#I-Grip Adhesive

[usrubberrecycling]

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[mothbaaalls]

idk how people shop online anymore because i was looking at cases n screen protectors n such and it's just all slop. if i ordered any of these things i think all i'd get in the mail is a little speaker that says "GET TROLLED LOL" and then explodes

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader. husband nanami, whiney nanami, brēeding, cowgirl, mdni. adding to this

riding nanami so good that it makes him want to propose. focusing his weight purely on his rocking chair, the continuous creaks sing as you’re rutting back and forth. “s- sweetheart,” he slurs in a dreamy tune, a baritone-like rasp falling on his words. one hand of his grips toward your waist, tracing a thumb against the pretty curvature of your torso. whining yourself, you lean in toward his neck to bury your face near the crook, but he makes you collapse back. “no, no. don’t hide from me, wanna see those eyes,” and as gentle, mahogany irises meet your own, he groans. “good girl, my good girl. jus’ keep lookin’ at me, yeah.”

“kennnn,” you whimper, the repetitive dragging of your hips scratching a bittersweet carnal itch near the insides of your brain. his body heat was scorching hot, you thought you were gonna melt. the insatiable skin slapping against skin makes you deliriously numb, you want more. with your loose jaw hanging itself open, drooping—you lean in to lick a stripe up his neck. “fuck, ‘s good. mhm,” and each time you slam back and forth against him, he kisses his teeth. nanami’s sweating profusely, he barely even notices though because his entire attention’s focused on you. his pretty girl. although, the moment you start to dip your hips in a deep circular rotation, he tosses his head back.

“fuckin’ s- shittt,” he swears, and even his curses sounded so blissful . . sinful. for the first time in forever, nanami whines. the palm of his hand then closes in on your ass to give it a good firm squeeze. with fawn strands covering his eyes, he starts to shake. with his hefty chest heaving and a needy tone pouring from his voice, his gaze meets yours once more. “marry me, m- marry me, i need you to be my wife, please.”

an eyebrow of yours quirk upward at his words as a smile pierces its way against your spit-slicked lips. you throw your arms over his broad shoulders before giving him a sweet reply.

“hm?” and your hips had him going insane—the tempo, it was just right. not too fast nor too slow. the centers of your jittery knees bury itself into the sides of the chair before you whisper into his ear. “did you forget, baby? ‘m already your wife.”

nanami moans, your voice was enough to make him spasm right then and there—you sounded so sweet but your insides felt even sweeter.

your sloppy cunt grips against him tight like a vice, simply clinging onto him for dear life. within each pull and bounce against his lap, your walls were so gummy and goopy. it was just tantalizing. you were nothing but a tease and he only craved for more as each second passes.

taking in every inch of his thick cock, you hold back a noise yourself. digging the edges of your teeth into your bottom lip to suppress an incoming squeal, you kiss his neck — it was slow, you create a soft trail of butterflies with your lips. marking his neck with your own wings that press against your mouth.

“hah, oh . . are we?” he responds, panting. with a hand still glued to your hip like it’s made of adhesive, his eyes meets his ring finger. you and him were definitely still married. he groans, feeling a lump in his throat equivalent to the size of a saucer. “ah, forgive me sweetheart. ‘m sorry, y- your hips are just so..”

he doesn’t even bother trying to finish his trembling sentence before his cock kisses up against your g-spot once more. not just an ordinary kiss though, a french kiss.

it’s sloppy, passionate, and exquisitely thorough.

tangled fingers of yours claw at his cerulean blue dress collar. with cobwebs and cobwebs of slick saliva sloshing against each mouth — he huffs, shivering from your hands to roam further down his work shirt he wore. nanami was sexily slouched back, two thighs spread open for you with a single leg bouncing up and down in anticipation.

oh, he was close. his base sags and hangs as you’re rutting against him quicker and quicker. with a nice amount of fingers scraping through his hair and toying your fingertips with his scalp, you dip your tongue further into his mouth. “m- my love,” he purrs, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him so whiney. his voice was melodic at most, each breaking syllable making the throbbing between your legs intensify. “don’t stop, please—i love you, i love you.”

“i love you too ‘ken,” you babble, feeling the elastic stretch curve and pull through your walls.

your lips part and you moan before feeling him hold your waist tight. nanami groans against your ear and it’s so low that it was almost a mere growl. it could have easily been mistaken as a growl with the raspiness in his voice. with your knees continuing to plow deeper into the chair, bouncing back and forth, he spanks you, again, and again, and again.

nanami’s about to come, you know once his prettily blown irises roll wayyy back until he’s seeing white and his thin brows curl into a proper furrow.

each sloppy bounce against his lap punctuates so good that he’s barely able to hold his moans back by now. you had him hooked. his faint poking dimples press together as he tries to speak, but instead of words, another dragging whine escapes. leaning up against his ear, your warm breath tickles his lobe. “c’mon, kento. cum in me, ‘s okay. make a mess in me, baby.”

“f- fuck, keep talk to me just like that, sweetheart ‘n i might,” he replies back in a shaky tone, feeling a chill reside up his spine.

your cunt’s addictive warmth was preparing to milk him for all that he’s worth. as he clenches down on his jaw for the umpteenth time, his grip against your waist tightens. “ugh, ‘s gonna be so much. so much for you, my sweet l- love,” and as he’s rambling, a thick load abruptly shoots into your core, dribbling into your womb. it’s hot, and when it rains it pours. nanami swallows thickly, the same lump that lived in his throat was now forming into a ball. your hips steadily slow down and you glance down to see the lewd mess emitting deeply into you. it’s so much—it’s velvety, creamy ropes of cum that quickly fill you up to the very top. as his tip spits such sloppy amounts of seed into your starved cunt, he bites his lip. “oh, ‘s still comin’ out. forgive me, ‘m givin’ you all of me, princess.”

with a soft smile, you kiss near the crevice of his mouth where a tiny crinkle caresses and marinates against his soft features. “don’t apologize for being dirty, ken. ‘s okay.” and his face softens at your words. nanami feels his body shudder with heat from how gentle you were with him.

you’re clinging onto him dry and he’s still pumping you full of ridiculous inches—featuring his beloved, syrupy textured cum. it’s a whopping amount that he could barely process how much he’s gifted to you until he actually looks down. the moment chest deflates, the sensitive crown head of his cock gives your sweetest spot its final chaste kiss. satisfied with being filled to the very brim, you don’t get off just yet. instead, you remain there, gently brushing your hips forward.

“m- marry me,” he repeats, his voice cracking.

nanami hears the squelches and spurts your own pussy makes from the residue of cum spewing from the undersides of your legs. “ah,” and he grips your chin, attempting to kiss you but his lips instead reach toward your chin. you worn him out, he’s barely even reaching your mouth and it’s cute. nanami’s got hooded half lidded eyes and a pried open mouth. he’s almost drooling for you, that’s how whipped you had him. “be my wife, i need you.”

kissing his cheek, you smile at his current pussy drunken state. taking a mental image to savor this moment forever, a thumb brushes its way against his tender cheek. “i'm your wife already, silly,” and his eyes dramatically roll back in rapture again. nanami’s releases always last long, and he’s still getting over it. his dick twitches from the sound of your voice, and he wanted more of his sweet sweet wife. the feeling of your sopping walls squeezing him for every ounce of cum he’s got makes him grunt. it feels so good that it’s almost heavenly. it’s warm and insanely sticky — oozing in ropey wads from your hole before trickling all near his lap. “all yours, ken.”

“all m- mine,” he repeats breathlessly, gently grabbing your wrist up to his mouth.

with a sheepish exhale leaving his lips, a free hand slithers its way toward your tummy. sighing deeply, nanami makes direct eye contact. “my love,” he repeats for a final time, and you gasp once he suddenly pulls out.

pouting for a second at feeling empty, he makes you lie flat on your back. nanami’s got a feral look in his eyes, broad shoulders raising up and down and messy unkempt strands all in his face, he wants one thing tonight and it’s you.

as he spreads your quavering legs open with a single hand, he then creeps two fingers toward your stuffed cunt to smear his cum near your entrance. “since we’re already married, let me g- give you a baby, sweetheart. you’d be such a good m- mommy.”

[kajibunny]

✶⋆.caught in the act ‼˚.⁺⊹(ren kaji x reader)

✿ summary: this is the first time kaji ever ran out of lollipops. it is also the first time that kaji ever ran out of a room so fast after being caught making out with you. by umemiya and hiragi, no less. so how did you get yourselves into this predicament? ✿ contains: fluff but suggestive, getting caught making out with kaji, making out with kaji (lol), a little bit of crack if you imagine kaji’s reaction ✿ a/n: remember how kaji reacted and went (o_o) when he got caught by ume and hiragi talking with sakura on the rooftop? well, this is that, but make it spicy! lmao ;-; say it with me now: poor kaji! hahaha please accept my apology lollipop~ ✿ wc: 1k

how could kaji be so careless?

it all started with you accompanying your boyfriend, ren kaji, to the furin high rooftop to grab a band-aid from the first aid kit. he got a small cut on his finger from trying to open his sixth lollipop of the day. you held his finger in your hands, as you wrapped it carefully with an adhesive bandage. 

kaji muttered a ‘thanks’ and outstretched his open hand to you, indicating that he was asking you for another lollipop. you were starting to think he was developing an addiction to that damned piece of rounded hard candy. he started depending on you to carry them for him too, since you two were always together anyway. also because you had a bag and sometimes he would lose them when they fell out of his hoodie pockets. 

“this can’t be.” you sighed in frustration, after going through all the pockets of your bag and finding out there were no more lollipops. 

he threw you a puzzled look. “what?” kaji peeked over your bag through your shoulder and realized what you meant. you gave kaji an apologetic look in return. “i’ve run out.” kaji shook his head in disbelief. “how is that even possible?” 

you huffed and crossed your arms. “it’s because you go through them way too fast! you’ve already had six of them today, even cut your finger from opening the wrapper.”

“so now it’s my fault?” kaji paused for a moment, and his narrowed eyes trailed down to your pouty lips, which gave him some sort of idea. kaji leaned in closer to you, a soft blush making its way to your face with the proximity of kaji’s mouth directly in front of yours. 

“i guess this’ll have to do for now.” he sighed as he tilted your chin and moved in for a kiss.

“ren, we could just buy one…” you murmured in between kisses. “no, i need something sweet in my mouth right now.” he stubbornly argued. 

he bit and sucked on your bottom lip as if you were his lollipop, and gripped your jaw to keep your head in place while he continued devouring your mouth, exploring your cavern as you melted into him, kissing him back with fervor and passion, the faint taste of sugar from his previous lollipop still lingering on his lips.

the kisses that you shared with kaji ranged from soft and gentle, to gradually escalating to being incredibly needy and passionate, leaving you breathless and head being filled with only him, like you are now, completely in the moment.

“ren…” you gasped, feeling his hands roaming your thighs, fingers slightly under the hem of your skirt, and at the same time his body is pressed up so closely against yours. you let out a small whimper. “we can’t…” 

“just a little more, i need my sugar fix…” he couldn’t bring himself to stop, and you didn’t have enough self-control to pull him away from you, as kaji’s kisses and touches felt too good, and how could he resist how sweet you looked and tasted? it’s like he was addicted to you, the craving he felt for you was even stronger than his craving for his lollipops. 

you two pulled away for a little bit for air but what kaji saw before him knocked the air right out of his lungs.

standing at a distance was umemiya, his hand covering his mouth after he had let out a tiny gasp. beside him was hiragi, whose jaw dropped to the ground as he fumbled in his pockets frantically looking for his stomach medications.

as bad as it sounded, you two were so focused and entangled in pleasure that it did not even occur that someone could possibly walk in, regardless if this was after school and mostly everyone had went home or gone on patrol. you and kaji pushed each other away like you were on fire. well, your cheeks were, anyway, burning so intensely from the huge blush that formed on it.

“ah, young love.” umemiya gushed. kaji was so frantic, that his eyes widened like saucers. 

“i was going to ask if you could take charge of patrol tomorrow, kaji. but it seems you’re already taking charge of something else…” hiragi cleared his throat and tried to hold back his amusement from the sheer look of shock present on kaji’s face. they both enjoyed teasing kaji, it seems. you were definitely in shock as well, as you bowed your head multiple times in apology to both umemiya and hiragi. 

they both told you it was absolutely fine, and hiragi apologized as well for walking in on both of you too, conking umemiya on the head with his fist for chuckling about how “grown up” kaji was now.

kaji, who had no idea what to say or how to react or how to look anyone in the eye ever again, quickly put on his headphones, grabbed your hand by the wrist and ran off with you, heading off to the convenience store to stock up on lollipops. lesson learned: never run out of them ever again. (although, the real lesson learned should be: don’t get caught making out in public ever again).

ꕤ bonus ꕤ

the two of you decided to head to kaji’s house, an air of tension still looming over both of you from the embarrassment of being caught by umemiya and hiragi. while seated on his bed, kaji looked over at you like he wanted to say something but he stopped himself from doing so. 

you tried to lighten up the vibe with your humor. “by the way, i made sure to lock the door. i don’t think umemiya and hiragi would randomly walk into your bedroom, ren.” you placed your hand on top of his reassuringly. kaji finally looked up and his eyes met yours. deep down, he felt ashamed not just because the two of you got caught, but because the image of you in that state and your blissed out facial expression was supposed to be for kaji's eyes only.

“would…you like to continue from where we left off?” he asked, while you giggled and embraced him tightly. “hmm, where were we?” you grabbed kaji by the collar of his hoodie and pulled him in to give him another round of kisses. 

© kajibunny 2024 / all rights reserved

[hencheri]

18+ mdni.

What happens when Jeno is secretly obsessed with you and has a roommate as equally sick as him?

pairing: jeno x fem!reader x haechan

warnings: noncon, kidnapping, implied stockholm syndrome, perv!jeno, mean!haechan, unprotected sex, overstimulation.

wc: 8.6k

a.n.: it's dirty dirty dirty i am ashamed of myself!! (i love this)

You hate the cold and you hate winter. Especially when the weather goes into a frenzy like that; violent winds that make it difficult to walk through and snow covering the sidewalk that turns into slush. 

You’re going back to your dorm after your last class of the day, now being 7 p.m.. You have to walk a couple of minutes to reach your dorm and you thank yourself for thinking to bring mittens because the tip of your fingers are already starting to get numb. 

Finally getting to the sidewalk, you notice a car parked near the curb. It’s on, the lights illuminating the street, the driver still inside the vehicle, possibly waiting for someone. You don’t pay too much mind to it, passing by the car to get to your dorm.

But the sound of the engine stopping alerts you, though you don’t halt your walk, your heart accelerates a little. 

When you hear the distant sound of footsteps hitting the sidewalk covered in thick sleet, you involuntarily speed up your steps, trying to remain somewhat calm. For some reason, you can’t help but get a slight negative feeling at the suspicious person behind you, thinking they might be following you towards the entrance of your dorm.

You’re soon reaching the stairs, but before you can even register what’s happening, you’re suddenly being pulled back by your bicep. You gasp out of surprise, your heart now beating fast in your chest, hearing it pounding painfully in your skull.

The person grunts when you try to escape from their bruising grip, but they’re too strong for you to do anything to defend yourself. You’re about to scream at the top of your lungs, hoping for someone in your building to hear you and maybe push your aggressor off of you, but as his face comes into view, you shut up immediately.

You don’t recognize him at all, but his features are distracting you from what is going on, giving him the advantage to cover your mouth with his palm. He turns you back around and slips his free arm over your waist, forcing you to walk to the same car you saw seconds prior.

You reach the vehicle in a few steps and tears run down your face as you feel totally helpless, the small translucent pearls piling at the base of his fingers. You squirm against his firm chest, attempting to hit him in the stomach with your elbows, but they’re too short to touch him. 

He groans out of frustration, opening the back door and gripping your hair with his fist. He lowers your head so he can push you in, your torso hitting the leather seats first. 

He immediately joins you in the backseat, crawling on top of you, his knees on each side of your body. He pulls something out of his pocket hurriedly as you kick your legs and scream for help when you notice him ripping a piece of the tape he just took out. He takes a hold of your hair once again, nails digging into your scalp, and muffles down your cries with the grey duct tape. 

After that, he brings both of your hands behind your back, taping them together with the same adhesive he used for your mouth. You can hear the thumping of your heart in your rib cage and the tired sobs you let out, sensing something hard poking against your ass, eyes widening as you can only imagine it being his bulge. 

He puts his two feet on the ground outside and you eagerly try to move your head so you can see what he’s doing. He’s wrapping the grey tape over your ankles covered by your black tights.

You can’t process what’s happening to you, not believing that this is reality, trying to convince yourself you’re just having an awful nightmare. The position he has you in is uncomfortable, throat hurting from all your screams and calls for help.

