#Yes you are free to ask whatever you wish to know about this

[eternadreeblissa]

Ok but the potential for Silent Prince Link. In that roleswap or so AU in BOTW

Listen, imagine him, the descendant of Hylia, trying to achieve his sealing powers but his prayers keep falling on deaf ears. The suffering he has to endure with a strict parent who doesnt give him much freedom, failing expectations so exceptionally well he beats himself up silently and secretly resents Hylia. We all know that but imagine inserting darling for a sec: he meets this person, who's been nothing but kind to him. They don't berate him or scold him, they don't expect much from him and wants nothing more but for him to be happy and given relief from his duties. His heart has never been touched and caressed so gently like soul, so he just, follows darling around, maybe roping them in strolls somewhere outside the kingdom. He takes every excuse to spend time with you, including skipping his training, or, maybe he has you with him instead of Zelda guarding him.

Now, his relationship with Zelda, isn't the greatest. One of the people who speaks their minds aloud to him (AKA near outright berating). I imagine this Zelda thinks he has it easy, or that maybe he's so privileged that he can do whatever he wants. Whatever it is she just got the wrong idea abt him. She doesn't like the fact she has to babysit him or smth guarding him; the guy avoids her like a plague anyway! (Asides from escorting him to the shrines and all. But on Link's side, he just didn't want to handle Zelda's criticism on him on top of his own parent's disappointment) she was living her best life being herself bonding with her mom, but she had to be taken away bcs she had the whole knight lineage thing under her name.

Anyway meeting darling was a breath of fresh air to him. I imagine he thinks of them as an escape: similar to how people escape reality. He spends nearly every waking moment with them, or at least as much as time and duties can allow. He never met someone who saw him for himself: as Link. Not the prince, not the descendant of Hylia. Just... Link. And she loved and cared for him like a real person.

Zelda, didn't exactly like this. Mostly bcs asides from already getting in trouble for not having Link in her vision as part of her job, if she lets you go on you might as well steal the prince away from Hyrule the more he skips duties and she might even be replaced. And while that would be awesome she'll be in even more trouble with the king or queen, AKA: Link's parent. She couldnt go back to the life she once had, not when it was taken from her and robbed of her childhood and all...

Yes, you and Link have to avoid Zelda a lot. He's actually pretty good at hiding. While he gets heavily lectured by his own personal guard its all worth it spending time with you.

But then... Hylia happened.

Why now, of all times, did his powers awaken and why of all people, did it have to be you? You were the real light of his life, in a world of darkness and oppression. The only one who gave him hope and more to live for than just his duties. Why now, when he was about to confess and run away with you, and he had you in his arms, did suddenly his own voice betray him? He wasn't himself— no, it wasn't him speaking AT ALL. THIS IS A DIFFERENT PERSON TALKING THROUGH HIM PLEASE STOP.

But he was helpless, helpless as his words were twisted to hurt you: no you weren't useless to him, you weren't in the way! You were everything he needed in life— no you were his life! He needed you! He truly loved you please! But your tears fell from his eyes, and just as he thought it was over, his hands glowed gold, he panicked, not understanding what's going on, but his hands were raised towards you, and his voice chanted; and in a bright flash, you were gone.

No. No... NO!

He fell to the ground. His life just came crashing down. Any light and joy and hope, all the good things he had in life, were taken with you as you were sealed— no, vanquished by his own hands. (he couldn't bear the thought he truly did seal you away from Hyrule forever)

It... It wasn't him. No it wasn't...

That light. That golden light. The one that his hands were forcibly used against you. There's only one person who he knows could do that to you: Hylia.

If he only disliked Hylia for putting him all through this not answering his call before, then he certainly hates her with every fibre of his being for making him lose you.

(Under the cut if yall are interested in how my OC Ava handles this! And it has some more details on how things happened—)

When she met silent prince link, he was out hiding from Zelda again and escaping from his well, life, while Ava stumbled into his world separated from the chain.

I imagine, she started off being all nice and everything to him. While Link is confused cuz this gal thinks he's the hero? Anyway, they started off a bit smooth at least and this first meeting alone had him enjoy her company, and wishes to see her more.

So they meet up more and more. Link clarified he wasn't the hero, or heroine in this matter, but didn't reveal he was the prince either. All he said to her was that, he was just Link, a nobody. And he wants to know more about her. Ava respected that, and they talked and all, but at some point Zelda found out abt her and shooed her off. (Link has never disliked Zelda more than he has now, astonishing really, currently nearly up with his resentment for Hylia)

Thank goodness he found her in some of the usual spots she visited. It was a good thing she told him about it too (if she hadn't he'd scour the entirety of Hyrule just to find her—) he tells her not to be discouraged to continue meeting up with him. He truly did enjoy his time together with her, and he doesnt like Zelda or pretty much all of Hyrule kingdom in general, sometimes including his own parent, and especially Hylia. He then spills his past to her, leaving his whole heart bare to her being.

Ava, in processing this, is then a little conflicted: His story is just like Wild's except... he's in flora's position? Wherever she is, she's somewhere very, very far. History can't be turned upside its head and forget everything and have... This. But how did it happen? Asides her thoughts, Ava understood, and would be more than happy to be there for him. Link couldn't be any more happier.

...There's just one problem: Hylia. She isn't sure how... They could continue on for long. She tells his she wants to stay a bit and help him out but, Hylia, as far as shes known that goddess, meddled a lot with her life. Often using Zelda to seal her away every time (sometimes she beats the Zeldas to it, by going back home on her own. Either the Zeldas sealed her away willingly, or forcibly, as there are some who didn't actually mean to do anything. Regardless, she was often in all sorts of troubles of messes because of her. All of this lore bit abt her can be explained for another day jsufbfhhb). She tells him Hylia doesn't like her, and if he's a descendant as he actually says he is, then she might.. use him against her.

Hearing all this, Link was furious. His resentment for that white goddess just increased a ton. He told her he won't let it happen. No matter what. He promises. Ava could only hope that promise can still hold true even with Hylia looming...

So they spent more time together, and they bonded a lot. But the King/Queen heard Link hasn't been doing his duty, (as if he hasn't already been slacking off in their eyes) so Ava didn't see Link for a few days and worried about him. The next time Ava saw a glimpse of him, he was out with Zelda, who seemed more of a hawk than she was before, heading out for training and everything.

It was quite horrid for Link :'(( so when he got back to her, he was latching onto her like a koala, wanting her attention on him and only him. If anyone tried to take her eyes away from him he glares and it's the most chilliest thing anyone has ever seen, nor did they even know Link was capable with that kind of expression! (Considering his lack thereof, in the public eye). Ava had to distract him and tell him to stop or at least, lessen that just a bit, as she takes him away somewhere more isolated where nobody will, hopefully get hurt. (He looks like he's just one breath away from hurling a book at someone's face—)

Anyway, Link wanted to catch back on lost time spent being away from her. And they did that! But again... Hylia happened.

After coming back to train once again or so, Link felt different. A bad different. He feels like he wanted to wash himself off from this feeling all over his body. He probs bathed like 3 times but, it didn't get rid of it. Probably bcs he despises Hylia a lot now and being around her mere statues or stuff just sickens him. He hopes all of that will be forgotten or washed away around Ava's presence but haha it couldn't be any more worse :'))) just like time and time again, Hylia used Link, awakening his powers and sealed her away.

...In the end, she didn't learn her lesson did she? Try as she might, leaving before she was sealed off from any of Hylia's vessels but, here she is. She stayed too long. She got attached again. She got both of them attached again and now, they're both going to be hurt, wounded from this. It's her fault she let this happen. She could only hug him in tears, trying to be there for him and comfort even though he spoke piercing words and trying to get her off from him. But deep down, this wasn't him. It was Hylia. Link always told her he loved her company and wanted nothing more but for her to stay. But just like before, with every link she met, no matter what she gets separated every. Single. Time.

So before she completely vanishes into the light and she burns in pain from its power, she could only tell Link, through her tears, she'll come back again. Just like before, as well. Because even though despite the fact she will always end up leaving or not staying for as long as she wanted, even though both her world and his wanted them apart, they'll just meet each other, again and again. In another time, or a different era, maybe a whole other world even. It cannot be helped, they were both connected. Maybe in his case, the hero's spirit didnt call her like it did with the others, simply because he doesn't have it, being Hylia's descendant. But somehow, even without it, she was here, met Link again, and similar scenarios were played. It's almost like... They truly were soulmates weren't they?

Because of that, she assures him: she'll come back, as a goddess. She'll train more, work harder, learn, just so she can stand against the selfish divine who kept meddling with their lives. She'll be there for him, and he won't have to suffer for so long in silence, but for now... It's farewell, until they meet again.

It was the one hope Link clung onto for dear life, as everything else in his world faded from mind.

[heartsforkento]

"open your eyes"  ➤ take maximum advantage of the law + don't limit yourself

first, know that there are no limits when it comes to the Law, and to help you understand this i'll be giving you examples:

you can distort time-space.

you can shift to a reality where geometry doesn't make sense (parallel lines meet, circles have sides etc.)

you can break every fundamental law of nature

you can manifest some shawarma to eat idk

you can be unbelievably good at everything you do

you can bring back dead loved ones

you can find out the answer to the greatest world mysteries

you can travel faster than light

you can manifest shawarma perhaps

you can manifest a genie that grants infinite wishes

you can comprehend 4D, 5D, 6D and all that

you can eat infinite shawarmas (perfect)

think of the craziest thing. yes, you can manifest that.

there are no limits to the Law, and

there are no limits when it comes to applying the Law.

these sentences mean different things.

let me ask you, what is the most tiring thing about applying the Law? is it the robotic affirming? the persisting? is it the negative thoughts that come in between sometimes?

back to the statement i made before. there are no limits when it comes to applying the Law. so, that means you could apply the Law to itself?

what this means is you can make assumptions about the Law and by the same Law, these assumptions will be true?

simply, if you assume that you don't need to have a positive mindset to manifest, you don't. if you don't need to constantly repeat one affirmation a thousand times, you don't. if getting into situations where you reaffirm the opposite are not relevant, then they aren't relevant.

don't read this blindly. understand that whatever about the Law gives you some discomfort, you don't need. and you can firmly establish that by making assumptions of this very Law.

let me ask you again. what is the most tiring thing about applying the Law? whatever it is, you can avoid doing.

as crazy as this sounds, it is true. not because i'm saying it, but it is true by Law. it is true by Law.

because what is the Law? "what you assume is the reality right now." this is the basic skeletal structure of the Law. don't add unnecessary extra bones to it. by adding extra bones, you may lengthen the skeleton, when that's not always needed. and this could cause discomfort.

so go ahead, kick and cry and scream out your frustrations. if you keep getting into situations where you affirm the opposite of your desires, go ahead. if you want to only say one affirmation, go ahead. if you want to use 'will' instead of 'is'' in your affirmations, do that. they say time doesn't matter.

robotic affirming, SATS etc., are all just elements of the Law. you are not mandated to do it.

even persisting. it's just an element of the Law. you only have to be fulfilled in imagination, and only that matters. not what you show to the 3D, not how you react to the 3D. as for being fulfilled in imagination, it has already happened once you've thought of your desires. you already have it; done. no need to remind yourself a hundred times that you do.

all you have to do is simply assume that you do not associate with your negative states and since we know that our assumptions make our reality, this assumption is now true. draw a line between the way you react to the 3D, and the way you act in imagination. you know that only the imagination matters. now, you are free to react negatively to the 3D. it's okay if you keep reaffirming negative thoughts accidentally (without intention). it will not affect you because you have strictly laid out an assumption that things like this are not going to affect you at all. also, you are free to use whatever words in your affirmation process, because you know that things like that don't matter, only the meaning and idea you hold behind it, like I've mentioned a couple times before.

once again, what you assume is true. that is literally it. avoid doing the things that don't make you happy. i've mentioned this somewhere before, but the concept of hard-work doesn't exist for manifesters. just because you're trying to get your dream life, doesn't mean you make sacrifices or make yourself uncomfortable with what you're doing now just for the sake of achieving your desires. you are happy with what you're doing now, and you will be happy with whatever you're doing in the future.

you could say that what i'm saying is wrong. that's an assumption you're making, so it will be true only for you. not for me, according to my assumptions, i do not have to affirm, do SATS or even persist.

we know that our 3D is not real, it doesn't matter. so why should the way you behave in the 3D or towards it matter? think about it. if only the imagination matters, then you can act like you own this place ... only in imagination? why should anything else matter?

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Can you please do a part two of the Sebastian fluff where he lets his thoughts get the best of him and gets anxious that reader now sees him as a monster because of what they read on his document so he prepares extra good items and plans to give them heavy discounts and even some free but reader barges in like

"MANTIS SHRIMP??? PUNCH SOMETHING RIGHT NOW"

And after a bit of reassuring(possibly some punching too bc reader is too starry-eyed for him to say no to em) Seb realizes he trully never had anything to worry about and just, generally grows fonder of reader?

Ps. Adore your writing, keep up the awesome work!!

"God, why did I let them take it? Stupid, stupid, stupid.."

Sebastian couldn't stop beating himself up, even though he knew he shouldn't care about the opinion of any human sent by Urbanshade--especially one of the "expendable" class.

Yet because it was you, specifically--who was currently in possession of his document--he began to wonder what you'd think of him once you found out the truth:

That he was nothing but a horrible monster. Plain and simple.

If not the knowledge that he was a hideous chimera of several sea creatures' DNA...then surely the revelation that he caused the lockdown of the Blacksite would ultimately make you resent him.

He released all those creatures, who stopped at nothing to prevent you from reaching the crystal and had you running, fighting, or hiding for your life.

He was responsible for all the injuries you've sustained while crawling into his shop, desperately needing a medkit and a place to rest.

He would understand if you'd never want to visit him again after what they documented about him..but the image of your furious expression and overthinking the words you'd possibly say to him left him feeling incredibly anxious.

Suddenly, Sebastian found himself gathering more supplies. Medkits, code breakers, and every light source he had currently in the shop, trying to market down whatever he could. He was even willing to let you take batteries for free...which was something he'd never normally do.

Would it be enough to make up for everything horrific you discovered about him and the terrors he indirectly put you through? Absolutely not.

Was he willing to try it anyways just for the small chance that you'd keep visiting him? Maybe.

No other human has shown him a single ounce of kindness or gratitude for his services. Nobody except you, of course, and he refused to lose that.

-thump, thump-

"Shit.." He froze, hearing movement in the vent duct, hands trembling for his light to shine brighter. Part of him wishes he could stay in the dark, as he didn't wanna see your face and whatever hurt expression it could possibly hold.

But he knew it'd be rude if you actually needed to buy something, so he forced himself to look as your familiar figure crawled out of the small opening. You seemed out of breath, like you were just running from something, and stood up to dust the dirt off your pants.

"Sebastian..I need to know something, and you need to be 100% honest with me."

The moment you pulled out his document, the shopkeeper could feel his heart sink.

"Wh..What did you want to know?" He asked, already bracing himself for the worst.

You sounded dead serious, and he was convinced you were finally going to let him have it.

You were going to force him to explain himself and his actions, and tell him what a monster he truly was. Literally and metaphoric-

"Its it true that you have mantis shrimp DNA????"

Silence.

Of all the possible outbursts he expected from you, that certainly didn't cross his mind.

Sebastian just stared down at you, utterly dumbfounded. He blinked several times, unsure if he was truly seeing the wide smile and starry-eyed look on your face.

He had been waiting for a deep scowl, eyes full of anger and betrayal and sadness that he wasn't the "friend" he claimed himself to be when you first visited his shop.

Yet now? He saw nothing but pure delight in your expression.

"Um..yes. But of alllll the things you read about me, that shocked you the most?" He was still treading carefully.

"Well, it sucks that you were an innocent guy who got thrown into a shitty situation." You gestured to him, frowning a little. "And I'm sorry you never saw justice, but...it's just SO cool that you're part mantis shrimp!" A grin returned to your face. "They've fascinated me for years! I used to watch videos of them all the time. Did you know the velocity of just one of their punches is equal to a .22 caliber bullet-?"

"Stop." He put a hand up, huffing. "At least some part of you must resent me. I mean...helloooooo, did you skip over the bit where I'M the reason those monsters are after you?! There's no way you could've ignored that..unless your brain turned off the moment you read "mantis shrimp"."

"I read everything, Sebastian." You huffed back. "Look, if I ever had to go through what you did..I think I'd wanna rebel, too. And as much as those monsters scare me, they've probably endured the same experiments as you. They probably felt just as trapped and afraid. You must see at least a few of them as your friends, right?"

"Eyefestation and the PAInter are the only ones I consider "acquaintances"." He answered after a long pause, shoulders slumped. "The anglers are primitive, but they recognize me as the one who freed them, so they don't bother me or my shop. The only creature that tends to be an issue is-"

-thump-

-thump-

Tensing, you looked over your shoulder to see a Wall Dweller emerge from the vent behind you, its mouth split open and drooling with hunger, standing on two legs.

"-that." Sebastian glared at the creature; and before it could run away, he blocked the entrance with his tail fin. "Oh no you don't." He swooped over to grab ahold of its head with his third hand, causing it to shriek and kick its legs as he held it up high. "You seriously need to stop eating my customers when they're trying to BUY SOMETHING!!"

The Dweller just growled at him, to which he ignored it and glanced down at you. "What should I do with this thing?"

"Punch it!" You grinned, your fists balled up in front of you as you hopped up and down. "I wanna see how fast you could throw one!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Pleeeeaaase?"

"..ugh, if it gets that stupid puppy-eyed look off your face, fine." He looked back at the Dweller, grinning widely as he cracked his knuckles. "You wanna eat something so bad? Try this."

"....grahh-?"

In a blinding flash, his fist went through the creature's skull, effectively turning its head into dust. Then he dropped the whole body onto the ground with a grimance. "Eugh..never done that before.."

Then he looked down at you again, seeing your smile brighten. "Hope that made you happy."

"It did, that was amazing!" You laughed, kneeling down to rip off a chunk of the Dweller's flesh. He eyed you strangely, his expression changing to a look of horror as you shoved a piece in your mouth.

"What the f...why would you eat that?!"

"It's okay! I've had this stuff before." You swallowed, feeling rejuvenated already.

"B....Before?! What you're eating is clay and acid-"

"Actually, it's fresh meat. Reminds me of poultry, almost. I found a document somewhere saying that it has regenerative properties." You explained to Sebastian, whose eyes only widened the more you talked. "I didn't believe it at first until I saw the Angler kill one. I was hungry and...eating it healed my electrical burn somehow."

".......why was that not in its actual document?" He muttered.

You shrugged, ripping out another piece and offering it to him. "Care for a bite?"

"I'll..pass. But thanks." Lowering his body closer to you, he frowned. "Are you absolutely sure that-?"

"I'm sure."

"..you didn't even know what I was going to-"

"You were worried about my reaction to your file. I could tell from the discount signs and how you were scared to even look at me."

"............."

"But I promise it doesn't change anything, okay? We're still friends, Sebastian, and I'll still swing by to do business with you." You reassured him, smiling as you patted the back of his hand, before noticing the bandage on his third arm seemed bloody. "Um..when's the last time you changed that?"

"...oh this? Erm..it's fine." He attempted to hide it behind his back. "Nothing you should be concerned abou-"

"Too late. It's my concern now. Let me repay you for saving my tail."

He had no time to protest, as you were already on your feet and running for the medkit that was on the table. You weren't worried about getting to the next zone right now.

Not that Sebastian planned on kicking you out anytime soon.

No.

Now that he was able to confide in you, he was genuinely beginning to enjoy your company--especially as you asked him to rest his arm across your lap. From there, your gentle hands went to work changing the bandage out for a fresh one, using an alcohol spray to keep the wounds from getting infected.

He hissed and cursed a few times at the stinging pain, but not once did he try to get you to stop.

Suddenly, it all began to hit him in this exact moment.

You were willingly playing nurse to a giant sea monster that has killed a man and was responsible for the terrifying things you had to witness down here.

He couldn't understand..but at the same time he felt relieved that all along he had nothing to worry about.

"Th-That's fine..thank you.."

Hearing a sniffle, you glanced up as Sebastian hastily took his arm away, "standing" back up and turning away from you. You just smiled and patted his tail comfortingly, not saying a word as you waited for him to collect himself.

For once, that snarky and sarcastic fish you've come to know was gone, and he was letting his walls down, finally realizing he could trust you.

Eventually he fell silent, and you wondered what to do now. You bought everything you wanted to earlier, so you didn't wanna overstay your welcome-

"Do you mind staying for a little bit longer?"

The question surprised you, but you smiled and nodded. "Sure. As long as you don't mind, shrimpy."

There was a pause, and he slowly looked back at you, pouting. "Big talk coming from someone as tiny as you, friend." He playfully sneered.

You just laughed and shook your head, glad to see him in better spirits.

Thanks to that scrambler on his back, you didn't have to worry about HQ getting on your ass about continuing the mission or threatening detonation.

You could definitely stay awhile and ramble about more mantis shrimp facts to Sebastian...if he was willing to hear them, of course.

[notafunkiller]

What if I am too much?

Summary: When Sam's girlfriend calls you clingy, you decide to give Bucky some space. What you don’t know is that he doesn’t want any space. None at all.

Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, angst, teasing, language, pet names, spanking, daddy kink, metal arm kink, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 2.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I want to thank @marvelouslizzie for her help!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

“Oh, you’re alone?”

You turn your head in the direction of the voice and smile politely. You don’t recognize this woman, but she looks at you like she does.

“Uh, yes. Hello!”

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

You instantly blush, ashamed, and search for Bucky’s face in the crowd. Nowhere to be found. Damn it!

“No, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says before coming next to you. “I’m Misty.” Brunette, tall and beautiful.

“Where did we meet?”

“Sam’s birthday, but I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. You were too busy clinging to Bucky’s side all night.” She sounds serious, and you freeze, having no idea where this came from. She simply laughs, grabbing your arm with some kind of bionic cold hand for a second before letting it go.

It’s not like Bucky’s. It’s more... robotic.

“Clinging?” You ask confused.

“Yeah, you know, always sitting with him, holding his arm, following him around.”

You puff, already annoyed by this random woman. “Following him around? I’m not a dog!”

“Didn’t say you are a dog, honey. Just pointing out the obvious.”

You try to hold your tongue, pushing aside the impulse to start a fight. This is a night about Bucky. Not you or your discomfort. And she is his ex-co-worker-friend’s girlfriend. Your anger can wait.

“Alright, but how does my clinging affect you, though?”

“Oh, don’t take it so personally! I just meant to be friendly. It’s a girl’s advice. Live a little, being insecure is not gonna save your relationship.”

A piece of advice no one asked for. A take you never even considered. You’re not insecure and you’re definitely not keeping Bucky to your side all the time. You don’t… He is free to do whatever the hell he wants.

“Thank you.”

She has the audacity to laugh. “Don’t be so defensive, honey! Gonna get a cocktail, want some?”

You shake your head, feeling a hole in your stomach after she leaves you alone, and you basically run to the bathroom, trying to calm down. What if she is right, though? What if Sam heard or saw something? Maybe Bucky is extra grumpy or unhappy. Maybe he even complained…

You never thought sitting with Bucky is a sign of clinginess. You thought it’d help... he is not the most comfortable person at events. He gets stared at a lot, he hates small talk, and you really like being close to him. Gosh, you are clingy!

The rest of the night passes like a blur. When you come back, Bucky’s waiting for you, and despite your instinct to wrap your arm around his back and let him hold you, you keep a little distance, giving Sam and his nosy girlfriend a fake smile, while Bucky keeps staring at you strangely.

You even manage to avoid touching him all week somehow, except for a few kisses now and then. Your period came, and as he tried to hold you, you had to fight tears while telling him not to. You’re sick and tired and you miss him, but you want to give him some space. You’ve been suffocating him for so long... You make sure to cry only when he’s out because he might hear you even in the shower. He has super hearing after all.

You thought it would become easier every day, but quite the opposite. Every time you’re close to giving up, you remember Sam’s comment that he made a week after you met him about how Bucky always likes his space and what Misty told you, so you fight against your wish.

Until Sunday afternoon.

You’re in bed, scrolling down on Instagram as Bucky comes out of the shower. You try not to stare at him, but how can you not? He looks absolutely incredible.

What you don’t expect is him trying to get on top of you to tickle you with a huge smile on his face. He’s so adorable.

“B-Bucky, stop!” You laugh as his hands get under your T-shirt. He loves making you laugh no matter how he does it. “N-no.”

“Oh, I will,” he says playfully.

But what he failed to tell you is that stopping means sneaking his head under your T-shirt, which starts to rip a little because of the stretch, and resting it on your boobs.

“Bucky!”

He puffs, annoyed. “Why the fuck are you wearing a bra in the house, bubba?”

“Cause it’s a bra?” You ask back sarcastically, but you know this is weird. You always complain about needing to wear it outside. But inside? It’s even worse.

“Unacceptable.” He quickly rips your bra in half, not bothering to unhook it, and you feel his beard on your breast all of a sudden, making you shiver. Fuck, you really miss this.

“B-Bucky, come on, your hair is a little wet!”

“Bubba, please...”

“Bucky! Why did you do that?” He immediately takes his head out of your T-shirt, and you almost cry. He looks do lost and scared.

“Baby, do you not want me anymore?”

“What the fuck?” You groan. This is the last thing you wanted him to think. All you tried to do was to make him happy and feel less pressured.

“You don’t let me touch you. You don’t want to cuddle with me. You don’t wake me up with kisses. You don’t get on top of me You don’t hug me! What did I do?”

Your heart aches for both of you. “Wasn’t that better?”

“Better for who?” He cries. “This was the worst week of my life since Hydra.”

“Unfortunately, that cannot be true, Bucky.” You sigh, getting closer to him. “I thought you like space...”

“I do, but not with my fucking baby!”

You melt at his words, truth be told. He said it so passionately, but you’re so confused.

“I thought I was being too clingy, touching you too much, you know?”

“What? Where did this come from?”

You close your eyes. How are you supposed to answer this without sounding like a petty bitch?

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does!” You feel his hands grabbing your face so you can look at him. “It means I did something wrong.”

You frown, upset that he thinks that. He’s been nothing but kind, understanding, and loving to you, and you hate how he feels like he failed you or something.

“Sam’s girlfriend told me I am clingy... always with you, never leaving you alone to breathe basically. And it reminded me of Sam saying how much you love your space, and I just...” You try not to cry, you really do, but you cannot hold back the tears this time, which Bucky immediately reaches to wipe with his flesh fingers.

“Jesus, baby! I don’t give a goddamn shit about what they say, you aren’t allowed to listen to anyone! Just let me touch you.”

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, and Bucky lifts you a bit so you can sit on his lap. You can hear his heartbeat, and you find that so peaceful.

“I thought you’re gonna break up with me, honey.” He whispers in your ear. “I was terrified when you didn’t let me cuddle with you.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” You don’t know what else to say. You hurt both of you for days just because you let some woman get inside your head, but you had good intentions. “I just didn’t want to be a burden.”

“I should be the one saying that, not you, bubba.” He leaves a kiss on your shoulder. “God, I missed you so much, it feels surreal to touch you.”

“I love you, I’m sorry.”

“Promise to never do this shit ever again!”

“I’ll try,” you murmur. “I didn’t realize you want me to touch you so much.”

Bucky lifts your head. “You know I have to punish you for that, right?”

“Punish me?” You ask surprised.

