#I have no idea if any of this makes sense

[lovelettersfromluna]

Under Your Spell

summary: what’s that old saying? Best way to get over someone is to get under…..yeah yeah, we all know where this going, don’t we?

an: Hi! Long time no see, huh? I hope you’ve all been doing well! I’ve missed it here a lot, more than you could ever know. The semester is over, and I’m finally free! (For a little bit). College is very hard, and it took a lot of me this year, but let’s not get into that right now. This chapter has been VERY long awaited, and I am so sorry that it’s taken this long to get to you all. This one is pretty short, but not only did I want to get it out to you all in time, but I also have lots planned for the next chapter! (Luna you’re putting four parts into one of your fics???) I know I know, shocker right? Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this past despite it being short! Love you 🤍🤍🤍

warnings: MDNI!, 18+ fic only, slight smut, lots of angst, mean!Ellie, idiot!Ellie??, Abby’s in this one hehe, making out, drinking, let me know if I missed anything!

Part 1, Part 2

Sleeping in your bed had become extremely difficult.

It was like every time you laid your head against the soft pillows, your skin sliding against the soft material of your sheets, your brain would be filled with images of Ellie. The feeling of her lips on your throat, her hands on your hips, everything she’d given to you was permanently burned into your memory.

You couldn’t get away from her, no matter what you did.

You let out a soft sigh as you sat at your old desk, your cheek resting against your palm as your fingers traced along the smooth material of the wood. Things had gotten a lot trickier after your last night with Ellie, your mind clouded with confusion regarding the entire ordeal.

Ellie had….sought out for you. She definitely did the first time but there was something about her coming home from a night out, and slipping into your sheets that had your mind in shambles. It didn’t make any sense, you were sure that whatever happened between you and Ellie was a one off, something that was influenced mainly by alcohol and forced proximity. The played out story of the brother’s best friend ending up in a sticky situation with the younger sister. It was cliche, but it happened.

That didn’t change that it left your stomach in knots every time you heard the floorboards creak near Ellie’s room.

You’d done a pretty good job at avoiding her and the entire situation. It meant that you were in complete and total lockdown, even worse than before, however it saved any awkward tension, which you’d much rather trade for a few months of complete isolation.

But as all good things did, it was coming to an end.

Because you were given a choice, one that dangled your pride, and your social life in your face, forcing you to choose which you valued more.

Every summer, a huge party was thrown down at the beach. You and your brother joined as soon as you were old enough to drink, your parents went when they were younger, their parents went, and nearly everyone in your town experienced it at least once. It was like a tradition, one that every young person would look forward to.

It was one of your favorite parts about being home for the summer.

However, there wasn’t a party thrown in town that your brother and Ellie wouldn’t join.

And that’s where your choice came in.

You’d been going back and forth with yourself all week, weighing out the pros and the cons of it all. You knew that there were ways to get around her, to make sure that you wouldn’t see here while you were out there. To top it all off, you hated the idea of letting Ellie rip away one of your favorite things to do while you were home, giving her that much power didn’t make any sense to you.

But you still couldn’t push yourself to do it.

You swiveled your chair back and forth, staring up at your ceiling as you struggled to make a decision. However the clock was ticking, and the party was officially happening tonight. You didn’t have much time to go back and forth with yourself anymore.

It was either you swallow your pride, go out and enjoy yourself for the first time since everything happened with Ellie, ultimately standing up for yourself and sending her a big fuck you while doing so…

Or

You let her win. You sacrifice your time there and you let Ellie steal your time. You let her make a fool out of you by being too hung up on the very weird attention she’d been giving you, and you stay in your room for yet another night while everyone else is having the time of their lives.

Thinking of it that way didn’t leave you much of an option, did it?

You practically rip your room apart looking for the perfect outfit to wear, which ends up being a pink halter top that flows down a bit at the ends, a pair of your favorite denim shorts and your sneakers. By the time you’re finishing up your hair and your makeup, you hear the faint sound of your brothers minions showing up, pairing that with the music that starts playing leaves you to figuring they’re probably pregaming before they leave.

That’s when it starts feeling real.

You let out a deep sigh as you stare in the mirror, fixing your top over your chest before fluffing out your hair and fixing your lip gloss, giving yourself a gentle affirming nod before you push your phone into your back pocket and head downstairs.

A blanket of silence falls between Derek and his friends when they notice you, multiple sets of eyes zeroing in on you as you slip between your brother and one of his friends silently to pour a shot before throwing it back with ease. Hazels the first to comment on it.

“Awe man, I didn’t think the first grader could hang….you joining us tonight sweetie?” She taunts, her perfect teeth pressing down into her plush bottom lip as she stares at you, a challenging look in her eye.

Derek is the next one to speak up, a surprised look on his face as he stares down at you. “Wait…really? You’re coming with us?” He quips hopefully. Had Hazel kept her fucking mouth shut, you probably would’ve found the sentiment sweet from him.

You inhale deeply to calm yourself, staring down into the empty shot glass before you finally raise your eyes to look at Hazel, only to find her standing across the island, her back pressed into Ellie’s chest as her tattooed hands toy with the exposed skin of Hazel’s waist.

You completely ignore Ellie’s eyes burning holes into you.

“Shut the fuck up Hazel” you bite back before pouring another shot.

Your words earns reactions from the group instantly, even your brother chuckling softly as he gives you a proud smile. Hazel however, is not amused in the slightest.

Her poker face drops for a moment, nostrils flaring as she stares you down like she wants to jump over the table and have you for herself, but she quickly picks it up, giving you an impressed smirk before she nods slowly.

“Ahh so she speaks…my apologies sweetheart” she practically grits out before she lets out an annoyed sigh.

“Let’s go then. I don’t wanna be late” she quickly seethes out, pushing herself out of Ellie’s arms so she can grab her purse that was sitting on the couch.

You trail behind the others after your brother reassures you things will be okay, giving him a soft smile as you all pile into his car, ultimately missing the way Ellie’s eyes trail you the entire times

The car ride there feels nostalgic. The summer breeze turns cooler the closer you get to the familiar beach, your brother blasting his music in the front as you rest your head against the edge of the window, letting the wind blow through your hair.

It makes you wish things were different. The warmth in your chest would’ve paired so well with a better crowd, one that didn’t see you as the annoying little sister that tagged along when she really shouldn’t be.

Your mind takes you to an alternate reality where things are different, one where you get along with your brother’s friends. You wonder if they’d like you if they gave you the chance, if they weren’t predisposed to not liking you simply because you’re younger than them…

You wonder if things had been different, if you and Ellie could’ve been something.

Because clearly there’s attraction there, there had to be. Were you so wrong for even letting your brain wander there? Wondering what life would be like if you and Ellie were cordial, let alone experimenting with a relationship in a normal way, and not the way you’d been going on for this past summer.

What would it be like if she treated you the way she treated Hazel while others were around? What would it be like if you were in Hazel’s position? Propped up in Ellie’s lap while the others sang songs and joked around with each other?

You’d never know, because you were in this reality, not a perfect one.

You don’t even realize when your brother pulls up to the beach. The gentle shake of the car as his friends practically run out is what rips you away from your thoughts. You clear your throat as you make your way out once everyone is gone, brushing down your outfit as you make your way down the familiar path to the beach. The beach is blossoming with the sound of life. Loud music quickly surrounds you, people dancing, swimming, drinking, it’s almost so perfect it feels cliche, and that alone reminds you that you’d made the right decision by deciding to come out.

You’re the moth, and the ocean is your flame.

It draws you in closer as you sip the drink from your solo cup, appreciating the pattern of the tide rolling in, wetting the sand beneath it, only to then pull back out shortly after. It’s what you’d missed most about the beach in your home town, its ability to calm you no matter what was almost remarkable, even with the crowd of people around you.

You have to stop yourself from walking too far down the beach, knowing deep down that Derek’s friends would take any chance to ditch you while we’re oblivious to what was going on. It’s how you end up out on one of the piers, your legs dangling over the edge as you stare up at the moon, watching as the waves roll in while you sip on your drink.

There’s heavy footsteps along the wooden pier, ones that you don’t quite catch between the heavy sound of the waves, and the music nearby. It isn’t until a familiar voice rings in your ear that you realize you’re not alone.

“You know I heard you were back in town….but I thought there’s no way you’d come back without texting me first” the words come from behind you, and your eyes widen once you catch the tall frame standing over you.

Abby Anderson

She was one of your closest friends back in elementary school. It wasn’t nice to admit, but you’d drifted apart once you both got to high school. It was in the most natural way possible, but she always managed to stick around in your mind from time to time.

Before all of that, you two were stuck at the hip. It was a similar friendship to Ellie and your brother, the two of you always running through your house, causing many headaches for both your parents and her parents whenever you were both together.

You hadn’t seen Abby in years since you left for college, it’d been so long that you didn’t even realize how long it had been.

Her physique was quite the sign that time had passed though.

You gasp softly when you realize it’s her, quickly pushing yourself up off the pier to push yourself into her already opened arms.

“I didn’t know you came back for the summer…god it’s been so long” you sigh out against her broad shoulders, the sweet smell of her perfume filling your nose as you let your eyes flutter shut, relishing in the feeling of her strong arms wrapping around your waist.

“You’d know if you thought to hit me up once in a while” she teases. You can hear the smirk in her voice as she keeps you close. It makes you giggle softly as you finally pull away from her, wanting to get a good look at the girl.

She’s just as pretty as you remember. Abby always had the prettiest blonde hair, and the most charming smile. Those were never things that you failed to notice about your friend, however she’s different now. She’s taller, her build a hell of a lot more stronger than when you were in elementary school, her hair longer and tucked into a thick braid…

You have to stop yourself from staring.

She peers down into your cup, noticing that you were getting empty. She nods her head towards the bonfire before speaking.

“Let’s top you up while you tell me alllll about your life in the big city, yeah?” She offers, to which you dumbly nod to as you follow next to her almost obediently.

After that, the two of you were glued to the hip the entire night. Between catching up on what life had brought the two of you within your adult years, and reminiscing over your time as kids, the world could be burning around the both of you and you two wouldn’t have noticed a thing. For the first time since you’d came home, you had finally found someone to spend time with.

And Ellie notices the entire thing.

Her eyes were on you the entire night. From the moment you came downstairs at the house, it was like she was under some fucked up spell that made it so she couldn’t function unless you were in her line of view. She couldn’t count on her hands how many annoyed sighs she received when her friends realized she wasn’t listening to what they were saying, instead busying herself with figuring out where the hell you were.

She tracked you like she was the predator, and you were her prey. She made sure you didn’t stray too far away from the group, made sure you didn’t do something stupid like strip naked to take a quick dip into the cold ocean. She was just being helpful! It wasn’t like she felt her mouth go dry every time it looked like someone was going to approach you….

And its like fate was on your side that night, because the moment Abby approached you at the dock, Hazel was settling herself into Ellie’s lap, toying with the hair at the nape of her neck and ultimately blocking you from her view completely.

The next time she does get a chance to see you again, you’re wrapped up in none other than Abby Anderson’s arms.

It’s just her luck, isn’t it? That out of every girl in your small beachside town, you choose that fucking idiot. You choose the girl that everyone knows to be Ellie’s sworn fucking enemy since forever. The only explanation is that you’re doing this on purpose. You know exactly what to do to get under Ellie’s skin. You did it when you were flirting with Jesse right in front of her, you did it when you kicked her out of your bedroom the last time you two were together, and you were doing it right fucking now by getting all cozy with Abby fucking Anderson.

So of course, she has to try and stop this.

But Ellie soon realizes that she spends way too much time mentally dwelling over this, and accusing you of something she knew deep down was very much out of character for you, because the second her eyes search for the two of you, she’s met with something she can only assume was pulled out of her worst nightmare.

You and Abby hand in hand as she helps you into her car.

Ellie is quick to push Hazel off her lap, her eyes now frantically searching for your brother. Once she spots him, she’s interrupting his conversation the moment she opens her mouth.

“Hey man…have you um….do know where your sisters going right now?” She asks almost out of breath, her eyes shifting quickly between Derek and Abby’s truck as she pulls out of her spot in the parking lot.

Your brother raises his eyebrows as he looks back to where you are in the girls car, nodding as he takes a sip of his drink. “Yeah, she just came and told me her friend is gonna take her home” he explains casually with a shrug before he tries to turn back to his conversation.

Ellie scoffs in disbelief at his casual tone, her hand reaching forward to grab his shoulder and turn him around to face her again.

“Friend? Did you even see who she was leaving with?” Her voice is laced with worry and distress as she complains to your brother, the man oblivious to Ellie’s frantic demeanor.

“Wasn’t it just Abby? They’ve been friends forever…I honestly don’t trust anyone other than that girl. Have you seen her fucking arms? I think my sister is in good hands with her” he chuckles softly as he gives Ellie’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Between his words and his reaction to the entire thing, Ellie feels like she’s going to lose her fucking mind.

Her green eyes go wide as she stares at your brother before she gives a laugh of disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me? It’s just Abby? As in Abby fucking Anderson? Are we talking about the same girl here? Or are you suffering from fucking brain damage?” She snaps back.

Her wild eyes and mean words take your brother back, his playful laughter dying down once he realizes that he friend is quite literally tweaking over the fact that you’ve left with the girl that he knew she had some beef with.

“Woah…calm down man. It’s just my sister, your beef with Anderson doesn’t really have anything to do with her…she’ll be fine” he tries to assure her once more, his tone softening to calm his friend.

This does nothing though. It makes Ellie pinch the bridge of her nose in annoyance as she shakes her head. “Give me your keys” she demands with her palm out, pushed towards him.

Derek furrows his brows in confusion. “What? Are you seriously going to-“ he’s quickly cut off by Ellie, stopping him from finishing his question.

“Give me your fucking keys Derek. I’m not letting that asshole get it in with your sister” she finally admits, her words making your brothers eyes go wide with realization, finally seeing the situation for what it really was.

He inhales deeply before he reaches into his pocket and finally places his keys into his friends hand without another word, biting back the smirk that threatened to grace his lips.

He always thought Ellie’s animosity towards you was weird, but he never thought it would mean this all along.

She doesn’t even notice, the girl quickly taking the keys and mumbling a small ‘thanks’ as she jogs up the path to the parking lot to jump into your brothers car, and race home.

Meanwhile at your house, Abby was showing you quite the time.

It didn’t take long for you two to give into the tension that had settled the moment she picked you up from the dock. One moment you were toying with the little loose hairs falling from her braid and framing her face, and the next you were tugging her up to your bedroom and locking the door behind you.

Her hands were all over you, caressing your body as her knee began grinding into your core, her lips swallowing up your moans as you clung to her desperately, chasing your high as if your life depended on it.

The feeling of Abby against you cleared Ellie out of your head almost immediately. You weren’t worried about her or the mean things she’d said to you, or the nasty way she’d treated you after getting what she wanted from you. What once was a bed that you could barely sleep in without thinking of her was now filled with the feeling of Abby, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Ellie realizes she’s too late when she pulls into your driveway to see Abby’s truck is still there, and she has to stop herself from ripping your brothers car door off when she gets out and slams it closed. There’s still something in her that hopes this is all innocent, that you didn’t really do the unthinkable and take Abby Anderson home to spite her. She hopes that the sweet side of you has taken the moral high ground, that you’ve gone to bed like the good girl she knows you are and Abby just happened to walk home and leave her car in your driveway.

So when she’s jogging on the stairs after frantically searching for you downstairs, hoping that she’ll find you sound asleep in your bed, her blood practically runs cold when her hand wraps around your doorknob…

And she can make out the familiar sounds of your moans through your door, paired with Abby’s words of encouragement to go with it.

[retrosabers]

𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐝.

FICMAS DAY 5 - UNWRAPPING

A RETROSABERS X PANDAPETALS DOUBLE FEATURE

old man logan x fem!reader

summary: logan didn’t believe in exchanging christmas presents. so, you offer him something you know he can’t refuse. a night where’s he’s free to have you all to himself.

contains: 18+ content below the cut. MINORS DNI. making out, some dry humping if you squint, oral (fem receiving), implied age gap, a dash of angst, swearing

word count: 2.6k

a/n: you thought i’d let a whole season pass without a little taste of some festive smut? absolutely hilarious. this is my first time writing for old man logan, and i think i did pretty alright considering i have yet to watch the movie (i’m terrified of the pain it will bring)

any feedback is always greatly appreciated!

also, don’t be confused by the fact that this says day 5 when i still haven’t posted day 4, i’m writing these bad boys out of order

and finally, a huge shoutout & thanks to the wildly talented @pandapetals for agreeing to do a little collaboration! please go check out her blog and all of her amazing work! <3

FIND HER PART HERE

!! divider by @estrelinha-s !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

“are you sure your eyes are closed?”

logan grunts. “they’re closed, darlin’. promise.”

he’s been sitting here for almost fifteen minutes now, waiting for you to bring out this so-called “surprise.” from the ambient lighting and freshly washed bed sheets, the man thinks he’s got a general idea of what it is, but you’ve been fiddling in the bathroom too long for him to be certain.

still, he appeases you, and waits patiently at the foot of your bed. even if it’s a little bit uncomfortable on his knees.

meanwhile you’re fussing over every little detail of your appearance in the groggy bathroom mirror.

this was your solution to getting around logan’s “i don’t need anything for christmas” rule. you always begrudgingly abided by it, save for the box of cigars that always mysteriously turnt up in his nightstand on christmas eve. you knew he could never turn it down, no matter how much he tried.

logan could never say no to a smoke break with a nice pack of cubans. and he most certainly couldn’t say no to you.

that's how you decided upon this whole scheme. dolling yourself up and donning a new set of lingerie themed to the occasion, knowing logan had no leg to stand on. because technically, you didn’t buy anything for him. you bought this for you. he just so happened to be the person who was going to help take it off.

or rip it off, knowing your man’s track record of impatience and eagerness.

you share the exact same sentiment, though your tendency to be anile overpowers all else. you know it doesn’t matter if you have a hair or two out of place, or if your lips are slightly over lined. perfection never mattered to logan, but it still didn’t stop you from doing everything in your power to be pretty damn close to it tonight.

even if it meant making him wait a few extra minutes.

you pay your reflection one final glance before sauntering out into the bedroom.

he smells you before he hears you.

your scent wafting into the room captures his attention more than anything else. logan’s senses may not be as keen as they once were, but the fragrance of you was something utterly unmistakable. a sweet yet sultry aroma that he ached to have on his skin, his clothes, anywhere, to keep him grounded. to remind himself that you were real and you were his. it only adds to the anticipation building inside, the mere seconds he has to wait dragging on like hours in his mind.

a wave of lust overtakes you as logan comes into view. somehow just the sight of him is enough to send a bout of arousal down to your core.

that crisp white dress shirt he always wears is unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up to reveal those chiseled forearms you love to have wrapped around you. the soft glow of the lamp on the bedside table illuminates the weathered curves of his face so beautifully. a contrast to the ruggedness of his position; legs lazily spread wide and long, thick fingers tapping mindlessly against his thigh.

the picture of a real man. and he’s all yours for the taking.

the sound of your footsteps padding against the floor grows louder. obediently, logan’s eyes stay shut, despite the fact that the other aroma you carry is hot and heavy in his nostrils. his upper lip twitches with a knowing smirk.

so this is exactly what he had in mind.

on instinct, his thighs spread even further when he senses your approach, hands itching to find their place on you somehow. when your own stay glued to your sides, he takes that as his cue to do the same.

logan really hates to admit it, but there’s something about this little bit of mystery that’s got him going before you’ve even begun.

“you ready?” your voice comes out breathy, and if logan didn’t know any better he’d think you’re nervous. and truth be told, you were. not that logan wouldn’t get his kicks, you were certain of that. more so that you’d be unable to walk come tomorrow morning.

though neither of you would consider it a bad thing

“yes ma’am,” he grumbles in response, knowing exactly the effect it has on you. the cockiness on his face is inevitable when he hears your breath hitch.

tease. if that’s how he wants to play, you’re in for a long night.

with a quiet sigh, you splay your fingers over the expanse of his broad shoulders. the man takes it as permission, calloused palms wrapping around your calves and not daring to travel any further. he knows he’ll lose any remaining self control if he gets so much as an inch closer to the apex of your thighs.

“okay.” you murmur. “you can open your eyes.”

slowly, those dark irises begin to drink you in. his grip on you tightens as soon as he gets the whole picture, a visible tent forming in his dress slacks almost immediately.

logan thought you were the most beautiful women he’s ever seen under any conditions. didn’t matter if you were sick, if you were bare faced, none of that changed how otherworldly you looked in his eyes. but nothing, and i mean nothing, compared to the sight of you before him right now.

you look like something out of a dream. hair styled in a way that drives him particularly crazy, makeup done to highlight your features so elegantly in the dim light. the best, and quite possibly logan’s favorite part, however, is that your lips are painted a shade of red to perfectly match the ensemble adorning your body. it sparks a slideshow of rather lewd images in his brain, wanting the color scattered across his cheek, his chest, his cock. anywhere you’re willing to brand him.

he’s committed every inch of you to memory by now. countless nights of exploring, mapping out your curves with hand and tongue. and still, everytime he sees you like this, practically offering yourself on a silver platter, he can’t help but stare back as though this is the very first time.

especially when that crimson silk is accentuating your figure so nicely.

“do you like it?” you ask coyly, bottom lip tucked between your teeth like you’re not fully aware of the power you have over him.

logan scoffs out a laugh, dragging his hands higher and higher until they tug at your hips, pulling you to straddle his lap in one swift motion. you squeak at the sudden display of strength, forgetting that despite his age, he was still infinitely stronger than any man you’ve ever met.

even beneath the layers of fabric between you, the sheer size of him was impossible to ignore. fuck, and he wasn’t even fully hard. you bite back a moan at the outline of his length pressed between your legs.

“that answer your question?” he quips back lowly, smirking smugly.

you hum in content, pressing your hands further into his shoulders as you experimentally grind your hips. the pair of you preen at the contact, desperate for any form of relief after being pent up and waiting.

“careful,” logan grits out in warning. “gonna cum in my pants like a fuckin’ teenager if you keep that up.”

you tsk in response, cocking your head with faux concern. “can’t have that, now can we?”

logan shakes his head at your antics, eyes wandering back over your body once more. before tonight, his favorite set of lingerie you owned was a black lacy number. simple and classic. but the more time he spends inspecting what’s currently adorning your frame, the more he thinks that red might be his new favorite color.

something warm spills over him when he glances at your chest again. something different than what he normally experiences every time he catches a glimpse of your cleavage, anyways.

“is that a bow?” he questions, a little bit amused.

you let out a soft giggle, nodding in reply.

“wanted you to be able to unwrap your present.”

you can count the amount of times logan has laughed, really truly laughed, on one hand. and as much as it sounds like music to your ears, you’re rather confused as to why he’s laughing right now.

“what’s so funny?” you huff, brows knit together and bottom lip jutted in a near pout.

logan averts your inquiry, burying his face in your neck so you can’t see him grinning like an idiot. instead, he busies himself with dragging his lips up and down the column of your throat, reveling in the breathy moans spilling from your lips with each and every press against your skin.

from the moment you met logan howlett, you fantasized about that salt and pepper beard. longed to feel the delicious sting of scruff against every part of you. as addicting as it is, the sensation isn’t enough to keep you completely distracted.

“logan,” you whine, titling your head back to grant him more access. “m’serious.”

he doesn’t halt his ministrations, too consumed with making sure your neck is painted every shade of lavender under the sun. he only stops when you rake your fingers in his hair and physically pull him off, much to both your dismays.

you give him a look. that pursed lips, narrow eyed “what aren’t you saying to me” look that signals he’s going to have to fess up to whatever’s on his mind, or else the evening would be coming to an end right here and now. from the way he’s about to burst through the zipper on his dress slacks, you know he’s not considering weighing options.

logan sighs heavily. if you didn’t know all the variations of the sound, you’d think he was upset with you. but that was far from how the older man felt. he begins to examine your face, observing everything from the slopes of your bone structure, to the color of your irises. he studies your features like an artisan in a gallery, content on not missing a single detail.

after a moment, the corners of his mouth turn up a hair. eyes almost dopey; filled with a lovesickness he never thought could be possible.

“you’re somethin’ else, y’know that?” he murmurs into the air, rough fingertips tracing back and forth across your spine.

you speak the language of logan fluently, knowing exactly what the underlying message of his words were. in reality, he was saying, “what did i do in this life to deserve you? will you ever know how much i love you? i hope you’ll be mine for as long as you’ll have me.”

suddenly his round of laughter from before rings brighter in your ears.

instead of saying another word, you guide his face to yours, connecting your lips in a silent understanding.

logan always kisses you like a man starved, devouring you whole as though every kiss may be the last. there was nothing tame, or tender about the man they once called the wolverine, but you managed to slip between the cracks of his stony disposition, and bring forth all the parts of himself he swore he lost decades ago.

your hands encircle around the back of his neck, logan’s squeezing at the flesh of your hips. he pulls you impossibly closer, pressing the swell of your chest against his own. the feeling of your nipples pebbling through velvet fabric reminds him of the true nature of your current situation.

tonight was for him. his pleasure, his enjoyment. he knew you’d be heavily dissatisfied if he didn’t indulge in what you were offering.

and what kind of man would logan be, if he disappointed his sweet girl?

you’re not expecting him to be so gentle when he turns and flips you over, mouth never once leaving yours. a large hand spread across your back as he lowers you down onto the mattress with a care reserved for you and only you. a fact that adds to your current state of arousal. your legs open like second nature, and logan slots himself between them as though that’s where he was always meant to be.

the whine that leaves you when he pulls away would be embarrassing if it weren’t for the hunger in his stare. those normally hazel pupils now a brownish black that overshadowed bright white. he sits back on his haunches, glazing over your pretty little lingerie with a newfound appreciation.

he reaches to toy with the end of the bow tied snugly between your breasts, a teasing invitation that he graciously accepts.

at a tantalizing pace, he begins to unwrap his present, watching with lustful eyes as more and more skin becomes exposed. you arch your back the slightest bit to get the job done faster, the shoe of impatience now snug on your foot instead of his.

normally, logan would scold, spit something about “being a good girl and waiting.” but he’s just as riled up and eager as you are, and he gives the velvet one final tug that has your breasts springing free.

god you were absolute perfection.

he can’t resist running a thumb over your erect nipples, reveling in the way you squirm over such a small touch. your color coated lips swollen and shiny from his kisses. body already relaxed and pliant, willing to do whatever he so pleases.

a few minutes ago, he would’ve torn your outfit off without second thought and shown no mercy. let the shitty week he was having take control, guide him through the motions of achieving pleasure. but something inside logan urges him to be a little sentimental; take his sweet time on the off chance that he wakes up and discovers this was all a dream.

so he decides that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

the path down to your core was a familiar one, a route he knew like the back of his hand. sloppy, wet kisses trail down your stomach, a small crack in logan’s otherwise composed exterior. by the time he reaches the hem of your panties, tongue teasing beneath the waistband, you’re bursting at the seams with desire, unable to stop yourself from whimpering and bucking your hips upward.

“i gotcha honey,” he whispers against the inside of your thigh, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. “m’gonna take real good care of ya.”

logan knew you were soaked the second you walked into the room. didn’t need to see or feel it to know. still, he indulges his ego and stares proudly at the dark patch in the center of your underwear. knowing it was all his doing, that he was the only one who could get you like this.

when he pulls the fabric to the side and is met with your glistening folds, he can’t help the groan that rumbles in his chest.

