#aren’t we supposed to be the mature ones

[lary-the-lizard]

People on the internets being like, “young people are ruining everything because they hate on sex” and maybe they are a little prudish but so what, they can’t control you and also what’s wrong with not liking sex related stuff? I hear the argument that you’re scared they’ll start censoring shit however debating the ethics of the portrayal of sex being uncomfortable with it ISN’T the same as censorship and debating it is a healthy way to learn.

Instead of shaming people who don’t understand help them understand. They’re young, they’ve been overexposed to sex they weren’t prepared for, their reaction is natural and most likely temporary.

Please stop with your moral accusations and public humiliations.

Twitter LGBTs are so sanitized it’s embarrassing

[xazse]

So about the Shouki no Kami x reader, while we're fighting Scaramouche's boss we get injured and some pieces of our clothes are already ruined, causing Scaramouche to feel umm. Yk 🫣

HUMILIATION

Synopsis: Your ruined clothing definitely catches Scaramouches attention.

Notes: Hi I enjoyed writing this, I must tell you that it’s completely consensual and reader was free to leave whenever she pleased but chose to indulge in scaras antics! + I do have other requests but they are just asking for a part 2 of something, I’d love to work on it but id rather work on some new stuff.

Pairings: Scaramouche x fem!reader

Warnings: Pussy eating + crying + manhandling + mean!Scara + dom!scara + overstimulation + smut + not proofread + creampie + begging

“Die insolent woman, you’ve been a pain in my side for the longest.”

Scaramouche points Shouki no Kami’s hand at you, he can’t choose which way he wants to kill you, with all the elements in his very hands it’s hard. He wants to make you suffer for as long as possible: wants your screams to fill the room as you beg for mercy, maybe you’ll even cry he’d enjoy that the most.

He bares you one more final look your face dirty and ragged, coughing up your own blood, his eyesight falls a little lower and he pauses. Your shirt was ripped with large tear; exposing your bra, it’s white and basic but nonetheless he can see the fat of your boob spilling out: clearly the bra doesn’t fit you as well as you think it does. Your shorts are a tattered mess as well.

He halts the beam to stare and maybe even admire you a little, He won’t lie and say he hasn’t felt a little bit of attraction at just how desperate you are to kill him, every battle you’ve had with him ends with him fleeing after taking a damaging hit or he’s managed to knock you unconscious, why he hadn’t killed you those times is because he’d wanted you to live with the humiliation, but now that he’s in the final steps of his plan he no longer sees the need to toy with you.

Looking at you longer starts to stir some of those lewd feelings he knows he shouldn’t have for you, it’s merely sexual nothing romantic, he deems you aren’t on his level for him to see you that way, doesn’t matter you’ll be dead in a few.

But… Ever since becoming sentient and reaching the age of maturity, Scara hasn’t laid with any women. As a way of relief when he was alone he’d find himself grabbing and groping at his cock, such a thing had an impact on his body and mind it aggravated him that men had to go through that, it did feel pretty good though when he reached his peak.

He supposes in this moment that you’d be the perfect specimen for him to have sex with, you should be honored you’ll be the first woman to take what humans call his virginity.

You attempt to grab your pole arm but find it getting knocked all the way across the room with just a flick of the giant robots finger. You feel completely defenseless, at least the comfort of knowing you went down with a fight will provide some relief, you close your eyes as you await your death.

Footsteps can be heard behind you, the bastard wants to kill you with his own hands? His steps are slow and steady as he approaches you, when he finally does he kicks you over you groan in pain at just the force of the kick, you’re now on your stomach when he sits down and puts his entire weight on your back.

“I’d kill you right now but I have other uses for you”

“Just get it over with” you seethe through clenched teeth

“And miss the chance to further humiliate you? I don’t think so. I could kill you right now or I could fuck you then let you leave orrrr you can leave and run back to your family with your tail inbetween your legs. Your choice either way you’ll die sooner or later it doesn’t matter to me”

Your lip quirks upwards and you resist the urge to burst out laughing

“Not so popular with the women? Knew you were a hopeless virgin,” you giggle a little before continuing “is that why youre so hell bent on destruction? You just needed some pussy?”

Scaramouche’s expression darkens but you can’t see that, he won’t allow you to.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, always have.” “I think that’s why breaking you down has been so fun”

You shrug “I’ll indulge you Scaramouche” you huff out, “I don’t need to guide you through it right?” You tease.

“No need, I’ll have you crying on my cock begging for more.” He tears off the remainings of your shirt, your shorts are next as he descards the fabrics somewhere else, you aren’t getting those back you sigh loudly.

He places his hand under your stomach in a way you’re arching: ass up and face smooshed into the cold hard floor. You don’t process it as quickly as you should but next thing you know you can feel the cool open breeze on your parts, bastard even ruined your underwear. He admires you once again, staring at your cute cunt as it’s begging to be filled and fucked, he’ll give you just that.

First he decides that he wants to taste you, wants to figure out why people enjoy pussy as much as they do.

He bends down a little, having him eye level with your cunt makes you feel a little embarrassed and your body a little hot, you’ve never been eaten out before if he does- you lurch forward when his tongue licks a stripe up. He thinks he didn’t really get a good taste so he licks another, and another until he’s full on licking and sucking directly on your hole.

“Ohh..mnh-“ you use your hand to close your mouth, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. But fuck does it feel so good, he hasn’t even found your clit yet and you don’t think you’ll be able to hold back anything.

He starts getting messy with his tongue work, it was messy before but now it feels dirty. You know you’re becoming wetter by the second and he isn’t wasting even a second to lick up the essence that leaks out. This position isn’t doing it for him anymore so he flips you onto your back, immediately he dives right back into sucking, when he accidentally brushes over your clit and sees the sweet whine that slips past he does it again to make sure he heard you right, tracing over the bud you once again make the noise but even sweeter.