“Yeah, for believing some stranger over your man. For pulling away and giving me a heart attack. And for depriving yourself of my cuddling skills.”

You giggle. “What if I let you suck my nipples for a whole week anytime you wanted?”

“I already do that!” Bucky lifts your T-shirt as he speaks, and you gasp.

“You do not!”

“Yes, I do. Remember when I came home from the last mission and I made you come by-” He lowers his head and licks your right breast, avoiding your nipple.

“Fuck you, tease!”

“I am the tease?!” He snorts, continuing to lick.

“You’re always the tease. Now kiss me and gimmie your cock.”

“I won’t give you anything until I punish you.”

“Jamie!” You scream when he turns you around, ripping off your shorts in half, along with your underwear before placing you on his thighs. “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck to you for keeping yourself away from me.” You feel him caressing your ass for a few seconds before slapping your right cheek with his flesh hand. You squirm, gripping into his hip.

“F-fuck!”

“Count.”

You groan. “Jamie...” He spanks you again but harder, and this time you moan. “T-two.”

“Nope, we start over.”

“O-one.”

“Good girl!”

The third and fourth aren’t as hard as you want and you find yourself wiggling your ass in the air.

“Harder.”

“Harder?” He snorts, amused, and before he can bring his flesh hand in the air, you grab his metal arm.

“Please, daddy, use this one!”

Daddy? It didn’t take too long for you to get back in the mood.

“Can’t use it, baby, I’m sorry.”

“No!” You cry. “I need it, pleaseee. I’ll ride your face as many times as you w-want.”

Bucky still doesn’t agree. “Baby, it would hurt.”

“Let it hurt!”

You want it to hurt because this pain is not unbearable, quite the opposite. It pushes you over the edge faster.

He sighs and listens to you, bringing his metal hand to your ass, but you barely even feel it when he slaps. You groan, upset.

“I said slap! Do you want me to hover?”

“I can fucking hurt you.”

“I told you to hurt me!” You beg. “Please, honey! Please, please, please.”

He does it again, not hard enough for you, but you count anyway. Again and again.

“Jesus, you’re making my thighs so wet. You’re such a little whore for me.”

“I’m your whore. Always, daddy, please!”

Bucky’s moan comes somehow from the back of his throat, and the last spanks are perfect. He gently caresses your ass, cooling it off with his metal hand, and you smile. “You’re so dirty sometimes, but also such a good girl taking your punishment perfectly.”

“I am sorry,” you whisper.

“For what exactly?”

You pout, grabbing his face. “For all of it. But you’re you, Bucky. You’re the greatest guy in the world, I just didn’t want to be annoying.”

“You were annoying when you didn’t let me even hug you.”

You know that, but sometimes you can’t help but do dumb things, thinking about him. “I wanted you to be happy.”

“Well, I wasn’t happy, obviously. And neither were you, bubba. Promise me you’ll talk to me first next time.”

“I was just stupid…”

“No.” You feel his thumb all over your lips. “You were worried. I love you and I really need your touch, okay?”

“I noticed,” you laugh.

“Good, now feed me my boobs, and then I wanna see you riding my face as you negotiated.”

You fake sigh and grab your boob. “Open up.”

*

You’re not sure how to react when Bucky drags you straight to Sam and his girlfriend as soon as you get inside the museum.

“Hey, Buck-”

“Who do you think you are?”

Misty gasps while Sam and you freeze.

“Wow, wow, wow, man. Hold on a sec, what is going on?”

“What is going on, Samuel?” Bucky asks rhetorically through his teeth. “Ask your little girlfriend where she got her audacity from to tell my girl she is clingy. That she basically spends too much time with me. Who the fuck gave her the permission to even speak to her? So she either apologizes and keeps her mouth shut, or we’ll have a big problem.” Bucky turns his head to look at Misty. “From one metal arm to another. Wanna try me?”

“You did what? What the hell?”

Misty frowns, staring at you. “You went to complain to him for giving you a friendly, harmless advice?”

Bucky instantly grabs her metal arm wrist before you can answer.

“You got three seconds to beg for her forgiveness before I snap your hand in half. And I am not bluffing.”

Sam doesn’t even try to get between them, simply watching, and Misty immediately gets teary.

“I’m... sorry.”

Bucky shakes his head, squeezing her wrist. Holy shit! You haven’t seen him like this in ages. “Didn’t hear you.”

“I am sorry. I should have minded my own business!”

“Yes, you should’ve,” you say without regret. “But I forgive you.”

Bucky lets go with a grunt before nodding to Sam and bringing his hand to your hips, leading you toward the exit.

As soon as you are outside, you don’t even care if someone can hear you as you speak. “Fuck, I wanna suck your cock so badly!”

Bucky laughs. “I see. In the car… is that okay for you?”

You get on your tiptoes to kiss him. “Perfect.”

[missyandthemisfits]

Tokyo Revengers-Do They Believe In Sex Before Marriage?

18+ WARNING, NSFW

Mikey – Pfft, do you even have to ask? He’s got NO qualms about sneaking (it’s not sneaky at all) you off from the group in-between meetings and giving you the most satisfying of quickies, needy and demanding as he pushes you up against the alleyway wall. Quite the exhibitionist this one. No, the real challenge will be convincing Mikey that marriage is something worth having  ‘cause let’s face it, he ain’t buying what they’re selling. 

Draken – Honestly, he would much MUCH rather be wed before he’s plowing his impressive length down into your slick, but alas, he’s a man with needs and desires. That said, if you really wanna wait until marriage, he’s not forcing you to do anything you don’t want. He will, however, ask for other things, to give and to receive them. 

Mitsuya – Oh, he’s a man on a mission to be married with children, I can assure you of that. He probably wants to be married before making his dream of having you a moaning mess of a person beneath him come true. Buuut, he’s all for fooling around beforehand if you are. And if you wanna wait, he’s waiting, no questions asked. #Gentlemengonnagentleman

Hakkai – Baby boy really really wants to wait until marriage, he’s hella embarrassed about even thinking about you in those compromising positions, spread so deliciously for him and only him. But also, he’s incredibly weak willed when it comes to you and your wishes so despite weak protests, he’s not stopping anything. As a religious man though, he will feel guilty about it.  

Baji – He absolutely intends to sleep with you before he pops the question – gotta take the car out for a test drive before you purchase it, right? (Words uttered only to Chifuyu who is sworn nay threatened to secrecy). He fantasizes about being balls deep in you like clockwork and when he finally gets that chance? He’s not giving it up for anything. Feel free to try and stop him. 

Chifuyu – He’s torn, he really is. Has he fantasized about you exposed to him in a mating press? God yes. But does he also think there’s something incredibly and undeniably romantic about waiting until your wedding night? Also a strong yes. Decides he can’t make that type of decision, so whatever you want is what you’ll get, 100%. 

Takemichi – HaHA – let him tell it and ‘I-It’s only natural for a hotblooded young man to want those types of things! Right…?’ Grade A dork. But truth be told, he wants to wait as long as he possibly can (he’s afraid he’ll mess it all up) , he’s really aiming until the marriage thing but knows things just happen, like that one time you were clawing at his jeans on your knees- still fantasizes about that, the horn dog.

Atsushi – He wants to wait. His mother raised him on strong values and he’s not keen on disrespecting you or himself by taking things farther than he, or you, think they should go. Now, will he lap at your most sensitive bits like a dog in heat? Yea, but I mean, that’s not really going all the way, ya know? Gotta love loopholes. 

Nahoya – Maaaan oh man is this boy pervy. Within the first month, he’s got his hands on your ass with that devilish smirk, making all sorts of dirty jokes and disgusting remarks. Wants it and wants it bad. Tries his best to be respectful but has a very hard time stopping at just your sexy mouth, even if he just came. Stop him from going further and he will be frustrated, frowning for once. Doesn’t even know if he fully believes in marriage, he just wants to be inside you as long as you’ll tolerate him – or for as long he can tolerate you. 

Souya – The total and complete opposite of his twin – where Nahoya can be incredibly pushy and demanding, Souya is all light touchs and sweet nothings, asking permission for everything, from hand holding to kissing. In an ideal world, he’s waiting until you’re both married (which he plans on being) to make you his completely. Incredibly honored (and nervous) that you even asked him to pleasure you with his tongue, and what a surprisingly skilled tongue it is. Doesn’t expect more, doesn’t even expect reciprocation, perfectly happy just pleasing you - so when you do palm at his hardened and constrained member, lowering yourself to your knees well… who is he to deny you? Not like he could say ‘No’ if he tried. 

Kazutora – Poor dear is traumatized – doesn’t honestly know whether or not he believes in marriage and it shows in the way he stops everything at the question. He can’t promise you he’ll ever come to a real conclusion, but what he can promise you is that he will be by your side for as long as you’ll have him, a lifelong partner. His kiss goes from sweet to hungry in a matter of seconds though, and he’s on top of you before you know it, eyes begging for you to help him to his release. 

Hanma – Never even considers the idea of marriage before you, too preoccupied with curing his boredom to really care either way. However, he finds himself considering the notion, genuinely excited about it and suddenly, he can’t wait. He’s not looking for anyone else once he’s locked in, sincerely �� but getting him to stop his long fingers from slowly moving in and out of you was something you always struggled with. Fuck, would you be able to keep your own promise at this point? 

 Taiju – You might be surprised but as someone who devotes himself to his religion, he thinks it’s only right to wait until marriage, almost impatiently waiting, praying, for the day you take his damn near monstrous length like the good slut you are. Until then, he’s more than happy to prep you with his admittedly very large fingers. Good luck! 

Kokonoi – More concerned with whether or not you’re able to have an intellectual conversation with him really, pretty low libido. More than likely, he’ll wait until marriage, it’s not a bother or inconvenience to him in the slightest. More than happy to have your back against his chest, lazily playing with your naughty bits while enjoying a good movie, chin resting on your shoulder. May ask for reciprocation every now and then, but he’s a whiner so that’s fun. 

[zhongrin]

skilled fingers, devious heart

© zhongrin | 2024  ✼  no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

✼ characters ┈ al haitham

✼ tags ┈ minors dni, fem-bodied reader (reader has a pussy), bratty!reader, manhandling, restraints, orgasm denial/control, edging, brat taming, light degradation, oral, light spanking, overstimulation, hint of c█rr█pt█d!haitham (hence he has his mean moments), aftercare, longfic (3.6k+)

✼ a/n ┈ “let me just draft a quick birthday oneshot for al haitham!” ー meirin, a total clown, circa 2024 /silly ..... anyways, happy birthday to the silliest man in sumeru. i love him dearly and i love that his bday is literally just a day away from my mom and one of my besties. very convenient to remember lol also, happy chinese new year!!! ✨

ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)  ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

when you asked your boyfriend what he wanted to do for his birthday, you didn't think he would ask for this. then again, al haitham was mostly an unpredictable man, even to you as his lover. he seemed to have a knack for constantly having you on your toes, always anticipating his next actions and reminding you how much of a complex individual he was despite his simple aspirations in life.

such as now, when he requested you to ‘spread your legs and stay still’.

contrary to him, your answer was - at least in his eyes - predictable. a raise of eyebrows, a fox-like grin tugging on your lips, and al haitham could already hear the smug tone of your voice before you could even spoke the words, “make me.”

the fact that you loved to play a dangerous game with a dangerous man always came back to bite you in the ass, but your boyfriend played his part so well, it kept you coming back for more. he knew just the right way to respond to your challenge that made you shiver with want: muscles flexing as he pinned you down onto your shared bed, your preferred choice of restraints keeping you immobile and indecently spread for his blooming green eyes to observe. his pupils lined with brick reds dilated, the scholar stared at the resulting sight like a museum curator appraising an acclaimed artwork.

despite this, you were a fervent fire ablaze in the face of downpour, “it’s not like you to brute force your way into tackling a problem. was this morning’s session not enough for mister feeble scholar?”

ah. this artwork sure has a feisty personality to it.

al haitham snorted, his arm moving to place a hand on your inner thigh, tracing circles and indescribable patterns, “why do you bother futilely talking back and acting resilient in front of me, when it’s obvious how much power i hold over you? even the brightest students know to learn from their mistakes, so have you not learned from this morning about how powerless you are?”

he would never admit it, but while such display of bullheadedness irritated him when it came from other people, somehow it was almost adorable coming from you.

“wh- i'm not powerless!”

“the facts proved against your favor, however. especially considering how i’ve just succeeded in tossing you onto our bed and holding your body down. i know i could do whatever i wanted with you… and i was right, wasn’t i?” the hand holding your thigh squeezed briefly, his breath slowly caressing your skin the more he leaned closer, “besides, it’s also been proven that you like such treatments.”

you blushed, memories that proved his claims flooding your mind. yet, you huffed and looked away in hope to alleviate the warmth that was starting to bubble on your cheeks.

“so you might be needlessly strong physically, yes, okay, whatever. would you like a gold star for that?”

unfortunately(?) for you, despite the biting words, he didn’t miss the signs of your flustered state. his voice was as leveled as ever as more silken words fell from his lips; the very same ones you wished would just kiss you already, “remember how I pinned your hands above your head? how you tried kicking and wriggling, saying how you ‘can’t’ and yet… we both knew what exactly happened after that, don’t we?”

you felt your core clench at the taunt, throat swallowing at the picture he painted. your legs tugged against the straps as if you wanted to kick him. in turn, all you got back was an amused low chortle.

“cute,” the soft remark almost flew by you, but alas, before you could snap back at him, his touch started to trail further, tracing your labia before spreading the pink folds open with his fingers. an embarrassed squeak by you was followed by a condescending hum by your partner, his eyes zeroing on the slick coating your pretty clit and inner lips that oozed the remnants of your prior lovemaking, “and so mouthwateringly indecent.”

his digits dragged against your dripping cunt, a teasing smirk dancing on his face when a soft noise left your throat in response.

"such a mess," he remarked, infuriatingly nonchalant as if he hadn’t loved you so intensely just a few hours ago, “you were truly, completely cockdrunk last night, weren't you?"

“s-shut up…”

“why should i? you’ve mentioned how much you liked my voice. i doubt your perspectives had changed since then.”

“you don’t know that. maybe i don’t like it anymore,” you countered pettily.

“yet your body seems to arrive at a different conclusion,” the languid lull in his voice couldn’t mask the delight he experienced as he saw your sopping wetness drip with want. your lover smirked, dragging his finger up and down slowly, gathering your slick to circle around your swollen pearl, feathery touches leaving you wanting for more. the way you were shaking, your body twitching from sensitivity in return of his ministrations, was almost as hot as actual sex itself.

“ah… you meanie-” you inhaled sharply as this wicked, wicked man purposefully started rubbing your clit in the way he knew would make you putty in his hands. firm and calculated flicks followed by a finger slipping into your creamy cunt made you keen wantonly, thighs momentarily spreading wider before you found your decorum, rear falling back onto the soft sheets, teeth biting down on your bottom lip.

al haitham watched in fascination as you tried to regain your attitude. he wondered how long that would last this time. you were a puzzle that enthralled him, a chorus he wanted to listen forever. he might not have been studying under kshahrewar back in his younger days, but there was a part of him that wanted to pick you apart and put you back together again.

this was why he was so addicted to you.

he didn’t particularly enjoy doing extra work, but given the reward waiting for him at the end of the road, he determinedly doubled his action; one finger tapping and circling, the other knuckle-deep inside your tight heat, intense and unforgiving.

“fffuck- h-haitham-” the stutter of your needy voice sharpened his smirk, expression hardening into focus as he observed the twitch of your hips and the rivulets of juices coating his appendages. he briefly admired the way your skin glowed in perspiration, the way your fleshy parts rippled as you squirmed under him. no words could properly capture the desire brewing and consuming his whole being at having the privilege to witness such a sight.

he saw your breathing quicken, felt the clenching and unclenching of your walls, the way you started to move your hips as far as the restraints allowed, and your abdomen dipping as you inched nearer and nearer to bliss.

a mean glint of red, and his fingers withdrew quickly.

“wha- ah?”

you blinked and panted, eyes snapping wide as the coil loosened, and your sight settled on al haitham’s smug tilt of his head.

“i told you to stay still.”

“you… you prick! meanie! bastard!”

“that’s not the attitude you should be adapting given the current position of power,” he chided, before his hand deviously dropped back to its previous position, resuming in a much teasingly slower pace; a silent implication of what he could have done but chose not to, ”if you beg nicely, maybe i’ll allow you to cum. but be warned, you’ll be doing it until i am satisfied.”

“-son of a- oh! a-ah-” your words failed you as he added one extra finger into your warmth, prodding just near your favorite spot within the gummy walls, yet never directly.

you knew he could go deeper. he was dangling that carrot over you, and you were tempted to fall for his little game.

“pardon? what was that?” he asked, and if you didn’t see the way the corner of his lips curl up through your bleary eyes, you might have believed that he truly missed your barrages of insults born out of frustration, “would you like to say it louder?”

“archons, you- j-jerk!”

“oh?”

the sudden shift of his touch, turning firmer and faster, made you gasp and whimper, body twitching involuntarily as you felt the sensation build up yet again. your toes curl and your calves tensed, tugging against the harness as your biting words turned into needy moans. a shudder rocked your body, the back of your head digging onto the soft mattress as you felt him mouth on your collarbone, nibbling, tormenting in the most delectable way.

“use your words, darling. you were so smart with them just seconds ago.”

“haa- ngh! j-just let me cum, you unfair little-”

al haitham sighed like a disappointed tutor who had just discovered that his best student had earned an F in their recent exam. the sudden loss of his touch and the way you were forced to come down from that white-hot lines of satisfaction yet again made you cry out, the restraints straining noisily as you tried to buck onto something, anything.

a smirk returned onto his face as he witnessed your verbal and physical protest. that’s right, not yet. this was why he adored your stubbornness. he was going to tease and torment you until you were a total wreck, and then he would give you your reprieve in multitudes.

“how obstinate of you to continue denying your desires even when all outcomes dictate your loss,” the man remarked, palming your soft thighs and enjoying the way they dipped under the pressure of his hands. he was tempted to leave a few reds in the shape of his handprints, but he refrained… for now. that can come later.

“h-haitham….,” you mustered the wettest puppy eyes you could manifest - which wasn’t that hard considering the tears of pleasure already pooling in your eye lines - and blinking though your lashes at him, an adorable pout on your lips.

“what? is something missing to really help you release all of that tension?" he faked an indifferent tone fully meant to provoke.

you groaned, shivering as you felt the cold air brushing your flushed skin and swollen bundle of nerves begging for attention, “al haitham...!” you whined while quivering, eyes blown in desire, your pride refusing to budge any more than this.

the man smirked as your protests weakened with every seconds that ticked, the look of desire and lust in your eyes clearly increasing in intensity the more he reveled in your plight.

"hm?" he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, "still being stubborn?" he moved his middle finger towards the folds of your pussy, dragging it along your indecently leaking entrance and up into your aching clit, swirling slowly and making you shiver in response. even the smallest movements resulted in a sound that showcased how drenched you were, and it was all according to his plans, "are you sure you want to keep playing this game? you know who’s the more patient one in this relationship… you’re all tied up and i’m free to do this all day if i wanted to. i wouldn’t mind — it would be a good way to spend my day off.”

eyes teary, teeth gnawing on your lip, you bucked your hips as his finger touched the swollen nerves directly this time, "s-shut up...! you’re so- ugh! if you’re gonna be so cruel then don’t touch me at all!"

your beloved chuckled, dragging his digits up and down in the same teasing motion, playing with your sensitivity with a touch that sent you teetering to heaven but bordering to hell with how tortuously slow it was. he was a master as you were a slave to pleasure; your moans ramping up into wounded desperation just as he guided you back into the tightrope of lust, spiraling into the ecstasy you so desperately sought. you sobbed and trembled; heart beating loudly in your ears. you were so helplessly pent-up, so deliciously close-

“beg.”

the devil’s voice entered your ears and you grit your teeth. he wouldn’t, right? not for the third time. no, he wasn’t that despicable, he wouldn’t. he’ll give it to you, he’s-

“beg.”

the pressure lightened, and you inhaled sharply.

“please!” the word fell from your lips before you could stop them, “i need- i want…!”

your boyfriend stopped, a trail of your slick followed his appendages’ ascent as he withdrew to appreciate the stream of glistening slick coating your tender pussy and how your hips canted, trying to guilelessly chase his touch, throat singing a needy whine that sounded so beautiful he was almost tempted to keep denying your release for the next hour.

“haitham, please, please!” you sounded so high-pitched and so utterly adorable, he couldn’t help but place a peck on your thigh. tears of relief joined your tears of pleasure as you saw his pleased smile and the way he complied with your begging, though it still wasn’t enough.

“yes? don’t just call my name, darling. elaborate. go on, you can do it,” he carried on with the slow circles around your throbbing clit, fingers barely pumping into your drooling cunt.

“please! i can’t take it anymore…!" you hiccuped, keening, abdomen twitching, so sensitive that the slightest touch was making you toe on the brink of insanity.

al haitham smirked wickedly, watching as your mind and body were losing that self-control, your hips rocking back and forth while your face and eyes colored with pleasure. breathing in disarray, body a quivering mess, he almost wished he had a kamera to immortalize this perverse scene.

“are you asking me to help you release?”

“b-begging! i’m begging you- please let me cum!” you were definitely on the edge, shuddering, legs trying to flail against the tight bondage. a pleased groan rumbled in his throat, and his hand finally reverted into the pace and motions that made you see stars.

“louder,” a command.

“please help me cum!!!”

your muscles tensed as you tasted the precipice of bliss, your lips babbling, chanting his name and a series of undignified pleadings that implored him to not stop this time. you received an approving hum for your clear show of subservience and a soft peck on your cheek that made you moan in appreciation.

“i hope you didn’t forget what i said earlier,” he whispered against your ear, sultry and littered with hidden mischievous intent that you completely missed, too focused on reaching that high with each flick of his wrist and with each pressing prod of his finger—

the expertly placed thrust onto your g-spot was the cause of your crumble into depravity; walls sucking him in as your back arched in your climax. lips open in a silent scream, you missed the adoring look of your lover as he watched you spiral into bliss.

ah, your blissful ignorance is always so, so delicious to see.

before you could even start to wind down from your intense release, the sinful appendages picked up their salacious endeavors once more, three of them stirring your sopping wet mess and massaging your sweet spot relentlessly. al haitham’s mouth latched on your swollen bundle, his tongue flicking and sucking in turn, savoring your sweet taste and basking in your erotic cries that followed.

“can’t! can’t- too much! h-ah-ngh-!”

he ignored your feeble protests in favor of focusing on the task at hand; tongue lapping on the copious juices dribbling out of you as he pumped the slender fingers right onto your sensitive pussy’s weak spot. the sounds of your wetness echoed indecently in the room, a lewd orchestration of sensuality accompanied by your reprehensible babbling.

the second orgasm crashed against your senses and you sobbed, whining and jolting as he helped you ride it to your most satisfaction. eyes rolling, you barely registered the way he lapped at your juices like a man starved, before pulling back to observe the effect of his unholy actions. and he must have seen something, for when your vision cleared from euphoria, he had taken to caress you once again.

“one more. you can give me one more,” the rasp in his voice sent a jolt of desire in your loins, yet at the same time, the overstimulation had started to settle in. this time, the pleasure made your whole body tremor and for once you had no idea if the straps were a blessing or a curse; your limbs flailed and strained, instinctively writhing at the assault of stimulation.

“f-fuck! oh! a-archons- my love, please!!”

“i told you, didn’t i?” he purred, salacious and mocking, a flicker of red and a sneer, “’if you beg nicely, maybe i’ll allow you to cum. but be warned, you’ll be doing it until i am satisfied.’ well, my love, i am not yet satisfied.”

all senses of modesty had been thrown out of the window at this point. a series of disgraceful noises left your throat, tears running down your temples as you stayed rooted to your spot on the bed, oxytocin flooding your brain and numbing your senses. stringing words proved to be difficult when you were oversensitive and your lover seemed determined to see you mindless and utterly ruined by his touches.

if before, you were a helpless traveler stranded on a desert chasing on the mirage of an oasis, this time you felt like you were drowning in an ocean full of pleasure. all senses submerged in the ruthless waves of unbridled desires that made you both paralyzed and set you aflame.

“look at you,” al haitham's words came out harsh despite having a pleased hum to it as he battered your fleshy nub harder, insistent and undeterred by your unconvincing protests. he smirked, pleased with your cries and senseless noises leaving your lips, free from your brain’s usual filtering. your mind and body were already beyond your control as he slowly edged you closer and closer to that sweet release yet again. “so needy for me. gushing endlessly like you’re in heat.”

he watched you writhe and quake, a sliver of drool escaping the side of your opened mouth, his cock straining against the confines of his pants, but oh, he was enjoying every second of it. his free hand palmed your thigh before delivering a light slap, his eyes dilating when it made your breath hitch and your body jerk. each impact brought you to the absolute edge of delirium, and every time the pads of his fingers grind and stretched your gummy walls, the more debauched pleas left your emptied mind.

“c-cumming! cumming! i’m close, love, please! i’m- ah—”

“good,” it was almost sadistic, how he seemed to take so much satisfaction from seeing you so shamefully addicted to his mere fingers, “then come.”

a choked sob and a few insistent taps onto your oversensitive clit took your vision into a realm of whites. your finish was immaculately designed to enrapture you in a burst of nothingness, where nothing else mattered but you and your boyfriend's eloquent expertise. ears ringing, your consciousness temporarily froze in the state of heavenly rapture.

when you came down from the vivid paradise, you found your limbs freed from the restraints, your lover dutifully checking the reddened skin to make sure you hadn’t caused any injuries to yourself. seeing your glazed eyes settling onto his form, he leaned over and stroked your cheek, speaking in a soft voice with a caring tone far too detached from the demeaning and authoritative tone just moments ago.

“you did so well.”

though your senses were totally fried from the overstimulation and you still couldn’t exactly feel your limbs, a loopy grin spread on your lips. soft pair of green eyes watched you in adoration as he tucked you onto his chest, a gentle kiss descending on top of your head as he cradled you within his arms.

“verdict from one to ten?”

“mmmm…. twenty.”

“hm. it appears you’re still more delirious than i judged.”

a playful swat to his side was all you could manage, and you were rewarded with the rare soft laugh of your usually stoic lover.

“you’re adorable.”

“and you’re mean.”

“you speak as if the attitude does not bring you joy.”

“shut up and cuddle me.”

“ordering me around on my birthday? you’re spoiled.”

“and whose fault is that?”

“mine,” al haitham admitted with a smile, silently grateful for your presence, your witty banter, your hardheadedness, your loving eyes, your everything — you, who were undoubtedly and indubitably….

“mine,” he repeated and pressed another kiss, this time to your lips: a silent promise for spending his next birthdays with you once again.

bonus:

“still,” you sighed into his hold as your breathing steadied, looking up at him in half curiosity and half concern, “this doesn’t seem like a birthday present for you.”

al haitham looked down at you, the mischievous glint in his eyes returning. he guided your hand, and your small daydream of him being unusually romantic to initiate hand holding before spewing some cheesy lines like in those light novels were dashed when you found a familiar hardness twitching against your palm.

“bold of you to you think that my appetizer was the main course.”