“merry fuckin’ christmas to me,” he all but growls before diving right in.

it’s in moments like these where he wishes that photographic memory was his mutation, though he doubts he’ll ever forget this. his perfect girl, laid out so delicately beneath him, basking in the pale moonlight that seeped in between the curtains. his own personal utopia, paradise within the four walls of this rickety building you called home.

logan wonders if maybe he’s finally succumbed to the poison in his bones. because this sure does feel like heaven.

at the very least, it most definitely feels like christmas.

because having the privilege of watching you come undone was the gift that kept on giving all year round.

thanks for reading! <3

taglist: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals @hextech-bros

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

[heavenorhella2001]

This had never occurred to me way back when when I first watched playthroughs of the game/played it myself, but;

Seeing this post made me remember Max's meltdown, when she was trapped in her own mind/a broken version of reality.

And seeing this now?

Max definitely has PTSD.

Everyone always primarily discusses/ focuses on Chloe's trauma (which is understandable. I'll always be a Chloe defender and don't want to downplay her trauma by any means.)

But, unfortunately, Max's is overlooked.

Now, a lot of people might view this skeptically, question the idea of Max having PTSD. To many, it might seem like Max doesn't really have any lasting form of major trauma after the events of the game. Maybe she really was content and at peace and happy-go-lucky. (I've always scoffed at that scene at Chloe's funeral, when Max smiles at the butterfly.) And I'll admit, within the context of the story maybe we aren't supposed to think so. But if that's the case I just have to assume that's due to the developing team's lack of knowledge, experience with mental health and how it works, the impact things like this have on someone. Not that they are coming from a malicious place, of course. But very rarely does a person 'get it' unless they've been through it themselves. The average person simply won't understand.

But if you see everything I've described here as it's laid out, it makes total sense;

Let's talk about Jefferson. He is just one of many elements in the game contributing to Max's trauma. He was her teacher, someone she looked up to, respected, and was supposed to be able to trust. She truly felt safe around him. It's implied she had a crush on him. But her image of him completely shattered. After the truth about him was revealed, she was no longer able to trust her own judgement of people, her perception of reality.

He drugged her when she was vulnerable, and she was helpless to watch as he shot and killed the love of her life right in front of her. He kidnapped her, and she was thrown from the frying pan right into the fire. When she woke up she was tied up in a basement, helpless, and he had burned all her photos. Not only precious memories, but also one of her only means of going back and fixing things. He then took photos of her, over and over, this went on for who knows how long, while she was drugged, tied up and helpless, in order to satisfy his own perversions. Throughout, he mocked and tormented her.

Then, let's go into what happened with Chloe. Having to watch her best friend, the girl she loved, die over and over and over again. Max felt responsible for fixing it, preventing it, because she was the only one who possibly could. She would blame herself, think of it as a failure on her part each time Chloe died.

After watching her die in various ways, so many times, I'm sure Max questioned if she really even could save Chloe- or if Chloe was supposed to die from the start, and the universe was determined to restore the balance, no matter what Max did or how hard she tried.

And then there's Kate. This could go one of two ways depending on your choices, one of which is infinitely worse and more traumatizing, but either way it would definitely have haunted Max and left an impact on her.

Imagine how you would feel, knowing one of your closest friends was being bullied. Knowing they have been drunk/drugged and taken advantage of at a party. Yet instead of anyone coming forward, doing the right thing and helping Kate out of that situation, everyone at the party instead weaponized it, used it against her, slut-shamed her even though she wasn't in her right mind, was barely even conscious and was in no way able to consent to anything that was happening. Not that slut-shaming her would have in any way been okay or excusable even if Kate was acting of her own volition. Knowing that, even though you don't agree/don't identify with that, that your friend is deeply religious and clings to faith as a means of comfort. Knowing that she feels like a failure, that she feels like she's betrayed her faith, everything she stands for, and her family, even though she was in fact a victim in her situation. Being able to read letters, watching her family victim-blame her, hide behind their beliefs as a means to tear down someone they should feel obligated to protect, to support. Watching your friend be alienated by everyone around her, including her own family. Watching the school bullies write obscenities about your friend on the walls, and in the bathroom, make jabs at her and taunt her at every possible opportunity. Your friend's light has begun to dim, she starts pulling away from you, begins hiding away in her room more, which now feels like a dark, oppresive void. You know your friend is depressed, and you're trying to be supportive in any way you can, but there's a distance building between you you feel you can't bridge.

Then it happens. She kills herself/tries to kill herself. In front of you, and everyone who tormented her. Even then, the people who hurt her have no shame, laughing and recording her when she's in crisis. You begin to question and blame yourself, blaming youself for not noticing something was severely wrong earlier, not recognizing the impending signs for what they were. You want to help your friend, to save her, but your powers at failing you at the worst possible time. You only get one chance to do this, like everyone else, and you have to do it the right way.

If Max managed to talk Kate down, that's still an instense emotional weight, still a serious event to work through and process.

If Kate jumps…well…

Max feels like a failure. Like she contributed to Kate's death just as much as everyone else. Like she may as well have pushed Kate off that ledge herself. Not only watching your friend die in front of you, but knowing that it was self-inflicted in a moment of desperation, that they chose to do so and your words had no effect…

Now, the end of the game. Depending on what you choose, Max either has to to feel an immeasurable weight on her conscience, the responsibility for the destruction of the town where she was born. Where she grew up. Where she has countless memories, despite its' faults. The deaths of almost everyone there she's ever known.

Including (especially) Joyce.

The guilt of feeling like she took Chloe's mom away from her too, after Chloe had already lost her dad.

Oh. And that reminds me.

It was an incredible miracle, Max discovering her ability to go back through time via photos. Being able to go back 5 years, to when she and Chloe were only 13, before all the horror had happened, and save William. The sense of sheer relief, happiness and accomplishment she felt. She felt like a hero.

Only for it to all blow up in her face in the worst possible way.

Seeing Chloe, now a total shell of her former self. Completely disabled, and paralyzed. Helpless. Unable to live on her own. Seeing firsthand the emotional and financial stress William and Joyce are going through as a result of the accident. Chloe having so little quality of life that she pleads with Max to kill her, because she can't even do it herself.

(This is not my narrative or opinion on Chloe's situation, by the way. This is how it's portrayed. Quality of life, determining whether your life is worth living to due a life-changing accident or consequent disability is the choice of the invidual whom it effects. I'm not saying that anyone in Chloe's situation, who is paralyzed would inherently have no quality of life or no reason to live. That really depends on the invidiual, what that person needs in order to truly live and thrive, whether that person has family and friends and an emotional/practical support system in their life, etc. For Chloe, for me, and for many other people, though not all, living that kind of life would not be worth it.)

Max, depending on your choices, having to kill Chloe, to choose the merciful path, allow Chloe to exercise her autonomy in a world in which she can no longer do so and put her out of her misery. Knowing that she's doing for Chloe what she'd want someone to do for her if she were in that situation, yet still full of pain and regrets.

Max then having to go back and undo it all. Allow William to die again. Watch Chloe experience that horror and trauma again, knowing now she could've prevented it. But at what cost?

Lastly, if you chose to let Chloe go. To let her die.

That makes it immeasurably worse in my opinion.

The week she and Chloe spent together, reconnecting and rebulding their friendship, everything they went through together, would essentially never have happened.

Chloe, in this timeline, died alone in a bathroom. She never recieved any sort of closure, never got to know what happened to Rachel, questioning if Rachel perhaps just abandoned her, similarly to how Max did.

She never got to resolve things with Max, never heard from her again. She never got to know that Max still loved her, still cared about her and thought of her, but was too scared and guilty to reach out.

She never got to patch up things with her mom, or with David.

Everything Max went through. Everything she experienced.

To recap:

Having to watch her best friend, the woman she loves, die over and over again, feeling helpless, trapped in this endless, hellish cycle of death.

Being lulled into a false sense of security, betrayed and abducted by someone she thought she could trust, someone she looked up to.

Witnessing firsthand Kate's suicide/attempt, feeling like she failed her.

Being forced to let William die again, and force Joyce and Chloe to suffer that loss again.

Having to watch Joyce mourn her only daughter, after already losing her husband. Knowing she could've prevented it.

Everything that happened would still exist, but only in Max's mind.

She has no one she could ever confide in, talk to, or open up about it.

Chloe, for her, was that person.

No one would believe her, albeit understandably.

It's implied her powers vanish after she goes back that final time to let Chloe die.

She'd have no way to prove her story was true.

Carrying the weight of that burden, that knowledge and trauma, alone, would drive anyone insane.

Feeling like everything she went through, all the efforts she made to keep Chloe alive, were pointless.

I don't believe there is any way Max could be okay after that.

She'd be a hollow shell, just going through the motions. Totally disconnected from the world and the people around her. (Understandably. Who the hell could she connect to? Who would understand her?) Everyone at Blackwell, and their student lives and petty drama would feel so insignificant. So incredibly stupid and shallow to Max after what she's been through.

In fact, I've always felt - years after the events of the game, were you to choose to let Chloe die - that Max likely killed herself.

Over time, she probably began to question herself, to feel crazy, and begin wondering whether any of what happened, actually did, or if it was just something her mind created.

Max's trauma, her thoughts and emotions in regards to all of this are reflected in this part of the game, her mental breakdown. You can see her self-loathing, the way she blames and criticizes herself, in her interactions with herself and in her distorted journal entries.

Anyway. I never really liked Max all that much as a protagonist.

I thought she was a pushover, a little shallow, cared too much about what people like Victoria thought of her. I thought it was pretty unforgivable the way she ghosted Chloe, at the most traumatic, formative time of Chloe's life, when she had just lost the most important person in her life, besides Max. I understand anxiety, feeling awkward, helpless and flailing in that situation and not knowing what to say or do to make it better, but it just doesn't matter to me. Nothing excuses that.

However…

Max, did ultimately (well, depending on your choice at the ending,) make it right.

This has given me some perspective, and I have a lot more empathy for her now.

     you thought you could control everybody and everything, huh?      —   twist time around your fingers?

[burnforyou]

ALL MINE - LUIGI MAGIONE x READER

!SUMMARY! your ex boyfriend Luigi buys you a drink and the rest is history!! cheating (reader, not luigi), smut!!!, both receive head, face riding (emphasis on the nose) use of the L word, creampie, kinda breeding but not really.

"can i buy you a drink?” a familiar voice asks from behind you.

you turn on the bar stool and you’re met with the face of your ex boyfriend smirking down at you. you instinctively smile at the sight of his face.

“buy away.” he calls the bartender over and orders you your favorite drink. he still remembers.

“what brings you here tonight?” he asks, leaning on the bar. he looks almost ravishing in the deep red lighting.

“just wanted a break from it all,” you sigh, studying the bottles behind the bar.

“what’s bothering you?” he peers down at you but you don't look at him. "hm?"

“just my stupid fucking boyfriend. and school.”

“you’re still with that loser?” the bartender slides your drink in front of you and you immediately take a couple big gulps. you need to be buzzed to be around him without wanting to cry.

“unfortunately.”

“you should leave him.” he whispers in your ear, his breath making your nerves tingle. "does he know you're here tonight?"

"nope," you shrug, still looking down at your drink. luigi swings his arm around your shoulders like he's done a thousand times before, pulling you into his warmth. instantly you forget about your boyfriend and all you can think about is how close you are. how if you turned your head just a few inches, your lips would brush.

"do you know how badly I've missed you?" he says deeply. his eyes burn into your skin and you turn your head to look at him.

"can we go somewhere more private to talk?" you propose. his stomach turns at the thought of being alone with you.

"yeah, good idea. I'll order us an Uber, if that's alright." you nod and turn back to your friend, telling her you're leaving with him.

"you ready?" he asks, holding out his hand for you.

"mmhmm," you nod, putting your hand in his. he helps you off the bar stool and you get an overwhelming sense of Deja Vu. it all feels so familiar, so right, you didn't even know you missed it. he leads you through the crowd, towering over most of the people there.

he led you out into the cold night and you shivered as the sudden wind hit your uncovered skin.

"you don't have a jacket, do you?" he looked at you, his eyes full of concern. you shook your head, your teeth beginning to chatter. you rubbed your arms with your hands, trying to generate any form of heat.

"oh, cm'here," he says, pulling you into him. he wraps his arm around your neck and the other around your waist, sharing his body heat with you. you try to wrap your arms around him, but can't completely just because of how large he truly is. you rest your head on his chest, close your eyes, and breathe.

unfortunately, his very public display of affection, his smell, his size, his height, his kindness... all of it is turning you on. all you wanna do is go home and jump his bones. and you know he's feeling the same way, you can feel his bulge pressing against your stomach. he knows its wrong but he's loving the slight friction he's getting from holding you.

before you know it Luigi has you pressed up against your front door with his thigh in between your legs. your lips move sloppily together in a kiss you've both been craving.

“where’s your little boyfriend at now, hm?” he breaks the kiss to ask, smirking, knowing that he has you all to himself. you push him off you and scoff.

"never bring him up again." you kick your shoes off and walk into your house, feeling his eyes burning into your figure, trying to memorize the shape of your body. he mindlessly follows you like a lost puppy. you suddenly stop on the stairs and whip around to face him.

"we seriously need to talk."

"I'm here to talk." he says, shrugging. you finally lead him to your bedroom and sit on the edge of your bed together. he looks around, noticing all that's different and all that's changed.

"I'm really glad I ran into you tonight," he confesses.

"yeah, me too." he leans in and pecks your lips.

"seriously, I've missed you more than anything. I want to try again, y/n, I want to try us again. I want this to work. I want you." his lips quiver with his confession. "and, when I saw you with him, it broke my heart to watch you be with someone that wasn't me, knowing that I love you more than you'll ever know, more than he ever could.

"I've always wanted you. you're all I've wanted. being with you was all I wanted. and, it didn't work last time, for reasons we both couldn't control. but now, you're here and I have faith we can make it work this time," you say, your hands shaking in his.

"yes, I want this, I want you, so much. you're all I want." he says, practically gasping for air. his arms wrap around you and bring you onto him for a deep kiss. slowly you both peel off your tops, leaving your bare chests touching. but it doesn't feel sexual, it feels intimate. tears well up in your eyes at the overwhelming sensation of finally being with luigi again. after all this time.

you slide off his lap and get comfortable on your knees below him. he smiles down at you, caressing your face.

you quickly tear his jeans off and sigh in content at the sight of his bulge through his boxers. you kiss the girth before slipping his boxers off too. you admire him completely naked in front of you, his hard cock pulsing, his abs flexing every time his chest rises and falls, his muscular arms holding him up, his pretty face.

he reaches down and grasps onto his own cock, desperately stroking himself slowly in front of you. his hand wraps around the girth so perfectly, you note. you find pleasure in watching him pleasure himself, wishing you were touching him.

“how often do you think of me when you jack off?” you ask, not tearing your eyes away from his cock. he doesn’t answer so you swat his arm away from his throbbing dick.

“please,” he whines at the loss of friction.

“answer my question.”

“every time,” satisfied with his answer, you take his cock in your mouth as deep as you can, “fuck!” he sucks in a breath and grips on the edge of your bed.

he taps your head and you take your lips of his cock reluctantly.

“hey, hey, i need you,” he practically whimpers. he grasps under your arms and effortlessly lifts you off your knees so your standing in front of him, in between his legs.

he brings you into him and kisses your lower stomach. you gently push him back on the bed by his shoulders and he flashes you a perfect smile. you slowly crawl up on him and sit right on his face with no shame. he immediately sticks his tongue in you like the munch he is and he has you gripping his shoulders immediately.

“you taste so good,” he groans on your hole, the vibrations have you moaning his name. he sloppily kisses your pussy and his perfect teeth slightly rubbing on you has you grinding on him. he gropes your ass and forces you to grind on him harder, leaving his whole face wet with your juices.

he continues eating you relentlessly as your legs begin to shake around his head.

“i haven’t cum in so long luigi.”

“he doesn’t make you cum?” he says angrily into your pussy, sucking on you harder than before.

“no,” you moan out, shaking your head.

“you’re so close, i can feel it,” he moans, nudging your clit with his nose.

you suddenly become aware of his perfect nose and start grinding solely on his nose. you feel his nose, wet with your juices, nudging at your hole.

“cum, baby,” he whimpers into you and pinches your clit between his fingers. “cum on my mouth.”

the knot in your stomach finally comes undone all over his face. you gasp and you tilt your head back, struggling to breathe. he licks it all up below you, never stopping. your legs shake around his head.

before you know it, he’s flipping you onto your back, flat against your pillows, and teasing your sensitive hole with his fingers. you reach up and pull his forehead down onto yours, never breaking eye contact as he fucks you with his long fingers. moans fall out of your throat against your will.

“you’re so wet, you like how i take care of you, hm?” he asks, stretching you out. “gotta get your pretty pussy ready f’me, right baby?”

all you can do is nod incoherently.

“you know that we shouldn’t be doing this,” he curls his fingers in you. “but you love it don’t you? dirty, dirty girl.” he laughs, shaking his head.

“please,” you whimper.

“you have to wait until i think you’re ready to take me baby. you know i’ve never been with anyone else? it’s always been you. always. nobody else even compares.” he talks sweetly to you while his fingers are rammed inside of you, stretching you in unimaginable ways.

“you think you’re ready now? you think you’re ready for my cock?” he asks, his forehead pressing harder against yours.

“yes, please,” you whimper when he slips his fingers out of you. he brings his soaked fingers up to his mouth and licks all your juices off of him, tasting every last drop.

“sweet like honey,” he moans.

he comes back down to kiss you and you can taste yourself on his lips.

"please, please prove it to me, lu. prove it to me that there's no one else.”

"there's never been anyone else. there will never be anyone else. it's always been you, y/n."

he reaches down and aligns his tip with your entrance, his eyes never leaving yours. his arms hold him up beside you, caging you in.

“is this okay?” he whispers.

“yes, please luigi,” you moan, digging your nails into his muscular back.

he slips the tip in and you both gasp. he thrusts the rest of the way in and your pussy welcomes him like a long lost lover. he waits momentarily for your pussy to adjust to him, before pulling out. he then bottoms out completely, hitting your cervix on the first thrust. he feels himself filling you up completely and collapses on you.

“oh, i love you,” he moans into your neck, his slight scruff scratching your skin.

you moan in surprise when he thrusts into you again, setting a fast but passionate pace. him non-stop thrusting into you fills the room with the lewd sounds of your skin slapping against his.

you don’t even get a chance to reply to his confession because he’s fucking you so good you can’t do anything but reach for him and moan. your foreheads press together, mixing your sweat with one another. his eyes stare deep into yours, never looking away from your face.

he catches your moans with a sweet and sloppy kiss, mixing his moans with yours.

he presses his hand on your lower stomach, feeling himself deep inside of you. his eyes darken.

“you feel that? how deep i am inside of you?” he groans. “fuck, it’s like you were made for me baby.”

he reaches down and rubs your clit, his other hand running groping your tit. your pussy grips him tighter than he thought was humanly possible.

“you’re close, aren’t you baby?” he groans at how tight you’re gripping him, his cock pulsing inside of you.

he keeps his pace, not once slowing down or stopping. your back arches off the bed and the knot in your stomach starts to let go again.

“cum baby,” he whispers and licks up your neck.

your eyes start to flutter shut and you see red. pleasure completely overcomes you as you grip onto him and grind your hips against his, feeling his cock fill you up. you cant even produce a sound, your mouth just falls open in silence.

he wraps his arms around your waist and without taking his cock out of you, flips so you're flat on top of him and thrusts up into you. you nearly scream at the new sensation in your sensitive pussy.

"I'm gonna cum," he groans, gripping on to your ass.

"cum in me, please, lu, cum in me," you sob in his ear, your pussy burning for him.

"fuck, you want me to claim you, hm?" he groans, his mind wandering to getting you pregnant.

"please," you moan, moving your hips back onto his and meeting each and every one of his thrusts.

"that's a girl," he moans in your ear.

before he can say anything more, he's completely bottoming out and shooting his cum deep in you. you gasp at the sensation of being so full. his orgasm sends you over the edge again, spilling out once again on him.

he grabs the back of your neck and forces you to kiss him sloppily. your whole body shakes on his and his soft cock finally slips out of you.

“i love you,” you finally return his confession. he flashes his bright smile, which makes you smile in return. he pushes you back down on his lips again and speaks through kisses.

“i love you too.”

MASTERLIST - PREV. WORK

yall... should I write something in this same universe where he fucks you like near your bf/in your house and he makes you be quiet? omg maybe he sneaks in through the window? omg. guys. im not okay.

!TAGS!

@strawbrriess @bellobambino @f4nfic-lover @btcowboy @chmpgneprblem @soggysouppp @hereandqueer6540 @poohkie90 @bricapallen16 @miarosalie11 @v1rtualsalvat10n @hypnotizedbyhood @webanglikethat @croucify

[zuppizup]

10

“So... ten babies, eh?”

Callum visibly cringed, eyes darting around the kitchen. Runaan and Ethari had disappeared again, leaving them to prepare dinner.

“Like, I said, I, uh, didn’t mean it like that-” Face bright red, he sighed, putting the knife down on the chopping board and turning to give her his full attention.

“Oh, how did you mean it?” She struggled not to laugh at him, his flushed appearance and stammering beyond adorable.

“We were talking about what a baby might be like if a human and elf had kids.” Callum sighed, rolling his eyes. “And then Lira decided to tease me-”

“Just talking about any random elf/human babies, were you?”

“Em, well, no... I guess not.” He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “But they started it!”

“So, three kids got the better of you and you’re wanting ten?” She tried desperately to not to laugh.

“I told you, I didn’t say I wanted us to have ten.” He rolled his eyes, sighing at her teasing, before he grew a little more serious. “But, well, I meant what I said, I want us to be together. To have a life together.” He took her hands, smiling that soft, sweet smile of his. “And yeah, I guess that would involve, you know, babies. If you want them, that is.”

Rayla’s heart raced as she squeezed his hands and stepped closer to him. “I… I do.” She sighed happily, pressing her forehead against his. “I do want all of that with you, Callum. I love you.”

She wanted forever with him and had for longer than she could remember now. With Aaravos imprisoned and Callum free from the stain of dark magic, forever finally seemed like a possibility.

“I love you too,” Callum sighed happily, slipping his hands around her waist and kissing her softly. “Being with you- Us here together... it’s pretty near perfect... this nice, quiet life.”

“I don’t think ten babies would mean a quiet life.” She teased, slipping her hands up his chest and around his neck.

“Hmm, good point.” He chuckled, pulling her closer. “Pride Grandpa Ethari could help. And Runaan.” Grinning, he caressed her waist “Though he didn’t look impressed with the idea of ten grand kids.”

“I think he was probably a bit more concerned with you talking about us making babies at all.” She ran her fingers through his hair, resting her forehead against his. “And I am not having ten babies, thank you very much.”

“Na, that makes sense.” He smirked. “Obviously at least ten.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, unable to keep the amused smirk from her lips. “At least?!”

He shrugged, leaning in to her and kissing her softly. “What, you want twenty?”

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Just for the Taste

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Masturbation, smut. Word count: ~3k

Summary: Growing increasingly frustrated with the pace things are going at between her and Michael, his girlfriend takes matters into her own hands, quite literally.

Author's note: Day nine of Smuffmas - stockings and sex toys. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She had met Michael in her first month at Oxford university. It was a Saturday night and, unlike the vast majority of people living in her college, she had opted to stay in instead of hitting the town to spend her student loan in one of the many pubs. She had a tutorial on Monday and was determined to impress the computer scientist who would be leading it. Her entire weekend revolved around getting ahead with the required reading in order to have a full understanding of the previous week’s lecture topics. She wanted to be able to talk about them at length, and share her ideas in a comprehensive manner.

Her stomach had dropped as she had reached into her backpack, feeling that her Discrete Mathematics textbook was missing. She cursed under her breath, realising she had left it on the table in the Bodleian Old Library. It closed at 4pm on Saturdays, so she’d have to wait until it opened tomorrow to go and fetch it back.

A lack of a textbook wasn’t enough to deter her though. On average, of students that applied to the Computer Science course at Oxford, only 17% were interviewed, and only 5% were successful. She was acutely aware of how fortunate she was, but also how hard she’d worked to get here, and wasn’t about to let that lapse.

A thorough Google search yielded nothing useful, all of the PDFs she managed to unearth were outdated editions and would have been of no use to her. She decided to go door knocking – the time will pass anyway, she figured, and there might be someone in their room that had a copy of the textbook that she could borrow. A long shot, but it was either that or lose an evening of studying, and she wasn’t prepared to do that.

Unfortunately for her, the Computer Science course wasn’t an especially sociable one – the difficulty of the subject matter and competitive nature of the field it eventually lead into wasn’t a breeding ground for fast friendships, and with only 44 people on the course who were all more than happy to keep to themselves, she had no idea where any of them were actually staying. There had to be at least one in her college though.

The first three doors she knocked on yielded no response, the fourth was answered by a flustered, barely dressed girl, who stared at her in wide eyed bewilderment as a male voice from within the room called out “tell them to go away!”

Her skin ablaze with embarrassment, she descended the stairs and was fully prepared to give up after receiving no response from another two doors, before the one in the far corner creaked open, causing her to turn to face the noise. A bespectacled pair of blue eyes peered out at her, narrowed in suspicion.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

She glanced at her watch – just after 9.30pm. “Yeah, it’s not late…”

“What are you doing?” he asked her. His voice was quiet, but laced with derision. “Are you pissed?”

She shook her head, slowly approaching his door as she clasped her hands in front of her. His stare was piercing and intense, yet his posture was so rigid she got the sense that he’d likely slam the door on her if she moved too quickly.

“I haven’t been drinking,” she said apologetically, “just need to borrow a textbook. You’re not on my course so I doubt you could help me anyway.”

“What are you reading?” he asked, his posture softening slightly, though he didn’t open the door any wider.

“Computer Science.”

“Hmm. I’m reading Maths, so–”

Her eyes lit up, a surge of hope making her heart soar. “I need a copy of Discrete Mathematics,” she said excitedly, “I don’t suppose you have one?”

“Not a physical copy…”

She visibly deflated, her heart sinking in disappointment as her shoulders sagged. “Nevermind then. Thanks anyway.”

“I’ve got a PDF,” he said, opening the door wider as she turned to leave.

She stopped in her tracks, her gaze drifting to where his fingers clutched the USB drive that was clasped to the belt loop of his tan coloured cargo trousers with a carabiner clip. “From what year?” she asked quietly, as her eyes lifted back up to his.

“2005.”

She grinned. That was exactly the year she needed. “You’re an absolute lifesaver,” she told him, her voice breathy with relief.

“I think the file might be too big for me to send over email though,” he admitted.

“Could you not just lend me the flash drive? I can give it straight back tomorrow morning.”

He pursed his lips, eyeing her from head to toe. “How do I know you will? This is a one gigabyte USB drive, it’s valuable. You might steal it.”

She grinned, until she realised he was being serious. “I live in the room directly above yours,” she told him, gesturing upwards towards the ceiling, “so you’ll know where to find me.” She gave him her name, as she fiddled with the clasp of her watch, removing it from her wrist and holding it out to him. “Here, insurance, so you know I’m not trying to steal from you.”

