#I'm not very strong and I drop things all the time

[micia-posts-stuff]

Some ramblings about chapter 113 of Spy x Family

I know I'm one week too late and all of this stuff has probably already been said by other people, but I have been too busy and tired to write down my thoughts earlier and I still wanted to do it, so here they are anyway :D

Spoilers under the cut

This will never not be funny part 1

This will never not be funny part 2

All jokes aside, I love how Endo uses manga as a medium for visual gags. Having Damian fight the sfx of his feelings and changing style for dramatic shoujo scenes, it seems like he's having a lot of fun coming up with these. Also Damian seems to be an expert when it comes to breaking the fourth wall ahah. Franky may be the one interacting with the readers outside of the story, but within the story itself, Damian's tsundere tendencies are too strong even for the fabric of their reality ahahah.

Also Becky being an absolute menace as usual, we love her for that. She's having way too much fun messing with Damian, who needs Berlint in Love when you can watch those two interact every day?

First of all "If you got problems, talk to us!" They are such good friends to him, I'm so glad! I'm so glad for every person Damian has on his side! He needs all the support system he can get. They are so precious!!!

Second, no it's not about language studies, if fact, that is a rare occasion for him to interact with Anya ahah.

Third, him clenching his heart in agony and literally fighting demons in his sleep, it's so cute, his crush is the cutest thing in the world I can't-

And lastly HE REALLY WENT FOR THE "IT'S NOT FOR ME, IT'S FOR A FRIEND OF MINE" EXCUSE. It's too funny T.T

AND OF COURSE THEY BELIEVED HIM T.T

These two I swear!

They know they are Damian's only friends, but no, he can't be lying! So instead of questioning him they assume there must be someone else! Comedy gold T.T

And it works because they are kids! I love how every miscommunication trope becomes more realistic and less annoying because they are kids and so it makes sense.

This whole chapter was a big win for Mr. Green, absolute MVP. Great advice for the characters and the readers. This chapter really resembled one of those kids cartoons ment to teach how to deal with different aspects of life, it was very nice.

I hope we get to see him more often, every time we see his mentoring skills they're an absolute treat!

Oh my heart!!! "You guys are my only true friends" T.T and their happy faces all sparky T.T

These three and their friendship are so precious to me!!! I really want to see a little chapter about how they met and how Ewen and Emile have come to respect Damian so much.

I really like how Damian tells them they're his friends here. Their dynamic was a bit stereotypical of the bully with his goons at the beginning, but I'm soooo happy that after that Endo has been constantly showing that no, actually, they really are friends. Tbh sometimes this friendship was a bit missing from Damian's side (Ewen and Emile jumping in the river for Damian and Emile not running away from the terrorist because Damian had "a bomb" on his neck, whereas Damian wanted to ask Ewen for his handkerchief to avoid getting a tonitrus < although this was also because of the panic about his father, but still) so for a long time I wanted to see him showing his affection for them somehow and in this chapter we finally got just that! For someone that has such a hard time dealing with his feelings, telling them "You guys are my only true friends" I'm sure means a lot. And you can see he's a bit embarrassed saying it, but he does it anyway because they're important to him!

First of all, very cool design for the Paradise Fist and Damian's dream sequences in general, but also veeery interesting lore drop about Donovan (dropping important lore like that in the middle of a silly chapter, classic Endo).

So Donovan was most likely in power when the war ended and that's probably where the idea that he stopped the war came from, at least from Damian's perspective. We know that Donovan is (likely) trying to start a new war, so it's very interesting that Damian considers him a man of peace. Is this his personal belief because he puts him on a pedestal or is it somewhat of a common idea amongst citizens? Did Donovan contribute to the birth of this image of himself or was it just a natural consequence? Does he want to be seen as a man of peace? Why did he even stop the war? A lot of interesting questions.

Regardless, I think this is also very important for Damian' character, that he admires his father because he thinks he stopped a war. First of all now it makes even more sense why he looks up to him so much. I mean it already made sense, but if we add the fact that, in Damian's pov, his father is responsible for the current peace, it's obvious that he'll keep admiring him, regardless of how cold he may be. Second it is very important to establish Damian's morals. Ever since he talked about his father during the war, in the bus hijacking arc, I wanted to know what he actually knew about his father's role in the previous conflict, if he aligned with his views and if he was indoctrinated somehow. But if he's convinced that his father stopped a war and he admires him for that, then it shows Damian is actually a pacifist, which will also make it all the more tragic when he'll eventually discover what Donovan is currently plotting.

Also it's interesting how Damian even ended up with these morals. Is Jeeves teaching him that? Does he do it following Donovan's orders or does he go against him? Or maybe it's just Damian's own personal values, it's not that weird that he naturally came to appreciate peace, I guess I just find it kinda weird that he wasn't taught the opposite. It's s very interesting.

Anyway, moving on

Yeah I think you really broke him Becky, he was fighting a Buzz demon in his sleep! The poor boy can't take any more! (The fiscal manifestation of the Paradise Fist is adorable!!!)

I love love loooove this part. The truth is that both Anya and Damian are geeky kids that have a lot of interests in common and they would have so much fun playing pretend together, if one of them wasn't so mean 👀

Anya likes the real Damian, the kid that likes action stories and has a big imagination. I really like that, because it shows she is not after him just because of Strix, it's obviously just his attitude that is throwing her off and that she actually appreciates his true self. I hope he'll start to realise that and embrace it. Like look at him! All the happy sparkles, he's so glad to have her attention. And the buzz going away. C'mon Damian don't you want to feel like this more often? Just a happy silly kid!

Also side note, he made the same face he made when he said Ewen and Emile were his only true friends! Adorable!

It seems like Damian has acknowledged and accepted his feelings of jealousy and that means that he has or he will acknowledge and accept the reason why they're there, the progression may be slow but it's definitely there and I really like how it's done.

Perfect way to end this chapter ahah, not only because it's funny, but also because it showcases yet another type of jealousy/envy. Showing that jealousy can come from different sources like friendships, crushes and parenting/mentoring and that both kids and adults are subject to it, once again helps with the message of the chapter about embracing these feelings and making peace with them.

All in all I loved this chapter. We finally explored Damian's feeling of jealousy, learned some interesting stuff and it had a very good moral message. Although I'm very biased because Eden chapters are always my favourites eheh. If Eden chapters have a million fans, then I am one of them. If Eden chapters have ten fans, then I am one of them. If Eden chapters have only one fan, that's me. If Eden chapters have no fans, then I'm dead.

(Btw I'm going to add 3 more pictures in a reblog of this post, because I reached the image limit. I don't have too much too say about them, but I really liked them and I wanted to highlight them. So you can't check them out in the notes of this post if you want.)

[karikarasuno]

part four | part five | part six

flowers. law buys you flowers as a thank you for taking care of him. he doesn't even know if you like flowers, but he saw the bouquet at the grocery store and figured it wouldn't hurt.

unfortunately, now he feels awkward. he's never been one to overthink. analytical, yes, but never nervous that he's going to do or say the wrong thing. when it comes to you, though, he finds it hard to concentrate. he very oddly wants to impress you. he also really enjoys the way you feel comfortable relying on him.

so, of course, he hesitates knocking on your door with the bouquet held firmly in his strong grip. what if you don't like them? or worse, what if you're allergic? he shouldn't feel embarrassed by the thought, but he does.

whatever. he's got nothing else to lose, so he rings your doorbell. you're breathless when you answer like he interrupted something. and he could have given the fact that your clothes look thrown on, your tank top sitting slightly askew on your chest and he has to fight the heat crawling up his neck at the fact that you're not wearing a bra.

"hi!" you breathe out with a friendly smile, adjusting your shirt when you notice. "how are you feeling?"

"good," he clears his throat when his voice breaks, "better."

"i healed you," you nod with a sly smile, hand rising to lay flat over your heart. the sight makes him chuckle. you always make it so easy for him to relax. to just feel normal.

"guess you're the real doctor around here." he stretches the hand holding the flowers to you and he watches as your eyes light up and a slight blush tints your cheeks.

both of your hands rise to cover his and you lean over to sniff the side closest to you. "i'm glad someone's finally noticed how talented i am."

you wink at him over the bouquet and he fights a smile. "i'm assuming these are for me?"

you take the flowers from him, delicately touching the petals. he only nods, shuffling a bit in your doorway. timid.

"how'd you know these were my favorite?"

"lucky guess," he shrugs, but something twists in his chest. pride, maybe. or perhaps it's something deeper. something sappier. something he hasn't felt in quite a long time. "it's a small thanks for everything you did."

"well, if you really wanna show me your gratitude i think i have something else in mind." your eyes wander down his body shamelessly. he tries not to tense up at the implication. but excitement drops low and heavy in his gut.

"my tv recently stopped working and the new one just came in..." you take a step back, beckoning for him to follow you inside. his eyes follow yours to the living room where a wide box stands in the center. he knows exactly what you want and he can't help but laugh.

"now you're just using me," he says with a shake of his head, but he still closes the door behind him. he still walks over to the large box even though you're heading towards your kitchen with the flowers. there's already a mount on your wall from the last tv, so this isn't a tough task. just a quick replacement.

"hey, it's not my fault," you call out from the kitchen, but he can't see you. "i could ask one of the guys to do it, but they're not as reliable as you."

that makes him feel good. until he registers the word guys. "what guys?"

he bristles. he has no right to feel this way. to be jealous. he'd be delusional to think he's the only man in your life.

"well i used to get kid to do this stuff, but he's useless and i hate him," you laugh. he warms at your disdain for your ex. "usually i get zoro to do it, but he's forgetful. franky on the other hand is super good at this stuff, but he doesn't go anywhere without robin and that makes scheduling tricky since we're all so busy most of the time."

you come over carrying a vase, showing off the bouquet pleased before setting it in the center of your dining table. he watches as you keep spinning the vase until you like the way it looks, nodding in satisfaction when you're done fiddling with it. cute.

"but you, on the other hand," you twirl to face him, "you're always around exactly when i need you."

his entire body warms up. law likes being needed. and you in particular are always so needy.

"i'm always happy to help," he says, grabbing the scissors you're holding out to him and slicing the tape to open the box. you plop on the recliner beside him, just watching as he removes plastic and styrofoam. your gaze is attentive. there's clear tension sparking between the two of you, but he ignores it. because he has a task to complete.

"hold the box for me so i can pull this out." he grips each end of the tv firmly but with care. you slide off the recliner, kneeling in front of him as you reach for the box. the position you put yourself in does not go unnoticed by him. he's positive it's intentional on your end, especially when you look up at him, eyes big and brows furrowing just slightly.

"like this?" the question itself is riddled in innocence. but he knows you well enough now. he knows what game you're playing, but until now his role in it has been passive.

"yeah, just like that." he keeps his tone neutral, but encouraging. you bite back a smile, pursing your lips to one side as you glance away from him. his keeps his own smile to himself, pleased by your reaction, before rolling his shoulders back and lifting the television out the box.

he asks for your assistance one more time just to hook the tv onto the mount on the wall. it's bigger than your last one and takes up most of the wall across from your couch. it's really nice.

"here," you hand him the remote as soon as he sits on the sofa. mindlessly he starts to set it up for you, flipping through the pamphlet that came with it. he knows you're watching him. your body is curled up on the cushion beside him. neither of you say anything though. but he can tell what you're thinking. because he's thinking it too.

honestly it's all he can really think about. he’s touched himself countless times to the thought of you with your thighs around his head. with your hands in his hair. with your lips on his neck. he’s thought of you on his drives to work, in the shower, in the brief moments before sleep catches him. it’s annoying the amount of space you take up in his mind.

you shift beside him, knees grazing his thigh as you move closer to him. the smell of whatever you’re wearing on your skin reaches his nose. the memory of you in his bed, beneath him and moaning his name, is triggered by the scent.

“what’s your email?” he clears his throat, eyes trained on the screen before him.

“hm?”

“to set up your account i need your email,” his eyes betray him as they move to glance at you. it was a mistake. your head is tilted and your breaths are steady but they’re so deep your chest rises and falls heavily. his eyes betray him again when they glance down. your boobs are pressed together, your nipples are poking hard against the thin material of your top. it’s cold in here, he reasons.

you start spelling out your email address, but law’s distracted. he misses a letter, you laugh, he corrects it, but then he misses another one.

“let me do it,” you chuckle when you see he’s clearly struggling. but he instinctively pulls the remote out of your reach.

“i got it this time,” he says, pointing the remote at the tv again. he’s not looking at you for the sole purpose of concentration.

“i’m starting to think you can’t spell my name,” you reach over his body to try and take the remote from him again, but he swats your hand away. it’s a playful back and forth, but you become more insistent. his hand grasps your wrist to push you away, but your shin finds his thigh. you’re practically in his lap.

he tosses the remote to the other side of the couch, grabbing your thigh with his free hand and swinging your leg to rest on the other side of his hip. straddling him.

“is this what you wanted?” he teases, his hand resting on the top of your thigh as yours comes to his shoulder.

“i don’t know what you mean,” you feign innocence, but your eyes are locked onto his lips. law rubs his thumb gently on the inside of your wrist. and if he glances down, which he won’t, he would see how close your chest is to his lips. “i wanted the remote.”

“right, so then how did we end up here?” his eyes are trained on your face. the tension is so thick it’s almost tangible. like he could grab onto it and mold it in his hands. he watches as you swallow. your lips part to say something but for once you’re at a loss for words.

“you tell me,” you whisper, leaning forward so that your forehead comes to rest against his. you really are too much. he’s never felt as drawn to anyone as he does you. you’re inescapable. it’s almost annoying except for the fact that it seems as though you want him just as badly.

his hand slides up your thigh until his fingers are wrapped around your hip and his thumb is pressing into the crease where your hip and thigh meet. he hears your sigh stutter out from between your lips. your eyes are closed now and you relax into him. you seat yourself fully into his lap instead of hovering politely like you were a few seconds ago. your breath smells like coffee. another addiction he can’t seem to rid himself of.

you kiss him softly at first. kind of shy. as if you’re testing his resolve. your lips tenderly meet his like you’re trying to share a secret with him, but you can’t quite get it out.

“i think,” he releases your wrist and moves to cradle the side of your neck instead, pulling you in closer, “you should kiss me like you mean it.”

something snaps between you at his words. a string pulled so tightly the strands shred and fray as your lips slot harshly between his. suddenly you’re holding urgency in your hands. you tug at him. your fingers seem to be everywhere all at once. and if he wasn’t as desperate for you, he’d hardly be able to keep up.

your tongue slips between his lips and licks into his mouth. a moan crawls its way up his throat when you grind down on him. your hands are quick where they pop the button on his jeans, far more agile than he expects when they pull the zipper down.

“wait,” he says against your lips as you begin to reach beneath his underwear. he’s surprised by your whine of impatience. amused when you huff an annoyed “i can’t.”

“ok,” he relents with a chuckle, bracing his hands on your hips. “go ahead.”

you kiss him again, sloppier than the last as you finally wrap your fingers around him. “oh, law.” he can’t breathe. not well at least with the way you stroke him. there’s added pressure from the confined space. and his cock is drooling with precum as it smears against your palm.

his hand rises to hold the back of your head, tilting it to deepen the kiss. his fingers tangle in your hair and he groans when you circle his tip as best you can in the tight space.

“lemme taste you,” you mumble out between kisses.

“what?” his mind is mush, his thoughts are broken and nonsensical. it takes him a second too long to process your request. instead you’re slipping off of his lap and sliding down to kneel between his parted legs.

“what’re you doing?” it’s a stupid question. he doesn’t even know why he asked because your fingers are already hooking into his pants and underwear and slowly trying to tug them down.

“what i’ve been dying to do.” you look up at him, pupils lust-blown and gaze hopeful. he lifts his hips just a bit to help you free him. your eyes widen when you see him. hard and reddened and aching. his cock twitches in response. his breath is caught in his chest and his abs are tightened in a way that’s almost painful.

you take him in your hand. your touch is gentle, exploratory. you stroke him slowly but your grip is firm and he’s biting back a groan that threatens to erupt from his chest.

your lips are next. they follow the path of your hand, featherlight as you drag them from base to tip. he can’t tear his eyes away from you. your tongue sweeps across your bottom lip, inadvertently licking his head just barely. but that alone has his hips jumping in your hold.

you conceal a smile. one that he catches a glimpse of before those same lips part and you take him into your mouth. you sigh out a small moan. almost of relief as your eyes drift shut and you start working him with both your mouth and hand. you take your time. spit starts seeping out from the corners of your lips as you continue to take him deeper.

nothing he could have ever imagined comes close to this. your tongue presses against his shaft and you swallow around him. this time he can’t hold back the noise that escapes his mouth. it’s deep and guttural and he watches it wash over you with a distinct shudder.

it only serves to spur you on. you start working him faster. your head bobbing as your hand meets each motion fervently.

he sees your other hand slip between your thighs. he can’t see what you’re doing but the action makes his hips buck and you gag around him.

“hah, shit,” law moans, his face is burning and his skin is so hot yet there’s goosebumps littering his arms. “are you touching yourself?”

“kinda hard not to,” you say, a string of spit connecting you to his dick as you pull away. your eyes are glassy from the tears that line your lashes. when you lean back in your tongue meets him first, licking a stripe along the back of him until his tip is pressed against the flat of your tongue. you look up at him with big wet eyes and he’s starting to lose it. his control.

law’s hand finds its way into your hair again, his fingers curl against your scalp gently, testing your limits. when you don’t make an effort to tell him to stop he balls his hand into a loose fist. he applies just enough pressure to make you whine, and when he tugs on your hair your eyes roll back.

he can’t do it anymore. his resolve crumbles into ashes as you light him on fire. your lips suck his cock back into your mouth. warm and wet and so skilled. he’s nearly envious of any man who’s had you before him. he can’t even stand the thought, especially when your fingers, covered in your own slick come up from between your legs to massage his balls.

“fuck, that’s-,” his words are failing him. law can’t even think with your mouth on him. “fuck, you’re gonna-,”

he’s so close. both of his hands are now practically knotted into your hair, following hopelessly as you continue your onslaught of sucking and licking. you moan around him every time his breath catches in his throat, or whenever his cock twitches against your tongue, or whenever he pulls a little harder on your hair.

it’s positively ridiculous how easily you’re unraveling him. he’s been so pent up, so frustrated, for weeks. law doesn’t need anyone. he’s fine on his own. but he needs you. he craves you in a way that feels dangerously addictive.

your name tumbles off of his tongue clumsily. the syllables disjointed as his orgasm rips down his spine, his voice nothing but crunching gravel. your hand grips his thigh when he comes, your nails scraping against denim as he unloads into your mouth. he doesn’t mean to hold you there. really.

but he can’t help the state that he’s in. that you put him in. he’s nothing but base instinct. something close to a whimper plucks at his vocal chords as you swallow every last drop until there’s nothing left for him to give you.

his back meets the cushion of your sofa again when he finally comes down. when the rush finally dies off and all that’s left is syrupy endorphins shooting through his veins. his breaths leave his mouth in hurried, pathetic puffs.

his vision is blurry but he can still make you out. you look a mess with your lips swollen and wet. your lashes are clumped together with tears. your hair is a nest from where his fingers pulled and twisted.

“i don’t think you realize how sexy you are,” you say, your voice is hoarse and you’re wiping at your lips with your fingers.

law pulls you into his lap again, clutching at your biceps until you follow his wordless request.

“it’s not me,” he murmurs, kissing you once you’re seated. “it’s you.”

his kiss travels to your jaw, open-mouthed. “you make me like this and i couldn’t even tell you why.”

he peppers wet kisses down to your neck, burying his face there as you move to give him more access. you’re so pliant in his grip again, your body just melting into him as he mouthes at your collarbone. he could do this forever. just gripping you wherever he can, tasting wherever you allow him to.

“you’re one to talk,” your voice is barely above a whisper, just wistful interest, “i can’t stop thinking about you. it’s like you’re haunting me.”

he chuckles into your perfumed skin, your words resonating strongly. he does feel haunted by you. your laugh, your wittiness, your body. he’s so ready to take this further. to undress you. to pleasure you in every way he can.

but his phone rings. you groan in annoyance. so he ignores it, deciding it’s much more worth his time to slip the strap of your tank top off your shoulder with his teeth. he likes the way it makes you shiver.

he urges you closer to him with his hand on the small of your back, plastering you to him. his lips dip lower, kissing the top of your breast as you sigh.

“mmm,” you hum, your fingers curling in his t shirt when he bites the tender fat of your chest.

but just as he’s about to venture lower, like he so badly wants, his phone rings again.

“jesus,” he grits out, fishing his phone out of his back pocket.

“don’t answer it,” you complain, all soppy and pitiful and his dick hardens just a bit again.

“it’s the hospital,” he says, knowing he has to answer since they called twice.

“hello.” it’s shachi. one of law’s high risk patients is having some post surgery complications and he has to go in. he’s disappointed to say the least.

“i gotta go,” he says, forehead pressed to your sternum to avoid the look he knows you’re wearing.

“i thought you were off today,” you say, whiny again and he really doesn’t know why your petulance turns him on so much.

“i’m on call.” you pull back to make eye contact with him and you look kind of angry. he physically has to remove you from his lap to keep from kissing you again. so he tosses you onto the seat next to him as you continue to glare in his direction.

“i’m going to scream,” you say, and law laughs. “i’m being serious. if we get interrupted one more time i’m gonna purposely get hit by a car because maybe we’ll finally fuck if i’m in a hospital bed.”

“that’s not funny,” he stands, shaking his head as he tucks himself back into his pants. you attempt to kick at his leg, but he catches your ankle before it makes contact, his hand bunching up the fabric of your cartoon pajama pants.

“are these men’s pants?” his brow furrows because he just noticed them.

“yes,” you yank your ankle back to no avail since law’s grip is strong.

“your ex’s?”

“ew no,” you yank your leg again, “i got them from walmart because they looked comfy.”

he drops your leg and it lands heavily on your couch as he moves to zip up his jeans.

“oh my god, are you jealous?” the delight in your tone doesn’t go over his head, instead it grates over his ears shockingly loud.

“no,” he lies because he honestly doesn’t understand why he even feels this way. he’s getting far too attached to you too quickly.

“oh you so are and if i wasn’t so sexually frustrated i’d totally give you shit for it.” you’re propped up on your elbows, grinning from ear to ear at him. well, at least you’re just as crazy as he is.

“i’m leaving,” he tosses a throw pillow at you and it bounces off your head. your laugh muffled by it, all maniacal and endearing.

“have fun at work,” you taunt, wiggling your fingers goodbye at him as he makes it to your front door.

“have fun alone,” he teases back, knowing exactly what condition he’s leaving you in.

“i’ll try,” you pout, staring at him through your lashes. “but my vibrator doesn’t compare to your mouth.”

he rolls his eyes, but a smirk tugs at his lips anyway. “next time.”

“no, next time you’re fucking me or else i might actually die.”

[dragon-susceptible]

To be fair I think a lot of us are mysterious and menacing without the ability to put a cut at the very beginning, but still.

That's a fair point, Skor did finally leave when he mentioned Amaya.

Yeah, I think it's dev-canon so to speak that Terry's done a magical transition already and so his body type would be what we expect from an amab Earthblood. But I counter, we've kind of only seen Earthblood men except for in background shots - Terry, Warlon (the Drake rider), N'than, and Mukho (mushroom mage) are the only named Earthblood we have. Also, you're right about Janai! She's easily six feet tall! However, we see the trend more with ensemble shots of her soldiers and Sunfire citizens, the men tend to stand taller than the women, which honestly makes Karim being The Short One of the royal siblings even funnier. Though I guess Idk if he was actually shorter than Khessa. Janai also doesn't dwarf her soldiers nearly as much as she should, so I think Sunfire elves in general tend to be Quite Large people by human or Moonshadow standards (nudging in my headcanon about Ethari's mom being Sunfire because of this)

To be fair, Gren uses his cuteness for diplomacy! Not getting away with lying to people's faces!