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈ @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @sunnshineflxwer | @yuutasbabe | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @marina-and-the-memes | @mixed-kester | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @sassy-cat-in-town | @syrenkitsune | @smokipoki | @cakeboxie | @crystalflygeo | @ciexuvia | @illaasya | @celestewritestoomuch | @pams-comfortzone | @spidermanluvr444 | @ourstrawberryclouds | @ryuryuryuyurboat | @hrts4hanniehae | @fiannee | @jingyuansbird | @florapocalypses | @genshin-impacts-me | @scarasmood | @hellcatinnc

[percervall]

it's a bad idea (fuck it, it's fine) — part 1

Summary: your housemates give you an offer you can't refuse. What's the worst that could happen? Pairing: Jenson Button x fem!reader, Fernando Alonso x fem!reader, Sebastian Vettel x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: smut, dirty talk, mild degrading, oral (m and f receiving), face fucking, fingering, slight nipple play, hinting at m/m, mentions of free use, *gasp* and they were room mates Word count: 1.9k

Part 1 of the Fuck It series

The arrangement was, frankly, absurd. Had the offer come from anyone other than Jenson, you would have kicked them so hard they wished you had punched them instead. Part of you hoped he would have forgotten what he had said while heavily under the influence of too much champagne, but luck was not on your side. 

"Have you thought about my offer?" Jenson asks, innocently blowing on his coffee, making you choke on air. 

"The offer in which I pay my rent by, wait let me check my notes. Ah, yes, 'fucking you'," you reply, voice a lot steadier than you feel. Because truth be told, it had been impossible to not fantasise about getting railed into next week by him- by any of them. Oh, you were well aware of how much your life had become the plot of a rom-com ever since your landlord decided to be an absolute greedy bastard. Become a live-in house sitter for 4 millionaires they said, it'll be fun they said. Liars.

"Oh come on, it'll be mutually beneficial," Jenson argued. 

"Proud of you for using your big boy words, pretty boy but how exactly is this gonna end up in anything other than disaster?" 

"He's hungover and a himbo, why are you bullying him?" Mark mutters, voice still rough with sleep as he literally picks you up and unceremoniously plops you down on top of the counter. There are days where you curse your small stature and his strength, especially when it leaves your brain stuttering to process getting manhandled. 

"We'll set rules. All I'm saying is we're all adults-.." You can't help but snort at that. "Fine, whatever. I'm just saying that I've seen the way you look at them, seen the way your eyes flash with lust and I am pretty sure some truly filthy fantasies, and I know I can speak for all four of us when I say we would love to help you realise those. Also, we don't need your rent money and this is just so much more fun." Well then. You just got read for filth before even having had your morning coffee. Fuck him for seeing right through you. 

"Where's your sense of adventure, nena?" Fernando comments, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Right next to my 'I survived Multi-21' t-shirt," you mutter. It's a low blow, but getting bullied into sleeping with four drivers makes it hard to think.

Mark shoots you a look, eyebrow raised. 

"The mouth on you," he comments, "Seb was very apologetic. Made it up to me in the best possible way. In fact, I should make you apologise to the both of us the same way, sweetheart. On your knees." He whispers the last part in your ear and you cannot contain the whimper that comes out at his thinly veiled threat.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being made to kneel and take cock like the good little girl you are, hm?” 

“Mark-..” You have no idea how to respond to that and keep your dignity in tact. You try to look away but Mark takes your chin between his forefinger and thumb.

“I asked you a question sweetheart. Are you gonna be a good girl for us?” His thumb tugs on your bottom lip and all rational thought leaves you as you nod. 

“Mm, knew JB was right about you. Takes one to know one, I suppose.” You can hear a muffled what the fuck’s that supposed to mean? from the living room as Mark helps you down from the counter. You hadn’t even noticed the McLaren teammates had left the kitchen until just now. 

“On your knees, sweetheart,” Mark nudges you and you sink down onto the floor. The small kitchen runner is the only thing protecting your knees from the cold hardwood floor, but the prospect of sore knees is quickly forgotten now that you’re at eye level with Mark’s crotch. You can clearly see the outline of his hardening cock against his shorts and it has your mouth watering. Mark chuckles as he notices the hunger in your eyes.

“You’re lucky Seb is out for a run. Or maybe I’m the lucky one, getting to fuck this mouth all by myself.” The whimper you let out is involuntarily as you eagerly watch him hook his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts, pushing them down far enough to free his cock. You scoot a little closer, taking him in your hand, tongue darting out to lick away the bead of pre-cum. Mark hisses, head thrown back and that’s all the encouragement you need to suck the tip into your mouth. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he says, sounding absolutely wrecked already despite you not even having done anything yet. 

“You said something about fucking my mouth?” Mark looks down at you, pupils completely blown and he grins so wickedly, it leaves you breathless. 

“Are you absolutely sure sweetheart?” As you nod in response, he gathers your hair into a ponytail in his fist, angling your face. “Alright then. Tap my thigh twice if it’s too much and I will stop, okay?” 

“Okay,” you parrot, and move your legs apart ever so slightly to stabilise yourself. Mark drags the tip of his cock across your lips and you open up for him. He slides in, careful to not immediately choke you. You relax your jaw as much as you can, but god it’s been so long since you last did this. Mark sets a slow rhythm, letting the both of you adjust. Looking up at him through your lashes, you can see how he’s trying to hold on to the last shreds of self control, and well. That just won’t do. 

“Mark,” you say, slightly out of breath as you pull back, “you taunted me with using me. So for the love of God, fucking use me.” Mark chuckles and the sound has you aching. He tightens his grip on your hair and slides his cock back into your mouth. Resting your hands on his thighs, you close your eyes as he finally delivers on his promise. The sounds are obscene and if you had a functioning brain cell left, you would have been concerned about the two of you doing this in the kitchen, but as things stand, the only thing you can focus on is Mark’s throbbing cock inching down your throat. Forcing yourself to open your eyes, you look at him as you swallow around him. 

“Fuck. Fuck. I’m not gonna last, sweetheart,” he groans, pulling back. You hollow your cheeks while taking deep breaths through your nose, pulling another string of curses from the Aussie. You can feel his cock throb as he grunts above you.

“Gonna-.. Fuck.. So good, you feel so fucking good..” he mumbles, and throws his head back as he comes. 

“You better not swallow, Schatzi,” comes a voice from the doorway. Who are you to disobey? Mark pulls out carefully, tucking himself back into his shorts while Sebastian helps you up from the floor. He carries you bridal style into the living room, placing you down on the couch next to Fernando. 

“Show Nando, baby,” Sebastian all but coos and you carefully open your mouth. The underlying relationships? Questionmark? between your housemates makes your head spin, but judging by the way Fernando’s eyes darken, Sebastian knows something about the Spaniard you don’t. 

“Can I kiss you, nena?” he asks and all you can do is nod. Fernando cradles your cheek, pressing an almost chaste kiss against your lips before he runs his tongue over the seam of your lips. The moan he lets out as he tastes Mark on your tongue has you throbbing. When you break apart to catch some air, Sebastian leans closer and licks away the few drops of cum that spilled when Fernando kissed you. Am I dreaming? you can’t help but wonder. Out loud apparently.

“Very much awake, doll,” Jenson grins as he kneels in front of you, “Something tells me you’re absolutely soaking. Mind if I give a hand? I do so love making people come with my mouth,” he adds and you’re quick to raise your hips so he can pull down your panties, much to Jenson’s amusement. He pushes your oversized shirt up higher and parts your legs. Sebastian moves your face so he can steal a kiss and you moan into his mouth as Jenson drags the flat of his tongue over your oh so sensitive clit. Their hands are everywhere it feels like. You’re pretty sure Fernando has one up your shirt, teasing your nipple while he kisses your neck. Jenson’s are curled around the inside of your thighs as he holds you open for him while Sebastian has one hand on your cheek as he kisses you; the other mirrors Fernando’s. Needing something to hold on to, you bury a hand in Jenson’s hair. He sucks your clit into his mouth, moaning against your cunt as you tug. Breaking the kiss, you throw your head back with a moan of your own while you grind against Jenson’s tongue. 

“Need.. Fingers.. Please, Jenson, need your-.. Fuck, oh God..” Despite your incoherent state, Jenson understands what it is you’re asking of him as he carefully slides two of his long fingers inside of you. Sebastian and Fernando manage to strip you of your t-shirt, both of them taking a nipple into their mouth. 

“I’m so-.. So close.. I’m gonna cum, please can I cum?” you whimper. Fernando mutters a yes against your skin and something snaps; Your back arches as your orgasm hits you and for a moment you forget how to breathe. The loss of Jenson’s fingers makes you whine but your housemates more than make up for it when Fernando grabs his wrist in order to bring Jenson’s fingers to his mouth, moaning as he tastes you. 

“Just as I thought, you taste delicious nena,” the Spaniard comments with a grin. These men will be the death of me, you can’t help but think while Seb accepts the glass of water Mark hands him. The German driver helps you take a few sips as you slowly return into your body. Something tells you that this only scratches the surface of their underlying dynamics and you are dying to delve deeper.

“Told you it’d be mutually beneficial,” Jenson jokes, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“God, I hate that I’m saying this because your ego is fucking big enough as is-,” you start only for Jenson to interrupt with a that’s not the only thing that’s big, doll which makes you roll your eyes.

“I was gonna agree to your plan, idiot. You proved your point. Twice over. I- eh.. I can see the appeal,” you continue before downing the last of the water. The four men share a look that you can’t quite decipher and it makes you wonder: just what did you exactly sign up for? You pull your shirt back on, suddenly very aware of the fact you’re naked, needing something to act as a barrier between you and this crazy idea. 

“How about we discuss the details after breakfast? Don’t know about you, but I am starving,” Mark breaks the silence. You nod gratefully and let Sebastian pull you to your feet. A part of you is excited to see where this.. arrangement will lead you, but you’re also apprehensive that you might be about to bite off far more than you can chew. 

Welp. Here we go I guess. Updates are gonna be slow on this, so please temper your expectations. Ideas have been brain stormed, things are brewing in the ol' noggin, I just gotta write it 🥲

Massive shoutout to @curiousthyme and @feralnando for helping me brain rot about this and for holding my hand while I descent even further into chaos. This whole part was written while listening to Hozier's Too Sweet and Ethel Cain's Gibson Girl on repeat, so feel free to do with that information as you please

Please let me know what you think. Your comments, likes and tags mean the world to me 💜

taglist

@2pagenumb @dannyramirezwife @daydreaminlewis @emlynblack @forza55 @jaimeleannavanlloman @mehrmonga  @szobosz @raizelchrysanderoctavius @whoreforeveryon

[thehauntedetheral]

Yandere Vampire X Vampire Hunter Reader

Requests are open!

• In the supernatural world where vampire rules. The king vampire has given specific regions to his close vampires to rule and maintain for him. Yan Vampire is the ruler of your region. But for some time he has been getting a lot anonymous threats to kill him and some accidents has happened too. But him being stubborn avoids taking precautions and says "I can handle this."

• His sister is worried for his safety as next week is the global meeting where every regional chief is present with their people and reporting updates about their region to other chiefs and the king.

• His sister is worried that the anonymous threat would take opportunity of the crowd and do some harm to yan so she comes with a plan to you a Vampire hunter without her brother's knowledge.

• She tells you her plan which is you a FUCKING VAMPIRE HUNTER to protect him. A VAMPIRE HUNTER WHO KILLS VAMPIRE AS THEIR PROFESSION IS ASKED TO PROTECT ONE???!!!

• "Are you insane?" You asked in disbelief after hearing her plan. "You know the meaning of vampire hunter, right?" You asked thinking she might be misunderstanding the term.

"I know what a vampire hunter is and what they do. Someone is trying to kill my brother and by the clues we are sure that it is a vampire who is trying to kill him." She says with a calm tone her blood red eyes looking at you. Her vampiric beauty glowing.

"You want me your brother who is also a vampire to protect him from some other Vampire at that global meeting sort thing of you vampires?" You said trying to make sense of everything.

"Yes. I will give you any amount you want. And protecting the regional chief of the region you live will give you many advantages till you die". The female Vampire said giving you a tempting offer which you can't refuse.

"But there is one problem. I have a solution for it too. But I am afraid you won't like the solution I came up with." She said with a slight disappointment over her face.

"What is it?"

"Well in the meeting only the regional chiefs and their family are allowed to attend. We have to make you pretend as the family member to attend with us. If they found out you are a Vampire hunter even I and my brother won't be able to protect you from the king."

You a single vampire hunter present in a room with thousands of vampire and a single mistake you would be dead in less than a millisecond just thinking about this caused you goosebumps. But it was now or never. You wanted that money.

"Okay. What family member do I have to pretend to be?"

"Well.... His human fiancee." The vampire said with hesitation.

"WHAT?!!"

"Well you are a human and we are vampires no way we can be family biologically so it only leaves to one option his fiancee just a fake one. After the work is done you are free to do whatever you want. And by being his fiancee you can be near him all the time protecting without any suspicious of others." The Vampire tried to explain.

"Okay. But I will take more money to pretend to be that old as fossils vampire's fiancee" You said with a deep frown.

"Just say the amount and it's your." The Vampire female and you shaked hands closing the deal. While Yan Vampire doesn't have a single idea what type of chaos his sister is going to bring in his life through you.

Get ready for being stuck with the grumpy Vampire protecting him from others while pretending to be his fake human fiancee. I hope I myself don't kill him in hatred. Wish me luck! You thought to yourself.

I am thinking about making this into a series. Should I make it? What do you think? Please let me know through comments.

Requests are open!

For more yandere reading:

[lovelywritinglady]

Idea that been on my mind for like weeks. GN reader that is Muzan's S/O that isn't well known by demons not even some of the uppermoons. Reader comes to the Infinity castle during an uppermoon meeting and gets on to Muzan about leaving a mess (Dead person) at the house and how they always have to clean the blood up. They are tugging Muzan's ear which is just surprising to the uppermoons. Nakime knows Reader cause she brings them there. Kokushibo knows reader because he saw reader in the infinity castle before doing whatever. Reader is also a demon.

Feel free to ignore this.

Sure thing!! Thank you for requesting!

Yes Dear

Muzan Kibutsuji x GN!reader

In which the demons in the infinity castle are shocked by the authority you seem to have over their Lord Muzan.

Fluff, established relationship, mentions of violence, demons, out of character Muzan/other demons.

The moon was high as the upper moon demons gathered together because of their lords command. They all stood in the infinity castle as they awaited their lord who had important news to tell them. Douma in particular was getting restless, wishing he could partake in the eating of beautiful women instead.

“Where is our Lord?” Douma asked to no one in particular.

“Be patient, I am sure our Lord will arrive shortly.” Akaza replied with an annoyed tone.

“Hmmm, fine then.” Douma sighed.

Just then, the man of the hour himself arrived, almost in a flash. Douma, Akaza, and the other upper moon demons all stood still at Muzans aura. Chills ran down their spines and their once proud faces were now ones of fear. They all bowed simultaneously and kept their heads down to show their loyalty.

“Mmm good to know you all still know your place.” Muzan spoke looking down at them with slight disgust. The smell of blood thick in the air as Muzans latest victim lie dead on the floor.

“Yes my lord.” They all spoke heads still down

“Dammit Muzan! Not again!” An angry demon called out making all of the upper moons lift their heads in surprise.

“What is it now dear.” Muzan spoke calmly looking at his beloved.

“How many times have I told you that you cannot leave your dinner anywhere you want. You’re the lord of all demons at least act respectable. My goodness.” The new demon scolded Muzan as the tugged on his ear which surprised all of the other demons in the room.

“My…apologies, y/n. Please let go of my ear darling.” Muzan spoke softly hoping his subordinates wouldn’t hear.

“For what” Y/n said still holding onto his ear.

“For… leaving my dinner… laying around.” Muzan responded looking annoyed as his ear was throbbing in pain.

“Good. And this time there is no way in hell I’m going to clean up after you.” Y/n spat giving Muzan their best glare as they finally let go of his ear.

“Yes dear.” Muzan as he looked deep in their eyes. Muzan then held y/n’s face affectionately before turning back to his subordinates who gave him a look of confusion.

“What are you all looking at. If you’d like to keep your head then I suggest you bow your heads.” Muzan yelled glaring his bright red eyes at the upper moon demons.

“Yes my Lord Muzan.” They all said in unison.

“This powerful demon is Y/n, who also happens to be my mate. Treat them as you would treat me.” Muzan ordered looking at them in disgust.

They all bowed further showing that they understood their lord’s demand. Y/n then heals on to their mates arm holding it affectionat. They then looked at the sight before them feeling pride that their love is so powerful.

“Don’t you have import news to tell them, my love?” Y/n asked looking up at Muzan.

“Why yes, Dear.” Muzan replied looking into their e/c eyes. “I have gathered you all here today to tell you that a demon that has conquered the sun had finally come.” Muzan started as he continued to hold on to his love.

Thank you so much for reading and thanks to the person who requested this fic!!💜 Sorry this took so long!!! Thank you for your patience.

Click here to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my master list.

Please feel free to like, comment, follow, and request.

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n•

-L.W.L

[vampyr-ss]

baby | s. getou

wc: 1.2k

other: chat this was a random thought so it's unedited this is brainrot.

warnings: dark content (stepcest) + non con kinda sorta + mating press + daddy kink + 'angel' + infidelity + creampie + breeding kink + squirting + pussy slapping + slapping + subspace + smut under the cut babe

geto knew your pretty little cunt couldn't take the pounding he wanted to give you. he's watched you walk around the house in those tiny fucking shorts with no panties. he's watched you lean over to pick something up in just your thong and a big shirt--his shirt. he doesn't even remember lending you any of his shirts.

his marriage to your mother is on the rocks because she's cheating on him. he knows this, you know this, and you've always thought he was attractive. you didn't care that they got married when you were 19, you don't care that he's 20 years older than you. you want him. your mother doesn't deserve him.

geto isn't an idiot, he knows you've been trying to fuck him. he didn't 'let it happen', he plotted on it. he waited until your mom left for work. he waited until her car pulled out of the driveway before he found himself practically charging into your room. you were still laying down in bed on your phone, silently giggling at whatever was on the bright screen.

he hadn't cared before what you were laughing at, and he sure as hell doesn't care now. all he needed was to fuck your throat, fuck you, and watch his cum ooze out of every hole he could possibly fill. a very reasonable ask if you asked him.

"the fuck are you crying for?" geto asks you as he watches the tears spill from your eyes. his feet are steadily on the bed and your legs dangle over his shoulders. your ass hurts from the previous slaps he'd adorned it with, but nothing beats the pleasure that ripples through your body when he slaps you across your face. "da- suguru i'm sorry!"

he tuts at you and his thrusts only get stronger. he wraps his hand around your throat for more leverage, and at this point he's basically throwing his body weight into his thrusts. the way your pussy clenches around him has him thanking god for you, for this cunt, for this life. he hasn't had pussy like this in years.

"-too much! 's too much suguru i can't daddy please! i feel like-" you pause to catch your breath since his hand is tight around your neck. another sob racks your body when geto slaps you again, anger building in his body. "feel like what? you're the one who kept bending over in front of me. you kept wearing those slutty ass panties so i could see a preview of this cunt." you shake your head in an attempt to deny everything he's saying but the both of you know it's true.

your pussy clenches at the thought of him watching you bend over and thinking about it later. did he think about it while fucking your mom? did he wish it was you instead? "i'm sorry! i'm sorry daddy!" you're practically screaming your pleas and geto takes the time to shift his free hand to rub at your clit. he wishes he could fuck your ass and watch your pussy clench around nothing because you don't even deserve his dick.

"my slutty stepdaughter, what am i gonna do with you angel?" you shake your head to say that you're not a slut but before you can say anything a loud moan rips from your throat. "that's it sweet angel." he purrs. "take it. this is what you wanted right? for your stepdaddy to fuck this tight cunt?" he frees your throat to wait for your response.

he leans over so he's closer to you, pressing wet kisses along your neck. "admit it. my sweet angel's just a fucking slut." you clearly haven't found your voice again because you just nod. geto tastes the tears as they run from your cheeks to your neck. "admit it or you won't cum. i'll make sure you get to the edge and then i'll pull out. i know how desperate this pussy is. sloppy fuckin' cunt." his hand comes down on your pussy for extra measure, a wet squelch following the slap to your cunt.

"yes! i'm just your slut daddy, please let me cum. i need it so bad!" your hands find purchase on his back and your pretty acrylics dig deep into his back. geto can feel the skin break a little and the pain somehow fuels him into pounding your pussy further. he can feel his orgasm get closer and closer with each thrust and with your pretty moans and the tightest cunt he's ever felt aren't helping it either.

geto laughs at your begging and adjusts so he's face to face with you. he glances over your face, taking in how swollen your lips and eyes are. your face is somewhat red from him slapping your cheeks and somehow he's harder than before. "good girl," he pauses to grin widely, "maybe i'll fill this pussy up and give you a baby. you can't leave me then, huh? can't leave your daddy for one of these stupid fucking college boys."

you shake your head in protest, your hands pushing at the bottom of his stomach to get him out of you. "no! no, please! i can't- how- no!" geto understands your questions even if you don't get them out properly. "i don't care, you can just tell your mom one of those frat boys knocked you up. i'll take care of you, angel. i'll divorce your mom to marry this perfect pussy." you cry out as he finishes his sentence, shifting your hips away from his as the knot tightens as far as it can go.

"stop running, angel. take daddy's dick, yeah? go ahead. cum for me." you shake your head again, because you know when you cum he'll cum with you. he'll cum inside of you and make you a mother. that isn't something you can truly explain. geto sighs heavily from above you, gripping your cheeks in his hand. "cum so i can make you a mommy, baby. cum so i can see my cum ooze out of your perfect pussy."

despite wanting to fight it your body convulsed under his. you lean up to kiss geto, crying out against his lips to no avail. your stomach shifts and a new sense of euphoria floods your senses. your pussy twitches as you cum, fluids spurting out against geto's pelvis and onto the sheets under the two of you. geto grunts against your lips, chanting your name like an unanswered prayer. he barely gets another thrust in before he's coming deep inside of you.

he continues short sharp thrusts into you, forcing more cum out of you and your orgasm to prolong. your legs are shaking on his shoulders, but he doesn't care. he's praying that this takes so he can finally leave your bitch of a mother. "atta girl, wasn't so bad was it? you gonna have my baby, angel?"

defeated, you nod as your eyes flutter open. geto smiles down at you, a sweet sincere smile that almost makes you forget who he is. you almost forget that this is wrong and that you could be pregnant with your step-dad's baby. "yes, daddy. i can't wait." you purr softly, smiling dreamily up at him before he kisses you softly.

[hamiltonaf]

Veiled Emotions | Lando Norris

Part 1 | (Part 2)

Pairings: Lando Norris x BFF!Female Reader

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: Sexual tension | Slow Burn

A/N: Hello my lovelies. Apologies for the delay, I had a busy week and it was my birthday, so consider this a gift from me to you guys. I got a bit carried away, so I hope you loves enjoy .xx

(Y/F/N) - Your Friend’s Name

It was the next morning, and thankfully (Y/F/N) let me sleep in, and didn’t bother me to wake up early. I woke up in a pretty good mood until I turned to the side table and looked at my lockscreen to see I was flooded with message notifications from Lando, as well as a number of DMs reacting to my story last night.

 

I opened Lando’s messages first - it was just good morning texts and a spam of him saying my name to wake me up. However his last message said ‘(Y/N/N) I’m coming home later today. Are you busy today ? Call me when you see this ❤️’. Hmm I wonder what it’s about…

 

Before replying back I went through a few of my Instagram DMs. Some asking if it’s Lando, others asking for a better soft launch, though one DM caught my eye from João, the last person I would ever expect a DM from.

 

João

Hey beautiful… I know this seems crazy but would love to get to know you better. How about tonight after my match ?

 

Y/N

Hii ! We just started following each other… eager to see me already ? lol just playing. Sure ☺️

 

João

Was not expecting that to work 😂 but I’m glad it did. Are you free to come to my match at 6 ? Its at Wembley 👀

 

I yelled for (Y/F/N) and luckily she was in the kitchen which isn’t far from my room, “Girl something major just happened!” I said as I sat up against the headboard. “Omg is it Lando ?” She asked as she jumped in the bed beside me. “Yes and no, well not right now. So you wouldn’t believe this but João just DMed me asking if-“

 

“Babe slow it down and reverse. Did you just say João DMed you ? AND YOU ARE THROWING THAT OUT SO CASUALLY ?” She screamed in shock. “Erm okay sorry I guess for not making it a big deal ? Anywho, he wants to go out to tonight after-“ “YES !” She cut me off. “I didn’t finish my sentence” I huffed. “I don’t care, you’re going to whatever he invited you for” she smiled. “Well he first said to meet after his match, and now he’s inviting me to his match as well” I held my head in my hands. “I wish I had your kind of problems. A footballer and a f1 driver fighting for you ? The potential chance you have of being a football or f1 wag is crazy !” she squealed as she clapped her hands.

 

“I take it that I say yes to both ?” I raised a brow. “Absolutely !” She said in an obvious tone.“But I don’t know how I feel about going. I mean this is all literally happening bc his ex is dating my Lando” I sighed. “My ?” She teased with a smirk. “Oh my god what am I even saying” I said in shock as I shook my head. “This boy is making me lose my mind” I groaned in frustration.

 

“Okay jokes aside..I understand where you’re coming from. We don’t know what his intentions are and I get that you may feel uncomfortable. Why don’t you ask him if a friend can come with for the match so you have company” she suggested. “I can’t tell if you’re being helpful or if this is an excuse to come with me to a football match” I furrowed my brows. “Well mainly the first one but I won’t deny the second one” she pursed her lips. “I see how it is, oh well either way I’m not planning to go to this match alone. I’m just going to ask him if you can come with” I said as I opened the DM once again.

 

Y/N

I’ve never been, so it sounds like fun, do you mind if I bring a friend with ? 😊

 

João

Don’t mind at all. Whatever you say 😉 Will send you a pass and details in a few for the 2 of you. Look forward to seeing you.

 

Y/N

Perfect ! Thank you so much. See you later 🥰

 

 

“Okay done !” I smiled as I closed the app. “Great, now what about Lando ?” She asked curiously. “Oh yeah..about him-“ I started to laugh nervously. “Oh no. What now ?” She crossed her arms over. “So uhm, he’s coming back home today and well, he asked me to call him when I saw his message” I shrugged casually. “Did you call him ?” She raised a brow. “No ?” I furrowed my brows. “Well what the heck are you waiting for ! Call him right now because I wanna hear this” she yelled. “Okay fine jeez” I scrolled for his name and ringed him.

 

I cleared my throat whilst it was ringing, “Hey you’re finally up” he greeted. “Yeah I just saw your message. What’s up ?” my gaze lingered to (Y/F/N). “Well I’m flying back in a few hours..thought we should meet up, that’s if you’re free” he said hopeful. “Why does he sound shy ?” (Y/F/N) whispered. “Shh- Uhm yeah unfortunately I’m busy today Lan, maybe tomorrow ?” I pressed my lips together. “Oh I see..what are your plans ?” He asked. “Well João wanted me at his match today, and we’re going out after, so I have no idea what time I’ll be back.”

 

“Hmm wow…I take it that you’re going for the Euros then ?” He asked. “Yepp that’s right” I replied. “Great, then I’ll see you later. Bye !” His tone changed. “Byeee” I said lastly as I ended the call. “Did you hear correctly ?” (Y/F/N) asked confused. “What ?” I asked even more baffled than she is. “He said he’ll see you later” she said. “Ohh, well maybe he means before we leave for the match” I suggested. “Oh yeah you got a point” she dropped the subject as our focus was on having brunch.