The faintest hint of a smile ghosted across his lips as his eyes crinkled in amusement. “Alright, fine,” he relented, taking her watch from her and slipping it into his pocket. He unclipped the USB drive and handed it to her. “I’m Michael, by the way.”

“Thanks, Michael,” she said with a coy smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She made her way back upstairs to her room and spent the rest of the night studying then, true to her word, on her way to the library the following morning, she knocked on Michael’s door to give him back his USB drive.

“I’m glad to see you’re a woman of your word,” Michael said playfully, as she clipped the drive back onto his carabiner, his cheeks flushing at her close proximity.

She held out her wrist and, silently, he clasped her watch back around it. Her skin tingled as his fingers brushed across it, their eyes meeting as their breaths simultaneously caught in their throats.

From that moment on, her and Michael were inseparable. The attraction was instantaneous, deepened by a shared love of mathematics and a refusal to toe the line when it came to the unspoken social hierarchy in place at the university.

Michael was a virgin, and so they took things slowly. She had had a long term boyfriend before going away to university, so she had had sex, but wasn’t overwhelmingly experienced. The split between her and her ex had been amicable; both going away to study in entirely different cities, they had wanted to give each other the opportunity to focus on their respective courses, rather than the pressures of maintaining a long distance relationship.

Things often turned hot and heavy between her and Michael. As their kisses grew feverish, his hips grinding of their own accord against hers, she could feel he was hard, knew that he wanted her, but was often left disappointed when he would hurry to the bathroom for a cold shower before anything truly interesting could happen between them. She cared for him, so she was happy to wait, though the sexual frustration was beginning to take its toll on her.

She had never been more grateful for the bullet vibrator she had brought with her to university, though it was costing her a small fortune in batteries – it had never had so much use before.

Three months into their relationship, she was beginning to get desperate. They had arranged to watch a film in Michael’s room that evening, so she decided to make it more than obvious that she was eager to take things a step further.

She pulled on lace topped hold up stockings and a black, lacy lingerie set, covering it with the red woolen jumper that Michael had left in her room the last time he was there. It fell to her mid thigh, so it wasn't immediately obvious that she had no other clothing on underneath.

They had fallen into the comfortable habit of leaving their doors unlocked when they were expecting each other to come over, so that they wouldn’t have to knock. She let herself straight into his room, finding Michael hunched over at his desk, fiddling with a Blockbuster DVD case to open it, so he could insert the disc into the CD drive of his laptop.

“What we watching then?” she asked, letting her rucksack drop from her shoulder onto the floor as she perched on the edge of his bed.

“Revenge of the Sith,” he answered, turning in his seat to look at her, “it’s a Star Wars film. I thought, erm…”

He trailed off, his lips parting slightly as he pushed his glasses up his nose. She followed his line of sight, seeing that the hem of his jumper had ridden up as she’d sat on the bed, revealing the lacy tops of her stockings. She smiled, knowing her outfit was having the desired effect, before looking back at him.

“You thought what?” she asked innocently, settling back properly on the bed as she moved a pillow behind her to lean against. She didn’t bother to pull the jumper back down, wanting to leave no room for doubt as to what her intentions were.

Michael swallowed thickly, before shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter, let’s just watch the film.”

As the film played, she could hardly concentrate, the closeness of Michael next to her, the heat of his body so close to hers was a distraction. Their fingers were entwined upon the sheets between them, a gesture of closeness and intimacy, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more.

Slowly, she moved his hand onto her thigh, leaving their fingers interwoven there for a few moments while she gauged his reaction. His eyes flitted to hers and he offered her a tight smile before he returned his attention back to his laptop screen. He made no attempt to move his hand away, so she left it there.

Gradually, she disentangled her fingers from his, pulling her hand away until only his remained on top of her thigh. His thumb absentmindedly began to stroke at the lace of her stocking, tracing the swirling pattern of the material as he continued to watch the film.

She had no idea what was occurring on the screen; the light sabers, the red and black face of Darth Maul, it was all just a blur of colour to her as her pulse raced beneath Michael’s touch. His hand moved higher, fingertips brushing against the soft skin of her inner thigh. It took all of her restraint not to just grab his hand and place it where she needed him most, knowing that she shouldn’t rush him. At a maddeningly slow pace his fingers inched their way up, her core throbbing with desire and the crotch of her knickers growing damp with arousal the closer he got. As his fingertips reached the hem of her underwear, so close to pushing underneath, the credits of the film began to roll and Michael moved his hand away, climbing off of the bed towards the desk where the laptop sat.

She wanted to scream in frustration, every nerve ending in her body felt ablaze, desperate to feel something, anything and he was painfully oblivious to all of it.

Not in the mood to answer his questions about what she had thought about what they had just watched – she hadn’t been paying attention anyway – she stood up, tugging the jumper down and slipping the shoes back on.

“Night then,” she called over her shoulder, not giving him a chance to respond as she hurried out of his room and back up the stairs towards her own.

She knew she was being rude and incredibly unfair to Michael, and that they would likely have to discuss at some point how his apprehension towards physical intimacy was affecting her, but right now she was a pent up mess of hormones and arousal and she needed release.

Slamming the door closed the moment she stepped into her room, she flopped down onto the bed, roughly tugging her underwear down her legs and tossing it to one side. She reached into the bedside table drawer, feeling around until her fingers wrapped around the familiar shape of her bullet vibrator.

Thank god, she thought, switching it on and bringing it between her legs, sighing in relief as she pressed it against her swollen clit and her eyes fluttered closed. Her breaths grew heavier as she moved the toy in tight circles to aid the gentle rumble against her sensitive bundle of nerves.

She froze as the door swung to, her eyes snapping open to see Michael standing there.

“Hey, you left your bag, so I– oh, shit, sorry!”

“Wait!” she pleaded, turning the toy off and chucking it down onto the bed as she moved into a sitting position. “Don’t go.”

He let her rucksack drop to the floor beside his feet, closing the door behind him and resting his back against it. His eyes were glued to the floor, his cheeks ablaze as he struggled to find the words. “Were you…were you…um…”

“Yeah, yeah, I was,” she admitted shamefully, feeling her skin grow warm with humiliation.

“Is that why you left so quickly? Because you wanted to…”

He looked so dejected, so sad, so hurt, it made her want to burst into tears. She’d have done anything to take away the furrow of his brow, the disappointed look in his eyes. “Yes,” she whispered, hating herself for the answer.

“Do you not want to with me then?” he asked, his voice so soft she had to strain to hear it.

“Of course I do,” she insisted, “that’s why I was doing…what I was doing.”

“I don’t understand,” he admitted, finally looking up to meet her eye, his back still pressed against the door as she sat on the bed.

She sighed, raking a hand through her hair, unable to keep the frustration from her voice as she tried to explain. “I want you, Michael, but I appreciate that you’re a virgin and I don’t want to push you before you’re ready. I have needs though, I’m sorry…”

“You shouldn’t have to apologise for that,” he reassured her, pushing away from the door and slowly approaching the bed, “I am ready, I just never realised you wanted to, you never said.”

“I’ve been dropping hints left and right, did you not see what I was wearing tonight?”

“Yeah, my jumper,” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck, “just assumed you hadn’t done any washing for a while.”

She groaned, fighting the urge to laugh – for an intelligent guy, he could be so incredibly dense. “I want to fuck you! Is that clear enough?”

Michael nodded, his gaze falling upon the toy that lay discarded beside her. “I don’t know what I’m doing though. I’ve always just been able to do maths in my head, never needed a calculator before, but I know they help people. Maybe that–” he pointed towards the vibrator, “could be my calculator, could help me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Show me how to fuck you.”

The bluntness took her breath away, but the intensity of his stare left no room for argument. “Alright,” she nodded, picking the toy up once more.

Michael stepped clumsily out of his shoes, then moved to the foot of the bed, kneeling upon it. “Go on then, show me.”

She could feel nervous excitement fluttering in her belly as she laid back, allowing her legs to fall open, giving him an unobstructed view of her most intimate area, before she pressed the bullet back against herself and switched it on.

Michael inhaled sharply, his hands coming to rest upon the knees of her bent legs, holding them open as he watched her intently. “What does it feel like?”

“It…it feels good,” she whispered breathlessly, slowly circling the toy against her bud, “there’s pressure, but it feels nice.” 

She gazed up at him as she panted and moaned softly, seeing the way his pupils dilated subtly. His hands moved to his belt, tugging it open, causing her to bite her lip, a mixture of arousal, curiosity and disbelief all fought for dominance in her pleasure-addled mind as she watched him unzip his trousers and free his hardened length. It was long, thick and slightly curved, the tip weeping with arousal.

“Can I?” he asked, gently grasping her wrist to coax her hand away from herself. 

She nodded, allowing him to move her arm to her side, the toy still buzzing in her hand. She gasped as he replaced the toy with the flushed head of his cock, rubbing it in circular motions, allowing it to notch against her clitoral hood.

“Like this?” he asked, his voice strained, and she simply nodded, desperately fighting the urge to buck her hips from the exquisite pressure he was applying.

“Shouldn’t…shouldn’t your first time be special?” she uttered, voice thick with desire.

“We’re not fucking, we’re learning,” he said softly, his gaze never moving from between her thighs as he continued to stroke himself through her slick folds, “and besides, it being with you automatically makes it special.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, they would have been romantic were it not for the lewdness of what they were doing.

“Now,” he said, pulling back slightly and grabbing her wrist again, “show me what else you do with this toy.”

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More Michael fics

[beingatoaster]

Re: how you skip a section and keep on writing: you determine enough about the skipped section's progression to know what the next point will be, and then start at that next point, without sorting out the exact details of that progression. E.g., for the aforementioned WIP, I have a written section where two characters wrap up a date they went on together and agree on the date for the next one, a scene break, a couple notes in the style of the OP about what scenes I want in the week in between, another scene break, and then I start back to writing in full narrative form about the second date.

...I was starting to describe it vaguely but hey, you will recognize the fandom, so:

As if setting that plan was a cue, Diluc starts to clean up the remains of the picnic, and Jean leans in to help him. He takes the two boxes the skewers had come in and carefully divides all the food out between them, handing one to Jean before tucking the other into his basket, and rises to offer Jean his hand. She lets him help her up. Together, comfortably discussing their tortoises, they head back to Mondstadt. *** [her evening with Barbara! maybe could lead to the 'keep Barbara from coming along' later on] [Kaeya is doing things to try and make the situation up to her, which Jean can tell he's doing and wants him to stop -- second Kaeya scene, with him taking work, moves here] *** On her next day off, Jean rises with a refreshing sense of anticipation. She picks through her civilian wardrobe for something practical for the trek down Drunkard's Gorge and wrangling tortoises. Even if it has to be practical clothing, though, it's nice to plan for this trip without automatically donning her uniform.

Now, those notes in the middle aren't clear here because I already know what tensions I'm pushing with these scenes (the main plot is Jean dating Diluc out of hanahaki-based obligation; Barbara is oblivious and happy for her, while Kaeya talked Jean into doing this but is now very guilty about it) and thus I don't need to describe them in more detail to myself. But I know what they are, I know what they're doing, and I don't need to know the exact wording of the dialogue or the exact actions taken in them right now to move on with the main-focus relationship, which is Jean and Diluc and the slow-motion train crash that is occurring between them.

And because said slow-motion train crash is the main driver of the plot, I can skip the side-character scenes for now because as long as I know what they're doing in the larger scheme of things (adding friction to the wheels such that individual cars on this train are beginning to tilt under the pressure), I can go back and fill in the exact details later. The Barbara scene needs to have her induce guilt in Jean about the lie. The Kaeya scene needs to emphasize that their relationship is under strain, leading later to Jean not being willing to trust him with a future plot development. I can write the guilt and the reluctance into later scenes knowing that in the second draft, they'll have a basis.

(I would bet every single example in OP's work is not a "I have no idea what goes here," it's a "I know that X needs to be here for Y reasons," but the note, like my notes, is just a placeholder in the text for that line/scene's actual story-function as they have it in their head.)

Also, a smaller within-scene example that works the same way:

"Thank you," Jean says again, less formally, a tightness in her throat. She hesitates there, not sure what else to say, what else she *can* say without further thinning the line she has to walk. Diluc solves the problem for her. "You'll have to handle the clean-up personally to be sure it's done right," he says, and that sounds irritable, this time, but at least his irritation isn't at her. "I'll do a final sweep for any stragglers. I expect managing other Knights' incompetence will take you the rest of the night." [some transition that DOESN'T include negging the Knights, that makes her think of the flower and/or how they're focused on the same goals] "Wait," Jean says, as he turns away.

I can figure out the exact dialogue I want to put there later--what matters is knowing what it does to move the story forward. Since I know what effect it will have, I was able to carry on with that scene and into the next one it effects without getting bogged down in the exact verbiage, which wasn't coming to mind at the moment.

So I guess the point is, you can leave blanks to fill in later as long as you know what those blanks do. Scenes/moments in a story are links in a chain, and you can always temporarily loop some baling twine in to connect lengths of a chain together until you have time to go to the store and buy a replacement, but that doesn't mean you aren't continuing the chain. I still think of myself as writing this story in order! It's just got a lot of baling twine in it right now because if I stop to go to the store while counting links, I will lose all forward momentum and won't continue on down the chain.

...Which is, to be clearer, why I'm suggesting trying this for motivation problems. The moment I hit friction when I'm writing a first draft, my motivation starts to die. On the other hand, once I have a finished first draft (by which I mean, still with these notes and unwritten bits scattered through, but with all the main scenes written and a solid ending), going back and writing those bits is not "friction" but "enrichment." Which may also prove true for you.

Or it may not! Your approach to writing is fine if it's working for you! Or if the reason it's not working for you is because something completely different is tripping you up and you need to troubleshoot from that direction. I'm just talking on and on about my approach because it's the only thing I know that works for me, and also I love navel-gazing. XD;; Hopefully you can find something that works for you!

me: yeah I'm pretty close to finishing this fic

the fic:

[aceyalonso]

our little secret - DANIEL RICCIARDO

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

summary : y/n had never been one to take risks, especially those that could put any relationships on the line, but maybe daniel can convince her to take a risk while keeping it a secret, just this once (or twice)

warnings/notes : text written like this = flashback, swearing, drinking, 9 year age gap - reader is 25/26, smut, oral (both!receiving), hair pulling (?), fingering, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, thigh riding, praise kink, use of "sweetheart" and "pretty/good girl", implied unprotected sex (please use a condom guys!!!), gagging (in a sense?), finger sucking, begging, clothed sex, nipple play

word count : 9.4k

a/n : sorry if i havent been posting much, im really busy :,)

main masterlist | 1k masterlist | taglist form

2024 - Monday, 10:58 PM

Y/n walked into the dimly lit bar, the smell of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke filling her nostrils. She scanned the room, taking in the various patrons drowning their sorrows or celebrating the night away. As she made her way to the bar, her eyes landed on a familiar face - Daniel, her best friend's older brother.

It had been years since she last saw him, and a part of her couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement at the unexpected reunion. She approached him, a friendly smile on her face. "Daniel? Is that really you?"

He turned, his eyes widening in recognition. "Y/n! Wow, it's been ages. How have you been?" He pulled her into a warm hug, the scent of his cologne filling her senses.

She settled onto the barstool beside Daniel, signaling the bartender for a drink. "I've been good, just busy with work and life, you know how it goes. How about you? Still living in the area?"

He nodded, taking a swig of his beer. "Yep, never left. Business has been stable, bought a new house, the whole nine yards. It's been... quiet, I guess. Nothing too exciting." His eyes lingered on her face, taking in the changes time had brought.

As they caught up, the drinks flowed freely, and inhibitions began to lower. Y/n found herself leaning closer, drawn to Daniel's easy charm and the familiarity of his presence. They laughed and reminisced about old times, the alcohol loosening their tongues and emboldening their words.

Daniel's brow furrowed in confusion. "Wait, I thought you were coming into town on Thursday? My sister mentioned something about you staying over on Friday."

She blinked, momentarily taken aback by the realization. "Oh, right. I completely forgot about that. I decided to come a few days earlier, have some time to myself." She laughed, shaking her head. "I'll be in town for two weeks, actually. Just... don't want to make my presence known yet, I guess."

A mischievous glint entered Daniel's eye. "Well, since you're here now, why don't we make the most of it? We could grab dinner, catch up properly. It's been too long since we last hung out."

Y/n hesitated for a moment, the idea both thrilling and daunting. But the alcohol coursing through her veins bolstered her courage, and she found herself nodding in agreement. "Sure, why not? It'll be fun to reconnect."

Her inhibitions continued to fade. Y/n found herself laughing more easily, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling with mirth. Daniel watched her, amused and intrigued by the change in her demeanor.

"You know," Y/n said, leaning in close and lowering her voice conspiratorially, "I had the biggest crush on you in my last year of high school."

Daniel's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? I had no idea."

Y/n nodded, a dreamy look in her eyes. "Oh yeah. I used to fantasize about you all the time. You were so cool and mature, and I was just a silly little girl."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, I'm flattered. I had no idea you felt that way."

She waved her hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter now. That was years ago, and we're both different people now."

Daniel leaned back, a curious expression on his face. "So why didn't you ever pursue it? I mean, if you had such a big crush on me."

Y/n let out a loud, drunken laugh, nearly spilling her drink in the process. "Come on, Daniel! It was a given rule - never go for your best friend's brother. That's like, the ultimate taboo."

Daniel raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "And yet, here we are. Both single, both adults. What's stopping us now?"

Y/n's eyes widened, a mix of shock and excitement coursing through her. She hadn't expected him to take it seriously, to actually consider the possibility. But there was something in his gaze, a heat that sent a shiver down her spine.

"I... I don't know," she stammered, her mind racing. "It just feels wrong, somehow. Like we're crossing a line."

Daniel leaned in closer, his voice low and teasing. "Wow, okay. You certainly didn't seem to mind crossing lines when I caught you and my cousin making out at that barbecue a few years back."

Y/n's eyes widened in shock, her face flushing a deep crimson. "Oh my god, I can't believe you remembered that!" She buried her face in her hands, mortified.

He chuckled, reaching out to gently tilt her chin up. "Hey, no need to be embarrassed. We were all young and stupid at one point."

She met his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. There was a new intensity in his eyes, a hunger that made her breath catch in her throat. "I... I don't know what to say," she whispered.

Daniel's thumb brushed lightly over thumb, sending a jolt of electricity through her body. "How about we get out of here?" he suggested, his voice husky. "Go somewhere more private, where we can... talk more comfortably."

Y/n bit her lip, considering his suggestion. The alcohol had lowered her inhibitions, and the prospect of being alone with Daniel was both thrilling and terrifying. "Hm, why not?" she finally said, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Your place?"

Daniel nodded, a predatory gleam in his eye. "Sounds perfect." He tossed some cash on the bar and took her hand, leading her out into the cool night air.

They stumbled slightly as they made their way to his car, giggling like teenagers. Daniel opened the passenger door for her, his hand lingering on the small of her back as she slid into the seat.

As Daniel slid into the driver's seat, Y/n couldn't help but notice the way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt. She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat that was building in her core.

The drive to Daniel's place was long and winding, the streets deserted at this late hour. They passed by darkened houses and closed businesses, the only sound the low hum of the engine and their own breathing.

The cool night air rushed in through the open window, as Y/n felt a sudden burst of reckless energy. She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned out the window, letting the wind whip through her hair.

Daniel glanced over at her, a swirl of amusement and shock on his face. “What are you doing? You’re going to fall out!”

She laughed, the sound carried away in the wind. “I won’t! I’m just having fun!” She pushed herself further out of the window, her upper body completely exposed to elements.

He shook his head, but couldn’t help but smile at her carefree antics. Daniel pressed down on the accelerator, the car speeding up as they flew down the empty streets.

Y/n's laughter echoed through the night as the wind whipped around her, her dress billowing and hiking up her thighs. She felt alive, exhilarated by the rush of speed and the freedom of the open road.

Daniel's eyes flicked over to her, taking in the sight of her exposed legs and the way her dress clung to her curves. He swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as he tried to focus on the road ahead.

"You're crazy, you know that?" he called out over the roar of the wind and engine.

She just laughed harder, the sound filled with pure joy and reckless abandon. She felt invincible like nothing could touch her in this moment.

Y/n's laughter turned into a shout, her voice carried away in the wind. "I'm on top of the world!" she cried out, her arms spread wide as if embracing the night sky.

Daniel's mind flashed back to a night years ago, when he had picked up Y/n and his sister from a bar. Even then, Y/n had been reckless when she was drunk, always pushing boundaries and seeking out new thrills.

2015 - 1:36 AM

Daniel sat at his desk, hunched over his laptop as he worked late into the night. The glow of the screen illuminated his face, casting shadows across his features. Suddenly, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. He glanced at the screen and saw his sister's name flash across it.

He answered the call, putting it on speaker. "Hey, what's up?"

His sister's voice came through, slurred and giggly. "Dannyyyy, pick me and Y/n upppppp, we can't driveeee."

Daniel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Where are you?"

"The bar on Main Street. Pleeeease, I don't want to leave my car here overnight," she whined.

Daniel glanced at the clock, debating whether to go or not. But he knew he couldn't leave his sister stranded. "Fine, I'll be there in ten minutes. Don't go anywhere."

He hung up the phone and grabbed his keys, heading out into the night to rescue his drunken sister and her equally inebriated friend.

Not long after, Daniel pulled up to the bar, spotting his sister and Y/n stumbling out of the entrance. His sister was in tears, her mascara running down her face as she clung to Y/n for support.

"There you are!" she cried out as Daniel rolled down the window. "I'm so glad you're here."

Daniel sighed, getting out of the car to help them inside. "Come on, let's get you home."

As they climbed into the car, his sister immediately moved to the backseat. "I want to sit in the back," she insisted, her words slightly slurred.

Y/n, who was still giggling from the earlier excitement, plopped herself down in the front passenger seat. "I'll keep your brother company," she said with a wink, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Daniel shook his head, amused by their antics despite the late hour. He got back into the driver's seat and started the car, ready to take them home and tuck them into bed like the responsible adult he was.

His sister's head lolled back against the seat, as the car pulled away from the sidewalk, her eyes fluttering closed as she drifted off to sleep. In the front seat, Y/n turned to face him, a coy smile on her lips.

"Thanks for coming to get us," she purred, her voice low and sultry. "I don't know what we would have done without you."

Daniel glanced over at her, taking in the way her dress had ridden up her thighs and the way her hair was tousled from the wind. He felt a stirring of desire, but quickly pushed it aside. "It's no problem. I'm just glad you're both okay."

Y/n continued to make flirty comments and innuendos, as they drove, her words becoming more brazen with each passing mile. "You know, Daniel," she said, her hand resting on his thigh, "I've always thought you were so handsome. And now that I'm older, I can really appreciate it."

Daniel shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to focus on the road ahead. "Y/n, you're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

She laughed, a throaty sound that sent shivers down his spine. "Oh, I know exactly what I'm saying. I'm saying that I want you, Daniel. I've always wanted you."

Y/n leaned in closer, her lips mere inches from his. "You want to kiss me, don't you?" she whispered, her breath hot against his skin.

Daniel's heart pounded in his chest, his resolve weakening by the second. He leaned in, his eyes fluttering closed as he prepared to capture her lips with his own.

But just as he was about to make contact, Y/n pulled away, a wicked grin on her face. "Not tonight," she giggled, unbuckling her seatbelt and climbing out of the car.

Y/n stumbled slightly as she stepped out of the car, but Daniel was there to catch her, his strong hands gripping her waist. She leaned into him for a moment, savoring the warmth of his touch.

"Do you have any wine?" she asked, her words slightly slurred.

Daniel nodded, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, I've got some. Do you want some?"

Y/n nodded enthusiastically, her eyes shining with excitement. "Yes, please. I need something to take the edge off."

Daniel led her inside, his hand resting on the small of her back. The house was dark and quiet, the only sound their footsteps on the hardwood floor.

He guided her into the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of red wine. "This okay?" he asked, holding it up for her to see.

She nodded, her eyes fixed on the bottle. "Perfect."

Daniel grabbed two glasses and poured them each a generous serving. He handed one to Y/n, their fingers brushing as she took it from him.

Y/n took a few sips of the wine, savoring the rich, velvety texture on her tongue. "Mmm, that's some good red wine," she purred, her eyes half-lidded as she looked up at Daniel.

He smiled, taking a sip of his own drink. "Thank you. It was a gift from a friend of mine."

Y/n nodded, her gaze roaming over his face, taking in the strong lines of his jaw and the way his eyes sparkled in the dim light. "You have good taste," she said, her voice low and husky.

"Do you want to sit in the living room?" Daniel asked, his voice low and smooth.

She nodded, a coy smile playing on her lips. "Sure, lead the way."

He took her hand, intertwining their fingers as he led her out of the kitchen and into the living room. The space was cozy and inviting, with plush couches and soft lighting.

Daniel gestured for her to sit, and she sank down onto the couch, crossing her legs and leaning back against the cushions. He sat down beside her, close enough that their thighs were almost touching.

"Comfortable?" he asked, his eyes roaming over her face.

Y/n smiled, taking another sip of her wine. "Very. This is nice."

Daniel smiled, his hand resting on the arm of the couch, just inches from her own. "I'm glad you think so."

She took another sip of her wine, trying to ease the tension that had settled in her chest. She started making small talk, asking Daniel about his job and his life in the years since they had last seen each other.

Daniel listened intently, laughing at her jokes and responding with his own anecdotes. "You don't need to feel awkward," he said, his hand coming to rest on her knee. "We're just two old friends catching up."

Y/n nodded, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to this than just a friendly reunion. The way Daniel was looking at her, the way his hand felt on her skin... it was all so intense, so charged with possibility.

She took another sip of her wine, trying to calm her racing heart. "I'm glad we ran into each other tonight," she said, her voice soft. "It's been too long."

Daniel nodded, his eyes softening at her words. "I didn't realize I missed seeing you until now, honestly."

They stared at each other for a long moment, the air between them crackling with tension. Y/n's heart was pounding in her chest, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

Unable to resist any longer, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his in a soft, tentative kiss. She set her wine glass down on the coffee table, her hands coming up to tangle in his hair as she deepened the kiss.

Daniel responded instantly, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer. He kissed her back with a hunger that took her breath away, his tongue delving into her mouth to tangle with her own.

Y/n moaned softly, pressing herself against him, feeling the hard planes of his body against her soft curves. She had never wanted anything so badly in her life.

Daniel pulled away from the kiss, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. "God, if I had known you were such a good kisser, I would have stopped you from leaving the car to kiss you," he said, his voice rough with desire.

Y/n blinked, confusion crossing her face. "What are you talking about?"

Daniel chuckled, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. "Remember that night I picked you and my sister up from the bar? You were being all flirty and reckless, and I was too much of a gentleman to take advantage of you."

Her eyes widened as the memory came flooding back. "Holy shit, that wasn't a dream?" she exclaimed, her face flushing a deep crimson.

Y/n buried her face in Daniel's neck, mortified by the memory. "That just turned me off so bad," she mumbled, her words muffled against his skin. "That was so cringe, Danny."

Daniel laughed, his chest rumbling beneath her cheek. "I know, I know. I looked like such a nerd back then."

She pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting his. "But you were still hot," she said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Even if you were a little too noble for your own good."

Daniel laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "Can we just stay like this instead? I mean, we don't need to have sex."

Y/n grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Sure, we can have sex in the morning," she said, her voice teasing.