He gets back in, but this time he shuts the door behind him. He has you totally fragile and defenceless underneath him. You can’t do anything when a burning desire spurs him on to reach under your skirt and tug down on your tights and panties. It seems like he doesn’t want to waste any time, easily sliding your clothes down your legs, leaving them bare nude under his perverted gaze. 

You cry and squirm avidly, shaking your head from side to side when you hear the sound of his fly being dragged down, pertinently knowing what he’s about to do to you.

You feel the head of his cock pushing at your entrance not long after. You let out a muffled moan of pain, the burning sensation between your legs hurting a lot. He only grunts, sinking his member deeper into your pussy, dismissing your loud cries. 

He picks up your hips, bringing your ass flushed against his hairy pelvis. 

“I knew it’d be a tight fit, but fuck,” he groans out, your tightness refraining him from going feral on your poor body. “How tiny are you?”

He plants a foot on the ground of the car, his other leg bent at the knee beside you. 

You almost yell—if it wasn’t for the piece of duct tape on your mouth—when he first snaps his hips against your butt, reaching really deep inside of you. He can’t control himself as he drives his cock in you back and forth right away, his movements impatient and uncoordinated. 

You bawl your eyes out, tears rolling over your cheeks and down to the grey tape covering your lips, making it less sticky. The side of your face is pressed down on the car seat, having no use of your arms since they are tied up behind your back. 

He grabs your asscheeks from under your skirt, digging his short nails into your flesh, moaning out at the sight of your pussy swallowing his engorged cock, stretching your cunt impossibly wide. His erection is so big compared to you, it’s amazing how you manage to take him anyway, as if you were made for this, made to please him. 

The skin of his thighs slap against yours, the lewd and vulgar sounds of him taking advantage of you echoing in the car. He loves how your hole gets so wet for him, welcoming him in despite his large size. 

Your cries drive him insane, motivating him to go harder and harder, chasing his high like a mad man. The head of his cock keeps rubbing over your g-spot, almost impossible for him to not hit it. You shake under him and begin to cry louder, your walls clenching around him tightly. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he curses out under his breath, feeling his balls tightening. “Gonna make you cum and fill you full of me,” he promises and you know he’s going to stick to his words. 

You don’t want him to make you feel pleasure, and even though the stretch of your pussy is immensely painful—his cock the biggest you’ve ever taken—you feel your orgasm building up at the pit of your stomach. 

He drills his hard cock into you and it’s all it takes for your high to hit you, legs trembling.

He finally steadies his hips over your butt in a loud thud, his skin smacking your own. “Ah! Shit,” he grits his teeth, the spasms of your pussy around his girth sending him over the edge. 

He keeps an arm around your waist to hold you up against him while his other hand comes to lay just beside your head on the leather seat. His cock spurts out thick ropes of cum in you, thrusting two and three times to get everything out, and there’s so much that you feel your tummy blown out. 

You whimper under him, your hole still clenching around him avidly, recovering from your intense orgasm. He sighs above you, panting loudly as he stays inside of you, looking down at where your two bodies connect. 

He slips out just a little, just enough for him to see the white ring around the base of his shaft and his cum threatening to escape your warmth. 

“Mmh, fuck. So cute,” he says, his voice sounding almost desperate, so needy. 

The car smells so much like sex it makes your head spin, the energy slowly leaving your body. You’re tired from everything, from all the crying and the horrible position he has you in; panties and tights pooling at your ankles, back arched for your ass to meet his crotch. 

“You’re a little creamer, baby,” he coos, as if what he said is anything sweet. It seems like the messier it is, the more aroused he is. “Got my cock all slicked up in your cum.”

You moan out when he thrusts back in, and you restart to cry. He’s still fully hard and so he doesn’t want to waste any time, fucking his cock into your pussy again. He goes rough on you and you think he doesn’t really realize how his eagerness turns him almost violent. 

He leans his chest down over your back, pounding his cock into your poor, soppy pussy, loud squelching noises coming from it each time he slides in and out. 

“God, you’re so tight, I can't get enough…” He growls in your ear, his fleshy lips touching the shell of your ear. “Pussy’s too good.”

Your cunt is so sensitive, already swollen, and him sliding his dick into you is so painful, your glossy eyes making you look so pathetic and weak.

He overstimulates himself as well, being too deep into ecstasy to stop his hip thrusts. You can hear him hissing at the pain he inflicts on himself, forcing another orgasm from the both of you. 

He cums a second time, and you do too just seconds after, cunt repeatedly closing around him. This orgasm feels more intense than the precedent, and it feels good, too shamefully amazing. 

He releases himself in you and there is less cum than the first time, but still enough to dribble out of your pussy, running down your inner thighs and staining his leather seats underneath you.

His lips remain close to your face, murmuring vulgar things into your ear and mouthing on your jaw, descending to your neck, going back up to your damp cheeks. He even traces the shape of your lips above the shiny grey duct tape, kissing you everywhere he can, leaving wet trails behind. 

He makes you orgasm for a third time, stimulating your puffy and aching clit till your high shoots through you. He does too later on, filling your pussy up to the brim. When he slips out, he can see how messy you are now, how he totally ruined your adorable princess parts. 

He passes his middle finger through your dewy folds, loving the sight of you covered in his cum, acknowledging how his entire cock is smeared in your cream, too. 

You sniffle as you hear him stuffing himself back up in his pants, zipping his fly up. You lay there uselessly, too tired to think about anything specific or attempt to fight for your escape again. That’d be foolish. 

He pulls back up your black tights and panties, not caring that your underwear is going to be all soiled in both of your releases. “All better now,” he sings when your legs are hidden again. 

He then steps out of the car and you take the opportunity to turn on your back with a lot of effort. 

You perceive his silhouette getting around the vehicle through the window, getting in the driver seat. He starts the engine and you think only about the worse. You’re done for, this is your last few moments of life. This man is probably about to drive you to a deserted area and kill you. 

As he drives away from the dorm building, you make eye contact with him through the rear mirror and your heart skips a beat when you see his face again. 

His eyes are captivating, dark orbs looking at you like he knows this is just the beginning. 

You don’t know why he chose you, why it had to happen to you, and you feel like you’ll never know the reason why. 

He breaks eye contact and reports his attention to the road, driving you to an unknown location. 

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

After a twenty minute car ride of pure silence, the vehicle abruptly stops. You watch as he turns off the car, taking the key from the ignition. 

He steps out of the car and you hear him pulling on the handle to open the door above your head. You feel the cold breeze hitting your skin, an uncomfortable shiver running up your spine. You don’t have time to see his face again nor the place where he parked the car before he covers your eyes with a piece of cloth, tying it behind your head. 

You try to speak when you feel him picking you up, but of course your words are inaudible because of the tape muffling your voice. 

The most you can do is thrash your tied legs around, which is completely useless at this point. However, you do earn a disapproving groan from him when you kick a little too hard into his abdomen.

“Stop it.”

You freeze at the sound of his voice, his husky tone making goosebumps appear on your skin. What freaks you out, though, is the mention of your name after his warning. 

He knows you. It could have never been somebody else, he picked you because he had the intention to do so. 

You imagine him carrying you in bridal style, feeling one arm under your knees and the other around your waist. It feels weird to be so close to him in a non-sexual way, sensing the warmth of his hands and the thickness of his winter coat against your side. You have no idea who he is, yet you can hear and feel the pace of his breath. 

You guess he’s walking up stairs, then the jingling of keys and a door opening is being heard, a front of warm air hitting your freezing body. You figure that you’re in some sort of house or apartment. Or whatever place he’s decided to take you to. 

You can clearly decipher the sound of his boots walking on a wooden floor, slightly creaking with each heavy step he takes, making the situation even more stressful than it is.

You’re tossed onto a mattress, your body bouncing as it hits the soft surface. The piece of cloth covering your eyes is being pulled off, your eyes attempting to adjust to your surroundings. 

“There you go,” he softly murmurs. 

A crease appears between your brows as you have a clear view of his face, as attractive as you remember him to be.

His jaw is perfectly sculpted, giving him a manly look with dark and straight eyebrows that sharpen his expression. His hair is a deep black colour, disheveled and messy, strands going in every direction.

He grins at the way you’re ogling at him, the corner of his lips lifting up, knowing you didn’t expect him to look like this. He’ll take that as a compliment.

You’re too entranced by his looks to notice him grabbing your ankles, slowly peeling the tape from your trapped legs. Your heart is beating faster, anticipating what he’s going to do. He’s freeing you, but you believe it’s only to do something else to you that you surely won’t enjoy. 

Oh, that’s such a lie, you tell yourself, remembering the three orgasms he got from you effortlessly. 

“We’re gonna get you rid of that, hm?” He proposes—talking about your two hands tied together—even though he’s still going to execute himself anyway. It’s not like you can give him consent, especially when your mouth is still taped. 

He unwraps it easily, helping you remove your boots and coat after once it’s gone. He sneaks his hands under your skirt and his fingers touching your hips makes you jump. You grab his wrists and he pauses for a moment, staring at your hands that are much smaller than his. It’s the first time you’ve deliberately touched him. 

But he rapidly recollects his thoughts, pulling your panties down your legs. He isn’t so careful while he undresses you, even more tears falling down from your reddened eyes. Your attempts to fight him are all useless, and you feel very defenceless against him, like you’re just wasting your breath. 

“I thought I told you to stop?” 

His voice reaches your ears, swallowing hard when he discards your black tights and your pair of underwear away on the floor. You form fists with your hands, closing your legs tightly so he can’t touch your private parts. 

He tries to pull your thighs apart, but you shake your head from side to side, desperately showing your disagreement. 

He catches onto it to your relief. “What’s wrong, pretty? Got something to tell me?” You then nod your head, glossy, red eyes looking at him through wet eyelashes. “Okay, okay…” 

You wince when he rips the thick duct tape from your mouth, your upper lip stinging from the fast removal.

“Sorry,” he apologizes kindly, extending his arm up toward your face to rub your numb lips gently. They’re slightly covered by your saliva, but he doesn’t seem to mind, passing his large digit over your flesh. “Better, now?”

You sniff and bounce your head as a yes. His change of behaviour surprises you, but somehow you believe he really does care about you. Not in a particularly normal way, though. 

You feel like you have to listen to him, be obedient because you don’t know what to expect of him and also because you clearly have no other choice. Your hopes of getting away are gone, and even if you do find the strength to fight again, you don’t know if it’s worth it. It’s like he already possesses a part of you that you’ll never get back. 

“Can you not… touch me there? I- I’m really hurting, and I…” You babble out shamefully, looking down at your feet to avoid his serious gaze fixated on you. 

“Are you really now? Poor girl,” he empathizes, faking a pout, or maybe he actually pities your condition. 

He reaches for your thigh and separates it from the other. You let him manhandle you, biting down on your lip to hold back your tears that are threatening to fall once again. 

He looks at your pussy and passes his thumb through your lips gently. He’s crouched down in front of you so he can see how your hole indeed is still stretched to the size of his cock.

“Shit, you really are swollen,” he says almost pitifully as if he isn’t the reason for your pain. You’re embarrassed at the fact that he’s openly inspecting your bruised pussy, his index finger running between your puffy lips. He occasionally rubs your gaping hole, your legs twitching from the sensitivity.

“Please,” you beg, having a little hope that he’ll spare you. 

He hums pensively, still having his eyes on your cunt, a sentiment of satisfaction passing through him when he sees some of his remains leaking from you. “I have an idea,” he states, standing up. 

Your eyes widen a bit at his words, not knowing if his idea will benefit your tired state or not. 

You then watch him undressing in front of you and you gulp, guessing what his idea might be. As he passes his t-shirt over his head, he looks at you, frowning his brows. “You need to take off your shirt, too. Plus, it’s all wrinkled.”

Not again, you think to yourself. The thought of enduring another sexual act with him makes you want to sob. You stop giving him the benefit of the doubt that he’d be somewhat normal with you.

“Why…?” You question, your voice shaky and on the verge of tears. 

He doesn’t seem to like that, but he keeps his composure nonetheless. “Why what? Come on, I'll help you, then.” He wastes no time in swatting your hands away to lift up your shirt at the hem, ultimately getting you naked for him. 

He steps out of his pants, shrugging them away on the floor, joining his winter coat and boots. Only in his boxers, his bulge looks huge, and you know pertinently that it is. How he can still be hard and horny, you don’t want to know. 

He slips out of his underwear pretty soon after and you feel anxious. Maybe it’s excitement, but you can’t really describe how you’re feeling with proper words. It’s so… abnormal. Nothing you’ve experienced before. 

He backs up a little, keeping eye contact with you while he strokes his cock to be fully hard. “Lay back down on the bed,” he orders and you do so, pushing yourself to the center of the mattress to lie on your back, totally naked, hair sprawled on his grey sheets.

He bites down on his lip as he watches you get in this new position. Under the dim light of the room, his skin looks flawless, collarbones really defined and hollowed. His biceps are big and you know it’s why it was so easy for him to carry you from the car to the interior of this place. 

Your stomach churns in a mix of anticipation and stress, wondering what he has in mind. 

When he joins you on the bed, his knees dipping into the soft mattress, your hands become sweaty and you gulp down, nervosity settling in your body. You could try to fight him, or at least escape his grip, but you don’t. 

He straddles your body, going up to your chest, his cock only centimetres away from your face. You then realize what he wants to do, and you doubt he’ll do it gently. He has no reason to be.

“I wonder what your mouth can do…” He says rather to himself than to you, his right hand holding his cock at the base and the left going to grip the back of your head. “If it’s as good as that tight cunt. Wanna let me find out, mh, baby?” 

He guides the tip of his erection to your mouth and you reluctantly part your swollen lips, opening your mouth just enough for him to fit his bulbous head inside. 

“Yeah… Just like that,” he approves, inserting more of himself in your warmth. 

He lifts your head up so he can slide inside of you entirely, your sore lips meeting his pubic bone, the sharp hair on his pelvis brushing up against your nose. You look up at him with glossy eyes when he groans out loud at the sensation of his cock nestled all the way in your throat, gritting his teeth and his dark eyebrows knitting together.

He keeps your head in place over his shaft, your throat contracting around him when you gag a little from the deep intrusion. 

You tap your hand repetitively against his naked thigh, signaling for him to let you breathe. He doesn’t look like he cares that much, growling at how warm your mouth is. You tap again, only for him to get your palm away with his that was previously holding the base of his cock. 

“Shh, I know you can take it, pretty.”

You loudly whine as a protest, hoping it will at least get him to pull out. The saliva drips out of your mouth, leaking down towards his balls and his upper thighs. You sense his cock twitching in your mouth, surely pleased to be weighing down on your wet and warm tongue. 

After a few more seconds of his cock lodged in your throat, he quickly pulls out when you gag and shake your head. 

You wheeze, coughing and inhaling heavily in an attempt to catch your breath. He smiles at this, finding your struggle to take him adorable. 

“See, wasn’t so bad, don’t you think?” 

You don’t dare to make eye contact with him, already feeling the cocky smirk on his lips.

He grabs your jaw, forcing you to turn face to his hard cock when he uses his other hand to guide it back into your mouth. You show some resistance, but it’s useless as he makes his way in, forcing your lips apart by squishing your face between his fingers. 

You feel your core heating up despite the situation, clenching your thighs to at least ease the ache between your legs. You take him all, not having any other choice anyway as he forces his length down your mouth, making your eyes sting and your throat burn. 

He starts thrusting in back and forth, letting out moans and grunts that show how pleasurable this feels for him. He won’t stop until he’s satisfied. 

As he literally fucks your mouth, he throws his head back, sucking air through his teeth, controlling himself to not cum in your mouth right away. His dark hair sticks to his forehead because of the sweat, some strands dangling in front of his piercing eyes, wet at the ends. 

He keeps his gaze on you, precisely the way his engorged cock enters your mouth, your lips wrapping around his shaft tightly, all coated in spit and, as unpleasant as it sounds, remains of your earlier intercourse. All you want to do right now is to take a hot shower and scrub the traces of him off of your skin. 

But you doubt you’d get everything off as he’ll forever be engraved in your mind. 

You place your hands on the top of his thighs, finding it difficult to follow the pace of his hip thrusts, your fingers clenching into fists. 

His hand that was holding your jaw is now on its previous spot on the back of your head, gripping your roots and keeping you still. Saliva accumulates at the corners of your mouth and you hate the damp feeling, hate how dirty and soiled you feel. Hate it even more when you know he loves it. 

“Ah, fuck,” he chokes out, his hips stuttering and his grip tightening around your hair. Your eyebrows knit together at the hold he has on your head, forcing you to keep his cock in your throat. You know it's going to hurt badly after. 

With a twitch of his cock, he releases himself down your throat, the salty taste of his cum hitting your tongue. He slips out of you and some of his cum drips down at the corners of your lips. 