 

After brunch and trying to kill some time, I had a shower and started to hunt for an outfit. Thank god for (Y/F/N) as she helped me narrow down my options. The look we’re going for is I’m an up-and-coming wag, but I’m mainly just a friend.

 

As we were about to leave, I failed to mention that João sent a driver to escort us to the stadium. Nice touch. (Y/F/N) squealed and pinched me when she saw the car. “Girlll you can have Lando, I’ll take him” I stifled a laugh and tried to hush her before the driver heard us.

 

Upon our arrival at the stadium, we were then escorted by a team member named, Anna. She was really sweet, as she took her time to give us a tour. I was not expecting her to actually take us to the dressing rooms where I was tapped on the shoulder by João. “Hello” he said softly. “Hi omg we finally meet” I smiled as we then exchanged a hug. “About time” he nervously chuckled. “Yeah thank you again for inviting us” (Y/F/N) butted in as she started taking to him.

 

“Well thank you for accepting my invite. I hope you guys enjoy the match, and you’ll be cheering me on” he winked. “Of course !” (Y/F/N) smiled at him. “Sorry to leave so suddenly, I have a team meeting. See you later yeah ?” He said as he started walking backwards. “Yepp” “Goodluck for today’s match” (Y/F/N) added. He waved us off before he finally left. I gave her a side eye before Anna guided us to our seats and bid goodbye.

 

The stadium was full to capacity at this point, however, the match was only about to start in 15 minutes. I thought the view from the box would be a great time to post, but yet again, the fans beat me to it.

 

f1gossipgirl just added to their story

“I swear this girl doesn’t rest” I giggled as I liked the stories. “You look insane, bestie” (Y/F/N) said as she looked over my shoulder. As I continued to go through the stories, my jaw dropped at the caption.

 

f1gossipgirl just added to their story

“Ain’t no frikken way” I said in shock. “Bitch what the hell. Where is he ?” (Y/F/N) started to frantically look around us. As if on queue, the camera pans to Lando, and his face appears on the big screen. “Oh. My. God” we said simultaneously. “Call him right now” I huffed. “Is that a good idea though ?” Before she could reply, she grabbed my phone and dialled his number. “Are you insane ?” I said as she then shoved my phone to my ear. “Hey love” he answered.

 

“Hey you…so like when did you plan on telling me you’re here as well ?” I know him so well that I could tell he’s smiling on the other side, he’s enjoying this a little too much. “Well, I did tell you that I’ll see you later” he half laughed. “Are you stalking me ?” I asked playfully. “No” he scoffed. “Defensive… so you are stalking me” I giggled. “No no I mean I was actually invited, in fact I was going to bring you with me but someone beat me to it” he huffed. “Hmm okay keep telling yourself that” I smiled.

 

“Where are you anyway ? Why don’t you come here and give me company ?” He suggested. “I’m with (Y/F/N), I can’t leave her alone” she then shoved my shoulder. “I’m not a child, you can leave me alone !” she said lowly. “That’s fine, she can take the seat and you can sit on my lap.” Is he flirting with me ? I guess so considering how (Y/F/N) started giggling. “Haha very funny. I don’t think your girlfriend would like that”

 

“Girlfriend ? Where did you hear this ?” He asked. “Okay just forget about it, I’ll see you later. Byeeee” I said as I ended the call.

 

The match ended at 93 minutes with the score being 2-0 - Portugal had won, which is great but disappointing to see England lose.

 

(Y/F/N) and I stayed in place as everyone was leaving. “Can I escort you ladies to a private room so you can get comfortable until João is back ?” Anna suggested. “Yeah sure” (Y/F/N) replied. I followed behind their lead whilst I scrolled through my phone. “Avoiding me, love.” I looked up and I was met by Lando. “Oh hey you” I smiled. “Where are you off to ?” He eagerly asked. “Well, I’m following (Y/F/N) and Anna, she’s escorting us to a private room until João is done, but I’ll see you around” I quickly gave him a smile as I tried to walk past him. He grabbed my hand and pulled me back.

 

“Wait. I feel like I don’t see you anymore these days” he pouted. “I could say the same for you. You’re in a relationship and now well so am I” I lied as I attempted again to walk past him. He yet again successfully pulls me back. “Can we just talk…alone and clear some things… please” he asked sincerely. I glanced over to (Y/F/N) and she nodded towards Lando, hinting I should go with him. “Okay fine.” I walked over to hug (Y/F/N), “Don’t worry I’ll cover for you” she whispered. “Thanks, I owe you” I said back softly. “Anna, thank you for helping this evening. If you’ll excuse me, I unfortunately have to go, but (Y/F/N) is here to accompany João” I smiled at her. She nodded with a smile.

 

I walked back over to Lando, “After you” he smirked as he stood aside for me to walk ahead. Once we were at the parking, he walked ahead of me to his McLaren as he opened the passenger door for me. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today ?” He asked as he leaned against the door. “No, but thank you” I gave him a small smile as he sat in the driver's seat.

 

“So I think let’s clear the air on the topic that seems to bother you” he said as he tried to hide his smile. “I’m sorry but it doesn’t bother me” I scoffed. “By saying it doesn’t bother you, means it bothers you” he smirked. “I think what bothers you is that I was invited to this match by João and I was supposed to be on a date with him after, so you followed me here to ruin my plans” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Yet here you are, in my car. With me” he continued to smirk. “I only came here to ‘clear the air’ like you asked” I raised my voice.

 

“I love to see you get angry” he said as he leaned more into his seat to face me. The sexual tension in the car really got me flustered. “Lando, this is not funny ! Get to the point already, or I’m leaving” I huffed. “Okay okay sorry… so…are you actually dating him ?” he asked. “Are you serious right now ? You called me for this ? Are you trying to get information again for your girlfriend ?”

 

“Again with the girlfriend story” he laughed. “What is so damn funny ? Share the joke so I too can laugh” I rolled my eyes. “She’s not my girlfriend” he held in his laugh. “Wait what” I could feel the heat rush to my cheeks. “But I swear everyone and their mothers said that you’re dating her ? I felt like such an idiot being your so-called best friend because everyone knew this except for me” I argued. “Well sorry to break it you like this but you fell for the rumours like everyone else”

 

“But she went on this trip with you guys and-“ he cut me off. “Yeah because she’s friends with Pietra and besides that, I asked you to come with but you said no” he pouted. “Because like I told you, I didn’t want to be a third wheel” I sighed. “You wouldn’t have been a third wheel because you have me. If anything, she was going to feel like a third wheel because I’m closer to you… I was really hoping you were coming because I was so lonely, that’s why I video called you last night, but then you thought something else and cut the call on me” he called me out.

 

“I mean can you blame me with everything I’ve been hearing ?” I scoffed. “Now that that’s out of the way. Are you dating him ?” He asked as he leaned on the console between us. “What’s it to you ?” I grinned. “Oh come on, I answered your question, the least you can do is answer mine” he pouted again with the puppy dog eyes. “I guess you can say it’s a yes and no answer” I said playfully. He tilted his head to the side, “It’s either a yes or no” he said as he leaned closer towards me.

 

It started to feel really hot with all this sexual tension. I could feel the moisture and tiny beads of sweat start to form along my collarbones and my cleavage. It’s as if (Y/F/N) confident spirit took over me when I answered his question. “Well, yes I’m dating him if it means it bothers you and no, I’m not dating him..unless, you’re interested” I smirked as I tilted my head. He sniggered as he broke eye contact for a second before meeting my eyes again. He grabbed my cap and put it on himself backwards. “What are you doing ?” I furrowed my brows. “Something I should’ve done a very long time ago” he said as he entangled his fingers into my hair and closed the gap between us.

 

Our lips met in a rush of warmth, a collision of uncertainty and desire. The kiss was both sweet and fierce, a moment that felt like it could unravel everything we’d been avoiding. My hands wrapped around his neck and trailed into his hair, lightly pulling on it. When we finally pulled away, breathless, I found myself searching his eyes.

 

He bit his lip as he pressed his forehead against mine. “Wow” I said, my voice shaky. He chuckled softly, a smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, wow…always wanted to do that.”

 

I wasn’t done messing with him. “Then why didn’t you ? Oh right, you were so busy hitting on your ‘girlfriend’ that-“ he cut me off by capturing my lips in another kiss. He broke away to look at me, “You know you drive me insane sometimes, but it shows how much I love you when I can’t stop thinking about you or when I randomly smile at something you said” he blushed. “You already love me ?” I teased him. “Yes. Yes I do” he said as he gave me a quick peck. “Okay” I smiled. “Don’t you love me too ?” He pouted. “I’m still thinking about it” I pursed my lips.

 

“What is there to think about ?” He asked in shock. “I think I’m gonna need a little bit more of your lips on mine to decide-“ I tried to hide my laugh as he then cupped my face with his hands. “Is. This. Good. Enough. For. You” he pecked my lips after each word. I giggled at him being silly, “Okay okay, I love you too.” “Damn right you do” murmured as his hand moved to my neck and placed his lips on mine once again.

[astrobolical]

To make you forget, if only for a while

How the kings (Satan, Mammon, Leviathan, Beelzebub) alleviate your fears and worries, at least for a little while— as best they can, and in their own unique ways.

I love the utter filth that comes from this game, but sometimes a little fluff is welcome, too. If this does okay, I may see about doing some of the other devils as well.

Also yes, I do fully believe that there’s no way Leviathan doesn’t have a larger source of water in his home— his bathtub just being his favourite— it’s not as though he’s going out to find any.

Oh, and I went with “Bell” as Beelzebub’s nickname, as it’s what Mammon calls him in Chapter 3.

Content Warnings: Mildly Suggestive (Mostly Beelzebub), devil behaviours, brief mentions of alcohol, brief & mild mentions of depression, (lightly described) anxiety

Reader: Gender Neutral

Your voice had fallen silent, trailing behind the trio in front of you— and Satan cursed himself as he came to realize far too slowly that you’d withdrawn. His steps slowed, turning his head to see just what had garnered your attention… but was left with a foul taste in his mouth as he discerned what exactly it was. Your eyes were gazing down a street visible from where you were, seeing the frantic devils working tirelessly to restore or save their homes and businesses. Fires were being quelled, devils saved from rubble— trying their best to survive. Satan knew, however, that you weren’t simply watching, he could see how your eyes watered, bordering on tears, as you walked helplessly along.

In your racing mind Satan knew that you were blaming yourself entirely, allowing yourself to wallow and drown in the guilt that had begun to eat away. The look in your solemn eyes told him everything— it was a darkness he was all too familiar with, one that gripped him often, one that was difficult to escape from, especially alone. He wanted to stop, to tell you that none of this was your burden to bear, that not a single citizen of Gehenna would ever blame you. You hadn’t asked for any of this, hadn’t wished for an angel and Satan himself to whisk you away into chaos.

Yet all the same he knew those doubts and worries would not be easily assuaged, that your mind would inevitably take his words and discard them as if they were worth nothing. No matter how sincere they may be.

No, Satan knew that words were simply not enough, not for this— not for the gravity of the weight you felt on your shoulders as you looked out into the destruction and havoc. Instead, he decided, quite quickly, on another course of action that always helped him when he needed it the most.

His pace halted entirely, not having to wait long before you bumped carelessly into his back, not realizing he’d come to a full stop in your stupor.

“Satan?” You questioned, breaking free from whatever thoughts had held you. “Did something happen?” You glanced towards Sitri, as if trying to see if he’d heard someone approaching, or trouble nearby, but he shook his head.

“No,” He placed his hand atop your head, smoothing your hair out gently. “Nothing’s changed… I just think we need a break.”

You pouted, studying his eyes and expression. “A break? I’m fine…” You lied through your teeth— he’d already learned your little human quirks, at least partially.

Your protests, however, went unlistened to, and you were given no more time to voice your concerns. Satan pulled you close, holding you around your waist as he had so many times before and started down an unfamiliar alleyway. Not once did he look back to ensure your companions were following, knowing that they, too, completely understood the situation— you however, felt lost.

He led you, primarily, through the alleys and side streets you hadn’t yet seen, keeping away from the carnage you’d been surrounded by. His pace was quick, determined, keeping you against him as he trekked. You couldn’t quite grasp the sudden change of plans and direction, but your trust in Satan allowed you to relax and follow him as best you could (though you were sure without his arm around you, you’d have stumbled multiple times already). You knew that Satan would never harm you, not intentionally.

And, as expected, your intuition was correct and your trust well placed. There was not a single sign of danger where you now found yourself. In fact, it appeared more like a safe haven, mostly left untouched by the chaos that the angels had wreaked upon Gehenna.

It reminded you of the bar that you’d stopped in to rest before, though even more lively. It was larger, decorated with more lavish designs and furniture. Within were dozens of devils, relaxing and laughing with one another— and each and every one rejoiced when their king came through the door. Shouts and hollers, an energetic flurry of motion as they led your ragtag group further into the depths of the building. Not once did Satan release his hold on you.

It warmed your heart to see how joyous his people were just to see him. Though, it alarmed you quite readily when their joy, energy, and questions were also turned towards you. They offered everyone drinks, began to loudly tell you all manner of stories from their lives here in Hell. It as a flurry of motion, of attention and an infectiously rambunctious attitude— a wonderful and welcome feeling, compared to the ghastly reminders just outside.

Satan and Sitri — and even Ppyong— joined in on the revelry, encouraging the energies around them and rallying the morale. Unlike the last visit to a bar that you’d had, this time it was simply for fun and leisure. Satan kept you steady on his lap throughout the whole affair, hand idly massaging your sides or your thigh. You could feel his gaze on you every now and then, though each time you glanced back you were met with a shockingly gentle smile, and encouragement to pay more attention to his people.

He kept any grabby hands at bay, and a few were sent flying with a well-placed kick upon their weaker frames— though this did little to quell them, if anything it had only added to their adoration. Though you noted that with each attempt to get just a little too close to you, his hold would grow a little tighter, he’d pull you more fully into his lap and against him with a snarl.

You hadn’t laughed as much as you did then in what felt like your entire life— hadn’t met so many new faces, or heard such crazy tales, each one more absurd than the last. You leaned back into Satan, nestling yourself close to his warmth and comfort. When he turned to glance your way you stole a kiss from his parted lips— choosing to ignore the whoops and calls of the others in the room— and caught him off guard.

His eyes were wide as you leaned towards his ear. “Thank you,” You murmured, so quiet you were sure that only he (and perhaps Sitri) could hear. “For bringing me here, Satan.” You knew how much he cared for the denizens of Gehenna, how much he treasured and valued each and every one of them. And you’d realized that’s exactly why he’d brought you to such a place, at such a dire time.

In your moment of heartbreak and darkness, he’d brought you to them. To a place you were sure he’d probably often escaped to himself when his mind spiraled and he couldn’t quell it alone. He was showing you that these devils could be your safe space as well, your light out of the darkness that plagued your heart.

His people were his respite, and now they were yours as well.

This king of Hell had done so much for you, in such a short time… saved you more times than you cared to count— so you allowed yourself to enjoy his, and his people’s, company well into the night. Until the drinks finally slowed, and he’d ushered you to a place to rest on the upper floor. It was then that he returned the kiss you’d stolen earlier, with fervour, as if imploring you to realize that you were never alone in this.

He was alarmed— his gut telling him something was amiss, even if he wasn’t quite sure what it may be. Mammon knew only that it had to do with that faraway look within your eyes, almost as if you were looking through the brilliant gold around you rather than at it— it was not admiration, not his coveted greed, it was nothing. Mammon couldn’t understand why you weren’t pleased with your surroundings, or what all you may be thinking… just that he didn’t like it.

He wanted you to look around and desire it, to want the world despite knowing that it was already yours, as he was. He loved to see your eyes alight with a fiery passion, your heart just as full… but somehow you had fallen far, right under his nose. A human folly, he was certain, and not one he had ever encountered. Yet this? This he did not want, he did not covet this new experience, this new emotion. He wanted to be rid of it.

Mammon lifted you with ease, and without warning, breaking your senseless focus immediately, drawing you towards him effortlessly. You clung to him in surprise, steadying yourself though you knew that to Mammon you weighed nothing— he’d proven that already. You wound your arms around his neck, legs finding purchase on his hips, exclaiming his name in your surprise. His strength always amazed you— then again, he was simply amazing overall.

His silence continued as he pressed a warm kiss against your forehead, holding you close with one arm, while pulling your head closer with the other before it settled on your cheek. Your face flushed pink, dumbfounded at the gentle touches he’d graced you with.

His deep voice rumbled as he spoke, and pressed against him as you were you couldn’t help but shiver at the feeling of the vibrations. “What is bothering you, MC?” He questioned, eyes that looked like molten gold peering into yours with concern.

You stared back, silent, unsure how to answer— or if you even should. You worried your lower lip with your teeth as you pondered, not missing the way his eyes flicked downwards at the motion, how he held you a little more tightly. “Nothing,” you finally relented, though accompanied by a forced smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes. “I’m alright.”

Mammon did not know doubt, or lies— you knew that your words alone would calm him, come as a reassurance that there was nothing to worry over. And you told yourself that you would do better to keep your worries hidden. A white lie, you decided, was the better way to go.

Even if the weight of all the events thus far was pressing down around you, exerting more pressure with each new battle you found yourself surrounded by.

Yet, despite your reassurance, Mammon’s brows furrowed, and he shook his head. “…While I do not know—or even understand— doubt, MC, I know that there is something wrong. I just know.”

He looked pained as his eyes bore into yours, unyielding as he studied your expressions. His grip became a little tighter as he sighed. “Can you not trust me?”

The question made your breath hitch, and you shook your head rapidly. “I trust you!” You reassured, your heart wrenching at his assumption. Of course you trusted Mammon— with everything in you, you did. You just didn’t want to burden him with your worries, your fears, and your guilt. You’d buried it so deeply within you throughout your journey that you’d thought that maybe you’d somehow escaped it… but it had consumed you the moment you’d finally attempted to rest, comforted by the massive devil’s presence. “I do. It’s just… it’s nothing, really. I’m just worrying over everything that’s happening here in Hell— if Satan hadn't saved me…”

His eyes widened, and his forehead bunted against your own. “Never think that way, MC. Nothing here is your fault— and there is no devil in Hell that thinks that it is.”

“Everyone is ecstatic that you’re here— even more than when they see me!” He continued, placing slow, soft kisses on your face between each breath.

You knew he was right, deep down. That if it hadn’t been you, another descendent of Solomon could have just as easily ignited it all. It wasn’t your burden to bear, just as much as it wasn’t Mammon’s. Whatever happened to God — the event that had earned the angel’s ire— was still a mystery.

You sighed, your eyes glossy as you looked up at him once more. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

“No need for apologies.” He straightened again, adjusting his grip on your bottom. “Just tell me when these thoughts plague you, and I will reassure you of every worry— I am yours, after all. You have me at your side to deal with whatever you feel you can’t. You are the only being to ever have this, the only one I’ll ever give it to.”

He grinned, sharp canines glinting in the light that shone into the room from the elegant (yet gaudy) golden windows, and you couldn’t help but smile— genuinely, this time. “Thanks, Mammon. I’ll keep that in mind.” It was strange, you thought, that he could so easily clear your mind with his promises alone… but when you looked at him, it also wasn’t hard to see why. He was powerful, confident— and he so proudly declared himself yours it was difficult to not believe him, to rely on him. “Aren’t you getting tired of holding me up, though?”

Your attempt to change the subject earned you a hearty laugh, that shook you in his arms. “Never!” As if taking your words as a challenge he tossed you upwards before catching you just as effortlessly, before securing you once again against him. “And if you don’t believe me, I’ll parade you around Tartaros to prove it.”

“Please, don’t!” You laughed, though you could see that he was absolutely considering his own words. “Mammon!”

“It would do you well to go out— and you can still rest as long as you’re in my arms.” You hit his chest, grumbling about how impossible he was— but there was little you could do to stop him from walking out the door, with you still held close. Though, despite your protests, you really didn’t mind— Mammon was right, seeing the devils of Tartaros going about their daily lives, seeing their smiling faces as they saw their king, and you… it really would do you good.

And, though you didn’t give him the pleasure of telling him, being held by Mammon was the safest place you felt you could be. Untouchable, secure, and comforted by his warmth.

Even if it was still a bit embarrassing.

Your mind was elsewhere, lost deep within unwanted thoughts that forced their way through despite any efforts to hinder them. Leviathan, in a way, couldn’t fault you for it— you were only human, and your entire world had been upturned and threatened. But Leviathan himself was at your side, seated just an arms length away— could you not even consider him a worthy distraction? Surely his presence alone should earn your gaze, at least? Yet your eyes were staring at the floor, your brows furrowed.

It irked him, stirring feelings in his heart that made his eyes narrow and fists clench— especially when he wondered just what it was you would finally use to alleviate whatever thoughts you were unable to escape. Whoever, or whatever, it may have been, even if imaginary, made envy seep through him.

Had he not proven he would go to great lengths for you already, without question? He’d even gone outside of the sanctity of his home for you, protected you from angels at the cost of his own wellbeing.

He sucked in a breath, steadying himself from whatever spiral he himself had nearly fallen into— now was not the time, not when he could simply take your attention for himself and eliminate the threats from the equation altogether. Motioning with lithe fingers, ropes quickly fell from the inky darkness of the ceiling above, entangling you despite your surprised protest. At least you’d called his name in your alarm.

The ropes dragged you closer to him�� surprisingly gentle— and you wondered what his plan was, recalling just how pleasurable it could be to be bound before this devil king. Yet only your jaw was slowly traced by a singular long finger, no further touches gracing your skin. Instead his pale eyes met yours, contemplative. He did not seem exceptionally angry or upset, in fact he appeared oddly calm for having called on his favoured ability.

And then he stood, sighing, leaving you where you were. “Come, then.” He spoke, a chill running through your spine— from suspense or anticipation, you weren’t sure. Yet despite ordering you to follow, he hadn’t intended to give you a choice to begin with, the strong ropes moving you for him, just behind (but so, so careful not to damage your frail, human skin).

He spoke nothing of where he was taking you, barely acknowledging that you were with him at all. At times his intense gaze met yours, as if checking on your wellbeing — though you surmised it was to ensure your attention was on him, as he wanted.

Any complaints you had, though, died on your tongue the moment he opened large double doors with a wave of his hand, and you were greeted with a marvelous sight that you couldn’t quite comprehend.

Within it was not quite the same castle-like structures you’d come to know, it was somehow more cavernous while still retaining its elegance. In the center was a pool, of sorts, though if you were to describe it properly it was more akin to a man-made (devil-made?) lake within the confines of Leviathan’s estate. The water’s surface was reflecting all across the walls and every item it could reach, creating a beautiful, moving pattern that was hard to tear your eyes away from.

You wondered if you should really feel as surprised as you do, that he had such a place tucked away, being as fond of water as Leviathan was.

“Very few have been here, Child of Solomon. I don’t allow it.” He spoke bluntly, those agile fingers motioning for your freedom (and oh, you knew what else those hands could do). “But,” He continued, turning to face you. “It appears you need something to distract you. Come.”

His hand extended towards you, waiting impatiently for you to take it, and despite your surprise and tentativeness you did just that. He led you towards the waters, still fully clothed and unperturbed. “Wait— shouldn’t I get a bathing suit, or something?”

He stopped, a quizzical look upon his beautiful features. “If you must worry about your clothes, just remove them.” As if assuming you would do just that he released your hand as quickly as he’d taken it, stepping into the water without waiting any longer for you to decide.

It wasn’t hard to see he belonged there, his pale skin practically glowing in an ethereal light. Soon enough he vanished into the depths, only to resurface a ways away, floating lazily despite the weight of his clothing.

Hastily you joined him, donning only your undergarments (not quite as confident within such deep waters while being weighed down). Yet when his hands were on you you knew that even if you even began to sink towards the bottom, he’d keep you afloat with ease. “You’re only the second outside of myself I’ve allowed in here.”

“…Why?” You murmured, enjoying the feel of the small, cool waves on your skin.

“Because it’s mine.” A simple answer, blunt as always. “But … so are you. So I don’t mind you being here, as long as your attention is on me, MC.”

Your heart felt warm as you realized how much you meant to him— that he would break his own comforts for your own, in a way. Even if it was borne from wanting your attention only on him and nothing else. “Sorry, Leviathan,” You murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek, which met with a strong hand pulling you closer to him. “For being so distracted before. Thank you for showing me this.”

He hummed in response, more taken with your body in his arms than with your gratitude— though you could very easily see he enjoyed it.

He’d succeeded in claiming your attention, keeping it upon himself with ease now that you were reminded that not everything in your situation was a bad thing. That you had devils like Leviathan at your side, and that they would do anything to assist you. Leviathan, who so rarely let others in but who opened himself to you without thought or hesitance.

Even if Leviathan’s needy hands barely gave you a moment’s rest, itching for your touch at every turn. You’d give him everything he wanted— how could you deny him, after all?

The room felt as though it was nearly split down the center as Beelzebub glanced around— on one side was the chatter and planning, a tense atmosphere of grumbling devils attempting to decide what to do… on the other, was you. Around you was quiet, abnormally so— the devils had let you be, he supposed it was to give you time to breathe and catch up with everything that had transpired.

Yet to Beelzebub, you simply looked pitiful, too sad for his liking. Your eyes were staring blankly out the window, sitting idly and unmoving on the sill. Yet you weren’t really looking at anything, your eyes barely moving even when there was an outburst on the other side of the room, or a bird flew by your window.

Clearly, despite what the others may think, you didn’t need time to yourself to breathe. In fact, it seemed as though leaving you to your own devices was only making things worse in that little human mind of yours. And, being who he is, Beelzebub was more than willing to bend the rules and expectations just to make you smile again.

He could sense Bael’s cautious yet curious gaze on his back— unwilling to believe that his king would simply sit idly. And he wasn’t wrong, really. Yet Beelzebub didn’t do anything immediately, instead standing and making his way over towards you rather languidly, lazily as though he just wanted to banter with you—despite being told to leave you be.

You didn’t react to his approach, or even seem to hear his intentionally loud footsteps, utterly lost in whatever thoughts were plaguing you. If this were another time, or he were any other devil, it may have been concerning how unaware you were of your surroundings in an unfamiliar environment— even if it was safe.

However, he was not another devil, and was still Beelzebub. He looked at this, instead, like an opportunity he simply couldn’t let go of and let pass by. In one swift motion you were hoisted upwards, a garbled noise of surprise escaping you as you were thrown over a strong shoulder. His hand kept you steady, lying comfortably on your lower back (if a little lower than necessary). Instinctively you reached out to grip anything you could to ground yourself, hands clinging to whatever you could reach on him. You knew that no matter how irresponsible Beelzebub may be, he would never drop you, but it was still difficult to settle when you’re quite literally thrown like a sack of potatoes.

“Let’s go out and play, MC.” His voice was a purr, adjusting you quickly before the others could react and taking off out the door with a surprising burst of speed— you hadn’t even known he could move that quickly!

There was chaos behind you near immediately, and you could see the others— particularly Bael— preparing to stop their quick-footed king from escaping, especially with you in tow. However, as much as the efforts were doubled by your presence, they were also incredibly hindered, not wanting to harm you in any way while attempting to stop the ever-troublesome man.

“Bell!” You protested, though he could hear your insincerity within your voice, a bubble of laughter escaping you at the audacity of the unanticipated situation you’d found yourself in. “Where are we even going?!”