“Scara-Ah..ngh”

His arms wrap around your thighs, he doesn’t even seem the least bit bothered that you’re caging his head in, he’s completely in tune with sucking on your wet sloppy clit. All you can do is take it and cry small whimpers of his names, you don’t know whether you want him to stop the pleasure or continue it.

His shorts begin to constrict as he starts to grow hard, they feel tight around him and he feels the need to loosen them up, his hand dips below his waist and into them, his fingers grope his cock roughly, the damn thing definitely has a mind of its own as established earlier. It’s already leaking precum into his hands.

He stands up on his knees, you obediently don’t close your legs, leaving them wide open, a little bit of licking has your eyes clouded and lusty, he thinks you definitely now deserve to feel the stretch of his cock.

He tugs his waistband just below his heavy balls, you stare openly too, he’s fucking big, you had never expected that from his small stature. He knows he is too with the condescending smirk on his face, clearly proud of what he has. It’s more thick than it is long, girth was not lost on him, you advert your gaze fully.

“What are you doing? Look at me clearly woman, none of that shy stuff now.” He leans in and pulls your bra down, useful for later he supposes.

He stokes himself a few times, making sure your eyes are trained on every stroke and every dribble of pre that cascades down his length. He taps his cock against your clit eliciting a sharp rise in your chest. His cock is placed against your wet hole and pushes in, he only gets a little past the tip before you’re whiny voice picks up and telling him to stop for a moment, he does obey to let you breathe.

As he sits and waits he can feel just how hot you are, he bets putting it even deeper will have him seeing stars.

He starts pushing in again, repeating the words relax as you tense up every so often, he isn’t going to fucking kill you. Your tight cunt starts to slowly adjust and pull him in, it gets warmer and warmer the deeper he goes.

“You’ve been- mhn..- fucked? How come you’re so damn tight?” It’s clearly starting to affect him, serves the dick right.

It’s not long before he’s got his full hard cock deep inside you, his chest is connected to yours as he lifts up his hips to slam right back down into you.

“So… ooh my god” his hips can’t stop fucking into you, your gummy walls just adds so much more stimulation, it’s filthy and gross the loud sounds of his balls slapping against your ass or your equally lewd moans of his name drive everything so much higher. His chest is rubbing against your nipples when he goes up and down, they feel raw and extra sensitive adding ontop of the pleasure.

He’s using you like a damn toy to reach his peak, it feels different than when he would use his hands, his balls feel heavier and he feels the need to empty them, empty them right inside your sopping cunt.

You take your fingers and begin rubbing wildly at your clit.

He’s been hitting a certain spot inside of you, but when he inches his hips a way, he hits it directly.

“Pleas- please again-“ “deeper-deeper Scara.”

It’s embarrassing how you’re full on crying it feels so good, too good, you can’t help but cry from the amount of pleasure you’re feeling, no man you’ve ever come across has had his size nor the way he keeps hitting that spot.

He gives you one more stroke and you whine his name the loudest since he had you bent over on all fours. Your pussy gushes and cums around his cock, that nasty white ring shines so much when he looks at where you’re connected for a slight moment but he quickly returns to your face: mouth slightly agar as you take wide gulps of air from just how powerful that orgasm was.

You weakly try to slide up and slip his cock out of you, he’s quick to slam right back in to the hilt.

“That’s not fair, I haven’t came yet, I think you can spare a few more hours” he taps your cheek lightly in a mocking manner.

“You can can’t you?” He purrs out so seductively.

“I’can” you slur out slowly looking so fucked out and In scaras terms ready for another orgasm just like that one.

He keeps fucking into you, even if his cock is soaked in just your cum, or when he switched positions to him standing and holding you with your arms wrapped around his neck whilst he fucks up into your pussy. The floor decorated with your juices just drive him to keep ruining you. When he finally does cum it’s mind-blowing, he bites down so hard on your neck that you think it drew blood. It muffles his loud groan as his balls constrict and he’s filling you with his load, you think the virgin will stop and be one and done but he isn’t, he pauses to breathe but starts bouncing you up and down on his cock all over again.

Scaramouche thinks he actually wants you alive, wants to keep feeling your hot pussy milk him nonstop, he’s interrupted in his thoughts with you weakly begging for more, you’re so fucking gross, wanting to be filled with more of his cum regardless of your hatred for him.

[leakyrocktarot]

What you want to hear Vs What you need to hear

Warning: This reading can and will be extremely blunt and a little harsh. Viewer discretion is advised.

DISCLAIMER: Take what resonates and leave what doesn't. If you are seeing this, you were meant to see it. How you take these readings and what you choose to do with them is entirely up to you.

If you need any extra help, a place to talk and heal, somewhere to just scream into the void, feel free to reach out!

Pile 1

What you want to hear:

It's going to be easy, it'll come to you naturally. What is yours will always come to you and will never pass you. All you have to do is be in a receiving energy.

What you need to hear:

So- here’s the thing, don’t fault yourself for believing this. Many tarot readers would often say these same few things creating a false sense of security, a false sense of hope. The truth us, none of us ever really considered just how much work is put into our dreams, our goals, bringing them into reality. That’s why it’s easier to fantasize about it, dream about that golden opportunity falling into our laps. Now I won’t be the one to say it doesn’t happen like that- but I will have to say, it’s very rare. The thing is, the universe only presents you what you are prepared for, and you have to really question whether or not you are actually prepared to handle the weight of your dreams. 

We think about all of the nice feelings, the good times, the positive sides to our goals but never do we truly consider the weight, the gravitas of the negative aspects of our goals and this is where you, my dear reader are currently at. There are a lot of hidden aspects in this world, things that people wouldn’t consider and I hope this exercise can help you come to terms with what you are truly asking for. Can you handle the physical workload, numerous late nights? What about your mental health? Are you capable of expressing yourself or are you shoving your pain deep down until they explode? What about your physical health? Are you eating enough? Staying hydrated? 

