a pathetic display ! not only did you get them stupid flowers, but you don't even know how to give it to them." ajaw sticks his tongue out.

"i think it's cute ! the flowers are pretty, and i'm sure they're going to love them—" mualani's words of encouragement are cut off by a playful coo.

"ohoho, look at you two lovebirds." you chuckle, popping out from behind ajaw, and kinich nearly threw the bouquet in the farthest direction possible to divert the scene.

"oh, [name] !" mualani jumps as well, and the pair's fluster probably made the scene look more like what you had mistaken it as.

realizing this, mualani pushes kinich towards you, "oh no, no no no [name], you've definitely got the wrong idea !" she reasoned, grinning as she nudges kinich closer to you.

you, on the contrary, stand confused. "wait what ?"

kinich watches as you blink up at him in confusion, and he looks back at mualani in a rare moment of hesitation. he was certain, but he wasn't. if you supported the idea of him with another so much, then maybe there truly was no chance you had any romantic feelings for him—

"[name], kinich doesn't like me, he likes you !" mualani spoke for him, pushing him forward even more.

"huh ?!"

"well he has for a while now, but apparently even kinich feels shy sometimes ! he even had me help set you two up, had the whole date planned out for you two and everything !"

mualani was saying too much, she was saying everything kinich wanted to himself. it was all on impulse when he suddenly stepped forward and dragged you away from both mualani and ajaw, who blink at each other once you're both gone.

"kinich ?" you stumble after him, utterly confused.

"i'm—i'm sorry," kinich finally says when he stops both of you a good distance away. "mualani was saying everything, i couldn't get a word in."

your eyes widened, "wait, what do you mean ? what mualani was saying was—"

"if it's okay with you [name], i like you. i have for a while now, and i might for a long time."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ© amaiaqt, 2024 ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤdo not plagiarize !