Fuck Yeah I can't read/write that phrase without hearing Leslie Odom anymore lmfao

I mean to be as fair as possible to them, Katolis is literally the closest human country possible to the Xadian border, but they really travelled across half the Xadian side of the continent in two weeks?? Press x to doubt, Moonshadow mounts just fuck with reality I guess.

Ram, growing up in a household that had Problems but mature enough parents to always address those problems in a relatively healthy manner: You All need help.

Runaan definitely would have argued that the fault was partially his, and that she shouldn't be killed for it, but they already would have made the decision without him because of course he's saying that, she's his family. They probably would have lost some faith in him as a leader, but gone through with killing her, if someone else hadn't brought up that same opinion (and Callisto's concerns about needing all of them to get the mission done).

Corvus is honestly such a fascinating character in the early seasons, and I was . . . kind of a bit disappointed with the choice to have him join the Crownguard. He got so much tamer after that. I don't want Corvus to be tame. I want to see him being an unhinged trapper who's somehow employed by Amaya Personally, not the army, for who knows what reason, who's only 20 years old and looks like he's been on the front lines for 10 years despite having NEVER KILLED A PERSON BEFORE. There's clearly something very wrong with this man.

And that's exactly what Ram wants them to think.

It will definitely be interesting, yeah. She'll be the same sort of simplistic "ah, they brought back my baby, I think I can manage peace with this new generation" as in canon, but the assassins will be having . . . complex reactions to her because of the implications of the mission she sent them on. Also I think it's in the description of the fic on Ao3 lmao, Harrow is in the bird. I'm just tagging for his death anyways because the themes of dealing with grieving him are pretty strong.

Yeah the whole thing's just . . . really complicated. And it makes sense how Rayla will be able to forgive them pretty readily, because okay, they didn't have a choice about leaving her, and they didn't actually run away - but Runaan and Ethari might have a harder time, because for them it wasn't about Tiadrin and Lain's leaving. It was how they handled the years after they left. Ruthari were supposed to be temporary guardians, but at some point it had to become clear that the egg wasn't going to hatch any time soon. I have to imagine the dragons knew when Zym was actually due to hatch, so surely they would have shared this information with the Dragonguard. So essentially they dropped their kid off at their friends' house "for a few months" and then never came back, never had the courtesy to inform them the arrangement would be permanent/until she grew up actually. I can see how it would be hard, from their side, to give up on the idea of coming home to their little girl, but I can also see how it would be rough on the "temporary" guardians to become permanent without notice.

I mean if we go back far enough Aaravos' choices are the reason the show happened in the first place, but Harrow's mistakes definitely drive the breaking point we see in the show lol

gods it might. oh no. Corvus. Buddy. Please. Don't make this harder.

The statement that Ram has two younger siblings that his dad doesn't know about yet had me wheezing irl and I don't know why, I literally had to get up and walk away laughing for a minute before coming back. But also it's three. Rayla counts. Though yes, there's only two that Lyrennus doesn't know about, he knows about Rayla.

Different Path Taken Ch19 P1: Runaan and Skor's Discussion

I'm not as happy with this section as I have been with some of the other tough ones, and I haven't quite isolated what the problem is. It might end up going through some bigger edits? I don't know, I kinda wanna just be done with it, since while it feels clumsy, it did go over what I wanted it to do.

Skor wasn’t far away when Runaan found him.  He didn’t even need to track prints through the snow, as the other swordsman was sitting on an outcropping of rock within sight of the cave entrance, eyes fixed on the human village below.  Runaan made sure to crunch a bit of snow on his approach, and saw Skor glance at him, so he wasn’t startled when Runaan sat down on the rock beside him. 

“How stable are you?” Runaan asked softly, without looking directly at him, just looking out of the corner of his eye.

Skor sighed through his nose. “He’s coming with us, isn’t he.”

“I asked first.”

“That’s a yes.” Skor rubbed his forehead tiredly, and when Runaan looked a little closer, he winced internally at the exhausted lines around his eyes and the tight pupils.  He wasn’t panicked anymore, but this was taking a toll on him. 

Runaan sighed, not bothering to contradict him, and cast his own eyes down to the village.  He spared a moment to hope Rayla - and those he had sent with her - were doing well, and the humans had found some help for the egg. “It seems the most viable option going forward.”

“We can’t trust him.” Skor growled. “You know better than anyone, Runaan.  Humans can’t be trusted and that one works for her.”

Runaan tilted his head at him. “And what makes the princes so different?”

Skor pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head. “Nothin’.  Small children don’t have higher morals, they have needs and people who fill them, and human children grow up slower than ours in that way.  Right now, that’s us, so of course Ezran wants to help.  It might even work for a few years.  But once he goes home, is surrounded by adults that hate us the way they do for enough years?  I doubt it will last.  Callum is old enough t’ have his own values, but he won’t be the one on the throne that could actually harm us.”

Runaan frowned a bit and looked back down to the village, where he had sent them, entrusting the future of the world to the boys Skor now spoke of with such skepticism. “I don’t think either of them are young enough to be in that state of mind,” He said carefully. “While it’s true that human children mature . . . slower, Ezran should be around the same mindset as Rayla was when I took her in.  She was more than capable of this kind of planning and reason - as you well know.”

Skor shook his head. “Does it matter?  We’ll do this, and it’ll be a reprieve for a few years, if it works.  It’ll save our home from Zubeia, at least.  I don’t doubt their intentions now.  I just . . . don’t trust them to keep them.  Especially back in Katolis once it’s over, with her counsel.”

“Perhaps,” Runaan conceded, reluctantly, after a moment. “But while she is vicious to us, she is a general in a war.  We have never been given a reason to believe she would turn on her own people, and these are her own nephews.  I do not believe she would give Corvus orders that would lead to their harm.”

“Like your friends would never have abandoned their posts or their daughter?” Skor asked, and the words struck Runaan so close to the heart that he couldn’t even process the tone that they came with.  He flinched involuntarily.

He didn’t grit his teeth, but it was a near thing, and he groaned softly into his hands as he rubbed the stress lines from his own face. “That was different.”

“Yes, it was,” Skor growled. “We knew them better than we know her.  What makes ye think we can trust her more than we trusted them?”

Runaan growled right back at him. “I am not saying we should trust him, and certainly not her.  Even if she would turn on her nephews, the tracker may not be willing to harm them.  He knows he can’t fight us.  We keep him with us, keep him close, to keep an eye on him.  If he stays true to his word, he may be an asset.”

“And when he doesn’t?”

“We put him to sleep, and drop him as far off our trail as we can, and leave.” Runaan said, meeting his burning golden eyes again. “If he continues to chase after that, you and Ram may deal with him as viciously as you choose.”

Skor held his gaze for a long minute, searching, before finally giving a huff and looking back down at the village, his shoulders dropping in concession.

Runaan kept looking at his profile, and sighed again, softly.  He placed a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder, and Skor leaned away from it for a moment before settling, pushing back against the weight of it instead. “I know how difficult this is.” He said. “Believe me, I understand what I am asking of you.”

Skor shook his head. “It’s what’s best for the mission.” He replied, voice brittle. “What it does to us is secondary.” He looked over at Runaan through his hair and acknowledged, softer, “I lost my voice, but you lost four lives to her.  That’s far worse.”

Closing his eyes at the memory of the elves he had been forced to abandon inside the caves, Runaan took a deep, even breath, and shook his head. “I will not quantify suffering.” He said after a moment. “You lost a life, too, in a way.  The life you should have had.”

The thought hung in the air between them for a moment, both well aware that if things had turned out differently - if Skor had not lost his voice, and his pride had not been killed under Runaan’s command - he would likely have retired several years ago.  He would not be in Katolis at all.

“I’ve made my peace with that.” Skor said softly. “Have you?”

Runaan blinked at him. “Have I made my peace with what?”

Skor glanced at him through his hair. “Losin’ the life you should have had.”

“What are you . . .” the question died in Runaan’s throat as Skor tilted his head towards the village below, the implication from before pressing in like blades around his ears.  He laid them back a little defensively.

“You set all your plans aside for two elves who’ve gone on t’ betray you.” Skor pointed out softly. 

Runaan rubbed the marks across his nose, closing his eyes against the darkness pressing in from his sides. “You know as well as I do the Dragonguard had no choice in leaving,” He said slowly. “What was I supposed to do?  I had been a part of Rayla’s life since she was born.  Was I to leave her with someone else?”

“That’s not what I mean.” Skor said, tilting his head to look at Runaan around the hair that fell over his face. “That was seven years ago, an’ she’s only fifteen.  They didn’t have a choice about leavin’?  They left t’ protect her?  They threw her life away along with the rest of us when they ran.  Saved their own skins instead.”

“Skor-”

“We’ve all a right t’ be angry with them for that,” Skor pressed. “But even before that, Rayla’s only fifteen.  She’ll remember more of her life with you than with them.  She’s practically grown, and they did what, sent letters?  That’s not parenting, and you know it.  They dropped that on you, an’ never let ye take the title ye deserve for the responsibility ye took, too selfish to let her have a family they weren’t a part of.”

Runaan flinched, hand dropping from Skor’s shoulder and covering his own face as he grimaced. “That doesn’t - Skor, I can’t deal with this right now,” He said desperately. “She is their daughter, she is the one who suffers the most from what they’ve done.  Her feelings on the matter come first.”

“That’s my point.” Skor shifted his weight onto his opposite hip to turn a little more towards Runaan, arching his brows pointedly. “You’re the only adult in her life that always puts her first, except Ethari, and honestly, my friend, I’m not as sure as you are that he’d choose her over you.”

He would.  Runaan was more than confident of that.  He grimaced at the very thought of making him choose, though, and shook his head.

“I’m not sayin’ ye should talk to Rayla about it.” Skor said. “It’s not her job tae take care of you.  But I knew them, too.  Ye do have other friends, not all of us willin’ to fuck you over for seven years and end it with a stab in the back.”

Runaan flinched again and snapped. “Alright, yes, I am angry!  I am confused, and frustrated.  I do not understand what changed, I trusted - I loved them as my brother and sister, and I can’t - I don’t understand why they would betray us like this.  But I cannot deal with this right now.  I must do what I can to minimize the damage from what they’ve done, to Rayla and to our people’s reputation in the eyes of the dragons.”

“You’ve been cleanin’ up after those two your whole life.” Skor observed softly.

Runaan grimaced. “That will no longer be an issue after this, will it?” He said bitterly, and then narrowed his eyes at Skor. “And you are deflecting.”

Skor wrinkled his nose at him and lifted his lip to show one chipped fang in halfhearted spite. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Runaan showed his own fangs right back, heart aching at the memory of when that fang had been chipped, but appeased when Skor’s mouth closed again under his show of dominance. “I will not force you,” He said anyway, a little wry after Skor had done exactly that to him. “But know that I am here if you need it.  I know, better than anyone, why this is difficult for you, and I share your concerns.”

“It’s what’s best for the mission.” Skor repeated reluctantly, and groaned softly as he leaned back on his hands, raising his face to the sun’s heat and closing his eyes against its light. “Runaan, if he says anythin’ else about that woman’s honor -”

“I will not restrict his right to speak,” Runaan said, but shrugged when Skor scowled. “But I will not restrict yours, either.  If he offends you, respond as you wish, just - verbally.  We don’t resort to violence until he does.”

Skor’s eyes remained shut but he nodded slowly. “Fine.”

He would not have returned to the field, and Runaan would not have allowed him to stay there, if he weren’t capable of stabilizing even under circumstances that brought up plagues from his past.  Runaan accepted this answer and looked back down to the village below.  He took note of a small group of people - four - one smaller than the other three - leaving the well-trodden path towards where he and Skor sat up on the slope. “The children are returning.”

“Then we should do the same.” Skor said, sounding far calmer than he had when Runaan first approached him, at least, and nodded with eyes open when Runaan looked at him again.  They both stood up and dusted the bits of snow off of themselves, and took a few breaths to clear their minds after the discussion they’d had.  Skor returned to the cave, ducking inside with only a glance at Runaan.  Runaan remained by the entrance, waiting for the children to return.

For all they weren’t all his children, he couldn’t help his growing concern for the human boys, and he had known Ram since he was quite young as well.  They were all his responsibility.

He shoved Skor’s words from earlier out of his mind.  Rayla’s needs came first.  He knew what he had to do about his friends’ betrayal, and processing his reaction to it could come later, when he had less on his plate and could justify devoting precious energy to doing so.

[diamondcoded]

The problem is, I know that the only opportunity I will find in life -after this job- is being a student. but it's truly the second worst thing that could ever happen to me.

[sskk-manifesto]

--

[theheadlessgroom]

https://www.tumblr.com/beatingheart-bride/723418524401434624/beatingheart-bride-theheadlessgroom

@beatingheart-bride

“WHAT?!”

The outburst was uncharacteristic of Nicholas as the de Clair’s knew him (only knowing him as a good-natured, genteel man who never raised his voice at anyone or anything), but didn’t at all surprise Dorian (though the incredulous scream that left the brute’s throat did make him jump ever so briefly); he expected the outcry, the confusion, the anger. He was exactly as Dorian imagined him to be, and that was enough to make him squeeze his glass, hating to lay eyes on the man who, at one point in time, murdered his best friend and his wife in cold blood.

Clearly, Nicholas realized his mistake, and quickly worked to correct it, clearing his throat before saying in a gentler, sweeter tone, “My apologies, Mr. and Mrs. de Clair, for raising my voice, it’s just...well, this is...this is such a shock to me, I-I mean, I love Emily, I love your daughter, and I was looking so forward to beginning our new life together! I-I mean, don’t I get a say in all of this?”

No, you don’t! Dorian thought to himself, as he gently wrapped his arm around Emily’s waist out of a desire to comfort her: He was sure coming face-to-face with her murderer again was frightening, and he wanted to make sure he was there for her. If Pennyworth, God forbid, lost his temper and got aggressive (he doubted it, but it was a thought that crossed his mind, considering what Emily told him about what happened), Dorian would protect her with his life.

[sceletaflores]

slippin' and slidin' all over you!

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, sweating, mutual masturbation, sweat licking (i don't know???), not-so-dry humping, p in v, JUST THE TIP RAHHH, creampie, fingering (fem!recieving), oral sex (fem!receiving), come swapping, come eating, literally over four thousand words of pure nasty smut, this is gross lowkey, idk i'm h*rny, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: very much not the winner or even an option of the poll i posted last week but...shhh don't hate me. it’s october and over 80 every single day, what the fuck is that? only good thing that came from this heat is thoughts of nasty sweaty sex with logan. once again shoutout to my wonderful husband @ebodebo for reading this over for me (i successfully changed her vendetta against sucking up some man sweat...which was the real point of this fic tbh) go give her fics some love if you're a slut for ghost! kisses!

logan forgot to fix the ac...

It's too hot out to be alive. 36°C and sunny.

One of the hottest days in recent memory for Alberta, and you're really feeling it.

"Remind me," you say slowly, the first words spoken in almost ten minutes. "How many times did I ask you to fix the air conditioner?"

"Don't start," Logan says from his spot across the room. His head is tipped back to rest on the couch cushion, eyes slipped shut.

You ignore him, lazily rolling your head to the side to look at him through squinted eyes, your brows furrowed in thought. "Was it ten? Or maybe thirteen?"

Logan huffs a breath, slow and heavy, but he doesn't move--doesn't even open his eyes. “I said don’t start,” he mutters again, though there’s the faintest edge of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Don't worry baby," you say, voice pitched lower in a terrible impersonation of Logan. "I'll get to it, promise. Won’t get too hot for another couple months."

Logan finally cracks an eye open, just enough to give you a sideways glance, his mouth twitching with amusement. "You done?"

You hum noncommittally, the sound lingering in the air like the lazy summer breeze doing nothing to cool the temperature outside. Your gaze slips down the side of his face to trace the jut of his jaw, then lower to the sweaty column of his neck. 

Both you and Logan lost most of your clothes earlier in the day, too hot to bother wearing anything but underwear. You trudged around the house like zombies until you finally gave up on trying to be productive, you both ended up in the living room. 

All the windows are cracked open, trying in vain to let in any cool air. You claimed the armchair closest to the fan, refusing to be anywhere near Logan and the massive heat wave he constantly gives off.

Logan’s on the couch, stripped down to the thinnest pair of sleep shorts you’ve ever seen. His chest is bare, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat that mats the dark hair dusted along his pecs to his skin. 

You can’t help the way your eyes follow the drops of moisture that slide slowly down the contours of his abs. A low heat starting to swirl through your gut when it disappears into his happy trail.

It's funny. When you basically peeled yourself off your mattress this morning, sex was the absolute last thing on your mind.

Now, as your eyes glide over the strong expanse of Logan's body on full display, you're having second thoughts.

Maybe it just comes with the heat. That sort of slow, syrupy feeling that slides along your overheated skin to pulse pleasantly between your thighs.

A bead of sweat slides down the length of your spine slowly, falling until it soaks into the damp waistband of your panties. You try to not notice how Logan is halfway across the room, not touching you.

You fail.

“It’s just a shame, though,” you start, fingers idly toying with the hem of your tank top. “If it was cooler, I could come over there.”

You slide a leg up, letting it rest against the wooden rest, newly exposed skin gleaming under the sunlight filtering in. 

The move isn't lost on Logan. You see his jaw clench slightly, the tiniest shift in his posture.

"Something you wanted?" Logan asks, his voice going low and teasing. "Looks like you've been gettin' yourself all worked up over there."

“Just thinking,” you reply, shifting slightly on the sticky leather of the chair.

Logan’s fingers twitch at his sides, his chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. His eyes slide the rest of the way open, his gaze heavy and lingering as it ventures down to where your thin shirt sticks to your skin, outlining every curve.

“Oh yeah?” he prompts, his voice a little rougher now. “Thinkin’ about what, baby?”

“You,” you say easily, fingers slipping down to your thigh. You bring your other leg up, perching it against the opposite armrest. Your thighs spread wide enough that you know Logan has a full view of the wet spot growing along the gusset of your panties.

The hitch in Logan’s breath has you stifling a smug smile, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch the way his chest starts rising faster.

"That's real sweet, sugar," he drawls, an unimpressed look on his face as he drags his eyes back up to your own. "But if you're tryin' to get me over there, you're gonna have to do better than that." His voice slides through the air heavy and warm like molasses.

You bite back a grin, enjoying the slow game that's unfolding between the two of you. 

"Maybe I don’t want you to come over here," you let your fingers trail a little lower, just to the edge of your panties, teasing. “Maybe I like you right where you are.”

Logan’s brow raises, his thighs tensing before he spreads them just a touch wider. The fabric of his boxers goes taut over the strong muscle, riding up to expose even more hairy skin to your greedy eyes.

"You're playin' with fire, kid," he warns.

The tent in his shorts is obvious now, the hard length of his cock pressing against the fabric where it lays across his thigh. Your other hand twitches by your side at just the sight, your pussy throbbing with the sudden need to be filled.

"Am I?" you murmur, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, just enough to make sure he knows exactly where this is headed. ”It’s not like you’re going to do anything about it, you’re too busy pouting."

With a deliberate slowness, you slide your fingers lower, brushing against your clit with just enough pressure to let out a soft gasp at the contact. You arch your back slightly, relishing in the way the air feels against your skin, hot and sticky.

You want him to see how badly you need him—how his heat is the only thing that could truly satisfy the insatiable ache building between your legs.

Logan's nostrils flare, jaw tightening and eyes darkening at the sight of you teasing yourself. His restraint is slipping, and you can practically feel the tension building in the room, thick and stifling like the oppressive summer heat. 

But he still doesn’t move, doesn’t rush over like you expect him to. Instead, he shifts his hips slightly, spreading his legs wider and letting his hand fall on his thigh. 

You can’t help the way your breath quickens at the sight, the way his fingers drift dangerously close to his own growing bulge, teasing you just as much as you’re teasing him. 

You tilt your head to the side, gazing at him through your lashes. “You're really just gonna leave me hanging?” you goad, fingers circling lazily around your sensitive clit. “Come on stud, whip it out.”

Logan chuckles low, a sound that sends shivers through you. "Is that what you want, baby?" he asks, voice thick and taunting, a smirk curling on his lips. “You want me to whip it out for you?”

“Yeah,” you murmur breathlessly, biting your lip as you maintain eye contact, your breath starting to come in short bursts. “I need to see you, Logan. Need to see how hard you are for me.”

“Need to, huh,” he muses slowly, fingers finally grazing over the hard length of his cock. “What’s in it for me?”

“How about this?” You slip your hand out from your ruined panties, fingers glistening with your own wetness as you hook your thumbs on either side and drag them down your legs.

You let the soaked cotton fall to the floor, leaving you completely exposed to him.

Logan’s pupils dilate, an inky black completely swallowing the warm hazel. He licks his lips slowly, the tip of his tongue running along his teeth like he wants to sink them into you. His cock twitches visibly beneath his shorts, the growing tension in the air between you thick enough to choke on.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, his voice low and gravelly, more of a growl than a word.

You smile, shifting in the chair to give him an even better view, your legs spreading wider. "Yeah?" you purr, running your fingers over your slick inner thigh, feeling the heat radiating from your own skin. “You like what you see?”

Logan swallows hard, his hand finally slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts, palming his cock as he watches you. “You know I do,” he says, voice rougher than before. 

You let your hand trail back down to your clit, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles as you hold his gaze. “Then show me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice almost a plea now. "I wanna see you."

Logan lets out a low, rumbling groan, his fingers making quick work of shoving his shorts down enough to free his cock. It springs free to slap lewdly against his stomach and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips at the sight.

He strokes himself slowly to start, his eyes locked on you, watching your every reaction, feeding off the way your chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths.

"Like this?" he asks, his tone taunting as he strokes himself from base to tip, his thumb swiping over the head with a low hiss. “That what you wanted?”

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, straining and in his hand. The sight of his thumb brushing over the tip of his cock sends a hot, electric pulse through your body, your hand between your legs moving in time with his slow strokes.

"Yeah," you whisper, voice trembling with need. "Just like that."

You slip your hand lower, sliding two fingers inside yourself with a low moan. Logan groans like he’s the one being touched, his hand speeds up, eyes glued to where your fingers disappear in your slick heat.

His cock leaks pre-come over his knuckles each time his fist passes over the dripping head, the wet sound of it mixing with the low hum of the fan and your own breathy sighs.

"You look so fuckin' good like this honey," Logan groans, his voice rough, strained. "All spread out, playing with that pretty pussy for me."

You whimper at his words, your body aching for more than just your own touch. You need him, need the feel of his rough hands on your skin, his mouth, his cock—anything.

Your fingers move faster, slipping deeper inside with each pump, but it’s still not enough. The stretch is nothing compared to taking Logan, to the feeling of him carving a place for his thick cock inside your pussy, hitting that spot inside you that your fingers can’t quite reach.

Your hips buck up towards your hand, your back arching off the chair as your free hand clutches the armrest tightly.

Logan’s pace quickens, his fist pumping his cock with a new urgency, heavy balls bouncing with every rough tug.

“God, look at you, such a needy fuckin’ thing” he growls, chest heaving as his gaze flicks between your flushed face and the glistening mess you’re making of yourself like he can’t decide where to look. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

"Please," you whine, desperation creeping into your voice. Too keyed up to draw this out any longer. “I need you inside me, Logan. I can’t take it anymore.”

Logan groans, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. His hand falters slightly on his cock, squeezing hard around the base as your words push him dangerously close to the edge. His jaw clenches, eyes raking over you, and with a growl, he stands. 