"Mhm," Daniel agreed, pulling her down to lay on the couch with him.

Y/n started giggling uncontrollably, her body shaking with laughter. "Oh my god, can you imagine? Waking up and being like, 'Hey, remember that thing we said about having sex this morning? Let's do it!'"

Daniel chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. "I think we'd be too hungover to actually follow through."

Y/n snorted, burying her face in his chest. "Probably. But it's a funny thought."

They lay there for a while, just holding each other and enjoying the closeness. The wine and the late hour made everything feel soft and hazy, like they were suspended in a bubble of their own making.

2024 - Tuesday, 9:21 AM

Y/n slowly blinked open her eyes, her head pounding and her mouth feeling like cotton. She groaned softly, her body slightly sore from the awkward way they had slept on the couch.

Daniel stirred beside her, his arm tightening around her waist as he mumbled something incoherent. Y/n smiled, nuzzling into his neck and breathing in his scent.

"Morning," she whispered, her voice hoarse from sleep.

Daniel's eyes fluttered open, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "Morning," he replied, his voice equally rough. "How are you feeling?"

Y/n stretched, wincing slightly as her muscles protested. "Like I got hit by a truck," she admitted. "But in a good way."

Daniel laughed, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. "I'm glad you're here," he said, his eyes soft and warm. "Even if we are both feeling like death."

She leaned into his touch, her heart fluttering in her chest. "Me too," she murmured. "Me too."

He sat up, stretching his arms above his head. "Do you want breakfast?" Daniel asked, his stomach grumbling loudly.

Y/n nodded, her own stomach rumbling in response. "Yeah, that sounds amazing."

"Okay," Daniel said, standing up and offering her a hand. "You can take a bath in my bedroom if you want. There's a shirt in the top drawer of my dresser that you can wear. I bet that dress wasn't very comfortable to sleep in."

Y/n took his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. "Thanks," she said, smiling up at him. "You're too good to me."

Daniel chuckled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "Go on, I'll start on breakfast."

She nodded and made her way up the stairs, grabbing a shirt from his dresser and heading to the bathroom. She stripped off her dress and climbed into the shower, sighing in relief as the hot water soothed her aching muscles.

As the hot water cascaded over her body, Y/n found herself staring at the various bottles of soap and shampoo lined up on the shower shelf. Her mind drifted back to the events of the previous night, replaying the moment when she had kissed Daniel over and over again.

She couldn't believe she had been so bold, so reckless. But in that moment, it had felt so right, so inevitable. The way his lips had moved against hers, the way his hands had felt on her skin... it was intoxicating.

Y/n bit her lip, a shiver running through her as she remembered the heat of his body pressed against hers. She had wanted him so badly, had ached for his touch. And now, here she was, in his bathroom, wearing his shirt.

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She couldn't let herself get carried away, couldn't let her feelings for Daniel cloud her judgment. They were just two old friends, catching up after years apart. Nothing more, nothing less.

Y/n stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around herself as she padded into the bedroom. She pulled on Daniel's shirt, the fabric soft and worn from years of use. It was a bit big on her, hanging loosely off her shoulders and brushing the tops of her thighs.

She rummaged through his dresser, looking for something to wear underneath. Her eyes landed on a pair of boxer shorts, and she grinned to herself. "Hey Danny," she imagined herself saying, "I took some boxer shorts from your dresser because I'm pretty sure it's not okay to be wearing only panties in your best friend's older brother's house."

Y/n pulled on the boxers, the waistband sitting low on her hips. She looked at herself in the mirror, a mischievous glint in her eye. She couldn't wait to see the look on Daniel's face when he saw her.

Y/n made her way downstairs, her bare feet padding softly on the hardwood floors. She could hear the sound of the coffee machine gurgling in the kitchen, and the faint scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air.

She crept up behind Daniel, who was leaning against the counter, his eyes half-closed as he waited for the coffee to finish. Y/n couldn't resist the urge to tease him, and before he could react, she reached out and tickled his armpits.

Daniel yelped, jumping up and spinning around. "What the hell?" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with surprise.

Y/n dissolved into giggles, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself," she said, still laughing. "You looked so zoned out, I thought I'd wake you up."

He shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're lucky I didn't drop the coffee pot," he said, his voice gruff.

She giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I hope you don't mind," she said, "I borrowed your boxers. I didn't think it was appropriate to be wearing lace panties around my best friend's brother."

Daniel lifted the hem of his shirt slightly, his eyes roaming over the waistband of the boxers peeking out. "Ehh, I think I'd prefer seeing the lace over my boxers," he said, his voice low and teasing.

Y/n rolled her eyes, playfully swatting at his arm. "You're such a perv," she said, but there was no real heat behind her words.

Daniel just grinned, pouring two cups of coffee and handing one to her. "Breakfast is almost ready," he said, gesturing to the stove where a pan of scrambled eggs and bacon sizzled.

She hopped up onto the kitchen counter, her feet dangling off the edge as she watched Daniel finish cooking. The scent of bacon and eggs filled the air, making her stomach growl.

"Ooh, okay," she said, eyeing the plate of food hungrily.

Daniel set the plate down in the center of the island, then turned to face her. He stepped between her legs, his hands coming to rest on her thighs.

"I meant what I said, by the way," he murmured, his eyes locked on hers. "I'd prefer seeing you in lace panties."

Y/n's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing at his closeness. "Is that so?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daniel's lips found the sensitive skin of Y/n's neck, his kisses sending shivers down her spine. "Yeah," he murmured against her skin, his hands tugging at the waistband of the boxers. "So can I take these off, sweetheart?"

Y/n's head fell back, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored the feeling of his lips on her neck. "Please," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daniel's fingers hooked into the waistband of the boxers, slowly pulling them down her legs. Y/n lifted her hips, allowing him to slide them off completely.

"There," he said, his voice husky. "Much better."

Y/n opened her eyes, her gaze meeting his. She could see the desire burning in their depths, and it made her heart race. "Daniel," she whispered, her hand coming up to cup his cheek.

He leaned into her touch, his eyes never leaving hers. "Y/n," he breathed, his lips brushing against hers.

Y/n's breath hitched as Daniel's fingers played with her through the lace of her panties. "Please," she whimpered, her hips bucking against his hand. "I need you."

Daniel smiled, his eyes dark with desire. "Look at you, sweetheart," he murmured, his fingers pushing the lace aside to reveal her wetness. "So wet for me. You'd think I already fucked you."

Y/n moaned, her head falling back as he teased her sensitive flesh. But just as she was getting lost in the sensation, Daniel stopped, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her panties.

"Off," he commanded, pulling them down her legs and tossing them carelessly onto the floor.

Y/n whimpered at the loss of his touch, but her need was quickly replaced by pleasure as Daniel's tongue licked a hot stripe along her slit. His nose brushed against her clit, and she cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair.

"Mmm, you taste so sweet for me, sweetheart," Daniel murmured, his words vibrating against her sensitive flesh. "I could have you like this all day."

He buried his face between her thighs, his tongue delving deep into her heat as he lapped at her juices. Y/n's back arched off the counter, her fingers gripping the edge tightly as he worked her over with his mouth.

Every so often, he would pull back just enough to make eye contact with her, his gaze smoldering as his nose brushed against her clit. Y/n's breath hitched, her hips bucking against his face as he teased her mercilessly.

"Danny," she gasped, her voice high and breathy. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Daniel just grinned, his eyes dark with lust as he dove back in, determined to make her come undone.

Y/n's body shook and trembled as her orgasm ripped through her, her legs going limp as the intense pleasure overwhelmed her. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she chanted, her voice ragged and breathless.

Daniel held her legs up, his strong hands keeping her steady as he continued to lap at her sensitive flesh, prolonging her pleasure. He could feel her inner walls fluttering around his fingers, and it made his cock twitch in his pants.

Slowly, he eased her down from her high, his tongue gentling as he licked up every last drop of her release. Y/n collapsed back against the counter, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

Daniel stood up, his lips glistening with her juices. He leaned in, capturing her mouth in a deep, filthy kiss. Y/n could taste herself on his tongue, and it sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through her.

Y/n moaned into the kiss, her body still thrumming with need. "I want more," she breathed, her hands fisting in his shirt.

Daniel laughed, a low, sexy sound. "Really? So needy," he teased, his fingers trailing down her side. "Tell me what you want, sweetheart."

"I want to cum again," Y/n said, her voice trembling with desperation. "I don't care how, I just want to do it again."

Chuckling, Daniel took her hand and led her to the living room. He sat down on the couch, spreading his legs wide. "Suck my cock and I'll let you cum, okay?" he said, his voice rough with desire.

Y/n nodded eagerly, dropping to her knees between his legs. She reached for his belt, her fingers fumbling with the buckle in her haste to get to him.

Daniel laughed, his head falling back against the couch as Y/n's soft lips wrapped around the tip of his cock. She placed a gentle kiss there, her tongue darting out to lick a slow, teasing strip along the side.

"Fuck, that feels good," he groaned, his fingers tangling in her hair.

Y/n hummed in response, her hand still stroking his length as she licked and kissed her way down to his balls. She took one into her mouth, sucking gently as her tongue swirled around it.

Daniel's hips twitched, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Y/n," he warned, his voice strained. "If you keep that up, I'm gonna cum."

She just smiled around his ball, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she released it with a soft pop. "Would that be so bad?" she asked, her voice muffled.

"A bit," Daniel admitted, his voice strained as Y/n continued to tease the tip of his cock with her tongue. "It makes me seem like a teenager fucking for the first time."

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent as she batted her lashes. "Fuck like that, sweetheart," she purred, her hand stroking his shaft in time with her tongue.

Daniel groaned, his hips bucking up into her touch. He took a fistful of her hair, gently gathering it into a makeshift ponytail. "I need to see my pretty girl while she sucks my cock," he said, his voice rough with desire.

Y/n smiled, her lips parting as she took him into her mouth, inch by inch. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard as she bobbed her head up and down his length.

Y/n kept sucking him, her head bobbing up and down his length as she took him deeper into her mouth with each pass. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive head, lapping up the pre-cum that leaked from the tip.

Daniel's grip on her hair tightened, his hips thrusting up to meet her mouth. "Fuck, just like that," he groaned, his eyes locked on the erotic sight of her lips stretched around his cock.

Y/n moaned around him, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. She could feel him getting closer, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his release.

"Y/n, I'm gonna cum," Daniel warned, his voice strained. "If you don't want it in your mouth, you better pull off."

But Y/n just doubled her efforts, sucking harder and faster, determined to make him fall apart.

Daniel's hips jerked as he came, his cock pulsing in Y/n's mouth as he filled it with his release. She moaned around him, the vibrations prolonging his orgasm as he emptied himself down her throat.

Her mouth was full of his cum, and she had a bit of a hard time swallowing it all. But she was determined to take every last drop, her throat working as she gulped it down.

"Such a good girl," Daniel praised, his voice rough with satisfaction. "Sit on my thigh, you deserve to cum."

Y/n climbed up onto the couch, straddling his thigh as she faced him. She could feel his spent cock twitching against her skin, and it made her even wetter.

"How do you want me to cum, Danny?" she asked, her voice breathy with need. "Tell me what to do."

"Hump my thigh, sweetheart," Daniel instructed, his hand coming up to cup her breast through his shirt. "I'll take care of you."

Y/n nodded, grinding her hips against his muscular thigh. She gasped as his fingers found her nipple, pinching and rolling the sensitive bud through the fabric.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, his other hand sliding down to rub her through her soaked panties. "Get yourself off for me."

She whimpered, her hips moving faster as she chased her pleasure. She could feel his cock hardening again against her thigh, and it only spurred her on.

"Danny," she moaned, her head falling back as she rode his thigh. "Feels so good."

Y/n's humping became more desperate, her hips grinding frantically against Daniel's thigh as she chased her release. Whimpers and needy little moans spilled from her lips, her fingers digging into his shoulders for support.

The wetness of her cunt began to seep, leaving a damp spot on his pants as she rode him. Daniel's hand rubbed her faster through the drenched fabric, his fingers pressing against her clit.

"You're doing so well, baby," he praised, his voice low and encouraging. "Keep going for me. Cum when you want to."

Y/n's breath came in short, sharp gasps, her body tensing as she neared the edge. "Danny," she whimpered, her hips stuttering. "I'm gonna cum."

"Do it," he growled, his fingers pushing her panties aside to stroke her directly. "Cum for me, Y/n."

Y/n's body seized up as her orgasm crashed over her, her inner walls clenching and fluttering around nothing. She cried out, her hands wrapping around Daniel's neck as she rode out the intense waves of pleasure.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Daniel's strong arms held her close, one hand stroking her hair gently as the other rubbed soothing circles on her lower back.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, pressing soft kisses to her temple. "You did so good. Such a good girl for me."

Y/n nuzzled into his neck, basking in the afterglow. "Mmm, Danny," she sighed, her voice content and sated. "That was amazing."

Daniel chuckled, his fingers trailing down Y/n's spine. "Really, sweetheart?" he teased, his voice low and husky. "Because I'm not done with you yet."

Y/n lifted her head, her eyes wide with feigned annoyance. "Oh god," she groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically. "You're insatiable."

But there was no real heat behind her words, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She could feel his cock hardening against her thigh once again, and it sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through her.

Y/n lay curled up beside Daniel, her head resting on his chest as she traced lazy patterns on his skin. The late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the rumpled sheets.

"We did it," she murmured, her voice soft and sleepy. "We actually followed through on our little bet."

Daniel chuckled, his fingers carding through her hair. "We sure did," he agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "And I'd say it was a success."

Y/n giggled, her body still tingling from their marathon "Mmm, I'd say so," she purred, nuzzling closer to him. "You wore me out, Danny."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he teased, his arm tightening around her waist. "Though I think we both could use a nap after that."

Y/n yawned, her eyes drifting closed. "Definitely," she mumbled, her breathing already evening out as she slipped into a contented slumber, safe and warm in Daniel's embrace.

Just as Y/n was about to drift off to sleep, Daniel's phone chimed with an incoming call. He glanced at the screen and smirked, seeing his sister's name.

"Hey sis," he answered, putting the call on speaker. "What's up?"

"Hey Dan," his sister replied, her voice chipper. "So I'm buying something for Y/n right now - you know, as a welcome back gift. But I can't decide between a necklace or a lipstick. Any thoughts?"

Y/n's eyes flew open at the mention of her name. She leaned in close to Daniel, whispering in his ear. "I'd prefer a necklace."

Daniel grinned, his hand sliding down to rest on Y/n's hip. "I think a necklace would be a good idea," he said, his voice low and suggestive. "Y/n loves jewelry."

His sister laughed. "Okay, necklace it is then. Thanks for the help, Dan."

"No problem," Daniel said, chuckling. "Now please end the call, I wanna go back to bed."

"Oh, of course!" his sister replied, oblivious to Y/n's presence. "Thanks for the help, Dan. Talk to you later!"

"Later, sis," Daniel said, ending the call. He turned to Y/n with a mischievous grin. "Where were we?"

Y/n laughed, playfully swatting at his chest. "Danny, no," she giggled. "Let me sleep."

Daniel pouted, but he didn't push it. Instead, he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling into her hair. "Fine, fine," he murmured. "But I'm not letting you go just yet."

Y/n sighed contentedly, snuggling into his embrace as she drifted off to sleep, safe and warm in Daniel's arms.

The next few days passed in a blur of passion and excitement for Y/n and Daniel. They spent every waking moment together, their bodies entwined as they explored each other in every way possible. The sex was endless, the feeling of happiness and adrenaline coursing through their veins as they pushed the boundaries of what they could get away with.

One particularly memorable moment came when they were in the middle of a heated session on Daniel's bed, Y/n's moans echoing off the walls, when suddenly there was a loud knock at the front door.

"Daniel? Are you home?" his sister's voice called out. "I need help with my car!"

Y/n's eyes widened in panic, her heart racing as she scrambled to gather her clothes. "Shit, shit, shit," she hissed, frantically trying to pull her panties up her legs.

Daniel quickly grabbed a shirt and threw it on, his eyes darting around the room for a place to hide Y/n. "Closet," he mouthed, pointing to the large walk-in closet. "Now!"

After a few minutes of frantic whispering and hurried explanations, Daniel managed to convince his sister that he knew just what was wrong with her car. He promised to come down and take a look, buying them some time.

As soon as he heard the front door close, Daniel rushed back up the stairs and into his bedroom. He flung open the closet door, finding Y/n curled up on the floor, giggling uncontrollably.

"I'm so sorry about that," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I had no idea she was going to show up."

Y/n just laughed, shaking her head. "It's okay," she said, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "That was actually kind of exciting."

Y/n and Daniel collapsed onto the bed, their laughter echoing off the walls as they clung to each other. The adrenaline of almost getting caught mixed with the sheer joy of their connection, leaving them breathless and giddy.

As their laughter began to subside, Daniel's eyes darkened with desire. He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow as he looked down at Y/n. "You know," he murmured, his voice low and husky, "I never did get to finish what I started."

Y/n's breath hitched, her body already responding to the heat in his gaze. "Oh?" she asked, her voice breathy. "And what exactly did you have in mind?"

Daniel grinned, his hand sliding down her side to rest on her hip. "I think you know," he purred, leaning in close. "I'm going to make you scream my name until you forget all about my sister's unexpected visit."

Y/n shivered, her legs falling open in invitation. "Then what are you waiting for?" she challenged, her eyes glinting with mischief.

2024 - Friday, 3:26 PM

Y/n stood on the doorstep of Daniel's family home, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness. She had been looking forward to this weekend for weeks, but now that the moment was here, she couldn't help but feel a little anxious.

She raised her hand and knocked on the door, smoothing down her dress nervously as she waited. After a moment, the door swung open, revealing Daniel's sister with a bright smile.

"Y/n!" she exclaimed, pulling her into a warm hug. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

Y/n returned the hug, feeling some of her nerves melt away. "Thank you so much for having me," she said, stepping inside. "I'm really excited to spend some time with all of you."

Daniel's sister led her into the living room, where the rest of the family was gathered. Y/n's eyes immediately sought out Daniel, who was sitting on the couch with his parents. He caught her gaze and winked, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Daniel's sister turned to Y/n, her brow furrowed with concern. "Sorry for not being able to pick you up," she said, apologetic. "My car was acting weird, and I didn't want to risk breaking down on the way."

Y/n glanced at Daniel, pretending not to know anything about the car trouble. She offered his sister a reassuring smile. "It's alright," she said, her voice warm and sincere. "I completely understand. I'm just happy to be here with all of you."

Daniel's sister relaxed, her smile returning. "Thanks, Y/n," she said, giving her a quick hug. "I'm glad you're here. It's been too long since we've all gotten together like this."

Y/n nodded, her eyes drifting back to Daniel. He was watching her intently, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. She couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking, her heart skipping a beat at the intensity of his gaze.

Y/n made her way around the room, greeting Daniel's parents and other family members with warm hugs and friendly smiles. She chatted with them briefly, asking about their week and catching up on any news.

When she finally made her way to Daniel, she acted as if they were just casual acquaintances, rather than the lovers who had spent the past few days tangled in each other's arms.

"Hi Daniel," she said, offering him a polite smile. "It's good to see you."

Daniel's eyes sparkled with mischief as he stood up to greet her. "Y/n," he said, his voice low and warm. "I'm so glad you could make it."

He leaned in to hug her, his body pressing close for just a moment longer than was necessary. Y/n suppressed a shiver, remembering the feel of his skin against hers.

As they pulled apart, Daniel's mother called out from across the room. "Daniel, dear, could you help your father bring in the food from the grill? Y/n, why don't you come sit with me and catch up?"

"I'll be staying her for a couple of weeks, unless something happens at work," Y/n jokes. The older woman could only laugh, understanding how work can ruin a vacation.

Daniel's mother nodded, her eyes twinkling with approval. "That's wonderful," she said. "We're so glad you'll be here for a while. It's always a pleasure to have you around."

She leaned in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "And who knows? Maybe you'll even find a nice young man to settle down with while you're here."

Y/n felt her cheeks heat up at the implication, her mind immediately flashing to her secret trysts with Daniel. "Oh, I don't know about that," she said, trying to keep her voice light and casual. "I'm not really looking for anything serious right now."

Daniel's mother waved her hand dismissively. "Nonsense," she said. "You're young and beautiful, you should be out there enjoying life and meeting new people."

Y/n just smiled and nodded, not wanting to reveal the truth about her relationship with Daniel. She knew it would only complicate things, and she wasn't ready to deal with the potential fallout.

Y/n and Daniel's sister were down in the basement, the sound of the pool balls clicking and clacking filling the air. They had been catching up for hours, laughing and reminiscing about old times.

"Remember that time we snuck out to go to that concert?" Daniel's sister asked, lining up her shot. "Your parents were so mad when they found out."

Y/n giggled, taking her own shot and sinking the 8-ball. "They grounded me for a month," she said, grinning. "But it was totally worth it. That show was amazing."

His sister nodded, racking up the balls for another game. "Those were the days," she said, a wistful smile on her face. "I miss being young and carefree like that."

Daniel's sister suddenly snapped her fingers, a light bulb going off in her head. "Oh! I almost forgot," she said, rummaging through her purse. "I have a gift for you."

She pulled out a small, elegantly wrapped box and handed it to Y/n. "Here," she said, grinning. "Consider it a welcome home present."

Y/n's eyes widened as she took the box from Daniel's sister, her mind racing with the memory of that phone call. She had completely forgotten about the conversation between Daniel and his sister, and the fact that she had chosen the necklace without even realizing it.

"Oh wow," she said, carefully opening the box. Inside was a beautiful gold necklace with a delicate pendant in the shape of a butterfly. "It's gorgeous," she breathed, running her fingers over the cool metal.

Daniel's sister beamed, clearly pleased with Y/n's reaction. "I'm so glad you like it," she said. "Daniel said you'd prefer this over lipstick, so I thought it was the perfect choice."

Y/n carefully removed the necklace from the box, her fingers trembling slightly as she fastened the clasp at the back of her neck. The cool metal felt smooth against her skin.

"Thank you so much," she said, turning to face Daniel's sister with a bright smile. "It's absolutely beautiful. I love it."

Daniel's sister grinned, clearly pleased with Y/n's reaction. "I'm so glad you like it," she said, giving Y/n a quick hug. "And I have to say, it looks perfect on you."

Y/n's hand instinctively went to the pendant, her fingers tracing the delicate wings of the butterfly.

Daniel's sister yawned, stretching her arms above her head. "I think I'm going to head up to bed," she said, gathering her things. "It's been a long day."

Y/n nodded, understanding. "Of course, I'll be up in a bit," she said. "I just want to finish this game first."

Daniel's sister smiled, giving Y/n a quick hug before heading up the stairs. As soon as she was gone, Y/n turned back to the pool table, lining up her shot.

She had always been a bit competitive, and she couldn't resist the challenge of sinking all the remaining balls. She took her time, focusing on each shot, the click of the balls, and the thwack of the cue against the felt the only sounds in the basement.

As Y/n lined up her shot, ready to sink the last of the three remaining balls, she heard a clap from the top of the stairs. She turned to see Daniel standing there, a smile on his face.

"Impressive," he said, his voice low and appreciative. "I didn't know you were so good at pool."

She grinned, setting her cue down on the table. "I've been practicing," she said, walking towards him. "But I think you already knew that, didn't you?"

Daniel's eyes darkened as she approached, his gaze trailing over her body. "I knew you were good at a lot of things," he murmured, his voice husky.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat, her body responding to the heat in his gaze. She stopped just in front of him, looking up at him through her lashes. "Is that so?" she asked, her voice breathy.

Daniel closed the distance between them, his hands sliding around her waist as he lifted her up onto the pool table. Y/n gasped, her legs instinctively wrapping around his hips as he stepped between them.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a teasing kiss. "I think you know exactly what I mean," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin.

Y/n's hands slid up his chest, tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer. "Show me," she whispered, her lips hovering just inches from his.

Daniel groaned, his mouth crashing against hers in a passionate kiss. His hands roamed over her body, slipping under her shirt to caress the smooth skin of her back.

Y/n moaned into the kiss, her hips grinding against his. She could feel his hardness pressing against her, and it sent a shiver of desire coursing through her.

"Daniel," she gasped, breaking the kiss to look up at him. "We can't... not here..."

His hands slid down to cup Y/n's face, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. "Shh," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "It's okay. Everyone's asleep. We can..."

He trailed off, his gaze dropping to her lips. "Fuck, you're so pretty," he breathed, his eyes dark with desire.

Y/n's heart raced, her body aching with need. She knew they shouldn't be doing this, not here, not with his family just upstairs. But the way Daniel was looking at her, the way his hands felt on her skin... she couldn't resist.

"Daniel," she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation. "Please..."

Daniel's eyes blazed with desire as he looked down at Y/n, his hands still cupping her face. "Please what, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. "What do you want?"

Y/n's breath hitched, her lips parting slightly as she gazed up at him. "I want you," she whispered, her voice trembling with need. "I want you to touch me, to kiss me, to make me yours."

Daniel groaned, his head dipping to nuzzle into her neck. "Fuck, Y/n," he breathed, his lips brushing against her skin. "You have no idea how badly I want that too."

His hands slid down her body, slipping under her shirt to caress the smooth skin of her stomach. Y/n shivered, her hips arching up to press against him.

"Please, Daniel," she gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair. "I need you."

His lips crashed against Y/n's in a passionate kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth to tangle with hers. Y/n moaned, her fingers tugging at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against hers.

As they kissed, their hands roamed over each other's bodies, exploring and teasing. Y/n's fingers slipped under the waistband of Daniel's shorts, her nails raking over the sensitive skin of his lower back.

"I need you so bad," she gasped, breaking the kiss to look up at him with hooded eyes. "Please, Daniel, I can't wait anymore."

Daniel chuckled, his fingers tangling in her hair. "Patience, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "Now suck."

He brought his fingers to her lips, his meaning clear. Y/n's eyes widened, but she didn't hesitate. She parted her lips, taking his fingers into her mouth and sucking them deep.

After a moment, Daniel pulled his fingers from Y/n's mouth, a low groan escaping his lips at the sensation. "Let go," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

Y/n released his fingers, her eyes dark and needy as she watched him. Daniel's free hand moved to her shorts, his fingers deftly pushing the fabric and her panties to the side.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he breathed, his fingers brushing against her slick folds. Y/n gasped, her hips bucking up to meet his touch.

Slowly, Daniel pushed his spit-covered fingers into her tight heat, his thumb circling her clit as he did. Y/n cried out, her head falling back against the pool table as pleasure coursed through her.

Daniel's fingers pumped in and out of Y/n's wet heat, his thumb circling her clit in tight, teasing circles. "That feels good, doesn't it?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Just like all the times I've fucked you this week. On the couch, on the kitchen counter, in the bathtub…"

Y/n moaned, her hips rocking against his hand. "Yes," she gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "God, yes. It feels so good."

Daniel grinned, his eyes dark with lust. "I love seeing you like this," he growled, his fingers curling inside her, hitting that spot that made her see stars. "I love knowing that I'm the only one who can make you feel this way."

Y/n's breath came in short, sharp gasps, her body tensing as she neared the edge. "Daniel," she whimpered, her nails raking down his back. "Please, I need more."

Y/n whined in protest as Daniel suddenly pulled his fingers from her sopping cunt, leaving her empty and aching for more. But her whine quickly turned into a gasp as she felt the head of his cock pressing against her sensitive clit.