The gloom that had surrounded you already began to crumble, and he laughed as he replied. “Somewhere fun!” He didn’t elaborate, however, as he dealt with the devils in his way, deftly outmaneuvering them.

Looking back once more, you couldn’t help but pity Bael, seeing now what it was he dealt with, but at the same time you were thankful for Beelzebub and his free spirited nature. You’d forgotten that, though the situation was incredibly serious, you were still allowed to have fun.

Almost as quickly as it had begun, the chaos came to a close, Beelzebub successful in his escape, and you now safely hugged within his arms after he’d set your feet back down securely to the ground. His grin was positively infectious as you took a step back from him, and you had to stifle your laughter. “There!” He exclaimed, fixing your hair idly as he spoke. “Now, let’s find someplace fun to waste some time in. Let’s let loose, MC.”

Grasping your hand he pulled you along through the streets, searching out a familiar haunt that would be filling in with devils soon. He didn’t pay mind to the confused looks he got along the way, loudly talking with you all the while. He didn’t let you rest until you’d arrived at wherever it was that he’d thought of.

The rooms were dimly lit, but there was a well-stocked bar at the far end of the largest one, the music blaring from speakers already despite guests just beginning to filter in. It wasn’t terribly large, more quaint than you’d expected for Beelzebub, but it was clear he was a common sight there, as no one batted an eye in his direction as he led you further in.

You clung to him as the crowd steadily grew, unwilling to be parted from your guide— and it wasn’t as though you disliked touching Beelzebub, either. There were certainly no complaints from him, either, as his hands groped and prodded your body in return. It wasn’t long before he led you to the dance floor, where his hands explored more boldly, front pressed against your back as you swayed to the music.

You knew it didn’t matter if you were any good at dancing, Beelzebub simply wanted you to lose yourself to the music, and more importantly with him.

It wasn’t difficult to persuade you, letting his body guide your movements, losing yourself to his touch and the vibrations in your body from the sounds around you and the mesmerizing lights.

You could hear his praises when his hot breath ghosted by the shell of your ear, sharp teeth toying with the cartilage. His lips finding your neck, his hands dipping lower— it was so easy to lose yourself with Beelzebub, that your worries melted away. Not even the inevitable repercussions that were to come from your escape could bother you.

You were thankful for how carefree the king who held you was, that he’d decided to encourage it within you, too.

Though you weren’t sure how long you were among those on the dance floor before Beelzebub inevitably led you towards the dark bathroom, your bodies barely parted for a moment. You locked the door behind the two of you, opting to lose yourself to him in another way, even if someone heard you.

[nichuuu]

Lemon.

Word count: 13k+

You decide that you don’t quite like Balls (get your head out of the gutter).

Music: odd. Yes, it’s a fancy mansion—5 floors, the works… But you don’t know how to feel about the sole pianist in the centre of the foyer, the one that’s playing some classical piece that has the people around you murmuring about his technique and sound (whatever the hell either of those meant).

People: you don’t know a good half of them. Scratch that—it’s a sea of strangers

Drinks: strong, way too fucking strong for your liking. The drinks are free of charge, and the bartender clearly didn’t shake this Pina Colada well, but you have to drink it if you want to even try and get into the mood of the party. Around you, men in posh suits and women in flamboyant dresses skirt each other, talk to each other with placid smiles—hoodwinking each other with their highfalutin laughs and smiles to establish connections that probably won’t matter in a couple of days. The only person you’ve talked to tonight is the bartender, and that was just to order your drink. 

This whole place stinks of capitalism, and you feel out of place in your cheaper suit and dress shoes. On your right, some guy is talking about how bitcoin and blockchain will make a grand return, some lady is gossiping about the latest Gucci handbag on your left. In front of you, a man and a woman are clearly flirting with each other, bashful grins on their faces as they hold their fancy drinks in their hands and talk about god knows what. You’re wondering if you should ask for a straw from the bartender just to dip your toes in social interaction.

Wonder why Cinderella was so hot on attending a Ball, thing seems pretty bland to me, you’re thinking, watching the tip of the ice that was shaped like an iceberg melt away and sink beneath the surface of your margarita. Some guy in a tux comes by, orders two glasses of Prosecco—one for him, one for the woman next to him. He’s talking loudly, disrupting your peace and quiet. Your solution: move seats.

From a distance—two chairs away from your original seat—you watch as he takes the two glasses from the hands of the bartender, hands one to the woman, then clinks his glass with hers. He’s preternaturally genteel, and you’d know because you recognised him as the guy that got slapped at the start of this whole thing because he grabbed the ass of someone’s wife. Impropriety, but it’s the behaviour of the newfangled rich. 

Now he’s bragging about his car. Nissan GTR fitted with this engine, this ventilation, blah, blah… Whatever it is he’s saying, the woman’s having none of it. You’re no psychologist, but you can tell that she wants to get out of a conversation; her smile is awfully sweet, but you can see that she’s silently importuring him to shut his trap—her eyes give it all away. You pity her, silently sending her your best wishes as the man grabs her by the arm and leads her back into the sea of people. Personally, you’d be screaming if you were in her shoes.

(Off to your left, just at the edge of your vision, you see your boss talking to a woman. She’s getting touchy, really touchy and really flirty; her hand’s on his thigh, fuck me eyes out to play and on full display—A trite tactic used by these types of women to get lucky with a rich man at these type of events. Luckily for her, your boss is quick to bite on to such bait. God bless them both.)

For the record: you’ve never really enjoyed Balls or anything of the ilk, because quite frankly speaking, you’d much rather burrow up in your bed at home and binge Kimini ni Todoke till you were giggling and squealing like a little schoolgirl. Maybe I’m still young, I’ll learn to like these types of events later on, you tell yourself, I’ll need connections at some point, maybe I should start—

A sickly sweet fragrance crawls up your nostrils, truncating all thought. Perfume, you’re quick to identify, and then you’re aware of the presence of someone on your right. Your grip on your glass grows tighter in the slightest; you’re praying—Please just be ordering a drink, please be ordering a drink.

Frankly, you don’t know why you’d ever think anyone would talk to you, an unimportant cog that just tagged along with his boss because he had nothing better to do. Irrational fears are really a funny thing.

Sharp, clear, resonant—three words that came to mind when you heard the voice of the person next to you, the voice that delivered the simplest of orders: Yamazaki. I want it neat. 

Your first thought is, Damn… Neat Whisky? Someone’s having a horrible night, as you turn your face away from her (if you couldn’t see her, she wouldn’t be able to see you, right?). And just as you’re wondering if she’s gonna take her drink and leave, your question is answered by the soft creak and even softer rustle of shifting fabric from your right. You bristle.

The glass makes a sound against the wood as it’s gently placed down on the table.

(Now would be an excellent time for a subtitle to come in, one that states in square brackets: Awkward silence.)

You can hear her swirling the liquid around in her glass. Fuck, now this is awkward… You’re thinking, and then you’re wondering if you should just get up and leave, absquatulate, skedaddle—any word that can convey the act of disappearing in an instant—right out of there. But as you start to slide your butt off the chair, that voice rings out once more.

“Not much of a talker, are you?”

She doesn’t know how her simple sentence has caged you in the most challenging position (to you at least). Now you’re sliding your ass back into the bar stool and you turn and face her—

(Now that you’re looking at her, your second thought about her comes in: God, she’s beautiful. Dark brown hair that falls just past her shoulders like velvet curtains, soft yet somehow piercing eyes, a smile that makes you feel fuzzy all over—probably one of the most attractive women you’ll ever meet. She’s the woman from earlier, the woman that you saw smiling and nodding placidly to that guy who got her the Prosecco. She must’ve found a way to slip away, and she has your full respect for that.)

—and you find that you’re drumming your nails against the base of your glass.

“Shy, huh?” she’s throwing out a guess, watching as the Whisky in her glass slowly swirls to a stop inside the chilled glass. “It’s been a while since I met a shy man. You’re a breath of fresh air.”

You shift in the stool, and your first instinct is to ask her if you two had met before. It’s only after that last syllable leaves your mouth that you realise how stupid of a question it is. You don’t know her, and judging by the fact that she hasn’t called you by your name: she doesn’t know you either. You let her decide whether to oust you as a fool as she scans you up and down.

(Update on your boss and that woman: She’s kissing him now, full on making out. It’s an unsettling sight to behold, and you attribute your queasiness to the fact that they’ve somehow found they’re way behind the woman you're talking to. Your boss doesn't see you; you choose not to see him. God bless them both.)

“Well… Considering that you don’t look the least bit familiar,” she sets the glass down, “and that you haven’t been introduced to me like some product by a crusty, old man… I think it’s safe to say that we’re.”

Now her eyes are on your drink. What are you drinking this fine night? She’s asking, using her chin to gesture towards your Pina Colada. You tell her exactly what it is, and she cringes slightly. They say Pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza, I say it doesn’t belong fucking anywhere. Oust it as a fruit! she’s telling you, making sure to add a little more emphasis on the word “oust” as she couches her firm belief, something you find rather hilarious considering that it’s your first meeting with her. She sips the Whisky, grimaces a bit, then sets the glass back down to say, we skipped past a lot of formalities, didn’t we?

And here comes the part of talking to strangers that you’re the most comfortable with—Introductions. You think that it is safe to assume that just about anyone would find saying hello and telling someone your occupation much easier than holding up a conversation, what more with a beautiful woman like her. You give her your name, tell her what you do for a living, the usual stuff. She listens, the gleam in her eyes that comes when you’re done talking ever so enigmatic and cryptic. 

“Lawyer huh?” She’s playing with her glass again, “considering were we are right now, I really shouldn’t be this surprised… Yet I am. Little shy for a guy dealing clients on the daily, no?”

Somehow, by the grace of some supernatural force (you call it alcohol), you crack your first joke of the night—I know. The most I ever talked is in court—and you’re relieved that she’s kind enough to humour you (or maybe she really does find it funny. You’ll never know), and gives you an elegant chortle, one that makes your hair stand at their ends as your third thought about her goes through your mind: even her laugh is attractive. Is there anything wrong with this woman? 

And when she tells you her name, you realise why she seems to be exuding this inexplicable aura; Minatozaki Sana, pleasure to meet you, she introduces herself with a generous amount of pizzaz. You’re scanning her up and down at this point, and only now do you take in the expensive dress that dons her slender frame, the same dress that’s accompanied by a glimmering necklace and earrings, 3 rings on her middle, index and ring finger respectively.

“You’re…” you begin.

“The host’s daughter? Yes.”

Now you’re at a loss for words. Well uh… It’s an honour to meet you, is what you plan on saying, but it comes out as a simple, more blunt manner: Oh damn. Sana’s giggling to herself, swirling her Whisky as she watches you struggle to find things to say to her.

“I take it that you don’t come around here often?” she asks. When you raise an eyebrow, she explains how her father hosts a Ball like this every other month to try and find her a “suitor”. Apparently, 27 years old is “too old”  to still be single, so my Dad just gets a bunch of men together and parades me around, she’s carping. The glimmering chandeliers, the array of drinks and food, the vanity of all these people; the dazzling marble floor, the glass sculptures, the embroidered tablecloths; this event, in all its glory and prestige, is all about her. 

Christ, you’re thinking to yourself, money really gets you to places, huh? 

Now she’s explaining how some of the people here are frequent visitors. Mothers and their sons, fathers and their sons, young business men, old business men, middle aged businessman; whoever can afford to come to this lavish Ball—all of them frequent this mansion like moths to a flame, all looking for a chance to ingratiate with the Minatozakis so that maybe, just maybe, they get a chance to get Sana’s hand in marriage. It’s a glorified yet obsolete form of Tinder really.

(Your boss is nowhere in sight now, and you’re pretty sure that the two of them have gone off somewhere to get it on. Maybe this event isn’t just about Sana, it’s about finding a rich person that can spoil you for the rest of your life too. God bless everyone here.)

“So what brings a man like yourself here this fine night?” She seems oddly interested in you (and also very hot on using this fine night as well apparently). You give her the truth that carries your watered down emotions in your tone—My boss asked me to tag along. Apparently all attendees were to bring a male plus one.

Sana chuckles, but it’s one of bitterness.

“So Dad’s reverted to these tactics huh?” you hear her whisper before taking an alarming large gulp of Whisky. She swallows, then sighs, “wonder what he’ll do next… Maybe an arranged marriage?”

Past the frustration and utter disappointment, there’s amusement in her voice. It tells you: if I could, I’d kill my Dad. It’s more of an inference from your end than a message that you’re sure that she’s trying to imply. You always had a bad habit of reading between the lines—probably picked it up from your job.

Sana downs the rest of the Whisky in a flash, wincing as the alcohol burns her throat. She scratches her nose, then turns to you and asks, “say, you don’t look like you want to be here, and neither do I.”

Behind you, you can hear the voice of a man approaching. He’s talking to someone—my daughter should like you very much, you seem like a man that suits her taste—and Sana bristles. Her father, you deduce, noting the way that the woman before you is searching around for an exit. Then you blink, and in that split second, she grabs your hand.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Just like that, you’re running through a crowd of people, spewing a million-and-one apologies as you jostle your way through the crowd, in tow behind a woman you've known for a grand total of 5 minutes. 

A very unlikely start to a romance really.

*

Now the gears in your head are whirring, your stomach’s churning—there’s no other way to describe how you feel when Sana’s looking at you like that from across the table: small smile, a slight gleam behind those eyes, hand under her chin and fingers tapping against her cheek… She’s got you in perdition just with a look. You’re a guy of relatively taciturn nature, and the last time you went on a date was in university. That date went horribly, and now you’re wondering if this one was gonna go up in flames as well. Your brain urges you to say something to her, but your mouth seems to be sewn shut. 

On the other hand, Sana’s poised as ever. “What’s wrong?” she’s cocking her head and pouting slightly, “nervous?”

You're not ashamed to admit that you indeed are, and that you’ve never really gone out on dates in a long time. Sana seems tickled by this—It’s been a while since I’ve seen a shy man. I like it, she tells you—and assures you that she won’t bite. In fact, she’s glad that you’re quiet and not rambling off about some business venture. She tells you, I don’t recall the last time I’ve been with a guy like you, though I’d appreciate it if you assist me in starting some conversation, and you’re slightly ashamed of your reticence. 

There’s a gleam in her eyes when you start asking her some questions on her personal life, and she finds it congenial to gesticulate in a moderate manner as she answers your questions. Her outgoing nature leaves you flummoxed, and there’s barely enough space in your brain to remember everything she tells you about herself. Born in Osaka, likes yoghurt smoothies, likes to take walks in the park, likes this, likes that… You vaguely remember her telling you this on the night that the two of you escaped that event.

(To jog your own memory: She took you to the garden, where the two of you spent the rest of the night strolling amongst shrubs and other greenery that thrived in Spring. The Pina Colada in your system allowed you to hold a conversation, one that lasted long enough for her to take a liking to you. At the end of it all, she gets your number, you get her’s, and a date’s been settled in some french restaurant she patronises.)

“Now, I don’t expect you to remember all of this,” she’s watching the wine leave streaks against the glass, “but if you do, I believe you're entitled to some extra points.” 

“Points?” you’re keen on inquiring, “we’re keeping a scoreboard?”

Sana simply smiles. For asking that question, minus 2 from you, is her answer—not a very good one if you were to be blunt. You can’t suppress a chuckle as you take a sip from your own wine.

Unwittingly, Sana has eased you into her presence. It suddenly feels like you’ve known her forever (if forever meant 2 weeks that is).

A smooth start to a relationship if you do say so yourself.

*

“Sana, there’s people out there.”

“I know.”

“They might hear us.”

“I know.”

“We could get caught.”

“We won’t.”

It’s the confidence in her voice that irks you really. The lack of hesitance combined with the sheer lack of shame towards the fact that anyone outside the changing room in this damn Prada store could easily raise a phone over the door and start recording. It’s not that she’s not cognizant of this, but more of the fact that she doesn’t give two shits if someone captures a video of her blowing you in this dressing room. Shameless, aplomb, obstinate, are the three words that come to mind when dealing with Sana at the given moment, but there’s no energy in you to convey this to her, not when she wraps her lips around your cock. The outfits that she chose remain untouched behind her, fabrics still in light while the person that chose them remains active on her knees. 

(Almost a year. Almost a year the two of you have been dating. You thought you’d learned all there is to know about her, yet she’s hitting you with new facts and surprises every day, left, right, and centre. There are probably many more things that you have yet to figure out, but they’ll all come to light in due time.)

Really, it’s on you for not exercising due diligence upon entering the store; you should’ve known better from the moment you saw that look in her eyes while she was looking at a dress. But there’s nothing you can do about it now, not when she’s already enraptured you with that damn gaze—the one that exudes want and lust, the one that’s the leaven to your morality in her eyes. She knows that she’s got you wrapped around her finger when your hand rests itself atop of her head as she slowly bobs her head over your crotch. She’s taking her time despite the situation that she’s placed the both of you in. 

“This has always been on my bucket list,” she’s letting her hand run along your shaft, spreading her saliva with each stroke of her palm. Her nails, freshly done just over 2 hours ago, glisten under the light—partially because of her spit and partly because of the gloss. “Everything about this is just so… Eroctic, isn’t it?”

Christ, she’s really into this thrill-seeking thing, you note as you choke out a reply: Not particularly, but whatever floats your boat Sana (obviously, it doesn’t come out as smooth as it should. No one would be able to get out a full sentence with phonics properly strung together if they too were getting blown in a changing room). She’s got a glint in her eye, but it’s covered by your shaft as she slides her tongue down your cock, nose brushing against the base of your cock, just behind her tongue. She knows what she’s doing, she’s given you head before; she’s building up the suspense and waiting for you to beg for more. You really don’t want to indulge her, you really don’t, but there’s not much you can do when she starts placing kisses on your shaft—base to tip in a fervently slow fashion. How far is she gonna go with this, you can’t help but wonder, but you quickly have your question answered in the next second or so.

“Unenthusiastic?” she quips, “minus four”.

She wraps her lips around you and pushes her head forward, and you almost let the people in the store know that something’s going down in here.

You figure that the feeling of her lips wrapped around your shaft will never get old, not when it sends electricity up your spine and makes your hand ball into a fist in her hair. Her eyes seem to glint as you let out a sharp gasp. Yes, you could be caught by an employee at any second. Yes, you could very well be caught on camera by a customer at any second. There were a lot of things to consider when assessing the dangers of the circumstances that Sana has put the both of you in. Yet, none of them take anything away from the pleasure she’s bringing you, not as she starts to bob her head in beat to the metronome in her head. There’s no point in trying to figure out her pace. 

“Jesus… Fuck… Sana I…” Your voice is—somehow—hushed as you struggle to convey how weak she’s making you, but it’s not like you need to anyway—she knows exactly what she’s doing, and she’s loving every second of the havoc she’s wreacking upon your senses. The slight tug in the corner of her lips is the suggestion of a smirk, and the muffled noise that rises from her throat is the implication of a giggle. 

There's a knock on the door and you bristle; Sana slows down, but she doesn’t stop. Past the door, the voice of the staff that led you to this very room asks if everything is alright in there, and you’re praying that her eyes aren’t set on the floor. Sana locks eyes with you, then darts her eyes to the door to tell you—Answer it goddamnit. Of course, she doesn’t make it easy for you as you open your mouth, applying light suction to your tip as you find the strength to say: Yep, just give us a few more minutes please, making you choke on that last word and sending alarms blaring in your head. Thankfully, the store assistant is kind enough to leave you with a take your time sir, and the shadow of her feet disappear from the gap beneath the door. It’s then that Sana pops your glistening cock out of her mouth.

“A few more minutes, huh?” She’s got drool on the corner of her lips as she rises to her feet. “Better make this quick then. You gotta keep your word as a lawyer, don’t you?”

Her wit is certainly better than most of your colleagues.

(There are customers outside now, you can hear them talking to the store assistant. They sound vaguely familiar… Maybe you heard them at the restaurant? Or maybe they’re colleagues… No, that can’t be it, at least you hope so).

Now for the record: you’ve seen Sana naked on multiple occasions, be it voluntarily or not. The shower, the bedroom, even a public shower at the pool… You could name a lot more places where she’d shamelessly flaunted her nude body before you off the top of your head. “A body to die for” is a fitting expression for Sana; you’ve always wondered if you’d find her on the top of the Google image search if you were to look up “dream bodies”, and you figure that you can probably get her there if you could somehow take pictures with your eyes as she undresses before you. She’s more methodical than anything, straying away from her usual teasing nature for the sake of being quick (that’s what you infer from her behaviour, but really, she could just be extremely horny and desperate. There’s never a solid answer to Sana’s behaviour). Mini skirt, then top, then bra; she’s going through the motions that she’d usually drag out just to get a reaction out of you preternaturally quickly.

Why is she getting naked in a changing room? You have no clue. Your best guess: she’s doing it for the thrill of it. The thought of getting caught completely nude with her boyfriend speared inside of her must be sending lethal doses of adrenaline through her veins. A pretty solid guess if you do say so yourself. No time for anymore guesses anyway—she’s already brought your hand up to her right breast, and she’s closing her eyes to enjoy the feel of your fingers closing around the semi-firm flesh. Her top lip’s furling behind her front teeth, she’s letting her other hand rest on your arm. She’s telling you where she wants it—did you cum in my ass yesterday? Or was it the day before? Ah, whatever… Give me a fucking creampie—in this soft, low voice that sends a velvet chill down your spine. Then she's kissing you softly, sweetly, nibbling on your top lip as usual, all while pushing you to the corner of the room where your feet aren't visible to those outside, flushing your back against the wall. It’s an uncomfortable fit, but that quickly changes when she grips the middle of your shaft and lines you tip up with her slit. The hand on her tit is guided to that slim waist, your other hand quickly finding its place on that symmetrical, slim figure. 

“I don’t care if I cum or not,” she drawls, trailing a finger down your chest, “I just want your load inside me, right here, right now. Just focus on that, nothing else.”

(Half request, half demand—give her an award for being so damn ambiguous. Subtitles that could translate what she truly means would be really, really handy right now. Alas, such a system doesn’t exist.)

Describing how Sana’s pussy felt would be doing her injustice. The feeling was ineffable. From entering her to hilting yourself inside of her, there was never a second of that process where you had an easy time breathing or thinking. You’ve never been so reliant on your senses to keep you grounded in reality, nor have you ever been so glad that Sana’s nails are digging into your shoulder. This position—facing each other, standing and fucking against the wall of (all places) a changing room—is a stranger to the both of you, but the sheer tightness of her cunt working hand in hand with the intimacy of it all has you welcoming it with open arms.

Your hips are moving on their own, taking liberties without signals from your fried brain as you start thrusting into Sana. For long, wordless minutes, you're thrusting into Sana in a mindless, slow fashion, relishing the  feel of her skin in your palms, the look on her face, the soft moans that are slowly slipping from her ever so slightly opened lips. Then your ability to think slowly returns, and you’re thinking like a damn neanderthal—tight, wet, hot, so fucking good—as your grip on her waist tightens. Your shaft glistens in the light of the changing room, slick with her sweet juices as it slips in and out of her slick, spearing into her with depth, making her legs weak. Sana cups your cheek, lifts your head, and it’s now that you see how her eyes have been completely glazed over with lust and want. Her face, her figure down to the sounds she’s making; everything about her, about this, is the phantasmagoria of a wet dream.

If you were being completely true to yourself right now: You couldn’t care less if you got caught. 

And as if on cue, the voices approach as soon as you finish that train of thought. 

“Do you provide altercation services?” It’s the voice of a man, closely followed by that of the store assistant: Of course sir. After you try on the suit, you can note how you’d like it to be altered to your liking. 

A shadow of feet appears at the base of the door. Sana cups a hand over her mouth as the door rattles—the customer trying to open it. You stop your movements, breath caught in your throat as the store assistant tells him to use the other fitting room. Sana’s breath is loud in your ears as a second set of footsteps approach, followed by a female voice that asks, “Is my husband in there?” 

Yes ma’am, is the assistant’s reply. Of course, this is hardly the end of it.

Now, as the woman engages the store assistant in conversation right outside your door, Sana lets the hand on her mouth drop. She flushes herself against you as the store assistant answers, and she whispers, “Keep going”.

Endlessly seeking thrill. Classic Sana.

The logical part of you warns you against doing as she says. Sadly, there’s not much room for logic in your head in the given circumstances, not when your balls-deep inside your girlfriend in a changing room. There’s barely enough room for dilemma to occur; Sana’s the sole occupant of your mind, rent-free, free-hold, and really: she’s the only thing that matters right now. 

She almost, just almost, lets out a cry when you spear yourself back inside her. You didn't expect to start so soon, and neither did she. However, catching her by surprise is a novelty to you, and you relish in that brief rush of smugness before you restart your movements. Her mouth is frozen in a silent scream, but her eyes say all that she wants to: smug asshole, I’ll kill you later. You reply by letting your index and forefinger slip into her still-open mouth. 

“Personally, I enjoy the Italian selection more…” The store assistant’s voice is barely audible to you over Sana’s small, muffled moans that manage to skirt your fingers and Sana’s closed lips, and as the lady starts talking about trench coats, Sana coats your fingers with a fresh layer of saliva, turning your fingers slick and slimy with her tongue as she looks you dead in the eye, as if challenging you: Is this the best you can do? Is this the riskiest you can be?

Every question from her deserves an answer, and your’s is to remove your saliva-slicked fingers out of her mouth, draw a circle with her spit just above her collarbone, then whisper right into her ear: I’m gonna mark you right there. The involuntary gasp that she lets out tugs the corner of your lips up into a perverse smile. Slowly your lips drift down to the glistening spot, and you wait just a moment to build up that sweet-sweet suspense. It’s a split second, but it’s a second too much for her to bear—the way her body tenses when you finally make contact is the clearest indication you will ever receive. And when you start sucking, God does she almost drive you over the edge: she tightens, she gasps, she starts twitching; she loves it, every second your lips stay locked around that sweet spot of skin is bliss to her.

You can hear the door to the other fitting room unlock, and you hear the man’s heavy footsteps as he walks out, no doubt in that suit he had earlier. The compulsory question comes: how do I look?

There’s a brief moment of silence, and you’re almost fearful of the fact that maybe, just maybe, their ears are picking up on the ragged breathing and slightly audible squelching coming from the other fitting room. All consternation dissipates when the woman starts to comment on how she looks, but Sana seems to have an answer to his question as well: So good. So fucking good. Harder, let me feel all of you, fuck me harder. Oh fuck, you’re so fucking deep. 

You look dashing honey. The pitch of the woman’s reply harmonises with Sana’s soft whine as your lips leave her skin, the same patch where you’ve left your purple artwork on. I think we can afford to alter the pants—

Sana crushes your lips against hers, hot breath filling your mouth as you feel her lift her leg. You hold the back of her knee (like the gentleman you are), bring it to your side, hold it there. She bites your lower lip, hard enough for her to pull and tug it as you start losing yourself in her: her scent, her breath, her skin—all of it’s so deliciously addicting. You can’t get enough.

Then she’s going straight to moaning into your mouth, letting those muffled cries permeate in the small space and hopefully not outside the fitting room. She’s wet, she’s tight, she’s everything you need right now. You want, so badly, to pull her apart, ruin her till you can’t put her back together, get her begging at the top of her lungs for you to fuck her harder and harder. 

And you’re almost on the verge of calling her a slut. There’s no need for that though, she knows what she’s made of herself.