The last threads of his restraint snapping.

 He crosses the room in two long strides, towering over you where you sit. His cock swollen and hard, sways between his legs with every step, glistening with pre-come that drips to the floor. His eyes, hooded and burning, drink you in as he reaches down, yanking your hand away from your slick heat.

“Thought you said it was too hot to move,” you tease breathlessly, unable to quit egging him on even when your legs start to tremble with need, spreading wider to welcome him.

Logan ignores you, tugging your hand to his lips. Your breath catches in your chest, a weak moan escaping you as he takes your soaked fingers in his mouth. His tongue swirling along your skin to taste you, his eyes never leaving yours as he does.

“Changed my mind,” he growls, strong hands rough and possessive as they drop your wrist and haul you out of the chair so he can spin around, collapsing into it with you in his lap. The wood gives a warning creak beneath you but neither of you care.

Not when his mouth is on yours, hot and demanding as he slides his tongue past the seam of your lips. The heat radiating off his body is suffocating, but you welcome it—craving the weight of him on you.

You melt against him, feeling the hard planes of his body against yours, every inch of him alive and pulsating with need. Logan’s hands find their way to your hips, fingers digging in just enough to send a rush coursing through you.

It’s intoxicating, the way he devours you, his hands exploring every inch of your back, grasping and pulling you impossibly closer. 

The hard jut of his cock presses against your thigh, a thick plane of heat that makes your pussy throb with need. You shift your hips, grinding down on him in messy circles.

“You feel that?” he growls, lips brushing against your ear. “That’s all for you, darlin’.”

“Need you,” you whimper, grinding down against him faster, desperate for the friction that sends pleasure rippling through you. “Please, Logan, I need you inside me now.”

“Hold on, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, sending sparks all up your spine.

He dips his head, capturing your lips again, while his hands roam hungrily down your sides, fingers curling around your thighs to urge your legs open wider. “You wanna tease me, you’re gonna have to get off just like this.”

Logan angles his hips so that his cock slips between your drenched folds the next time you roll your own down.

The hot, slick glide sends electric shocks of pleasure racing through you, your body responding instinctively to his touch. You gasp against his lips, fingers tangling in his hair as you push down, desperate for more.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he growls, his voice dripping with lust as he watches your movements with hungry eyes. “Just for me, huh? She’s droolin’ just for me.”

You nod breathlessly, chasing the friction, craving the feel of him so close. You lift your hips and rock back down again, the blunt head of his cock brushing against your swollen clit, and you feel your body pulse in response. 

“More,” you plead, leaning in to nibble at his lower lip. “I need it.”

Logan pulls away, shaking his head with a wicked grin. “Come on, tough shot,” he says, giving your ass a quick smack and kneading the tender flesh in his hand roughly. “You’re gonna come like this, you can do it baby.”

You whine, dropping your chin to your chest. Your hands find his shoulders, nails digging crescent moons into the strong muscle. Your chest slips slickly against his, the front of your tank almost entirely soaked with sweat.

Yours or his, it doesn't matter. The white cotton turned transparent enough that your breasts are on full display, nipples hard and visible.

You watch a single bead of sweat make its way down the length of his throat. It trickles down and down and down until it dips between the pronounced muscles of his chest.

You duck your head, dragging your tongue up the valley of his pecs. A deep moan bursts from your lips, pussy drooling more slick over Logan’s cock at the coarse feel of his thick hair on your tongue, at the heady taste of his sweat filling your senses.

Logan groans, hands tightening their hold on your waist. The dull ache his strength leaves behind is enough to let you know that two hand shaped bruises will be blooming over your skin by tomorrow morning. 

“Come on, girly,” he encourages, nipping at the sweaty column of your throat, the sharp points of his teeth scraping along the sensitive skin deliciously. “Fuck me, give it to me good.”

Your hips speed up, his hard cock sliding through the slick folds of your cunt faster. The tip bumps against your clit deliciously with every move, smearing pre-come along the way to add even more to the mess between your legs.

“Gonna fuckin’ fill you up,” he groans, breath puffing warm and hot agasint the slick skin of your lips. “Pump you so full of my come you’ll be leakin’ for a goddamn week.”

He shifts underneath you, the tip of his cock catching on your entrance just enough for it to push inside on the next grind of your hips.

The barely there fullness has you coming with a sharp cry, nails roughly dragging down Logan’s back hard enough to leave red welts that heal as you go.

The pain mixing with the pleasure of finally getting to feel the warm, wet suction of your pussy has Logan coming with a rough shout of your name. He throws his head back, hands tightening their grip on your hips enough to have your bones grinding together as he pumps you full of his come. 

“Logan…” you mewl, your pussy fluttering over the tip of his cock, greedy little clenches like you're trying to suck him the rest of the way in. Drunk on the way his release paints your insides, how you can feel each thick spray coating your walls to claim you in the rawest way.

Logan pulls back just far enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and smoldering as he watches you squirm in his lap.

"You’re not tapping out on me already, are you?" he teases, his voice rough and gravelly. "I thought you were tougher than that."

A weak, breathy laugh escapes you, but it’s cut short when he applies just a little more pressure, making your thighs quiver. "Not tapping out," you manage between shallow breaths, your head falling back against the chair. "But you’re—fuck—you’re insatiable."

Logan smirks, leaning in to nip at the sensitive skin of your throat, his teeth scraping just enough to send shivers coursing through you.

"When it comes to you, baby?" he murmurs against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over your pulse point. "Fuckin’ always."

A lazily smile takes over your lips as you tighten your core and push, the rest of Logan’s come leaking out over his fingers. Logan groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder to try and ground himself.

His cock throbs where it sways heavily between his thighs, still hard and ready to go even after he just came. His hand slips down your body, thick fingers running through the creamy mess of come and slick to messily push it back inside you.

“Fuckin’ shit, honey,” he groans lowly, pressing his thumb to your clit. “You’re gonna kill me.” 

Before you can respond, he stands again, gently placing your trembling form back into the chair and dropping to his knees in front of you.

Your breath hitches, legs widening despite the way your pussy shakes with overstimulation, like you can’t help but spread your legs for Logan anytime he wants.

Logan smirks up at you from between your legs, his lips already ghosting over the inside of your thigh. "Look at you," he growls, voice low and filled with lust. "Still so needy."

The slick heat of his tongue runs along your folds, lapping at the mess he just made of you. You let out a sharp gasp, thighs trembling as your fingers weave into his hair, tugging him closer.

The sensation is overwhelming—the rough, demanding pace of his tongue as it swirls around your clit, teasing you, while his hands grip your thighs with bruising force. Keeping you exactly where he wants you, keeping you spread open for his tongue.

Your body arches off the chair with a loud cry, every nerve alight with raw pleasure as he feasts on you, his growls vibrating against your sensitive skin.

"Fuck! Logan," you moan breathlessly, head falling back as you try to keep up with the sensations he's pulling from you.

The heat that was pooling low in your belly reignites, stoked by the way his tongue flicks faster against your clit, each stroke sending you higher.

Logan doesn’t let up, his tongue delving deeper, drinking in every moan, every shaky gasp as he drives you closer to the edge. He moans into your pussy, his own arousal clear in the way his hips buck into the air, seeking any kind of friction.

You tug on his hair harder, desperate for more, for release. "Logan, please," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper, thick with need.

"Atta’ girl," he rasps, his voice thick with desire as he watches your face contort with pleasure. "So fuckin’ pretty like this. You gonna give me another one, baby? Gonna come for me again?"

Every lick, every rough squeeze to your thighs, every teasing stroke sends you spiraling closer to that edge you’re dying to reach again. You can feel the heat radiating off him, his breath hot against your soaked skin and driving you wild.

“Logan, I—” You gasp, fingers tightening in his hair, urging him closer, closer, closer. “I’m so close—”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, nose and jaw glistening in your juices.

"Give it to me," he growls, the rough rasp of his voice sending a shiver through your overheated body. "I wanna feel you come on my tongue."

It’s all the encouragement you need. With a strangled cry, your body tenses, thighs quaking as the orgasm crashes over you.

Logan keeps his mouth on you, tongue working you through every pulse, drawing it out until you’re trembling and gasping, your body boneless in the chair.

When you finally come down, panting and spent, Logan pulls away. With one last kiss pressed over your clit, he makes his way up your body, not dropping eye contact as he settles over you.

His hand comes up to your face, thumbs meanly hooking into either side of your cheeks to gently force your mouth open. You part your lips willingly, the heat still radiating between you, a mix of lingering pleasure.

Logan leans in, and the intoxicating scent of sweat and sex surrounds you as he spits what he collected from between your legs back into your own mouth. 

Your cheeks burn with shame, a broken moan ringing through the space between you. Your glassy eyes stare into Logan’s, his own gaze so intense and all consuming you fight the urge to squirm.

"Swallow," he commands, unwavering. 

You hesitate for just a moment, caught off guard by the pure audacity, but the way his eyes darken with hunger makes your resolve crumble. With a breathless whimper, you obey, tasting the remnants of your own pleasure mingling with his, the act both humiliating and intensely arousing.

Logan watches you closely, his gaze never straying as you swallow, a dirty smirk creeping onto his lips. “That's my girl,” he praises, his tone thick with satisfaction.

As the taste lingers on your tongue, you can feel the weight of Logan’s stare like a physical touch.

“Think you can handle another round?” he teases, his voice low and sultry. “I don’t plan on letting you off that easy, kid. Not with all that mouthing off earlier.”

You catch your breath, shaking your head in exasperation. “You’re relentless,” you whisper, a hint of laughter in your voice, though your body betrays you, already craving more.

“Only for you, baby” he replies, brushing the strands of hair plastered to your sweaty forehead behind your ear. “Only for you.”

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini nat's note: i started my period today chickens...that explains it...

[pennyellee]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡?

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡? | 𝐌𝐘𝐆 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐔 (𝐌) pairings: producer!min yoongi x popgirlie f!reader genre: romance, smut, slight porn with plot, friends to lovers au word count: 6K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 (ily)

prompt: "There is just no way you two did not fuck each other's brains out." summary: "You Big Enough?" - when an old flame resurfaced, rumours spiralled, and suddenly, every lingering glance and every touch between you seemed to carry weight. It had always been just music, just friendship—hadn’t it? No. You always had the vibe of  'will they, won't they.' This has become bigger than the music. Tension crackled, boundaries blurred, and there was this thing that Yoongi made sure you knew well besides that he was big enough. "They just talk. I fucking deliver."

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, explicit language, themes of subtle (and not-so-subtle) possessiveness, teasing, sexual activity, rough sex, fingering (f receiving), miscommunication driving emotional conflict, dirty talk, raw fucking (stay safe!) choking and spanking as part of intimate scenes, creampie, fleeting nipple play, very subtle dominance/submission dynamics, implied size kink ... (as per usual, I'll add some if needed)

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, sexual activity, sex without protection, choking and spanking as part of intimate scenes.

a/n: yall, I had this idea like a month ago and I wrote the initial part but lowkey forgot that it's in my drafts so I finished it yesterday (might come later to edit, pls excuse me im working overtime these days) and amazing and spectacular @chaoticpuff17 managed to read it so you can have it as a lil Valentine's day treat. So here is something simple, smutty, and cute for ya. Happy Valentine to all of you who celebrate, love you my little fairies! ♥

masterlist

Your hands hovered above the keys and your brain could not figure out what to press to make it sound as magical as you want. Your mind searched for the perfect melody for the bridge of her latest song—

"Try F-sharp minor," Yoongi suggested, his voice low and even. The studio is a second home for you. Always have been and dear Min Yoongi was as much a refuge as the soundproof walls and softly humming equipment.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"Perfect—" There was a warmth in his gaze, one that lingered a second too long.

"How do you always know, Yoongi-ah?"

"It's my job," he said simply, but the corners of his mouth quirked up. Your heart fluttered with a familiar yet unwelcome sensation. But you quickly shook it off, focusing on the music in front of her.

"I'm lucky to have you, then," you murmured.

Yoongi didn't respond immediately, and when he did, his voice was quieter than before.

"I'd say I'm the lucky one."

Before you could process what he meant, your phone buzzed, breaking the spell. You picked it up, seeing a message from your lifelong bestie, Jimin-ah.

Emergency. Coming over.

You frown but you are happy to not indulge in something you don't have the answers to. "Jimin-ah is on his way. Guess I'll have to call it a night."

Yoongi's expression was unreadable, but he nodded, knowing that it must be something important if you’re packing your stuff so quickly. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"You need to fucking hear this," he says, her voice brimming with urgency when he bursts into the apartment like a whirlwind, his dark glossy hair bouncing as he flops onto the couch.

"You remember Seo Kang-joon?"

You hand him a glass of red wine and sit across from him.

"What now? Did he suddenly reappear after he ghosted me?"

Jimin winces.

"Actually, yeah. And I finally found out why he did so."

Your stomach drops. You liked that man when you went out, but the message you left a good amount of time ago went unanswered for an even longer period of time.

"Why?"

He hesitates, his eyes darting around the room. Finally, he leans forward, lowering his voice. "Everyone thinks you and Yoongi are… you know."

You blink.

"What?" you say, playing dumb.

"You knooowww…—

"—that."

He said through gritted teeth, trying to make you understand, but your brain was not cooperating.

"No, I dooooon't know that" You mimicked him, and he only stared dead serious at your stupidity.

"They think you've been doing it," he says bluntly. "Apparently, it's some open secret in the industry. Like, 'Oh, Y/N and Yoongi? Of course, they're a thing.'"

Your jaw drops. No way. No fucking way.

"That's insane. We're not… we're not like that."

"You sure about that buttercup?" Jimin raises an eyebrow and you merely nod.

"Cuz', he's not exactly denying it. And honestly, can you blame people for assuming? You've written two albums together, spent countless hours locked in the studio, and the way he looks at you…" he trails off, shaking his head.

"There is just no way you two did not fuck each other's brains out."

Your cheeks burn.

"That's ridiculous. Yoongi and I are friends. Just friends."

"Hmm, I don't know hun,—"

He was right. You weren't buying it. Not entirely.

But you weren't ready to admit that out loud—not yet, anyway. Your mind races. You replay every moment you've spent together, every lingering glance and fleeting touch.

Yoongi and you?

It was absurd, wasn't it?

Right?

Jimin watched you carefully, his perfectly shaped brows raised in amusement. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

"No," you scoffed, but your voice lacked conviction.

Jimin smirked, leaning back against the couch. "Look, babe, I wouldn't bring this up if I didn't think it was something you should actually think about. People don't just make this kind of shit up for no reason."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "I just—why wouldn't he deny it?"

"That's what you need to figure out." Jimin gave you a pointed look. "You trust him, don't you?"

You hesitated. That was the problem, wasn't it? You trusted Yoongi more than anyone. He had been your anchor in the storm, your safe space when everything else felt uncertain.

But this—this was different.

The way he looked at you.

The way he always knew exactly what you needed.

You replayed every moment with Yoongi in your mind, combing through the memories with a fine-toothed scepticism, looking for anything—anything—that could have fed these rumours. The way he watched you while you worked in the dance studio, the quiet way he always made sure you had water before long sessions, the casual intimacy in the way he touched you—light, fleeting, like a habit neither of you had ever questioned.

Had you been blind this whole time?

Jimin's voice snapped you back to reality.

"Look, I think you need to talk to him. Like, actually talk to him."

You swallowed hard.

Talking to Min Yoongi had never been difficult before. But this? This felt dangerous.

The next evening, you stepped into the dimly lit studio, and the question sat on the tip of your tongue like a loaded gun.

Yoongi was already there, as always. The warm amber glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows across his sharp features, catching on the soft strands of dark hair that fell over his eyes. His fingers rested idly on the soundboard, a picture of quiet focus—until he looked up at you.

His gaze, steady and unreadable, held you captive.

"You're late," he murmured, but there was no accusation in his tone—just that familiar, quiet warmth.

You swallowed. "Got caught up with Jimin last night, forgot to set a reminder."

At that, something flickered across his face—too quick to name, gone before you could hold onto it. "Ah."

Silence stretched between you, thick with something you weren't ready to name. But you hadn't come here to tiptoe around things anymore.

So you stepped forward, pressing a hand against the cool surface of the mixing console, grounding yourself, only now taking his appearance in.

"I played with the structure a little last night after you went home and—" he broke the silence first, but you knew he sensed the sudden awkwardness in your posture, your whole being.

"Is something the matter, sleepyhead?"

"Nope, nothing at all."

You quickly retorted, trying to look anywhere else but his gorgeous face.

Yoongi's eyes, however, never wavered. They held a depth that made it impossible for you to escape his gaze. You had always known how intense he could be, but now, in the stillness of the studio, it felt almost intimate, the air thick with unspoken words that seemed to pulse around you like a melody begging to be heard.

He leaned forward slightly, his hands resting casually on the desk, but his posture was all focus—intent, almost as if he was waiting for you to unravel yourself.

"Are you sure about that?" His voice was lower now, a gentle challenge. He was pulling at the thread, testing the tension between you.

Your stomach twisted. This was the moment, wasn't it?

"I'm fine, Yoongi, just had a lot of wine last night," you said again, but your voice betrayed you. It cracked, ever so slightly, and you couldn't mask the uncertainty in it.

The silence between you thickened, and it felt like the space in the room had shrunk, until it was just you, him, and the suffocating pressure of the question you both knew was lingering.

He didn't look away, not even when you avoided his gaze, staring down at the soundboard like it could offer you some kind of escape. He moved to the electronic piano while lifting a brow at you.

"So as I said, I played with the structure—"

You watched him, leaning at the piano, his fingers poised just above the keys, waiting for him to break the silence again, to give you something more. But you didn't want more from him—not in the way you wanted it. Not yet.

Instead, you played a dangerous game, one of subtle manipulation, testing him, probing for the truth behind his unreadable expressions.

"You remember Seo Kang-joon, right?" You interrupt him, raising your voice just a little.

The name hung in the air between you, deliberately chosen, carefully placed like a baited hook.

Yoongi's fingers stilled for the briefest of moments. But it was enough. Just enough for you to notice. His posture shifted ever so slightly, his shoulders stiffening imperceptibly.

You bit back a smile, inwardly satisfied at his subtle reaction.

"I bumped into him yesterday on my way home. He... he actually asked me out on a date again. Said he lost his phone and had to get a new phone number, didn't remember mine."

A lie.

The words left your mouth so easily, like a lie you had rehearsed in front of the mirror, and yet your heart pounded with anticipation. You weren't expecting much. Just a flicker of jealousy, a crack in the calm façade he always wore. So your interrogation of his, perhaps, hidden feelings isn't unprovoked.

Yoongi didn't immediately respond. His fingers finally touched the keys, the faintest chord ringing through the room, but his eyes remained fixed on the piano.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the soft melody playing between you, the rhythm of his fingers meeting the ivories almost too steady.

And then, finally, he spoke. His voice was low, flat. "Is that so?"

Your breath caught. That was it?

You frowned, staring at him from across the room, searching for a reaction. Anything. But his expression was as controlled as ever. His calm demeanour was unshakable.

No way.

You leaned forward, the pressure of the lie beginning to claw at your insides. "Yeah, he asked me. He was actually pretty... persistent about it. He was sorry I thought he ghosted me." You let the words hang, trailing off deliberately, watching his reaction closely.

But Yoongi only nodded, his eyes focused on the keys.

"I see."

A small flame of frustration ignited in your chest. Was he really this indifferent? Was he truly going to let this lie slide without a hint of a reaction?

You stood up abruptly, unable to hold the pretense any longer. You could feel your temper rising, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

"You fucking see?!" Yoongi's fingers paused mid-chord as the tension in your voice snapped through the room. You busted out your feelings. Well, this was doomed from the start.

You stepped forward, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and something else—something raw that you hadn't been prepared to face. "You don't even care, do you? You don't care that everyone is saying we're fucking, that they think we're—" You cut yourself off, almost choking on the words. You couldn't bear to say them aloud, but you needed to know, needed to push him.

His gaze met yours, and in that instant, you knew he hadn't been indifferent. He'd been waiting. Waiting for you to unravel yourself, for you to show your cards. His eyes, dark and unreadable, pinned you in place.

"Is that what you wanted to hear?" His voice was cold now, controlled, with an edge that made your skin prickle. The air in the room thickened, turning heavy with the weight of his words.

"Well, perchance?!—" You gesture rapidly.

"You run around not denying it Yoongi,—?!"

The calm, controlled exterior he wore was unravelling, and you weren't sure if you liked the version of him that was emerging—or if it terrified you.

He stood up, slowly, deliberately. The sudden motion caused a cold shiver to run down your spine. He didn't step towards you, but the space between you both seemed to shrink in the way he carried himself—every step deliberate, every movement measured.

"Why do you care so much?" His voice was low, almost detached, but there was a certain sharpness to it now. It was the tone he used when he was dangerously close to losing control, but for now, he still kept it in check. "What's so important about what they think?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words tangled in your throat. You had been so sure of your reasoning—so certain of the way you wanted him to react—but now that he was giving you exactly what you wanted, you realized just how hollow that satisfaction felt.

"I dunno Yoongi—maybe because men ghosted me—maybe because you just might be the reason I had a dry season— or maybe you're that kind of motherfucker—"

Yoongi let out a sharp breath, a dry laugh escaping him as he shook his head. You elevated this to a different level now. "A motherfucker?" He repeated his tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement. "That's what we're doing now?"

You were too far gone to stop. The frustration, the pent-up emotions, the sheer nerve of him sitting there, all unbothered while you spiralled—it cracked something open inside you.

"Yes, Yoongi! A motherfucker! What else do you call a guy who lets rumours fly like this and doesn't even care?" Your hands gestured wildly as your voice grew more frantic.

"You don't deny it, you don't address it, you just exist in this limbo, letting people think we're screwing while I sit here looking like a desperate idiot who cannot get a hold of her man—"

His jaw clenched, his patience visibly wearing thin. "So what if I don't deny it?" He stepped closer, voice a fraction lower now, dangerously quiet. "What if I don't care what they think? What if I like the way it sounds?"

Your breath hitched.

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. Your entire argument, the whole reason you'd brought this up, suddenly felt shaky, flimsy, like a house of cards collapsing under the weight of his words.

Yoongi watched you, his eyes dark and unreadable, waiting for you to process what he had just admitted.

Finally, your voice came out in a whisper, hoarse and unsure.

"The fuck, Yoongi?"

"I don't deny it," he said again, slower this time. His head tilted slightly, studying you. "Because it's not entirely wrong."

A rush of heat flooded through you—anger, shock, confusion, something else, something deeper and more dangerous. "Not… entirely… wrong?" You echoed, blinking at him. "Are you—are you actually fucking insane?"

Yoongi exhaled sharply, like he was just as frustrated as you were, like you were the one being difficult. "Y/N—"

"No," you cut him off, pointing a finger at him. "No, you don't get to just drop that and act like it's nothing."

"I'm not acting like it's nothing," he countered, his voice still calm, still infuriatingly composed. "You wanted to know why I never denied it? That's why."

"You can't be fucking serious right now, you fuck—" his body in your proximity startled you, but you let him pin you to the wall next to the mixing desk.

His hands caged you in, palms pressing against the wall on either side of your head. You felt the sharp inhale of his breath, the slow exhale, the tension buzzing between you like a live wire.

"You don't get it, do you?" His voice was quiet but razor-edged, his eyes dark and unwavering. "You've been running in circles trying to make me jealous, trying to get a reaction—" his gaze flicked down to your lips for just a second before meeting your eyes again, "pushing me like you want me to snap."

You listened. For once.

"You sat in that fucking booth with only your panties under that big shirt—"

"My fucking shirt—"

"My fucking shirt," he repeated, voice rough. "And you think I wouldn't become possessive? Think I didn't see the way you stretched in it, how you leaned in close, pretending like you didn't know exactly what you were doing?"