"Daniel," she breathed, her hips bucking up to meet his touch. "Please, I need you inside me."

Daniel chuckled, his eyes dark with lust as he looked down at her. "Patience, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "I'm going to take my time with you."

He rocked his hips, the tip of his cock sliding through her wet folds, teasing her entrance but not quite pushing inside. Y/n moaned, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she tried to pull him closer.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," Daniel groaned, his hips circling, spreading her arousal around her clit. "I can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock."

He finally pushed forward, his thick cock sliding into Y/n's tight heat in one smooth stroke. Y/n's mouth opened in a silent scream of pleasure, her eyes rolling back as he filled her completely.

Daniel covered her mouth with his hand, his fingers pressing against her lips. "Shh," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "We can't have anyone hearing you, can we?"

Y/n shook her head, her lips brushing against his fingers as she nodded. She bit down on his hand, muffling her moans as Daniel began to move, his hips rocking against hers in a steady rhythm.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his free hand gripping her hip tightly. "So tight and wet and perfect."

Y/n's nails raked down his back, her hips lifting to meet his thrusts. The pool table creaked beneath them, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the basement.

Y/n rocked her hips against Daniel's, her clit rubbing against his pelvis with each thrust. The friction was delicious, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her body.

"Oh god, Daniel," she gasped, her voice muffled against his hand. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Daniel's grip on her hip tightened, his thrusts becoming harder, faster. "Fuck, Y/n," he groaned, his hips snapping against hers. "You're so fucking tight. I'm not going to last much longer."

Y/n could feel her orgasm building, her body tensing as she neared the edge. "Me neither," she whimpered, her nails digging into his back. "I'm so close, Daniel. Please, make me cum."

Daniel's hand slid from her mouth to her breast, his fingers pinching and rolling her nipple through the thin fabric of her shirt. "Cum for me, Y/n," he growled, his hips pounding into her. "Cum all over my cock like the good girl you are."

Daniel's thrusts became erratic, his body tensing as he neared his own release. "Fuck, Y/n," he groaned, his hips slamming into hers. "I'm going to cum."

Y/n's orgasm hit her like a freight train, her body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. "Daniel!" she cried out, her voice echoing in the basement.

Daniel thrust deep one last time, his cock pulsing as he spilled his seed inside her. He rocked his hips, pushing his cum deeper, his fingers digging into her hips.

Y/n's walls fluttered around him, milking him for every last drop. She could feel his hot cum filling her, the sensation prolonging her own orgasm.

As Daniel's orgasm subsided, he began to pull out of Y/n, his softening cock slipping from her sensitive heat. But before he could fully withdraw, a voice rang out from the top of the stairs. "What the actual fuck?"

Daniel and Y/n both froze, their eyes widening as they looked up to see Daniel's sister standing at the bottom of the stairs, her mouth hanging open in shock.

taglist:

@nepobbylver @wobblymug @xoscar03 @irishmanwhore @nitiii

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[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Solstice Gifts

A/N: Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! 🎄✨ This is a collection of short drabbles of how I imagine ACOTAR men would give the reader a gift during Solstice. I originally planned to write for all the High Lords, but I ran out of time (and ideas). Still, I hope you enjoy this!

Azriel

Being Feyre’s younger sister, you were new to Rhys’s inner circle and Azriel wasn’t sure if you would accept a gift from him, or if it would even be appropriate. So when the time came for exchanging presents, he didn't immediately hand you his.

As a Shadowsinger and a Spymaster, he had observed what you liked and wanted. So when he decided to get you a gift, he let his shadows quietly place it in your room, unwilling to cross that boundary himself.

When you returned that evening, you found it waiting for you, simply wrapped with a small card in his neat handwriting: For you. From Azriel.

The simple words made you smile, warmth blooming in your chest. But your surprise only grew when you unwrapped the gift and found the very thing you’ve been quietly wanting for so long.

Later that night, you made your way to his room, your nerves making you knock so soft you almost hoped he wouldn’t hear it. But his sharp senses caught it anyway, and when he opened the door, his eyes widened slightly in surprise at the sight of you standing there.

You stammered a little before managing to thank him, your cheeks warm. He dipped his head slightly, his voice low as he replied, “I wanted you to have something that mattered, something that you truly wanted.”

On impulse, you stepped onto your toes and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. You thanked him again, before pulling back and reluctantly walking back to your room.

His heart skipped a beat, shadows curling around his shoulders as he watched you go. Part of him wanted to call after you, to say something to make you stay, but he held back. It wasn’t the right time…not yet.

Cassian

Unlike Azriel, Cassian was anything but subtle. When you joined Rhys’s inner circle, he couldn’t resist flirting with you at every opportunity. Your friendship quickly became filled with playful banter, though you almost always dismissed his shameless remarks with an eye roll or a sharp retort.

On Winter Solstice evening, as everyone exchanged presents, he plopped down beside you on the couch, his thigh pressing comfortably against yours. You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “What do you want?” you asked, half exasperated, half amused.

“I want nothing,” he said, grinning as he handed you a small box. The wrapping was so crumpled it looked as though he’d wrestled it into submission. You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head as you opened it.

Inside was a stunning necklace with a rare gemstone. For a moment, you were speechless. His taste had completely taken you by surprise, you hadn’t thought a warrior like Cassian would pick out something so elegant. “This is…beautiful,” you said softly, unsure of what else to say as you leaned in and wrapped your arms around him in thanks.

When you pulled back, his grin widened, and you knew what was coming even before he opened his mouth. “I thought about how good that stone would look between your breasts and couldn’t resist getting it,” he muttered, his tone dripping with playful mischief.

Your jaw dropped, your face heating as you stared at him, momentarily speechless. Then, you elbowed him lightly in the ribs. “You’re absolutely shameless.” Though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Cassian only laughed, leaning back into the couch with a satisfied smirk. “You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

Rhysand

Rhys whisks you away to the top of the House of Wind, Velaris glittering below you. With a wave of his hand, a small box appears in his grasp. “Go on, open it,” he urges, his violet eyes sparkling with anticipation.

You do as he says, carefully unwrapping the box to reveal a pendant with a tiny glowing star encased within. “Rhys, you shouldn’t have,” you murmur, awe and gratitude flooding your voice.

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple before replying with a smirk and a wink. “Oh, that’s nothing…wait till you see what I’ve got planned for you in the bedroom.”

You give him a pointed look before shaking your head. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he quips, his smirk widening. “And I don’t just mean in the bedroom. There are more gifts waiting for you there. Come on, let’s go.” He takes your hand and begins leading you downstairs, his excitement barely contained.

“Rhysss!” you groan, pouting slightly as he tugs you along. “I told you, I don’t need gifts. Having you is enough.”

He pauses mid-step, turning to cup your cheek and pinch it playfully. “I know, darling,” he says softly. “But I can’t help it. I want to shower you with gifts and spoil you like you deserve. After all, you are my greatest gift, and there’s nothing I can do that could ever compare.”

Lucien

Feyre had invited Lucien to this year’s Winter Solstice, and although his duties kept him busy, he had agreed to come, if only for the chance to spend more time with you, his mate. Though you hadn’t accepted the bond yet, you hadn’t rejected it either. This was all new to you, and Lucien had resolved to give you as much time and space as you needed, not wanting to push or make you uncomfortable in the slightest.

He had missed you. It had been months since he last saw you, back in the summer. So when you descended the stairs that evening, his heart drummed wildly in his chest. His amber eye and russet gaze tracked your every step until your eyes met his. You greeted him with a polite nod, and he returned it, the faintest of smiles playing on his lips.

Throughout the evening, he lingered on the edge of the festivities, watching you from afar as the others exchanged gifts, laughed, and drank. Finally, mustering his courage, he approached you, his palms damp with nervousness.

“I came across this during my travels,” he muttered softly, handing you a small package wrapped in elegant paper. “I thought you might like it.” Curiosity piqued, you unwrapped the gift, revealing a vintage wooden box. Inside lay a pair of earrings, their intricate design unlike anything you’d ever seen. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the kind of artistry that carried stories within its details.

When you looked up, you found him watching you intently, his gaze warm but hesitant. “It’s nothing compared to what you deserve,” he murmured in a low tone. “But…it’s from the heart.” A small, almost shy smile curved his lips. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before speaking. “I have a small gift for you too.”

His brows furrowed in confusion as you disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later, you returned, holding a single cupcake on a small plate. Handing it to him, you said softly, “I hope you like chocolate. I baked it myself.”

At first, Lucien didn't react. Then realization dawned on his face. “Oh. OH!” His voice rose slightly as the significance of your gesture hit him. “Is this wh- are you aware of what this means in fae tradition?”

You nodded, a faint blush dusting your cheeks.

His breath hitched. “Are you sure?” He searched your gaze for any hesitation. But when you smiled and nodded again, his resolve melted.

Lucien carefully picked up the cupcake, taking a deliberate bite. His eyes closed briefly as he savored it before opening again, now glowing with warmth and joy. “It’s delicious,” he said, his voice dipping slightly as he stressed the word. “Thank you.”

Setting the cupcake aside, he stepped closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “May I?” he whispered.

When you nodded again, he closed the small distance between you, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss so soft and full of longing it stole your breath. It wasn’t just a kiss, it was a promise, a declaration, and the sealing of the bond he had waited so long for.

Eris

Being Rhysand’s sister and Eris being Beron’s son made your relationship…complicated, to say the least. Some days, you couldn’t stand the sight of each other. Other days, the tension simmered so hot it was impossible to think of anything but dragging each other to the nearest bed…or any available surface to fuck.

Eris, of course, would never admit it, not even to himself, but he was in love with you.

On Winter Solstice, he sent an urgent message demanding you meet him halfway between your courts, in a clearing deep in the forest. His tone had been curt, and you’d feared the worst as you rushed to the meeting spot.

When you arrived, he stepped out of the shadows with his usual smirk. Before you could say a word, he tossed something at you. “Catch.”

Instinct kicked in, and you lunged to catch the small package before it hit the ground. Straightening, you narrowed your eyes at him, holding the elaborately wrapped gift in your hands. “This was the ‘urgent’ matter?” Eris shrugged, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. His gaze flickered to the horizon, refusing to meet yours. “It’s nothing big. Don’t read too much into it. Just…open it.” His voice was smooth, nonchalant, but you could sense the tension beneath it. He stood rooted in place, his head tilted as though he wasn’t watching you, but you could feel the weight of his focus. A part of him feared you’d hate it. Another part clung to the hope that you’d like it, that your eyes would sparkle and you’d smile, that rare, genuine smile he secretly craved.

Slowly, you unwrapped the package. Inside was a bracelet, simple yet elegant, crafted with the kind of skill only found in the Autumn Court. The small fire-red gemstone set into it caught the light like a glowing ember, warm and alive.

And there it was…that flicker of surprise, the soft curve of your lips, the quiet joy in your eyes. He’d found what he was looking for, and it was enough. That moment was his true gift this Solstice.

But when you glance up to thank him, he was already turning away. “Happy Solstice,” he murmured, his voice cool and distant, as though the gift hadn’t taken him weeks to choose.

Before you could respond, he winnowed out, disappearing into the night without a backward glance. Because if he’d stayed, if he’d looked into your eyes again, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to stop himself.

[retiredteabag]

learning together - Christmas Special

parental Gojo attempts to get Megumi in a Christmassy mood, it appears to be more of a challenge than he thought.

pt. 1

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Ice crystalized the window of Satoru's Tokyo apartment, A thick dusting of snow laid atop the city below, and the house smelled distinctly of mulling spices and his favorite "sugar cookie" candle. But the teenage boy had a deep sense of dread when he remembered that he had no idea what his little pupil wanted for Christmas.

Typically, Satoru did not live with Tsumiki or Megumi; he paid for them to have their own place closer to their school. But with the end of the year came winter break, and a wide gap of time for the children to be home alone. That, and as he so often found himself saying these days,

"It's Christmas!!!!"

Tsumiki would giggle, and Megumi would roll his eyes. This phase had propagated into Satoru's vocabulary ever since the children's last day of class when Megumi had asked on the road out of school,

"Why do we have to go to your place? Can't we just stay at home?"

Tsumiki had glared harshly at the boy and nudged him to be quiet. But Megumi just furrowed his brows and softly whispered, "What?"

Satoru leaned back in the passenger seat of his car, an assistant had accompanied them because 1) Gojo doesn't like to drive, and 2) he wanted someone else to unpack all of the kid's stuff so they could spend that time settling in.

As it would later turn out, Megumi was closely attached to his backpack and refused to let anyone else touch it. Odd kid, that one.

Gojo had grinned then, "Becaauuuse" He began in a whining tone, "It's Christmas! You can't be all alone for the holidays!"

The little boy turned to look out the window, fog had accumulated so he could not view of the passing busy street, he avoided Gojo's covered gaze and squeezed his bag handle. "'M not alone. I've got Tsumiki." He mumbled, resting the crown of his head on the door.

Since then, every time Megumi made some negative comment, be it about: Satoru's overindulgence at cafes, the excessive decorating, or even his hyper attitude, Satoru would reply,

"Megumi, it's the Christmas season, be a little more jolly!"

But it seemed more evident as the days went by that Megumi did not have a jolly bone in his body. That, accompanied by his inability to come up with his wish list for Santa, Satoru was discouraged.

"Santa isn't real, Gojo." The boy would huff, rolling his eyes.

"How do you know that?" Gojo would pout, pointing out that at least his big sister humored him with the Santa stuff.

The boy would just pull his, 'are you really being serious right now' face and attempt to extricate himself from the conversation.

One day, after much time purchasing Sanrio toys, art supplies, lip glosses, new shoes, an adorable tea set, a bundle of DS games, and virtually any other gift he could imagine for Tsumiki, and stowing them away in one of his many walk-in closets, he called the young girl into the kitchen.

Megumi was reading in on of Gojo's guest rooms, avoiding everyone.

"Every time I ask him what he wants he just gets all grumpy and tells me not to get him anything..." Satoru confessed after thanking the girl for her willingness to make a list to Santa that included: A cute plushy or maybe new colored pencils?

Santa would pull through on her requests, of course, but Megumi hardly even said anything about food he enjoyed, let alone anything "unnecessary". Every time Satoru found something the boy might like, he got the image of an upset or disappointed Megumi and felt his stomach drop. The kid was hard to shop for, to say the least.

"He won't complain about anything! I promise, Gojo, he just... doesn't...like asking for things." Tsumiki smiled at her benefactor, so mature. From an outsider's perspective, it would seem as though a little girl was consoling a very oversized child who just fell on the playground and scraped his knee.

"But...Why?" Satoru groaned, looking to the girl for some idea of how to make the boy smile. It was Christmas for goodness sake. "I don't want him to 'not complain' I want him to get him something exciting, something he really wants."

Tsumiki twisted her mouth and twiddled her thumbs, "I think...hmm", she cut herself off, rethinking what she meant to say, "I think he already feels so indebted to you, you know? I think it would just upset him to ask for a present."

Satoru opened his mouth, only to close it a few times. He had no words. Why would a child, a boy who has practically just learned to read, feel as if he owes him something?

It was this event that caused Gojo to switch his mindset. If the boy refused to ask for something verbally, Satoru would use his innate talent of observation to deduce for himself what the boy wanted. He would unearth every little wish inside that emotionally constipated boy's heart.

A day later, Satoru found the kids on the floor in the living room, drawing together by the fireplace. Under closer inspection, it was clear why Tsumiki wanted new colored pencils. The ones she had been using in school were practically nubs, she had to hold them at an odd angle to be able to draw properly.

"Watcha dooooin'?" Satoru strolled into the living room, carrying bags of sweets and tissue paper.

"Drawing!" Tsumiki sang back. Her brother huffed and caged his arms around his sheet of paper. Trying to hide his drawing, he put his head down and scribbled some more.

"Ooooo! That's fun!" Satoru called out, tiptoeing to the master bedroom, "Don't let me bother you, I've got some top-secret Santa business to get up to-" Satoru spun around, turning this way and that in a comical show of 'spying', "You kids better stay out of my room!" He squinted at them, "It's never good to be nosy around Christmas!"

Tsumiki laughed and nodded at Gojo but Megumi made a face that showed clearly what a fool he thought the man was. What he didn't know, is that Satoru had real good eyes, and for the first time all week, he had an idea of how to get the boy in the Christmas spirit.

--

The image of Megumi's green crayon scrawled across a sketched pine tree stuck out in Satorus mind as he zipped up Tsumiki's coat. "C'mon Megs! The trees aren't gonna pick themselves!"

Megumi hurriedly called, "I'm coming! Just-ugh- gimmie one second!" as he fumbled with his shoe laces.

"Hey buddy, no rush, I can help." Satoru knelt down on the floor, still a head taller than the boy, he bent and tightened the laces.

The boy's eyes twitched, he had stumbled and clung to Gojo's shoulder for a moment before embarrassment flooded him and he huffed.

Satoru stood, patted the boy's head, and ushered them out the door.

On the eve of the big day, and for the first time, it was clear, Megumi was as excited as Tsumiki, though he tried to hide it, his spine was straight, he was wide awake, his hands tapped his lap unknowingly, and he kept puffing air in his cheeks, he could hardly wait to get to Christmas tree farm.

The boy was brimming with anticipation.

As much as Satoru wanted to follow the kids around, pestering them about what trees they liked, he decided to fall back, allowing them to meander and play amongst themselves. Although unspoken, Tsumiki had been trying to help Satoru in bringing her brother out of his shell. It hadn't really changed much outside of learning that the boy liked reading just a bit more than Gojo suspected.

"GOJO!! GOJO!!" The little girl eventually spun around and waved her arms around in the air. "LOOK! THI- This one-" She inhaled deeply, "Don't you think...it's nice?"

Megumi, who had privately been grinning with his sister just a moment prior, was now avoiding his benefactor's eyes, shifting his weight awkwardly while pretending to be occupied by the snow on his shoe.

"Nice? Oh, Miki, I think it's perfect!" He ran around the tree and came to the other side of them, "Only... Megumi? Do you think this one is right as well?"

Tsumiki stood by the tall man now, blinking at the boy expectantly.

"Mmm." He nodded after a second.

"'Mmm' yes? Or 'Mmm' 'let's find a different one'?"

"'Mmm' yes." He stood up straight and decided.

Satoru pumped his fist, "Whooooo! We got a Christmas tree! Oh boy! I can't wait to decorate! Good thing the farm has got some stuff, huh?"

By the time they had wrapped the tree to the top of a staff vehicle and acquired just about every ounce of tinsel and bows the little shop had, the children's noses were pink with cold and the sun was beginning to crest the horizon.

Not too long ago, Satoru had been feeling deep-seated dread around the Christmas atmosphere or lack thereof. Now, as he raced back to the car to start heating the seats, he had a spring in his step.

--

Satoru, surprisingly, was quite a good cook, unfortunately, they hadn't the time for a homecooked meal when they had important tree-decorating-business to attend to, so they ordered take out and got straight to work.

The three of them worked as a team to adorn the branches with twinkles of silver and velvet ribbon. Satoru had purchased far too many strands of lights so they set aside bunchs of them to decorate the kids rooms.

After taking a moment to back away, they all admired their diligent work. It was beautiful, all lit up and sparkling. Satoru had never felt so grown up. Buying a tree and decorating it himself.

After grinning to themselves, Satoru noticed. Oh, how had he forgotten? It's the most important part!

"The topper!" He groaned. "Ughhhh what are we gonna do...I guess I can go out and buy one..." He mumbled, he spun around, hoping to avoid any sighs of disappointment from the little ones. He looked at the clock on the wall and realized how late it was getting.

Tomorrow was Christmas. Everything was closed. Satoru was just about to suggest making one of their own when Tsumiki spoke up.

"Umm... Gojo... Megumi has something to say." She poked at him with her shoe.

There was a long pause before he spoke, "Well....".

But then he was rushing from the living room. Trapsing his way back to the bedroom he was staying in. Satoru felt awful. He wanted everything to feel like a family event.

"What... was that?" The white haired man began, "Is he... that upset?"

Tsumiki didn't even have time to disagree before the boy was racing from the threshold again, this time, something behind his back. He was huffing and puffing with the effort of his speed.

"What've you got there Megs?" The boy still had his hands behind his back. He looked a bit strange with his elbows bent all weird.

"We can... just use this." He spoke so lowly, it was as though he was ashamed. "If we haven't got anything else."

Imagine Satoru's surprise when the boy, who had been the grinch incarnate since day one, brought out a glass star tree topper. It seemed as though it had been hand painted, perhaps a school project. When did Megumi get this?

It took a moment before the oldest of the three spoke, this seemed to discourage Megumi and he was about to hide it once more, saying, "We don't need to... it's not very good."

"NO!" Both Satoru and the boy's sister practically screeched. "NOT VERY GOOD???" Satoru basically flung himself to his knees to get a better look. His glasses had long since been on his head, but he yanked them off, as though they might obstruct the boy's creation. "IT"S GORGEOUS!"

"You're over doing it..." The boys brows were furrowed. Satoru knew the kid was trying to play it off as if he wasn't happy with the older boy, but Megumi's lips were twitching.

"This!" Satoru tilted his nose to the ceiling, "Is the finest of tree toppers! I do declare! How dare you keep this from us! This is what we've needed all along."

--

That night, Megumi would lay in bed, recalling how it felt to be lifted so high, setting his little star atop the tree. His teacher in the week prior had loudly told the class to hang up their stars with their family over Christmas break. There was a strange giddiness he felt knowing he was able to use it. To know it was hung up, not hidden in his school bag.

That morning Satoru had woken the kids up early, skipping into their bedrooms to announce that Santa had come in the night.

"Wow. Santa sure does like cookies..." Megumi almost smiled as he pointed out that the sweets on the counter from the days before were nearly gone.

"Right you are Megumi! I like how you think, we'll need to get more!"

Gojo watched as the kids opened their numerous gifts. The both of them seemed quite uncomfortable with the stacks they had laid out at first. Tsumiki jumped with joy after opening the smallest box, a designer set of colored pencils along with a new sharpener. And that, more than anything, made her little brother smile.

Megumi, however, had a harder time accepting his gifts. Christmas evening, after opening new clothing to grow into, book after book, dog toys, and much more. He found himself watching Satoru from the living room as his sister played games on her DS.

"Whatcha lookin' at Megs?"

Satoru hadn't even peered up from the dish sink, but he knew Meg's had been eyeing him.

"Nothing." Megs turned away and watched Tsumiki reach a new level.

Oddly, he felt like crying. Did he not want it to end? Did he feel guilty? Did he wish he had gotten something else? No, he knew it wasn't any of that.

And then it struck him. This felt an awful lot like a family... it hurt him deep in his stomach and sent pricks to his eyes. Satoru, of course, could tell something was brewing in the boy but he just couldn't get him to say anything.

It wasn't until Gojo was tucking Megumi in for the night, (for the very first time) that he asked.

"Well Megs, was it a good Christmas?"

The boy just nodded and pulled the duvet to his nose.

"Did Santa do a good job, or was there something else you were wishing for?"

The thought struck the boy as insulting.

"No. It was seriously too much, Gojo."

"Hey, kid, don't blame me, that was alllllllll the big guy."

"So were all those cookies going missing..." Megs rolled his eyes.

"Now you're getting it." Satoru decided not to push his luck with patting the boys head and lifted himself to his full height. "Well..." he rolled his head over too the door, "I'm going to go say good night to your sister."

It was at this precise moment, just as Satoru was leaving, that Megumi had a wave pass over him. He tried to sit up but it was too much. He forced the words out, shutting his eyes.

"I wish you would s-stay."

After he said it he breathed a huge sigh, as if it was the most challenging thing he's done.

"What was that?" Gojo's eyes were huge, confused. He sped over to the boys bed, kneeling once more, "What did you say?"

It was too hard to get out again. Megumi just shrugged and felt blood fill his cheeks.

"Did you ask me to stay?" Satoru seemed to chase the boys eyes with his head, leaning over into Megumi's space. "Do you mean here? Or... with you? You and Tsumiki?"

Megumi tugged his comforter to his nose once more, hiding the majority of his face. "With us. Like this."

Years later, Megumi would groan every time he would recall this moment, but for now, it was just for Satoru and him, and his warm toned desk lamp.

"Hey, kid, I'm not goin' anywhere."

Satoru smiled but Megumi wouldn't meet his eye.

"'Cause it's Christmas?"

Satoru's smile widened and this time, he did pat Megumi's head.

"Nah, 'cause I don't want to."

[yinyuedijun]

HI CARROT (may I call you carrot?), thank you so much for the very kind feedback on this fic 🥺💗 I am so very glad that we exist in the same timeline where you decided to give this very silly piece a chance!!!

thank you for taking the time to write out your thoughts in such detail!!!! I can't help but respond to some of your observations, in particular the comments around hypersexuality and sex work. hypersexuality is a topic that is heavily nuanced imo. though it can of course be an uncomplicated behaviour for a lot of people (and it is usually depicted as such in fanfic - which imo is totally fine!), It is irl also a behaviour that is often coupled with self-esteem and safety issues irl and can actually be a pretty severe trauma response. I was trying to get at those aspects of hypersexuality within this narrative and I'm very glad that your interpretation of this fic kinda matches that!

SIMILARLY I do think sex work is equally complicated. despite the glamorous representations in fiction (and sometimes reality), I absolutely agree that it is often just a means to an end. BUT I still wrote this with the knowledge that the industry is often entangled with trafficking and exploitation and psychological stress. I wanted the reader to basically be somewhere in the middle of all that context - she has been exploited but she is also a hustler within her own right nowadays (as much as suo allows her to be lol) and I'm very happy that at least some of my efforts were apparent here. I'm especially glad to hear that you felt it was thoughtful representation even from your pov as someone who's researched and worked a lot in the field!!!! I've never studied any of this formally (I'm just going off informal research and limited personal experience) so I super appreciate your feedback!

ALSO. your point about the asian parenting floored me because I didn't write this couple with that dynamic in mind, BUT I too am asian and was raised with pretty traditionally minded parents. i totally agree with the parallels you are drawing here and can't help but wonder if that was some of my personal experience and ideas of love coming thru in the fic lol... thematically it also makes sense because suo and mc had tenuous parental figures (they lost the best one they had) and really did have to start parenting each other after their master's death. so even if it was not a conscious decision to write tiger parenting... I do think you are speaking facts here LOLOL

If I could, I'd respond to all your other super thoughtful observations (THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THEM ), but I fear I will bore you with all the yapping. so I will just reiterate that I endlessly appreciate your comments and can't thank you enough for them. I will definitely be returning to them on rainy days when I feel like quitting writing haha. thank you for being so encouraging!!!

SENDING U LOVE !!!!!

TOKYO VICE | part 2

“Do you remember,” Suo begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?” You tense. “No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs. “Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers and starts pulling the fabric down your sticky thighs—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.” (Or: Tired of your lies and self-deception, Suo takes matters into his own hands and forces the truth out of you.)

12.8k words. suo x fem reader. deeply unserious yakuza au ft. yandere suo. mostly unrepentant smut, comedy, angst. warnings: sex work. nsft tags: afab reader, emotional sex, fingering, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, pussyjob, just the tip, creampie. suo is mean and makes you cry but there's no degradation, he's just a bastard lol. he also manhandles you a lot and you sit in his lap. dividers by @/cafekitsune!

part 1 here

You're surprised at Suo’s indifference to your sex life.