Every aspect of this goal of yours needs to be analyzed. What skills will you need for when you achieve your goal? Work on those. It's going to take a lot of actual effort, a lot of work and it will not be easy at every step but it will get easier and be worth it. You have to put in the physical work, but also the mental and emotional work to be able to handle those negative aspects. Heavy is the head that wears the crown and your head is heavy, but you will succeed if you put in the actual work from the moment you see this. 

Pile 2

What you want to hear:

You lover is coming in, just around the corner, maybe in a few days, your true twin flame.

What you need to hear:

Let it go, it isn't going to happen because you aren't doing what you're supposed to be doing and taking yourself and your life seriously, you are living in a fantasy, living in your head and waiting for a knight in shining armour and it’s not gonna happen. You are severely neglecting your life, your health, your mental well being because it is easier to live in the delusion that it is to face reality. It’s like you wake up, check out of life for the day to live in your head with prince/princess charming, and then clock back in at night to dream about your perfect fantasy person. Well, because of that, they aren’t coming in.

They are not going to come in because you cannot handle it. You cannot bear the concept, or even fathom what it would actually be like because you’ve convinced yourself it will happen in only one specific way. Listen, you don’t even have the emotional maturity to handle your dream relationship, you will 100% sabotage your own relationship because you wouldn’t even know how to appreciate it being right in front of you and will choose to live within your daydreams even if they were in your face. You will not be grateful, you won’t have gratitude, you won’t be able to pull yourself from the fantasy that you live in your head enough to actually pursue this person. The universe does not give you what you want just because you want it, you have to work for it, show the universe that this is something you can manage because it’s not about you. Especially since it’s not about you. Have you thought about how your future person would feel? This isn’t to get you to be self conscious in your flaws and insecurities, it’s to get you to face the real world and face reality and start being the person you wish to be in those dreams. The universe will not plop your person on your door step because the universe wants whats best for you and your person. Your person deserves to be noticed and loved as much as you dream about them loving you. If you cannot handle actually having a relationship, the universe will not give you one. You have to do your shadow work, you need to heal your wounds, you have to stop avoiding the real world because you’re dooming yourself to chasing a fantasy that will not come. This is dangerous because it is truly bordering on the level of spiritual psychosis here, pull back before it’s too late.

Pile 3

What you want to hear:

You are wealthy, You are rich, You are that bitch.

What you need to hear:

You can be a little bit of a pompous bitch and you need to tone it down. These affirmations are sending you down a path of delusional grandiose view of yourself, you need actual affirmations and not lies. You can't fuel yourself on coffee and crystals. Lol, let me tone it down a bit. The affirmations you are doing are- ok, but they are subpar. They barely scratch the surface, it’s like trying to go deep sea fishing but using a hook with a buoy attached to it. You are barely getting deep enough to get that fish, leaving you starving. 

Take some time to sit with yourself, what is it that you are struggling in? What are you avoiding, what is the feeling you are trying to suppress with these affirmations? Let's do an exercise, your affirmation of choice is “I am rich”, the reason why you are saying it is to affirm to yourself and to also manifest financial wealth, but why? Maybe you are struggling to pay your bills, maybe you have debt you wish to pay off. Telling yourself you are rich is not helping, it’s not affirming anything, it’s lying to yourself. Words are powerful, the brain itself, cannot tell a joke from the truth therefore it will believe whatever we think to be fact and if you believe that you are rich without the funds to back it up, you are creating a dangerous dynamic of you overspending because you believe you are rich and can afford it. This is dramatised to emphasise the point. 

If you want to actually manifest financial abundance, you have to have the mindfulness to handle it as well. Why do you think when people will the lottery they blow all of their money so quickly? Because when you go without for so long, living in survival mode for so long, the adrenaline of not having to worry overrides everything and you end up buying everything you’ve ever wanted until you have nothing left, now you are back at square one and probably in an even worse position. You have to affirm the mindfulness, instead of saying “i am rich” say “I am resourceful, I am abundant, I receive wealth infinitely” This not only calls the wealth to you, but it sets the notion that you are mindful and know how to wield that sword. You can’t be “that bitch” by lying to yourself, you can’t copy the look and vibe of Regina George and go around acting like her and call yourself Regina because you aren’t her, you’re copying her, you don’t actually have what she has. Find a way to actually make it yourself.

Pile 4

What you want to hear:

You are doing so well, you are doing amazing and nothing needs to change

What you need to hear:

Go eat a fucking bagel, put some food in your stomach and drink some water before you pass out and meet god. You are doing well in many aspects except for self care. Self care is not just running a bath with nice smelling bombs and cute candles and a cup of tea, self care is treating yourself like a human that is deserving of living, act like you are a parent to your body and see what I mean. Choose yourself bitch. you spend your days fantasizing about fancy foods only to eat a small bag of chips and call it a day. nourish yourself.

You are quite literally running on fumes and I’m surprised you even have enough cognitive capability to pick a pike and read this message. You cannot keep overworking yourself, under-nourishing yourself and expect things to be great for you. How the hell are you supposed to receive an award and give your thank you speech if you can barely hold your eyes open long enough to see where you are. I know you want to be successful, I know you want to experience the wealth and stability, but what use is any of it if you can’t even allow yourself to enjoy it? It is okay to take a nap, it is okay to rest yourself, it is okay to have an off day, it is okay to be bored, it is okay to do nothing. You don’t have to constantly be on your feet, always be doing something to earn the right to existence. You need to find the calm in the slow, find the calm in just existing and being you. You truly do not need to be doing a million and one things, it’s truly okay to be bored because boredom spurs creativity. How do you think we were able to create all of the things we have in this world? How they discovered cheese, how they created music? Because they had nothing else to do.

You can take a break right now and I promise you your life will not fall apart. This is not your cue to go and doom scroll on tiktok, instagram, twitter, shit even reddit. This is your cue to sit in silence, maybe a little bit of classical music and have a cup of tea, a bagel, a croissant, an espresso martini if you’re a fancy bitch and relax. Take a nap, do some soothing yoga, take a break from the grind culture, take a break from being productive, take a break from being stuck in the cogs of capitalism. Go out with friends, take a walk, something where you can experience the slowness of life and enjoy the world around you rather than zooming so fast through things. I see you moving so quickly through life that you don’t even stop to enjoy the beauty that is being alive.