Your breath hitched. You did not realize he saw you this way.

You swallowed, trying to find solid ground beneath the sudden energy shift, but Yoongi wasn't giving you the chance.

"You wanted me to react?" His eyes burned into yours. "You wanted this?"

The heat between you became unbearable.

"I—" You started, but you had no words.

Because now, finally, Yoongi wasn't holding back.

And neither were you.

Your pulse hammered in your throat as his words sank in, wrapping around your ribs, tightening like a snare. You had been waiting—aching—for a reaction, pushing buttons you hadn't even fully understood yourself. But now? Now, Yoongi was looking at you like he had already decided.

His breath was warm against your cheek, the space between you non-existent.

"Say it," he murmured.

You licked your lips, the movement not lost on him. "Say what?"

Yoongi let out a short, dark chuckle. "That you like it. That you like this—the way I look at you, the way I see you."

Your stomach flipped.

"You're so full of shit," you whispered, but there was no weight behind it but pure provocation.

His fingers twitched against the wall before he exhaled sharply and leaned in, just enough for your breaths to tangle.

"And you'll be full of me."

"You big enough?" 

Oh, that did it.

A sharp, involuntary gasp left his lips and your body betrayed you before your mind could catch up. The air between you turned electric, charged with something too dangerous to name.

Yoongi's gaze darkened, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as if savouring the way your breath hitched when he looked at you that way. He bit down his lower lip before he spoke again, laying his palms on the flat surface of the table in front of the piano that lay on it–

"There are two possibilities happening between us—" He tilted his head slightly, gaze never wavering from yours, his voice a low rasp against your skin.

"One—we make this official,—" He said it like it was inevitable, like it was a fact written in stone. "No more rumours, no more bullshit. No one else but us. Just you and me."

Your breath stuttered, your heart slamming against your ribs.

"And the second?" you whispered, barely able to form the words.

Yoongi smirked, slow and sinful, his fingers twitching against the wall before he leaned in, his mouth a breath away from yours.

"I keep writing my songs, keep filling my verses with filth about how I would fuck you good and hard—until you finally beg me to bury my cock in your cunt."

“And people will hear you’re mine—”

Your entire body went hot. Yoongi's smirk widened, watching the way your breath stuttered, your pupils blown wide. He tilted his head, gaze flicking down to your parted lips, his voice dropping even lower. Your thighs clenched a traitorous reaction that made his smirk turn predatory.

"You—"

"That's the difference between them and me, baby." His fingers ghosted over your waist, light enough to make you shiver. "They just talk. I fucking deliver."

You swallowed hard, your pulse thrumming so violently it was a wonder you were still standing.

"You're so—"

"What?" Yoongi pressed in closer, his nose brushing against yours. "Say it."

You had no idea what you were going to say.

But when his fingers finally curled around your hip, pulling you flush against him, the words you should say, the ones that would stop this before it went too far—before you gave in—died in your throat.

"Fucking thought so." He smirked again. That smirk. That fucking smirk.

It did something to you, something dangerous, something you weren't sure you could control. It made you want to wipe it off his face—maybe with a slap, maybe with your mouth.

Yoongi knew it, too.

He leaned in just a fraction closer, his breath hot against your cheek, his grip tightening on your hip as if daring you to push him away.

You didn't.

"See?" His voice was silk and smoke, smooth but lethal. "You love this. You love the way I get under your skin. The way I make you feel."

Your nails dug into your palms. "You don't know shit about what I feel."

Yoongi chuckled, low and rough. "Don't I?"

His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down your side, stopping just shy of indecency but still making you shudder.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured. "Tell me you don't want this, and I will."

It was the worst thing he could've said. Because the truth—the one you refused to admit even to yourself—was that you didn't want him to stop. Ever. You were so fucking needy to be touched after you got to know that your dried spell had a sorcerer and it was him. So technically now, he should be the one breaking it. And he knew it.

Your silence was all the confirmation he needed to press his lips against your neck.

His hands were suddenly everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your thighs, spreading you open like he had every right to.

"You think I'm going to let you run your mouth, push me to the edge, and not do something about it?" His voice was a rasp, thick with hunger. "You think I don't see how badly you want this?"

Your breath hitched as his thigh pressed between yours, the friction making your knees buckle. His mouth found your jaw, teeth scraping over sensitive skin before he kissed a path down your throat, sucking, biting, claiming.

You barely had time to think before he gripped your wrist, guiding your hand down—down—until your fingers brushed against him, hard and thick beneath his sweats. The sound that tore from his throat was pure sin.

"Feel that?" Yoongi growled, grinding against your palm. "That's what you do to me. That's what you fucking cause each time we're in this studio."

Your fingers flexed, a teasing squeeze that had his breath stuttering. He cursed under his breath, tilting your chin up with his free hand, forcing you to meet his gaze.

Dark. Devouring. Desperate.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured again, a cruel echo of earlier. But this time, there was no space between you, no restraint.

And you didn't.

Instead, you yanked his mouth to yours. Yoongi groaned into the kiss, the sound reverberating through you as his hands pushed under your shirt, fingers trailing over bare skin, leaving fire in their wake.

Your nails raked down his back as he lifted you effortlessly, pressing you harder against the wall.

His hips rolled, slow and devastating, and a moan ripped from your throat, shameless, wrecked.

"That's it, baby" he rasped, his forehead against yours, breath heavy. "That's the sound I've been waiting for."

His hand dipped lower, slipping past the band of your shorts, finding you soaked for him. Yoongi cursed, his fingers teasing, circling, before sliding through the wetness with devastating precision.

"Fuck," he groaned, voice hoarse. "You're already so fucking ready for me."

You didn't even get a chance to respond before he pushed a finger inside, then another, stretching you, filling you, working you open until you were trembling against him.

"Yoongi—"

"I know," he hushed you, his lips brushing against your ear, his fingers moving faster, deeper. "I've got you, baby. Just take it."

And fuck, you did. You took everything he gave, your body writhing against his as pleasure built sharp and unbearable, spiralling higher, tightening—

"Come for me," he ordered, his voice dark, commanding. "Come on my fingers like the desperate little thing I know you are."

And when he curled his fingers just right, his thumb pressing where you needed it most—

You shattered.

Completely. Utterly.

Yoongi swallowed your cry with his mouth, dragging it out, his hand still moving, still milking every last bit of pleasure from you until you were shaking in his arms.

Then, as you barely caught your breath, his voice came again, low and teasing.

"Now," he murmured, undoing the string of his sweats, letting them fall.

"I'll fuck you hard that you'll forget about those smutty books you're reading—"

Your body barely had time to recover before Yoongi was pressing closer, his fingers sliding away, leaving you aching and empty. But then—then—his hands were on your hips, tugging your shorts down, peeling them away with agonizing slowness, like he wanted you to feel every second of it.

Your breath stuttered as he stepped back just enough to look at you, his dark gaze trailing over your bare, trembling form.

"Fucking perfect," he muttered, almost to himself, before his hands gripped your thighs and lifted you, forcing your legs around his waist.

The weight of him, the sheer heat of him, pressed right against your core, had you gasping, fingers digging into his shoulders. Yoongi groaned low in his throat, rolling his hips just enough for you to feel all of him, hard and thick and ready.

"Ain’t big enough, huh?" he murmured, dragging his clothed crotch against your soaked heat. His voice was rough, strained. "I’ll show you how big I am."

Your nails bit into his skin, your body writhing against him as he kept teasing, kept torturing you with slow, precise movements. The friction had you panting, your forehead falling against his.

"Stop teasing," you managed, barely above a breath.

Yoongi chuckled, dark and knowing. "Look at you. So desperate for me already." His fingers gripped your jaw, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. "Tell me how much you want it."

You let out a sound between a whimper and a growl, rolling your hips against him in a silent plea. But that wasn't enough for him. Your heart racing, you felt his warm palm connect with your skin, a stinging sensation spreading through your buttocks as he spanked you. You let out a small yelp, but Yoongi didn't relent, his hand rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

"Say it." His voice was like gravel, low and demanding. "Say you want me to fuck you, Y/N. Say you need me." He pulled down his sweats enough so his cock sprang free from the confinement.

Your pride clashed with your need, the battle waging for only a moment before he rolled his hips again, pressing the thick head of his cock right against your entrance—and your resolve snapped.

"Fuck—I need you," you gasped, your fingers twisting into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan. "Please, Yoongi—just fuck me."

Something broke in him then.

With a guttural sound, he aligned himself and pushed inside, the stretch of him stealing the air from your lungs. He didn't stop, didn't hesitate—just drove forward, sinking deep until he was fully sheathed inside you until there was no space between you, nothing left but the overwhelming, consuming feel of him.

"Fuck," Yoongi gritted out, his forehead dropping to yours. His hands flexed against your thighs like he was trying to hold himself back, to give you a moment. "So fucking tight."

You could barely breathe, barely think, pleasure and pain and something deeper rolling through you in waves. But then he shifted, just slightly, and—

"Oh fuck," you gasped, your head falling back against the wall.

Yoongi's grip tightened, his breath hot against your skin. "Yeah?" He rolled his hips again, slow and deliberate, dragging himself out before thrusting back in, harder this time. Your moan was wrecked, broken—exactly what he wanted.

"Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me," he murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your throat, across your collarbone. "Taking me so fucking well."

Then he moved. Snapping his hips as hard as he could to make your back rub against the wall, to make your head spin from the bouncing on his thick cock that made you see so many constellations. Up and down, up and down. He felt so good inside you, filling you completely as his hips slammed against yours.

The force of his thrust made you cry out, your fingers tangled in his dark raven hair, which you so openly adored when he kept longer. His mouth crashed down on yours, swallowing your moans as he drove into you with a fierce intensity, each stroke building on the last.

His hand cupped your breast and his thumb brushed over your nipple. The touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the fierce way he was driving into you. Your back arched, pushing your breast further into his hand, and you felt his fingers close around it, squeezing softly. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and you moaned loudly, the sound lost in the kiss that still claimed your mouth. Yoongi's hips kept moving, each thrust building on the last, and his hand on your breast seemed to be pulling you closer to some unseen edge. His fingers tightened around your nipple, rolling it between them, and you felt yourself teetering on the brink of something explosive.

Yoongi groaned, his grip almost bruising now, his thrusts turning erratic. "You gonna come for me again?" he rasped, his hips thrusting into you harder, each one was met with your breath hitching in your throat before you moaned. Loud.

"Gonna fall apart on my cock?"

It was too much—too good.

"I know what you want, love. What will make you cum around my cock."

Your body began to tense, your muscles coiling tighter and tighter as he spoke. "You want it rough," he growled, his thrusts becoming more savage, more primal.

"You want me to take you apart, piece by piece." His grip on your breast tightened, his fingers digging deep into your skin, and you felt yourself spiralling out of control.

His hand left your breast to envelope around your throat, his fingers wrapping tightly around your neck, his thumb pressing against the underside of your jaw. That was it. Your moans got even louder and he raised a brow. You felt a flutter in your chest as his grip tightened, his eyes burning with an intense hunger as he gazed into yours and he slowed down to observe your face that certainly did not hide any pleasure.

"Kinky," he rasped, his voice low and dirty. "So fucking kinky."

He held you in place, his grip on your throat tightening ever so slightly, he began to move his hips again, his cock stirring back to life inside you. His eyes burned with an intense desire, and you could feel the tension building in his body as he drove into you with slow, deliberate strokes.

"I'm going to fill you up, babe" he growled, his voice low and husky. "I'm going to make you take every last drop of me." And with that, he began to thrust into you harder again, faster again, his hips pounding against yours as he chased your release. You felt him swelling inside you, his cock growing thicker and hotter as he approached the edge.

Your orgasm crashed into you, and you could not even stop it. You wanted this to last until your body shuts down from all that pleasure he has given you. Your body locking up as pleasure burns through every nerve ending. You clenched around him, drawing a strangled moan from his lips, his hips snapping forward one last time before he broke. His release spilt deep inside you as he let out a low, guttural groan, his semen erupting into you in a hot, pulsing flood that warmed your walls. You felt him shudder and convulse above you, his body trembling with pleasure as he emptied himself into your waiting flesh

The sensation was overwhelming, the feeling of being filled and claimed by him almost too much to bear. His chest heaving with exertion and for a moment, neither of you moved.

"You're so fucking mine," he murmured, voice still thick with satisfaction. He lifted his head to meet your lips once more before he said.

"Don't you ever question my devotion for you—" he started, panting after the little stunt you just pulled. 

“—Or the size of my cock, doll.” 

You only smiled wickedly into his lips. 

“You like us role-playing, tho—“ you started. Yoongi's grip on your waist tightened, his lips brushing over your collarbone as his breath warmed your skin. His hand slid lower, fingers tracing the curve of your body possessively. 

"He could not stop talking about it the whole fucking night, babe."

"Who, Jimin?" he asked, his tone dripping with amusement, yet there was an underlying tension in it, like he was trying to keep himself in check to not turn you over and fuck you in the ass. Even though he had to thank Jimin for this fuck prompt he unknowingly gave you an idea of (such a mundane trope) and the final ride you two just had. The thanking will wait until whenever you decide you want Jimin to know about you two.

Of course, something similar happened at the start of your relationship and you could not help yourself to let him fuck you against that wall once again. This time with a similar scenario but slightly adjusted replicas.

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh, though it was edged with a hint of frustration. You shifted under his touch, your heart still racing from the intensity of the night.

"Yeah. Couldn't stop about how people talk about us fucking our brains out here—"

"But we are—" his voice thick with the weight of his meaning, but his tone now softer than before. His mouth pressed against the sensitive skin just below your ear, and his hands pulled you closer, if that was even possible, as if to remind you of just how much he could claim you again and again and again.

You gasped, your body reacting to him in ways you couldn't control, and you felt a rush of vulnerability, knowing how deeply he could read you. "Yoongi," you breathed, trying to keep your composure, but he wasn't making it easy.

"Yeah, you can say that again," Yoongi whispered, his lips brushing against your ear before his teeth grazed the lobe, making your entire body shudder.

You swallowed hard, your head spinning. "I'm serious," you managed to say, even though your voice came out shaky. "Jimin—he thinks I'm still under that dry spell cuz' everybody thinks we're doing it—"

"Let him yap, love."

"Yeah I would, but he went to a point where he talked about how I'm gonna need to buy that Tesla robot to fuck me cuz' no living man will, thanks to you and your not-so-subtle hints that we're doing it—"

"My not-so-subtle hints?" He chuckled.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, feeling a mixture of amusement and frustration. "I mean, he was kinda making some good points," you teased, pretending to think it over. "We do have that whole 'will they, won't they' vibe going on."

Yoongi's fingers paused against your skin for a moment, as if he were considering your words, but then a slow, mischievous smirk crept onto his lips.

"What do you think, babe?"

"I—I think," you stammered, feeling the weight of the moment sink in, "I think we could've been doing a better damn good job of hiding it. But maybe—" You hesitated, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

"Maybe it's time we stop pretending."

"Well, next time Jimin mentions our 'vibe,' I'm making him listen to a few of our 'studio sessions.'"

Your eyes widened in mock horror. "Yoongi!" You gave him a dramatic shiver, and he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you.

"Exactly," Yoongi said, smirking mischievously. "That'll shut him up real quick."

"Good luck," you teased, tapping his chest lightly. "Maybe he'll start talking about how lucky you are to have me in your corner."

"Lucky, huh?" he mused, pulling you in for a hug. "You're damn right I'm lucky."

You grinned, enjoying the easy banter, letting the tension slip away as you let him hold you. It wasn't about proving anything to anyone—it was just the two of you, sharing this moment, enjoying each other's company and, of course, having a little fun at Jimin's expense.

"Wait—" you just realised.

"You know about my smutty books?!"

He threw his head back and gave a loud throat laugh in response.

©pennyellee. please do not repost

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

lots of love, p.

[kameyyy]

#recs

this didn’t fit anymore lmao😭

try again

part 0.11. HERE TO STAY

“on the other side of the wall, she’s listening to her client with a smile on her face. she’s a professional; she’s been trained to multitask and take notes while still listening and providing feedback to her clients. right now, she’s clicking off a tab back to the one filled with bullet points on things her client has said. she always knows when he arrives. she hears the left door open, which she knows because it squeaks more than the one on the right. he always uses the left door (she thinks it has something to do with the fact that more people touch the handle of the right door on their way in) and his paces are always steady down the creaky hallway. her last sign that he's here is the chair he sits in every time, the one right next to the door into her rooms. the legs are the slightest bit uneven and the back of the chair will lightly tap against the wall as its way of letting her know of her welcome guest. she already has her queue of songs up. she’s always hated her thin walls until he started coming in. a lot has changed in her life since he's come back, hasn't it?"

content warnings: the big finale which isn't that dramatic! i'm sorry for my bad writing! y/n dad reveal! breaking news: her dad is an asshole! tad bit of violence, one mention of blood and also just cursing and abusive fathers </3

he insists on paying and she doesn’t argue with him about it for long; she’ll have countless more opportunities to steal the check from him, she hopes.

she feels better when she's finally eaten after a day of nervous nausea and time spent anxiously bouncing her knee. on top of that, she’d been with him for the majority of the day, distracting her from what had happened in the morning. he even listened to her issues, and she’s finally starting to believe the promise that he’s here to stay. 

they’ve just stepped off the train, and her apartment building is only a few minutes away. he walks alongside her the entire time, their arms brushing each other ever so often. whether it’s on purpose or not, neither of them will fess up.

he’s only distracted from his time spent mindlessly reaching his arm out just the slightest bit more to hit hers ever so often when he feels a buzz in his pocket. he slips out his phone quickly to check its screen:

akaashi’s a moment too late, because they’ve just made it up the stairs to her floor.

she’s already seen him, and he’s already seen her.

she wants to puke. 

he’s there, arguing with iwaizumi outside their door. his sunken eyes and gaunt face make her stomach twist with guilt, but a brush from omi’s knuckles reminds her where she is again. it’s not her job to take care of him. it never was, and it never will be.

"you," the man is pointing a finger towards her, stumbling forward and she immediately shrinks back like a shriveling flower, losing her confidence. omi's already standing in front of her without even thinking about it, putting a barrier between the two.

the old man keeps talking as if he can see right through him, though “you’re a disrespectful worthless piece of shit, you know that? can’t ever in your life put even a single person about yourself. here you are living with a bunch of boys. what are you, a whore? do you suck them off so they’ll keep the bad guys away? they’re doing a shit job at it. i’m standing here after, all, aren’t i?”

“it’s not like that,” her voice is quiet and weak, and she’s not even sure it makes it to the man’s ears.

“you can’t think about anyone else. you're too selfish. you won’t even answer your own father’s calls much less say anything to him at all–”

“i told you to back off!” her voice comes out loud this time, louder than she means for it to, “i’ve told you to back off so many times but you just don’t listen,” she steps out from behind omi, standing next to him instead while the man in front of them stops at the sound of her voice, “these are my roommates and my closest friends. i'm living with them because they genuinely care about me and aren't using me for any purpose, something you can't even dream about. the only reason you’re still standing here is that they have enough self-control and respect for me that they won't beat up the man i regrettably call my father.”

omi’s gaze slides over to hers, trying to see if she’ll meet his eyes. he’s simultaneously trying to communicate how proud of her he is and let her know that he'll support her no matter what happens. 

“take that back,” her father spits, starting to curl his fingers into a fist. she stays silent, and his face begins to flush an angry red. “you’re only proving my point. you’re just an ungreatful little girl who thinks she no longer has to care about anyone else because she's older. i took care of you your whole life and i will not have you ignoring me for the rest of my fucking life!” the smell of beer invades her senses as he steps closer.

“you did jackshit in my life! you never helped me with anything I asked you to. never bought me anything i needed, you've never cared about me. i’ve grown up and moved out. i can do whatever i damn please and i told you to leave me alone. maybe if you respected me i wouldn't ignore you, but that's impossible for you,” she retorts, standing her ground.

“don’t you fucking talk to me like that–” he nears her, only a few steps between them and she starts to feel the panic in her chest, “your stubbornness is the reason your mother left–”

“my stubbornness?” she can’t help but fight back. that’s what separates her from her past self. her younger self ran away, left home as soon as she could to live on her own, but now she’s grown into who she is today, and she won’t let him ruin that. “you treated your wife like shit and refused to change no matter how many times she screamed and argued with you right in front of me about how horrible you were. you've never fixed anything because you’re so stuck up and think you’re so high and mighty that she decided to pack up her bags and leave–”

“then why did she leave you behind too?” 

it’s like her heart stops beating for a second. her blood runs cold before her vision is a blur and the face of the man is crushed right in front of her, sending him to the ground groaning. his hand is covering his nose, preventing her from seeing how badly damaged it is, but she can’t find it in her to care.

“don’t blame her for your faults. grow up and take responsibility for your shit. she deserved better than either of you,” omi is talking down on the man now, and she looks up from her father’s body to the fist of the boy beside her, bruised and a little red.

he’s been by her side since day one, and maybe he disappeared for a section of it, but now he’s back. they're back together, and she stands proudly beside him, “she left me too, but i can’t be mad at her for being sick of you. or us. whatever it is, you’re both selfish and her absence nor yours is something i’m mourning over. i’m happy to have left you too and for the last time, i never want to see you again”

iwaizumi has joined them, standing above the man, no trace of sympathy in his eyes despite the blood that's streaking down her father's face. he tries to get up, only for iwaizumi to keep him down on the ground with a foot on his shoulder, “you heard her. don’t ever show your fucking face around here again. i’ll kill you the moment i lay eyes on you.” iwaizumi’s olive eyes move from the ground to meet hers, slightly softening when he sees her, “are you done with him? i’ll make sure he gets out of here and stays away for good.”

omi’s words from the diner rush back to her head, and she doesn’t feel so bad for relying on her friend. she believes he's willing to help her, and she won’t let her father’s words get to her head. she’s cared for others, unlike him, and developed relationships that she’s earned by giving out her own love. “yeah, i’m done,” her voice is quiet again as she keeps looking at her friend, searching his eyes for any sort of annoyance. but she can’t find any, and she smiles, walking towards him, wrapping her arms around him. “thank you, iwaizumi.”

he has an arm around her shoulders, his foot still resting on her father. “always,” he replies simply before she leaves him embrace, gesturing for omi to follow her. “i’m going to take care of his fist, now.”

iwaizumi only nods, turning his attention back to the man on the ground omi following his gaze as he passes by. iwaizumi will do more than a good enough job at keeping his word, he knows that, but he feels like he should have some part in taking care of the man whose plagued the girl in front of him for her entire life.

but she hasn’t asked him to take care of the man in front of her, and he knows its not his place. she knows she does not resent the man to the point that she wishes harm upon him, she simply wishes that he would leave her alone. and iwaizumi will make sure that wish is honored, and omi should be satisfied with the hit he landed on the man’s nose.

before her hand can even reach the knob of the door, it swings open and she’s pulled inside by the arms of a black-haired man who he recognizes to be akaashi. kita is standing beside him, a hand on [y/n]’s shoulder as they both check on her for any injuries or harm.

he hasn’t seen kita since his days in high school when he was the captain of inarizaki; atsumu told him he had moved out to the countryside but he must have come back after some time. he feels like a weight is lifted off his chest at the sight of her in the arms of his roomates, and he knows that she is cared for. that she has found her people, just like he told her earlier that night, and he hopes that she’s starting to accept his words as the truth.

he’s happy just watching her from afar, but she breaks apart from akaashi’s hug to gesture him in, and kita shuts the door behind him. “omi, this way,” she says with a smile on her face, beckoning him with a hand.

it’s the first time she’s called him by that old name since high school, and he thinks he’s falling even harder for her if that’s possible. she makes him sit on a stool in the kitchen while she searches her cabinets and a nearby closet for medical supplies. she’s begun to apply an ointment to his hand when he opens his mouth, “i can’t believe you think your roomates would ever leave you. look at how they all came to make sure you were okay. mine are one fight away from starting to vote people to kick out of the apartment nearly every week.”

she laughs at his comment, unwrapping a roll of bandages, “i’m sure no one would ever vote for you if that happened, but i guess you’re right, they’re pretty good, aren’t they?”

he nods, watching her face while she’s focused on his hand, “are you doing okay?”

she hums back in response, “yeah. the thing about my mom leaving me behind too kind of stung, but i don’t think life would’ve been any better with her, so it shouldn’t really hurt that bad. i’ll be okay. what you said at the diner really helped, you know. i feel like I can trust myself to say what i'm thinking rather than being scared i'm wrong or selfish. i can trust that it's not egotistical to believe my roomates don’t actually hate me. and that you don’t hate me. so i feel like i’ve finally escaped the weight of my dad’s words always crushing me and playing down anything i do.”

he reaches a hand up with his uninjured hand to wipe away tears from her face she didn't even realize were falling. and then he keeps his hand there, caressing the side of her face. “i don’t hate you, i never have. this entire time…how i feel about you is quite the opposite,” the words are slightly too intimate for him and as soon as they escape his mouth, it becomes hard to swallow and his face feels a little hot, but he doesn’t remove the hand from her cheek. he opts to say something more neutral next, “you did well, talking back down to him. i think you could’ve taken him down yourself.”

she chuckles at that, tying a knot to finish his bandage, “that’s what you think, but i’m sure i’d break my thumb or something. and if i have a hot man to defend me? i’m not lifting a finger.”