A month has gone by, and he’s made no comment on your habit of sleeping with customers, nor on the hours during which you come home—which are now even later than usual, since you have express permission to sleep with people and have no need to rush back to the penthouse after your ‘appointments’. And it isn't as if he's ignoring the reality of your late nights either. In a stunning show of respect for your personal freedom, he now actively offers to arrange for someone to pick you up from whichever love hotel you'll end up at. (You always decline, of course—if you're going to pretend to be his wife, you'd rather pretend to be a faithful one.)

Ironically, you had initially thought that Suo’s approval wouldn't matter either way. You had found the sex with your clients to be so uninspiring that it made you miss celibacy, so you were planning on stopping. But it turned out that you were deeply affected by the experience of sitting in Suo’s lap as he talked about his expectation of deciding whose cocks you should be allowed to take. It did something horrible to your sex drive, and thus you turned to work as your only outlet.

You spent around three weeks desperately trying to find a customer to satisfy your urges—or at the very least, to fuck you in a way that could get you to stop thinking of Suo whenever you got even a little horny. You were faced with utter failure in this pursuit, and in the end, bleakly resigned yourself to the reality that your shameful attraction to your best friend is incurable. You’ve now given up on the love hotel visits and simply take care of your needs with a vibrator instead. At least this way, you can actually say Suo’s name while you cum, rather than constantly reminding yourself to say your customer’s name instead.

The freedom of letting yourself fantasise about Suo has been exhilarating, but terrible for your friendship. It’s just difficult to sit across from him at breakfast and act like you haven't touched yourself at the table while he was gone, fantasising about what it would be like if he bent you over it and fucked you dumb. But you are a decent actor—hostessing demands that of you—so you don't think Suo has caught onto your carnal desires for him. Hopefully, he never will.

Another couple of weeks pass like this. Things are so calm that you come to believe that Suo is genuinely fine with you having some degree of sexual freedom, at least at work. This, however, turns out to be nothing short of naïvete.

After all, Suo is never forceful when he's upset with your decisions—but he also never fails to redirect them.

One spring evening, you show up at the kyabakura and are told that you’re only to see one customer tonight, and that it will be a private session.

“But we don't do private sessions here,” you say, blissfully unaware of your imminent suffering, “and we don't even have private rooms at this establishment.”

To this, your mamasan responds that the club is making an exception for this one guest, and that this guest has rented out the rooftop bar just to see you. When you ask just who this person might be, a look of mild panic flashes through her eyes. She grabs you by the shoulders and tells you to be careful. Just keep him happy and go home after, okay? she says. Don't go out for drinks, and definitely don't go to any love hotels. Don’t tell him your real name at any cost. You don't want to involve yourself with a man like him.

A sense of dread fills you as you step into the elevator.

A cool breeze greets you when you step onto the rooftop patio. Normally bustling with a raucous crowd, it almost feels eerie in its emptiness. Aside from the glow of the red light district beneath you and the city skyline in the distance, the only light is coming from the candles lighting one of the booths.

Your anxiety intensifies as you approach it.

You aren't very surprised at the sight of Suo lounging on a leather couch, dressed in full criminal regalia—infamous eyepatch, tassel earrings, and all. Sakura once mentioned that this club is connected to some colour gang, so you figure that the manager likely recognized Gui Yanzhao on sight. He probably suffered a minor angina when he did. The mamasan herself has no criminal ties to your knowledge, but she was probably informed that one of her girls was to entertain a high-profile yakuza, and she was likely worried that you'd been maimed in the process. Gui Yanzhao has a bit of a reputation for being a sadist, after all.

While you appreciate her concern, it is not Suo’s history of violence that scares you, but his history of antagonising you. On good days, there's nothing that delights him more than seeing you flustered or off-kilter. On bad days, there’s nothing that consoles him like spiteful retaliation against whomever's managed to piss him off—and you have, without a doubt, managed to piss him off.

You groan as soon as you see him, fearing the worst for your mental health.

“What are you doing here,” you say, and Suo smiles.

“Oh? You're not happy to see me?”

“No,” you moan. “How are you even here right now? Aren't you worried about being assassinated or something? Who did you terrorise to get an entire rooftop bar to yourself?”

“I have a very cordial relationship with all the major organisations on Keisei Street and was promised immunity during my visit tonight,” Suo says neatly. “And I didn't terrorise anyone. I simply walked into this fine establishment and politely asked for a private space to enjoy with my preferred hostess.”

Neither of you need to mention that the sight of the tassel earrings alone would be enough to terrorise someone. The manager probably felt like he was being extorted just from being on the receiving end of Suo’s smile. Actually, you currently feel like you're being extorted too.

You spend a good few moments giving him a look of open distress, to which he smiles.

“You know,” he says, “for a top-ranking hostess, you're not showing much hospitality right now.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

You force yourself to stop, remembering that you are, in fact, at work. Despite your mixed feelings about your industry, at the end of the day, you pride yourself on your work ethic. You take your job very seriously, and your job right now is to entertain your customer—even if said customer is your fake yakuza husband who is toying with you as a cat would a mouse.

Resigning yourself to a night of probable humiliation (one of Suo's greatest passions in addition to lying for comedy), you walk over to sit yourself next to him. And just like in Red Dragon’s lounge, Suo overturns the decision by pulling you into his lap. Your eyes go wide as he settles you on top of him—because unlike the intimate space of that crime scene, this is expressly forbidden behaviour at your club.

Also, unlike that other night, you are currently wearing the shortest dress imaginable and the tiniest thong you own.

You find yourself shivering as Suo's hand settles on your lower back, which is fully exposed thanks to the cut of your dress. You try not to focus on the calloused press of his fingers against your bare skin, but this is an exceedingly difficult endeavour, as his touch has been featured in your sexual fantasies for the past several weeks. Worse yet—your dress is now riding up your ass, and your thong isn't doing much to cover you. Whatever material his pants are made of—light, delicate—feels incredibly good against your thighs too.

If this continues, you might cum on the spot.

“Wait,” you say, and Suo raises a brow.

“Oh?”

“You aren't supposed to touch the hostesses here.”

He smiles. “I'm sure this place might be able to make an exception for me. But only if you are personally willing to, of course.”

“...”

Making an exception for him, in your current situation, would be among the worst decisions you've ever made. But after two of the most sexually frustrating months of your life, you’re ready to make horrible decisions.

“Fine,” you say. “But you better not cheap out on the drinks. The mamasan will only overlook this if you make it worth our while.”

“Of course,” Suo says. “Though I think she’d overlook a lot of things for me regardless.”

Suo makes good on his promise and orders a great deal of alcohol. All top shelf, of course. He laughs that his goal is to bring you to the number 1 ranking with his patronage alone tonight. It’s a hideous display of wealth.

As you pour him an absurdly expensive drink (a Hibiki 30 year-old blended whiskey), you reminisce on how little money you both used to have as teens. He had to be so careful with his wallet whenever he felt like visiting you—or rather, checking in on you—at work. Especially after your master passed. The two of you were very good about staying financially independent, but there was something comforting about your master’s promise to support you if anything ever happened.

With him gone, you and Suo had only financial paranoia and each other.

You guess that might have affected Suo more than you thought. Perhaps he didn't join the yakuza to spite you, but to support you. Certainly, he seems to enjoy spoiling you right now—treating you to drinks that would easily clear a year of his salary as a teen, buying out an entire night of your time at a high end club, renting out a whole floor just so that he can have you to himself. When you point out that his tab must be getting catastrophic, he only laughs.

“I did always say that I wanted to spend money on you,” he recalls. It had been a running joke during your days at the girls’ bar, when you scolded him for paying 3000¥ per hour just to visit you. You hated that he was wasting money on the red light district; he always replied that it wasn't a waste, because it was money spent to see you.

You feel your stomach flutter at the comment. You didn't think he'd remember words from so long ago. As a teenager, you had a tendency of clinging onto small, inconsequential moments with him because they brought you so much joy. You’ve always assumed he would have forgotten them, writing them off as instances of shallow teasing—but if he remembers, then surely they meant something to him too?

This would all make you feel sentimental if you weren't outrageously horny.

Suo has kept you on his lap the whole evening, even as you pour him drinks. Every movement to serve him has you involuntarily rubbing on his thigh, and you're quite certain at this point that he's been lifting your skirt up inch by inch with every casual touch on your waist. You don't bother accusing him of it, though. He'd just give you an innocent look and say that it was an accident. What a horrible man.

Accident or not though, it doesn't change the fact that your nearly bare cunt is pressed right against him. You keep trying to shift positions to pull down your skirt or lift yourself off him, but each attempt only makes it worse—brings the soft fabric of his pants right against your pussy, or makes your clit drag against his thigh, with only your thong separating your bodies. You try to suppress your arousal, but to your overwhelming horror, you can't seem to control yourself. You feel yourself getting wet, folds quickly becoming slick as you’re forced to grind on him. Your body, already warm from all the cocktails and shots, grows even hotter as you squirm on his lap.

In a desperate move to regain some control, you fully get up to reach for another drink. But then you feel a pair of hands on your waist, and Suo pulls you back onto his leg—this time forcing you to straddle it. You can't help the whimper that leaves you as your dripping cunt is spread and pressed against him, your clit throbbing against his thigh.

You pray that he doesn't notice the noise, so of course he does.

“Hm? Is something wrong?” Suo’s hand drifts over your waist and down to your thigh, where it ghosts over your bare skin. He leans in, and his voice is silky as he speaks into your ear: “You're moving around a lot. Do you need to get up?”

He’s giving you an out. It's quite considerate of him, as staying like this would not be a good decision. But for better or worse, you have a tendency to make bad ones.

“...no, I'm fine.”

“Good,” he says. “Let me know if you’re uncomfortable at all. I'm happy to move if you'd like.”

As if demonstrating, Suo shifts the leg you're sitting on, directly rubbing it against your core. You try not to shudder, feeling yourself get even wetter, clenching around nothing.

Trying to ignore how empty you are, you grasp for other topics of conversation, something to distract you. A little scrambled from the alcohol and catastrophically aroused, you of course land on the one that's been making your sex drive unmanageable.

“Remember a month ago,” you say, “how you talked about choosing who gets to touch me?”

“Yes.” His palm is warm against your thigh. He isn't moving it, so there's plausible deniability, but the amused tone of his voice suggests that he knows what he's doing. “Does that bother you?”

Of course it should bother you. It's a level of control that's appalling even to your anxiously-attached ass. But it’s also making you wetter right now. You try not to cry—from misery or sexual frustration, you're not sure.

“Well, yeah. Come on, Suo—even you should know that's really weird of you.”

“I do,” he says, smiling like he isn't admitting to deranged behaviour. “But how else am I supposed to know you're safe? Or even aside from being safe—if your needs are being met.” His hand runs up and down your thigh before settling at the hem of your dress. “I wouldn't want you to go unsatisfied. Who knows what kind of people you'd seek out if that happened.”

You actively stop yourself from putting your face in your hands. The gall of him saying this after forcing you into extended celibacy is beyond words, especially as you're being forced to rub up on him, effectively ruining every attempt you've made not to think about him sexually for the past several years. There are many materially consequential reasons for your decision to not fuck Suo—you should not be soaked through your panties, your thighs sticky with need, as you sit on his lap.

“That's,” you say lamely, “not very normal of you.” Trying for a less sensual conversation, you go for the reliable topic Sakura’s romance radar: “Also, if satisfaction was your concern, why did you choose Sakura? I love that guy a lot, but he has literally no experience. And I think he'd blue-screen trying to keep a friend with benefits. You know he can't handle a fuckbuddy.”

You are not trying to be mean. What Sakura objectively needs for his first time is someone sweet and emotionally competent and, most importantly, not an absolute freak like you. This is a failure of your character, not his.

You can hear Suo’s smile in his reply: “I don't think you're giving him enough credit.”

“He has the social skills of a feral cat.”

Suo genuinely laughs. “Sure, when he first came to Makochi. But he's much better now. Plus, you have no room to talk. I mean”—his breath sweeps over your ear—“you used to be pretty wild yourself. I've just domesticated you is all… though you've been misbehaving lately.”

His words do something horrible to you. Trying to distract yourself from the mounting sexual tension, you turn to him to give him a biting retort, but you're abruptly stopped by the look in his eye. Distinctly hungry and unrepentant in its desire, his gaze roams openly and shamelessly along the curves of your body.

You feel like you're being eaten alive.

Plenty of customers have looked at you in such a way when you wear this outfit, but none have had this effect on you—which is to say, making you clench immediately.

You try not to cry. You actually will cum on the spot at this rate, and you don't think you could be subtle about it. You're barely keeping it together right now, with how your pussy keeps fluttering and dripping. Coupled with the way that the alcohol is melting the edges of your self-control, you're shocked you haven't at least moaned yet.

In a last ditch effort to save your friendship, as well as your rental (house arrest) situation, you slap a hand over his mouth.

“Stop that.”

Suo laughs. He grabs your wrist, lifts your palm away. “Why?”

Why? Because if you keep talking like that, I'll bend over and start begging you to fuck me! you think. But even in your inebriated, horny state, it feels like a poor idea to admit this aloud. You end up saying, “Hostesses aren't paid to flirt like this. Strictly speaking, we’re paid to be conversational partners.” You frown at him. “You're breaking a lot of club rules right now.”

This reprimand backfires on you, as you are suddenly filled with intrusive thoughts of breaking every single rule in this establishment with Suo, including the ones preventing you from climbing on top of him and riding him raw. You squirm at the thought, wishing you could close your legs rather than making a mess of your underwear (now a lost cause), but Suo’s grip stays firm on your waist.

He, himself, is unbothered by your scolding. “Okay,” he says simply. “Then I won't speak to you as a hostess. I want to speak to you, seriously, as a friend.”

His smile is so disarming, it makes you nervous. But he sounds earnest enough for you to be curious, and anyway, you're desperate for something to distract you from your wet cunt.

“Alright,” you acquiesce, “What do you have to say, as a friend?”

“I just have one question.”

“Sure. Shoot.”

His hand comes to rest in your thigh again. He leans in, breath so hot against your ear that your heart jumps.

“I can accept that you wanted to see customers just to satisfy your urges. But tell me why you didn't come to me first.”

You freeze up. Look at him, wide-eyed.

“Wh-what?”

Suo just smiles. Looks so fucking innocent you wonder if you misheard, but his voice is sharp when he replies: “Let me put it another way. Why have we never slept together?”

For some reason, you’ve never thought that he'd ask you this question point blank, even though you've asked it to yourself many times. It takes you several moments to piece together a response, during which Suo’s expression turns distinctly wicked. A sign that he smells blood.

“Why would you think we would have?” you ask carefully.

“Because we’ve both clearly thought about it. You especially.”

You try to keep a straight face. “No I haven't. I don't know what you're talking about.” You raise a brow. “How would you even know?”

“Because,” he says, hand inching up your thigh, “you’re so wet that I can feel it.”

You're mortified.

Shame floods your body, first because of the accusation, and then because you know it's true. You were tipsy enough not to think about this, but now—sobering up from sheer panic— you're acutely aware of how you've soaked through the fabric beneath you. Something that Suo had certainly known, and chose to encourage.

What a horrible man.

When you don't reply, he tilts his head. “Don't tell me you haven't noticed. Do you want me to show you?”

His hand is moving so slowly, you know he's giving you another out. You could easily get off his lap. You could even slap him and call him a sleazy drunk and grouse at him to go home. You could forgive him in the morning for coming onto you and say he'd obviously made an inebriated mistake, as opposed to a very calculated decision. Your friendship would stay mostly intact. His grip on you might tighten, but that would be fine. You would still get to stay with him.

And that's all you've ever wanted. Just to stay with him.

But you're so wet, so empty, so aching. You want to be touched. You want to be touched by Suo, and only by Suo. You want to be fucked by him, to be owned by him, to be ruined by him. You’ve wanted it so badly and so long that you can't even remember when it started—only that you want it to end.

So instead of moving away, you sit there and endure the humiliation of getting your cunt inspected by him.

Suo hums as he opens your legs. You suppress a whimper as a finger moves along your folds, at the noise it makes as it runs through your slick. “Look, you’re so wet,” he murmurs into your ear. He finds your clit—swollen, neglected, and you whimper as he starts to draw slow, lazy circles around it. “Poor thing.”

“It’s only because you had me grinding on you the whole night,” you say through gritted teeth. “It doesn't—ngh—doesn’t mean I’ve been wanting to fuck you.”

You sound pissed enough that you'd convince anyone else, but you know, even without seeing his face, that Suo can tell you're bullshitting.

“You’re not a good liar,” he remarks. A fine teacher even when humiliating people, Suo can't help but add, “If you have to tell a lie, at least come up with a believable one.”

“What makes it unbelievable?” you reply, words clipped off by a sharp inhale as he starts rubbing your pussy.

“Well,” he starts nonchalantly, as if he isn't toying with your cunt, “after you were targeted in that succession conflict, I put hidden cameras in the area, and also in our suite.”

Your eyes go wide. Even in your aroused state, the implications are making you panic. “You—you what?”

“It was for security purposes,” he dismisses casually, as if he's not admitting to a serious invasion of privacy. “Only near the front door and the common areas. I just wanted to catch intruders and any suspicious behaviour from my men. But imagine my surprise”—you feel his fingers start to press into your cunt—“when I instead caught you fucking yourself on the couch and moaning my name.”

You’re mortified. Humiliated. Mind racing with every instance you were horny and stupid enough to touch yourself in a common space. You think about yelling at him about the cameras, but then you feel two fingers sinking into you, and now you aren't thinking about much at all.

Your mind goes blank as you're stretched open by him. Your cunt is so wet, so empty, but the feeling still makes you whine. Your brow furrows, and you give him a pleading look. Slowly, please.

“Don't worry,” he says in a soothing tone, “I know you can handle this. I've seen you take much bigger. Though”—he shifts, pulls you so you're in between his legs, and now you can feel the length of him against you, hard and aching and huge, what the fuck—“maybe not big enough.”

You tighten around his fingers as he grinds against you. You want him inside you so badly, it hurts. Suo laughs when he feels your desperation, and he sounds so amused that you can't help but feel ashamed. But even more than shame, you feel aroused. You take the rest of his fingers easily, down to the knuckle.

“What the fuck, Suo,” you eventually manage through your panting, though not with much bite. “You weren't—ahh—meant to see any of that.”

“Sorry,” he says, sounding deeply unapologetic. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn't watch much, and I deleted all of it. I didn't need to see that to know you have feelings for me.”

You tense. “What feelings?” you ask, and Suo stops. He pulls his fingers out of you—you breathe sharply at the loss—and manhandles you until you're straddling his lap. Forces you to look at him, into his one eye. It's knife-sharp, brutal, but familiar. You don't struggle, nor do you feel uneasy.

But you do feel like prey.

“Do you remember,” he begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?”

Fuck.

“No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs.

“Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.”

He smiles at you. Actually looks kind and even sounds earnest. What a fucking sociopath. You allow him to slide your underwear down your legs, kicking them off. Now your pussy is completely bare to him, and you can hear the way his breath stops as he touches it again. Three of his fingers push in this time, and you pant openly at the stretch, leaning against him as your body trembles from the stretch. He flexes his fingers experimentally, watching your reactions—your whimpers, your sighs, the way your eyelashes flutter when he brushes that one spot inside you.

“I’ve always had feelings for you,” he starts, using that nonchalant, delicate tone—the specific one that suggests danger, “and I know you’re too smart to have missed that. I’d be fine with it if you didn't return them, but you do.”

“I don't,” you protest, and then his fingers curl and press into your g-spot. You're cut off immediately, gasping at the sudden wave of heat in your belly.

A hand comes up to your chin. He forces you to look at him. “I said I wanted to have an honest conversation, remember.”

“I–I am being honest, I—” Your voice breaks as he starts pumping his fingers. It's slow, gentle, but precise. Tension builds in you at an alarming rate, your thighs getting as slick and messy as his hand. You bury your face into the crook of his shoulder, breathe in his cologne and gasp into his skin, and your mind goes hazy from the euphoria of his touch. Sure, you've hugged Suo before, been held by him before, and god knows you've been touched like this by a ton of other people before—but it feels different now. It feels different when it's Suo who's touching you, different when you’re this close to him while he's drawing all this pleasure out of you. When one hand feels so good inside you and the other one is holding you so intimately.

“Suo,” you whimper, overwhelmed by hot tension in your belly, “I-I’m close, I’m close, oh fuck—

He stops.

Before you can comprehend what's happening, he’s withdrawing his fingers, and all the heat in you is melting away. Your orgasm lost, you come down from your high—nerves frayed, emotions taut.

“Suo,” you say, “what the fuck?”

He gives you a smile. It almost looks nice. “I'm not letting you cum until you tell me the truth.”

You’re going to cry.

You're so wet, so empty, so desperate, and now you feel oddly afraid. You don't like the way he's staring you down. You don't like this line of questioning, this bullshit of engaging with other people's feelings. You’ve never liked it. But you need—need—him to fuck you. You need his fingers inside you and you need to cry into his neck while you finish.

You say, very quietly, “Please, Suo.”

“Please, what?”

It's funny. You've performed begging and crying and submission for countless clients, sometimes during annoyingly rough sessions. You've done it for years. But nothing has ever felt so humiliating as this moment, when you ask your best friend, in the smallest voice possible, “Please touch me.”

“No. Not until you start being honest with me.”

Suo's mouth curls at the devastated look you give him. You hardly even notice that he's adjusting you, having you straddle his thigh again—this time, facing him. You don't register it until your cunt is pressed into the wet spot you left earlier and he's saying, “You can move if you'd like. But I'm not touching you.”

“You’re fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, but your pussy is throbbing and you're desperate for release. So you finally do what you were desperately trying to stop yourself from doing the whole night—you start grinding on him. Like a fucking animal in heat. It's embarrassing, especially because his leg feels so good against you. The friction on your pussy makes you pant, your eyes squeezing shut as your clit finally gets some pressure. It makes up for the way he’s looking at you, which is sly, handsome, and rage-inducing all at once.

“You really do need to be touched,” he remarks softly. “You said your customers satisfied you. Was that true? Did they properly fuck you?”

“N-no,” you gasp. Your mind feels so cottony now that you're getting some relief. You can barely think, and definitely not enough to lie. “It was—it was—fuck, I never came.”

He hums, satisfied. “There—see? Telling the truth isn't so hard. You can do it again.”

He sounds so condescending. You would ordinarily hate it, but for some reason, it's going straight to your pussy right now, making you drip so much you know you've ruined his pants. You’re getting close, too, just by rubbing yourself on his leg. It doesn't feel quite as good as when his fingers were in you, but it’s something. And it’s making it hard to focus on what he's saying.

“It’s fine if you can't be honest about your feelings,” Suo continues. “Let's assume you're telling the truth, and all you want to do is fuck me. Why haven't you?”

You try to answer him, but you can't. You're too focused on the roll of your hips against his leg. There's too much tension, too much heat. You melt against him again, breathing heavily into his shoulder as you tighten around nothing. His hands come to your waist, as if grounding you, and somehow this makes everything feel even better. You start panting, babbling, I'm close, I'm getting close, Suo, Suo—

His grip tightens, and he stops you in place. You cry in frustration—no tears, but the noise you make is broken.

“Answer my question,” he says. You feel a hand glide along your bare skin, stopping at your inner thigh. “Answer me and I'll touch you.”

“Okay,” you say, as desperate as you are distressed. “Okay, I'll do anything. Anything.”

“Good.” He sounds so pleased.

You put your arms around his neck, for no reason other than you want to. Lifting your hips, you part your legs for him, and you feel so relieved at just the touch of his hand that you sigh—even though all he's doing is running a finger along your slick folds.

You shudder as his fingers play with your sex. Lean your head on his shoulder as he starts to move. You’re so desperate that you start grinding against his hand, whining for him.

“Well, then,” he murmurs. “Tell me why you didn't come to me. This is all you wanted, isn't it?” He rolls your clit between two fingers, making you squirm. “Just to get off, right? I could have done that. You'd have enjoyed it more.”

“It”—your eyelids flutter shut—“it would have been too complicated. Y-you’re my boss, and I pay rent to y-you, and we’ve been friends for so long, I didn't want to make it weird—”

Suo delivers a sharp slap to your pussy.

The contact is so sudden that you yelp. It only stings a little, but it makes your clit ache. The noise it makes is so wet, so filthy, telling of your desperation. And to your shame—even though you have never once in your life enjoyed being handled roughly by your customers—your cunt starts leaking in response.

You whimper, about to burst from frustration. You need to be touched so bad. You need to be touched by him so bad, and you need to cum on his cock or else you'll lose your fucking mind.

“Suo,” you complain, or beg, and you don't even realise that you're tearing up until he swipes his thumb under your eye.

“Try again,” he says gently, but not kindly. “The truth this time, and then I'll make you cum. Why didn't you come to me first? These past few months, or any other time?”

You don't answer him. “Suo, please—” And he moves back so that you're no longer leaning against him. Your lip trembles at the loss of the warmth, which somehow feels worse than the loss of your orgasm. An actual tear rolls down your cheek, and he doesn't wipe this one away.

“Answer me,” he says firmly. Instead of replying, you try to reach for him—wanting to be pressed against his body again, wanting him to draw pleasure out of yours again—but he stills you with his hands.

You feel devastated.

Out of horny, emotional desperation, and an all-consuming need to be fucked, you admit, “I was just scared!”

This is the worst mistake you've ever made.

The minute the words dislodge from your throat, you feel yourself choke up. You don't know why. All you know is that you suddenly can't hold back your tears from your sexual frustration, which for some reason is starting to feel distinctly like a non-sexual kind of angst, which is also strangely painful for your chest.

Because now that you've said it out loud, you can't ignore it.

You want to hide. You want to crawl out of his lap and run out of the establishment. Surely, the mamasan will forgive you for leaving a shift with such a frightening and horrible man, who is currently trying to extort your feelings out of you. But Suo’s grip is solid and unforgiving on you, and all you can do is squirm.

“Scared of what?” Suo asks. His voice has gone soft. Actually soft—not in a way that suggests danger, but a way that suggests you're loved. It makes you tremble.

His arms circle you, and one rubs at your back. It makes you relax very slightly. Or at the very least, it makes you stop wanting to bolt.

“What were you scared of?” he prompts again.

A feeling of defeat washes over you. Suo will figure you out sooner or later. He always does. So you tell him, very quietly, “I was scared that—that you'd leave me.”

You realise that you just stuttered. You stuttered because you're crying. You're actually, genuinely crying. Not from sexual frustration, but because you're just frustrated in general. And miserable. You've been chronically miserable for most of your life, and that misery has had nowhere to go until now.

You press your face into Suo’s shoulder, and he lets you. You breathe deeply in an attempt to stop crying, his cologne washing over you. It's nice, but what feels most comforting is just the scent of him. You're used to it from the days before he'd ever thought about using a fragrance, let alone a fragrance that would bankrupt the average person. It's calming, even when overlayed with ambergris and vanilla. Familiar.

Your breathing evens out a little—but only a little.

“Why would I leave you?” His voice is so kind, patient. More tears bead on your lashes.

“Because you might not want me anymore.” You sound so fragile. Shit, you are fragile. You can't stop the splintering feeling in you, the same one that ate at you two months ago when you thought he was going to leave you. “You could get tired of me or resent me or get bored with me. You could—you could want to throw me away, for no reason. Or—” You breathe in sharply, clinging to him harder.