“Swallow,” he instructs, wiping off the rest with his thumb, waiting for you to swallow before putting his digit in your mouth so you can lick everything off. 

You follow his order, sucking his thumb and swallowing again. 

“Good girl,” he praises and pats your cheek. 

You recall the eye contact you shared back in the car through the rear mirror, one that meant ‘it’s only the beginning’.  

You know now that tonight was just the start. Of what, you’re still wondering. 

You can’t escape as he has his arms wrapped around your naked body, his soft cock nudging your back, his chin resting on top of your head. You’re not sure if you found any sleep, but you haven’t dreamt. Or maybe you’re already in one, it’s just harder for you to wake up from it. 

You wait for the sun to arrive, or secretly wish it would never so you would slowly morph with the mattress and make one. 

The alarm setting off pulls him out of slumber and your heart palpitates at the thought of having him off of you, but this euphoric feeling doesn’t last long as he leaves you alone in the room to go somewhere. 

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Sore. 

The only word you can use to describe how you feel right now. An intense feeling of grogginess takes over as you wake up, your head pounding heavily.

You wish you could say it was only a nightmare. A sick and twisted dream you’ve just endured. However, you physically and mentally can’t say that. Your swollen eyes start to well up with salty tears as you look around the unfamiliar dimly lit room and bed you lay in, remembering the sick events that took place almost a day prior. 

You’re cold. A thin grey sheet covering your trembling body, the feeling grosser than ever when you feel something damp in your underwear, threatening to seep down your thighs. 

You begin to sob when you realize what it is. You can’t forget the way he handled you like you were some type of object, just a toy for him to use. You hated that you also came multiple times,  you couldn’t help how your body was reacting to him.

The bed is empty, you’re left by yourself to be eaten alive by your thoughts. You fear for when he returns from wherever he currently is, scared he may try to do something to you again but even rougher than the first time.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the bedroom door creaking open. You immediately shut your eyes before you can see the figure standing in the doorway. Your face is tear stained, but you still attempt to make it seem like you are still asleep.

You hold your breath when the sound of footsteps get closer to the bed, even scarier when they stop. The next thing you know a hand is smoothing out your hair, their fingers running from your hairline down to your jaw. Their hand moves to wipe your visible tears and a wave of chills hits you at the feeling.

You slowly open your eyes, trying to register the face of the person in front of you.

It's not the same guy as before.

This one has brown wavy hair, delicate features and heart-shaped lips.

“Good, you’re awake.” The unfamiliar man speaks up after a minute of pure silence since he’s walked in. 

You are speechless, not wanting or knowing what to say. Does he already know what happened? Is he in on this too?

You remain silent, the most you can do is tear up once again as you’re scared of what is yet to come.

“Get up, you need a shower,” is all that leaves his mouth before he begins to pull the sheet from your frail body. His authoritative words make you flinch a bit, but you don’t have the energy to fight back.

He encourages you to get up with a sign of his hand and you execute yourself with difficulty, the bones in your body cracking, making you wince in pain. You can’t ignore the messy state that you are in, shivering as the temperature of the room feels very cold. This situation embarrasses you so much. 

He notices your struggle to lift yourself from the bed, leading him to take matters into his own hands and lift you from the mattress. You are surprised at how he isn’t dragging you around like a pet, but his grip on you is assertive. 

You feel your face heating up at the fact that your chest is pressed up against his firm one. You immediately pass your arms around his neck as one of his arms wraps around your back, the other one under your butt, your legs still dangling in the air.

He walks only a few steps out of the bedroom and down the hall before opening the new door with his hand that was previously over your back. You enter a rather small bathroom like he’s told you before in the bedroom. 

He puts you down and you manage to find your balance, even though you still struggle a bit. He makes his way to the shower and turns on the faucet. He comes back to you as the water heats up, yet he doesn’t leave. 

“W-what are you doing?” You stumble over your words when his hands find their way to the hem of your shirt, threatening to expose your naked body. He stops and stares at you blankly.

“You’re shaking like a leaf, you obviously can’t stand on your two feet let alone take care of yourself.” He states firmly. You’re not some little girl who can’t do anything on your own, you’re a grown woman.

“No, I got it.” You speak without a second thought. 

He arcs an eyebrow up, as if not believing you. “And what will happen if you trip over and knock your head into the counter? Have you seen yourself?” 

You swallow. You dare to look at yourself in the mirror above the sink, and you aren’t looking good at all. He has a point, but you still don’t want to undress yourself in front of a stranger.

“I’m just here to make sure you don’t hurt yourself. I won’t do anything.” 

You don’t answer for a few seconds, debating in your head. It wouldn’t be smart to trust him, but it’s not like you have a choice, and anyway, right now you prefer him over the other guy… 

You start to pull your shirt over your head with a burning face, avoiding his gaze at all cost. You feel extremely humiliated as you slip out of your panties.

He doesn’t show any signs of lust, actually having a calm and composed expression. You shouldn’t get fooled, though, because he could be good at hiding his true emotions. 

You cover your naked breasts with your arms, keeping your legs closed so he can’t get a good look at your private parts. “I can wash myself. Can you, please, leave?”

“Whatever. I’ll get you some clothes,” he replies, rolling his eyes. He looks at you one last time before saying, “My name’s Haechan, by the way.” 

And with that, he actually leaves. He closes the door behind him, which relieves you a little bit. He at least agreed to give you some privacy. It’s nice of him, you think, but you shouldn’t get high hopes. 

You step into the hot water, your cold limbs feeling more relieved as you stand directly under the shower head. You wet your entire body, about to reach for the body wash when the sound of the bathroom door opening catches your attention.

“I got you some clothes, this is all I have for you right now.” Haechan calls over the sound of the shower running while setting the folded clothes on the bathroom counter. Yet he isn’t showing any signs of leaving.

“Hm, okay, thanks… Can you let me finish first, please?” You plead while watching his form move behind the shower curtain. 

He’s not moving towards the door though, but closer to you. As you wait for him to leave, he unexpectedly pulls the curtains to the side and your eyes open wide in surprise when he joins you completely naked. 

That’s why he wasn’t leaving, he was stripping down from his clothes, having the intention to enter the shower with you. He absolutely ignored your words of leaving you alone. 

You move back instantly, your body hitting the cold tiles of the shower. You again cover yourself with your arms, keeping your mouth sealed shut, paralyzed.

He’s imposing, even more when naked. You can’t help but stare at him, unable to look at the bottom half of his body, too embarrassed and still shocked by his sudden inappropriate behaviour. 

However, he doesn’t seem to think there's a problem, instead reaches for the body wash just as you were about to do. 

“Just wanna help you,” he explains, big eyes looking back at you. He looks so serene, and you hate that nothing seems to destabilize him. “Turn around,” he instructs and when you don’t budge an inch, he grabs your arm and moves you himself. You gasp at his straightforwardness, your mind already telling you this won’t end well. He’s already lied to you once, so there's a high chance he’s done it again.

He squeezes the soap into a white loofah, moving your wet hair to scrub your backside, making sure to not miss any part. He moves down to your arms, working his way up to your tits. He slowly drags the loofah back and forth over your pebbled nipples, catching on the way your breath hitches when he does. 

After a minute of solely washing your breasts, he brings the loofah to your stomach, each scrub leading his hand lower on your hips.

Haechan suddenly discards the scrubber, his hands sinking down to your private parts. He places his head onto your shoulder, his wet hair tickling your neck. You try to shove him off of you, but his grip on you isn’t budging, his hand already cupping your pussy.

“You- you said you were just washing me,” you frantically spit out, grabbing at his arm that’s on your mound. Instead of answering you, he takes his free arm and crosses it over waist, trapping both of your arms under him.

He takes his pointer and middle finger to spread your swollen cunt open for him to observe. You feel so exposed, so played that he lied to you again after using the excuse of ‘just wanting to help you’ to get his way with you.

“Shit. Jeno didn’t go easy on you, huh?” 

Jeno. So that is the name of the one who got his hands first on you. 

You’re quickly snapped out of your thoughts when his index finger makes contact with your clit, pussy clenching involuntarily at the feeling.

“Please, just… stop,” you pathetically beg for him to move his hands. Yet all you get from him is his heavy breathing, and something poking your asscheek.

“You’re sensitive as fuck. Look at you,” he comments as he sees your legs twitching with every rub he gives your throbbing clit, hole slicking up at the stimulation.

Not being able to wait much longer, Haechan removes his fingers from your pussy, pushing the arch of your back lower, grabbing his now fully erect cock while opening your legs a bit wider than before with his leg.

“No, stop… Please, don’t,” your words are rushed when he forcefully pushes himself inside your swollen cunt. 

His thrusts are rough, almost knocking the air out of your lungs. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to his large size, which leads your hole to violently clench around him, making it harder for him to control himself.

“Jeno already dealt with you, how are you still so small?” he says through clenched teeth, his hand going to grab at your jaw, squishing your lips and cheeks. 

He forcefully lifts your head up to look at him, leaving you no other choice than to make eye contact. 

“N-no, stop, it hurts,” you try to speak when your mouth is being crushed in between his long fingers. He doesn’t listen to you though, repeatedly slamming his cock into you from behind, his pelvis hitting your ass with force within every thrust.

The water is still warm, running down both of your bodies, disregarding the fact that you need to clean yourself. You feel your orgasm building up in the pit of your stomach, his cock hitting the right places. You hate that it's starting to feel good, you’re not supposed to be turned on by this.

Before you can reach the edge, Haechan pulls his cock out of you, leaving your hole empty and gaping. Yet not being able to utter a single word, your body is turned around and he kneels in front of you, his face directly in front of your crotch.

He gives your clit some attention, throbbing when his tongue licks a full stride over it. 

You surprise yourself when your hand travels down to grip his wet wavy hair. He eats your cunt like a starved man, his nose replacing his tongue when he finds his way back to your hole.

“Tastes better than I imagined, baby, fuck,” he groans before shoving his face back into your sopping pussy. 

You slightly grind your hips on his face, feeling him smile against your pussy. You’re shocked at how quick you’re about to reach your orgasm, Haechan sliding his fingers inside of you to bring you to the edge even faster.

He speeds up the pace of his fingers that are hitting your sweet spot, his mouth sucking harshly on your clit, desperate for you to cum on his face. Your hole clenches repeatedly at the feeling, unable to hold it in anymore, you finally reach your high.

Haechan fucks his fingers into you through your orgasm, your legs tightening around his head. Your hand on his hair shakes weakly, moaning at the feeling of his lips being still on your cunt, tongue flicking your bud of nerves from side to side. 

He stands back up and passes your legs around his waist. You moan out at the stretch in this new position, your pussy taking every inch he gives you even though you are sensitive from your first orgasm. Both of your naked chests rub together when he pushes himself closer to maintain the same eye contact as before. His stomach clenches at the feeling, thrusts sloppier than they were previously. 

A small whimper escapes your lips that you tried so hard to keep from leaving your throat. Your walls tighten up around Haechan while he never slows down his thrusts, fucking you to reach his own orgasm.

“Yeah, baby. Gonna fucking make me cum too.” 

He fucks into your spent pussy sloppily which has you wincing in overstimulation. The pain doesn’t last much longer when you feel his thick ropes of cum filling your cunt.

“Shit, yeah. Like it when I fill you, huh?” He groans into your ear, his soaking wet hair brushing against your face.

His thrusts finally stop when he pulls out of you, cum quickly escaping your bruised pussy. He backs you up from the wall to set you down back onto your feet, legs shaking from how intense he fucked you.

Without a word, he brings your body forward to the shower head, rinsing your body. He rubs his hands over your body, slowly inching down to your swollen pussy as he cleans it of his cum gently. Your face can’t help but heat up at the action, you wouldn’t have expected him to give you aftercare. 

He leans over, turning the faucet off and steps out of the shower first. He grabs a towel from the cabinets to wrap around his waist, and another to wrap around your shivering body. 

You’re still shaking, barely being able to get out of the tub. He places his hands under your underarms, helping you out of the tub, your feet meeting the cold floor. He’s about to unwrap the towel from you when you tighten your grip around it. 

“I’ve got you, don’t worry,” he reassures you. You loosen your hand from the hem of the towel, letting him take care of it.

He undoes the towel from your body, beginning to dry you off. No one has done this for you ever, so you don’t know what to do with yourself. 

Once you’re dried off completely, he leans over to grab the t-shirt for you to wear. 

“Arms up,” he instructs when he pulls the shirt over your head, helping you to slip it on. He grabs a pair of black boxers you assume are his for you to wear. 

Once he slips the underwear onto you, he wraps his arms around your torso, kissing your jaw and down your neck. You’re flustered, but you don’t make an effort to lean into his touch. How can you react to that after what he’s done to you in the shower. 

The sound of the front door being unlocked interrupts the moment between the pair of you. Haechan removes his arms from around you and grabs a pair of sweatpants from the counter, slipping them on quickly.

“Jeno’s back,” he says nonchalantly. In all honesty, you are most afraid of Jeno out of the two men for obvious reasons.

That night, you slept between them— you really only closed your eyes. They didn’t give you a choice, nor a reason, but you think it’s in case you try anything. You could have a slight chance against one of them. The both of them, though, you have zero.

You’ve slept with them for a few weeks, then they’ve decided they wanted you alone. 

Jeno is very clingy and attached. You suppose it’s because he’s the one who knew you before. You don’t have much information about what happened before the first night. No matter how much you insist, they always refuse to tell you anything. 

Haechan is more authoritative than Jeno. Much less clingy, but still at an unhealthy level of obsession for you. 

You start to adjust to how things work between the two boys and their routines.

Haechan is with you the majority of the day since you’re asleep in the mornings he has class and awake when Jeno goes to his own. It's as if they have you in ‘shifts’, not ever letting you have alone time or any privacy. 

Haechan never lets you out of his sight, forcing you to be in the room with him at all times. His standards are very strict for you, like his ‘no TV or phone’ rule unless he’s there. 

No matter what you do, you are left with no way to reach the outside world. It drives you crazy having to live with constant unanswered questions since they refuse to give you any answers.

“I miss my family,” you mumble under your breath, playing with the food on your plate, which you know angers Haechan a lot. 

“Stop playing with your food and eat it before it gets cold.” Haechan responds, completely ignoring your comment. 

He side-eyes you and you keep looking at your plate, not acknowledging his command, getting him irritated. Jeno, on the other hand, gives you a sad look with pouty lips, having pity for you.

“Do they even know where I am, if I’m even alive?” You pick at the topic more, not daring to coward away from Haechan’s irritated look. 

“Baby, why are you thinking about that right now? Just eat.” Jeno coos, going to reach for your shoulder when you dodge his touch. 

You groan at him and he doesn’t like this at all, hating when you avoid his touch. You know you’re making both of them angry, but it isn’t any of your fault. They shouldn’t be the ones mad, it should be you. 

That's when you’ve had enough of their silence. Instead of constantly bombarding them with questions you know they’ll just brush off, you decide to ignore them entirely. Not making eye contact, constantly refusing their commands, and not eating. 

“Don’t give into her whims, Jeno. It's just gonna give her ideas.” Haechan speaks, making stern eye contact with Jeno. You can tell this is something that they’ve discussed before. It was inevitable you’d get curious and ask questions.

You get up to push out of your chair, leaving your untouched plate on the table. You know not finishing your food will strike a nerve.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Haechan raises his voice, causing you to flinch at his loud tone.

“Obviously nowhere. I can’t leave this stupid place!” You point out as if it isn’t clear enough for them to know.

Haechan matches your action and gets up too, disregarding your full plate.

“Watch your tone. You’re the one who’s asking pointless questions. Sit your ass back down and finish eating.” 

“No! I can’t, I don't want to!” You reply back right away, your eyes starting to water. “I want to know, that’s all I want,” you explain to them almost desperately, almost begging. 

Jeno tries to cool down the situation.

“Let’s all just calm down, okay? I’m sure you’re hungry, baby,” he speaks to you softly, even though you made him upset as well. 

“No, I won't calm down. It isn’t fair!” you heave, controlling your tears in an effort to not to seem weak.

“Yes, you will,” Haechan intervenes, “because if you don’t you’ll regret it. Don’t underestimate what I’ll do, understand?” 

“You both have done enough to me but you draw the line at me asking about my family? Just leave me alone.”

“Where is this even coming from? We give you everything, so stop being ungrateful.” Haechan argues back.

Deflecting from the subject, one of the things he’s best at. You hate when he does it, but you don’t want to fight with him. You physically and mentally can’t. 

“You don’t understand! You ripped me away from my family and school. You took everything away, and I’ll never get my life back! The worst thing about this is not knowing anything…”

You can’t hold it in when sobs escape your mouth. You aren’t able to stand up on your feet anymore and let yourself fall down on the floor, curling up on yourself. 

As if a switch flips in their minds, they both come rushing towards you. Jeno is the first to crunch down at your level, worry and pity plastered on his face. He comforts you with his embrace while Haechan looks guilty, nibbling down on his lip. 