Secret Pile 5

You know this pile is for you if: You are seeing this pile, were drawn to one or more pile, or couldn't choose a pile to begin with but still wanted to see the piles.

What you want to hear:

That career wants you too, that job wants you too, that person wants you too, the life you dream about wants you too

What you need to hear:

That career wants you too, that job wants you too, that person wants you too, the life you dream about wants you too. The things that you desire wants you too.

It is a hard world we are living in and sometimes we struggle to find the will to live, to believe that things will be better for us, to find the motivation to keep chasing our goals and our dreams. Here's the thing, the universe will always reward effort, and you are doing the best you can with what you have and the thing about the best is that there is always room for improvement. You know deep down what you must do in order to call in your dream life. You know if you want that dream person you have to heal your trauma. You know if you want that career you have to heal your fear of being perceived. The life that want you, wants you too because that life wants to exist too and it cannot exist without you at the center however, you cannot be superman without the superman powers. Your dream life, your dream person, your dream career, everything that you ever want are tied to you, and they are tied to the best version of you. The best version of you is the most authentic, healthy (mentally, emotionally), the most bold and audacious you.

You may feel discouraged, you may feel like giving up, but you've got this. Your future self wants you to keep going, to see where they are, to look back at what you've made, to be proud of yourself, and for you to experience the life the two of you created. You are doing this for your younger self and guess what? Your future self is doing this for you. The things you face, are lessons to learn, to make the experiences of the future easier to handle.

[lovebugism]

istg that “just because you’re beautiful and a good kisser does not mean i forgive you.” “you think i’m beautiful?” is sooooo eddie coded.

i'm picturing a sorta enemies to lovers with eddie pulling yet another prank on reader (we all know this boy has the emotional maturity of a five year old when it comes to making a move on the girl he likes) but he really does hurt her feelings this time so he tries to make it up to her and they end up kissing.

from what you've written before i think you could put a great spin on this sorta scenario, if you feel like it <3

hope you like it! :D — you're eddie munson's biggest enemy. and, yes, you're also his soulmate. (enemies to lovers, secret relationship, 0.9k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

You storm into the bustling lunch room, having traded your pretty corseted blouse for a piece of oversized Corroded Coffin merch — definitely not by choice. “Do you have a death wish?” you ask when you reach the Hellfire table at the very back of the cafeteria, zeroed in on its leader at the head of it.

Eddie turns slowly, blinking up at you with innocent button eyes. His chews through the hamburger wadded in his cheek. “Potentially,” he answers, muffled before he swallows it down.

You huff, too easily frustrated. It isn’t any wonder why he likes to mess with you so much. “Where are my clothes?” 

“The ones you left on my bedroom floor last night or…?”

“No, you idiot— The clothes you stole from the girl’s locker room. Which makes you a total perv, by the way.”

“Oh, that sexy little number?” he croons, turning in his seat to face you more. “It’s in my locker, actually.”

“Well, get it out,” you say with gritted teeth.

He thinks for a moment, pursing his lips to the side. “Hm… I don’t think I will.”

Your jaw tightens. “Why?”

“‘Cause it’s a little revealing, don’t you think?”

“Well, yeah, that’s kinda the point, Munson.”

He smacks his lips against his teeth, then scrunches the bridge of his nose. He wags a sarcastic, ringed finger at you. “See— Those aren’t the values a nice girl like you should have—”

“God, you’re infuriating,” you groan and stomp off again.

Eddie smiles to himself while he watches you go, cheek tilted lazily to his shoulder. The only thing he likes better than seeing you come (in more ways than one) is watching you leave.

He sighs a deep, contented sigh and turns back to the rest of the table. They’re all wide-eyed and silent, still musing on the sudden interaction with the disbelief that it had happened at all.

Eddie only grins, wider this time. “Ah… She’s obsessed with me.”

—————

By the end of the school day, your blouse hasn’t yet been returned to you. You’re still stuck in the stupid shirt Eddie had left for you — all black, too big, and obviously his. You know it belongs to him because you’ve worn it thousands of times while sleeping over at his place. It smells just like him, like weed and cologne and boy.

You’re heading towards the exits when a hand pulls you into an abandoned classroom around the corner — pale, ringed, and lanky. As if you needed any further confirmation it was Eddie Munson. 

You stumble in, and he locks it behind you.

“Don’t you think you’ve bothered me enough today?” you squint.

“Oh, so you don’t want your shirt back?” he teases, waving the thing in his free hand. You reach for it, and he snatches it back, smirking softly down at you. “Uh-uh. What’s the magic word, sweetheart.”

“Give me my shirt back,” you answer in a monotone.

“Not even close, but I’ll give you a kiss for it.”

You sigh like it’s a chore for you and lean in to kiss his cheek. Your lips just barely graze his stubbly jaw. Eddie shrugs. “You missed, but I’m feeling nice today, so—”

You snatch it from him when he hands it to you. “You can’t keep doing this, Eds. We’re supposed to hate each other.”

“Well, one, we do hate each other. Obviously,” he scoffs and leans back on one of the desks. It shifts under his weight, and he stumbles. He decides to sit on it completely while you laugh. “And two, this was, like, a genius prank on my end. I made my arch nemesis walk around in my shirt all day— you’re not giving me enough credit for this, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, except I got called the freak’s girlfriend all day.”

“By who?”

“Who do you think?”

He ponders for a moment. “…Jason?”

You nod, all slow because it’s obvious. The only one who hates Eddie more than you do is Jason Carver. You wonder if he’s secretly in love with the town freak, too.

“Well, it’s about time he knows who you belong to,” the boy says with a laugh. “He’s only been trying to get with you for two years.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t belong to anyone— I’m not a toy.”