—so that they’re a little shorter. I think we could also try—

Sana’s figured out the best way to moan: straight into your ear. She’s not letting up with them, and she’s giving you one hell of an array of sounds. There’s the common ah, the not so common, oh, and the very common shit, fuck, fuck me and so good. Her phonics are so loosely strung together that they’re just a jumbled mess, and you're perfectly ensconced with that; you love hearing those lazy, sloppy cries, and they only seem even more melodic at this volume, at this moment. Fuck, record them and play them as white noise as you sleep.

—changing the colours of the buttons? Ooh! Maybe we could even change the stitching around—

She tilts her head back, and you’re peppering her neck with kisses. She loves it, you know she loves it; all this attention, all this adrenaline, all this carnality she’s invoking—all of it for her. Each time you grunt, she knows that she’s the damn reason for it. Every time your fingers dig into her thigh a little more, she knows it’s because of her. Every kiss on her neck, every inch of her pussy you fill with your rock-hard meat, all of it’s for her. She isn’t vain, nor is she a pick me girl, but she sure as hell knows how to make you treat her like she’s the only girl in the fucking world, and you’re more than happy to give her what she wants.

Because it’s always like this with Sana: if she wants it badly enough, she’ll formulate a stratagem to get it, nip her cravings in the bud before they turn into desires that she can’t control. Mind you, she’s not dissolute; she’s just “riding the highs of life” as she calls it. Pretty bullshit and circumlocutory, but you always let her off the hook.

—the pocket area? That’s my two cents. What do you think darling?

Another moment of silence follows, and Sana seizes the opportunity to nibble on your earlobe. Her leg’s sweaty, slowly slipping from your grasp and trembling from the pleasure that’s giving her voice this lilt when she says: Carry me. Fuck me. Cum in me. Please. Pleasure, coursing through your veins, makes you comply in an almost servile manner. It’s precipitous, even fatuous to pull such a stunt in a fitting room of all places, but when your hands are supporting her by her ass and her legs lock around your waist, there’s no turning back.

And as the man starts going off on his own preferences, Sana’s wrapping her arms around your neck, letting you get a look at those bouncing breasts as you reach new depths inside of those slick, warm walls. If she could cry out, she would, but those damn customers outside are placing her in a box here, and it’s clearly frustrating her. If you were at your place, her hands gripping your sheets and her juices messing up your quilt, she could moan, mewl, cry and cuss however loud she wanted. In a way, it was funny to watch her hold back, but at the same time: you so badly want to make her scream, undo her right here and now and make her a mess in your arms, but you’ll settle for what you have right now. What the two of you have created is controlled chaos, and should it be released past that damn changing room door, God knows what will happen.

Now it’s the store assistant’s turn to speak, and she’s giving them a rundown of the pricings. Outside, they’re talking about the possibility of a discount; inside, Sana’s talking about how deep you feel inside of. Outside, the man’s trying to guilt-trip the store assistant by saying how exorbitant the price is; inside, Sana’s exclaiming and pleading in a hushed voice—Own me. For the love of God, fucking o-own me!—as each thrust you make into her pussy sends her further and further down this rabbit hole of pleasure. It takes guts to fuck in a fitting room, but it takes the guts of Minatozaki Sana to be this needy while fucking in a fitting room. The risks of being caught are high, the risk of being heard even higher, but neither of those affect her ardour. At a controlled volume, she’s pleading for you to fuck her harder, faster, unravel every single bit of her being while she tries to keep herself together. It’s one hell of a show, and it’s one hell of an experience too. 

(The sight of her perfect body flushed against yours as she’s fucked in the air, the smell of her sickly sweet perfume, the feeling of that divinely tight pussy wrapped snugly around your shaft like a damned glove, the way those sonorously soft moans filter into your ears. Add these together with the fact that the people outside could hear you at any second, and you’ve got one hell of a recipe for a voyeurist’s wet dream. You’re no voyeurist, but everything about this moment is making you feel like one.

Right now, this is everything to Sana. Having you this close to her, feeling that cool Prada air conditioning against her bare body, listening to you grunt and sigh as you piston yourself in and out of that slick, wet slit… All her needs are being fulfilled, all of her senses heightened and primed, aware of every movement you make inside of her pussy. Sometimes, you feel so good and oh fuck, or maybe even oh god isn’t enough to convey how she feels, so she just opts to let out this strained, strangled gasps that tells you everything you need to know—a maelstrom of emotions and expressions compressed and compacted into one simple “hngh” is enough for you to know that you’re doing something right.)

“You like this Sana?” you find yourself whispering. “You like being fucked like a damn slut with people just outside, don’t you? You like everything about this, don’t you?”

Right now, she doesn’t have that capacity to reply. Of course, you know this, which makes you feel all the more smug as you watch, watching as she slips into a state of complete, utter bliss: her mouth hangs open, her eyes are unfocused, she’s barely holding on to you. The purple mark that your lips have left on her neck sears itself into your sight, and it’s joined by the breathtaking view of her breasts loosely bouncing each time you drive yourself into her. Loose strands of hair are flying, neither of you have any hands free to fix them. Her legs are quaking around your waist, neither of you want to stop just so that she can be back down on the floor. Her eyes are closing, you can feel her heartbeat in her pussy, she’s begging, pleading, fucking imploring you to keep going. 

Christ. You want her to moan as loud as she can for you.

It’s hard not to get turned on by the sight of it, and it’s even harder to keep yourself controlled under the rapidly tightening grip of her cunt. Her breaths are shallow, her head is almost completely limp. She may not seem to be aware of it, but you sure as hell are more than cognizant of the fact that the both of you are about to hit that peak that you’ve been chasing for the past God-knows-how-many minutes.

“Sana.” Uttering her name is all that’s needed to bring her back to the real world. When you have her attention, you give her the sentence that she’s been waiting to hear for so damn long: I’m gonna fucking fill you, and It’s like the air gets heavier when she softly whispers, pleads for you to fulfill her new desire; cum with me. I need it so bad. 

Controlled orgasm would take strength to pull off, and you silently pray that you have that strength as you send one final thrust between her shaking legs. Your cock twitches, spasms and the first rope of your warm seed that’s sent into her waiting walls is enough to send her over the edge. She bites down on your shoulder, quick enough to muffle the cry that escapes her throat. The tightening of her walls seem to coordinate with each spasm of your cock, and they sync up, working together to get every last drop of cum out of you and into her. She lets a soft moan escape her lips with each spurt, as though welcoming it, as though each one were something she long wanted and needed. You let out a single, soft grunt, as though thanking her, as though every twitch of her walls that sends a shock down your cock is a treasure to be relished.

So the scarf that she brought in to try is no longer just an ornament like the rest of the outfits. Even after adjusting her outfit, the fabric still can't seem to cover that hickey you left on her collarbone. The simple solution: Sana waits there, you buy the scarf, hand it to her, she puts it on and the both of you walk out of the store like nothing happened, like the both of you really were in there to try on some clothes, then leave. 

It’s unsuspecting, it’s smooth. The store assistant wishes you a good day, and Sana smiles and waves to her, looking exactly like she did when she entered, plus a scarf. The only difference in Sana’s entrance and exit from the Prada store is the load between her legs.

But that’s a secret for the two of you.

*

“Hey. Could I talk to you about something?”

In your two years of dating Sana, never have you heard her this nervous in your life. The fact that your client isn’t responding to you a day before his trial plagues you no more, and your laptop is shut before she can close the door. 

Your posture—arms crossed atop the desk and back straight—is all she needs. The message is implicit: I’m here, all ears, and she smiles softly as she walks over to the bed. The frame creaks a little as she settles down.

“My uh… My Dad is organising another one of those damned Balls again.” The way she intonates her words tells you that the Ball is the least of her concerns at the moment. “It’s gonna be at the usual time.. Usual place… Not like we can move it anyway.”

You offer her a chuckle to assuage her, diffuse the tension a little. She manages a half-forced giggle at her own joke. Is this a transitional opening? Or is this legitimately the subject of her conversation? you’re thinking, and as you sip from your cup, that subtle shift in her posture is shifting the atmosphere of the room. 

She’s scared, but of what?

“I was wondering,” she drums her nails against her knees, “could I… Introduce you to him tomorrow? M-My Dad I mean.”

And now you suddenly understand why she’s on edge. She’s not scared for herself; she’s scared for you. The head of the Minatozaki clan, Sana’s father—you heard much about him, partly because of the stories that Sana tells you and partly from the things you heard through the grapevine at work. In your firm, there’s a whole box dedicated to storing suits that have been opened by him on the intern’s table (it’s a hilariously off-putting thing to say out loud), and from what you’ve heard: there’s another two in the storage room. Personally, you’ve assisted a colleague in one of his lawsuits, and the emails you billed weren’t pretty. You’d be throwing out a fib if you ever couched that you never once thought: It’s a pretty bad first impression of the man, could he maybe… You know… Stop suing people? Please? but you’re not going to let a mere few boxes and one night of reading through emails determine your perception of Sana’s father. 

And hopefully, he won’t judge a book by its cover too.

“I have a trial tomorrow Sha,” you remind her, but it’s not like you actually expected her to remember this; you whispered it to her while cuddling on the couch a solid week ago. “I don’t know when I’ll end. It might be a little tight for me.”

It's undeniable that she sighs in relief. The blush that follows the breath is a clear indication. She’s glad, too glad. You can't help but ask: What’s up? Think I’ll flub everything when I meet him?

Sana does that thing where she wants to answer, but doesn’t know how to: her mouth opens, closes, opens again—longer this time, then closes again. It isn’t an easy thing to talk about; what your father will think of your partner is never not a touchy matter. All touchy matters should be discussed in comfort (Sana knows that you strongly believe in this, that’s why she’s situated herself on the bed), and you join her on the mattress. 

“WIll he feel that I’m not enough for you?” You’re prodding, all while you gently reach for her hand and grasp it in your own. It’s cold, really cold. You’ll warm it up with your palms, keep them there while she replies, “it’s not that… I know that you’re more than enough for me, that’s what matters to him… At least I think so.”

She’s staring down at her hand, the one that’s slowly heating up via the warmth of your hand. Then what’s making you so worried? you’re asking. She folds her bottom in, past her front teeth. You rub her knuckle with your thumb.

“Yea I… I don’t know what’s making me so worried either,” she finally muses. “Guess I’m just… New to this practice. Never had to do it before...”

Because all the men that have tried to win you over have never lasted for more than a week, you complete in your head, smiling as she lays her other hand over yours. It’s cold too—that won’t do.

And as you set another hand atop hers, she’s asking you for a kiss. Luckily for her, obliging her wants is your specialty, and your lips are quickly travelling that small gap between the two of you. Connection is made, and you physically feel her relax. You know. You know that she belides a truth that she’s not ready to divulge. It’s in her kiss, it’s in her hands, and that’s fine with you. You can infer that it’s not something that’s going to be detrimental to your relationship, and whenever she’s ready to speak about it, you’ll always be available.

Now the kiss is done, she’s asking for fried chicken. You counter-ask if the kiss was to soften you up so that she could ask for her Famichiki. Of course, you get a classic Sana reply: a “maybe”, followed by that mischievous grin. You rise from the bed to grab your coat. 

You're glad that the Konbini is just next to your apartment. Sana’s glad that she gets to be close to you as you walk through the snowy street.

“You know,” she’s whispering, “I really won’t mind if you propose to me one of these days.”

You laugh it off, kiss her on her forehead. 

In your head: you note to start looking for a nice ring.

*

Money can get you to places, but it can also get you a private soundproof karaoke room in a club. Three and a half years of dating—that’s all you need to know: you can bet your left kidney that Sana is taking full advantage of that room.

The bottle of Whisky that she opened to get the room is hardly the main event; Sana, slowly slipping out of that tight black dress she’s wearing, foreground to the default music that’s on the TV, has your unwavering attention. The smile on her face could've been mistaken for a sweet one if it weren’t for the fact that she’s getting naked, and the lack of a bra really doesn’t help with her case either.

“There isn’t a time limit to the use of this room, right?” You know the answer to that is no, the lady at the counter told you so. The question is more of a gauge, an instrument that’s helping you assess her plans for the night.

“If you’re trying to know how long we’ll be here for,” she slings her dress onto the couch next to you, and in her stockings and panties, saunters over with a sultry sway in her hips, “my answer is a secret.”

“I have work tomorrow, Sana.”

“Too bad. Call in sick.”

She picks up the glass of Whisky, raises it to her lips. When she drinks, she lets some of that amber liquid trickle out past her lips, down past her chin and onto her tits. In the light, her wet skin glistens and shimmers, and you once again find yourself in absolute awe with the woman before you. And as she straddles you, glass in hand, the way she uses her fingers to tilt your face up to the light tells you that she’s in control. She takes a sip of the amber liquid, swallows it, then brings it to your lips.

“Be a good boy,” she’s tipping the glass as she speaks, a strong way to convey that there’s no room for disobedience, “say ‘ahh’ for me baby.” 

The glass is cold against your lips, the liquor even colder on your tongue as it flows into your mouth at a manageable rate. When she stops pouring, you take the cue, and you swallow all of it in one gulp. The burn in your throat is oddly rewarding, probably because Sana’s smiling down at you, stroking your hair and telling you how obedient you are as you swallow. Then she makes you open your mouth again, pours another portion down the hatch. 

How does it taste, she’s asking, cupping your right cheek as she swirls the glass. You give her a short honest review of it: It’s good. The answer pleases her, and she sets down the glass in her hand to pick up the bottle from the table next to you. 

“Yamazaki, 12 year old single Malt.” She’s letting you see the bottle under the light, though you have to admit that her tits right next to the bottle are a horrible distraction. “My personal favourite.”

She unscrews the cap and takes a swig straight from the bottle, swallows it without even flinching. She’s always been able to hold her alcohol well, and you know for a fact that she can probably outdrink 5 of your colleagues and maybe, just maybe, your boss too. But you’ll never have a fair gauge on how well she can drink in comparison to your peers; she only drinks around you. 

Your face is back in her hand, and she’s got some more things to say—Drink it neat, on the rocks, add it to another drink, it tastes great no matter what—as she starts to lightly grind herself over your throbbing shaft in your pants. But you know what the best way to drink it is, she asks you. She’s not looking for an answer from you, just finding a way to transition from the Whisky to whatever it is she has in mind—you can tell because she leans down to capture lips right after she throws out the inquiry, kissing you deeply, her tongue playing aggressively on your lips before searching your mouth for its counterpart. The smell of Whisky is so damn strong on her breath, and the only thing hotter than the burning sensation in your throat is the fact that she’s using one hand to play with herself, the bottle of Whisky in the other. You can hear it slosh next to your ear as she raises it. 

And as she breaks the kiss, the thin strand of saliva connecting the two of you doesn’t stop her from providing the answer to her question—it tastes the best when you drink it right off my body—as she straightens herself. The next second, still playing with herself, she’s bringing the bottle to her lips, tipping it just before it touches those red-tinted lips to let the golden liquid flow down her chest and breasts. There's no time to admire; you reach out and catch the rapidly falling liquid, your tongue pressed tightly to her skin to lap up as much of the bitter liquor as you could. Her skin glistens with the Whisky on it. It looks like gold in the snow. She smells like lavender and lust.

Your tongue, saturated with Whisky, finds and captures her left nipple. You close your lips around it, suckling deeply from her chest, enjoying the taste of her body and the liquor that made it spicy and bitter. Sana gasps and moans as you have your way with her chest, fondling her small mounds, suckling both of her taut nipples—roughly, hungrily. You could say that she’s wasted some perfectly good Whisky, but you say that she’s added complex flavours to an already exquisite meal. The blend of alcohol and Sana’s skin is not something you never knew you needed, but now you do. The novelty of it, the sheer lust she’s emanating, all of it makes her tits taste better than ever, and you find yourself leaving marks on her cleavage, the right side of her left breast, the left side of her right breast; every centimetre of skin that can be reached is marked and tasted—your attempt at dipping your toes in a little control in this karaoke room that is Sana’s domain.

Maybe you’re a little over-indulgent in her, maybe you’re just unaware, but you certainly can’t feel her slipping your tie off your neck. By the time you’re aware of the sudden feeling of freedom at your throat, she’s already wrapping your wrists, securing them together with an intricate knot. You know damn well that even the boy scouts couldn’t untie this one, even if they sent their best member. The theory is only enforced when Sana asks you to try pulling your wrists apart, and it feels like they’ve been superglued together. Satisfied, she feeds you some more Whisky off her body, then it’s time for her fun.

Palm flat against your chest, eyes flaring, wicked smile; Sana pushed you back against the couch with graceful authority—something that only she is capable of. Then it’s onto your shirt, and he’s unbuttoning it with practised dexterity: unfastening, pulling—motions so fast that she has your reverence for mastering the art. She takes a moment, parts the fabric covering your chest and runs a fingernail down the centre of your torso. The nail—painted black with little Sakura flowers adorning it—stops at your belt. It isn’t hesitance that keeps her finger there; it’s the innate cheekiness that makes her linger there a little longer, that makes her smile softly as the other hand joins in and starts undoing the clasp of your belt. Not a word is uttered as she pulls apart your belt, then goes straight for the buckle of your belt. 

Then it’s back to kissing. Sloppy, passionate kissing. Sloppy, passionate kissing as she runs her fingers through your hair. The Whisky on both of your breaths mingle. Admittedly, you’re feeling a little floaty, engendering a pleasant tingle on your skin as she starts placing kisses on your cheek, then on your jaw. Next thing you know, she’s sucking hard at the nape of your neck, marking you with those lovely lips, as if she’s placing a wax seal on you, declaring: you are mine and mine alone. And when she successfully sears the shape of her lips onto your skin, she traces the slick outline with a finger, whispers softly, You have no idea how much I want to own you right now. 

The excitement is palpable, the tension even more so. She’s whispering all sorts of things to you—most of them entailing what she’s about to do with your cock—all while she starts to slip your briefs off of your legs. Your cock springs out of your pants, slaps against her ass and twitches on the rotund flesh. The smile grows wider, devilish dimples appear. And for the record: no, she’s not gonna blow you. She’s gonna make herself cum before anything else happens, and she’s going to make you feel things you’ve never felt before. 

She slides off you, gets back up on her feet. With her back turned to you, she bends forward at the waist, shaking her ass while she uses her thumbs to hook onto the waistband of her panties. She looks over her shoulder, eyes locked on yours. With a little hop, she pushes the fabric down and off her hips, kicking it to the side. She looks over her shoulder, eyes locked on yours. With a little hop, she pushes the fabric down and off her hips, kicking it to the side. Her pussy glistens in the light, flushed pink and folds tantalising as ever puffy and swollen with excitement.

She bends her knees, getting down on all fours.

She wiggles her ass at you, looking back at you over her shoulder.

“Bet you wished,” she gets on her back, spreads her legs to get the spotlight on her slit, “that you could absolutely own me like this right now, don’t you?”

She’s so cocksure. It’s driving you crazy. You swallow, your voice barely audible as you utter her name. She crawls to you, sits up, her face in front of yours, so close, so hot. Her hand touches the back of your head, her voice barely a whisper as she grips the base of your cock—but you can’t, and it’s so damn frustrating, isn’t it?—and rubs your tip between her dripping folds, lathering her juices all over your head and smiling all the way through. 

And when you least expect it, she turns and sinks down on your cock.

You throw your head back, groan, the sound of her wetness as she takes your cock into her pussy loud and clear over the music. Your head falls forward again, watching her sink further and further, taking more and more of your cock inside her with every passing moment as she lets a long, drawn-out moan float through the air. When her crotch meets yours and you are fully embedded inside her, a soft, wordless cry of pleasure that leaves open lips. You meet it with a sigh of your own, somehow tearing open your own shut eyes to watch the expression on her beautiful face as you fill her. 

Christ, fuck and god—just some of the words that you want to cry out as she starts to slowly grind herself against you. The ride she’s about to take is one that’s of perverse nature; it’s not going to be a slow, pleasant ride. Naturally, her habit of jumping straight into things leaves her unprepared for what she’s about to experience, so now she has to slowly slowly adjust to your size, like striking the flint over and over next to the fireplace as you hope to get a flame going. Usually, this would be a time where you’d caress that beautiful body, run your hands over that unblemished white skin and pepper kisses all over the places that she loves to be kissed. But she’s not in the mood for that, not when she has this room and you at her disposal. 

Then the fire ignites, and it is merciless, a force of nature—untameable, unrelenting. In your bonds you are unable to resist. You never would’ve in the first place. She begins to move, her pussy tight and slick around your cock. She rides you like she was made to do this, like a pro. She rides you fiercely, roughly, taking you in and out of her tight wet heat, caring little for your comfort or much of anything aside from stuffing herself over and over with thick, hard meat. Throughout it all she is digging into your thigh, crying out like her life depends on it as she goes up, down, up, down—a lewd seat on a merry go round.

Yes, yes, yes—she throws her head back, auburn hair flying like streamers in the wind as she has her way with you—o-oh fuck I need this! I need this so fucking bad! The rhythmic, repetitive motion, her unbridled desire to be filled, it sends you reeling. The pressure on your leg is forgotten, the slight discomfort in your arms pushed out of the way. You can do nothing but watch her ride you. You can do nothing but marvel at how good you feel inside her, how the tightness of her pussy massages your shaft, how the way she takes you so completely into her folds, how you stretch her and make her quiver and quake.

A part of you wishes the mirror were visible from your current position, so that you could watch as Sana impales herself over and over on your cock. You want to watch the expression of pleasure wrangle her cute features, want to watch her full, round breasts bounce up and down, want to watch every muscle of her long, perfectly shaped legs work to throw her body again and again against your cock. But you’ll have to content yourself with the almost equally alluring view of her sweaty back (not that it was a particularly difficult position to enjoy. How could you call it “bad” with the view of her round, full ass as she slams it down against your crotch?). It’s not like you can change anything about this anyway. No—the only thing you can do is sit back, watch, and savour how her ass jiggles as it crashes against your crotch.

Oh fuck, oh yes! I’m so fucking full! I’m so stuffed with this cock!

You lose yourself to the sound of her voice, the feeling of her pussy as it swallows up your cock, the sight of her back arching and her hands shaking. As much as you try, you find yourself unable to move, as though your own pleasure has been drained out of your body, and you are just an observer. You watch as she pushes herself down further on your cock, impaling herself with every thrust of her hips, her voice growing louder and louder as she gets into that dangerous rhythm, the rhythm that makes you think she’s on Acid. Well-formed breasts bounce, you see them past her slender figure. Her shapely, luscious ass ripples. Long legs work overtime, cooperating with the stamina of the girl who is using them to drive herself over the edge like it’s her be-all and end-all. It’s exhilarating. It’s thrilling. 

It’s so fucking hot. 

Oh god. You’re stretching me out so good. This cock feels so damn good!

Two things are getting you at the moment: (1) The sweat glistening that’s building up on her back. (2) The fact that she’s pushing your thighs apart to get more of you inside her. The former sight is a breathtaking process really: beady moisture on that well built back, pooling at all the best places and making her skin glow as some of it slowly trickles down her spine. The latter’s no grain of sand either mind you, maybe even hotter than Sana’s sweaty back if you dare say. Freshly done nails sit just outside the insides of your thighs, the palms that they’re connected to pushing down against the flesh beneath them. They’re indenting the muscles of your thighs, it’s uncomfortable, but only for a second at a time. 

I don’t wanna stop. I don’t wanna fucking stop!

In your restraints, your hands grasp at the flesh that’s so close yet so far, the skin that’s rippling and slapping against yours. Her ass taunts you, tempts you, teases you. It’s so frustrating yet so erotic; you aren’t sure if you should welcome this mix of emotions or reject it before it folds its wings and nestles itself in your chest. The mix of desire and vexation, exasperation and ecstasy—any two emotions that shouldn’t go together are mixing, blending, forming these bubbles in your chest that you can’t explain. 

One woman; innumerable sensations.

You need more. More of everything. More of her.

You wish you could touch her.

You wish you could fuck her.

But all you can do is watch, watch as she starts going down harder, crying out even louder. 

Her body, so flawlessly feminine, is in deadly motion, working you over from the inside like you’ve never experienced. The air is filled with the wet, lewd sounds of her pussy sucking you in your hips slapping against her ass, her moans and groans, her curses that seem to go on perennially, blending in perfectly with that shitty synth in the background.

And you’re just along for the ride.

You have no idea… How good this is.. Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

And she wants you to see it, she wants you to watch her—it is exactly that kind of attention that she is basking in. So you watch. You watch her, the way she looks back at you, the way her eyes flare as she takes you in, the way her hands claw at your leg. The way she's moaning with that lilt back in her voice. Everything about this spectacle seems like it’s been scripted for some porno, and her body is certainly making you feel like you’re in one. The only grasp on reality that this situation offers is… Well, nothing. And it’s not that there really isn’t anything for you to root yourself in this real world, rather you’re choosing not to make that mental effort to do so; every little corner of your mind is being bled with whatever colour the image of Sana bouncing on your cock is. There’s no room for reality, and it's addicting, enthralling.

Fuck. You can't get enough of her, and you probably never will.

So deep! So fucking… Oh my god!

Your breath is ragged, and it takes every bit of control you have left in you to not cum right then and there. It takes every ounce of focus not to simply give in to her, not to simply melt into the couch, not to lose your mind to the sensation of her tight, wet slick as it swallows you in, pushes you out; fucking itself over and over and over again on your rock hard shaft. You don't know how much longer you can hold out for, and as if she can tell, Sana starts to move faster, her movements getting even more aggressive. The slaps of her ass against your crotch are louder now, and the wet smacking sound of her pussy's getting faster and faster. Her fingers are digging into your leg, her moans more frequent and more desperate. You can feel her tightening around you, the way her walls clamp down, the way her legs are trembling, the way her voice is going up in pitch. 

(It’s the moments of privacy that really get her going; the moments where she can scream and cuss and moan like there’s no tomorrow are everything to her. 

Yes, she likes fucking in public spaces for the thrill of it, but she likes it better when she can hold you freely as you fill her, not having to care for the fact that the way her body’s positioned engenders any discomfort or risk of being heard.

Yes, she likes it when there’s the chance that someone can walk in on the two of you, but the prospect of being able to own your cock, uninterrupted and unheard, thrills her like nothing else in the damn world.

Yes, she likes to see if she can hold in her cries while you’re rearranging her insides in a bathroom stall, but she prefers it much more when she can slam herself down on your cock—be loud and be proud of the fact that she loves every inch of meat that fills her till she can barely breathe. 

Bottom line: she likes chasing that thrill of being caught, but she loves those moments where she’s alone with you in private even more. Now is one of those times, and God… She’s barely herself anymore.

She is a storm of pure, unfiltered lust. And you must say: it’s fucking sublime.)

Then the game changing sentence comes from her, and it's beautiful. 

"I'm fucking cumming!"

The words ring out, clear and loud. And she doesn't stop; she keeps riding you, taking you into her wet hole and milking your cock, using you to bring herself off. It's not until the final second that she slows down, her back arching as she lets out the most satisfying scream that you have ever heard in your entire life. It is all that you can do to watch as she slumps forward, breaths ragged and body twitching as you hold yourself back. It takes everything—every fibre, every cell and every last bit of will—to not cum in her right there and then. And when the final spasm has passed and the shuddering has subsided, when Sana has collapsed against you, your cock still buried inside her, she turns to you.

There are no words spoken, just a mutual understanding of what comes next. She slips off the couch, takes your slick shaft in her hands. A few pumps are delivered, and they’re considerate and slow; she’s good at building tension.