After that day, you’ve learned to not question them about anything associated with your past life. All it did was lead to big arguments and lost trust from you. You’ve come to terms that this is your life from now on, whether you like it or not.

[littlelamy]

r.i.p pink thong

lamy's note: a little drabble inspired and credited to @nemesyaaa ! AHHH i really hope you like it

you barely had time to smirk before rafe was on you, his fingers gripping the delicate fabric draping over your body, his breath hot against your throat.

“you’re really gonna wear this in front of everyone?” his voice was rough, low, thick with something dark and possessive. his fingers tugged at the barely-there thong, the gemstones glittering under the dim light of his bedroom. you felt the tension coil in his muscles, the way his jaw clenched as his eyes roamed over you.

“it’s just a performance, rafe,” you teased, tilting your head, the slow smirk on your lips only fueling the storm in his blue eyes. “it’s burlesque, not a strip show.”

he exhaled sharply, his grip tightening at your waist, dragging you closer until your bodies pressed together, heat searing through the thin fabric. “doesn’t fucking matter,” he muttered. “you’re mine.”

his hands traced up your torso, grazing the sparkling pasties covering your breasts, his fingers flexing before gripping the edges. with a sharp tug, they ripped away, the adhesive barely putting up a fight against his impatience. you gasped, shivering at the sudden exposure, at the way his gaze darkened further, his pupils blown wide.

his mouth crashed against yours before you could protest, a messy, desperate kiss that stole the air from your lungs. his hands were ruthless, roaming, grasping, fists curling into the fragile costume you spent hours assembling.

“rafe—” your words dissolved into a breathy moan as he hooked his fingers under the delicate straps of your thong, giving it one last appreciative look before tearing it away with a brutal snap. the gemstones and lace fluttered uselessly to the floor, discarded like everything else that wasn’t his touch on your bare skin.

“fuck this,” he growled, eyes devouring you now, his hands possessive as they mapped your curves. “you’re not wearing this for anyone else.”

his lips trailed down your jaw, over your throat, marking his claim with every bite and kiss. you whimpered as he pressed you against the wall, the cold surface a sharp contrast to the heat raging between you.

“you really are a jealous little thing, aren’t you?” you murmured, the challenge laced in your tone making him let out a low chuckle before his teeth scraped against your collarbone.

“only when it comes to you, baby,” he whispered, his voice dripping with possessive hunger. his hands traced lower, a silent promise that he wasn’t done proving his point.

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[madamechrissy]

Preview for Pour it Up - part two! -(Dropping tomorrow night!)

Stripclub Sukuna x Stripper reader- MDNI- teasing/mentions of sex, Sukuna being down BAD

“You look upset. Who do I need to kill?” You almost laugh, but he raises a brow, god how are this man’s eyebrows attractive!? You sigh then, stepping closer, naked aside from your panties, and you feel his eyes dart to your bare breasts.

“I’m much happier now.” You murmur, he sighs then, a big hand on your waist, taking you over, thumb slipping against the swell of your lower breast.

“Yeah, why?” He mutters, so gruffly, already throbbing hard under his slacks, as he thinks of everything he wants to do.

“Because you’re touching me.” Your vulnerability almost breaks him then, his lips parted in shock, he squeezes tighter, leaning down and cupping your face.

“Did you get the money for your sitter?” He murmurs, and you nod shyly.

“It was too much, but I’m sure she appreciates it.” Your hand comes to grip his strong wrist, heart beating erratically in your chest now.

“And did you eat?”

“Not yet.” You giggle, softly, he sighs then, lips a breath away.

“I’m not fucking kidding, you’ll need the energy.” His words and his tone make your mind wander, just how would it be, to have Sukuna inside you?

“Oh yeah?”

He smirks before chuckling, throwing his head back. “You’re cute, brat, oh yeah.”

“Hey!” You sigh now, stepping back as he eyes your breasts, and you pop your little tassels out of your bag, eyeing him then, watching him drink the sight in. “Wanna help?”

“Shit.” You kill him. Sukuna takes them and presses them, as the little sticky adhesive suctions on, but he’s cupping your breasts in huge hands, as one of the girls, Candy walks in, pausing. “What do you want?” His voice is so terse, it’s just nothing like the man that just asked if you got the hundreds he sent for a sitter and your lunch.

“Um… Mr. Sukuna… could you help me with mine?” She asks then, yanking her tassels off, bare breasted. She makes you tense a bit.

Naoya had cheated over and over, but you and Sukuna were nothing yet, shit you’d just sucked him in his office so far, that’s it. And maybe a hook up tonight? So you can’t be upset if he wishes to, you just look away nervously, leaning forward in the mirror to adjust your makeup and pulling away as he eyes her, so clearly irritated by her presence.

“Ask Toji or something.” He grumbles, before turning you back to him, your eyes glimmer then, with some moisture, making him stutter. “What’s wrong now, shit?”

“No, it’s… your…” You hug him then, making him freeze, as your pretty little body is against him, your breasts so soft on him, he wants to tear you apart, put you back together, make you his. His hands stall though, unsure as you look up at him with tears down your pretty cheeks.

Candy leaves as Sukuna’s mouth opens and shuts. “Brat, what is it?”

“You m-make me feel really… um… it’s stupid…”

“Out with it.”

“Sexy? Pretty? Wanted?” He blinks in confusion then, how could you ever not be, especially with the amount of attention you get here? “I’m not used to this.”

“You know you’re pretty, just… shut up, stop that shit.” He’s swiping at your eyes though, as you elicit emotions that make him insane. “Why’d you feel like you’re not, that brain fried from your kid or something!?”

“No… I just… shitty past.” He sees it then, you’re so hurt from something, and anyone who ever made you feel that way!?

Sukuna would take him the fuck out.

“Whoever says you’re not is trying to fuck with you, fuck your head up, so ignore that shit.” He says softly almost, still a little gruff, cupping your face then. “I have excellent taste, trust mine hmm?”

“Yeah.” Your lip trembles, and Sukuna can’t stop the word from spilling from his lips then.

“Beautiful.”

“I… huh?”

“Shut it.” He kisses you then, and you’re falling against him, pressed on the counter where he can see your back and ass in the mirror, tempting him just as much as your pretty breasts, he moans as he steps between your thighs.

“Did you say beautiful?”

“Shush it, fuck you’re annoying hmm?” You just giggle a bit, and the action does something odd to his heart, god you do something to him.

“Thank you, Mr. Sukuna.”

“Just Sukuna, shit.” He kisses you again before taking a breath, eyeing your body up and down slowly. “Wanna sit on my lap during this meeting? You may… have to have some coke on your body.”

“On me!?”

hehe coming soon

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[tadpolesonalgae]

Dizzying Kisses

Feysand x reader

a/n: this started out so wholesome idk what happened 😭

warning: love at first sight trope; smut; f/f/m threesome; facesitting; oral (everyone); overstim; cumplay—Rhys using reader’s mouth like a shot glass 

word count: 5,491

——————————————————————————————————————————————

It takes a bit of effort to unstick your eyelids from your lash line, but you eventually manage, rubbing at the sleep that’s crusted itself into an abrasive adhesive. 

The sheets beneath you are soft and smooth, fragranced with something like vanilla and jasmine, a faint citrusy scent clinging to its edge and you wearily peer about, vision slightly blurred by a sleep addled brain. 

Early morning sunlight has painted itself across the floorboards in a watery shade of cool-toned yellow, the diamond shaped panes of the glass windows casting thin, zigzagging shadows. The duvet itself seems to be cream covered, nestled beneath a rouge-rimmed quilt, stitched together with patches of dawn-pink, aquamarine-blue, dusky-orange, and tyrian-purple. Four wooden beams uphold the fabric draped overtop the bed, the curtains a shade of burnt orange on the interior, with a dark-red outside that has panels of maroon gossamer thinly veiling the material. A slight frill of burnished gold accents the hem.

A latch clicks from the far right side of the chamber, and you glance away from the window, blinking rapidly to clear away the fog as a female peers her lovely head around the door. 

Not just any female, though. 

You stiffen, hastily scrambling to sit straighter in the bed as you dip your head in a swift bow. “High Lady…” 

She smiles, entering the room, her slipper-clad feet softly scuffing as she approaches. “You’re awake,” she notes, and you flush when she lays her palm across your forehead. “And better, by the looks of it.”

You blink, looking up at her quietly. “My Lady…?” 

“Feyre,” she corrects, blue-grey eyes twinkling with life. “Please call me Feyre.” 

You watch her silently for a second, attention flitting across her features for a clue to your circumstances—are you in her home? But you dip your head again, obeying her request. 

Her eyes soften, and she pulls her hand away, your brow feeling faintly cool in its wake. “Do you remember last night?” She questions, and you shake your head, unease building in your gut as you worry your lower lip. Tuck your teeth away again. 

Feyre hums to herself, her attention briefly skating over you, having not given herself the chance to beforehand. Skimming over your shoulders, the rumpled fabric of your night-gown, the soft roundness of your fingertips. How they’re dipping into the folds of the duvet. “You kissed me,” she says, glancing down at you, lips still curved gently. Mortification sets your skin ablaze, a delicate flame igniting in your flesh. “I— I kissed you?” You stammer, clutching the sheets as your fingers lock. 

“Well, you kissed both of us, actually,” she corrects. 

Your lips part with a sharp inhale, looking aghast. Deeply apologetic. “I— I’m so sorry, my Lady. I don’t know what must have come over me. Please, forgive—”

“We aren’t angry,” she interjects, holding you gaze firmly. She pries your left hand from the quilt, fingers warm and delicate beneath your own. “I believe it was a mistake on your part—the first time at least. Shall I show you? It may jog your memory.” 

There’s nothing much for you to do besides nod, vaguely relaxing back into the padded headboard as she plies open your mind, slipping inside with ease. 

The music is up-beat, strings playing a merry tune while the faelights shift in colour over head, panels of stained glass being slotted over them to give the illusion of the lights themselves changing. 

I turn my head when I feel weakened fingertips seek out my wrist, gripping gently, only to be met with soft, faintly trembling lips being pressed to my own. I recognise the hint of the illegal drug almost immediately, and my eyes widen in time to watch as the female flinches, recoiling sharply. 

At my back, my mate is swiftly approaching, a sure and familiar presence sweeping across the floor. It seems the female has enough sense left in her to recognise the thrumming power of the High Lord that’s already begun seeping across the floor in warning, other fae bodies instinctively making way so as not to catch his brewing mood. 

Instead of cowering though, the female before me seems to panic briefly, before unsteadily tottering forward, making it just close enough to push onto her tiptoes and press a kiss to the High Lord’s jaw, before her legs give out and I’m catching her as she falls back, body limp. 

Surprised violet eyes meet my own, brows raised as he glances down at the female passed out in my arms, head tipped to the side, laying across my breast. 

Your lips are parted wider than they were last, but you don’t shut them. Instead panicking as the memories filter back into your mind, along with a faint pound of a growing headache. “I’m sorry,” you repeat, words tumbling in a frantic wash. “I— I remember seeing what had happened, and I had worried he might think I was trying to— So I wanted to kiss him to show I didn’t mean— Gods I’m so sorry.” An embarrassed flush heats your skin, simmering wickedly just below the surface of your flesh, head dipped in misery and shame. 

“It’s perfectly okay,” the High Lady assures, squeezing your fingers. “I want you to know the male who drugged you has been found and dealt with—he will not be repeating his actions. We also had our healer check the concentration in your blood to make sure you were okay, and thankfully all you needed was a good night’s sleep to get everything out of your system.”

You flush, glancing to where she’s cupping your fingers, then looking at her again. “I’m still sorry for kissing you—both of you—even if there were external pressures…”

Feyre blinks slowly, her smile losing an ounce of its warmth. Barely noticeable, really, but you feel it. “Do you regret it?” 

“I regret causing you discomfort, my L—” Her eyes harden, and you flush. “…Feyre. And your— and for kissing your mate…” 

“And what about on your end?” She asks, tone softened only a little. You look at her questioningly but are unable to read the emotion in her blue-grey eyes. Cunning but deliberately blank. “Do you regret kissing either of us for your own discomfort?” 

“No!” You speak hurriedly. “It’s an honour. I mean, hopefully that doesn’t make you upset to hear. I simply mean, to have been so close with either of you. I’m just so sorry I did what I did… How I did it…” 

“You would have done differently had you been sober?” She asks, her hold tightening on your fingers, pulling your hand closer into her body. 

You hesitate, fumbling. Glancing where her digits have begun twining with your own. 

Feyre follows your gaze, and sighs, hands settling to the bed. 

“My mate and I are divided on the matter,” she tells you, voice lowering to a hushed murmur. A guilty tug on her pretty pink lips. “He would rather give you space and time to warm up to us, since this meeting has happened so fast.” Fingers again squeeze your own, and she looks up at you with a glimmer in her heavy gaze. “But I’ve been on the end of that before, and hadn’t been pleased with his choices.” 

You scan her features, trying to fit together the pieces but have the distinct feeling you’re missing something crucial. A fragment of memory that perhaps hasn’t yet allowed itself to resurface. Eyes flit to the curl of her digits between your own. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand?” 

Feyre pauses in thought, then she presses her hand to your cheek, unlacing it from your fingers. Breath flutters in your chest as your High Lady leans in, her head tilted enough so her lips might slant diagonally across your mouth, and a faintly wavy lock of hair slides from her shoulder, tickling against your collar bones. You can feel each faint exhale. Mark how her pupils dilate, lashes flickering as she glances down at your mouth. 

Your breath catches as something tugs at your rib, a small, tender thread wrapped around the delicate bone. 

“Did you feel that?” Feyre questions, thumb stoking the curve beneath your lip, eyes following with each swipe. “What…what was…?” 

It happens again, and your lungs stutter, mouth parting in awe as you stare at her. 

You worry over voicing your thoughts for fear of reaching the wrong conclusion and only worsening your predicament. To be as brazen as to suggest a possibility that would defy logic and reason, when it’s likely fuelled by your own desires… 

Feyre lays her mouth over your own, the flavour of her lips slightly musky with a hint of berry, and you wonder if she delighted in fruits for breakfast. Perhaps would like to swipe your tongue across the seam of her mouth to taste more of her. To sample more of this delicacy you’ll surely never have the chance of trying again. 

A heady sound echoes in your Lady’s throat when you follow through with your fantasy. Her fingers dig into the soft underside of your jaw, both hands cupping your face to leverage her mouth closer, capturing your lower lip between her teeth and tugging on it gently. She’s close enough you can feel the faint flutter of air that her lashes bat your way. 

Blue-grey eyes simmer with heat as she watches you, thumb stroking across the crest of your cheek before falling to the side of your neck, fingers sifting through strands of hair. With great attentiveness, she strokes her tongue across your own, her heart jumping when your body jolts lightly from the intimate touch, a lovely soft sound captured in your throat. 

Her hands begin to wander. 

At first it’s her thumb skimming across your throat, then she’s grazing her fingertips along the ridge of your collarbone, and then before you know it she’s trailed those nimble digits further, tracing the curve of your breast, knuckles skimming beneath the soft, feminine weight. Your lashes flutter against her cheek, before you’re pulling away to gaze down at where she’s touching you. 

Feyre watches intently to see what you make of the touch. Heat warms your cheeks and your lips part on a trembling inhale, spine curving in an offer—one she’ll contentedly accept. The soft pad of her second finger teasingly circles your covered nipple, before clasping it between the sides of her index and middle finger, rolling. Your breathing deepens, sinking down into the pillows, subtly urging her to lay herself over you. 

It’s when Feyre’s knee is pressing between your thighs, her faintly wavy hair ticklishly brushing your exposed skin—where she’s unbuttoned your night gown to bare your breasts to her—that a firm set of knocks are delivered to the door, a warning rather than a request. Your eyes fly open, arms instinctively slapping across your chest to conceal your breasts, nipples sensitive, and freshly-licked. 

Violet eyes calmly take in your own, and the night comes rushing back, how you’d kissed his mate—accidentally, but it had happened nonetheless—then pressed your lips to his own skin, too. 

You open your mouth to apologise, but Feyre’s talented fingers have linked around your wrists, and you squirm when she pushes them aside, so they sink into the pillows you’re lying on. Expelling a gasp from your lips. 

“Looks like the two of your are becoming well acquainted,” the High Lord muses, stepping into the room, pausing beside the bed, gazing down at you with interest. “Do you mind my being here?” He asks, and you realise he’s bothering to question you. It makes sense, you suppose, you just hadn’t considered it. You flush, but shake your head, lungs stuttering when Feyre returns to your breasts, circling the hardened tip of her tongue over the peak of your right nipple, allowing a small amount of saliva to build before letting it unspool onto you, before repeating the circles. 