“Well, yeah— only when you wanna be,” Eddie teases, reaching out for you. His ringed fingers curl around your wrist to pull you closer. You sigh in annoyance but walk between his thighs anyway.

“You’re so annoying.”

Eddie grins, pink and boyish. “But you like me anyway. So who’s the real loser?”

“I thought we hated each other,” you quip with narrowed eyes.

“I was kidding— Just kiss me.”

You giggle quietly and lean in to peck his lips. He tastes like nicotine and spearmint, mouth soft like flower petals. You get lost in him too easily. One peck becomes two — then three — then a longer, languid, and more drawn-out thing.

You feel Eddie smile against you, knowing he’s won now that you’re melting for him. You pull away with a smack when you regain your senses.

“Just because you’re pretty and a good kisser, doesn’t mean I forgive you, by the way. You know that, right?”

“Mhmm,” he hums mindlessly, already leaning forward to kiss you again.

You pull softly back. “And that I’m totally getting you back for this?”

“Yep.” He pecks your lips once, with a lot more self-restraint than you’d had. “So… When are you coming over to get the clothes you left at my place last night?”

[iceyrukia]

Good tags 🏷️

really gets me pissed when men see my frustration as amusement. thinking abt how i would get genuinely angry about something w my ex (unrelated to him in these cases, like getting cut off in traffic, etc) and he would look at me w this little smile on his face and say something along the lines of “youre so cute when youre mad” shut the fuck up i will rip ur fucking face apart

[jjscrybaby]

no one hurts you.

rafe cameron x fem!reader | angst | (attempted sa, murder, rafe being the best bf ever🥰)

thankyou for the req anon! i switched some stuff up, i didn’t want to add a new character (rafe’s brother like you requested) so i used topper instead bc i hate that man🙂‍↕️

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

“Do you have to go?” You huffed, pouting up at your boyfriend as the two of you stood by the front door. You were covering it, arms crossed over your chest to try and stop him from going.

Rafe let out an amused chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. “It’s just a night, baby. We’ve spent longer apart.”

“Yeah, and when you came back you promised never to leave me again,” you whined, stomping your foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum. He just carried on smirking down at you, used to your behaviour after three years together.

You’d stuck by his side through everything. He got locked up, for four months after an incident with a Pogue. It was supposed to be three years, but a mixture of good behaviour and a lot of payments had him out early. It had been six months since he got out, and he’d matured incredibly. He didn’t pick fights anymore, he hadn’t touched a line of coke since before jail, and he was finally working a proper job rather than doing drug deals for Barry. You were utterly proud of him, until now.

He had a business meeting on the mainland, and he’d decided to book a hotel for the night so that he didn’t have to travel twice in one day. You were definitely unhappy with that decision, considering you hadn’t spent a second away from him since he came back home.

“Look, you’re gonna be fine. Top’s gonna come over later to hang out, and I’ll call you after the meeting. Now be a good girl and stop pouting, if this deal goes well I’ll buy you that necklace you keep lookin’ at,” he stated, making your pout vanish.

You grinned up at him, nodding your head. “Mkay. Promise you’ll call?”

“Promise,” he murmured, leaning down to press a loving kiss to your lips. You tried to keep ahold of his shoulders to stop him from pulling away, but he just smirked and eased you off of him. “See you tomorrow, gorgeous.”

“Bye,” you mumbled, another pout appearing on your lips as you realised he was actually leaving.

He patted your cheek, giving you one more fleeting kiss before he walked out the door. You didn’t move from the doorway until he’d got into the car and driven away, waving at you as he went.

You spent the majority of the day trying to distract yourself, watching rom-coms, cleaning up the house, making dinner. It was six pm when the doorbell rang, you’d honestly forgotten that Topper was coming over so when you opened the door to see him stood with a bottle of wine and a six-pack you were shocked.

“Oh, hey, Top,” you greeted, moving out the way to let him in. “You didn’t actually have to come, I’m okay by myself.”

“Rafe wanted me to stop by,” Topper shrugged, giving you a charming smile as he walked further into the home that you and Rafe had recently purchased (or Rafe had purchased and you just came along). “I can leave, if you don’t want me here.”

“No, no. The company would be nice.” It was the truth, you weren’t used to being alone and you’d started to go a little crazy with the amount of movies you’d watched.

Topper had been Rafe’s good friend for awhile, but since Rafe got out of jail and became a better man they didn’t hang out as much. Topper was still pretty immature, partying as much as he possibly could, hooking up with random chicks and texting Rafe details he didn’t need to know. He was also still big on the drug use, and Rafe knew he couldn’t be around that. But, no matter what, they were close friends, and he trusted him to take care of you.

“Cool. I brought you some wine, know you aren’t a huge fan of beer,” he teased, holding the bottle out to you.

You tilted your head, accepting it with a cautious smile. “Didn’t realise we would be drinking.”

“Yeah, well, I figured you’re probably grumpy with Rafe gone and a drink could loosen you up.” He winked, trying to portray his words as a joke, but something about his tone made your chest tighten uncomfortably.

“Right,” you agreed with an awkward laugh. “Um, we can sit in the living room.”

You’d poured yourself a glass of wine, but you’d only had a few sips. Topper, on the other hand, had finished five out of six of the beers. You’d started off on opposite sides of the couch, but over the last half an hour he’d slowly edged his way closer to you. You’d noticed it, of course you had, but you were trying not to think anything of it. He was Rafe’s friend, he was here as a favour, you felt guilty for feeling so uncomfortable around him.

“I like that skirt,” Topper murmured, hazy eyes looking your outfit up and down.

“Um, thanks. Rafe got it for me,” you said, tugging it down as you noticed it had ridden up.

Topper’s fingers brushed against your skirt, your whole body tensed up. “It’s nice.”

“Thankyou,” you replied, trying to move away from him without it being noticeable. Except that was impossible, and he picked up on it immediately.