“You’ve already marked my tits. Might as well cum on them.” She’s still got some cheekiness left in her, and that smile is really doing everything for you. 

“Fuck, Sana, I—” “Do it. Paint me.”

You feel the semen gather in your balls before coursing up your shaft and erupting from its tip, landing in thick, wet, warm ropes upon Sana’s creamy skin. Your tip is directed between her cleavage, and the first spurt of cum shoots itself between those wonderful mounds. It’s quickly followed by a second rope, and the third lands on her upper chest. With grace, she manages to direct your spurting cock by the base so the fourth and fifth ropes cover the front of her tits, then the rest don’t matter anymore.

The last ropes of thick, warm semen land upon her face, staining her soft, blushing features with creamy white cum. Some of it lands on her cheeks, on her forehead and onto her open mouth and the thirsty tongue within it. When you finally open eyes you hadn’t known had closed, the picture of Minatozaki Sana, face and chest painted with your warm, thick cum, is one you never want to forget. And as she scoops up your seed with her fingers, she’s got a thing or two to say.

“Excellent load,” she whispers, watching as the cum slithers down her palm. “Plus two to you.”

Just two? Is your reply of false bewilderment. Sana chortles. 

Maybe if you can give me a load up my ass, I’ll consider adding another three points.

*

Now the ring’s oddly heavy in your pocket. 

Sana’s father seems more imposing than he should for a man his size, and looking at the Yamazaki bottle on the desk, you can tell that Sana gets her liking for Whisky from him. 

“I’ve never met you in my life,” he begins, “and now you come here like a friend, asking for my daughter’s hand in marriage?”

Sana’s head is bowed. In the corner of the office she sits, hands clasped over one another as she listens in silently. No amount of trials or oral submissions could ever prepare you for this tension.

“Mr Minatozaki… I understand that all of this is sudden,” you begin, but you’re interrupted by a raised hand.

“You know boy… You sure do talk like you know everything about the situation.” His voice is nowhere near threatening as he speaks, and it’s absolutely terrifying. “For a lawyer, you sure do sound quite the fool. Guess I shouldn’t have been expecting much considering your background.”

And it’s that very statement that has you on tenterhooks. You’ve never met him, never even seen his face, yet he knows your occupation which you never even touched on, and from the sound of it, knows what went down in your family. Sana’s head snaps up, her eyes wide as she watches her father produce a file from under his desk. 

“It’s not the suddenness,” the air quotations he uses hold more weight than they really should, “that doesn’t sit well with me dear boy. No, no… It’s more than that.”

The broad leather chair in his office grows constricting. As he rises from his seat, the foam that holds your butt up seems to depress. And as he begins—if you sauntered in here as just a lawyer, I would’ve let you take my daughter in a heartbeat!—his explanation of what’s grinding his gears, you start feeling uneasy. For context on the severity of this feeling: the last time you felt like this was when you first met his daughter.

But you’re not just a lawyer—he’s opening the file in his hands, flipping through its contents—you’re a disgrace to this very world. You shouldn’t even be in this damn house right now. 

Into the file his hand reaches, and out from it: two mugshots. You bristle; Sana gasps (and it’s not that she didn’t know, rather because she was shocked that her father knew.)

So it’s the next sentence that seals your fate. Frankly, you kind of expected it, but it still doesn’t take away from the sheer bedlam that goes down in your head when Mr Minatozaki waves the mugshots of your parents before your face and shrieks at the top of his lungs. 

This isn’t the way you pictured this going. 

Honestly, you never pictured this happening at all.

 “Do you seriously think for a second that I’d let the son of two druggies—two disgraceful, repugnant, filthy, druggies—marry my daughter?”

*

It’s hard to forget what she told you over the phone after your talk with her father (if you can even call it that): we’ll figure this out. I promise you, we’ll figure this out. 

Money can get you a nice fancy Ball, some nice Whisky and a private Karaoke room. Naturally, it can grant you a means to keep the son of two convicted drug abusers that hung themselves in their cells away from your daughter. 

So not even 12 hours after that fate-sealing conversation did you get a phone call from your boss. Next thing you know, you’re uprooted from your workplace in Osaka, transferred to the branch in Nagoya; Sana’s number mysteriously changes itself, none of your letters ever reach her. 

It’s over the payphone, months after all of this, that Sana finally reaches you, and she’s ugly crying over the phone. 

We can fix this, we’ll figure something out. We’ll figure this out. I promise you, we’ll figure this out. 

In a way, she ended up being right. 

And in your suit, you smile as you watch her walk down the aisle. She’s beautiful as ever, and you feel like that white veil over her face is doing her the biggest disservice ever. The little boy carrying the wedding rings seems a little confused, but it only adds to his adorable aura as he stumbles behind Sana. The flower petals are being scattered, the crowd’s on their feet. They’re clapping; you’re crying. Have you mentioned that she looks beautiful?

Oh? You have? Odd…

But just in case it slips your mind, you tell her how beautiful she is in your head, all while she walks right past you and continues to the stage. It feels like the ring boy’s acting stupid to taunt you for being the fool here. 

In a way, she ended up being right. If “We” referred to Sana’s father and that man on the stage, “We” did indeed end up figuring things out. The invite broke you, and this wedding is breaking you even more. You know that this invite wasn’t sent by Sana—she isn’t cruel. This has the fingerprints of her father all over it: the seat close to the aisle, your wristband to authorise your access to the venue holding the same serial code as your father’s prisoner ID… All of it is him. 

But there’s not much you can do about it is there? You chose to come, you chose this for yourself. There was the option to not come, to tear the invite up and go cry in your apartment in Nagoya, but you bought the Shinkansen ticket here, didn’t you? You walked through the doors of this damn place and took your seat, didn’t you?

And the Yamazaki doesn’t taste as good as it should, and the Spring air is sharper than it should be at the afterparty. They’re over there, congratulating the newly weds and wishing them all the best; you’re over here, sipping on your neat Whisky behind a bush as the music roars on.

It really shouldn’t be a question on how she finds you; she knows you too well to know where you’d go at a place like this. And in her wedding gown, she stands where she is, this look of a god-knows-what mix of emotions simmering on her face. You rub your nose with a thumb, sip on the bitter Whisky as your remedy. No words are spoken, not even a “hey” or “how have you been”—both of you know that there’s no use in starting a conversation here. It’ll go sob, fast, and this isn’t the place for it.

There will never be a place for it.

So why not substitute words with actions? 

So in her bare feet, she hikes up her gown, runs over to you, lunges to close those years of separation between you two to hug you like she used to. The Whisky is knocked out of your hands; you’re knocked off your feet. And in the grass, she buries her head into your shoulder and weeps. 

You always thought that only death would make you cry, but now as you hold her for what may very well be the last time, you realise: you're not as tough as you think.

Like a Lemon, the realisation that comes is bitter, and it has you bawling.

Cause maybe in a world that wasn’t so cruel, you could’ve been the one on that stage.

(Then the two of you could be in love, happier than ever.)

[yearningfortheend]

//Beastzai DTIYS!

First DTIYS I've hosted and it's on my humble little beastzai rp blog. Go figure. Anyways, I'm happy to host this, even though it's my first time. With that being said, below is the information, and under the cut is the art I made for this!

Read the following carefully before participating.

Rules

No AI usage. At all. It will not be tolerated.

No tracing.

No reposting or passing this off as your own. If you participate, make sure to credit me and/or link back to this DTIYS somehow.

You can use the original art as a reference, but no tracing.

You can interpret the original art freely and do something based on that.

You can do this in any artistic medium (even writing, poetry, cosplays, etc. Anything creative goes) you would like, as long as you make it yourself. Once again, no AI should be used.

You can add text to the finished art even though the original art doesn't have it.

You don't have to be limited to a halfbody artwork; do whatever you wish and feel comfortable with. If you want to fo a fullbody, go ahead. If you can only manage a headshot, go ahead. This is open to anyone who wishes to participate.

Feel free to go crazy on the background. I didn't really want to do it, but that doesn't mean you don't have to add a background if you wish. Let inspiration guide you

You can enter more than one piece, but be reasonable about it.

How to enter your work into the DTIYS

This part is easy. There are plenty of ways to get your piece entered.

Mention this blog in your post

Tag the post with "#Beastzai DTIYS 2024"

Send in an ask with the file/link attached

DM this blog with with file/link attached

I will like the post if I've seen it. Also, I will take note of your username and the piece and put them in my drafts in a post for them so as to not lose them.

What's the deadline?

The deadline is January 21st of next year. This will be easy for me to remember, as it will end on my birthday. Let me know if you need more time though!

Are there prizes?

Yes. We can hash out the details on that if you win, but there will only be 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place. Honorable mentions will be there too, but won't receive anything like art or a story written for them, depending on what they want.

Below is the art to do in your style. Have fun! Reblogs are appreciated to get this out there to others as well.

[authorhjk1]

I’ll try my luck in requesting.. Plot is, reader asks SNSD Yoona who is his gf to dominate him femdom style.. I’d want to see kinks like pegging and well.. To be honest body worship especially armpits.. Thanks for reading and if you choose to decline it, all good.. But I really wish to a great writer’s take on this humble request of mine..

Submitting to her

(Lim Yoona X Male Reader)

This is how everyone sees her. Lim Yoona. One of the younger members and the center of Girl's Generation. Most of the time a cute, playful sunshine. But when it comes down to it, she can also be fierce and borderline sexy.

But no one will ever be able to see her, how you see her. That is something no one will ever know.

You met Yoona about a year ago for the first time. You couldn't believe she actually walked into the bar you were working at. It was a very expensive and prestigious one, yes, but you didn't really think of Yoona as big bar goer.

And you were quickly proven right. She was only there, because of one of the two friends she was with, was celebrating her engagement.

The three women were sitting at your bar the whole night, chatting away and drinking more and more of your most expensive liquor. While you were serving them and the other guests as well, the newly engaged woman seemed to have drunk too much. First, she kept on showing off her ring to Yonna and the third woman, but as the night grew longer, she also started to flirt with you.

You thought nothing of it at first, blaming it on the alcohol, but she got more and more into it. You could tell that Yonna was getting a little uncomfortable at her friend's behavior, but she didn't say a word.

"Would you mind mixing me another cocktail, babe?"

Yes, you did mind. And no you didn't like the fact she called you increasingly worse pet names. Blaming the alcohol would have been only a sorry excuse at this point. You could already tell that her future husband would probably catch her cheating at one point. It was so clear it could've been written on her forehead.

Eventually, her and Yoona's other friend went to the bathroom. The rude woman definitely drank too much. And while you were wiping parts of the black granite surface of the counter, you were hoping she wouldn't completely ruin the ladies' room.

You heard Yoona groan, after she took the last sip of her cocktail.

"Would you like a refill, Miss?"

To your surprise, Yoona suddenly glared at you.

"Oh, please, lover boy. Don't pretend like you would say no, if she asked you to spend the night with her."

You felt that was a little out of the blue. But the alcohol and her being annoyed by her friend, probably made her search for some kind of release.

"I would say no."

You would never sleep with another man's girlfriend, wife or whatever.

"Really? Why wouldn't you, huh?"

You suddenly felt trapped. Was that a trick question? Did she want you to mess up, so she could let out all her pend up frustration on you?

"Never mind, I'm sorry."

Yoona cut you off, before you could answer.

"It's just... I'm always too busy, you know? Barely free time, no time for dating, or a boyfriend and especially no time for a husband."

"Another cocktail it is, then."

Yoona chuckled as you started to mix the same cocktail she had before.

"You're really good at that, you know?"

"I hope so, I've been doing this for years."

As you added your finishing touches, Yoona let out another sigh.

"You are still young, so take some advice from me. Make sure you find the right person to be with. Don't wait as long as I have."

"I'm sure there are a lot of good men out there, who would like to go on a date with you, despite your busy schedule."

Since the granite surface was a little bigger, you let her new glass slide over the stone. It came to a hold just in front of her. You leaned over the counter and reached behind her ear.

Yoona slightly backed away, but you pulled back already, holding a small cocktail umbrella in your hand.

"Myself included, of course."

You blew on the umbrella, opening it up, before you let it fall into the drink.

You usually weren't that straight forward with guests. But this wasn't a usual guest. This was Yoona.

"That was smooth."

She playfully wiggled her eyebrows as she acknowledged your skill.

"Like I said, years of work and experience. Once I start something, I only finish once I perfected it."

"I like the sound of that."

Her smile was warm, but at the same time a little seductive. Her eyes sparkling with amusement, but also looking at you as if she was searching for something.

You later asked about that moment.

"I liked you. You looked handsome. And I wanted something she couldn't have."

That was her answer. Almost the perfect way to describe the start of your relationship.

"Although I don't have a man, I do have needs. I don't have enough time to date, but I can definitely make just enough time to take care of those needs."

You were surprised at how hopen she suddenly talked about herself. You were still in a public place.

"I could use someone like you. Dedicated to a task. Not stopping until he is satisfied. I would repay you of course. How much money do you make?"

While you were standing there, totally bamboozled by her sudden offer, you realize you could've seen that coming. Yoona is lonely, doesn't have time for a proper relationship and has more than enough money to find herself a sugar baby.

And for some reason, you did like the sound of that. Her terms were clear. Wherever and whenever she wanted, you would do your best to worship her entire body, make her feel good. But for that, you would have to quit your job.

"Don't worry. I will pay for everything you need."

While you were still debating on saying yes or no, her friends came back. They were eventually done drinking and were about to go home.

Yoona gave you one last look.

Decide right now, or you will regret it for the rest of your life.

You quickly wrote your number on a napkin and gave it to her.

The dynamic in your relationship was clear from the get go. Yoona was literally your sugar mommy and paid for everything, while you were tasked with pleasuring her better than anyone had ever before. Outside of the bedroom, she was the dominant one, but when it was about sex, you were the one who took care of her.

After staying at her place a couple of times, you, unconsciously, slowly started to move in with her. It started with a toothbrush and it ended with your computer and desk in her guest room. Not that Yonna minded at all. The living together and sleeping together, made it impossible to not start developing feelings. And finally, after ten months of sex with no strings attached, you both agreed on your new status of your relationship.

"10 Minute break in twenty minutes. Need you."

A simple text from your now girlfriend and you are on your way.

You enter the SM building slowly after, making your way to one of the smaller rooms on the third floor. As soon as you walk in, Yoona crashes into you. You haven't seen her since this morning. She looks just as good as she did then.

As soon as you saw her outfit this morning, you knew this is gonna be one of those days. She doesn't have them often. But on those days, she sometimes shows you a side of her no one can know about.

Most of the time, the power during sex is equally distributed. Sometimes it's Yoona, who leads, sometimes it's you. But most of the time, the two of you are equals. Yoona isn't the kind of woman who loves to get fucked like a cheap whore. She does enjoy you, being a little rougher with her at times, but never something too crazy.

And on rare occasions, just like today, you can see a fire burn inside of her. A fire that makes her lust and arousal grow immensely. Until now, she always had herself under control. But you do know, that if her self control breaks, you will be the one who will have to bear the consequences.

"Oh, fuck. I need your tongue so bad."

She whispers into your ear, after just having kissed the life out of you.

You lean down and push her hair behind her shoulders, before you start to kiss her naked skin. Yoona loves how you take care of her. How you worship her. To say that she has a praise kink is an understatement. More like goddess kink.

"You taste perfect, mommy."

Yoona purrs, at your words, letting out a satisfied sigh. Yeah, one of those days. You know you are doomed tonight, if you can't satisfy her well enough right now.

And at the same time, you don't mind at all. You actually welcome the idea of Yoona punishing you for doing a bad job. You want to find out what happens, when that fire inside her does take over her being. You are just not sure yet, if you can handle it.

Once you have dutifully peppered her shoulders with endless kisses, you pick her up and carry her towards the window.

"Oh, yes. I'm craving that. Oh, baby I'm so thirsty for your touch."

Yoona always turns into a mess, whenever you start to worship her like this. She loves it. And you do too.

After putting her down on the windowsill, you quickly start to take off her belt. This is just the right height for what you have in mind. Once her suit pants are around her ankles, you reach into her panties. The black lace traps your hand, forcing you towards her pussy.

"That's it, baby. Be a good boy."

Yoona moans in delight as she feels you pushing a finger inside of her. You lick your lips as you see her closing her eyes, ready to bring the second half of your plan to life.

While your left is slowly fingering her wet pussy, your right hand is now reaching for her wrists. Already knowing what you have in mind, Yoona gladly raises her arms. Standing next to her, you are greeted with the magnificent sight of her left armpit.

The slight sweat on her skin sparkles in the sunlight from outside. You unconsciously take a deep breath, enjoying Yoona's scent. After you spend hours after hours worshiping her entire body, you know how she tastes everywhere and how she smells too. Usually sweet, with a hint of sweat, because it's a hot day.

After taking another breath and pushing a second finger inside of her, you stick out your tongue and place it right underneath her armpit. Yoona lets out a deep moan. This combination has always made her cum pretty quick. And you have limited time right now.

The slight salty taste hits your taste buds as you use one long lick to move your tongue across her armpit.

"That's it, baby. Lick your mommy clean."

Yoona moans out loud as she feels your tongue now delivering longs swipes across her armpit. Your fingers in her pussy aren't idle and soon, Yoona succumbs to the pleasure you force onto her.

It takes you a minute or two to complete lick her armpit free of her sweat and just a little longer to reward yourself. The more you can have of her, the better. Yoona's sweat is now replaced by a small amount of your spit.

You change position as you keep your fingers inside her, your thumb now rubbing her clit.

"Hurry, baby. If you don't make me cum..."

Her whispered threat is interrupted by your tongue, finally reaching her armpit on the other side. The saltiness seems to be a little bit more prominent on this side. You gladly lick it all up, while Yoona starts to buck her hips against your hand.

"Damn it!"

She sighs heavier as her breathing becomes faster.

"Make me cum already."

Her heightened arousal makes her a little more aggressive today.

You keep on licking her skin and fingering her pussy. You know that she is slowly getting there. Maybe a couple of licks more. Or maybe a third finger...

"Yoona?"

You stop immediately as you hear someone outside the room. Yoona holds her shakey breath.

"Y-Yeah?"

"We have to get going now."

"Give me a minute, manager-nim!"

Yoona quickly urges you to pull your fingers out of her. As if you wouldn't have thought of that yourself.

"This isn't over."

She looks up at you with that fire in her eyes, once she is done making herself look presentable.

"As soon as I'm home..."

She let's that threat linger in the air as she walks out of the room. Yes, this is one of those days. But today seems more intense than usual. You wonder, if you asked for it, would Yoona let that raging fire consume her? Would she let go off her primal instinct and use your body for her pleasure, without thinking about you?

A shiver of anticipation runs down your spine. What do you have to do to make that happen?

You know that Yoona will be busy for the rest of the day. You're sure she mentioned something about a magazine cover photoshoot, but you can't remember. Her schedule is stuffed with way too much events and appointments for you to know all of them.

And that's why she catches you by surprise, when she suddenly crashes through the door to her apartment.

"I have ten minutes."

It looks like she is on a break again. And it seems she came straight from the photoshoot. She is still wearing that outfit.

And you can tell by the fact, that she only came here for sex, that she is close to breaking.

You try to get off the couch you are lying on, but Yoona is quicker. The advantage of her skirt is, that she can just sit down on your face, without having to undress.

Barely ten seconds after she came home and your tongue is already buried inside her wet pussy. Yoona quickly holds onto your hair with both hands. Too impatient for you to find the proper rhythm, she just starts to ride your face. You have no choice but to lie there, enjoying the taste of Yoona's sweet pussy.

A minute passes. Then two. Then three. You do your best, trying to get her off as quick as possible. But that small voice at the back of your head starts to talk. What if...

Yoona breathes heavily and leans forward, trying to catch her breath, as she realizes that this isn't enough. Not enough for her to orgasm. Not enough for her to satisfy her hunger.

She quickly gets off your face, leaving you with trails of her juices all over it. Before you can react, your pants are already off. And a second later, Yoona has already straddled you, her pussy hovering above your cock.

"Oh, damn. That cock."

She sighs, her eyes closing in bliss as she impales herself on your cock. Without even thinking about it, one of her hands move towards your throat. She keeps riding you, her pleasure now increasing by the second. After almost getting caught earlier today, she really needs to find that high right now.

"M-Mommy."

She hears you coughing after calling her. Her eyes shoot open and she realizes that she has been choking you. Yoona quickly moves her hand away, an apologetic look in her eyes. She has never done that before. She never let herself go that far.

"Babe..."

She wants to say sorry, wants to apologize. And yet, a small part of her mind tells her to put her hand back on your throat. To make you cough, while she rides you like a dildo, not giving a damn about your well-being.

It scares Yoona for a moment. Those thoughts. But she can also see that you seem to know, what's going on inside of her.

Her eyes grow wide as you slowly start to nod your head.

No need for words. Yoona takes a deep breath, before she puts her hands back on your throat. For the first time, she starts to let go of herself.

You lie on the couch with wide open eyes. Yoona left barely a minute ago. It's hard for you to get up. You didn't expect her to go that hard. She rode you like her life depended on it. You were barely able to take it yourself, her pace and power were almost too much for you. Reaching for your throat, you grimace in pain. It's not that bad, but you don't need a mirror to know that that's gonna leave bruises.

You are glad you were able to cum, just in time, before Yoona came herself. You wonder if she would've cared about your orgasm at that point. Maybe not. But that thought alone almost makes you reach for your cock, which is still wet with her juices.

The rest of your day goes by without anything major happening. You are excited about what is gonna happen tonight. Despite having climaxed earlier, Yoona still didn't look very satisfied.

Trying to make time go by faster, you sit down in front of your computer, planing on gaming a little, until she comes home.

"Turn it off."

You almost have a heart attack, when you suddenly hear Yoona's voice. You didn't hear her come home.

"H-Hi, babe."

Her tone made it clear, that this day is still not over. The only question is, how rough Yoona is going to be with you.

Once you turn off the computer and look at her properly, you know what kind of sex she has in mind. She is now wearing a different outfit. Probably another one from her photoshoot.

"You look gorgeous."

You can tell she is holding in a smile as she leans down, to be at your eye level.

"I've had a long day..."

You get the hint as you stand up, just to walk her over towards the bed. Knowing you have the rest of the night, you start slowly. First, her hands. You kiss each of her knuckles and the back of her hands. She sighs, as Yoona lies on the bed, enjoying your work.

You soon move upwards, switching from one arm to the other, while you pepper her skin with kisses. It's smoothness takes your breath away every time. How can she be this beautiful?

Reaching her shoulders, you take a short trip to her collarbone, licking along it's length, before returning to her shoulders. Yoona lets out a satisfied hum. But you know that, at least today, this won't satisfy her enough. You move her arms away from her body a little, giving you access to her pits.

"Baby. I need to fuck you."

Yoona sighs, her first words since she told you to take care of her.

You know what she means by that. The fire in her eyes still there. As you dive in, licking her right armpit, you know that she is thinking about something far different from just riding you, like she did earlier today.

Yoona's fire urges her on to take control. To take you. To make you hers. And there's only one way you will truly be hers.

Yoona shifts around a little, while you keep worshipping her body. Once you're finished with licking her armpit clean, you kiss along her collarbone towards the other one, before diving in again.

Her hand finds itself in your hair as she lets out a heavier sigh.

"I need to-to take you. Now."

You realize that Yoona is approaching her breaking point. Should you push further? Ignore her real needs for just a couple of moments longer?

You eventually decide to be forward.

"You can do what you want with me, mommy."

You kiss her armpit one last time, before looking up at her face.

"Please. Be as rough as you want."

This is the only way for her to be happy today. To be satisfied. And you are more than willing to help.

"A-Are you sure?"

You nod your head yes.

"Do with me what you want."

You can see that dangerous fire flicker in her eyes. Yoona's inner voices are fighting each other. Eventually, she pushes you off of her, before she jumps off the bed. You watch her walk towards the big closet. Once she opens it, you can see what's lying on the middle shelf.

Four dildos, lined up and sorted by length. A belt, to make a strap on out of one of them, on their right. You gulp, knowing that there is no turning back now.

It's not like this your first time. Usually, at least one of you is in the mood for it. And you are the one, who decides which one gets used, before you start.

But you are very aware that Yoona is already using the one on the right. She put it on the belt already and is now tying it around her waist. The biggest one.

Her black outfit seems to fit the blue plastic perfectly. You don't choose that one very often. But now you know Yoona's true thoughts. The others aren't big enough for her taste.

"Strip."

She says, before even having turned around.

You hesitate for a moment. It's not that you don't trust her. It's the fact that you don't trust that fire within her. How far will she go...

Yoona's movement quickly makes you jump into action. As she turns around, you're just getting rid off your pants. She steps towards the edge of the bed as you take your shirt off.

Without a word, Yoona stares at you, lust burning in her eyes. She does a come hither motion with a finger, making you crawl towards her.

"Suck my cock, baby. If you don't want to get hurt..."

Yoona only used lube at the beginning. But after having tried this a couple of times, she started to make you suck the dildo first, before pegging you. Your own spit being the lubricant. That should've been a sign that something like this would come sooner rather than later. A sign you should've read.

You look up at Yoona as you open your mouth. Her fiery gaze stares back at you. You can't tell how rough she is going to be exactly. Should you be using a safe word?

But as Yoona pushes her hips forward, the blue dildo pushing past your lips, you realize that the time for setting a safe word has long past. You feel the plastic in your mouth, the unforgiving material dragging along your tongue. Yoona places her hand on the back of your head, holding you in place as she forces you to take it all at once. The tip slightly grazes the back of your throat, once your lips reach the base.

"Look up."

You do as your told. Yoona stares down at you, her face cold, while her eyes are burning. You catch her biting her lip slightly, before she moves her hips back. A moment later, she pushes them forward again. She starts to pick up the pace soon after, letting her other hand wander towards the back of your head as well.

Yoona is now fucking your face. Not as hard and fast as you occasionally do with her, but enough for you to cough once in a while. Due to her constant thrusts, the blue plastic is eventually covered in your saliva. Some of the liquid is already staining your lips and chin.

"What a good boy you are, sucking mommy's cock."

Up until now, you had both of your hands placed on the mattress, supporting your weight. Now, knowing how horny Yoona is, you reach forward with one hand. Since she is wearing a one piece, it was hard for you worship her whole body just now. So you try to make up for it by placing your hand between her thighs.

"That's right, baby. Mommy comes first."

Yoona slows down a little to make it easier for you to rub her pussy through the black fabric. Whenever you send really big jolts of pleasure through her body, Yoona thrusts forward uncontrollably. And soon, she is fucking your mouth again, while you try to pleasure her.

"Press harder."

You follow her orders, applying more pressure on her pussy.

"Fuck, yes!"

Yoona hisses loudly at the sudden increase of pleasure. Her hips move as fast as your hand, the two of you in a silent competition on who can go the fastest. It doesn't take long for Yoona to win as she forced herself inside of you exceptionally deep, making you gag and lose control of her your hand.

"Turn around."

She tells you, while you still recover from her sudden attack.

Once you do, you feel Yoona climb on the bed as well, kneeling behind you.

"If you are going to be a good boy and take it well"

Yoona leans over you slightly, the wet plastic pressing against your ass cheeks. It sends a shiver down your spine as you know very well what's next.

"I will reward you by letting you lick and kiss every single part of me."