“You look to be enjoying her mouth,” Rhysand muses, raising the backs of his fingers to gently skim your cheek, thumb idly swiping the corner of your mouth, dipping to the hollow beneath your lower lip. “Are you?” 

Your flush deepens, thighs squeezing together against Feyre’s knee at the softly intimate touch, something fluttering beneath your ribs from the gentleness of the High Lord’s caress. Teeth pull at the interior of your lip, struggling to get a hold of the wild heat they’re igniting in your lower belly, a tingling feeling spreading between your thighs. 

“Getting shy now?” Feyre coos, unlatching from your nipple much to your dismay. “You were perfectly talkative before… He’s not as scary as he looks.” 

“Scary?” Rhys parrots under his breath, a note of incredulity to be found. Feyre raises an eyebrow as she glances over him, as if challenging him to disagree. But his lips fashion themselves into a mischievous, feline grin, capturing your chin with his fingers, directing your gaze upward to face him. “Would I be less scary without all these clothes on?”

Your face burns, lips parting on a softly stunned inhale, staring up at him in slight bewilderment, his words alone giving rise to a series of involuntary images careening through your mind before you can stop from conjuring them. 

“Rhys,” Feyre scolds, “you’re overwhelming her. She doesn’t know what to do with all that.”

“We can show her.” 

“Rhysand,” Feyre warns, but you can tell it’s playful. You want her attention back on you, sliding a little further down in the pillows so her knee is pressed closer between your legs. Blue-grey eyes mark the shift immediately, and you flush at having been caught, grip tightening in the sheets as you find elsewhere to look. Her rosey lips curve, leaning closer until they’re barely brushing your own, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “Something you want, birdie?” 

You inhale at her proximity, spine stiffening from how close she is, how bare you are beneath her. How exposed. 

You incline your chin almost imperceptibly. 

Feyre smirks, and leans in, once again sealing her lips over yours, and you think she must be a slice of heaven. Your hands depart from the sheets, travelling up her thighs to her hips, spanning her delicate waist. Her hair tickles your shoulder, trailing away when Rhys’s fingers shift the curtain of silky hair, pushing the locks gently out of the way so he can see how his wife is kissing his…

A small noise is captured between your mouths when something tugs at one of your ribs, a delicate thread being plucked that has you jolting. Pulling away. 

“A second mate is unheard of,” Feyre murmurs, looking at you with a mixture of awe and disbelief. “And yet here she is,” Rhys finishes, making you blink, glancing between the two. 

“You said you were honoured,” Feyre continues, drawing your attention back to her. “Are you still of the same mindset?” You stare at her, comprehension dawning as you accept your belief as truth, fantasy merging with reality. “What she’s asking,” Rhysand clarifies, allowing his fingers to fall from Feyre to graze across you collar bone, tracing upward to your jaw, brushing your cheek, “is will you have us.”

“Yes.” It’s softer than a whisper, shorter than a breath, but they feel it. Feel the acceptance without reluctance or hesitation. Falling into their arms.

Feyre’s eyes go briefly hazy as it clicks into place inside of her, a flush of colour rising to her cheeks with biological satisfaction. “Good,” she breathes, “perfect.” 

Her scent has shifted, floating over to you, and instinct tells you exactly what it means. When her blue-grey eyes return to yours, they’re dilated; hungry. Information you should have no access to flowing into your body, innately understanding their states of being. 

“How are you feeling?” Feyre asks, voice huskier than before, dragging with arousal. A heat has begun sprouting in your body, beginning to simmer and bubble, more prominently than before, abruptly taking off. You swallow. Nod your head. 

“What you’re feeling,” Rhysand supplies smoothly, the only one able to grapple with the biological instincts urging you together as the one who understands it the most, “is the effects of the mating bond clicking into place. Since our bond,”—he gestures between him and Feyre— “is already set in place, the symptoms will make themselves known much more swiftly, while yours may take a few hours or even a day to reveal themselves.” 

Right. The frenzy. 

You flush. 

“Do you—” Feyre swallows, cutting herself off before trying again, having to wet her lips, “do you want to join us?” 

“Join you?” You’re breathless. 

“I’m sure we’ll be able to manage between us, if you would like to rest,” Rhysand supplies, though you have the impression it strains on him to give that safety net. As if reminded of the option, Feyre’s eyes flick to him, hungrily tracing the cut of his figure, watching with a heavy-lidded gaze. You shift your hips against her knee, and they return to you. 

In your periphery Rhysand readjusts his trousers. 

“Will you?” She breathes, her hand rising from the mattress, shifting her weight to her other arm to allow her fingers to coast upward between your breasts, playing with the dip of your collarbone, tracing the outline. “We’ll be careful,” she assures, fingers now tracing across your lower lip, transfixed as her instincts call for her to strip you bare, explore the flavour of your mouth and skin; the taste between your legs. 

“We could start with just one of us?” She tells you, your heart fluttering wildly as her words drip over your skin. “You and me first…”

“Greedy,” Rhys mutters.

“Rhys can watch,” she amends. “We can play in my and his bed—it’s much larger than this one—and I could start with these…” You gasp when she lowers her hand to your breast, circling your nipple with a feather-light touch, tugging on it gently. “Then we could move further…” Feyre takes your wrist in hand, moving to straddle your hips as she brings your palm to her chest, watching you intently as her spine curves into your touch. “And you could try touching me, if you like…? Would you like that? Wouldn’t that be nice?” 

“She needs a chance to respond, Feyre,” Rhys chuckles, leaning against one poster of the large bed. She peers at you intently, rocking her hips almost subconsciously. “You’ll feel so good,” she whispers, bringing your other hand to cup her breast so you have both palms over her. “What do you think?” 

Your flush deepens, looking away, and you can feel Feyre’s grip loosening, crestfallen. 

“I…” You swallow, finding her gaze again, her expression attentive, then glancing briefly over Rhys, nerves wriggling beneath your skin before you look away again, peering at the floor. “I don’t want Rhys to feel left out…” 

You inhale sharply at the stark arousal that blares down the bond, your thighs squeezing together in response, Rhys shifting as he takes down a steadying breath. A noise escapes your throat with the staggering awareness the bond is affording you, able to feel their hunger in your bones, perhaps also affording you a little more confidence than usual. 

“We’re all mates, aren’t we?” You ask, glancing skittishly between them both. When they nod, you continue. “So I’d like…I think it would mean more to be with both of you…all together.” 

————

They make you so dizzy. 

The soft press of Feyre’s narrow lips dragging up the length of your throat, nipping at spaces below your jaw, licking over the bite marks they’ve each put into your skin, forgetting which ones belong to who; the heavy drag of Rhys’ fingers as they dip along the interior of your thighs, palms cupping the round curve of your knees only to slip beneath and delicately raise both legs to your chest; the heat of watching clothes fall to the ground, buttons coming free and ties being loosened, hair pushed back over delicate shoulders and sterling silver bands removed from scar-flecked fingers, flexing before they settle into the rhythm of touch. 

You crawl after Feyre as she pulls away, pushing her second and middle finger to your lips to still you, her own mouth curving with feminine satisfaction. And now the question she’ll ask: “Who do you want next?” 

How many times have they taken turns making you answer that question. How many times have you shamelessly given an answer. How many times have they satisfied your desire only to ask again, “Who do you want next?” 

Always a next; never an end. 

You whimper, clit puffy and sensitive from relentless stimulation, pleasure budding through your body, liquid gold buzzing beneath your skin. How many more touches can you take? 

“Answer me,” Feyre coos, fingers slipping beneath your chin to incline your lips, leaning forward to almost meet you. “Who do you want next?”

“Feyre…” You’re nearly crying, so turned around, so dizzy. So desperate for movement and friction. “Please…” The High Lady beams, cupping your cheeks between her palms and pulling you close enough your noses touch, “mhmm? You want me?” 

“Please…” 

“How do you want me?” Feyre crawls closer, her knees touching your own, “Tell me how you want me.” Your lips part, cheeks flushing. Tongue shifting against your teeth. You’re too embarrassed to tell her. 

Tender claws scratch at your mind, and your walls give a few moments later, tentatively lowering enough for her to slip inside and nestle with you. Watching the image you present her with. 

Blue-grey eyes glitter with hunger, her mouth popping open, blinking away her surprise before grinning. “I didn’t think you’d be so dirty,” Feyre purrs, palms wrapping around your waist to pull you with her as she falls back into the bed, walking you up her body. 

“Are my girls done scheming?” Rhys asks from behind you, effortlessly sending a hot shiver up your spine. His voice alone contains enough power to make your knees buckle. And, my girls. You and Feyre. He’s seeing the two of you together. 

You rest your hands on the headboard, leaning forward enough that Feyre can grin at her mate from beneath you, “We’ll always be scheming, High Lord.” Her legs open, and your mouth waters. “Think you can keep up, Rhys?” 

“Always, for you.” Feyre’s hands begin to loop over your hips to pull you down but Rhysand reaches forward and you gasp when you feel his thick fingers skating up the line of your spine, hairs prickling as you shiver. “You, too,” the High Lord purrs, pushing your hair to one side so he can reach the top of your spine. Your throat closes up, heart fluttering as those deft digits descend down the knots of your back. Stiffening in anticipation when he pauses at the base. “Turn around,” he instructs, clearly. “I should be able to see you, too.” 

The hot breath of Feyre’s moan caresses your inner thigh, and you tighten around nothing. With flushed cheeks you slowly turn, careful of the female lying beneath you. 

Violet eyes glimmer with starlight, and millions of tiny, fluttery wings erupt into motion between your thighs. 

“Better,” he says, quietly. A faint smile on his soft mouth. “Now sit.” 

You part your legs, shakily sinking down onto Feyre’s mouth, Rhysand keeping your eyes locked with him—watching as you settle, watching as your hands find placement on her breasts, watching as Feyre licks up through your centre and you shudder. An adoring smile half-lifts one edge of Rhysand’s lips, his irises softening at their edges as he marks the pleasure unfolding within you. Only then do his thumbs press into the meat of Feyre’s thighs, finding the divot at the interior of her knees to hold them apart, aligning himself, and sliding in. 

You can’t help the way your mouth waters. 

Rhys catches you staring and leans himself forward, grinning as you flush with embarrassment, “Wishing that was you?” 

Your lips part, eyes darting away but he grips your chin lightly, forcefully guiding your gaze back to his. He leans closer and you shudder as Feyre’s lips wrap around your clit, suckling tenderly. Rhysand’s hand cups the nape of your neck, and wild heat fills your skin as he slowly licks over your bottom lip, the tip of his tongue dragging over the bitten area to drag lightly over your top one.  You’re frozen stiff, completely at his mercy. He chuckles, like he finds your awe amusing. Lightly appreciative of your reverence. 

But then he kisses you once on the lips and pulls back, both palms falling to Feyre’s waist, his thumb grazing over the beauty mark that lies a little to the left of her belly button. His hips draw back and slide in, Feyre’s back arching when he meets her all the way, hips held tight to her own. You can’t help the way your fingers fall to graze over her abdomen, able to see the prominent outline of the High Lord nestled within his mate. 

He’s been inside you the same way he’s inside her. 

You have to lick your lips. 

“Move,” you whisper, circling your hips over Feyre’s mouth, almost certainly smearing arousal across her lips; the tip of her rosey nose; her chin. The High Lady moans her agreement, inclining her hips from the bed and you watch as the muscles in her thighs and stomach flex. Feline grace contained within her flesh. You want to taste every part of her you can. 

Rhys begins slowly, languidly moving inside of her, rolling his hips so he slides all the way in to his base. Soon enough he sets their pace, and your eyes nearly roll with the pleasurable warmth that’s being delivered to your body, fizzling and fluttering throughout. Heat is prominent on the High Lord’s cheeks, tan skin flushed with colour and you’re all so sensitive but needing of more that release is swift and fulfilling. Bright flashes of pleasure zipping down your thighs, bursts of heat fluttering in your lower belly, warm-pink flame heating and heating until you’re boiling and bubbling over. 

Rhys grits his teeth, likely trying to cope with the pleasure of Feyre’s orgasm, and you can’t help yourself. 

You lean forward, cunt still seated on the High Lady’s mouth, your palms sloping up his well-muscled chest to wrap over his shoulder to push your lips together, tongue licking against him, tasting him, devouring him. The High Lord’s control splinters, then fractures entirely, a groan of pure, male pleasure delivered to your mouth as he releases deep inside his mate. You want it to be as drawn out as possible, for him to fill her up as much as he can, until she’s dripping. 

It’s only when he’s panting, breathless and with his head lowered that you know he’s finished. 

Teeth prod into your lower lip, fresh arousal dripping from your cunt, cleaned away by Feyre’s tongue. Her fingers drum ticklishly over your thighs, knowing what you’ve been waiting for. You can practically see the smug, satisfied grin on her rosey lips. 

The combined effort of the both of you has you taking her place on the bed in mere seconds, lying on your back with a blinking Rhys now positioned between your thighs. Feyre mounts your mouth like she’s descending onto her throne, thighs parted and facing you so she can run her fingers through your hair. 

Rhysand freezes when he understands what’s going on. Then his warrior’s hands have shackled your ankles and you’re roughly dragged down the bed, swept out from under your mate and you whine, crying out and reaching for her. But there’s heat in his eyes, a wicked smile on his mouth, mischief and hunger twinkling between the starlight. “I did all the work, darling,” he rumbles, the words rough and gravelly from his chest. “The least you can do is let me watch.”

You flush as you’re repositioned: half-way up the bed with Feyre hovering over your face, your mouth open and her legs spread; further up the bed is Rhys, gazing down at you so he can watch every stroke of your tongue, every drip of his cum that’s mixed with Feyre’s own orgasm that you collect on your lips, tasting in your mouth. 

“I should have known what you two were planning,” Rhys drawls, cock hard against his stomach from watching the show. He’s eaten his release out of Feyre before but it’s different watching someone else do it. It’s different having a mate to watch do it. “So dirty indeed.”

“And it was all her idea,” Feyre muses proudly from atop her perch. “You were so shy to show it to me,” she coos. 

“Looks like she’s a wicked one.” Violet eyes flick to Feyre. “She’ll rival you for your mischief.” 

“I think you mean she’ll rival you. You’re the dirty one.” 

Their eyes simultaneously drop, and you flush beneath their attention, hair spread out messily across the mattress, licking Feyre’s cunt whenever you please. Rhys’ fingers trail across your forehead, playing with a few stray strands of hair. “You like that? Tasting us together?” 

You moan softly, licking up and circling Feyre’s clit, causing her to moan. 

Butterflies start fluttering anew when Rhys wraps his hand around his cock, still achingly hard, cum beginning to drizzle down his tip. Your temperature spikes, mouth watering further. Rhys’ eyes twinkle, his mouth curving before he’s shifting onto his knees. “You know,” he muses, looming so comparatively high above you while Feyre keeps you pinned to the mattress, “let’s find out how dirty she is.”

Your thighs have to squeeze together at the blatant lust in his voice, clit pulsing as you rub your legs together.  

Violet eyes meet your own, and you shiver. Rhys grins. “You look pretty happy, down there.” You moan, licking at her hungrily, wanting her to stop hovering and to finally just sit. His hand continues stroking himself to the sign, up and down, slowly building his pleasure again. There isn’t much time you need to wait—you’re all so stimulated, so sensitive to touch. Rhys has to grit his teeth through the first series of strokes before the tension is being released and he’s panting again, muscles flexing in his stomach and forearms. 

“Think you can take some more?” Rhys groans, and you watch with desperate eyes as a bead of cum slips over his head. “Answer me.” 

You nod your head. “More,” you pant, watching him intently. Rhys’ eyes nearly roll, but then yours nearly cross as he shifts his hips, the tip of his cock nearly bumping into Feyre’s clit. He’s intending to finish straight into your mouth. 

You can’t help it, then. Your hand lifts from the bed and trails down your body, fingers slipping between your thighs. It’s a mix between painful and perfectly oversensitive, clit hard and puffy beneath your digits that slide right down your centre, two fingers sinking inside yourself and curling. 

It doesn’t take long from there. 

“Gods, you’re such a good girl,” Feyre praises, biting her lip as she palms her breasts, cupping them and thumbing across her nipples. “Isn’t she perfect, Rhys?” 

“So perfect.” He agrees. “So dirty.” 

You whimper in protest but Rhys cocks a brow and you shut up. He smirks. “So good, and so obedient, isn’t she?” 

“Perfect for us,” Feyre agrees, moaning as she circles her hips faintly, seeking the attention of your tongue which swiftly returns to attend to her, flicking over her clit and licking up her centre. “A perfect little mate to play with.” 

Rhys groans, the noise rumbling in his chest as his orgasm finds him at last, release pouring from his tip, shooting down between your lips and filling you up. His hip buck, his fingers flexing around his cock as pleasure pulses through his body, his eyes shutting tight as his muscles tremble. 