“Somethin’ wrong?” He asked, tilting his head to the side as he faced you. You shook your head, giving him a shaky smile. “C’mon, have some more wine.”

You didn’t want more wine, you wanted to kick him out and go to bed, but he’d come all the way here, and he’d paid for the bottle, you felt rude to not drink it. You reached for your glass and took a few more sips, his eyes watching your every move.

“There we go,” Topper grinned as the last sip went down your throat, you grimaced at the sour taste and put the glass back down on the coffee table.

Another twenty minutes went by, Rafe’s meeting would be over soon and he’d promised to call. You wanted Topper out by then, so you could have a conversation without feeling like a bad hostess. You turned to him, noticing how his eyes were already on you.

“Um, it’s getting late…” you hinted, messing with your necklace.

“I thought maybe I could stay over.” Your eyes widened at his words, you were certain Rafe wouldn’t have suggested that. Him being here for an hour or two was fine, but for the night? You didn’t want that, and you were sure your boyfriend wouldn’t either.

Before you could even respond, his hand landed on your thigh. Your words got caught in your throat, heart racing with anxiety as you stared down at his hand. His rings were cold against your skin, his thumb starting to rub circles into your inner thigh as he edged his hand higher and higher.

You jumped up, staring at him like he’d lost his mind. “I think you should leave now, Topper.”

“What?” He laughed, looking up at you as if it was you that had done something wrong. “Seriously? I’m not going to tell Rafe, a’ight? You don’t need to worry about that.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You exclaimed.

Topper stood up, towering over you with a scowl on his face. “Stop acting dumb. I know how you feel about me, I’ve seen the looks. I mean, shit, wearing that tiny skirt when you knew I was coming over.”

“I— I forgot you were coming, Top. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but I’m happy with Rafe—” you started to ramble, hands growing sweaty.

“Bullshit!” Topper snapped, glaring down at you. “You want me, I know you do.” His hands landed on your hips, gripping so tightly you were sure it would leave a mark. You shoved at his chest, but he didn’t move. He leant down and tried to kiss you, which had you using all your strength to pull out of his embrace and rush out the room.

You ran all the way upstairs, to your shared bedroom with Rafe, and locked the door behind you. You sat by the window, breathing heavily with tears down your cheeks as you waited to see him leave. After twenty minutes of him yelling at you through the locked door, he finally departed. It was only once he was out of sight that you ran downstairs and locked all the doors and windows.

Rafe called you as you were pacing the bedroom, you couldn’t bring yourself to pick up.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

It didn’t take a genius to notice you were acting off. It had been a week since Rafe returned, and you’d been jumpy, flinching every time he leaned down to kiss you, pushing him away when he’d try and initiate something, anything.

He was sick of it. At first he’d thought you were just being a brat because he’d left, figured you’d be back in his arms by the next day, but nothing had changed and he was starting to feel as if you weren’t even his girlfriend anymore.

“You comin’ to bed?” He asked, looking at where you sat on the opposite side of the couch; eyes hardly open as you stared at the tv.

“After this episode. You can go,” you mumbled. It was the same every night, you’d wait until he was asleep to crawl into bed even when you were falling asleep.

“Alright, enough of this shit,” he snapped, making you look over at him in surprise.

“What?”

“Why are you actin’ like this? Did I do somethin’?” He asked, begged, for an answer. You opened your mouth to answer, but all that came out was a choked sob. His anger faded and was replaced with panic, he moved so he was sat right up next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Baby, just talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t,” you argued through a sob, covering your face with your hands.

He pulled your hands away, hands on your face to force you to look at him. “Yes, you can. You can tell me anything. Just tell me what the problem is and I’ll fix it, okay? I’m worried, baby. You’ve been bein’ so weird the last week.”

You thought you’d be able to get over it, thought maybe it wouldn’t bother you all that much, but every time you took a second to think you’d be reminded of what happened. Topper’s hands on your hips, the look in his eyes as he leaned down to kiss you. You didn’t want to tell Rafe, what if he was mad at you? What if he believed that you really had given Topper signs?

“Something happened when you were away,” you whispered shakily, big tears running down your cheeks. You couldn’t keep it to yourself anymore, you had to tell him.

“What happened?” He murmured softly, stroking his thumb over your cheekbone.

“When— when Topper came ‘round, he…” you trailed off, shaking your head. “I can’t say it.”

His eyes narrowed, fear taking over. “What did Topper do?” His tone wasn’t soft anymore, it was angry, dark, you hadn’t seen that look in his eyes since before he went to jail.

“He… he was touchy, too touchy, he tried to kiss me,” you confessed, feeling both relief and panic at the fact you’d finally told him the truth. “He was saying loads of stuff, about how he’s seen the way I look at him and that he knew I liked him. I promise, Rafe, I don’t know what he’s talking—”

“Hey,” Rafe cut you off, tone sharp. “Non of this is your fault, you hear me? I’m not mad at you, I’m not disappointed in you, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

A sigh of relief left your lips as you collapsed into his chest, sobbing as you clung to him. He stroked your hair, mumbling praise into your ear to try and calm you down. Eventually, you exhausted yourself so much that you fell asleep against his chest. He lifted you up and carried you to bed, but instead of getting in beside you he grabbed his gun from the bedside table and left the house.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

When you woke up the next morning the space beside you was empty. Your head hurt from all the crying you’d done, your eyes felt heavy but you forced yourself out of bed. You walked downstairs, finding Rafe sat at the kitchen counter with an unfamiliar phone in his hand.

“Rafe?” You murmured tiredly, moving to stand next to him. He looked up at you, bags under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept a wink. His arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you into his lap.

“Hey, you sleep okay?” He asked softly, kissing your temple as he kept his eyes on the phone.

“Yeah… what’re you doing up?” You questioned. There was a look in his eyes, manic and angry. You ran your hand over his cheek, making his eyes flicker over to you.