It's an offer you can't refuse. For one, because you would do anything to get that opportunity. And two, because you are literally unable to refuse. Even if you would try, Yoona would just laugh at you.

You feel the dildo poke your butt hole as Yoona readies herself. She lets her hands wander over your cheeks, before she reaches underneath you. A moment later, her hand holds your cock, slowly stroking it.

"Don't cum too early, baby. Last time, you made a mess of yourself while cuming."

One would think that Yoona is just being considerate. But her tone says otherwise. It drips with her lust and you can tell that that's exactly what she wants. For you to lose control over your body as you cum.

Finally, Yoona slowly pushes forward. You breath a little heavier as you try to adjust to the new feeling.

"Relax, or this is gonna hurt."

Usually, Yoona would stop if you had trouble taking it and speak some encouraging words.

Not this time. Instead of waiting, she pushes the plastic tip past the ring of your muscles. You hold onto the sheets as Yoona slowly pulls you towards her, while she moves forward.

More and more of her length you take. Inch by inch, the blue dildo stretches your ass.

"Oh fuck, baby. Your ass looks so tight."

One of her hands squeezes your cheeks, while the other keeps stroking your cock. You grit your teeth as Yoona pushes further. Having taken this dildo a couple of times already, you can tell that you're halfway there. You feel every new inch drag past your muscles.

You feel fuller than before as Yoona keeps going. She doesn't stop, until you've finally taken it all.

"Good boy, taking all of mommy's cock."

Yoona whispers sweet nothings into your ear. You know that this only the calm before the storm.

Without asking if you are ready, which she would usually do, Yoona starts to pull out of you. Your hole clamps down on the plastic, not wanting it to leave your body. Just when only the tip remains inside, Yoona pushes forward again. She does this very slowly a couple of times, before she starts to pick up the pace.

It hurts a little as she becomes faster, but you don't complain. You can take it and you don't want to get on her bad side.

"Oh, damn. You're so hard already."

The whole time, Yoona has kept stroking your cock. She removes her hand for a moment and you hear her spit on it. Her now wet hand goes back to working your cock, while the plastic cock in your ass keeps moving back and forth.

Just as you are getting adjusted to the current pace, Yoona starts to fuck you faster. Some thrust leaves you breathless as she pushes your face into the mattress with her power.

"Mommy..."

You don't dare ask her to stop, but you need to warn her. You feel like you are losing control. Your thighs start to shake, your cock twitching a little.

"Not, yet."

You can tell she is gritting her teeth as she fucks you from behind. Both her hands are now on your ass as she keeps up the pace. Soon, she is pounding away with no regard for your comfort. The plastic inside of you drags along your inner walls and keeps splitting you open.

"Mommy..."

It seems that is the only word that you can force off your lips. As she takes your ass, you can tell that Yoona is really enjoying herself. Her nails are slightly digging into your flesh as she holds a tight grip on you. Apart from her breathing, which is now a little faster, you can hear her deep moans and an occasional grunt.

"Mommy, I think I'm gonna-"

You suddenly have a mouthful of the mattress. Yoona has pushed your head down to shut you up, ignoring your warnings that you're about to cum.

You can't help it. The plastic dildo in your ass keeps dragging along your inner walls as Yoona fucks you hard. You hiss, feeling slight pain, as she bottoms out inside of you.

You want to warn her again. Tell her you're about to cum on the sheets. But your words are muffled by the mattress, while Yoona keeps fucking you further into it.

"Don't cum too early, baby."

She mocks you, her hand finding it's way to your cock again. She squeezes it slightly while she strokes you faster and faster. Timed with her thrusts, her handjob pushes you further towards your climax.

Because you can't talk, you can do nothing but take Yoona's cock in silence. You feel your back arch as Yoona pushes your head even further into the mattress. It enables her to drive herself even deeper into you.

That's the final push you needed. You let out a deep moan as you climax immediately. Yoona's dildo feels even bigger now, her hand drains you of all of your cum. You can tell you've ruined the sheets, without even having to look.

"You've taken mommy's cock so well, baby."

Yoona leans down to kiss your cheek. For the first time today, she seems to genuinely care for you.

"Time for your reward."

You lift your head, once Yoona has removed her hand. You fall to the side, still breathing a little heavily.

Yoona uses your small break to untie the belt, before tossing it off the bed. She straddles you and leans over you with an expectant look.

You move your head upwards to lap at her armpits, cleaning her off the sweat that had just build up over the last couple of minutes.

"Get your tongue in there, yes!"

Yoona sighs in delight. You let your hands wander over her clothed back, trying to find the zipper. Once you do, you slowly reveal what's been hiding underneath her one piece.

You move from her armpits, over her collarbone, towards her chest. You suck on Yoona's nipples, once your reach them. She moans out loud. Her tits are quite sensitive, especially while you dedicate yourself to worshipping her body.

More and more of her skin gets covered in kisses, until you've been everywhere at least once.

"Make me cum, baby."

Yoona quickly strips off her entire one piece, now leaning over you completely naked. The sight makes you hard again already. She quickly lowers herself onto your cock. Just like earlier, she doesn't wait for you to adjust yourself. She quickly picks up the pace, using your cock like a dildo.

"Use your tongue, damn it."

She groans as you stop for a couple of seconds, because you are too captivated by her beauty.

While she rides you, you keep your tongue on the skin of her upper body. You make sure you don't miss a spot. Her tight midriff, her chest, her collarbone, her shoulders, her pits. All deserve equal attention as you do your best to reach each spot.

Eventually, the combination of your cock inside of her and your tongue all over her pleasure her too much, Yoona finally orgasms on top of you. Her body shakes as she rides out her high.

Once she comes down, you are surprised by feeling her getting off of you.

"Mommy-?"

You'd hoped she would allow you to stay inside her longer. Maybe even cum in her.

"You are not done yet."

Yuna turns around and lies on her stomach on top of you. She purposefully puts her feet in the direction of your face. You feel her lips wrap around your cock, while you dart your tongue out to get your first taste of her feet today.

As you shift around a little, you can tell that your going to be sore tomorrow. But it won't be too bad. Because once she woke up, Yoona will be the beautiful sunshine she usually is. You wonder how long it's gonna take until her next rampage.

------------

Hi, everyone.

This is the first time I tried writing kinks like armpits and pegging, so the quality might not be as good as you expected. But I hope you were still enjoying reading it.

Stay healthy!

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚🎀・₊✧ 𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘆 . . . 𝗼𝗿 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝗵𝗲? ♡₊˚🎀・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ read part one first

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 nanami forgot your birthday but he's got something special planned 𖥔 ceo x baker 𖥔 grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 she talks a lot x he listens a lot 𖥔 cold shoulder treatment 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sfw 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 super soft nanami 𖥔 close proximity

: ̗̀➛ words: 4.1 k

: ̗̀➛ notes: we're back again with fluffy nanami. honestly i shed a tear writing this one because it's just so adjfskdf. if you haven't read part one, go DO IT. RIGHT NOW. if you enjoy my work, please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy!

It's been a year since you took that leap, moving in with Nanami. Every day spent in each other's company feels like a fresh chapter, and the magic of your relationship persists as if it were the very first night.

Nanami, with his gentle smile and warm eyes, never tires of recounting the story from his perspective. Each time you ask, he patiently agrees to retell it, even though you've long since memorized every detail. The familiarity of his narrative only adds to the charm, as if reliving those moments helps both of you cherish the journey that brought you together.

“You invited a couple of my colleagues to your bakery's opening, and they brought back leftover cookies and pastries to the office. I grabbed some, and with the first bite, I knew your bakery was going to be my favorite. So, I asked Gojo to drive me to your city, not knowing it was going to rain that night. With no parking nearby, I ended up walking. Halfway through, it started pouring. Luckily, I made it just in time, and there you were, smiling like the sun that was supposed to be in the sky. You offered me free food and shelter, and right then, darling, I fell in love with you. It was the most incredible feeling in the world.”

Each time he finishes his heartwarming story, you can't help but be overwhelmed with emotion. Without hesitation, you jump on him with a flurry of kisses, showering him with all the love you harbor for your sweet, stoic boyfriend.

You've shared every conscious moment together since then. With Nanami now working remotely, he'd set up at one of the dining tables in your bakery, delving into meetings and paperwork. You'd plant kisses on his cheek or embrace him from behind, providing a boost of energy. Delivering his special casse-croûte and milk coffee, you occasionally found yourself feeding him as his busy hands typed away. Breaks led to stolen moments in the back room, where you'd make out like teenagers.

Once at home, you'd strip out of your clothes, shower or bathe together, and engage in domestic activities like watching television or attempting to nap, but those often evolved into extended sessions of sex.

Today, silence lingered between you two following a heated argument the previous night.

Unbeknownst to Nanami, your birthday was just around the corner, yet he had scheduled a business trip on that very day. Despite the depth of his knowledge about your past, from childhood playground scars to the dresses you wore for school dances, he seemed oblivious to the significance of the impending date.

In a seemingly nonchalant manner, Nanami had mentioned, “Darling, I'll be away on a business trip from the sixth and will return on the eighth. We can plan a picnic or head to the beach—whatever you prefer.”

“The sixth?” You had to set your utensils down, turning to face him. Your meals were typically enjoyed on the carpet, with plates on the coffee table and your favorite movies playing on the television. “You have a business trip? On the sixth?”

“Yes, that's correct.”

“Kento, what the hell? Why?”

He arched an eyebrow. “It's my job, darling. That's why. It's been on my agenda for a month. Missing it would mean losing out on a lucrative deal."

“But—” You caught yourself mid-sentence.

At that moment, you wished you could shout that it was your first-ever birthday celebration since your parents’ passing.

His birthday had been just two days prior, and you had gone all out—decorating the apartment, baking a cake, preparing a feast of his favorite dishes, buying him new cufflinks, and giving him the blowjob of the century as the cherry on top. It had become one of your cherished days together, an occasion you had been planning for weeks.

“But?” Nanami prodded.

You clenched your jaw. “But it's... you know. It's.”

“What's going on?” he asked, genuinely befuddled. “Did I miss something?”

Your lips quivered, and in an attempt to silence them, you stuffed a dumpling into your mouth, shaking your head. “Never mind.”

“Please, talk to me.”

Ignoring his plea, you continued shaking your head as he gently pulled at your shoulder to make you face him. Tears welled up in your eyes, streaming down your flushed cheeks. Even swallowing the dumpling felt like a struggle amid the surge of complaints in your throat.

“Darling—”

“Just forget it, Nanami.” You wiped your cheeks, your open hair concealing one side of your face. “You already have,” you whispered to yourself.

“Fine,” Nanami replied, casually returning to his food. It wouldn't have been a big deal if you had just mentioned your birthday, but it stung. He should know. After all, he's Nanami—meticulous with schedules, mindful of important dates, and impeccable with time management. Why doesn't he know?

“Are you joking?” you exclaimed, grabbing the remote from his grasp and turning off the movie. “That's all you have to say? ‘Fine’?”

“You told me to forget about it.”

“Yeah, I did. But that doesn't mean you actually forget.”

“I don't get it.”

“Of course you don't.”

He sighed, and you berated yourself for being so obstinate. You resented that sigh, as it made you feel like a nuisance. Yet, it was a warranted sigh, so you let it slide. “Are you upset?”

“What?”

“You are. I can't believe you're upset.” Running your fingers through your hair, you picked up your plate. “I'm going to bed before I say something stupid. Goodnight. Enjoy your trip.”

“Y/N—”

“Goodnight.”

“My love, what’s bothering you?” he asked from the living room while you dumped your dish in the sink. “Would you please just talk to me? Have I said something to offend you?” 

You walked off toward your bedroom, into your bathroom, and locked the door. Turning on the shower, you sat down on the floor, holding your knees and crying in the gap between. 

You've been ignoring Nanami ever since you woke up nestled against his chest—your body was naturally attuned to his. But since then, you've been withdrawn and moody, casting a shadow over your usual sunny demeanor. Even some of your regular customers have noticed and asked if you were unwell, but you brushed it off with a forced smile and a minor headache excuse. As you were wiping down tables, Nanami entered during lunchtime. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, then retreated behind the counter, placing his coffee cup and sandwich a bit too forcefully.

“Thank you, darling,” he said, accepting it. “Would you like to join—” 

“That'll be ten-fifty,” you interrupted, fingers already inputting the amount without meeting his gaze. You’ve never once charged him since you started dating; everything he desired was on the house because he was your favorite regular and person. You loved him so much that you even experimented in baking his beloved pastries and added them to the menu. Yet, he forgot your birthday.

Nanami retrieved the exact change from his wallet and extended it to you. Your hand snatched it, guilt gnawing at you instantly. Pretending to open the cash register, you discreetly slipped the money into your apron instead.

“Would you like to join me?” he asked once more.

You slammed the cash drawer shut and swiftly turned, heading to the inventory room to immerse yourself in organizing as a distraction.

As Nanami waited outside, thumbs dancing over his phone’s keyboard, you couldn't help but notice his sudden shift in demeanor when you approached. Your mind raced with suspicions of infidelity, but rationality reminded you of his busy schedule now that he wasn't in the office regularly. He was too devoted to you to entertain such thoughts.

Nanami reached out his hand, but you brushed past him, burying your hands in your cardigan. Determined to celebrate your birthday, albeit alone, you headed to the nearest supermarket for groceries. You planned to indulge in your favorite pasta dish, bake fudge brownies, and allow yourself to feel whatever emotions came, whether tears of joy or sadness. Today, you'd celebrate yourself. Happy birthday to you.

Nanami followed you into the supermarket, walking beside you as he added both your and his favorite snacks to the cart. You were determined to make him pay for it all, although you knew he would insist on covering the expenses regardless. Throughout the year you had been together, Nanami never once allowed you to spend your own money. Even during online shopping, he always managed to intercept, distracting you with neck kisses until you surrendered to using his card.

You couldn't help but pout and shoot him a sidelong glance as he meticulously examined the ingredients on a bag of chips. Your gaze then shifted to the cake mix and icing packets, giving you an idea. Bingo. 

If you weren't going to outright mention your upcoming birthday, you could at least drop a hint.

Clearing your throat, you grabbed a chocolate-vanilla mix with caramel icing and deposited it into the cart. Nanami observed the entire exchange, briefly meeting your gaze with a neutral expression before returning to scrutinizing the ingredients as though they were sacred text.

Damn him! 

“Excuse me, sir?” you called, drawing an innocent elderly employee into your scheme. “It's my friend's birthday tomorrow, and I'm torn between which cake mix to choose. Could you help me out?”

As Nanami switched to a different chip bag, your frustration simmered, but the employee weighed his options, eventually settling on chocolate-vanilla. Grateful, you thanked him and strode away, the cart trailing behind.

Nanami handled the grocery payment and bagging while you observed with arms crossed.

Back at home, you kicked off your shoes, discarded your cardigan on the floor, and trudged wearily to your bedroom. The sounds of the fridge and cabinets being stocked echoed as you sprawled out like a starfish.

“Is he pretending?” you mumbled to yourself. “He must be, right? He couldn't have forgotten my birthday. No way.”

Quickly, you took your phone, dialing Satoru, his assistant. The call forwarded instantly, but his response, received a minute later, left you irritated beyond measure.

Satoru: Sorry, Y/N. Can’t take your call. Packing for a business trip tomorrow. We’re going to Thailand. Will get you a souvenir! 

Feeling frustrated, you left him on read and flopped onto your stomach, letting out a scream into the pillow. 

Skipping dinner with Nanami, you stayed curled up in bed instead. Despite his attempts to comfort you, kissing your cheeks and tucking you in, you couldn't shake the ache in your heart as you heard him packing in the closet, trying to hide your tears. 

It was well past midnight when you finally stirred awake. 

Glancing over your shoulder, you found Nanami meters away from you. The realization hit you hard: he had genuinely forgotten your birthday. A mountain settled on your chest as you watched him sleep peacefully, unaware of his oversight. He didn't reach out to hold you close or pull you into his embrace; instead, he slept facing away from you.

You wiped away the tears from your tired eyes, then got up and took your pillows to the living room, hoping to find some sleep on the couch. Instead, you found yourself captivated by the sight of the sunrise.

Meanwhile, Nanami seemed unusually relaxed as he prepared for his business trip, taking his time with his morning routine. He took his time showering, shaving, and ironing his clothes—tasks that you usually handled. He adorned himself with the cuff links you gave him for his birthday and wore the cologne from your six-month anniversary. It stung a bit, realizing how diligent you were in remembering special dates while he seemed to forget them so easily.

But you shrugged it off. 

Today was your birthday, and you were determined to make it special, even if you had to celebrate alone. Your customers were already aware that you'd be closed for the day, giving you the entire day and night, plus tomorrow, to yourself. Previous birthdays had been spent in isolation since your parents passed away. This one was supposed to be different because you had Nanami, yet he seemed to overlook its significance.

As you washed your breakfast dishes, disappointment bubbled up inside you, causing you to grip the sponge tightly. Deciding to put off the chore, you washed your hands and turned your attention to baking a cake for yourself.

Nanami sauntered into the kitchen, nonchalantly lugging three hefty suitcases. Why the hell did he need three massive suitcases? Your boyfriend had become a complete mystery to you. You scowled as he tapped away on his phone, the urge to grab it and fling it off the balcony almost irresistible. What luxury could those three suitcases possibly hold? Perhaps new dresses, shoes, or jewelry for whoever was receiving his relentless texts. With his poker-face, it was impossible to tell if it was a woman on the other end.

“Kento.” 

Nanami's head jerked up. “Yes, dar—”

“It's my birthday today,” you finally admitted. Enough was enough. You needed him to know and feel miserable for forgetting it while he was on this supposed business trip. You knew it wasn't merely business. He always took you along on such trips. Business trip, my ass. It was clear he was having an affair. “It's my birthday today, Kento.”

His mouth opened to respond, but the ringing phone interrupted him. 

You scoffed at the timing of it all, abandoning the cake mixture in the pan. “Have a safe trip.” You walked past him, slamming the bedroom door shut, and collapsed under the covers, sobbing.

Something chimed persistently in the background, prodding at your temples like a sharp stick, urging you to wake up. 

You fumbled around on the mattress, locating your vibrating phone and swiping right, still half-asleep. 

“Hello?” you croaked out.

“Oh, thank God!” panted Gojo's voice. “There's an emergency with Nanami, Y/N!”

“What?” You shot up in bed, immediately springing into action.

“We were headed to the airport when he suddenly fell ill and started vomiting!” You listened intently as you hurriedly searched through your closet for your cardigan. “I brought him to your bakery since it was closer.” Nanami did have a spare key to your bakery for emergencies. “He's really not doing well, Y/N. Please come as quickly as you can.”

“I'm on my way, Satoru! Thanks for letting me know. I'll be there in a flash. Keep comforting him and try making him some green tea if possible. I can't find anything—Where did all my clothes go?” You shuffled his suits aside and rummaged through your drawers, finding only a few undergarments but nothing else. “Damn it. Alright, I'll be there soon.”

“Of course. See you soon!”

You pushed aside all distractions and focused solely on Nanami, hastily grabbing your bathrobe to cover your shorts and tank top. Rushing to the elevator, you repeatedly pressed the lobby button, feeling your body tremble with anxiety. Your chin quivered as you bit down on your bottom lip, overwhelmed by guilt. Nanami wasn’t prone to sickness as much as you were, but your cold shoulder must’ve given him a cold. The thought made you despise yourself even more, tears streaming down your face as you hurried along the sidewalk, navigating past cyclists and ignoring the curious stares of passersby.

You entered your bakery, the door pushing open with a jingle. “Kento! Ken—”

Your words halted.

The space was decorated with a multitude of lit candles, casting a warm glow over every surface - the counter, tables, chairs, and bare shelves. A three-tiered vanilla chocolate cake adorned with “Happy Birthday Y/N” in elegant script stood proudly on a table. A trail of fresh rose petals led to a solitary chair facing a makeshift projector screen fashioned from a white bed sheet. On the screen, a paused video titled “Life In Her Eyes” awaited.

With cautious steps, you approached the lone chair, scanning the bakery for any signs of activity but finding none. Nervously, you moistened your lips and reached for the small remote with a note reading “Play me,” before settling into the seat.

With a trembling hand, you pressed play on the three-minute video.

“This is my beautiful girlfriend, Y/N,”  Nanami's voice narrated in the video, overlaying a scene where you filmed your boyfriend tossing pebbles into the ocean. “She loves to record every single moment we spent together.” The scene shifted to you capturing Nanami's reaction to Alice Vision in Breaking Dawn Part Two. “She loves feeding me if I’m busy working.” A moment captured where you sat on his lap, sharing a pastry and planting a kiss on his cheek. “She loves sunrises and sunsets.” Your camera focused on Nanami's back against the colorful sky. “She insists I hold every stray cat because apparently, an attractive man with a pet drives her wild." Nanami's expression remained composed as he gently stroked the purring white Siamese. 

“It’s the truth,” you muttered, using your arm to wipe away the tears and mucus from your runny nose. 

“Y/N loves collecting miniature figurines, plush toys, and vintage trinkets.” In a solo vlog, you showcased your latest shopping haul for Nanami, who was in Shibuya for a board meeting. “All. The. Time.” Vlog after vlog, Nanami gathered them all and edited them into snappy clips. “She has a passion for photographing meals and desserts, whether we dine out, order takeout, or cook at home.” The footage captured you filming your dinner plates and soliciting Nanami's ratings as he munched, nodded, and gave you a thumbs up. When he requested the clips, you didn't think much of it. “I haven't met anyone who cherishes life's little joys quite like Y/N.”

The fast-paced snippets capture moments of you brushing dirt off flowers, generously offering cookies to teens studying in your bakery, crafting a necklace from seashells collected at the beach, attempting an ASMR mukbang with Nanami but ending up laughing too much, sharing your collection of hair ribbons, exploring the streets of Malaysia hand-in-hand on your first abroad trip, playfully filming him exercising and flipping the camera to fan yourself and bite your lip, sharing kisses while painting on the living room floor, and him peacefully asleep with his head resting on your chest—

Suddenly, the screen goes black, displaying the title “Life In My Eyes.”

Wiping away tears, you lean forward eagerly, curious about what other scenes he has in store.

Then, your own face fills the screen, bathed in the warm glow of the golden hour, with fluffy summer clouds behind you. Instantly, you recognize the setting: the cliff in Malaysia where you once spent hours talking. But in this clip, your eyes are closed, and you're facing ahead while Nanami captures your profile.

It switched to a different scene of you peacefully asleep against his chest, wrapped in one of his soft cashmere sweaters.

Then, it transitioned to you busy in the kitchen, a smudge of flour on your cheek and strands of hair escaping from your bun.

Next, it showed you tackling household chores, applying makeup, hurrying around declaring, “We're going to be late for the airport,” or shedding tears during the finale of “Happy Feet 2,” or enjoying a quiet moment reading and jotting notes on your balcony.

“Are you recording me?” Suddenly, a clip appeared of you playing with Sumo, a cat you had instantly fallen in love with at the pet adoption center.

“Yes,” Nanami confirmed.

“Pfft. That's my job,” you replied, returning to playing with Sumo. Nanami awkwardly turned the camera around, unable to find the right function to flip screens, and winked.

Then, it shifted to a dimly lit room illuminated solely by flickering candle lights. 

It was your bakery. 

You appeared on the screen, seated with your back to the camera. You waved an arm, only to realize it was a live feed.

What the . . . ?

Confused, you turned around to locate the camera, but instead found Nanami. On one knee. Holding a red-suede box containing a diamond ring. 

You almost tumbled off your chair in disbelief.

Nanami . . . Nanami was proposing to you.

Your boyfriend . . . soon to be your fiancé. 

And you couldn't breathe.

Panic threatened to overwhelm you. 

But first, you needed to slip that ring onto your finger and shower him with kisses.

Approaching him, you dropped to your knees, gently holding his face in your hands as you kissed him. Tears mingled with your synchronized lips, memories of his touching video playing in your mind. Life, in your eyes, was simply the joys of it. But in his eyes, life was you. You were his reason for living. And he was your heart, keeping you alive.

You pulled back, nodding silently as he slid the ring onto your finger. You noticed his initials on the inner rim, and a sob choked out of you, quickly sealing the moment with a kiss. His arm encircled your waist as he lifted you up, kissing you passionately. It felt like a soldier returning from battle, your body bending back as his smile widened against your lips. Soon, you would be Mrs. Nanami. Holy cow. 

“Happy birthday, darling,” Nanami murmured softly as you tried to catch your breath. He gestured with a finger and walked over to the back of the counter. “Close your eyes for me, my love.”

You shut them tightly, wiping away the tears, and sniffled, taking a deep breath.

“Hold out your hands,” Nanami whispered.

You complied.

Something small, soft, and incredibly fuzzy settled onto your palms. 

“Mew.”

Your eyes flew open, and there he was. Sumo. It was Sumo, the kitten who had both you and your boyfriend—fiancé—enchanted with his charm. You whined about adopting him once you left the shelter, but Nanami had been practical and kept the idea aside.

“Is he . . . Is he ours?” you asked, gazing into the feline’s sky-blue eyes.

“He's ours,” Nanami replied with a smile.

“He's—Oh my goodness, I'm going to start crying again.” And indeed, you did cry, holding Sumo tightly against your heart, gazing at the radiant diamond ring on your finger, and observing Nanami wipe away a tear from his eye's inner corner. “Kento, we're getting married!”

“I know, my love.” He planted kisses on your forehead, damp cheeks, and lips. “I can’t breathe,” he whispered, stealing another kiss. “You'll soon be my wife.”

“And you'll be my husband.”

“Such a privilege.”

You chuckled, giving him a quick kiss and wrapping your arm around his waist. Resting your head on his chest, you both admired Sumo staring wide-eyed at his parents. “I don't think I've cried this much since . . . ” You sealed the mention of your parents’ passing with a sigh. 

“I broke your heart with my plan,” he rasped out. “And I apologize sincerely for it. Satoru assured me it was foolproof, and regrettably, I trusted his judgment.”

It was no surprise it was his assistant.

“Where is he, by the way?”

“Parked down the block,” Nanami replied, lifting Sumo with his large hands to place him in his carrier. “I've already packed our bags for a trip. I'm taking you to Italy.”

“Huh?”

Nanami was nonchalant as he tidied up around the bakery, extinguishing the candles. “It's just for the weekend. I've spent the past week crafting an itinerary with all your favorite spots and restaurants to visit. You'll love the hotel we're staying at.”

You were about to bombard him with a barrage of questions, but instead, you couldn't help but smile.This was Nanami, after all. He had a knack for surprising you. One minute he'd be showering you with affection, the next he'd be whisking you away to Dubai for a vacation. One minute he'd forget your birthday, and the next he'd be proposing on one knee, presenting you with the cat you'd always wanted and whisking you off to your dream destination.

“—and there's this café that sells the most delicious macaroons—”

You interrupted him by pulling him close, planting a kiss on his lips, and wrapping your arms around him. Nanami eagerly responded, one hand resting on the small of your back and the other cradling the back of your head. When you finally broke apart, breathless, you looked into his hazel eyes and said, “Let's take our time, play with Sumo, and enjoy the cake you baked.”

“How did you know I baked it?”

You shrugged. “Baker's intuition.”

Nanami embraced you, resting his chin on your head. He took a deep breath as if replenishing his oxygen supply. His fingers gently ran through your hair, soothingly rubbing your back. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispered as though it were a fleeting thought. 

You nuzzled closer to his chest. “I love you too, Kento.”