“Or?”

“Or you could die—you joined the yakuza, so you could die. Why did you do that?” An actual sob leaves you. His shirt is getting wet. You ruined so many of his silk changshan like this in the past, when your boyfriend cheated on you and when your parents kicked you out and when you slept with your fifth customer.

And when your master died.

“I'm still so fucking mad at you for it,” you bite out around your tears. “If you got fucking killed—oh my god, I can't even think about it. I can't—I couldn't take it if—if I kissed you, and we had sex, and then I didn't have you anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the only thing I have.” You squeeze your eyes shut, a terrible realisation hitting you. “And…”

“And?”

“And,” you say, voice breaking, “I think because I love you?”

You know it as soon as you voice it. You do love him. Not just platonically, but in the way where you want to hold his hand and kiss him and marry him. In the way a miserable nineteen year old girl is so in love with her miserable best friend that she refuses to leave him despite how terrifying he’s becoming. You loved him in this way before you realised you wanted to have sex with him, and even after that, you loved him so much that it didn't matter that he wasn't having sex with you.

You love him so much it disgusts you.

You want to hide, but Suo forces you to look at him. He brushes away your tears, cups your face. The Pavlovian response takes over: your heart rate slows, and you calm down.

“There,” he says gently. “That wasn't so bad, was it?”

He’s wrong. You bet he knows he's wrong. That was objectively one of the worst experiences of your life. You feel wrung out, tenderised. You never thought you'd say any of that. You're not sure you knew most of that.

But in Suo’s arms, plied open with his words and his hands, you actually find yourself shaking your head. You lean into the touch of his palm.

“I love you,” he continues, his tone so authoritative and calm that it leaves no room for doubt, “probably to the point that it should scare you. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” you say quietly.

“And we won't be separated. I won't allow anything to take you away from me. Do you understand that too?”

You make a noise, halfway between a relieved sigh and another sob. This declaration should not be a surprise from a man who’s effectively locked you up in his house. Still—your heart feels so light when you hear someone say, for the first time in your life, that they’ll stay with you no matter what. It's like Suo has just unearthed a weight that you didn't know you'd been carrying.

“I’ll try,” you reply, voice small.

“Good.” He strokes your cheek. “Do you want to keep going?”

It’s absurd. You just cried and confessed something terrifying. With anyone else, this would be an experience so horrifying that you'd leave right now and never come back. Your sexual desire should not just be gone, but permanently erased. At the very least, you shouldn't feel the slightest bit horny.

But somehow, being gutted by Suo hasn't left you feeling bad. It's left you feeling lighter. Kind of like you've been purged. You feel exhausted, but in a malleable way. Dazed and relieved to be in his lap. Your thighs are still embarrassingly sticky, heart still embarrassingly wobbly, and you just heard him say that he loves you.

Now you want to hear him say it while he's cumming inside you.

“Yeah,” you admit immediately, pathetically. You sniffle.

“You're sure?” Another stroke. “I want to hear you say it clearly. What do you want to do?”

Your dignity is gone. “I want you to fuck me.”

He smiles. A fond hum leaves him. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you feel a flutter in your belly. “I'll take care of you now.”

He kisses you this time, before he touches you. On the neck, on your jaw. You bare your nape to him, shivering at the feeling of his lips on your jugular, at his nipping teeth on your skin. You realise he's leaving marks, and with each one, you shudder. It feels so intimate. You're on a rooftop bar, in a skanky hostessing dress, crying and strung out—but this is the closest thing you've ever gotten to one of your fantasies about him. Not the nasty ones that you think about when you're home by yourself, but the ones you think of when you're in bed with various salarymen. The ones where you get to lie with him in bed and press your lips to his.

“Suo,” you start.

“Hayato,” he corrects you. “You're my fiancée now, remember? We should be on a first name basis.”

Your stomach flips. “Hayato,” you try again, breathless. “Please.”

He takes a moment to reply, busy sucking another mark into your skin. “Please, what?”

You hesitate. Suo pulls back, looking at you. You whine, feeling shy all of a sudden. You flirt for a living and yet you feel embarrassed about your request. It's humiliating.

“Please, what?” he repeats. His mouth is curled in a smile, and you can't tell whether it's endeared or entertained. “Please let you cum? Please fuck you?”

“Please kiss me,” you say, in a small voice.

Suo pauses.

“What?”

“Please kiss me,” you beg. Close to tears again, for some reason you don't know. You think it surprises him as much as it does you.

It takes him a moment to recover, but when he does, he gives you a look that’s fucking ravenous.

His thumbs away the wetness from your eyes. “You're so cute sometimes. Did you know that?”

You flush. Plenty of customers have called you cute, but none have had you feeling so indignant nor shy.

“I’m not,” you reply, “and stop that.”

“But it's true. And I want you to know it.”

Suo presses his mouth to yours before you can respond. You're so eager for him that you part your lips immediately. Your instinct is to make your first kiss with him messy and desperate, but he’s in full control, and he’s taking his time. His tongue is careful and precise. Full of intention. His lips are slow, languid, and lazy, like he's savouring the taste of you. A hand plays with the strap of your dress. You feel him slide it off your shoulder—the other one quickly follows—but you’re so absorbed in his kiss, you hardly pay attention.

You're vaguely aware of the breeze against your bare chest. One of his hands moving up, feeling out your curves. He hums into your mouth when his fingers ghost over your nipples, and they harden under his touch.

“Suo,” you whine as he teases them, and he pinches one of them, watching as you squirm.

“Hayato,” he corrects you promptly, and you give him a worn, teary look.

“Hayato.”

“Yes?”

“I need more,” you say quietly.

He smiles, clearly enjoying your desperation. “Be patient,” he teases you. “I’m getting there.”

He kisses a line along your jaw, down your neck. Traces your collarbone with the path of his mouth, works his way down to your breasts. At the same time you feel the heat of his tongue on your nipple, his hand reaches between your legs. You're so wet already that he doesn't need to work you open again—just sinks his fingers inside you until you're sighing for him.

You discover that when he's not antagonising you, Suo is frighteningly efficient with pleasuring you. He learns quickly how you like your tits played with, and how to fuck you so well with his fingers until you're gushing around them and keening. He said he'd take care of you, but you think he's mostly forcing all this pleasure from your body for his own enjoyment. There's no other explanation for how he keeps bringing you to the edge and pulling you back, swallowing each of your whines and complaints with his mouth. The only time he isn't kissing you is when you're begging—and you don't miss the way his breathing deepens every time you do.

But no matter how much you beg, he isn’t letting you cum.

“Look at the mess you're making,” he murmurs as he plays with your cunt. You're sitting between his legs again, your back against his chest. You can feel the length of his cock against your ass, and you hear how his breath hitches every time you squirm against it. Except for that one tell, he sounds completely unaffected by what he's doing—forced you to open your legs wide for him, spread your glistening folds to tease you. The leather beneath your ass is wet, ruined by your need.

“Hayato,” you whine.

“Just a little longer,” he promises, “and then I'll let you cum.”

Your mind is so fogged with pleasure at this point that you can't focus on anything other than Suo’s touch. You’ve actually forgotten where you are—not a truly private space, but part of a club. The girls would normally only come up if you put in an order, but you haven't for a while now.

Long enough for someone to check on you without warning.

You tense as soon as you hear the door open. You recognize the server—she knows you well, by face, stage name, and real name. Your eyes go wide as she calls for you. You try to sit up, close your legs, but Suo grabs one of your thighs and forces it open.

“Suo, wait—”

You whimper, incapable of words when his fingers push into you again. He starts fucking you with them, and in earnest this time—curling his fingers until they're pushing into your g-spot, doing it over and over and over. Your eyes roll back and you stop struggling, and Suo takes the opportunity to touch you with his other hand too, playing with your clit. A strangled moan leaves you as the heat in your gut ratchets up. Pleasure swells in your belly; you feel like you're going to burst.

“Suo,” you cry, tears pricking your eyes, “wait, wait, my coworker—wait, I think—I think I'm gonna—”

“Go ahead,” he says into your ear, voice silky, and he pushes against your sweet spot in a way that gives you no choice but to obey him.

You cum so hard that you squirt all over the seat. Your whole body is wracked with intense pleasure—hips bucking violently, legs twitching, crying so loudly and shamelessly that your coworker naturally hears. She catches you spread wide open in Suo’s lap, his fingers deep in your messy, swollen cunt as you drench them.

Her tray clatters to the floor.

Fighting the mindless haze that your body is in, you glance at the other girl, whose hand is over her mouth. She looks appalled. She’s going to yell at you. But then you then watch, in real time, as her eyes travel to your customer’s face and she realises who he is. If she was red when she saw the two of you, she's now a pale white.

“Did you come to check on us?” Suo asks. He sounds amused. She flinches at his voice, and actually takes a step backward. “We’re fine for now. We’ll order something in a bit, and call you up here as usual.”

“O-okay,” she says, voice high and tense. “I—I’ll leave you two, then. Please—please enjoy yourself, sir. We'll be available in case you require any other services.” And she walks away briskly, almost in a run. She doesn't even bother to stop the expressly forbidden act that you're engaged in.

Once she’s gone, Suo allows you some dignity. He pulls his fingers out of you, lets you catch your breath.

“Oops,” he says. “It’s too bad they caught us. I suppose they won't want to keep you on as an employee, since you broke such an important rule.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. Your emotional and sexual pliability quickly dissipates, replaced by disbelief.

“You—you did that on purpose,” you say between pants, too fucked out to be truly angry, but still appalled.

Suo raises a brow, gives you an innocent look. “Did I? I was just making you cum, like you've been begging all night. It was just unfortunate timing.” He then smiles, which makes him look incredibly kind despite the apparent sadism of his person. “But it's fine. They're going to fire you for this, but you know my club will always take you back.”

You close your eyes and groan. “You’re horrible.”

“I am, aren't I?” Suo puts his arms around you, kisses you on the shoulder, his voice getting low. “But this is a better arrangement, don't you think? You won't need to see customers this way. Every time you need relief, you can come upstairs and I'll give you my cock instead.” He grinds against you, letting you feel how hard he is, and you whimper. He laughs, probably entertained at how desperate you sound. “Or maybe I'll just make you take it whenever I feel like it. I think at the end of every shift makes sense, doesn't it? Since that's how often you've been touching yourself on the couch.”

“S-suo.”

“It’s Hayato now, remember. What is it, dear?”

He sounds so smug, mocking you. You should be furious. But in your fucked out state, all you can focus on is the idea of being forced to take Suo's cock every night. Despite already being ruined, your pussy starts throbbing again. You squirm and press your thighs together, trying to get it to stop—you’re so fucking tired—and you bleakly realise that you can't control your body’s reactions around him. You're getting wet again. It makes you want to cry.

“Hayato,” you whimper, on the verge of tears.

“Ah, you addressed me properly. Good.” He’s so satisfied. “What is it?”

“I…”

“You?”

“I”—your voice is so small and embarrassed, you can hardly believe it—“I want you to fuck me.”

He feigns shock, as if he wasn't actively provoking this. “Really? But you just came.” A hand prods between your legs. You obediently spread them for him, and he checks your pussy with two of his fingers. You moan a little at the intrusion, but there's no resistance at all.

Your cunt, still dripping, tightens around him, and he laughs softly.

“You really do need a cock in you. Who knew you had such a needy pussy.” He curls his fingers. Probably feeling the way it makes you gush, delighting in the gasp it draws out of you. “No wonder you have to use that toy every day.”

You're about to die of embarrassment. “Hayato. Please just fuck me.”

Suo turns you so that you can look at him. He’s wearing a kind, benevolent face when he says, “No.”

“...what?”

“I'm not going to give you my cock.” He hums, contemplative. “Not for a while, I think.”

“B-but,” you say, genuinely upset, “but you were just talking about doing that at work.”

“Sure—after we get married. It's only proper, don’t you think?”

“What?” Your eyes are wide in disbelief. “You—you just made me cum with your fingers. In a public space.”

“Yes. But that's different from letting you have my cock. It wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to do that before we’re wedded.” He can't keep the amusement out of his voice as he bullies you. “I'm sure you can wait until the summer, right? Since that's the season you chose for us. August, I think you told Nirei.”

“Hayato—”

“Actually,” he muses, easily sliding a third finger into you, making your voice clip off in a whimper, “I think you shouldn’t be allowed to have anything in you until then. Except for my fingers and tongue, of course. But no toys, and no other men either. That definitely wouldn't be proper.”

“I'm going to,” you say spitefully—and tearfully. “If you don't fuck me right now, I will sleep with other people.”

“I don't think you want to find out the consequences if you do.”

“How would you even—ngh—know?”

“Good question.” He starts pumping his fingers, and to your horror, your cunt needily swallows them with each motion, your body as desperate as he's been saying. “I guess I'll need to check your pussy every night. See if it's been stretched out by someone else’s cock. Maybe upstairs in the lounge at the end of each night, so I'll know that you haven't fucked a customer during a shift. Clearly, it's not impossible that you would.”

You try not to sob. Not only are his words utterly humiliating, they're making you wetter. After fucking so many people in so many ways, you didn't know it was possible for you to feel this much shame during sex—but then again, shaming people is one of Suo’s specialties.

You give him the teariest look possible, because by now you've figured out that he likes seeing you cry. Sadistic motherfucker. You're happy to use it to your advantage though.

He gets that hungry look in his eye again. “Please, Hayato,” you beg, voice trembling with need, “I want more. I thought I was your beautiful wife already.” You grind your ass against his cock, and he inhales sharply. “Don't you wanna cum in your wife’s pussy?”

Suo stops, deeply affected—just as you guessed he'd be. After making you his fake wife in both his criminal life and his civilian one, it's painfully obvious that the man is obsessed with marrying you. You'd make fun of him if you weren't so horny. Or humbled.

He only allows himself speechlessness for a second. He hums soon after, delicately wiping the tears out of your eyes. “You've been good enough that I guess I can reward you. I won't fuck you, but”—he shifts away, and you can hear his pants unzipping—“I’m sure you'll enjoy yourself anyway.”

Suo wasn't lying earlier. His cock is bigger than any toy you've ever used. It's pretty, too. Curved and long and flushed at the head. Glistening with prespend, which has pearled up at the tip. You think you might be salivating. For a minute, you contemplate asking if you can feel it in your throat, but then Suo’s lying down and moving you on top of him. When his cock nudges at your folds, you can’t help your excitement. You squirm, trying to sink onto his length.

His grip tightens on your waist, stopping you.

You’re about to whine at him about this, but he doesn't give you the chance. “If you try to ride me,” he says, in a voice so cold that you know he's not joking, “I'm not touching you until we’re married, and I'm not letting you touch yourself either.”

“...”

With anyone else you'd call bullshit, but you know that Suo is both crazy and petty enough to actually achieve this.

“Okay.” You sound and feel mollified. “I'll behave.”

He smiles. “Good,” he says cheerfully. “Just stay like that, then. I’ll take care of you.”

You listen to him, mostly because you're incredibly excited about getting pussy inspections and you'll be devastated if it doesn't happen. And you don't expect it to be a big deal, anyway. While your sex drive has been a constant source of grief for you throughout your life, you don't really have problems controlling any specific impulses in bed when you truly need to. You’re used to giving your customers whatever they want and, if you're lucky, getting off from it. You figure this will be the same.

You find out very quickly that it isn't.

You need to stay still. You can’t sink down on him. Two easy orders that are extraordinarily difficult when Suo is the one beneath you. You have to actively stop your hips from moving when you feel the silky head of his cock press into your folds, which are still dripping with your slick. Suo’s breath hitches when he runs the tip along your opening, drawing wet noises every time his cock head catches on your needy hole, smearing his precum all over it. All you want is to push back on him and let your pussy swallow his cock. You’re aching for it, and you know he is too. If you sank down on him now, he'd lose control and fuck you raw until he was cumming inside you. And then he'd probably keep going after that, not letting you move until you were stuffed full and dripping with his spend. Both of you know it.

But you don't do that. You're good for him. You sigh, just trying to enjoy the feeling of his length rubbing against you. How he's twitching and throbbing against you, how he wants as equally much to be inside you—but pulls back every time. Your mind goes a little fuzzy with the drawn out, low hum of pleasure, and you close your eyes.

Then he starts pushing into you.

“H-Hayato?” You whimper at the intrusion, at being made to take something so thick without warning. “I thought you weren't gonna—”

“I'm not,” he says. His breathing is heavier, his words strained, but his voice is still commanding when he says, “Don’t move.”

Suo doesn't give you the whole thing, just the tip. It is much harder to control yourself like this—when you can feel yourself getting stretched by the head of his cock, already so fat and heavy, but you don't get filled up by it. It makes you aware of how empty you are, and how wet you're getting. You bury your face into his neck and make a noise that's both tearful and pathetic.

It's not acting when you whine, in a watery, miserable way, “Please, Hayato. I need your cum in me.”

It's probably the crying that gets him. He inhales sharply, thrusting maybe a little deeper than intended. You groan at the extra inch of cock, eyes rolling back, and can't help the way your pussy tightens and drips, trying to suck him in.

“Fuck,” he says, and then he pulls out.

He lays you flat on your back. Before you can get so much as a word out, he's between your legs and pressing his cock against your entrance. For possibly the happiest moment of your life, you think Suo is going to fuck you—but instead he starts pushing the slick head of his cock right against your neglected clit.

You aren't going to complain.

You whimper as he starts rubbing against your sex, leaving his prespend all over your swollen bud. It makes you squirm, grinding yourself against it, and you press your legs together to get some more pressure for the both of you. Soon his cock is sliding between your thighs, getting them all sticky with his prespend. You can feel the length of him hot and slick against your folds, heavy and throbbing.

You've never cum like this before. It was never enough stimulation when your customers made you do this, which nearly all of them have. But the pressure on your clit and on your folds is shockingly intense as the two of you move, enough to make you whimper as a familiar tension builds. It's not as overwhelming as when his fingers were inside you, but it's enough for you to start panting at the tension in your belly. You can hear Suo’s breath picking up as you start to whine, and he watches you, almost predatorial, as another orgasm crashes over you. You moan his name as you cum, squeezing a few more tears out of your eyes.

He stares at your flustered, wet face as he pushes the head of his cock against your entrance again, fisting himself as it flutters and drips in the aftershock of your orgasm. Suo’s been hard for so long, for the whole time he's teased and bullied you—you aren't surprised at how close he already is. Especially not when you start talking about how much you need his cum in you, how empty your pussy feels without it, how badly you want your husband to fill you up. All with your mascara smeared and your lip trembling, a sight that makes him throb.

Suo groans as he finally cums. You can feel his cock twitching, warmth spurting out onto your folds, and then into your pussy as he thrusts shallowly into you. You pull him down needily as he fills you, and he indulges you with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

When he pulls out, you can feel his cum drip out of you, all the way down to the couch. You make a happy noise at the mess he's made of your hole, giving him a lovestruck, dreamy expression.

“You should do that every night after you're done checking my pussy,” you sigh.

Suo’s mouth curls, and breathes out a kind of laugh. He holds your face, and one of his tassels brush against the shell of your ear as he presses his forehead to yours. “I’ll do it if you're good for me.”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour until our wedding night,” you promise, voice affectionate.

Suo gives you a fond look. His expression is so sentimental. You think he’s going to say something sweet.

“Alright,” he replies. “Then be good for me and keep the rest of that inside you, okay? Let’s not make a mess of these floors. I don't want to get blacklisted from this club.”

You open and close your mouth, completely speechless.

“You're fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, and he laughs and kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you. He doesn't stop until you're placated and horny again.

Suo takes his sweet time pushing his cum into you as deeply as possible, saying that it's to make sure you don't lose any of it, but really so he can draw another orgasm out of you. Knowing that the mamasan might take pity on you and think that you were coerced into degrading sexual acts by a terrifying yakuza client, he makes sure to order a drink beforehand, calling up a server. (I don't want to be a bad patron, he hums as he looks at the tablet, and I said I'd get you to the number 1 ranking, right?) It subsequently looks, sounds, and is completely consensual when you're found pulling at Suo’s hair, keening as he fingers his cum into you while sucking on your clit.

This leaves you with no hope of continued employment on all of Keisei Street.

To add insult to injury, you do make a mess of the floors, despite Suo’s conscientious efforts to avoid this—though it's not as bad as the one you left on the couch. You also can't find your thong anywhere, which you guess is something else that the mamasan won’t appreciate when she finds it. Still, for the rest of the night, everyone shows Suo nothing but the utmost respect and highest quality customer service. They even ask how he found your company and if he has any feedback for you. He praises your conversational skills, karaoke abilities, and how capable you were in catering to his many needs. He also lets them know that you'll be resigning.

Hanzo and Shuuhei are waiting to pick you up, bringing the Rolls Royce with the privacy suite. This time, Suo doesn't use it to interrogate you; he instead uses it to kiss you and tease you and discuss wedding plans. If it'll be indoors or outdoors. If you'll have a big reception or a small one. If it'll be a traditional wedding, or if you’ll want a Chinese one like the one your master would have maybe liked to see. You settle on having a Shinto ceremony and a Chinese-style reception. Having been raised Chinese, whenever Suo imagined marrying during his teenage years, you were always in a red qipao. His master even once told him that if he managed to win your heart, he'd organise a tea ceremony and act in the role of Suo’s father.

After disclosing these facts (the first of which makes your heart weak, and the second of which leaves it aching), he asks about any long-standing things you've always wanted to do with him as a couple. If you had any silly or indulgent daydreams about your future with him, and what they were like.

“I don't know,” you admit. “I guess after you applied to teacher’s college, I liked the idea of marrying you, and doing all the domestic things you talked about. Though you were just joking at the time.”

You don't really expect him to remember much about this particular line of teasing. Sure, the man is currently obsessed with marrying you, and maybe he daydreamed about it a little bit when he was younger—but he mostly treated the idea as a funny joke when he was a teenager. All of the teasing has probably blurred together for him over the years. Certainly, it has for you.

But you've never been able to forget this particular memory. It’s one of those small, inconsequential moments that you find yourself incapable of letting go to this day. You loved hearing him talk about getting married, even though it hurt immensely that it was probably just teasing. You loved it because you wanted it. You wanted Suo to teach people because you knew he was good at it and it would make him genuinely happy. You wanted to stop working in the red light district and make a nice and safe home for Suo, just as he'd made a nice and safe home for you. And you wanted to marry him and kiss him and have sex with him and only him for the rest of your life.

You wanted it so badly, it still makes you heart ache to think about it.

He was definitely just teasing you, though. Suo was a sane person at the time, and sane people do not actually plan a marriage and life with someone before dating them or even fucking them. Most importantly, a sane person wouldn't hold onto such a silly joke for so long. Oh, you expect him to say, laughing. You're right, I had nearly forgotten.

But all he does is give you a smile. It's one of his strange, enigmatic ones.

“No, I was quite serious about it,” Suo says, looking right at you.

You stare at him.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He's being so straightforward, so earnest. Your typical reaction would be to feel flustered, sentimental—but something about his expression and tone bothers you. But before you can suss out what it is, he continues, and the moment passes.

“Was there anything else you ever wanted to do?” he asks smoothly.

You're startled, off-guard. “Oh, um… not really. I never let myself think too much about it.”

“Come on,” he prods. “There must be something.”

“No, I really didn't think of any ideas on my own. Although…”

Your face gets hot as you trail off. Suo senses weakness, and goes in for the kill.

“Although?”

“It's too embarrassing,” you admit, looking away, and Suo looks a little too interested as he pesters you for an answer.

“Come on, it's fine.” His mouth curls in a way that tells you it's not fine. “I promise I won't judge you. I just want to know what I can do to make you happy as your husband.”

You give him an uncertain look, and say your only concrete fantasy about him so quickly and quietly that he misses it.

“Pardon?” he asks.

“...romantic, vanilla sex.”

Suo blinks. “What?”

Your face burns with humiliation.

“I used to think about having romantic, vanilla sex with you. When I was a teenager. A lot.” Said as if you weren't just thinking about it two months ago in a love hotel, and still don't want it now. You wouldn't even bring it up if you didn't think it was necessary. But unfortunately, you're professionally skilled at perceiving people’s sexual interests, and you've perceived that Suo is sexually a freak. He was definitely going easy on you tonight, and is probably actively planning to get worse. You'll never have normal sex with him unless you explicitly state a desire for it.

Suo gives you a surprised look. “That's… a very mundane fantasy.”

“It wouldn't have been mundane to me,” you reply, somewhat defensively. “I used to think about it when I slept with my customers, who weren't very romantic. Or vanilla. So I didn’t really have a good reference point or anything for that kind of sex, but sometimes I still thought about doing it with you after they had left.”

You look away after saying this, wondering why you disclosed all of that. It certainly wasn't necessary for your dream of someday taking Suo’s cock without being psychosexually tortured first. Now you feel like you need to hide. You even think about excuses for stopping the car, and ponder again how difficult it would be to live without proof of identity, if you chose to run away.

But Suo doesn't let you run. He pulls you close to him, wrapping you up in his warmth.

“It's okay,” he says gently, in a voice that reminds you of how he was in his old Furin days. “You'll be okay. I'll make sure of it.” It confuses you deeply, and you turn to ask him what the fuck he's going on about.

You don't even realise you're crying until he starts kissing away your tears.

You can’t understand why you’re weeping. Maybe something strange and hormonal happened while you were having sex, like Suo made you orgasm too hard and all the oxytocin is making you depressed now. Though you think that hormone is supposed to make you happy. You're not sure. You never finished school, so you wouldn't know.

Whatever the reason, you hastily wipe away your tears. A hand rubs at your back, and you let yourself press your face into his shoulder.

“Sorry,” you say quickly.

“Don't apologise. You don't have anything to be sorry for.”

You hesitate as you breathe against the silk threads of his shirt, thinking about how many of his shirts you've ruined with your tears. At least three changshan and one Versace summer piece, by your count. It’s not like he hurts over the money these days, but guilt tugs at your heart.

“I don't know about that,” you mumble into his shoulder. And it takes a while to work yourself up to saying it, but eventually you whisper, with full honesty, “I'm sorry for always worrying you.”

“I know,” Suo says. He sounds sincere when he says, “I’m sorry too.”

“I’ll try to be better from now on.”

“You will be. And even if you aren’t, that's fine.”

For some reason, that makes your heart squeeze.

You melt against Suo after that, listening to the steady roll of tires and passing traffic outside. There's a gentle pitter patter of rain against the car roof, tinny and rhythmic, that gradually crescendos into a proper storm. The windshield wipers squeak against the glass. All of the noise is lulling you into a kind of peace, or maybe you're just feeling that way because Suo is holding you.

Fatigue wears your consciousness, and you close your eyes. The hustle and bustle of the red light district grows distant, faint—partly from slipping in and out of your dreams, and partly from the quieting world outside. It's now completely silent other than the heavy rainfall. You think they must be taking the road through Makochi. Suo asks for it whenever he wants you to sleep well.

He probably thinks you're asleep when he says, “I’m sorry for being how I am now.”

You almost stop breathing. Almost.

“You didn't fall in love with me when I was like this, so you must not like it very much,” he continues. “I know that Master wouldn't like me much either, if he were alive. He always said that you should support your loved ones until they can stand on their own two feet. But lately, I feel like all I've been doing is breaking yours.”

He sighs. The sky groans with distant thunder.