“Listen, baby, I need you to do somethin’ for me. Somethin’ I promised you’d never have to do again,” he sighed.

“What is it?” You asked worriedly.

“If anyone asks, I was here, with you, all of last night,” he stated, making your eyes narrow in confusion.

“Were you not here all night?” You stared at him, waiting for him to give you an explanation.

He didn’t get the chance, because the next thing you know your phone is pinging with a text from Sarah. Have you heard the news about Topper? Followed by: is Rafe okay?

“Rafe, what happened to Topper?” You asked shakily, looking between him and your phone.

“He got what he deserved,” Rafe replied bluntly. He leant in a kissed your cheek. “I’m sorry, baby. I took it too far, I know that. But no one hurts you, no one.”

You should have been horrified, running from him or calling the cops, but you didn’t want to do either of those things. You leant in and pressed your lips to his, his arms around you tightening.

It was no secret that Rafe would kill for you, you just never thought it would actually happen.

[kentopedia]

I loooveee the way u write nanami 🥺🥺 was wondering if u could do a mini fic on nanami x reader but when they were in high school :O I feel reader would constantly flirt with him but he stays unbothered until she stops 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 thank uuuu

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS — nanami kento

omg thank u so so much, you're very sweet <3 i think i was taking requests when you asked this, so im so so so sorry i took forever to answer :( this isn't exactly what you said but i hope it's close to what you had in mind <3

contents: sfw, high school nanami & reader, mutual pining, silly teenage emotions, fluff, it's not even really romantic but they're best friends that won't admit they have a crush on each other, reader is shorter than him, gn!reader — 1.2k

“you can’t stay mad at me forever, kento.”

your best friend — or so you thought — stayed silent as you walked through the abandoned warehouse, searching for the curses that needed exorcising. so far, they’d evaded you, just as kento had all of your questions.

he glanced over at you, mouth drawn into its usual line. “i can if i want.”

“oh really?” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you continued forward, following him through the building. “are you fifteen or five? you’re supposed to be the mature one!”

kento rolled his eyes, but didn’t dignify that with a verbal response, letting his blade dangle loosely at his side. an odd sound echoed through the hallways, but it wasn’t quite menacing enough to be a curse.

you groaned. “don’t you know everyone will just keep pairing us up on missions until we work this out?” if kento was going to continue to be a pain, you wouldn’t allow him the silence he wanted so desperately. he’d been ignoring you for over a week. “haibara’s lucky. he gets to go with the second years.”

nanami glanced over his shoulder, raising his eyebrow, before looking ahead once more. “you mean he’s lucky he gets to go with gojo.”

though you weren’t sure if it was supposed to be an insult to you or not, you laughed. “maybe.”

“yeah,” kento scoffed. “i thought so.”

the tone was flatter than usual, even for someone like kento, and you raised your eyebrows, letting the words settle between you.

“you’re being so sour. you know, you never even told me what i did wrong. you’re so mad at me, kento, and i don’t even really know why.”

kento watched his feet take one step, then another, the opposite ones moving ahead. he’d grown a lot over the summer — a fact you’d somehow only realized. since when had he been that much taller than you?

“i’m not mad,” he finally settled on. a weak argument as to why he’d been ignoring you for the duration of your mission, and the week before.

you frowned, chewing the inside of your mouth. although kento had a kind heart, you knew how nasty he could be to people he didn’t like. you didn’t want to be one of those on the list. “kento… i really am sorry. if i’ve done something wrong.”

the tension drained from his shoulders. he sighed. “you haven’t.”

despite wanting to push the issue further, you let it die, deciding to listen to the silence in case of any curses. though, it had been nearly half an hour, and you hadn’t found any yet. you were beginning to think that maybe your teacher had led you astray.

“can i ask you something?” kento, after ten minutes, finally interrupted the quiet again. and though that sort of phrase was never a good sign, you would’ve taken anything to get him talking to you again.

“of course, kento.”

he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, seeming shy, almost. had it not been so dark, you would have seen the slight tint of pink on his cheeks, that you only assumed was there to begin with.

“what is it about gojo that you like so much?”

you blinked. “what do you mean?”

“you’re… interested in him, aren’t you? like that?” kento shifted awkwardly, holding his body as if it wasn’t quite his own. “i mean, i just assumed…”

all over, you great hot, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, a wave of dread heaping onto your stomach. “you think i have a crush on gojo?”

“don’t you?”

you thought about it for a moment, staring at the ceiling. “i don’t know. maybe.”

“maybe?” kento pinched his eyebrows together. “what the hell kind of answer is that? you either do or you don’t.”

“i think he’s...” you stumbled over the words, not really sure when you’d started talking to nanami kento about these sorts of things. the words tasted sour in your mouth. “well, i suppose he’s attractive, isn’t he? he’s certainly charming. he makes me laugh.”

“you’re always flirting with him," kento said skeptically.

you shrugged. "i'm just teasing. if you consider that flirting, then i guess i am."

“hm. you sound like you think you’re supposed to be interested in him, just because he’s gojo.”

that raised a small laugh out of you. “maybe you’re right. i think i might just be interested in people i know won’t ever like me back.” kento’s eyes flashed, and before he could say anything, lips parted, you continued. “but what do i know about anything, anyway? teenagers are supposed to be dumb like that, aren’t they?”

kento frowned, brown eyes softer than you’d seen in awhile. “i don’t think you’re dumb.”

“thanks.” for some reason, that made you bashful, darting your eyes away as you smiled at the ground. “have you ever had a crush on anyone, kento?”

he gave you a tiny little smile, poking you in the temple, before repeating your words from earlier. “i don’t know. maybe.”

“you’re so stupid.”

kento laughed, then, a light noise that was more familiar to you than it was to a lot of others. “you know, if it makes you feel better, i think gojo likes you. really, i do. he thinks you’re pretty. he likes when you laugh at his jokes. geto told us. he talks about you to him all the time.”

and though you’d expected the words to send a wave of glee over you, the sort of silly emotion that came with a teenage crush, you didn’t feel excited as you should've. perhaps because satoru had never been the one you wanted.