“you think i’m hot?” he says with a smile.

her cheeks grow warm under his hand, but she can’t look or move away from him, “i’m pretty sure thousands of people think so. it’s like a fact; newspapers can make money off of just having your face on the front page even if they barely mention you or don’t focus on sports at all.”

“well none of that matters,” he’s smiling softly now, and she’s still looking into his dark-colored eyes, hands holding his wrapped hand, “it just matters what you think.”

“what i think?” she repeats. and maybe it’s the adrenaline from the encounter they just had, or his boldness rubbing off on her in this current moment, but her next words come out clear and confident, “i think i love you, and i have for years. even when you left, i never stopped loving you.”

“i’m gonna make up for those years, you know,” he whispers back, pulling her by the sides to stand between his legs, bringing her closer. “i know i love you. i’d be a fool not to. and i loved you back then in high school too, even if i didn’t know it. i swear, losing you made me realize how much i took you for granted and everything became clear. letting you disappear was the worst mistake i ever made. i’ll make up for that lost time. make it up to you to the the point that you’re sick of me and you forget we were ever even separated for a time in our lives.”

“oh? and how are you gonna do that?” there’s a breathless feeling growing inside of her chest, where her heart beating fast with his confession and the way she's allowing him to pull her face close to this.

“starting with this,” his breath is hot against her lips before he closes the gap between them, and she’s kissing him back. she doesn't mourn or wish for the past, or for anything to change. he's come back and that's all that matters. she's happy with the word again. she likes it better than a phrase like "we fell in love at first sight." instead, she can say, "we met again. we fell in love again.

"we tried again."

it sounds like a story that reminds people endings aren't set in stone. she likes it.

.

.

.

“by the way, have you been playing songs for me in your lounge room when i’m waiting for you?”

“oh, you noticed?”

.

.

.

"the more you love your friends the more their features start to blur until all you remember is a pair of warm, welcoming eyes and laughter that feels like home."

prev. | m.list

extras <3

this is the end! thank you for reading try again <3

that last little quote is something i should've included like two chapters ago but it got lost in my gallery so here it is now <3

y/n's a good therapist i swear!!! she takes like one second to hit a play on a spotify playlist she's not playing games on her computer for entire sessions 😭

this is all i have tbh! i hope you enjoyed a little bit of this story <3 thank you so so much for being along on this ride w me!!

taglist: @eggyrocks @wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @strawberryuri @violetesensou @kakeru-eem @glmge @heytheredemonsss @mollyrolls @bemebiu @daszy @snail-squasher @0moonii @thiisisntlovely @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @iiwaijime @iatethemochi @yuminako @savemebrazilhinata @kismyscars @bokutoko @nobodybutnnoorr @wolffmaiden @daisy-room @softpia @lees-chaotic-brain @v3nusplanetofluv @crispchocolates @phoenix-eclipses @hhoneyhan @encrypta @rockleeisbaeeee @cr4yolaas @zombriesworld @localgaytrainwreck @moucheslove @hibernatinghamster @notverymarley @certaindreampost @akaakeis @ciderscape @lucien-luna @strawbrinkofdeath @wave2mia @samuel1004 @01trickster10 @dazqa @cosmiicdust @chemiru

[jenomi]

when you first started dating jeno, he would be really shy on facetimes/video calls with you. keeping the phone camera at an appropriate distance from his face and keeping things very demure.

but after months of dating and many many calls, jeno has gotten very comfortable. he would bring his face close to the camera and smile or do silly faces into the camera. it always makes you laugh and you would tease him for being annoying. but when he's abroad and he would bring the camera close to his face, it made you a little sad because it made you miss him more than ever.

when he's up close to the camera, you can see all the features of his face that you love the most. the mole next to his eye, the mole on his nose, the light in his eyes, his smile lines, his nose scrunches, his neck... the feeling of missing him so deeply would be so strong, that it would bring you to the verge of tears. you even cried on a call with him once, sobbing in between your words, "i just miss you."

a similar feeling was happening now.

"babe, back up from the camera, i can't do this right now" you say teasingly (but also seriously cuz you could cry right now).

"why~" jeno says bringing the camera even closer to his face.

you fall silent and decide to just appreciate his face up close like this. jeno smiles and chuckles lightly at your lack of an answer.

"i wish i could time travel so i can see you right now instead of in a week," you mumble and pout.

"maybe you should close your eyes for a second and pretend i'm there."

"no," you deadpan.

"come on, just for 30 seconds." jeno nags.

you roll your eyes and go along with jeno's antics. but suddenly, you hear a knock on your door which makes you jump.

"omg that scared me," you whisper, "someone's at my door."

"this late? keep me on the line," jeno says with concern.

you trod over to your door and look through the peephole on your door. your gasp is audible from your own phone as you quickly open the door to see your boyfriend standing on the other side of your door.

your jaw drops before you throw yourself at your boyfriend.

"wow my girlfriend can time travel" jeno smiles as you kiss all over the face you've been loving only thru a screen for weeks.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

a/n: i saw a compilation of up-close jeno that inspired this but i lost the video </3

[chuluoyi]

✎ treasure

- gojo satoru x reader

the strongest sorcerer meets his match in his petulant son, who inherits his six eyes and is having trouble with them

genre: taking care of your son with dad!gojo, fluff/comfort

note: AAAA i love this waaay too much!😭 this brilliant idea gave me baby fever so bad came from an anon who so energetically dropped by my askbox, thank you! and seeing this artwork by Yoon in twitter definitely gave me more ideas too!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

"No!"

"Why? This helps—"

"That's ugly! I don't want to look ugly—like you!"

Satoru blinked in utter disbelief, and you broke into the most satisfying fits of laughter. In front of him, standing tall and sullen and very much like him was his own son, now barely five years old.

Your boy mentioned that he had been experiencing discomfort in his eyes lately, which also caused him to become dizzy. And Satoru attempted to persuade him to use a blindfold like he did because it was effective.

However, as we can see, his son didn't take his suggestion well at all. His bright blue eyes, ones your husband passed down, bore an intense glare aimed squarely at him.

"I..." Satoru sputtered, his eyes twitching. The sight was comical as no one had ever managed to elicit such a reaction from him. And no one ever considered him an unattractive person too! "I'm not—"

"You are!"

Once again, you let out a triumphant cackle, and this time your husband shot you a glare. But you didn't care. All those years of tolerating his antics had paid off. His son had finally put him in his place!

When he was a baby, you thought your son was Gojo Satoru incarnate. He was the spitting image of him—with all gaits and expressions too. And you had worried if he would turn out to be just as much of a menace as he was.

But apparently, life has other sweet plans because like you, he was a relatively calm boy, diligent, and didn't like to make a fuss. Satoru argued that it was definitely in his genes—claiming he had also been a sweetheart when he was a child, but you couldn't quite imagine him being remotely as reserved as your son.

That aside, the cause of this hilarious exchange did actually make you worry a bit.

"Look, I know it probably looks odd," Satoru gestured at the blindfold in his hand, but your little boy still didn't seem convinced by the pout he displayed. "But it will help you, I promise. If only you would—"

Oh, but it was almost like karma because besides his appearance, the other trait your son inherited from your husband was his strong sense of winning.

His face reddened from sheer indignation, and he once again screamed, "I don't want to! I'll just cover my eyes with—" he took a nearby napkin and pulled them over his eyes, "—this!"

Satoru sighed in annoyance, and you decided to jump in. Crouching down next to him, you gently pried the napkin from his hand.

"Papa just wants to help you, okay?" you reasoned, cupping his plump cheeks. Gods, he used to be this round thing in your and Satoru's arms and now he was already this big. "He uses it everyday and he has no problems, see?"

"But it doesn't look good..." Your son drooped his head in disappointment, and you could feel Satoru rolling his eyes beside you, evidently miffed at the thought of him being less than good-looking.

Parenting is challenging, especially when your husband still holds onto some of his childlike tendencies. So you decided to end the discussion here.

It was later at noon, while you were in the kitchen preparing lunch when you heard your son's scream and something crashing. Your heart was in your throat as you rushed to the backyard, only to see something that made your heart lurch even more.

Your sweet boy was wailing on the ground, clutching his head, and Satoru—

His expression was as horrified as yours if not more, as he ran and caught your son in his arms, pressing him tightly against his chest as if shielding him from the sun altogether. "Shit. Hey, hey—buddy, you okay?”

Satoru lifted him up and carried him inside. You were right beside him as he settled on the sofa, gently hushing your son, who was still shaking and had his eyes covered against his chest.

"M-My head..." your son whimpered, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks. "...h-hurts..."

"It's okay, it's okay..." he murmured, caressing the child's hair in a soothing manner, and it reminded you so much of what he would do to you in the early mornings. "I've got you now, nothing’s going to happen to you. Hang on a little longer, yeah?"

You felt warm tears threatening to well up in your eyes at the sight. It was heart-wrenching to see your son in such torment, and the way your husband was consoling him deeply touched you. It served as a poignant reminder of just how many years had passed from when Gojo Satoru was still that brat who used to mess with you during high school.

Soon, your little boy's breathing became even, and he went to sleep in Satoru's comforting embrace.

You looked at him while biting your lip, undiluted worry in your voice. "What should we do? He's been experiencing pain often lately..."

Satoru really wanted to wipe that expression from your face, but with his precious child clinging onto him for dear life, even he didn't have the heart to.

"Don't worry, I'll be with him," he assured, a plan already forming in his mind. "If he hates blindfolds that much, then I'll get him some pairs of glasses just like the ones I have—for kids. We'll start with that."

Bearing the weight of his clan's revered eyes was a heavy burden, and honestly, he would prefer it if none of his children had to inherit them. After all, he went through it all too as a child—the manifestation of the six eyes' powers marks the beginning of life as a sorcerer. The perilous world he was still trying to keep away from his son.

Nonetheless, he would be there for him every step of the way. It was what he vowed to himself on the day he was born. He wouldn’t let anything befall him—or you.

You had calmed down after hearing his plan, and as you gazed at your precious boy’s innocent face in his protective grip and the gentle pats he gave him, you suddenly found yourself in a mischievous mood once again.

"Heh, quite the doting papa, aren't you, Satoru?" you winked, a teasing smile on your face. You could have sworn his cheeks slightly flushed as he retorted:

"Hmph. He is my personal little body warmer, after all."

[dyingswanpavlova]

Treasure

Pairing: Hwang In-ho/The Frontman × Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Smut, Age Gap (Reader is 25, In-ho is 54), Usage of Daddy, Mentions of Emotional Abuse in the Past, Low Self-Esteem, Sex as a Business Deal, Edging, Spanking, Overstimulation, Face Slapping, Oral Sex (Both receiving), Gagging, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Minors do not interact!

Author's note: It's mostly bad experiences and smut. Anyone who knows me, knows I can't do wholesome...But, you guys, I'm trying!

It has been quite a while since his wife died and he hasn't gotten over it. But now he found someone who brings out a softer side of him...or makes him feel anything at all. Even if it's just the fact that he doesn't have to dine and sleep alone.

The day of her death was always the worst.

Of course he was always cold. One might even muster up the courage to call it cruel.

He was a complicated man in any sense of the word. While he was as cunning as he was handsome, he was also cool and composed. He didn’t ever lose that tight composure, until he allowed himself to. There were only few situations that allowed him to let loose and unleash the beast that lived within him.

It was rather obvious that there was more to him. The way he carried himself made it seem like he was no more than the stoic business man, but sometimes, sometimes you caught a soft glimpse of whatever was underneath. The way his eyes shone in a certain light.

 His brother was enough.

His wife, of course.

 But you were clever. And your sense of self-preservation forbade you to pry. All you had to do was do your job. And what was your job?

You found yourself applying a drop of perfume to your neck and your wrists, staring at your form in the mirror. The black lace covered most of your intimate parts, but it was just enough to leave him yearning for more. He liked that especially – when he had to use his imagination.

But sometimes, on rare occasions like that night, he needed more. He needed a little, naughty dream, to distract him from the turmoil that raged within him.

He was never cruel to you. He was just cold.

It wasn’t like you minded. So far, you had heard all kinds of things from a few friends of yours. Men could be vile creatures, who performed the most heinous crimes, whenever they felt like it. You were sure you could call yourself lucky, when it came to that.

He was older, that was out of question. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Not for you anyway.

You couldn’t tell when that started or what the exact reason was.

Your father had been a fairly good man. He never abused you and never hurt you out of the ordinary. The occasional session of spanking was something that stopped once you got older. Of course a child that steps out of line will get punished. It’s not that dramatic and you were sure, you took no damage after that.

He had been a kind man. Good-hearted. He loved you, your sister and your mother very much.

Until he got drunk.

Of course, he loved you then as well. And he never hit you then, either. Not you.

Your mother, sure. The poor, sweet woman she was. Her broken spirit cracked through the light in which her soul was covered, because she was strong like that. Gentle, but strong.

He wasn’t gentle when he drank. No, all you had to do was say the wrong thing at the wrong time and suddenly he’d explode. The way he yelled out of nowhere was the worst thing. The way he gritted his teeth like a wild animal.

You had flinched more than once during the course of your life, simply because he got so angry.

But after a while, he always calmed down, didn’t he? He came down from his demonic horror trip and suddenly, he was good again.

Of course he was proud. Too proud for anyone’s good. His pride often kept him from apologizing. In most cases, he’d just try and act like nothing changed, like nothing happened, like he didn’t just made the walls crumble with his anger.

But sometimes, when he went really overboard, he managed to swallow his pride and then he would apologize. A hug, a kiss, and everything was back to normal.

You forgave him. Why wouldn’t you? He was your father. He loved you.

But daddy issues? No. He was there, after all. He didn’t abuse you. Didn’t hit you.

You had no issues. Why would you?

Right?

You finished applying the perfume and decided to put on some lip balm. It held the faintest hint of rose-color. He didn’t like too much make-up. He didn’t like anything that felt like you were playing dress-up. The silk on your body, it only made sense if it highlighted your character in a way. Not change it.

The gloss on your lips, the blush on your cheeks. No eyeshadow allowed, unless it were natural colors. Mascara was alright, but no fake lashes.

Blush was okay, contour was not.

Lace was okay, leather was not.

J’adore was okay, Chanel Number 5 was not.

You released a slow breath and took a moment longer to check your appearance.

You were pretty, you knew that. Probably not in the way that made you get voted prom queen. More in the way that made weird men ogle you.

That was a talent of yours you had figured out at some point. Your eyes were expressive. And people loved to eye-fuck you.

Sometimes, you’d indulge. It depended on the man and the situation. It depended on the way his eyes on you made you feel.

Not any man would do. Some were perverts, some were disgusting, some desperate. You didn’t look back, when a man walked beside his oblivious wife and looked at you like he was ready to devour you. You also didn’t look back, when a man stared at you with wide eyes and licked his lip in a way that was too lecherous at once.

A subtle glance.

Not even a smile.

Just a look.

You’d look away and after a while, you’d check again. The feeling that spread in your chest was often the same. One of recognition, of attention. It made you feel pretty and desired. Someone wanted you. They were subtle about it, but not subtle enough to refrain themselves from staring.

In most cases, it didn’t lead to anything.

Sure, you had that messed-up phase, after you turned nineteen. Looking back, you really wished your father had been stricter with you. You were always allowed to do whatever you wanted. Meet who you want, do what you want, unless, of course, it got dark outside. No walking alone in the dark.

But he never checked who you were with, if you were truly where you said you were. Your parents trusted you. Back in the day, when you told them you had already finished your homework, they trusted you. Your bad grades weren’t their fault. They had trusted you to do better.

Back when you were nineteen, when you told them you were at the cinema with a few friends, they trusted you. They didn’t check, if maybe you were getting pounded away by some forty-seven year old man, who came on your face and left you feeling used and humiliated.

Never during. Always after.

You had no idea why you felt like you needed this so badly. Attention of men. Approval of men.

Men.

They were never good to you. They used you in most cases and then they’d just up and leave.

First, you were naïve. You pictured all kinds of things. Your mother’s Italian friend, who’d take you to Rome and buy you gelato. You’d walk some coast and he’d show you the lovely way Italians lived. He’d love you, you were sure.

It didn’t matter than he had a daughter your age or maybe even a few years older.

He’d love you.

But of course, he didn’t. Silly you, you really believed that, didn’t you? And he didn’t even say he would. You just made up that version of him in your head.

Some sweet guy from Oregon, who sang Arctic Monkeys song for you with his guitar. You only spoke online, but why care? You’d go and live the American dream with him. Of course you would. He had those soft, brown eyes and the voice of an angel.

You’d give him as many babies as he wanted.

So, of course you agreed, when he asked you to take your top off. Suck on your fingers, look up at the camera with doe eyes, while you did. You slipped two fingers inside yourself, moaning and gasping. Of course you were pretending. Who got off on this? Not you. All he did was stare at you. You didn’t see his face, while he pulled his pants down. It was either his face or the rest of him. But you were looking at him, while you touched yourself for him. It didn’t take him long to cum. But that was alright. You’d get married, after all. In some cases, long distance worked. This was one of them of course.

Blocked.

You spent months trying to find him again. But no way. He was gone, deleted, lost in the depths of the internet. A lost memory. A shameful one.

Sometimes you asked yourself, why your sister turned out normal. She had a job, a family, a husband who loved her. Or did he?

He did get angry, at times. And those few times when he called her a slut, when they argued. It wasn’t that bad, right?

That one time he left her standing at the sidewalk in the middle of the night, in a foreign city. It wasn’t that bad, right? She had angered him after all.

You felt nauseous, just thinking about it. Your sister was the epitome of life and liveliness. She was so spirited, that sometimes her anger scared you. Her confidence did for sure. She was your father’s daughter after all.

But the bastard she married broke that spirit.

And she didn’t even realize it. She just let it happen. You didn’t understand it.

But what you did understand was that she wasn’t as perfect as you always thought. Things were a little more complicated than you initially thought. But you were still far behind her.

You tried to push the thoughts of your messed-up existence and upbringing aside and focus on the task at hand.

Him.

Mr. Important.

You knew his real name and he knew yours, but names didn’t really matter. All you normally called him was daddy.

But luckily, you weren’t babygirl or little girl. That felt odd, even to you. It wasn’t that he was after that – someone who was remarkably younger than him. You just happened to be.

He was fifty-four, going fifty-five. You were twenty-five, going twenty-six.

Thirty years more or less, who cared about that?

And he didn’t really look his age. You found, he looked a good forty-six, maybe.

But aside from that, he was different. The were two kind of men in the world.

The real ones and the made up ones.

The ones who ogled you, while they were walking beside their wives and the ones who never got over their wife’s death and were looking for a way to distract themselves.

You had seen a picture of her. He didn’t make a secret of it. No, he was proud to having loved her. The thought filled you with something bittersweet. A part of you was jealous. Jealous, that someone got loved so intensely, that she’d never be forgotten, ever.

After all, she died young and pregnant. It made you nauseous.

And another part of you, the far bigger part, the less selfish part, it admired him.

He loved her. He loved her so dearly, that she took a great part of his soul with him, when she left.

God, you wished to be loved like that. To be loved at all.

You remembered the way you first met him. The subtle eye-contact. No smile.

But you didn’t feel like you normally did. Something about him was different. He wasn’t lecherous. He was calm. Almost like he was…lonely.

And he understood your loneliness.

The arrangement came quick and without any fuss. He did pay you, but not with money per say. He paid for your studies, he bought you gifts, sometimes he took you out to places you had never been before.

The theatre. The ballet. The opera, even.

That was what you loved the most. He didn’t just use you and left you feeling empty. He didn’t even fuck you every time you saw him. Sometimes you’d just go out. Have dinner. Talk.

You talked a lot and about everything. Sometimes you felt like you were an old soul, sometimes you felt like you knew nothing at all. He knew things. He looked at you. He listened to you.

Sometimes he could be really funny. On other nights he was rather quiet.

You didn’t care if he absentmindedly played with your hand or hair or if he stared straight ahead. Whatever he did, it always made your heart race.

You understood that you were treading on very thin ice.

Feelings were not a part of the arrangement.

He would never love you. You would never be more to him than treasure.

But when you lay there, your head on his chest and still breathless after you just spent hours doing the most wicked things to each other, you couldn’t help yourself. You craved his warmth. His arms around you and how protected he made you feel.

You couldn’t make a mistake. Nothing you did ever made him yell at you.

And that was rather dangerous.

Because you could picture it so easily. Being his wife. His everything. Having his children. Cooking his dinner. Doing all the things loving people did.

All the things loved people did.

You pushed the thought aside with intense fervor, when you heard his raspy voice call out for you.

“Treasure? Are you alright?”

You nearly gasped when you realized how long you had been in there. With a soft shake of your head and a slow exhale, you pushed down the door handle and stepped out of the bathroom. He stood in front of the fireplace and stared down at the flames, lost in thought. When he heard the door open, he looked up and met your gaze. Something in him stiffened for a moment and his gaze ran down your body slowly. You swallowed thickly and tried to push your nervousness aside.

You wanted to be perfect for him. But you were so far from perfect. Each and every time you feared he would look at you, scoff and shake his head.

“I don’t remember that much skin.”

“You looked younger last time.”

“Where’d that wrinkle come from?”

But of course he never said anything like that. Simply your insecurities, giving you a hard time.

He hummed softly and shifted so that he was fully facing you.

“You look beautiful.” He murmured. “Come here.”

You approached him with slow steps, the sound of your tiptoes the only sound beside the crackling of the fireplace.

You came to a halt before him and he tipped your chin up in a gentle way, slowly tilting your head up and making you look at him. He brushed his lips over yours in the softest way, making you shiver in response.

His hand slowly ran down the side of your neck, until his fingers brushed over the lace that covered your collarbone. His eyes followed the movement and he released a soft sigh.

“You get more and more beautiful every day.”

How did he expect you not to fall in love with him, when he was being like this?

“Thank you.” You whispered in return and swallowed a bit of your nervousness.

His eyes crinkled in a smile that hardly reached his eyes and his hands slowly came down to grip your hips.