The tip of your finger drags back up over your clit and you come undone. 

Feyre watches, utterly content, as her two mates reach completion around her. She can just make out your eyes, half-rolled as your own high filters through your blood. Then there’s Rhys, whose hand is shaking as he pumps himself, hips seemingly moving of their own accord as he tries to keep himself going for as long as possible, throwing himself into overstimulation for the sake of your pleasure. 

She sits happily on your mouth when he’s done, his blue-black hair falling against her shoulder as hot breath fans down her front. 

How lucky they are to have found such a sweet, mischievous little mate to match them. 

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover @mrsjna @acoazlove

feysand taglist: @girlmadeofavocados @zara-aliza08

[keloshe-sims]

lol hi! took a 7 month break to come back and try to make some meshes from scratch so pls have mercy ;-;

THINGS ON THE COUNTER

10 clutter objects (see image or below for whats what) search [keloshe-sims] in buy to find

Simsfileshare (Individual Files) / Patreon (Merged File)

Always freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

List of contents

Sakura shampoo

Sakura conditioner

Hydrogen peroxide

Dove men+care 2 in 1

Dentures

Denture Adhesive Cream (denture glue)

Cushion grip (denture glue)

Anusol (hemorrhoid cream)

Doctor butlers (hemorrhoid cream)

Walgreens hemorrhoidal pain relief cream (hemorrhoid cream)

Narcan

again ty for checking this out ive been playing around with blender so more is to come and its only up from here bb, here's a surprise cc lamp i made for you, for looking under the cut :p

Boxy Lamp, comes in 19 swatches!

simfileshare / patreon

inspo was from my lamp next to me then i added some designs i thought were fun!

[heartfullofleeches]

Cat hybrid reader trying to feed on cow yandere in public?

[This is the brattiest reader I've ever written. (Mentions of lactation)]

"Thirsty...."

You despised the city. Nosy, overcrowded, and most bothersome of all - prevented you from obtaining what you loved most. Your caretaker had to run into town to picking something up from a supplier and brought you with them on the count of you being their emotional support. You were nestled together at their side on an outside bench at a coffee as you waited - position increasing your suffering tenfold.

At the angle you laid your face was perfectly cushioned by their fatty chest. Your cheeks rubs against the pads tapped over their leaking tits as you stir - wallowing in your misery. With how scarcely your lips left their skin, the cow had fundamentally became a milk factory. Beneficial on your end as well as theirs in most scenes, but this was not one of those times.

Your caretaker gently nudges you to the crook of their arm as they go to take the tray from the approaching barista - the rich scent of their cream assaulting your senses as rub at your ears - simultaneously pressing you further against their pillowy flesh.

"I know, it's my fault for taking you out in this weather. I'm so sorry, sugar - sit up so you can drink."

You scoot up as they offer you a cup, taking the drink and relishing the condensation dripping down its container. You assumed that comfort would spread once you finally took a sip, but the experience was quite the opposite. You tasted hints of milk, but sugar and cold coffee were unfortunately the dominating flavors of the beverage. The milk lacked the natural sweetness and creamy texture of their milk. Disappointed, you push the offending drink out of range - bleching as the taste lingers.

Your caretaker strokes your back as you sputter. "You didn't like it? Forgive me, Sweetheart, it's a latte so I thought you might... Is there anything else you want?"

Pouring the latte into a decorative plant, you slump back down on their chest, fangs teasing their nipple as you sob. "Milk...."

Your caretaker shutters. Their fragile heart, and heavy tits ache as your soft cries. Small dots seep through their shirt as the adhesive of their bandages loses grip due to all the fluid their producing which you lap at quizzically. "I can see if they'll bring you some to hold you off until we get home..."

Hunger flickers in your eyes - coarse tongue circling their puffy nipple as you reiterate. "milk."

They suck air through tight lips - digging at your shirt as you purr at the familiar taste. "Alright... We'll go to the bathroom and you can have a drink. That sound good with you?"

Too far... At the misguided go ahead, you yank their shirt over their chest - ripping off the bandages as you lower your lips to their milky tits. Their shirt falls over your face as you use both hands to massage their flesh, pumping more milk into your greedy mouth as you suckle. Your fangs scrap their nipple as the overflow becomes too much for you to swallow and you choke attempting to force it all down. The cow swats at your hands with no real force behind the blow, wiping at your chin as they take control from you.

"What have I told you about doing that... You're gonna make yourself sick.." They whisper- muttering softly as they craddle the back of your head as you slow to the tune of their gently rocking. "That's it... Just like that... What am I going to do with a trouble starter like you."

Love you like no other is what they'll do. So clingu, but that neediness was just what they adored. They weren't sure what they'd do, if they came home to an empty house and their arms free of claw marks given as you begged on your knees for more milk. Enabling you was a small sacrifice to pay for having you in their arms no matter how spoiled you might turn out to be.

Your caretaker pulls their jacket over you as more eyes wander towards your table, shielding you between their plush body and the couch cushions as someone approaches. You had started to drift off from all the milk you had consumed, and the warm summer sun beating down on you - at peace at last.

"Um... hello, I assume you're the one who purchased the catnip?"

"Yea... wanted to get my sweetheart something to relax them since longer trips make them antsy - but I think I'll be canceling that order."

[xinxiaogato]

— snip! snip! snip...!

summary. the hairstyle of the guy with indigo eyes was very specific: a short jellyfish cut that ended at the base of his neck with wispy, sparse bangs lined up in the front. however, what would happen if your boyfriend gave someone free rein to a pair of scissors near his head?

love interests. gn!reader x kabukimono, scaramouche, and wanderer. (separately)

warnings. cursing, jealousy, unedited, and a lil spicy during wanderer’s part.

word count. 3,506.

note. let’s pretend both niwa and the nameless child (named “isamu” here) are alive at the same time for this fic… you are referred to as “reader” by the way!

꒰ 傾奇者 ꒱ — kabukimono

your cutie patootie of a boyfriend always burst through the door after working at the forge and embraced you as if centuries had passed since the last time you saw each other.

but today, for some odd reason, when you heard the familiar squeak of the front door, that squeak wasn’t followed by the usual croon of your name and a rush of footsteps toward you. instead, you listened to kabukimono wordlessly pad into the bathroom…

and he didn’t come out.

concerned for his well-being, you quickly made your way outside the room he barricaded himself in and knocked on the door twice. “kabukimono?” you called for him. “are you all right?”

silence.

and then you heard him sniffle.

“y-yeah, i’m okay,” his voice returned meekly. “please don’t worry about me…”

your heart squeezed tightly in your chest. “wait, are you crying?"

"..."

"kabukimono, please let me know what’s going on. we can work it out together. you know that.”

you prepared to give him space if there was no reply, but the door creaked open shortly after. you took that as an invitation to walk in but was abruptly glomped by him, his face buried into your chest.

“kabukimono!” startled, you tried to gently push your boyfriend off, but it was like the two of you got stuck together by adhesive glue.

“what happened?” you asked with what breath he hadn’t squeezed out of your lungs.

kabukimono was so, so embarrassed. half of the reason he refused to budge was the shame for not greeting you properly…

…but the other half was the atrocity that had become of his front bangs!

previously, niwa had noticed them getting a tad too long to the point they were poking into kabukimono’s eyes, so like a good samaritan, niwa suggested to give them a little trim. 

kabukimono should’ve protested a little harder when he saw niwa take out scissors the size of gardening shears.

“n-niwa…!” quivered kabukimono as he gawked at himself through a shard of glass.

“i’m so sorry, friend; this is all my fault! but it doesn’t look too bad?”

“…niwa, reader is going to break up with me.”

niwa offered up his bandana for kabukimono to wear home, but kabukimono knew he’ll have to face this dilemma head-on sooner or later.

however, the closer he got to his and your house of wooden veneer… the more he dreaded your reaction.

“kabukimono…” you said softly, which turned his stomach. “…may i see your face?”

“…”

against his better judgment, the wandering samurai peeled his face off of your clothes and angled it so that you could glimpse his bangs, which were much shorter than you were accustomed to. your lips parted in mild surprise as you took another second to process this.

“…i look terrible,” kabukimono murmured in the silence, tears pricking his bluish-purple eyes. he knew he was seconds away from bidding his quaint life with you goodbye. “p-please don’t leave me…” he added underneath his breath, his fingers gripping onto you tighter like you were about to disappear.

…so this is what he was trying to hide all along.

you let out a little “pfft” that captured his attention and then smoothed back his short bangs to plant a kiss as sweet as summer fruit on his forehead.

“kabukimono, you look perfect,” whispered you with only love in your eyes.

for the first time that night, kabukimono looked up and donned a gaze of profound intensity that felt like it was sucking you in. he really loved it when you said his name with your voice; it made him melt into a puddle. 

“i’m not gonna leave you over something this silly,” you continued, making him scrunch his face when you booped his nose. “besides, it’ll grow out.”

“really?” he croaked.

“really. now how about you wake up isamu while i get dinner ready?”

kabukimono blinked away tears that had threatened to spill down his cheeks earlier. you always dispelled his worries in a flash no matter how trivial they were. why did he ever have doubts in the first place? you were his sanctuary—the end-all to his anxiety of being abandoned. “okay!”

꒰ 国崩 ꒱ — scaramouche

slam!

that sound of the door to his bedroom was nothing to sneeze at, but the fact that the fatui harbinger didn’t greet you with a kiss on the lips as per usual was. hell, you didn’t even get the chance to see his face when he came home. that either meant he was really angry or really tired, and whether he joined you for dinner was up to you to test the waters.

tonight, you were feeling brave. how could he turn down your infamous chicken katsu?

“scara!” you exclaimed, wiping your hands on a towel before approaching the lion’s den. “i made dinner! or would you prefer a shower? or perhaps… moi?”

“…”

“i know you’re in there. at least give me a sign that you’re alive.”

“...”

“scaramouche! scaramouche! will you do the fandango?”

“...”

“sc-scara, there’s a fire in the kitchen!”

“…”

“seriously?”

well, you supposed you should’ve saved that one for later. you used that excuse last week to lure him out.

heaving a sigh, you turned on your heel to accept eating alone for the night when scaramouche suddenly whipped the door open and encircled his arms around you from behind, pulling a shocked you to his chest and locking you in place.

“if you turn around, we’re breaking up,” he grumbled into your ear.

“huh!?” you thrashed around in scaramouche’s grip to no avail. “that’s not something you can just decide on your own!”

“don’t care. if you saw me—!”

if you saw him, you would most definitely laugh, and the last thing scaramouche wanted to be was a laughing stock to his lover. of course he would cast aside his ego when it came to your reputation, but archons forbid you seeing him as something pitiable. not if he could help it.

“don’t you realize i’ll be more upset if i didn’t get to see your handsome face, darling?” you whined with futile tugs and twists at his wrists. “as to whatever happened, it can’t be that bad!”

oh, it was bad. really bad.

“the most important thing is eye contact!” declared his colleague with the irritatingly bright locks of orange hair. “after all, there’s a saying that eyes are the windows of the soul. how else are you supposed to communicate your feelings to them?”

“...dude, you don’t even have light in your eyes,” scaramouche responded. “why should i take advice from you?”

“what does that have to do with anything?”

sandrone’s massive puppet smacked tartaglia upside the head as she scowled. “stop making a ruckus, and just cut the balladeer’s bowlcut already. he looks homeless.”

“yes, i don’t think we can handle the sixth harbinger’s lamentation about his relationship much longer,” arlecchino grumbled, her eyes turning so far upward that they almost rolled right out of the room.

“none of you guys were even supposed to know about it!” scaramouche roared with fury practically emanating off of him.

this outburst had all the other partygoers of the tsarita’s banquet turning their heads. they couldn’t believe their eyes, but it was true. all ten executive heads of the fatui were gathered together in one place (fly high, signora). even the harbingers themselves never thought something like this would happen if it weren’t for you, who scaramouche had introduced and (to his dismay) had made them all smitten toward you. even the tsaritsa thought you were pleasant.

the fatui harbingers could not refuse your suggestion to have “team bonding events”—this gala being one of them—and the animosity between these lieutenants have actually lessened over time (by a hair’s breadth).

“i can use my water blades,” tartaglia offered, who thrusted his hands forward to summon them.

scaramouche’s hands balled into fists, ready to clock the eleventh harbinger before he even had the chance. “no. a thousand times no! don’t even get those things close to me if you want to live, you asshat.”

“what… transpired this?” whispered pulcinella, unable to keep up with the youngsters’ energy.

pantalone took it upon himself to explain the situation. “word is that our dear reader complimented the hairstyle of a subordinate working underneath the balladeer,” the regrator informed as he pushed his neck-strap spectacles higher up the bridge of his nose. “since then, he has failed to complete a single assignment.”

revealing his sharp canines, dottore snickered. “in spite of that, it truly is miraculous that the kid found someone who could get past his ironclad exterior.”

columbina hummed in agreement. “it is miraculous that anyone even likes him~!”

they eventually resorted to a pair of scissors that dottore had in his coat pocket (dottore was almost disappointed when il capitano reminded everyone that he carried one), and after some convincing and straight up fist fighting, it was decidedly pulcinella who got on a stool to give scaramouche a snip.

and pulcinella… doesn’t have the best eyes.

“if it’s about your dark circles, it’s okay,” you reassured scaramouche back in the present. “i’ll always accept you the way you are.”

“i don’t have dark circles!” in a fit of rage, scaramouche spun around to glare at you while blinking several times in quick succession and—lo and behold—gave you front-row seats to pulcinella’s botched job at cutting his bangs, which now ended halfway down his forehead. scaramouche felt his heart drop into his stomach at the sight of your widened eyes before he shoved his hat into your face and stormed off.

“w-wait, scara!” you chased after him to the living room, and he still refused to face you. “that was what you were worried about me seeing?”

following that was a silence that thickened the air. you walked up to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. “hey… i like guys with short hair, you know?”

…

…

…

“...but that damn skirmisher had long hair,” your boyfriend grumbled.

ah. this confirmed your suspicion that he overheard you speaking to his underling. little did scaramouche know that you had just been asking about your boyfriend’s whereabouts that day (but of course the balladeer anxiously spying on you the whole time made it impossible for you to locate him).

“i also like guys with blue hair and blue eyes.” you went to stand in front of scaramouche and placed his kasa hat back onto his head before squishing his face with your hands. he furrowed his eyebrows and tried to pull away, but the almighty harbinger became weak before you very easily. “i like guys with red eyeliner. a big hat. a haughty attitude. i like you, darling. and nothing is going to change that.”

scaramouche clenched his jaw and looked down at the floor dejectedly. “...how can you stand it though? you just said my attitude is haughty. is that… fine?”

“i’m still here, aren’t i?” you smiled. “and i’m not going anywhere. even if you went bald.”

“...do not allow that image to form in your brain, reader.”

“it’s too late.”

“reader!”

but despite the irritation laced in his voice, his lips were curled into a smile reserved only for his lover’s eyes. he liked you, too, and nothing was going to change that.

꒰ 放浪者 ꒱ — wanderer

“lesser lord kusanali.”

the dendro archon whirled around and almost let out a breath of relief at the sight of you entering the sanctuary of surasthana, your fingers intertwined behind your back. “grand sage, it is good to see you,” nahida greeted earnestly. “i’m sorry for contacting you on such short notice, but you were the only one i could think of reaching out to.”

“really?” you cocked an eyebrow as you descended down the white stone walkway. not at all did you mind chatting with nahida when you had the chance, but if you were the only person capable of solving her problem, it must be serious. “what could be the matter?”

“well… it’s rather a long story.” scratching her cheek, the dendro archon recounted what took place that morning.

“what are you thinking about?” the little archon questioned as she and wanderer strolled along the outskirts of the city.

wanderer kicked a rock that had the misfortune of being in his path. “you and i both know the answer to that,” he stoically replied.

“has it been that long since you and reader have seen each other?”

those words made something in wanderer’s chest feel a foreign pang, one that only occurred when he envisioned your face.

“i know that they’re busy with official affairs,” he scoffed, coming to a full stop. nahida followed suit, looking back at him with a hand to her heart. “it just can’t be safe for humans to stay cooped up inside of their offices all day long.”

nahida knew the nonchalance in wanderer’s tone was just a cover-up for how much he missed you, and the archon was all too familiar with that feeling. “wanderer—”

“i’m gonna make them regret prioritizing their work over me.”

with a tip of his hat, wanderer started trudging back the way they came.

“hey, wait!” she rushed after him and clung onto one of the blue fabrics dangling from the back of his head covering, which yanked him back toward her.

“what?” he deadpanned.

“how are you planning to make reader regret it?” she asked her disciple, anxious about letting him out of her sight.