“Sakura knows who I really am, you know,” he says quietly. “I think he's worried about what'll happen to you if we get married. Though he’s been worried about you for a while.” Suo almost sounds endeared when he adds, “Did you know he only texts me now to ask if you're okay? He really does love you.”

He’s more sombre when he continues, “But Nirei is just afraid of me. That’s why he’s never around. He’s going to call you in a week and tell you not to go through with the wedding. He’ll probably tell you to leave me too. It’s good advice.”

It's hard to keep your breathing slow, with how badly your heart hurts.

“I’ve tried to go back to how I was, to the kind of person that Master was trying to raise,” Suo confesses. “But I don't think I can get better.”

But even if you can't, you want to tell him, that’s fine. You wish you could hold him how he's always held you.

“It doesn't usually upset me nowadays,” he admits after some time, “how I am now. But to be honest, talking about our school days did make me feel bitter, because I can't give you the things I know you wanted.”

He kisses the top of your head. Gently, so as not to wake you from your dream.

“I'm sorry I never became a teacher. I'm sorry I joined the yakuza. I'm sorry I can't give you a normal life. And I'm sorry I can’t have an honest conversation with you.”

Silence. You feel his chest stop briefly, his breathing deepen.

“Maybe someday, I'll get better enough to say these things to you while you're awake. Maybe someday, I'll even get better enough to let you leave. It would be best for you.”

His voice gets even softer. Tender.

“But for now, I don't know how to let you go.”

You feel a hand shifting away, the soft noise of leather against skin. Then both arms around you again, even warmer, even tighter. He’s leaning his head against yours. You think Suo is falling asleep.

Allowing yourself a single, quick glance at the car, you peer at your reflections in the rearview mirror. You see sheets of rain sliding against the back window, his dark lashes pressed to his skin, and all the scar tissue he likes to keep hidden away.

And you can see, very clearly, tears beneath his missing eye.

END 'TOKYO VICE'

hi everyone thanks for reading this chapter!!!! i hope it didn't disappoint after all the shitposting i did about it this week lol

can i just say. this was straight up the weirdest sex scene I've ever written HASLKFJSDF and the mood whiplash throughout this was probably the craziest i've ever written within a single piece. unfortunately, this reader copes with her trauma via humour and sex and it really shows rip. i hope it wasn't too offputting!

thank you to everyone who left a comment on part 1!! please do let me know if you enjoyed part 2 as well. <333

tagging @kweenkatsuki-fics and @stuckindreamland06!

[blackdykegirlblogger]

a/n: yes yes ik she's bi/pan but hey let's just pretend she doesn't like dick for a TINY second. this is pure butchcock (9 inches-) folks, take it or leave it (this came to me while i was in the midst of greening out and i was like woah!)

wc: a little over 1k

what can be said about ambessa medarda?

well, it depends on who you ask. to some, she's a symbol of everything noxus stands for: power, dominance, exuding an energy of strength and might so potent that it rumbles the battlefield. she was a symbol, someone to be admired.

to others, she was cruel. bloodthirsty. a tyrant who needed to be put down and stopped before she can inflict any more tragedy on whoever crossed her path.

but regardless of how one felt about her, one thing was always clear: she knew how to keep her clan in line. like any good chief, it was her sole responsibility to uphold a certain sense of morale among her soldiers. after all, it's mighty hard to feel like performing at your best day after day when that thought constantly plagued the back of your mind. the reminder that you were fighting for her, and fighting with your life. every conflict, every war. death knocked on your door constantly, and shit, it was just fucking spooky.

for her male warriors, the promise of typical medals and bragging rights hung over their heads, leaving them to jump and leap for it like the little pawns that they were (not that they knew that). men were always so easy to toy with, so proud, so arrogant. their egos being the only thing that they ever seemed to think with.

well, not the only thing. but, to put it bluntly, cock has never been her preference.

now, for all the fine gals armored up, she had a very different way of showing her appreciation for such blind loyalty.

your legs were thrown on either side of ambessa's lap, drooling cunt on full display as the warlord fucked you with a vengeance. her fat thumb flicked on your clit repeatedly, using the gallons to slick you were producing to draw little shapes onto the bud. she massaged her palm over your pussy, giving it a few firm slaps before sliding not one, not two, but three of her fingers into your cunt. the stretch was unforgiving, but you tried your hardest not to squirm away or resist. you were dumb and grateful for whatever she decided to give you, however or whenever she choose.

"this is what i expect from you all. submission. obedience." her voice boomed over the courtyard. it was barely the asscrack of dawn, the lanterns scattered around the lot of you making up for the lack of sunlight. and yet, the stage was filled. ambessa had a tradition of picking a.....soldier of the month, so to speak, and you had been her newest prize. every warrior with a cunt between their legs knew where to meet on the fated 28th of every month, praying that their good behavior had managed to catch her attention this time around.

you weren't even sure what you did, to be completely honest. you had slipped up several times during training, forgetting a certain move or staying off-guard long enough to get tackled when it was time to spar. you (along with the others) found the idea of you being her latest star student laughable.

and yet.....

she clearly saw something in you, whatever it was.

and it was enough for her to decide to make you leak with her godly touch. her digits pulled out before slamming back into you with rhythm, not only assaulting your g-spot, but areas you didn't even know existed. the tips of her fingers curled just right as streams of creamy white arousal oozed from you. maybe, if you were actually coherent and with half a brain, you would've felt some form of shame from being so exposed. maybe embarrassment. humiliation, even.

but again, you would need to have the ability to think in order to feel any of that.

your head was lolled back on her shoulder, eyes briefly meeting hers as she continued to drain you for all you had. you couldn't quite read her expression, but it only served to turn you on even more.

without even a fraction of a heads up or warning, she tears her fingers (and in turn, your orgasm) out of you, leaving you gaping and pulsing around nothing but air. oh, you were going to be the talk of the fucking town after this.

she lifted you with ease with only one of her hands, hovering you over where you were initially spread out as she used the other to guide her cock out of her pants. considering that she was well over 6 feet and built like a fucking military tank, it was only natural that what was between her thighs followed suit. you had seen it many, many times before (and creamed at the thought of it even more), but still.

it was kind of scary.

"look at them, girl. show your peers what they could earn if they perform to my standards." her dick, slathered in pre-cum and standing loud and proud, twitched with every minor movement. after what felt like ages of tense anticipation, she finally lowered you onto her. if you thought her fingers were enough to keep you full, you were in for a surprise.

"a-ah!" she wasn't even at the halfway mark yet, but gods. this was unlike anything you've ever felt, anything you've ever imagined. her hands were firm on your waist, directing you to exactly where she wanted you as you continued to face the remainder of the troop. their faces were coated in lust, with a few of them shuffling uncomfortably in their seats to ease the ache that was no doubt torturing them.

she lowered you even further, inch by inch as her girth began to suffocate you. you could feel her everywhere, and the bulge slowly appearing by your belly button only proved it. you really, really weren't sure if you could take anymore, but the last thing you wanted was to disappoint her.

no, never that.

so you had to grit your teeth and take it. absolute submission, just like she wanted. she was balls deep and tears were escaping from your eyes in bursts as you sobbed. it hurt, obviously, but it felt so fucking good. her tip kissed your cervix just right as she bounced you.

your grip welcomed her as much as it could, not even having the chance to squeeze her back out because she just kept on slamming you down.

she paid you no mind, piercing eyes raking over the crowd as she used you like a fleshlight. "let this motivate you all, hmm?"

"if you're lucky, you might be next."

[backseatsoldier]

"Broken", Not Stupid - 3

Pairing: alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x unusual omega!OC (13)

CW: Omegaverse; cult-like situation; dehumanization

Author's Note: If y'all keep feeding the Author Dragon inside me (comments, likes, reblogs), the Author Dragon is going to keep feeding me ideas. So here we GO-

All of the red flags and alarms light up in Simon's head. She said her name is 13.

What the hell kind of place is this?

"Are all of you, the omegas here- do you all have numbers for names?" he asks through gritted teeth.

"Yeah. Weird, right? It was like that in all the facilities I've been in," 13 explains with a shrug.

As if sensing the anger boiling in Simon's mind she shakes her head.

"Not here," she whispers. "If they hear you questioning things, you'll be banned from all Salvation locations with some bullshit reason. You wanna be mad, do it off the property and away from their eyes and ears."

13 pauses for a moment, checking their surroundings before continuing with determination in her eyes.

"Take me in. I'll tell you what I know and can remember. Then you can do what you want with the information."

"What do you mean 'what you can remember'?"

Her hand shoots up, covering his already masked mouth, to stop him.

"Hush! Just... do the paperwork so you can take me in and I'll explain when I'm out of here," she whispers harshly.

Then 13's entire demeanor changes. She becomes... an omega. Then her hand slides down his cheek to his chest and she looks up at him with puppy-love eyes.

"I never thought I'd find an alpha. I'm just so weird and wrong," she pouts.

The scent of one of the beta workers, Jenny, catches Simon's attention. 13 is acting - she must have also smelled Jenny approach. She's putting a lot of trust in someone she just met, but Simon's glad it's him and not any of the other alphas that walked in today.

"Is everything alright, sir? UK-009-0013 isn't usually the... sociable type," Jenny addresses Simon hesitantly.

Jenny's description of 13 makes a look of annoyance flash over 13's face briefly before returning to the puppy-love look. Simon's arm snakes around 13's waist to pull her a bit closer.

"Seems plenty 'sociable' to me," he counters, playing along with 13's act. His free hand comes up to gently cup her cheek. "I'll be taking this omega."

Jenny's jaw drops and her eyes go wide.

"Oh! Um, yes! Of course, sir! I'll get the paperwork started right away," Jenny says, excitment radiating from her as she dashes off.

Once Jenny's gone, 13 steps back and drops her hand from Simon's chest, puppy-love look gone.

"Glad you caught on. Sorry for invading your space so suddenly, though. They get suspicious if we don't seem all lovey-dovey before someone agrees to take us," 13 explains non-chalantly.

"I appreciate the apology, but it's not necessary," Simon says with a dismissive shake of his head. "If it means I can figure out what's going on and get at least one of you safe, I'll do it."

"Knight in shining armor type?" she snorts.

"No. Soldier who's willing to get his hands dirty to keep the world clean," he corrects her firmly.

And he'll gladly get his hands dirty to find out what kind of shady operation Salvation truly is if it means getting all of these omegas to safety.

Masterlist | Part One

Tag list: @lucienofthelakes @lostintransist @demothers-empty-blog

[tubbytarchia]

on the topic of joel's rivalry with scott; wasn't LL!scott's kill justified on Joel, though? I feel like since Joel created so much chaos, Scott wanting to kill him and actually doing so makes sense. and in Limited life, wasn't Scott killing Joel fair again, since Joel kept trying/killing Scott? genuinely curious! I'm also a Joel fan and I agree w/your point on scott, but I feel like, while it was frustrating for joel to die to scott like that, it made sense (?)

(I'm sorry anon because I trust that you are genuinely curious and I'm trying desperately to put aside my bewilderment because I strongly disagree haha, if I sound mean please just take it as me being a very passionate Joel enjoyer please...)

Joel didn't get a single kill on Scott in LimL. Did he lead the charge? Barely. Everyone was going after Scott by the time that Joel was as well. He was no more responsible for going after Scott than half the rest of the server. The only notable kill Joel has gotten on Scott was in DL and Scott never references back to it so it's not like he's holding a grudge from that, whatever his reasons are for labelling Joel as deserving of being killed pretty much 6 times in a row, 5 of which were him, resulting in Joel's permadeath, are faulty at best. Joel legitimately has not done anything to Scott that others aren't also guilty of, Scott's insistence of having Joel dead really comes out of nowhere and the sheer magnitude of it is difficult to reason even disregarding that fact

In Last Life, yeah, I don't really care about that, that was standard death game happenings. The other instance I've been referring to instead has been Secret Life where Scott shares this similar sentiment he has in Limited Life as he kills Joel's second to last remaining teammate, and then him immediately afterward whilst taunting him about it. Just leaves a significantly terrible taste in my mouth following LimL. Joel did try and go after Scott in SL but largely only because of a task to do so. He was very happy to do it but he has never once succeeded, not even in Wild Life. Scott keeps putting Joel down and painting this image of him being deserving of his downfall when 1. Joel hasn't even tried to harm him in any notable way that Scott has referred back to until after this started and 2. he has never actually succeeded in harming Scott in any notable way after this started. And yet still Scott keeps referring to how Joel is after him for some strange reason that he can't possibly figure out, taking opportunities to taunt him and making him sound like a nuisance to his backside that he did nothing to deserve. It's incredibly frustrating when there's no justification I can see for the amount of loss he's caused for Joel in complete nonchalance. He spreads the idea that Joel is just evil and crazy (even though I'm sure he isn't even convinced of it himself, it's just beneficial for him) and should be put down like an animal for everyone's benefit and he's good at swindling people in that way to enforce his own version of events and beliefs however little water they actually hold

[championofthefade]

Warning!! This post may contain spoilers for those who haven't played Veilguard yet! This turned out a lot longer than I thought, but I'm discussing the theory that Rook is a spirit.

I know that there are issues with the writing and any theory is not created to make those issues get swept under the rug. This theory is meant to be fun, and I would like to talk about it.

I'm thinking about the "Rook is a spirit" theory I saw on twitter/x. This theory often rotates in my head often, and I think that it's so interesting.

Like, listen. I understand that narratively it would be complicated to insert into what we know is Dragon Age Veilguard. Someone brought up the fact that it would be a strange thing because wouldn't Emmrich know that Rook is a spirit the way that he knows Lucanis has Spite?

But the theory that cadhalash paints for us is the fact that Varric was for Rook what the Rook is for the companions.

"Help them with their personal problems and talk to them about their feelings, but never ask Rook how they're doing. Or if they need anything. In codex memos we learn the companions have potlucks and book clubs but Rook is not invited. We learn at the end that Varric wasn't really there... What if Rook wasn't either? There's tons of chat about this idea now with other examples of Rook being compared to a spirit in the game. Very interesting and fun!" -cadhalash

There could be the very huge chance that Emmrich would recognize Rook as a spirit, but what about a spirit made flesh?

Think about Cole's banter with Blackwall, for example:

Blackwall: How does a spirit become flesh anyway?

Cole: I don't know. How does a Warden become Grey?

It may seem like a reach, but to me, it makes sense. Cole chose to become human because that was the shape that would help, which he says in a banter with Varric.

Varric: So, Kid, why human?

Cole: It was the shape that would help.

Varric: Huh. Most people don't pick a shape. I guess I was hoping for something deeper with that question.

Cole: It had to be him. But harmless. The him he wanted that wouldn't hurt.

Varric: Well that's... deeper. I think.

You may be thinking, "Hey, Atlas. That might be a little reaching, don't you think?"

Well, yes. Applauding the people that caught onto Solas in the Dragon Age Fandom years and years ago now because you all were on the nose about him being a worm (spirit). But considering what we know from Dragon Age as a whole, it could be possible that Rook is too a spirit of a different kind.

We know that Emmrich can sense Spite. We know that Emmrich can talk directly to Spite. But what if Rook was more like Cole? Would Emmrich's ability to speak to spirits or sense them so close apply?

I would say, that depends on the type of Spirit that Rook would be, right? This has a lot of wiggle room for what you think your Rook would be as a spirit?

From the Wiki:

Spirits lack imagination and creativity; everything they make is based off something made by mortals. Whether benevolent or malevolent, most spirits cannot help but mine a Fade visitor's mind for their thoughts and memories. They then mimic the pieces of life they see by shaping the Fade into various realms that cater to the unconscious desires of the living, providing experiences to the sleeping that become their "dreams."

And the Spirits listed:

Command, Compassion (Cole), Courage, Curiosity (Manfred), Duty, Faith (Wynne), Honor, Hope, Justice(Anders), Learning, Love, Perseverance, Purpose, Valor, Wisdom (Solas).

(We know from Veilguard that Spite is referred to as a spirit of Determination/ mentioned in a data mine, Passion.)

For the sake of the theory, let's say that Emmrich would get an inkling. A prickling feeling even that he knows that there's a spirit near by and would chalk it up to being Manfred because he would know that, right? But then there's Spite. How big of an energy read does Emmrich get from Lucanis to immediately go, 'Yeah, you've got a tag along and I'm sorry it wasn't a willing possession'.

So, how would it get unnoticed by Emmrich, the resident Fade Expert?

Well... Reading further down said wiki page, we find this:

As Rhys puts it in a dialogue with Cole, "being important makes you real". (Asundered reference, I believe?)

Being important makes you real. Rook becomes the 'leader' when Varric gets hurt at the beginning of the game. For the entirety of the game, as Rook, you have to build a team to fight ancient elvhen gods. Rook has to be what Varric was, pulling people that Solas didn't know into trying to save the world from going to shit.

Rook was given a purpose. To save the world.

Regardless of how Rook is perceived, they are in charge. They are in a position that they didn't want, probably was expecting to go home after dealing with this Dread Wolf that they were recruited to stop, and now... They're given a role that would make them important. And as before being important makes you real.

Could Rook be something akin to Cole rather something like Spite or other spirits that we know in Veilguard?

Here's another thing: Solas.

Yes, we are talking about the egg. I'll try to keep this as coherent as possible. We know that Solas didn't want to come from the Fade to be a human (another discussion for another time). We learn that Solas was a spirit of Wisdom, whose Wisdom was twisted into a weapon and forced to do things that stripped Solas of what he wanted to keep for himself. To remain as Wisdom.

This makes it interesting if we add to the fact that Rook could choose to outsmart Solas. Because at that pivotal moment, Solas was Pride. On his pride, it was always the sword he would fall on.

Say what you will about the trick ending, but this is something that shouldn't be glossed over. Being outsmarted by Rook, Solas says, "I am a fool... Who has met his match."

Met his match. This also might be another case of reaching, but it's interesting phrasing from someone who tells clever half-truths and never quite lies. Being tricked by Rook out of pure wits alone. Something that he thought he succeeded in.

What does this have to do with spirits?

Solas, who was brought out of the Fade to take a body to join the elves in a fight against the Titans. Solas, who crafted the lyrium dagger to sunder the Titans from their dreams in hopes of stopping the war. Solas, who created the blight from the Titans' severed dreams. Solas, who started a rebellion against the ancient elvhen gods who abused their power.

Rook, who was brought onto a job to stop the Dread Wolf. Rook, who disrupted the ritual in hopes of stopping Solas. Rook, who started a double blight from freeing these ancient elvhen gods. Rook, who has to build a team to stop these ancient elven gods.

I would say, in spirit, Rook is a mirror of Solas. I'm not saying Rook is wise like Solas or anything like that. But there is something about Rook being Solas' mirror that could fold into Rook being a Spirit of Reflection.

This is just something that comes to mind. Rooks helps Taash discover their identity, helps Emmrich deal with his fear of mortality, helps Neve protect Dock Town, helps Bellara with Cyrian, helps Harding with the Titans, helps Davrin with the griffons, and helps Lucanis with Spite. (Generalized, all choice dependent.) These are reflections of the companions. These are reflections of the people that Rook had brought together to save the world.

It could easily be written off because we're not entirely sure how many spirits there are, but I digress.

Of course, that too would beg the question of how it would apply to all Rooks from all backgrounds?

Let's take a look at the ones that make me think.

Shadow Dragon Rook

The foundling Rook was adopted into a military family and joined the Shadow Dragons to fight from the shadows for change in Minrathous.

We learn in a dialogue with Tarquin that a Shadow Dragon Rook was found on a battlefield by the Mercar family.

Now with this little bit of dialogue, it makes me (personally) think back to what Solas says about him walking the Fade and seeing ancient battlefields where spirits reenact wars from the other side of the Veil. There could have been spirits that were there during this battle where SD Rook was found. (It also kinda reminds me of Loki being found by Odin and raised in Asgard. Don't come for me, I've only watched the movies.)

For the sake of theory, say that a spirit that would have looked over a SD Rook before they were found by the Mercars. Thinking about it, it reminds me of how Cole (the mage) was watched over by Compassion and then Compassion took a shape that would help.

A spirit (in Spite's case) can be drawn to a person, yes? As Determination, we know that Spite was drawn to Lucanis' determination to live or something of the like. (I will live to spite you, essentially.)

Mourn Watch Rook

Discovered by undead inside a Grand Necropolis tomb as an infant, Rook was raised by Mourn Watch necromancers, eventually joining the order.

Relating back to the Muttering Undead that is in a coffin on the path from Emmrich's recruitment:

Stumbling… The steps. Skeletons saw… Oh no choice. Had to be brave… Had to be brave… Too late to cry… Save the (girl, boy, baby) with the grave.

This is a little more open ended. We know nothing about Ingellvar beyond that. We don't know where they came from, only that they were found inside a tomb. It makes me scratch my head.

We know that it's a custom in Nevarra that a spirit could reanimate a skeleton, essentially, and bring some part of their consciousness from back across the Veil. We see that Manfred, when you choose to bring him back, is brought back from across the Veil and returns with magic.

Sure, it's not the same thing as building a body out of Titan's blood, but the idea that the spirits that became the Evanuris are the best of the physical and the Fade offers up to the idea that they were going to have magic anyway when they crossed the Veil. Only lyrium gave them more power than I think that they knew what to do with.

I make this point from the perspective that Mourn Watchers are typically necromancers. They are almost always close to places where the Veil is thin enough for a spirit to come across and possessing a body in a sense.

When it comes to the Muttering Undead, I don't know who that could have been or what they were doing in the Necropolis. But it's clear that they were determined to save Mourn Watch Rook, and they were the one that put Rook in the tomb.

This one makes me scratch my head because it's so broad and vague. For the theory that Rook is a spirit, this is the origin/background/faction that lends itself to the idea because in Nevarra they revere and respect their dead with the ability to raise the corpses to continue contributing to the Grand Necropolis. But we're talking about a wee baby Rook growing up in the Necropolis. Could it be possible that the saving of Rook is more spirit in a tomb?

The last things I would like to touch on.

Dialogue with Harding (her romance I believe?) :

Harding: I've seen spirits leave the Fade and become real people. (COLE!!!)

Rook: You think I could be a spirit in disguise?

Harding: It isn't malicous. They're just drawn to strong emotion. And then...one day, real people.

Rook: I think I'm really me, and I'm really here.

This is why I mentioned Cole earlier.

And the absence of Rook in the Veilguard mural is brought up in the theory as well. Rook's absence on the mural strikes me as odd. Because yes, the companions would be a main focus in the stories that would follow them. But what about Rook, the person who brought these vastly different people together and saved the world? Not there. Were they ever there?

Much to think about.

[starlightomatic]

I commented this on another reblog chain but for some reason it's not showing up in the notes, so I thought I'd put it here too, since it segues off of that comic:

I think the issue here is that if you're hated enough, any word for you becomes a slur. This whole thing... frustrates me, because the reason people think of Jew as insulting is because Jew has been used as an insult.

But like... it was an insult not because its definition was insulting, but because the content of the insult was that the recipient was Jewish. If you think Jews are dirty, you don't even need to say dirty Jew. "Jew" gets your meaning across quite well. And thus a name that derives from one of our founding ancestors, Yehuda ("Judah") gets warped into something insulting.

Worth noting that a similar process has occurred to words for Black people and disabled people: a neutral word turns insulting and needs to be replaced. In those cases it has happened multiple times.

Also, as additional context, in some European languages, words for Jew (including words derived from Yid, the Yiddish word for Jew) are considered derogatory and so the Jewish communities in many places use or have used other terms for themselves, like Israelite or Hebrew. The specific examples I know of are Ukraine and Hungary.

I think the odd thing for some of us in the US is growing up calling ourselves Jews and never thinking twice about it, and then it kind of surfacing that to non-Jews the word Jew has all these kind of negative connotations... and then the response of some Jews on tumblr was, as the previous commenter mentioned, to say that now non-Jews should not use the word.

But my response is like, wait a minute. Can we go back a second? Like, for me there's a real discomfort that arises from the idea that a word I've always called myself without thinking twice about is seen as derogatory or rude by people outside my community!

Like, I don't know, let's say I was cheerfully talking to straight people about being bi and they kind of gave me an "ew" face or a "that's not an appropriate word" face and continued the conversation by referring to me as a "person of multi-attracted experience." It would... come across as though they were saying that there's something fundamentally icky about bisexuality and that it needs a euphemism.

And so "Jewish people" has always come across as a euphemism to me. And since you only need euphemisms for something icky, it feels as though people are saying that being a Jew is icky (or awkward, embarrassing, shameful) and so they need some kid gloves to talk around it.

As in: "You're not a gross, sneaky, sniveling Jew! You're a nice, clean, upstanding Jewish person!"

Which only serves to make me ask "wait, you think Jews are gross, sneaky, and sniveling?"

It's not intended that way at all ofc and I don't think that's what's actually happening in most cases but that's how it can come off when you try to euphemize a marginalized aspect of someone's identity! It makes them wonder what you thought needed smoothing over.

In actually what I think is happening is that people are surfacing the fact that historically those connotations (gross, sneaky, sniveling, miserly, untrustworthy, subhuman) are attached to the word Jew when non-Jews use it.

I guess though, I had thought -- and do still think, mostly, kind of -- that we were coming out of that period of history and into a place where people don't associate those things with Jews and were ready to keep using the word Jew without those connotations.

Because I see where folks are coming out of respect, not wanting to use a word with insulting connotations, but the problem is that by refusing to use the word you're keeping the connotations stuck to it. If everyone were to use the word Jew in neutral and positive senses, it would lose those antisemitic connotations.

But instead they're staying attached, which means that then when I self-describe as a Jew, it's as though I'm bringing those connotations into the conversation. Like, hi everyone! I am a dirty Jew! And because of this I have started self-describing as a "Jewish person" in certain contexts even though I hate it, because I don't want people to be put off by my calling myself a Jew. Especially in contexts where I am trying to come off as non-confrontational, as though I'm trying to "soften" whatever I'm bringing to the table, though maybe that's its own whole thing.

And then one thing that's extremely uncomfortable is when I see antisemitic stuff where the person has carefully made sure to use "Jewish person" or "Jewish people" instead of Jew. That's just kind of skin-crawly in a way I'm not sure how to articulate, but I think it demonstrates that if someone is antisemitic they'll be antisemitic no matter what semantic shifts get pushed.

The impression that I'd had before this post was that this was an example of a pretty common phenomenon on this site is that a small group of users from a marginalized group come up with some sort of lexical discourse, present it as the universal opinion of that group, and then well-meaning allies adopt it and it spreads far beyond tumblr, and that it honestly was only a niche bit of tumblr discourse in the first place.

What I'm learning from the notes on this post though is the word "Jew" has been policed by non-Jews for many years, likely from before tumblr existed. Which really only serves to highlight the discomfort I mentioned earlier. It also reminds me of when allistic people say things like "she's on the spectrum" instead of "she's autistic." They feel that "autistic" is offensive because they see autism negatively. And our response to that isn't to agree and to ask allistics not to use the word autistic, but rather to continue educating people to accept and respect autistic people.

On that note, I'm thinking about the campaign in recent years to remind people that disabled is not a dirty word, and that people don't need to and shouldn't be trying to euphemize it.

In conclusion, sorry for how rambly this was, but hopefully this is illuminating as to why the shift to "Jewish people" is actually pretty uncomfortable for a lot of us.

Where are all these goyim getting the idea that it’s not okay for them to use the word Jew as a noun?

(Obviously depending on the context it can be intended as an insult/function as a slur, but it’s also… what we’re called in English???)