“You know what day today is?”

You nodded.

“Good.” He whispered and dropped his hands to his sides. “Then be a good girl for daddy and distract him.”

You licked your lips and slowly pushed him back. He was letting you. Until you reached the armchair and he slowly sat down on it. You stood before him and tipped his chin up, making him look up at you now. The look in his eyes was nothing short of admiration. His breath against your skin sent a pleasant tingle down your spine.

You slowly straddled his lap and rested your knees on the armrests, pressing yourself against him and feeling the hardness in his pants press into you already. But not yet, you thought. Why not tease him a little?

You leaned in as if to kiss him, but the second before your lips met, you slowly pulled your head back, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

A low growl grumbled in his chest. “Stop being a brat.” He murmured.

You bit your lip and leaned back with a grin. “Me? A brat?”

“You’re just asking to be punished.”

That made you chuckle. “Well…”

“Oh, I see.” He tangled a hand in your hair and tugged on it, tilting your head back and making you look up at him. “That’s how you want to play?” He murmured and his hot breath fanned over your lips and neck. “Alright, then. I invented this game, little dove.”

He released his grip on your hair and grabbed you by the hips, standing up and holding you against him. He picked you up like you weighed nothing and strode off to the bed, practically throwing you down onto it. The sudden intensity left you breathless and you looked up at him with wide eyes. He reached for his tie and slowly undid it.

“I thought you were daddy’s good girl. Looks like I was wrong.”

He sounded as calm as ever, not a hint of anger as usual. He was just being himself.

“I am your good girl.”

“I’d prefer you to be bad right now. Because I feel like punishing you.”

You swallowed thickly and bit your lip, like you did every so often when he got you cornered like this.

“How?” You whispered.

He smirked in that delicious way, which lit his whole face up without even trying. Then he slowly pulled the tie off and ran his fingers along the soft material.

“Turn around.”

Within seconds, you were on your knees and facing away from him. His hands were gentle as he reached for your wrists and brought them behind your back to tie them together. You took a slow breath and closed your eyes, while your body surrendered. It wasn’t hard for you. You trusted him. He knew your boundaries.

For whatever reason, with him you had boundaries.

Never in your life before had you ever told anyone to stop or not do something. Was it fear of being rejected? Simply fear? Something else? Whatever it was, it kept you from setting healthy rules to keep your body and mind safe. You were free to use. Anyone just did whatever they wanted.

Sometimes you did protest, but they wouldn’t stop and eventually you gave in.

But not so him.

He had asked not once, not twice, but countless times. Until eventually you had been forced to be honest and tell him what it was that threw you off. And to your surprise, he didn’t get angry, didn’t even move a muscle. He just nodded and accepted it.

There were a few freaky things you were into and you were obviously allowing him to do. But if there was something that you didn’t want, he didn’t do it. Just like that.

How hard it was not to fall for him. Impossible even.

He tied your wrists together fairly tight and made a point of pulling on the tie to make sure it was good enough. You felt his gaze roam along your back silently. He then ran his fingertips up your back, over your shoulder blades and eventually the back of your neck.

“You’re my little brat, aren’t you?” He purred.

When you didn’t respond at first, he made a point of gently tugging on your hair.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“And you’ve been bad, haven’t you?”

When you nodded, he tugged again, slightly harder this time. You gasped and immediately added: “Yes. Yes, I’ve been bad.”

“So, you deserve to be punished. How should I punish you?”

There was only one right answer to that.

“However you wish.”

You heard the way he smirked. “Good girl. You’re learning.”

He hummed and slowly circled you like a predator. Of course you felt rather exposed, kneeling on the bed like that, wearing nothing but that thin piece of lace and nothing to cover the dampness between your legs.

“Look at you.” He murmured. “So open and ready for me. Let’s see how ready, shall we?”

He didn’t hesitate to slide his hand between your legs and run a finger over your wetness. You couldn’t help but inhale sharply. Your body was aching for his touch.

Surprisingly, he knew how to make you cum. Pretty good even. No other man had ever accomplished that. You’d normally count only on yourself for that, but Mr. Important? Fuck, he was skilled.

He circled your clit in the same skilled way, causing you to squirm and gasp under his touch. He began to work his fingers on you more and more quickly, keeping his gaze firmly on your face. Your brows furrowed in a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment, but you didn’t care. You were so close. So close. So-

You whimpered when he sharply withdrew his hand, leaving you aching.

“Please-“ You whined.

“Not yet.” He said calmly. “Open your mouth.”

You obeyed wordlessly, allowing him to slide his slick fingers into your mouth and making you taste yourself on him. The bulge in his pants became more and more obvious and it did things to you. The way he looked at you, while he made you suck on his fingers was enough to make you go dripping wet. After a beat, he slowly pulled his fingers back and dried them against his shirt. You let out a shuddering gasp.

“You still ought to be punished, if I recall correctly.”

“Wasn’t this punishment enough?” You whispered.

He smirked. “Not even close.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and gently draped you over his lap, stomach down and your rear up in the air. Your cheek was pressed against the sheets and you closed your eyes.

“Ten. You know the rules.” He murmured and you nodded.

His flat hand cracked against your skin, sending a sharp pain through your body. He wasn’t gentle about that. Not at all.

You cried out in pain and tried not to squirm too much. “One. Thank you, daddy.” You gasped out.

He hummed approvingly, before his hand came down a second time, causing you to wince and cry out again. Somehow, every strike seemed to get more and more rough. Your skin felt raw and sensitive, more and more with every hit, but you forced yourself to stay still and count, like a good girl. By the time you reached the seventh hit, the pain was nearly unbearable. But you knew better than to beg and plead. It only turned him on more and he was ready and eager to start anew.

“Nine. Thank you, daddy.”

“One more. Just one more, treasure. You’re almost done.”

He deliberately waited for a few seconds, causing you to go rigid and tense in his grip. The uncertainty of when the next hit would follow was nearly killing you. Just when you expected it and you winced forcefully, he instead ran his palm along your red skin gently. You took a deep breath.

And then it came.

The most painful of them all and you immediately felt tears sting your eyes. Your voice cracked as you cried out: “T-ten. Ten. Thank you. Thank you, daddy.”

He made a soft sound, filled with approval and a hint of pride. “That’s my good girl. You did so well. I’m proud of you.”

His words made you feel warm and fuzzy and suddenly you felt like crying even more. Your feelings for him were more complicated than you thought.

“Thank you.” You whispered, still trying to catch your breath.

“I think you deserve a reward.” He murmured.

You tried to swallow, with your mouth dry and whispered: “I do?”

He ran a gentle hand over your hair and hummed again.

“You do. Let’s see what we can do for you.” He shifted you gently so you lay on the mattress instead, staring up at him with red-rimmed eyes. He ran his knuckles over your cheek and smiled slowly.

“Was it too much?”

You shook your head.

He took a slow breath and nodded. “Good.” He shifted so he was on top of you now and pressed a leg between your own. His knee slowly pressed against your core and you felt your eyes fall shut. You didn’t try to hide your pathetic whimper.

He smirked against your ear and gently nipped at it. “Look at that. Have you been this wet all the time?”

Your face flushed painfully and you swallowed your embarrassment. “Yes.”

He hummed approvingly and ran his lips along your cheek, before they finally met your own. You had no time to understand what was going on, when his tongue already parted your lips and delved into your mouth. He wasn’t sweet about it, instead your tongues met in a messy battle, ready to prod at and devour each other.

“What are you?” He groaned against your lips.

“Your cumslut.” You whispered back.

He groaned again and bit down on your lower lip. “Fuck, yes, my dirty little cumslut. You want daddy’s cum, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy.” You moaned out.

“Where do you want it, treasure? Dripping down your chin or deep inside you?”

Your eyes nearly rolled back. “Wherever you want.”

He pulled back just enough to kiss your neck. His kisses made you squirm and shudder, but it only ever got more and more intense. You felt so exposed and helpless, but also cared for.

He slowly moved his lips along your collarbone, before they brushed over the material that covered your breasts. He bit down on it and tore at until you felt the cold air hit your now exposed chest. He growled in response and didn’t hesitate to kiss and suck at the skin of your breast. Your hips involuntarily arched against his knee, which was still working on your core. You gasped breathlessly and rubbed yourself against him, desperate for more friction.

“Please-“

“Patience.”

He licked a wet path down your stomach, causing you to writhe and moan.

He wasn’t one for half things. When his lips reached your core, he wasn’t gentle or careful. No, his mouth enveloped your most sensitive spot and he began to work his tongue on you almost furiously. He sucked and licked, slid his tongue inside you and over your wet folds with an intensity that made you cry out. He then sucked on your clit in a way that was almost too much, but just right to make you cum so good that you felt like everything around you faded into nothingness. You felt warm and good, better than you had ever before. He took his time and made the moment last, riding out your release so intensely that you nearly had to pull away from him when it became to much. He smirked up at you and slowly came back up to face you. He was fighting for air, as were you.

“Oh God, that was-“

He pushed his tongue back inside your mouth, nearly fucking it. At the same time he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them torturously and pumping them against you in a way that brought you close yet again.

“P-Please, I- Ah!” Your release rolled over you again, hard and soft at the same time, with an intensity that was near painful. Your hips arched off the bed and you nearly screamed by the way you couldn’t find it in you to shut your mouth.

You gasped for air and expected him to finally pull back, but he didn’t. He kept curling his fingers against your sweet spot and the feeling quickly became too much. Your body was so sensitive and every new touch he added felt almost painful.

“Stop- Please- St-“ You cried out and pressed your hips against his hand involuntarily. Your release came crashing yet again, this time it was a feeling between heaven and hell. It still felt good, but it felt far too much.

“Please.” You gasped, before the feeling even was gone. “Please. I can’t take any more…”

He smirked against your lips and gently bit down on the lower one, before he slowly withdrew his hand.

“Good girl.”

You were still panting and gasping for air, when he gave your cheek a light slap. “Time for you to get to work.”

You moaned, and with some effort, fought your way to get up. Your hands were still tied, so you carefully slid down to your knees, kneeling in between his legs. He was still in his pants, so you looked up at him with innocent eyes and whispered: “Can you help me?”

He smirked again and gently cupped your cheek in his hand. “So obedient.”

He freed himself from his remaining clothes and you found yourself staring at him. Despite his age, he was so well-built and you were always desperate for every glimpse, every touch and every taste.

“Can I?” You breathed out.

He hummed and nodded. “Get to it.”

Your gaze wandered down, but he quickly caught your chin. “Keep your eyes on me.”

Your insides tingled with newfound desire. You forced yourself to keep looking at him, while your tongue slowly slid down his stomach. You saw the shift in demeanor. He was still dominant and calm, but his breathing sped up and something changed in his eyes.

“No teasing today.” He all but growled. “Let me feel that pretty mouth.”

You didn’t hesitate to obey. You parted your lips and ran your tongue over his tip. His head fell and back and he groaned. He then tangled his hand in your hair and guided your movements. He didn’t give you time to catch your breath, he just pushed you down and forced you to take him in. You were caught off-guard for a moment and felt yourself gag. He loosened his grip the tiniest bit and you began to move in the rhythm and pace that he set for you. He quickly went from calm and collected to a beast which rammed his thick cock into you and began to use your throat to his pleasure.

You felt yourself grow wet yet again as you moaned against his skin. Whenever he seemed to hit the back of your throat, he couldn’t control the low moans and groans that left his lips. Your movements became more and more frantic, determined to make him feel just as good as he had you.

Of course you wanted him to fuck you and he probably would in an hour or two. And again and again and again…But right then, you wanted nothing more than for him to shoot his hot load into your mouth and down your throat.

You sucked and flicked your tongue against him in a way that made his grip tighten more and more until he-

He went still, except for his cock, which was throbbing furiously inside you. He came with a low growl and he filled your mouth with his seed. He held your head in place, until he rode out his release. When he finally caught his breath back, he released a soft sigh and his grip on your hair became gentle again.

“Oh God, that was…” He sighed again. “Fuck.”

You slowly swallowed every drop of his cum, all the while never taking your eyes off him. His eyes instantly darkened again and he ran his thumb over your tongue.

“My good girl. My treasure.” He breathed out. “I’m so proud of you.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch. It became increasingly gentle and he slowly cupped your cheek in his hand.

“That was incredible.” He murmured. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He reached behind you and carefully freed your from his tie. Then he slowly rubbed his thumbs over your sore wrists.

“Does it hurt?” He murmured. You shook your head.

He pulled you up onto the bed again and gently laid you down beside him. He stared down at you for a long moment, before he finally rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes.

“I don’t know about you, but I could use a full-course meal right now.”

You chuckled and wrapped your arms around him, slowly running your hands down his back. “Isn’t that what you just gave me?”

He smirked and slowly opened his eyes. “You and that wicked mouth of yours.” He murmured.

Your smile softened when he pressed a lingering kiss against your forehead.

“Can I stay for the night?”

He would most likely let you. He never sent you away feeling used or unsatisfied or, God forbid, unwanted. But there was a part of you that needed to be reassured so badly. And he seemed to know.

He raised a brow and his own expression softened.

“Did you expect anything else?”

His coldness melted away whenever you were like this, entangled and breathless.

No matter how many times he said that it didn’t mean anything.

His eyes told a different story.

“No.” You whispered softly and rested your head on his chest. “No, of course not.”

[green-butterfly-writes]

Little Thief (Part 2)

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

Summary: Red Hood has a new informant, and nobody likes it. Two of the bats meet them. It’s not what they expected.

Trigger Warning for starvation and animal/child abuse. Read at your own risk.

Also, there is angst, but I promise it will get better soon 💚

I'm Dyslexic, and don't have a beta, so spelling mistakes are likely to happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Red Hood had a new informant. One he would not name. And nobody liked it. This mystery individual had given him the location of Cobblepot’s new scheme a month ago, a warning about a big bank robbery two weeks later, and a tip to look into what the Black Mask was doing five days ago. It was good information, but Batman (being paranoid as he was) didn’t trust it, and neither did anyone else. It was likely a trap, but Jason protected his informant with such passion that nobody could get anything out of him. At least, not until today.