“...”

wanderer recalled overhearing a conversation in the grand bazaar. a woman was fawning over her husband’s new appearance, who shaved off his beard earlier that day because he wanted to surprise her, and it was like she fell in love with him for the first time all over again.

wanderer wanted you to fall in love with him all over again.

“haircut,” he grunted.

“haircut?” nahida echoed.

“i want a haircut.” wanderer blatantly pointed at his head.

nahida took a moment to process his request before breaking out into a smile antagonistic to his scowl. “leave it to me!”

“and that was my first time cutting someone’s hair…” concluded nahida quite dejectedly. “...so you can imagine his fury when he got his hands on a mirror…”

“oh, archons,” you muttered right in front of her, slapping a hand to your face. “where is he now?”

“i’m not sure… i think he grumbled something about curling up in a corner and never seeing a single person again before he flew away.”

the only place you could imagine he escaped to was your shared home together in sumeru city, which was the biggest decision you two had carried out together in your relationship so far. however, you had no idea that the house became such a lonely place for wanderer. anguish squeezed your heart as you pictured him eating dinner alone, pretending the food was satiating like you had suggested in the past because he had wanted to be more human. “like you,” he had said.

“please let the other sages know i am taking an early leave,” i said, pivoting on my heel. “lunch is on me tomorrow!”

“good luck!” nahida called out to you, and as you pushed through the doors of the sanctuary, you felt like you grew wings right there and then.

when was the last time you inhaled a breath of fresh air…?

you dashed home as fast as your little legs (that had been stationary for what? six days?) could carry you home. along the way, nilou stopped you to discuss performing for the people in aaru village, cyno wished to speak about dispatching additional soldiers to monitor trade in the caravan ribat, and al haitham wanted a vacation(?)

however, you had to direct each one of them to your p.o. box because there was one request that waited to be fulfilled for a long, long time.

“babe!” you exclaimed, stumbling a bit as you peeled off your shoes at the doorway. “babe, are you home?”

silence. every step you took further down the hallway entrance felt like stepping onto an eggshell, and your mind started to wonder. was he not actually here? where could he have gone then?

“babe—”

in a flash, you were tightly enveloped by a pair of arms that knocked the wind out of your lungs. you almost lost your footing if it weren’t for the wall right behind you while, in front of you, your lover’s shaking eyes were trying to immortalize every detail of your face onto the canvas of his mind.

“reader…” wanderer mumbled, his cold hands cupping your cheeks like they were made of glass. “you’re here.”

a complicated feeling began to creep up inside of your chest. you didn’t even have the heart to “pfft” at his bangs that looked like a kindergartener had cut it (which wasn’t far from the truth). the crooked ups and downs of his bangs were the least of your concerns.

“i’m so sorry, wanderer,” you whispered as you reached up and gently held his wrists. “i’ve been so busy with attending meetings and approving requests that—”

“shut it.”

wanderer leaned in and hungrily captured your lips with his, and it didn’t take long before they began to trail butterfly kisses down your jaw and to your neck. his grazing teeth coaxed small noises from your mouth as they made light work of your sensitive skin.

“wanderer, wait…”

he pulled back momentarily to look you dead in the eye. “i have waited far too long,” wanderer snarled. “just let me have you, reader…”

you could not risk losing the ability to walk like last time. an idea came over you in that moment to break the spell clouding wanderer’s eyes with lust and desire.

“i’M gONna mAke tHem rEGret pRioriTiziNg thEir worK oVEr Me!” you cried out dramatically as if you had been fatally wounded.

your allusion was so out of character that it completely caught him off guard. as wanderer pressed his lips into a thin line, he created some room for jesus between his body and yours and asked in a contemptuous voice, “did lesser lord kusanali make you come here?”

“of course not. i’m here because of you, babe.” you chuckled. “did you think i wouldn’t notice all the subliminal messages you planted in your works?”

wanderer’s eyes widened in light of that. “you read the scholars’ papers?”

“not typically, but i asked the sage of the vahumana darshan to provide me with yours,” you clarified.

you adored the way your partner wrote—even if he always acted like crafting those essays together was a chore. reading his dissertation on societal issues in inazuma was actually how you two crossed paths, as you voraciously sought the author behind it. who would have predicted that the aloof, cold stranger nahida introduced to you as “hat guy” became your clingy mess of a boyfriend years later?

“whatever, don’t pull that disappearing act on me again,” he snapped, flicking your forehead in an odd display of affection. you held back a few colorful words from the sheer strength he put into that finger.

“it’s not like i was trying to avoid you,” you stated. “plus, i would argue that you disappeared, too, babe. even our archon couldn’t surmise where you ran off to.”

“well, you knew where to find me.” and that’s all that matters, he chose not to add.

a soft laugh bubbled from your throat as you directed your attention back to what made him disappear in the beginning. “hey… there’s no need to doll yourself up to get my attention.” you gently swept his silky bangs to the side. “you are always on my mind and even more so when we’re apart.”

a hush descended over the world around you two as wanderer squinted his troubled eyes and averted them to the floor in deep thought.

he could not kid himself any longer. you, a measly and pathetic mortal, had successfully slipped past the outer shell he built to fool irminsul into believing that he was not an individual worthy of loving, existing, redeeming.

“...”

“wanderer?”

"...rea..."

reader, each day felt longer than the last without you by my side.

i never thought i would have a person in this world who wanted me as much as you do.

 if i had to thank beelzebub for one thing, it would be creating me so that i could meet you.

you are the center of my universe.

“teyvat to wanderer…?”

but wanderer would rather die than say allat. hmm, maybe he’ll put those heartfelt words on paper so that you can read them in your office, giggling and kicking your feet.

in the meantime, he settled on dragging you to the bedroom. “you’re getting punished anyway.”

“wha…!? wait, wanderer!”

but on the inside, you were so happy that it didn’t matter if your boyfriend had to fly you to the akademiya every morning for the next several days. you wished for nothing to take away the beautiful smile you could see creeping onto his face.

© xinxiaogato. please do not translate my work without permission or attempt to plagiarize it.

[genacity]

Hi there 🫢

So I just had to write a letter… and I had to put it in an envelope (obvi) and it was one of those envelopes that you have to lick to seal.

Now imagine Scaramouche being ur roommate, and he sees you lick the envelope and his thoughts run WILD

I had to share this cuz idk 💪

🎐anon

nsfw / suggestive scaramouche & the envelope; ANON THIS IS CRAZY WHY ARE YOU SO SMART

i am literally shaking. your last request was so good but this one takes it all 💯 HOW DO YOU THINK OF THESE THINGS

i was thinking of making this an entire fic by itself but i have other drafts i need to clear so you get whatever the hell this may be sorry 😰

you and scaramouche had been roommates for a few months now. he wasn’t the sweetest person in the world; but he payed his share of the bills, had a stable job, and had contributed to the house enough to be able to label him as a decent roommate.

the both of you never seemed to bother each other very often unless it was about the house. maybe the occasional “good morning” or “see you later”, but other than casualties, you never seemed to speak much.

maybe that was why you didn’t expect today to be so different than the rest. today, you had to head down to the post office to send a thank you letter to one of your family members. you had just graduated college recently and since they had send flowers and some money to “treat yourself” (you knew it would just go towards taxes anyways), you concluded that it would be basic courtesy to send a card back at the least.

you stood over the kitchen counter writing out the last of your letter to your extended family. your wrist ached with fatigue as you signed your name next to the love at the bottom of the card and put the pen aside, reaching over to the envelope you had put next to you.

scaramouche walked into the kitchen past you to slide a mug under and press a few buttons on the coffee maker. “what are you doing?” he had asked, the buzzing of the machine behind him making you lick your teeth to hold back the outward cringe. ‘that coffee maker must be old,’ you thought. ‘we should buy a new one soon.’

“just writing a letter.” you said flatly, picking up the envelope and turning to face scaramouche to engage in small talk.

scaramouche raised his eyebrows. “to who?” he inquired. you blinked and looked around for a moment; never had he held a conversation out with you for this long. this was definitely a first. “just some family that came to my graduation.” you murmured, lips occupied as you brought the envelope in your hands to your tongue to lick the seal.

you stuck your tongue out to glide it across the sticky part at the top, the taste of plastic lingering as you wet the seal. your eyes were too focused on the envelope to assure you didn’t cut your tongue (it’s happened before) that you didn’t notice the growing expression on your roommate’s face.

scaramouche’s eyes widened at the sight of your long tongue extending from your lips, carefully licking the adhesive and sealing the letter shut. his lips parted slightly, chest heaving with heavy breaths as his grip against the counter behind him hardened.

he could only stare, frozen in place as you finished the letter off with your stamps of choice and signing the address on the front. you said something to him, but he couldn’t hear you; the only thought in his mind your tongue and what it could do to him.

wait— what? what the hell was he thinking? you were his roommate; just some lowlife he shared an apartment with. but as much as he bashed himself internally, the image of you bending him over this counter right now, using that careful tongue of yours to please him was all he could see. vision foggy as his lips pressed themselves into a line, the sound of the coffee machine behind beeping snapped him out of his thoughts.

“scaramouche, hello? have you seen my—” “no!” he snapped, snatching the mug from the machine and rushing off to his room. your eyes trailed him confusedly. what was wrong with him? matter of fact, what was wrong with you?

you watched him rush away, eyes falling to the evident bulge in his pants before he slammed the door of his bedroom.

[screampied]

Omg hi can I request like a loving, cozy, domestic pronebone with Suguru?? Like he’s just like “shh be quiet Satoru is in the room next door we can’t wake him up” while pressing adoring kisses to the back of your neck omg😵‍💫

trying to keep quiet with suguru ★

cw. fem! reader, prone bone, unprotected, finger sucking, dirty talk, praise

“. . . shhhh,” he’d shush against the corner of your ear, presenting you deep low strokes. a winded gasp wretches from your throat as a palm of geto’s glues against your mouth. he’s so deep, a free hand of his ghosts against the backsides of your spine. an eye roll overtakes your pupils as he’s giving you such righteous hits against your yawning core. geto’s weight just narrowly hovers over you as he’s pressed right up against you, spit slicked lips of yours gnaw and gnash together before you whine again. “gotta be quiet sweetheart. unless you want ‘toru to hear us. you want him to hear how sloppy you are f’me, hm?”

craning your head slowly, you shake a sweet little no and he chuckles, a kiss going against the crown of your head. “so cute,” he purrs in a husky tone, a hand of his gripping against the very edges of your arced hips. fingertips of his dance alongside the very curvature of your body — he takes pride in the way your body responds to him. you’re flinging back and forth, forward against the screeching mattress. geto’s skin, coated with a sweetened sheet of sweat sticks against your own m with each ruthless thrust. “ugh, h-hey, are you licking my palm? mhm, such a filthy girl.”

you were,

with the flatness of your tongue, it lathers against the very center of geto’s palm — tasting the insipid areas of his hand. it follows the creasing flexion lines that runs against his skin.

not before long, you dig your teeth into his hand as your muffled moans vibrate against his luscious tasting flesh. “ah, let me guess. you wanna suck on my fingers too, baby?”

“mmf, y- yes,” you whine as he momentarily departs his hand away. a nice trail of spit looks almost adhesive, its stickiness pastes against his hand as he pries his hand away from your wet mouth. geto’s sharpened hips still deeply drilling into you in the background. your loving hole flutters as you’re just vigorously being pounded beneath the sheets, each wheezing gasp that snatches from your lungs feels like it’s going to be its last. “pleaseee.”

“my pretty girl,” he whispers, the head of his cock never refusing to hit the right angle. with an easy direction of his fingers attaching to your hips, he makes you raise your torso upward to reach more bottomless areas. oh, your mouth forms into the letter ‘o’ at the way he’s stuffing you full of shaft. it’s almost mouth watering,

it is mouth watering.

as you bury your head into the crook of your elbow, geto leans in to place a few kisses near the indenting lines of your back. “look at this gorgeous body,” he purrs, his hips ultimately slowing its maddened pace down — yet despite his tempo suddenly losing its quickened haste, geto’s chest deflates. as he’s leaning up closer to you, his ravened locks of his dance graze up your shoulders as he moves.

back and forth, back and forth,

his rhythm was purely enticing. your jaw aches a bit from how it’s just idly hanging open before he showers you with more delicate kisses.

this time near your neck.

geto’s slow and precise. he starts by your nape, a tongue gradually rolling out to get a taste of your saline, salty skin.

“can never get enough of your taste, fuck,” he murmurs, you’re still plugged in with a good amount of his dick. geto’s so full, swollen rotund balls of his continues to cuff and cuff and cuff against your slick pussy. your ears knell from the never ending paps your own arousal sings as a response. “open wide, baby. get my fingers wet.”

not even seconds later, your lips happily part in preparation for geto to stuff his thickened fingers into your drooling mouth. he grins, already telling how eager you were—milliseconds leisurely passes by and you’re already relishing in the taste of two of his digits curling inside of your mouth.

“thaaat’s it, get it wet ‘cause i want a taste too when you’re done.”

your long lashes flutter against your own eyes as geto starts to pick up his pace again. his other hand still grips onto your waist as he feels your ass writhe against him. fuck, he’s getting closer and closer by the second. geto groans from how you stick against him — he’s already given you a sweet velvety load already. obsidian-black irises of his leer down at the lewd scene at bay. you’re trying to keep up with his pace, but his girth. the wide end stretch alone has you hearing plethora amounts of fuzz pour out of your ears. “s-shit, you’re so perfect arched over for me, sweets..”

with a tongue still lolling around, you merely prevent yourself from gagging once you feel the tips of his digits prod against the very roof of your mouth. just a few inches away from your uvula, a sheeny trail of saliva starts to dribble down your chin before he leans in to kiss you more against your neck.

geto even creates a little trail of kisses . .

numerous times, the warmth of his lips makes your cunt twitch up in total desperation.

trying your best to stay quiet, a loud roaring whimper tugs out of your throat at the head of his cock thwacks repeatedly against your g-spot. you gasp, two fingers of his falling out of your mouth before you’re just pornographically moaning again and again. “f- fuck, right there sugu. hngh.”

“this spot, yeah i know pretty,” and he’s heaving right with you. the undersides of the bed resumes to grate and screech in harmony. he pauses for a bit, popping his own two wet fingers into his mouth. he hums at your taste, relishing in it entirely. so sweet. as geto’s body lingers over you, your ass continuously rebounds against his. a sharp throaty rasp slides out of his lips and he hisses. “gonna cum, f-fuck, ‘m gonna stuff you so full again.”

“i- inside, sugu,” you whine as he gently delves his teeth into the left juncture of your collarbone. it was all exposed—he couldn’t help but leave a little piercing mark from his pearly white canines. geto loves getting carried away and smothers your entire skin with his own homemade moist, needy kisses. airy hot breath collides against your skin, sending you various shivers before you feel your pussy throb. it’s throbbing only divides and multiplies. he hits you in every angle, the curve of his dick ruptures through you and you moan as you feel the arch in your back perk upward. “don’t miss, wan’ it s’bad, want you.”

“i want you too,” he huffs, though with a deep voice — his voice sounds a bit shaky, a bit needy..

maybe your mind was playing tricks on you, but you were almost positive geto just whined for you. you had him so sensitive, his jaw tightens as he continues to ram his fat cock into your compressing, dense walls.

the bed’s sobbing from the hefty weight wringing against the furniture. the same creaking sensations reverbs throughout your ears and the room itself before within seconds. he’s dumping yet another oozy load into you.

with a sleazy wry grin, geto toots your hips up and he starts to grind against you.

your head’s pressing against the silky reddened crimson sheets before you grow quiet. huffs and puffs were the only noises that could be heard, as well as geto’s whimpering that subsides as he starts to finish his longing high. “god, you always know how to m-milk the shit out of me,” he hoarsely titters, wrapping a good amount of fingers around his twitching shaft. geto fists his cock as he’s still gushing a sizable portion of cum into your rapacious hole. still being a tease, you rub up against his lap as you’re still bent over, feeling his hands trail against the very curvature areas your ass. “huh, want more, do ya?”

“don’t stop, sugu,” you mewl out in a desperate plea, craving for more of his seed. it trickles down between your thighs, leaving you so sticky, a mess.

his mess,

geto can’t help but smear the fat of his thumb over your emitting entrance. the print of his finger ghosts against your gooey slit.

the gooey warm cum that streams down and outside your slit makes him groan. “i’ll never stop, baby. y-you can milk me for as much as you’d like,” he pants, preparing to realign himself again. “now let me,” he pants, the entirety of his lungs inhaling air from each second. his lips press against your neck for a final time before he whispers. “let me love you, baby. bend back over f’me, ‘m not done with this gorgeous body yet.”

[fantasyqueen502]

Officer O’Hara

Rated: PG

Word count: 950

Summery: Officer O'Hara hates spider-man, but doesn't know she's married to him.