Jason was out of commission for a week, and Gotham was in deep trouble. The Joker had broken out of Arkham and despite thoroughly examining every inch of every abandoned or rundown theme park, amusement center, and playground in Gotham, they hadn’t found a trace. It took a mix of bribery, black mail, threat of bodily harm and a significant amount of painkillers for Jason to agree to give them instructions on how to get the information they wanted. Which is how they ended up on a random rooftop with a bag of fast food.

~~~

Two figures made an unwelcome arrival at your designated meeting place. Instead of a single pair of feet softly falling on to the roof, and the air being filled with the familiar scent of sweat, gunpowder, and campfire cologne mixing with deep fried chicken, the wind sent a wave of overpowering floral detergent, mint shampoo, and citrus no-tear soap to assault your senses. The sounds of two individuals landing harshly on the roof stabbed at your sensitive ears, and even though the moonlight glowing from behind them obscured their appearances, you could price together who had intruded upon your night.

They both scanned the roof from their vantage point, and you crouched closer to the ground and leaned against the brick box that functioned as an access point to the roof, hoping the shadows would hide you long enough to make an escape plan. 

After seeming to confirm there was no human in sight, the taller of the two figures turned to examine the surrounding buildings, and the smaller crossed his arm over his chest and huffed.

“I don’t trust this,” the smaller one petulantly mumbled, quite enough you weren’t sure the man behind him could have heard, “Everything about this is suspicious, the secrecy, the location, the set up… who trades information for a burger of all things.”

“I heard you the first seven times Robin,” the taller of the two answered, dropping a familiar looking paper bag on the ground before arching into a handstand, “but this is the best — and currently the only — shot we got.” The words hung in the air for a moment before he added, “and it’s not a burger, Jay was very particular about that”

The boy huffed in frustration and looked ready to lose his temper, but with the cargo confirmed as food, your plans of a quick quiet escape were all but abandoned. Even with the smaller one — Robin — facing away momentarily to glare at his upside down companion, the temptation of food was just too strong. You hadn’t seen Red Hood in three days, nor had you eaten in just as many, and your stomach ached with need. Under better circumstances you could have dove between the two and stolen away with the food, but the past several days had been brutal, and every movement hurt. You opted to stay where you were, in hopes a better opening may present itself.

The taller of the two righted himself to his feet, and looked around at the surrounding building again, before lifting one hand to his ear, “you sure we got the right place? I don’t see anyone… no I checked, I’m sure. What do you want us to do,  just wait around? For what?! Yes… Yes! I understand that, but is this really — no, I promise. And who’s fault is that?…” he spoke heredity and harshly, and with all the standard Gotham street noise closer than it could be, it took you a moment to register the mumbling of another voice. You scooted closer in hopes of hearing the other side of the conversation, but due to a mix of pain and exhaustion, you stumbled, disturbing some of the debris around you, and while the taller of the two remained seemingly oblivious to your presence, Robin’s piercing eyes locked on you your location, still obscured in the shadows.

He grabbed hold of the sword on his back, and confidently stepped forward. You hesitated for a moment, before carefully extracting yourself from the dark, staying close to the ground in hopes of seeming as small as possible. Robin froze for a moment upon first impression, though his face was unreadable. He slowly sheathed his sword, and in turn you rose from the ground to stand. He took a soft step forwards, and you did not back away. He took another slow step towards you, lowering himself slightly, trying to appear less frightening, and in turn you made a small shuffle forward. By this point Nightwing had fallen silent, watching your careful dance with his companion. A delicate back and forth until you were three feet apart.

“What are you doing here thalabun?” he asked softly, more rhetorical than anything. You weren't sure how to answer the boy, how to explain your relationship with crime ally's guardian, so you stayed there, looking at him, examining is spiky hair and soft skin, familiarizing yourself with the citrusy smell that wafted off him, listening to his faint, controlled, rithmic breaths. 

“Give me the bag,” his voice was sharp and stern again, head aimed at his elder.

“No way,” came a swift response, “we need it for the informant, remember?”

“I'll only take a little, look at it!” Robin exclaimed gesturing to you, “plus we've been here for almost twenty minutes. I don’t think they’re coming.”

Nightwing seemed to mull it over, carefully examining you, before picking up the bag and launching it at a waiting Robin. Robin unwrapped the chicken sandwich, and pulled off a piece of the patty, tossing it at your feet, where you quickly lapped it up. Nightwing wandered over to where his partner was sitting on the ground and dropped beside him.

“Ok Robin. What's next? The informant is a no-show, and we still need to find the joker. Where else could he be?” they both sat in silence considering the question, pondering what — or rather where — they missed. A small, strangled ‘yip’ echoed into the damp cold of the night, and both vigilanties snapped their attention back to the fox. It yipped again, tail wagging, as if to say ask me. 

“You wouldn't happen to know where the joker is, would you?” Nightwing asked, almost sarcastically. He got a yip in response, and a head bob that resembled a nod. That made him pause…

“You do?” he repeated, beginning to doubt his vision and sanity. But as if to assure him of both, the creature repeated the gesture. “Could you show us?”

That… was a bit more difficult. Your body hurt and you were tired, three days of no food, little sleep, and constant harassment from kids, store owners, and wild animals alike had taken a toll. But you wanted to help. To be useful. At least to pay back the kind souls for feeding you, but also because doing good felt nice. And very little seemed to feel nice these days. So you summoned what strength you had, and launched yourself at them, leaping between, and landing on the hard floor with surprising grace. You pushed all your energy, all your hope, and strength, and thankfulness, into your legs so that they would go, go, GO!

You made it just short of the edge of the roof before your legs gave out and you were consumed. By darkens. By pain. Your back hurt, burning with every cut and bruise you had ever received. Your legs stung and ached. Your stomach clawed at your flesh begging to be filled or released from its prison. You were surrounded by darkness. Deep and unending, it was cold and quiet, yet all too loud, swallowing you, leaving you with nothing but pain. Everything hurt. So, so much. And you were alone, with no one to treat your wounds or hug your suffering heart. There was no warmth to reach for, no soft blankets or squishy stuffed animals. Just you, alone, cold, and in pain.

Two small, steady hands buried themselves beneath you, before carefully leaning you against something soft and sturdy. A kind hand shifted to run from the top of your head to the base of your tail, before repeating the motion. It was soothing, inside and out. Slowly the pain alleviated, and your breathing evened out. The dizzy feeling lifted, and you summoned all of your will power to crack open your eyes just a bit. You were met with the soft concern of Robin, worry visible even though the mask he wore. Robin’s steady breathing softly lifted you ever so slightly, and you focused to match his breathing: in and out, in and out. He smelled clean and strongly of oranges. It reminded you of the girls home you had lived in for six months before it was shut down for feeding the kids expired food. It was not a good place, but it was kinder than many others. You had missed the smell. 

“How about I carry you and you point to where we need to go?” he recommended softly, still running his hand down your spine. You basked in his warmth and soft touch for a moment longer, trying to regain your strength, before shifting in his hold and pointing at Gotham’s skyline. 

“That way?” You briefly nodded in confirmation, and both boys launched themselves off the roof and into the night air.

You had never seen Gotham from this perspective. Sure you climbed up fire escapes, and sat atop many buildings, but it was nothing like this. Nothing like soaring through the air, skyscrapers flying by. The way the wind licked freely at your hair reminded you for a moment of a trip you had taken with your mother long ago. She was driving on an empty dirt road, heading to the beach. The air was sunny and warm, the breeze swayed the trees in a methodical way, and your mother had let you stick your whole upper torso out the window. Distant street noises brought you back to reality, and looking down you saw the cars and people, they reminded you of Mr. Knox’s toy train display, the one that nobody but him was ever allowed to touch. They all looked so small from here. 

Eventually you all landed outside a junkyard with a broken front gate. You led them inside, between piles of broken cars and rubbish, around the sharp metal and spilled oil, all the way to a faded, rusty, ice cream truck. Its hood was dented, the paint was chipped, and it was missing its two back tires, but a distinctive, infuriating, familiar laugh radiated from the inside.

The two vigilantes exchanged a look, before Nightwing turned to you and held out a crinkled paper bag.

“I guess you were Hood's little informant,” he breathed out. You gladly accepted the payment, and retraced your steps out of the junkyard and into the concrete jungle of Gotham.

Once you were long out of view, and hidden in a grimy abandoned back alley, you softly plopped the bag on the ground. Your food was in a bag and wrapped in foil, you’d need thumbs to get it out. You didn’t like being in human form, not right now. You were skinny in both forms, but without the fur coat being a fox provided, the wind and cold seemed to sink right into your bones. It didn’t help that your small amount of clothing had definitely seen better days. But food is more important than momentary discomfort, so you shift, trading your tail and matted fur for arms and skin. 

You unwrap your chicken sandwich and sink in your teeth. The bread gives way softly, and a delicious crunch sounds as the lettuce brakes away into your mouth. The tomato bleeds its sweet juices onto your tongue, and as your mouth finally closes around the first bite of food you’ve had in days, you realize that by some miracle, despite the hour weight and cold conditions, the center of your crispy, chewy chicken patty was still warm. You barely finish chewing the first mouthful before taking a second, desperate for food and warmth.

You wonder if Red Hood is ok.

Thank you all so much for reading! Let me know what you think 💚

Notes:

Nightwing and Robin intentionally landed loader than they normally would in hopes of alerting the informant they had arrived, since they were expecting a human.

Jason, on the other hand, always tries to be especially quiet when coming to meet you because he knows your ears are sensitive.

'thalabun' is fox in Arabic according to google translate. if this wrong please, please let me know, as I intend to use it with some consistency moving forward.

ALSO!! Illustration

tag list:

@4rachn3

Let me know if you want to be added 💚

[talaok]

What's a fanfiction?

"You wrote it, I think it's only right you get to experience it, babydoll"

Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: By mistake, you send Joel, your neighbor, your dad’s best friend, a fanfic you wrote, and when you go to his house to talk to him about it, your worst fear comes to life… and then your biggest dream.

Warnings: age-gap, he blackmails you (but youre very much into it) smut| oral sex (m receiving), facefucking, 1 lil threat of anal, p in v sex, creampie, sir kink, small little breeding kink moment, so much degradation, and a lil bit of praising.

a/n: i am aware this is not written very well, but i was thinking too much and then i remembered that at the end of the day i do this for fun and its not that serious, so please overlook all the shitty parts. love ya very much<3

Read.

Read-

He read it. He fucking read it and you're gonna jump off a cliff and die.

You swore- you fucking swore you sent it to Miley yesterday night. Right before you went to sleep, you finished writing it and sent to her- except obviously, that wasn't what had fucking happened.

You'd sent it to him

And now you needed to find a fucking solution.

__ __ __

God even knocking felt like torture,

"oh hi y/n" Sarah's smile was nothing like her dad's, it was all kindness and sweetness, while Joel's... well Joel's always had something strange lurking behind his.

"Hi Sarah" you forced your lips to mimic hers, although the nerves were making it difficult "Is your dad home? I kinda need to talk to him"

"mh-mh" she nodded, gesturing for you to come in "he's in his study upstairs"

You stepped into the house just as she crouched down to pick up a gym bag

"You know where that is right?" she asked "I'm late for practice, I gotta go"

You felt your heart drop as her words sank in.

She was going out- she would be leaving you alone with him, in his house, in his study-

But then again, considering what it was you were here to talk about, maybe it was for the best.

"Yeah, don't worry" you forced another smile

"great" she beamed "see you later then"

And just like that, she was out of the house, and you were sole in the middle of your neighbor's entrance.

__ __ __

Again, another knock that felt very much like a punch to the gut

"come in"

His voice was warm and strong like it always was, that same voice that made your panties dampen just at the thought of it.

"H-hey Mr. Miller" you swallowed thickly, pushing open the door as if an army of zombies waited on the other side

"Darlin'" he nodded at you from behind his wooden desk, a hint of a grin shadowing his lips

Darlin'

Darlin'

God this fucking man

"h-hey" you said again, cursing internally while you tried remembering why you were even there.

Oh, right. Just about the most awkward thing ever.

A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest, making the hair at the nape of your neck stand.

"Whatcha doing here, doll?"

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, and then you felt your eyes fall to the floor as your hands fiddled with the edge of your skirt.

The skirt you purposely wore to come here- for him-

god what a stupid fucking-

"Thatta real pretty skirt you got on"

Your eyes snapped up to him, but he took his time glancing away from your legs.

"Oh- I- thank you" you murmured

"Jus' call 'em like I see 'em, darlin'" he shrugged, leaning back into his chair "Now's that all you came here for? To show me your new pretty skirt?"

"n-no" you rushed in to say, perhaps too quickly to be fully believable "I came here because I- uhm" You bit your bottom lip, the nervous fiddling starting back up again

"I ain't gonna bite babydoll"

Fuck- at this rate your panties would start melting.

"last night-" you gulped "I kinda- I... well I sent you something by mistake"

"ah" he hummed, raising his brows as he clicked on something on the laptop next to him "I gotta say, issa real... interesting story this one"

No-

NO

Fuck my life and everything ever in the existence of the universe fuckfuckfuck-

"who's..." he trailed off, reading off his screen "Javier?"

Your lungs had turned to stone and your mind to dust.

This couldn't be really happening, no, I mean, even if he'd read it for some reason he surely wouldn't be... taunting you for it.

"Mr. Miller-"

"real lucky guy" he said, his lips twitching into a soft smirk as he looked at you curiously "You brought him home to meet your daddy yet?"

"n-no" you stuttered, your mind a big ashamed mess and your whole body frozen like a statue "n-no he's not... real"

You watched his brows come together in confusion.

"what's that mean he ain't real?"

A shaky sigh fled your lips as you surrendered to your fate

"He's a character... f-from a tv show"

He remained silent, and as comfortable with silence as you were it was a different kind of story when Joel Miller was staring at you... so you talked again.

"T-that's a fanfiction, I- I write them sometimes, it's... fun"

His eyes searched yours for answers, faint amusement sparking in the back of his irises.

"what's a fanfiction, doll?"

Death wasn't such a scary thing after all- yeah it sure as hell was a better alternative to this.

"It's a... made-up story, that people- that I- sometimes write about fictional characters I like- a-and then I post it for p-people to read"

"And this Javier..."

"Narcos" you blurted out "H-he's from the show Narcos, he's not real"

His mouth twitched into a subtle smile, his eyes raking all over your body as if he was checking to see if it was really you in front of him

"I've seen that show" he said, his brow raising "Ain't he a bit old for you, babydoll?"

"Y-yes well- I-I-"

But you had no excuse for that, you could never tell him the truth, about how much you liked older men... about all the celebrity crushes double your age- so you just bit your lip, looking down at the floor.

The noise of his chair creaking as he got up made your heart skip a beat, but it stopped completely only when you heard him step closer to you... until he was right before you.

The only thing you could see were the socks covering his feet, and part of his black jeans- you didn't have it in you to actually look at him, to see him laughing at you, but you had no other choice when two of his fingers pulled your chin up.

"so you sit in your room, imagining this old man doin' all this stuff to you, and then you write it down?" he spoke, his beautiful mouth so very close to you "And here I was thinkin' you were a good little girl"

Your breath caught in your throat at those words, and he... yeah he definitely noticed.

"Please don't tell my dad"

"well I don't know" he moved some hair from your face, "I think this is somethin' your daddy ought to know"

a well of fear dipped into your belly, your eyes widening

"n-no please" you begged "Please Mr. Miller don't, I'll do anything- anything at all"

"oh sweetie" he cooed, "that ain't somethin' you can tell a man, especially not after he's read all the dirty things you fantasize about in your pretty little head"

"Mr Miller-" you bit your lip

"Mr Miller?" he repeated, looking down at you like you were the smallest little creature in the world "That ain't what you were calling Javi now, was it?"

A small, almost imperceptible gasp left your mouth.

He couldn't be saying... no right?- except...

"Joel-"

"that ain't it either" he shook his head, his thumb tracing the shape of your lower lip "you know what it is babygirl"

Either you were gonna make a fool of yourself, or this really was what he wanted.

"S-sir"

The slightest, most feline smirk pulled at his lips in satisfaction "thatta girl" he murmured "you don't want your dad to know what a dirty lil' girl his daughter really is?"

His breath was fanning on your mouth, and his touch was making your legs turn to jelly.

"n-no" you shook your head almost imperceptibly

"no?" he asked again, just to see you squirm, just to savor this moment for a little bit more.

"no sir"

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down his throat, his eyes looking into yours, memorizing every inch of your face, of the anxiety, the ardor, the plead in your expression.

"then get on your knees"

Your eyes widened in shock, the air going up your throat suddenly getting stuck

"w-wha-"

"what?" he asked, not even sounding like himself anymore. His tone was sweet, calm even, but something almost dire lurked underneath his words.

"you seemed eager to do it when Javi asked" he tilted his head, his fingers still holding your chin.

If you didn't know better you would have guessed it was jealousy that traced his tone whenever he spoke the name of your fantasies's protagonist... little did he know the main reason why you even liked Javier was his resemblance to him- to Joel.

"Mr- sir" you stuttered "I-"

"I don't like to repeat myself y/n" he spoke sternly, his eyes boring into yours "Do you want your daddy to know or not?"

You didn't need to answer, you only held his stare as he let your face go, and you slowly, unsurely, and awkwardly got to your knees.

"wasn't so hard now was it?" he asked, his eyes dark enough to fade into the night sky "what are you waiting for?"

"I-"

"You need instructions babydoll?" he chuckled "'cause I ain't gonna give 'em to ya" he said while your heart pounded in your chest "I know you know how to do it" he smirked "Described it so well in your little fanfiction"

"b-but I-" you tried to take a deep breath but doing anything while he towered over you, while his crotch was right in your line of sight was proving to be very very difficult "I've only ever done this once" you gulped, trying to keep eye contact

"yeah?" he smiled, his hand going to the top of your head, gently patting it...that really shouldn't have turned you on as much as it did. "then how come you knew exactly what to do with Javi? don't tell me you just guessed"

He either didn't believe you, or was really not expecting that. But it was the truth- you'd only ever done anything once... and it's not like it had even felt that great.

"Well, I- I do research... and I- I read a lot"

If you thought he looked predatorial before... you had no idea how bad it could really get.

"research huh?" he mocked, his voice as deep as it could get "Oh baby you're digging yourself a hole here" he tsked, shaking his head while looking almost disappointed "I really think your daddy ought to know about all the research his lil' girl's doing under his roof"

"No!" you begged, your bottom lip trembling.

"No?" he asked, tracing it with his thumb "Then I suggest you make it good, babygirl"

And that was that.

Your trembling hands undid his belt, then lowered his zipper, and finally pulled his pants down until they pooled at his feet.

Fuck

He was huge- even with the boxers still on it was very clear the man was just massive-

"I don't like to be teased y/n"

"s-sorry sir" you responded automatically, noticing his cock twitch within the confines of the fabric in appreciation of your obedience.

You had to do it slowly, you had to pull his boxers down slowly so you could have time to calm down, to not panic in front of the huge cock that was gonna be right in front of you at any moment-

And yet it didn't work- a soft gasp fled your mouth as you freed his manhood.

He only chuckled, watching the fear in your eyes, and quite frankly, very much enjoying it.

"I'll tell ya if you're doing it wrong" he simply spoke, his hand going to the back of your head to guide you closer to where he wanted you.

He was getting impatient. And you didn't want to disappoint him.

Yes, he was blackmailing you, but you'd be lying if you said you hadn't been dreaming of this for years.

You looked like a frightened kid as you wrapped your right hand around him, and you looked even more out of place as you opened your mouth and started fitting his length inside of it.

A weak grunt rumbled from his chest "Hollow your cheeks" he ordered, having you obey in a heartbeat.

"fuck that's good" he groaned now, watching you intently as you started bobbing your head, trying to fit more of him into your mouth "Good little slut"

You didn't know a moan was gonna flee your mouth until it had- until your whole face felt hot and you waited terrified for Joel's reaction.

Exect he was smiling- no- grinning like you'd just given him the best gift he'd ever received.

"Oh, you're really something else ain't ya, darlin'?"

"mhp" Your muffled noises were all the more entertaining to him, especially paired up with the sight of your thighs rubbing together.

You were so fucking wet you feared at any moment you would start dripping onto the floor.

"so needy" he murmured, his hand now gathering your hair in a makeshift bun "You wanna touch yourself, baby girl? wanna feel good while you make me feel good?"

"mh-mh" you tried to nod, to beg, to say yes please for the love of god let me.

"that's too bad" he tutted, sounding like he was holding back a laugh "Javi didn't let you do that now, did he?" he smirked "You wrote it, I think it's only right you get to experience it, babydoll"

But before you had time to ask yourself if he meant all of it, he'd spoken again.

"that all you can take?" he asked, watching the first half of his cock in your mouth with amusement "Here- how 'bout I help you out darlin'" he smirked, his hips retracting just to thrust into your mouth-

It wasn't a hard jab, but still you choked, and then you choked some more as he did it again, watching you fit more of him into your mouth as saliva drooled to your chin and your eyes watered.

You could feel the texture of every inch of his dick with your tongue, the feel of his veins, and the taste of his precum were all you were aware of.

"like that- see, jus' needed a lil' help" he groaned "Even a slut like you needs it sometimes"

His pace had quickened, and tears were now streaming down your face.

"shh" he shushed you once you choked yet another time "I know it's big baby" he cooed, his thrust much less gentle than his words, although that was all an act too "I know, I know... but you're gonna have to be a good whore for me and take it aaall into that slutty little throat, ok?" he murmured "just try to breathe through your nose"

What did he mean try?

What if you tried and failed?

But you weren't actually worried- you had never thought being horny could actually be painful, and yet, there you were, literally so wet and turned on it hurt.

You couldn't even see him anymore through all the tears covering your eyes, and you didn't even realize you were actively choking and making a complete mess of yourself, all you could feel was his big fat cock, and dream about how it would feel inside of you.

"God fuckin-" He groaned like an animal as he finally bottomed out, his dick making a permanent dent into your throat at this point "Jesus Christ"

He stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, watching you struggle, and then, just like that, he was out- and you could breathe again.

He didn't even give you time to catch your breath, to finish coughing like a maniac that he'd already given you another order.

"get up," he said "take off your clothes"

He really did want to recreate the fic- you were- you were about to have sex with Joel Miller, THE Joel Miller, your neighbor and dad's best friend Joel Miller.

oh fuck

"What did I say about repeating myself?"

You scrambled to your feet, pulling your shirt off at the same time.

You heard him snort but didn't pay it any mind as you took your bra and skirt off as quickly as you could.

You really were desperate.

But when it came to your panties you slowed, everything suddenly feeling very real.

"what are you waiting for?"

"s-sorry sir" you mumbled, finally dropping them at your feet.

A soft groaned fuck climbed up his throat as he examined every inch of your body.

You would be covering yourself, feeling a little self-conscious, if it wasn't for the fact that his gaze had turned you to stone.

"pick your panties up" he said as if getting out of a trance.

You frowned, confused, but obeyed nonetheless.

Maybe he didn't like the mess...

"Put 'em in the first drawer," he said, nodding back to his desk.

Oh

He followed your every move as you walked past him, but it was only when you were at his desk, that he started stalking towards you.

He was right beside you now, and somewhere along the way he'd lost his shirt, because your back was now pressed against his chest, and your ass was right against something else.

"I'm keepin' those" he murmured, his deep voice right next to your ear, his hands going to grip your waist.

You dropped the panties where he asked and nodded, turning to him, finding his face, his mouth, but an inch from your own.

"Yes sir"

His cock twitched again right against your backside as his mouth ghosted yours.

"Bend over"

You swallowed thickly, doing as he said.

You shivered feeling the table's cold wood meet your skin, but you got hot all over again once you felt Joel's words.

"Spread your legs"

You did.

"What an obedient slut I've turned you into" he grinned, proud of himself

"Where do you want it?"

You felt his cock slide between your cheeks, making you whimper and arch your back.

"here?" he slid it in between your legs, connecting with your clit.

You moaned as you shook your head no

"here?" he asked again, this time his dick prodding at your asshole.

You gasped as you mumbled "N-no sir- please"

"You want in your throat again babydoll, 's that it?" he teased you, his tip still leaving smears of his precum on your hole

"mh-mh" you shook your head no again "Please"

"no?" he snickered, "Then where?"

"Here?" he asked, the tip of his dick finally getting exactly where you wanted him "in your slutty lil' pussy?"

"yes- p-please sir- I-"

"say it" he taunted you, almost slipping in.

"I- I need it"

"what do you need?"

"Y-Your cock sir" you begged

"Where do you need my cock?"

"I-I need it in my pussy" you cried- he was so close if he would just- "I need your cock in my pussy sir, please I- I'm begging you-"

"good little slut"

He pushed in with one singular, hard thrust, making you cry out so loud the whole neighborhood probably heard.

He was so big it kind of burned at first, but as he thrust in again and you heard him groan in pleasure, there was no going back- you were in complete bliss... and your brain had turned to mush.

You were moaning- loudly.

"fuck-" he grunted "you're such a whore darlin'"

The sound of how wet you were as he plunged into your heat was filthy.

"Y'know- I usually give women an orgasm before I fuck 'em," he said as his balls slapped rhythmically against your skin "but you're just a whore- and whores don't deserve to be treated with respect, do ya?" Your back arched, feeding him more of yourself as your walls squeezed around him "Nah, you deserve to be used. Used like the little sluts that you are" he kept grunting, not paying any mind to how loud you were being, or how the desk had started to slip because of how hard his thrusts were "And it ain't like you need it, is it darlin'?" he chuckled, suddenly pulling you up, his right arm around your torso keeping you pinned against him "you're makin' a mess" he murmured into your ear, shivers running up your spine "and besides, this' how you wanted it- wrote it jus' like this in your lil' story didn't ya, ya little slut?"

He bit your earlobe just as his dick hit your cervix, making your brain short-circuit.

It was all so hot- so fucking hot.

"I can't imagine what your daddy would say" his mouth was on your neck now, but his pace was the same as ever, as hard and unapologetic as it could get "knowing what nasty things his little girl likes to think- to write" he chuckled "bet the poor guy would have the fuckin' big one if he knew"

"if he knew how you like to be fucked by men 30 years older than you" he groaned, feeling you squeeze him as you whimpered his name incoherently "if he knew how tight you get when I tell you how much of a slut you are"

Your eyes were rolled back, and your head had dropped against his chest

"please"

"If he knew how good you fuckin' take my cock" he murmured right against your mouth, your legs trembling "How desperate you are for it"

He was going even faster, and he was now supporting your whole body because your legs weren't working anymore.

"If he knew what a fuckin' whore he raised" he grunted, plunging his cock as deep as it could go, molding your body to him "how she's my whore now"

And that was it- that was it.

You felt actual tears stream down your cheeks as bliss took over your body- as you cried and moaned and trembled until you were done, until you'd finally recovered.

"I'm gonna come inside babygirl" It wasn't a question, it was an order, just like every one he'd given you for the past hour "Jus' like Javi" he grunted, his thrusts more erratic now "except this is real life baby- and you better hope it doesn't stick" he smirked, feeling your walls squeeze involuntarily at his words "God you're such a slut"

"Now take it all like a good one"

You couldn't help but join his moaning as he came, as he filled you up to the very brim.