“You're under arrest!” An officer barks, her gun raised and aimed at the luchador's skull, glaring at her. She steels her nerves, meeting the eyes that were concentrated on hog-tying an unconscious Lizard with its own tail. 

“I think the words you are looking for are 'thank you,'” the man says, speaking through a voice distorter. 

She maintains her distance. “Nueva York police department, you are under arrest for tampering, vigilantism, battery, bodily assault, and contaminating and jeopardizing numerous crime signs.” She lists. 

“I thought we had something, Officer L/N.” 

“And getting on my damn nerves. It's officer O'Hara now,” she corrects. 

“Is that against the law?” He quips. 

Gripping the walkie, pinned over her heart. “I need...” she managed only three syllables. And that's being generous before an electric hiss sliced the air, a force shoving her into a far wall. The wind knocked out of her two more zips, sound bright red webs pinning her hands to the brick. 

"Awww, we can't have our fun now that you're off the market.” He whines. 

“You're gonna pay for this. You hear me. There are consequences. You can’t continue evading the law---mmm.” Webbing glues her mouth shut.

“Till next time, officer O'hara,” he chirps. 

“Congratulations to the new beau.” He swings off. 

“You look like a chipmunk, mommy.” Gabriella observes. 

Her cheeks and lips are red and puffy. One hand holding an ice pack to her left cheek. 

“And you will be too if you don't finish your peas.” 

“I did.” She points at her empty plate with her fork. 

The mom lifts the plate, revealing a grouping of peas hidden under it. Using a butter knife, she slid them back into the plate, placing them before her. Gabriella pouts, slouching back in her seat, kicking her feet in a mild tantrum. “But I don't wanna!” She whales. “They’re yucky.” 

“Finish your dinner, and you'll get a slice of tres leche cake, Daddy made.'' She coos cleaning the dishes. Holding the ice pack with her shoulder. 

“With strawberries,” she mumbles.

“And raspberries,” she nods, smiling to herself, seeing the reflection in the window of Gabriella begrudgingly eating her peas. 

“I'm home!” Calls from the front door.

“Kitchen!” She returns.

“Ow.” She yelps as her husband sneaks a kiss on her cheek. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, looking to get a good look at her face. “Did adhesive solvent help?” He asks. He had received a slurry of texts while at work about the situation. Trying the call only to be declined until she sent him a selfie of herself. Red webbing covered her from below her nose to her chin. 

“Yes, but my face is now burning from scrubbing it raw,” she groans. 

“I'm sorry, honey.” Placing a kiss on her forehead. 

“Another reason to the list to keep myself restrained from wringing that thick neck.” She grits out

“Why do you not like Spider-Man, mommy?” She mumbles while taking a break from her peas. “He's so cool and saves people like you, mommy.” 

“That's right.” 

“No, honey.” 

The couple looks at each other. 

“He didn't go to school like mommy did, followed the rules, and not just swing around as I pleased and assault an officer. Me!” 

“But he's a good guy. He even wears your colors.” 

“Why are you defending him?” 

“I'm just playing devil's advocate.” He holds his hands up. 

“Finished!!!” Exclaimed the young girl. “Cake, now.” 

“Dinner’s in the microwave,” she sighs before leaving the kitchen.

Reading and rereading the same line from her tablet of a book she downloaded a while ago but never got the time to finish, thanks to life. 

Knock!!! Knock!!!

“We got ice cream for you, mommy.” 

Gabriella says, nudging the door with her hip. Big bowl in hand. Throwing the now useless melted ice pack to the side. To greet her daughter, taking the bowl as she focused on climbing into bed. Snuggling up close to her mom. 

"Thank you.” She coos kissing her cheek. “Got your slice of cake?” 

She nods. “Big slice.” 

“Did you brush your teeth?” She asks. From the smell of whipped cream and fruit, that was a no. 

Gabriella nods, hiding her mischevious grin. 

“Gabriella.” Calls from the doorway. 

“Uh-oh.” the young girl coos. 

“Busted.” the mother laughs. 

“Teeth and bed; I'll be there in a minute.” He instructs.

The tiny tot scampers out of bed past her dad. He pats her head as she makes her way to her bathroom. 

“I'm sorry,” she exhales through her nose. Eyes tired. 

“For what?” His voice is soft and gentle. Kissed her ears.

“I know how much Spiderman means to the city, seeing the looks on you and Gabby's faces when he’s on TV and the daily bugle.” She sighs, massaging the space between her brows. 

“I understand your feelings with the webslinger.” 

“The only feelings I have I can't say in fear of our five-year-old hearing and repeating.” 

He chuckles. She looks at her bowl of moose tracks topped with chocolate syrup and takes a heaping spoonful of cold goodness. Sighing as she closes her eyes and moans from the relief it brought to her lips. 

“Let me say all of the no-no words for you,” he offers. “Give him a piece of my mind.” 

“Really.” She chuckles. 

“Really,” he assures. “I’ll get him a stern talk on lowering the polymer strength in the adhesive in those weds.”

She laughs, but squeaks, holding her cheek, but laughs anyway through the pain. “I feel bad now,” she says through her breaks for breath. “I don’t want him to die from your science talk.” 

"Well, too bad for him,” he tuts. She leans in, giving his lips a peck. He smiles and licks his lips.

[bestanimal]

Round 2 - Arthropoda - Copepoda

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Copepoda is a class of small crustaceans found in nearly every freshwater and saltwater biome, including the arctic. Some are planktonic, some live in sediment (benthic), some live underground in sinkholes or caves, some are parasitic, and some even live in wet terrestrial places such as bogs and the water-filled cups of bromeliads. They are small, usually 1 to 2 mm long, with a teardrop-shaped body and two pairs of antennae. Some polar copepods can reach up to 1 cm long. Most copepods have a single compound eye, usually bright red and in the centre of their transparent head. Subterranean species may be eyeless, and a couple genera have two eyes. Free-living copepods have a head fused with the first one or two thoracic segments, with the remainder of the thorax being comprised of three to five limbed segments. The first pair of appendages are maxillipeds, limbs used for feeding. The second pair beat like oars, aiding in swimming. They have a narrow abdomen with five leg-less segments, with tail-like rami at the tip. Meanwhile, the anatomy of parasitic copepods are so widely diverse that I simply do not have space to talk about it here. Copepods have incredibly fast reflexes, due to well-developed myelin sheaths, allowing them to escape predators at high speeds, often porpoising out of the water. Like ostracods, many species also use bioluminescence as a defense mechanism, using it to distract predators (see gif below).

When they are ready to mate, some copepod females leave a trail of pheromones for males to follow. When mating, the male will grip the female with his antennae and produce an adhesive spermatophore, then transfer it to the female’s genital opening. After fertilization, the eggs will sometimes be laid directly into the water column, or, in some species, the female will carry them in a sac until they hatch. In some pond-dwelling species, the eggs can remain dormant in the case of the pond drying up, waiting to hatch until more favorable conditions are present. The larvae hatch with a head and a tail but no true thorax or abdomen. In fact, the larvae look so different from their adult forms that many of them were once thought to be different species! They will moult 5-6 times before becoming a copepodid larva which resembles the adult, sans some limbs and segments. After 5 more moults they will reach adulthood.

The oldest known fossils of copepods are from the Late Carboniferous, but due to their small size and fragility, they are rare in the fossil record. However, these fossilized copepods seemed to belong to an extant (still living) family, meaning that copepods may have already reached the forms they are in now by the Carboniferous.

Propaganda under the cut:

Copepods are dominant members of zooplankton and are food for many species of fish. Some scientists say they form the largest animal biomass on earth, matched only by Antarctic Krill.

The surface layers of the ocean are the world’s largest carbon sink, absorbing harmful greenhouse gasses: about 2 billion tons of carbon a year, the equivalent of a third of human carbon emissions. Copepods contribute to a large part of this, feeding near the surface at night, and then carrying these gasses to deeper water with them. Their moulted exoskeletons, feces, and respiration all transfer carbon to the deep sea.

Live copepods are a popular addition to saltwater fish tanks, both as a food source for hard-to-feed fish, and as a clean-up crew.

Copepods are sometimes added to water-storage containers to control mosquitos, as some species will eat mosquito larvae. Copepods have been used successfully in Vietnam to control mosquitoes carrying dengue fever, and trials to employ this method are also underway in Thailand and the southern United States.

Sheldon J. Plankton, of “Spongebob Squarepants” fame, is a copepod!

[charliehoennam]

to the moon.

a/n: thanks to @ilovedavidloki for encouraging this with your support and your amazing work. hope u enjoy it!

pairing: david loki x f!mommy!reader

summary: david missed out on his first father's day and tries to make up for it when he comes home.

warnings: none really, just fluff with a baby and david gets in his fatherhood feels

SHARING IS CARING, REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT

He's made this drive home countless times ever since he had gotten married to you a few years back. 

He knows the route like the back of his hand by now, but specifically today, it feels longer than usual. It might also be because he's been counting down the minutes to finally clock out.

It's after 10 p.m as he prays to get home soon enough to catch you awake still, so he presses his foot against the accelerator just a little more to speed things up. 

Most of the town is tucked away in their homes for the night; the roads are fairly empty at this time despite the hot summer night. 

Usually, he doesn't mind you not waiting up for him. Especially now that you have your 8 month old son Milo to take care for. 

Being new to parenthood is exhausting. Combined with the job, David usually feels more drained than ever.

Tonight is a different story though. He's so anxious to get home, gripping the steering wheel with eyes wide as he whispers for the car in front of him to hurry up. 

Within a few minutes, he finally reaches the familiar road and pulls into the driveway. 

He quickly grabs his travel mug and climbs out of the government issued car, setting the alarm on as he takes long strides toward the porch. 

Holding the mug between his ribs and his arm, he tugs at the silk tie around his neck and pulls it loose.

He wasn't the biggest fan of them until you got him a 3 tie set for the first birthday he celebrated with you. 

David didn't have the heart to tell you that he didn't wear them, although you had figured it out when you caught him struggling to tie it.

You remembered what he told you about being an orphan and assumed that he didnt have anyone to teach him. Until that moment.

Once you taught him how to tie it, he started wearing them more often; every knot tied with a smile at the thought of you.

Letting it hang loosely around his neck, he steps inside and locks the door behind him. 

The TV is off.  The lights - except for the one over the stairs - are out. The house is deadly quiet except for the faint hum of the AC.

His eyes scan over the playpen in the corner of the living room, laden with Milo's favorite toys. 

He smiles at the thought of Milo swinging them around, giggling deliciously at the top of his lungs. 

Taking the new travel mug you had gifted him with at breakfast to the kitchen sink, warmth blooms in his heart as he rinses the old coffee out careful to not scratch the Best Detective Daddy in the World adhesive with the sponge. He wants it to stay on there forever. 

He hates that he couldn't spend his very first father's day with his family, so he decides to head upstairs and peaks into Milo's nursery room. 

Milo is half asleep in his crib, wrestling against his own exhaustion etched into his eyes. With a pout, he threatens to cry. 

Judging by the baby monitor placed near the crib, David figures you must have gone to sleep already.

"Hey, buddy. It's alright. Daddy's got ya" David whispers scooping his son up into his arms. 

"Yeah, it's alright. Daddy's home now. Thanks for waiting up though" he smiles down at Milo. 

"I appreciate the effort, but you're tired, little man. I am too, but if it's alright with you, 'kinda wanna just hang out with you." 

The voice on the monitor slowly pulls you away from the dreamless slumber. You frown and listen to the voice, but once you recognize it belongs to David, you smile and close your eyes again listening to his little interaction like it's a lullaby. 

"Sorry I didn't get stay home today. I tried to, but... Well, I guess you're a little young to hear that stuff. It doesn't really matter anyway. I'm just glad to be home with my boy." 

You hug your pillow and open your eyes to listen in further while David cradles his son in his arms. 

"Y'know, I didn't get to have this when I was your age. My old man, he decided being a father wasn't for him. I kinda hated him for that...until you came along."

Your brows narrow at his confession as you stare at the wall.

"I was scared shitless when we found out about you. Thought I wouldn't be a good dad, that I'd fail like he did. I never understood why he bailed, but I do now."

Milo's eyes grow heavier and heavier as he stares up at his father, letting his words lull him slowly back to sleep.

"I guess I kinda forgave him for it the day you were born. It's funny," he pauses to chuckle to himself. "How can someone so small teach so much? Maybe it's not for everyone. I still get scared sometimes, to be honest." 

Tears prick at your eyes as you sit up, reaching for the monitor to hold it closer. 

"Thank you for that, buddy. Thank you for making me a better man. For teaching me to forgive him."

David lets Milo's tiny hand wrap around his fingertip as the baby finally gives in and surrenders himself to sleep.

"I know I work a lot. I hope you'll understand I just want to make this world safer for you and your mom. I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you guys." 

You sniffle as you quickly wipe the escaping tears from your cheeks.

"But I do promise you this. I'm gonna be everything my pops wasn't. Teach you to ride a bike. How to kick ass in hockey. How to tie a tie. Your mom taught me that last one. It was kinda embarrassing, but don't tell her that."

You chuckle shaking your head as you stare at the monitor. 

"I'm gonna be the best dad in the world for you." 

His last promise is whispered as he palms the black hair on the top of his son's head. 

"Just be a little patient with me. You got a good ma, but she had role models to learn with. I didn't, you know? Doesn't mean I won't get there though." 

Sealing his promise with a kiss on the forehead, he carefully sets Milo back into the crib with the slowest and most gentle ease to avoid waking him up. 

"G'night, champ. I love you to the moon and back." 

As David walks to the hallway, he pulls the door behind him and leaves it half way open. 

You hear his footsteps coming to the bedroom. You quickly wipe your eyes to hide the evidence of your tears, but it's no use.

"Sorry, babe. I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, no. You didn't. I just..." 

Watching your head lower at the monitor in your hands, he nods. 

"You heard all that, huh?" He smirks with blushing cheeks as he removes the badge and gun from his belt to set them in the drawer of the night table next to his side of the bed.

"Oh, uh no. Just uh..  something about hockey?" You smile at him, eyes still wet.

"I know, I know. You don't want him playing hockey, but I'm telling you. It's inevitable when the lake freezes over, babe."

"It's violent" you smirk as he sits on the edge of the bed to untie his boots and sets them aside. 

"We'll let him decide then. It's only fair, right?" 

"Not if his decision is biased and heavily influenced by his father." 

You scoot closer to him and wrap an arm around his waist. With your palm rubbing at his chest, you kiss his broad back and rest your chin on his shoulder.

"Happy first father's day, babe."

He smiles and turns to kiss you properly. 

"Let's make another one" he whispers with a smirk, lips only a few centimeters apart as his nose nudges your cheek, hand squeezing your thigh. 

"Another what?" You chuckle smiling widely as your fingers thread into his gelled hair.

"Another kid. Doesn't have to be now. Doesn't mean we can't start trying though." 

"Oh, you're so slick, Detective" you chuckle caving in to his touch. "You really wanna have another one already?"

"I do, yeah" his body turns to you as his knee slides onto the bed, holding your hands in his. "I never thought I would actually say this, but being a father is one of the greatest things that's ever happened. I know I didn't think it would be, but I'd really like to have another one."

You nod and let his words sink in, gnawing at your cheek. Milo has really changed David.

When you told him you were pregnant, he had a panic attack strong enough to make him throw up. Witnessing the grizzliest crime scenes made David's stomach one of the strongest, but throw a baby in the mix and that changes rather quickly.

"Before I met you, it had been just me, sweetheart."

"What about Peter and Frankie and Paulie? I thought they were your family?"

"They are, yeah" he nods lowering his eyes to your hands in his as flashbacks from his time in the boys' home flutter through his mind.

Peter, Frankie and Paulie grew up with David in the boys' home. Although he still has every close ties to them, there's a longing in his heart that they couldn't ever really quite fill.

"When I was a kid, I saw the other kids with families and homes and siblings. The guys became my brothers, sure, but it wasn't the same. I want Milo to have a little brother or sister to love and cherish just as much as I love and cherish him, y'know?

You nod and your lips curl into a genuine smile. Time will never allow you to understand what David's gone through as an orphan, but it has certainly left marks on him that have been healing since you were both blessed with your son.

It warms your heart to know that David has embraced fatherhood to the point he wants to have another child. But part of you does wonder if it's not just a temporary band-aid on a wound that needs stitches, one much deeper than a simple surface scratch.

However, David's always been the most cautious with his words. He's had much practice with it on the job, always careful to make only promises he can keep.

If he's saying he's ready for another child, it's because it's been on his mind for a long time and he's thought it through very meticulously. He wouldn't take the risk of having a child just for the hell of it.

Children hold a sacred place in his heart. Having not had a family, he would never bring a child into the world to simply abandon and shun them into loneliness.

"Alright" you smirk at him. "Think we might have a girl this time?"

"Honestly? I really don't care what we have. I just wanna love the hell out of them."