You were a mess- cum was already running down your thighs as he slipped out of you, but you still followed his lead and started dressing again- only your panties were in his drawer and the walk back home would be a real awkward one.

"You post these stories?"

There was no point in lying, you'd already confessed to it.

"I- yes" you swallowed, putting your bra on "o-on Tumblr"

You could very well see he'd never heard of the app

"How are you called on there?"

He'd stepped closer to you, watching you fiddle with your shirt in your hands.

His belt was unbuckled, his jeans still open, and you were starting to feel ready for round two already.

"S-sir you want t-to-”

"I gotta know what other things your daddy can't know about” he murmured, moving a piece of hair from your face “and all the things I’m gonna do to my lil’ slut”

[smutoperator]

No Rest For The Peach

Hirai Momo x Male Reader (+4 other guys)

Part 2 of 3 of Twice The Fun

Tags: airtight, (a lot of) anal, anal creampies, anal queen, bukkake, dirty talk, (a bit of) double anal, (lots of) double penetration, gangbang, hard facefucking, (very) loud sex, pounding that peach, objectification, rough sex, (lots of) squirting, warehouse

Word count: 6004

Momo loves to be treated like an object. This sexy Japanese dancer loves to use her body for the pleasure of horny men. And today, as Twice had just arrived for their pair of concerts in Tokyo, it was no different.

"Meet me at this warehouse," you sent a message to Momo as soon as she arrived in Japan, pointing to the place you wanted to have fun with her. "A warehouse? What plans do you have for me?" she asked. "To make you scream until you lose your voice, that's why we are going to do it as far away from the city as possible," you replied. "You can chill; let's say I know a thing or two about warehouses," you continued.

Indeed, Tokyo is such a bustling city that your plans would only be possible if you went to its outskirts. No neighbors to bother, no one to hear you by the moment you started doing the filthiest things to Momo.

Momo accepted your offer. "I'll be there just before the concert," she said. Indeed, she fulfilled her words, only to find out an empty warehouse as her manager dropped her off there with no one in sight except heavy trucks circulating in the middle of an extremely industrial zone.

You sent Momo a message. "I see from the cameras you're already there; get ready to be pushed to the limit," you said. "Where are you?" she asked. "Upper floor, waiting for you," you replied.

Momo walked the dark rooms of the warehouse before climbing to the upper floor on a very old lift to find you sitting on a chair. "You are wearing too much; take that jacket off, but I'm glad your belly is already exposed," you said.

Momo obliged and took her jacket off. "What else do you want me to do?" she asked. "Get naked; show me your perfect body," you replied. Momo indeed did that, leaving her body fully exposed in that hot summer day in Japan. "So, what's next?" she asked.

"Sit on that chair; let me admire that body," you said to her. Momo has such a small frame, but she packs a really hot body on it. Pretty face, big tits, toned tummy, fat ass, perfect pussy, strong legs—she's got everything that can make a man go crazy and unable to hold the urge to fuck her nonstop.

Momo spreads her legs and plays with her pussy to tease you. She stares at your riding erection with the perfect fuck me eyes. But soon, she finds out you two won't be alone for this crazy ride.

After descending back to the lower floor, the lift rises back up, bringing a convoy with four more guys that are about to join you: an old dude in his 50s, a tattooed guy, a muscular dude, and a young stud, all wearing the same outfit, black t-shirts and jeans. Just like you, they are well aware of Momo's amazing body and waste no time putting their hands all over it, with the tattooed guy going straight into groping her tits and the old man playing with her already wet pussy.

"I love being surrounded by five hard-fucking cocks," Momo says as she kisses you. She already knows what this is about. And she loves it. Not even 10 seconds after some groping, she's already on her knees, ready to do her job as a fuckmeat.

"Toss all those fucking cocks at me," Momo demands as she kneels and the men drop their pants in perfect sync, showing their huge erections all at once. Momo respects seniority and deepthroats the old guy to start the blowbang session, but he shows he's no slouch and puches back by fucking her face until she gags.

"Yes, give it to me; fuck my mouth harder than that," Momo says as she pulls out and jerks the old dude's cock. He does just that. Momo punches back and takes his cock balls deep in her mouth as the other guys just look at her and anxiously jerk their pricks off waiting for the turns.

Momo ramps up the challenge, putting your cock and the one from the muscular guy at the same time for a double barrel blowjob. She really loves savoring all that meat and brags about how her face is right on the guys cocks level when she gets on her kness. "God, I love those cocks; they were made to fuck me face," she says.

The young stud proves Momo right, fucking her face and making her eyes roll as you and the muscular guy surround her cheeks to the side and hit them with your cocks tips. "Look at me, bitch," the guy demands of Momo as he stuffs his cock down her throat.

"Feed them in my mouth," Momo begs as you and the muscular guy are the next in line. The latter is especially rough, leading her mouth to make countless gagging sounds as he pounds her throat under your watch.

The tattooed guy is the next in line. "Take it deep; he's not fully hard yet," you tell her. Momo does as you ask, letting his erection grow under the warmth of her mouth as she stuffs his cock balls deep. "Good girl," the guy praises her as she throats him for a good minute.

"Give me more cocks; I want more." Momo is very vocal. She's probably said more lines already than she will during the whole Twice concert afterwards. As the old guy promptly grants her wish, she makes signs with her hands to the young stud's cock, telling her to come close while still finding way to jerk your cock off.

Momo giggles as the young stud pounds her face and makes her perky thighs bounce. She then takes turns getting her face fucked by every single guy, with the other ones slapping her face and other parts of that body. "Ahhhh, that's so fucking yummy," she says when her mouth is finally without a cock blocking it.

"If it's so yummy, then open your mouth," you tell Momo, taking your cock all the way deep in her throat, grabbing her head as you thrust your hard prick into her face. Momo gets even hungrier. "FUCKING SURROUND ME WITH THOSE FUCKING COCKS," she screams, begging for more man meat.

Momo spits all over the five cocks, getting them very sloppy as she uses her tongue to slurp all over them, getting frequently two and sometimes even three guys at the same time in her mouth. But the studs don't want to stuff just that one hole of hers. This is just the beginning.

The old guy brings Momo in your direction as the remaining dudes break up the circle surrounding her. Now the real fun begins. "Fucking stuff me," Momo demands as you grab her peachy butt. Her asshole is already gaped, making you wonder if this slut hasn't already fucked another guy before even coming to the warehouse. Either way, you don't care. All you want is to shove that meat up that peach.

"Oh yes, give me," Momo says as you insert your cock straight up her butthole. Your thrusts are fast and hard from the beginning, as Momo is already getting spit-roasted and taking on the other guys cocks in a rotation as you pound her beautiful peach. Since Momo stands for peach in Japanese, you could even say you're now getting to fuck Momo's momo. 

"Go down, go down," you demand to Momo, who drops her face into the young stud's cock while you keep fucking her ass. "OH YES, DESTROY MY ASS," Momo screams as you relentlessly attack her peach. You had never fucked a hole in that speed before, hammering Momo like she's nothing but a fuckmeat while grabbing her firm and fat butt with all your forces.

Momo is elated as you let the other guys take turns in her ass. "Yes, GIVE IT TO ME, PLEASE," she begs. You guys treat her like a total object, competing to see who pounds her fuckholes harder, her anus and mouth turned into nothing but orifices of pleasure, and her body turned into nothing but the vehicle you guys will let out of any frustrations by pounding it into oblivion.

"Stretch that beautiful peach," you tell the guys. "OH FUCK, IT'S SO GOOD IN MY ASS," Momo screams at the rare moment she doesn't have a cock stuffed in her mouth. Her tits bouncing are amazing to watch, as none of you hold back in the way you fuck her. In fact, the harder you fuck her, the more Momo doubles down, doing the spit-roasting now with two big pricks in her mouth, making it just a matter of time she gets two in her lower holes as well.

"I want more, please, baby, give me that cock," Momo says as you go back in her asshole, now adding spankings into her peachy butt as the other four guys get in front of her and Momo entertains them all. One in her ass, two in her mouth, two getting jerked off, Momo pleases all those hungry cocks at the same time. "Good girl, you're so fucking sexy with all those fucking cocks," you praise her.

"I WANT ALL THOSE FUCKING COCKS, YES, YES, PLEASE," Momo screams as the tattooed guy chokes her and slaps her dumb face. It's this early in the day, and Momo is already numb for cock, her eyes rolling as you pound her ass faster than the speed of light. Some guys now spit on her face. "Fucking cock whore," they say to her as the muscular guy now gropes her tits.

"POUND THIS FUCKING ASSHOLE," Momo keeps screaming. Your plans of renting that abandoned warehouse vindicated because imagine if she was doing it in the middle of Tokyo's city center; all you guys would already be behind bars. Instead, you are fucking her without any limits and plans of stopping, enjoying how hard your balls slap against her clit and your hips clap against her cheeks.

Momo shakes her ass as you pull out of her peach, and another guy already pops in. Now it's clear she can't go a single second without a big cock stuffed in her butt. "Give me that ass," the old guy says as he now takes her turn in her wonderful butt. You move to the front as Momo now rims your asshole before you end her fun and go back into pounding her throat.

"FUCK ME BABY, GIVE IT TO MY BIG ASS!" Momo screams, flaunting about her assets. "OH GOD, I'M GONNA CUM, AHHHHHHH," Momo screams again. "Then look at me and cum with my cock in your filthy mouth," you tell her just as Momo starts squirting all over the warehouse's floor. 

Momo gags on your cock as she coats the floor with her juices. The young stud comes from behind and destroys her asshole harder than any guy before him. "FUCK, I LOVE IT SO MUCH," Momo says as she ducks her head down and stuffs her mouth full of your cock and the muscular guy's at the same time. "Harder, FUCK THAT ASS HARDER," Momo demands even though she's already getting pounded at insane speeds. She truly wants you guys to give no rest for that peach and loves every hard thrust inside it.

You started slapping Momo's slutty face as the young stud continued to obliterate her butthole. "YES, SLAP ME LIKE A SLUT," Momo says as you bring her head down to your cock. "Guess it's the only way this bitch is going to shut up," you say, pounding her throat, trying to match your protegé's extreme intensity.

"Come here, you tell Momo, pushing her sexy body on top of yours as soon as the hard spit-roasting session ends. "Oh, please, I want all my holes stuffed," she begs. Her wish is quickly granted, as within seconds after she sits her pussy in your pole, another cock is already ready to fill her ass. "Yes, put it in there, please," Momo begs in a cute, aegyo-ask voice as she gets double-penetrated.

Momo's DP is airtight from the start, just as she asked, with a third cock filling her mouth. "We are gonna use everything; we are gonna use every part of you; turn you into just a fuckmeat, a cockslut," you say to her as you reach to grope her tits. Her sexy peach looks better than ever with two cocks pumping up her pair of fuckholes. Momo's transformation into a sex object is fully complete.

"Gulp gulp." Momo tries to say some words, but the cock in her mouth just muffles them. But you understand that she meant "Use me." "She wants to get used; let's go guys; fuck that slut until she passes out," you say.

"AHHHH FUCK, I LOVE HAVING BIG COCKS INSIDE BOTH MY HOLES," Momo screams as soon as the guy with the cock in her mouth pulls out for a single second. Momo knows her sexy body is meant to be used and that any encounter between her and multiple cocks that doesn't end with her getting double-penetrated is a waste. Momo is meant to be fucked this way: submissive and airtight.

"STRETCH ALL MY FUCKING HOLES, FILL ME UP," Momo begs before the guys go back into airtight stuffing her. "GIVE IT TO ME, THAT FEELS SO FUCKING GOOD." Momo never misses an opportunity to scream to the top of her lungs how much she loves it, knowing that you guys are gonna fuck her even harder after it.

Momo gets toyed by your gang; you pound her pussy and such her tits. The young stud stuffs her throat, the muscular guy fucks her ass, the tattoo guy, and the old guy slap every inch of her body, making her cum for the second time. "I'M GONNA CUM ON BOTH YOUR FUCKING COCKS, AHHHHH," she announces, closing her eyes as her body collapses on top of yours.

"MORE, MORE, MORE, I WANT MORE COCK," Momo keeps begging. "It turns me out so much having five cocks all over me, fucking me like a whore," she says as the other guys take turns fucking her ass while you stay inside her wet cunt. "Look at that big peach, so fucking spankable," the old guy says at his turn, him and the tattoo guy providing Momo the dirtiest spit-roasting combo yet as you watch under her hot body.

Momo tits giggle as you guys increase the intensity. "Don't stop; I want two cocks in my holes all the time," she commands. "HARDER, HARDER, GIVE IT TO MY HOLES; I WANT TO BE POUNDED SO HARD BY BOTH YOUR FUCKING COCKS," Momo screams as the DP keeps going. "Who wants to fuck those holes next? I want all those fucking cocks inside me," a cock-crazed Momo says.

You switch positions and finally get to fuck Momo's beautiful ass as the top guy in this DP session, gaping it harder than all the other guys, making Momo lose her mind. The guys in front of her slap Momo's face, and she loves. Good god, she's such an object, only useful for cocks to get shoved deep inside her holes.

Momo demands gets all five cocks to please now, one in her pussy, one in her ass, one in her mouth, and two to jerk off. "Good girl, good girl," the guys praise her skills as they use her to the fullest. "Stoke those cocks; use every part of us to please us, you fucking whore," you say to her.

You move to the front and shove your cock balls deep in Momo's mouth, letting her taste her own asshole. "Look how eager she is to taste her dirty butthole," you say as the tattoo guy replaces your cock inside her ass, her peachy cheeks and big tits moving by their own at this point, with each guy pounding her harder than the one before.

Back in Momo's ass, you get to show her who's the alpha dog, becoming the first guy to mount on top of her sexy body. "OH MY GODDDDDD," Momo screams, and you loved that it was the same instinctive reaction as when you got on top of her a few months ago. Momo knows this is your favorite position and the one you take her at the hardest as your hips smash her peachy cheeks. "GIVE ME ALL OF IT, POUND ME LIKE A FUCKING WHORE, THAT'S WHAT I LIKE," she screams.

"MAKE THAT SLUTTY PUSSY CUM," Momo says as you fuck her ass so hard you dislodge the cock inside her pussy; more squirt comes out of her body as she's already completely wasted. Who knows how she's gonna perform tonight with that asshole and cunt destroyed to the max, and you guys aren't even halfway done with her.

Momo gets pushed to the floor as the guys start taking turns fucking her ass in a hardcore missionary position. You shut her moans down instantly, stuffing your prick in her mouth, as her face is already fully covered in saliva and her hair is messier than ever. 

Momo giggles as she gags all over your cock, stroking the other two guys while getting fucked in the ass. "I want your balls smacking my face when you fuck my mouth," she begs as she knows she gets one cock bulging under her fit tummy and another bulging under her slutty throat.

The anal destruction continues as Momo keeps screaming. "GODDDD THAT FEELS SO GOOD," guys now sit on top of her dumb face and let her lick their dirty asses while another pair of guys slap their cocks on her face. Gushes of squirt come out of her pussy every time someone's cock hits the depths of her anus. 

"Pound my ass as hard as you fucking can," Momo begs to the guys. But little does she know things are about to get rougher as you come on top of nowhere to give her cunt a mating press, restarting the double penetration.

"STUFF ME, STUFF ME, SHIT, THAT FEELS SO GOOD," Momo says as your cock hits her pussy at the perfect stuff. Truly, there is nothing that she likes better than getting double stuffed, her peachy ass getting smashed to the floor by the intensity of both cocks destroying her fuckholes. She laughs and smiles, licking the cock in the vicinity of her mouth while you guys give no rest for her peach.

"KEEP PUMPING MY ASS, FUCKING PUMP ME," Momo screams as you let the young stud do his usual job in her peach before he sticks his hands in her cunt and makes her squirt again. "AHHHHHHHHHH," Momo screams as juices come all over her pussy.

"I want everyone here to take turns in my big fat ass," Momo says as she finishes squirting. All the guys smile. What an anal queen she is. She picks the muscular guy to sit with her ass, making her beautiful big tits bounce hard as she rides his pole. But leaving her cunt wide open, she attracts the other men's attention, who quickly turn her reverse cowgirl into a reverse DP.

You choke Momo and go back to stuffing her marvelous wet Japanese pussy. She rolls her eyes as the young stuf stuffs his cock in her mouth, and your thusts make her tits bounce as you also slap them. "FUCKING POUND THOSE HOLES," Momo begs as she fingers her pussy ready to squirt again. "I CAN'T TAKE IT, THIS IS SO GOOD, I'M GONNA CUM AGAIN," she says as you keep using her pussy, slapping her face, treating her like an object.

"COME ON BABY, GIVE IT TO ME, STRETCH THAT FUCKING HOLE, MAKE ME STUFFED FULL OF FUCKING COCKS," Momo says as the guys take turns pounding her pussy. "Fucking slap me in the face and tits," she continues as the guys use every inch of her body and make her smile like a good whore.

"Fucking choke me, please," Momo begs to every guy that fucks her pussy. Her nipples are now fully erected, just like those five cocks destroying her. "I love the way you guys share me; keep pumping me full of fucking cocks." Momo says.

"We do too," you say, grabbing Momo from behind and placing her under a full Nelson anal while fingering her cunt. "OH YES, USE THAT FUCKING ASSHOLE; I LOVE BEING TREATED LIKE SUCH A WHORE," she says. That anal fucking quickly goes back into a DP as the tattoo guy stuffs his prick in Momo's cunt and pounds her on a mating press.

Momo keeps getting destroyed for a good five minutes by a heavy rotation of cocks in her pussy. "Fucking feed me, give me more," she begs as her bouncy tits get groped from all sides and the cocks bulge under her tummy. "You guys like that? Stuffing all my fucking holes," she rhetorically asks.

"Fucking pound my holes like it's the last time you're gonna get them," Momo says. You guys really picked the right girl for such an intense gangbang, as her stamina and willingness to fuck match yours perfectly even after 30 minutes of rough pounding.

"Feed my ass, feed my pussy, feed my throat," Momo demands. You give her a rough facefuck before tossing her back into your friends to ride more cock, choking her as your muscular friend and old friend get ready to double stuff her once more.

You watch Momo getting double-penetrated like crazy as you feed your cock into her mouth. "I want more cock," is all she can say as you guys go airtight on her and she gags on your pole. "Fucking slap me in the face with your cock," Momo begs as she bends down the floor and gets pumped like a piston by a pair of studs while you treat her face like a toy. "Getting stuffed by so many cocks gets me so wet; I'm gonna cum again," she says as you sit on her slutty face and trap it.

"What are you doing, Momoring?" you ask her. "I'M CUMMING SO FUCKING HARD," she answers. "Say it again to me, whore," you reply. "I'M FUCKING CUMMING ALL OVER YOUR COCKS," she screams, squirting as you get back to pound her face and spank it.

"Let me see those beautiful eyes; you're so fucking pretty," you tell her. "But you know what makes you even prettier, Momoring? A cock stuffing your slutty face," you say. "What about a cock in my pussy and one in my ass?" she asks. "Even better".

Momo gets her ass slapped hard by all guys that fuck her, as all of you toss your shirts out on the floor and get butt naked. "Please, please, more, fuck my fucking ass," she begs, stretching her mouth so hard you feed your cock back into it with ease. The young stud chokes her with his shirt while fucking her ass. Momo is turned into a complete mess now, just a useless cocksleeve ready to be dumped after you guys extract your pleasure from her sexy body following this torrid gangbang.

Momo's body is completely used, her cheeks redder than a ripe peach, her asshole gaped to the size of the moon, but she's determined to keep going, riding on your cock as you spank her ass and clap your balls against her peach. She then bends down in a submissive position for more DP as the young stud stuffs her already gaping asshole.

"Take it, take it, take it, come on baby, cum on those cocks," you order Momo, who's back for more airtight stuffing. "I can't hear you," you poke fun of her as another cock pounds her face. As Momo gets rid of it and tries to scream, the young stud has to shut her mouth.

"OH, I WANT THOSE FUCKING COCKS SO FUCKING BAD," Momo screams as she tries to ride the guys, but they quickly take control of her body back again. "Cock, cock, is all I want," a numb Momo keeps saying, her body sweatier than ever in the Tokyo summer heat.

"Come here, Momoring, suck my cock; I know you're eager to taste your pussy" you order to Momo as you lay on the floor. It was all a trap to bait that stupid bitch, as the muscular dude takes her cunt from behind as soon as you start thursting upwards into her mouth. What a perfect moment for Momo, getting fucked in her pussy while tasting it as well.

"SHIT, AHHHHH," Momo screams as the muscular dude toys with her holes, now alternating between stuffing her pussy and her ass. Her perfect peach getting pounded is a sight to behold as he spanks it. "OH YES, KEEP GOING FUCKING BOTH MY PUSSY AND ASS, USE BOTH THOSE FUCKING HOLES," Momo begs. The old guy is next, flipping her around and doing the hole switcheroo thing as well.

"FUCKING SLAP MY TITS, FUCKING TREAT ME LIKE A SLUT, TOUCH MY BODY, GET YOUR HANDS ALL OVER ME," Momo says as the solo fucking sessions from each guy go on. Choked, slapped, and pounded, Momo is used to the fullest. "DON'T STOP, DON'T STOP, I'M CUMMING," she begs as you end up being the one who gives her a huge anal orgasm that makes her squirt like a water fountain.

"That's what I want—all those cocks fighting for my asshole," Momo says as the tattooed guy adds to her orgasm toying with her pussy while pounding her asshole. "There you go, you fucking sexy bitch," you say to her. "FUCKING POUND THAT ASS!" Momo screams as her legs shake; she sticks her tongue out, and you grope her tits.

The young stud carries a slippery Momo and shoves his cock in her pussy as she smiles. You quickly join him as you two give Momo a DP with her standing on just one leg. "Shove those big fucking cocks inside me," Momo begs as she gets pounded. She just closes her eyes and enjoys the ride. "Oh yes, please, give it to this fucking little slut," she says as both your cocks work in perfect sync to fuck her.

"USE ME, USE ME, MORE, MORE, HARDER, HARDER, FUCK, FUCK!" Momo screams the few words that still can come into her numb brain. You are very unselfish, letting the other buds take turns in Momo's asshole. "Oh yes, please, take turns on me, spread and pump that asshole, stroke, and jerk those cocks off inside of me," she says.

You get back inside of Momo, this time taking her pussy as she remains in the same position, getting sandwiched by a pair of cocks at each turn. Nearly 40 minutes have passed now, but the gangbang is still going on at a very intense pace. Momo is just too sexy for you guys to stop fucking her.

"Pump me harder, pump me harder," Momo begs as she uses her flexibility, standing in just one leg as your cocks can't stop finding their way between it. "POUND ME, POUND ME, POUND ME," Momo begs as she collapses into yet another orgasm.

As soon as Momo is back on her feet, the young stud wastes no chance to get back in her ass, hammering it harder. No rest for the peach is the theme of the day, as every time one cock gets out of Momo's ass, another one is already ready to pounce back in. You and him now lift Momo's body, giving her a carrying DP, but this time switching holes as you take her pussy and he takes her ass.

You two lead the way; no wonder you always found young stud as your best bet to split a girl in half with both your big cocks. He is such an easy learner and pounds every girl hard, just like you, but you had never seen him fuck someone as insanely as he's done to Momo today, as you two trade blows in her holes in a healthy competition to see which cock Momo likes the most.

"OH MY GODDDDDD, OH SHITTTTT, TAKE ME, TAKE ME, TAKE ME." Momo screams as she now has no control over her body; you and the young stud cocks are now her de facto legs as her hot body gets sandwiched between both of you, her real legs fully lifted in the air. The other guys just watch in awe as you guys tear Momo apart. When the young stud's cock slips out of Momo's ass, you quickly switch back into fucking everyone's favorite hole as he holds her for you to pound nonstop while the other dudes get close and grope her big tits.

Momo crowns you the winner, getting down on your cock to taste both of her holes as you captalize on her submission, grabbing her by her wet, messy hair to fuck her face once again. The other dudes encircle her to get their pricks jerked off, but Momo's eyes are all on you, feeling blessed that you could provide her with such an experience after her return to Japan.

The guys take turns fucking and slapping her face. "Oh yes, surround me with all those fucking dicks; slap them on my," Momo demands, her face turned into a drum for all those big sticks. "THAT'S WHAT I FUCKING LIKE, I'M GONNA CUM JUST WITH THOSE COCKS HITTING MY FACE, AHHHHH," Momo screams as she masturbates herself down low and makes the floor even more slippery, squirting all over your feet.

But you guys aren't done with Momo and her sexy body yet. As she masturbates herself, you guys take more turns fucking her face. "Lick my balls," the old guy demands, as Momo goes fully nasty and engulfs it in her mouth. The muscular dude slides in to fuck her face as you watch her masturbate herself, getting eager to slide your cock back in her cunt without her even noticing as she was occupied dealing with her face getting pounded.

"MORE COCK, MORE COCK, MORE COCK," Momo begs as she rides your pole, her tits bouncier than ever as she gets choked. The young stud puts her in full Nelson as more DP ensues. "Stuff it, stuff it," a sweaty Momo begs. "GIVE ME MORE, STRETCH THOSE FUCKING HOLES, FUCKING PUMP THEM," she screams, using her hands to spread her pussy lips as the two cocks keep pounding her.

"My holes are so hungry. TELL ME HOW MUCH YOU WANNA USE THEM, TELL ME HOW MUCH YOU WANNA PUMP THAT COCK IN THERE." Momo can't stop yelling even as the guys start slapping her ass and stuffing her in a fetal position. "STROKE YOURSELF INSIDE ME; I LOVE GETTING STUFFED WITH ALL THOSE COCKS," she continues to scream.

"I fucking love being gangbanged," Momo says. "Next time I want 10 cocks fucking me," she continues, going completely wild and unfiltered as her body gets treated like a toy for your gang's pleasure. "STUFF ME, STUFF ME, RIGHT FUCKING THERE," Momo continues to yell as your crew can't drop double stuffing her, the guys roating between themselves at a franctic pace to take one extra piece of her fuckholes.

"KEEP FUCKING PUMP ME, HARDER, HARDER, HARDER, OH SHITTTTTTT," Momo has gone completely off the rails to this point. That slut can't live without cock any more; one guy out, another in, and she's having the time of her life. "YEEHAW, I'M SUCH A LITTLE SLUT TAKING ALL THOSE FUCKING COCKS," Momo says as she goes airtight and can't even recognize who is who at this point. As long as it's a big cock, she's taking it.

You take one final turn in Momo's ass, giving it a hard pounding as the other guys already prepare themselves to cum after a long 50-minute fuck session with this energetic little flexible Japanese slut. "FUCK ME JUST LIKE THAT, AHHHHHH," Momo screams as your balls smack her peach and her strawberry, thursting inside her asshole at a pace of over five thrursts a second.

The muscular guy and the young stud double penetrate Momo for one final time, just enough to get them prepared to nut all over her. "DON'T STOP, PLEASE DON'T FUCKING STOP UNTIL YOU CUM ALL OVER MY FACE." You and the young stud line up first to ejaculate on Momo's slutty face. "Please, drain your balls on my fucking face," she begs.

And sure, Momo gets it, as the young stud unloads in her mouth while you give her a bullseye cumshot. "Oh, it's so warm. I love getting covered in all that cum," she says. "Come on guys, give me some more; come feed; please, give me your cum," she says as the tattoo guy is the next to nut on her face, followed by the old guy and the muscular guy. "Oh, that's so fucking hot," Momo says as you guys complete a bukkake on her after fucking her hot body for over 50 minutes.

"So hot, I love being covered in five big loads," Momo says. "I'm gonna mix all that cum and swallow it," she continues, scooping it up and feeding it into her mouth. "So fucking yummy," she says as the gangbang is over and three of the guys leave the room, with only you and the young stud left.

Epilogue

"You gave us a great experience today, Momoring, truly the ultimate slut," you tell her. "But we still have 5 minutes left to use our fucktoy, and we are gonna take it," you tell her. "You guys are so hungry; what are you gonna do to this little whore?" she asks.

You and him put Momo on the floor. "Face down, ass up," you say. The young stud enters her asshole, and you soon follow suit. "OH MY GODDDDDD," Momo screams again as she gets to have two cocks in her already sore ass. "Spread that fucking ass; take it; it's all yours; FUCKING STUFF IT," she says. 

You two pound Momo relentlessly for one final time, pushing that slut to her limits. "KEEP GOING, USE MY ASSHOLE, MAKE IT YOUR CUMHOLE," Momo screams as you two gape her butthole into oblivion. And you guys know Momo could take three cocks in there with ease. The anal queen of Japan gets gaped to the maximum as you guys toy with her pink anus and its flexibility to fit two cocks larger than a tennis ball.

Five minutes is all you two need to drain your balls for a second time, coating her butthole full of milk. Momo collapses into the floor as both of your jizz leak out her asshole. She's an utter mess, having to rush into the stadium as the manager picks her up and takes her back.

Momo takes a shower and, after some painkillers for her sore holes, puts up her usual great performance. She was truly glowing, and you had a privileged view from your VIP seat at the stadium. 

Now you had to make her one last proposal before she departs back to Korea.

"Hi, Momoring," you meet her backstage. She hugs you, still amazed by the experience you gave her. But you're about to turn things up a notch.

"I know you'll be back next week for another concert, this time in Yokohama, and I want to meet you again," you say.

"You didn't even need to ask; I was going to see you anyway," she said.

"Well, then you are gonna love having 10 guys share your body this time, just like you asked me, Momoring," you replied.

"I'll be there no matter what," she says, kissing you as you head home, already preparing for the next week of fun on Momo's hot body.

[sskk-manifesto]

And so the big sskk shortage begins (no sskk for the next 15 episodes) (and the sskk episode coming after kind of sucks)