“gojo just likes to be admired. besides, everyone likes when people laugh at their jokes. that's not special.” you kicked at the floor. “anyway, geto’s probably just telling you all that so you’ll tell me and i’ll make a fool of myself in front of them. that would really make them laugh.”

kento frowned, contemplative. “i don’t think he would do that.”

he wouldn’t. it just seemed the only good way to diverge the conversation.

you threw your hands up, expelling a loud sigh. “well… whatever. honestly, it doesn't matter. i don’t think i even want a boyfriend.”

kento gawked at you for a moment, lips slightly parted, before he shook his head, another snort of a laugh leaving him. “you’re so confusing.”

“you should be relieved. wouldn’t you be miserable if i started dating gojo?” you were only teasing him, bumping his shoulder with your own, a playful grin on your face.

but kento’s voice was gentle when he returned his answer, and the relief was evident on his face. “i would.”

whether you knew it then, or not, that little confession had changed the course of your life. you brushed it off easily, gripping your cursed tool tightly as you turned the corner again.

“hey kento?”

“what? the curses are going to sneak up on us if—”

“you’re my best friend, by the way. even if i was dating gojo, you’d still be my best friend. you’ll always be my best friend.” you stopped him, serious now. “no matter what happens.”

kento smiled softly, barely there at all. he squeezed your hand in return. “i hope so.”

[theragethatisdesire]

pretty girl - jean kirschtein x afab!reader - 18+!!!

there's def more eren coming but while that's in the works please enjoy the result of the jean brainrot i experienced the other day. fair warning- it's going to get pretty rough, but that's what you asked him for ;)

pairing: reader x jean kirschtein

wc: 4.6k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, established relationship (jean's ur gorgeous bf lucky u), unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, pretty rough sex, vaginal fingering, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, daddy kink, use of names (pretty girl, crybaby, good girl), very dom jean, multiple orgasm, dacryphilia/crying, creampie

this one was super fun and is very tasty u guys enjoy <3

-

-> be there in 5 babe :)

You are not looking forward to this, to say the least. You pace madly around your little apartment in a massive t-shirt and sweatpants covering the skimpiest lingerie set you own. It’s got all the bells and whistles: a matching garter belt, lace in all the right places, stockings that come up to where your plush thighs are the fattest. You should be looking forward to this, you tell yourself, candles lit and ambient lighting ready to go. You have a gorgeous boyfriend who’s going to “be here in five”, and you should be brimming with excitement. But…you’re just not.

Jean’s been in your life for a few months now. What had started as a run-in at the coffee shop around the corner had turned into candlelit dinners, movie marathons, and exclusive titles, and you adore him. His sandy brown hair, the tattoo on his strong bicep, pretty hazel eyes– Jean’s sexy, loving, sarcastic, attentive, literally everything you could ask for in a boyfriend. Except when it comes to your sex life, that is.

The sex isn’t bad per se, you just can’t shake the feeling that he’s holding something back from you. He’s almost too perfect; he’s gentle with you, always taking care to ask permission before touching you, chaste kisses as he slides in, hand-holding in missionary. He cums every time, immune to the whiskey-dick you’d expect from his bourbon drinking habit, so you know he’s enjoying himself, but he doesn’t always seem all there. The fire just isn’t in him, and you know he has that side to him. You’ve seen those hazel eyes you love so much blaze, in a heated argument, at the gym. Why it doesn’t happen in your intimate moments is beyond you, it’s like he’s afraid to break you, like he’s not doing everything–

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Shit, knocking on your front door is what he’s doing.

You take one last look in the mirror: hair’s casual, but still sexy, makeup to a minimum, all straps and lace covered up by your inconspicuous pajamas. Time to potentially ruin your relationship.

“Hey beautiful,” Jean greets you with an innocent smile, “you look cozy.”

“Feel cozy,” you accept his kiss, chewing on your lip as he comes in. Your heart’s pounding in your ears; poor thing has no idea what’s to come. Maybe it’ll go well, you think; false hope might be the only thing that gets you to pull through with your plan.

“Have any movie ideas for tonight? I was thinking Hereditary, but only if you’re not too chicken…” Jean raises his eyebrows, a taunting smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Ha! If only he knew all of the things you aren’t “too chicken” for.

You smile weakly, stomach churning. “Maybe. Can we just…can we just talk for a sec?”

Jean’s playful demeanor drops instantly, replaced by a faint frown. “What about?”

You amble over to the couch, playing with the strings of your sweatpants anxiously. How the fuck are you even supposed to bring this up? Your mind’s racing so quickly it draws a blank, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt: “Sex.”

“Sex?” Jean’s cheeks tinge pink. He hasn’t shaved in probably a week, a shadow covering his sharp jawline. God, he’s gorgeous, you can’t mess this up, you really can’t.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “sex. Our sex, to be clear.”

“I figured as much,” Jean’s sat himself beside you now, one eyebrow raised suspiciously. He’s not upset, not yet, but you’ve definitely caught him off guard.

“I– I feel like we’re on different pages,” you stammer– fuck you are so bad at this, “I just feel like sometimes you’re so…gentle, and you don’t necessarily, like, have to be?”

Jean’s frowning full on now, a precious little wrinkle appearing in the center of his forehead. You’ve hurt him, and your heart sinks. Probably should have started with the pros. “Like…what do you mean, by ‘don’t have to be gentle’?”

“Our sex life is great,” you try to smile enthusiastically, as if you don’t actually want to blow your brains out right now, “please don’t think I’m saying you’re bad in bed or anything. I just, like– okay, for example, have you ever tried anything rough?”

His mouth is a flat line. “Like what?”

“Like, handcuffs, or roleplay, any of that stuff.”

“What have you tried?” His voice is even, collected, but there’s something simmering in him that you can’t put your finger on. It’s not anger, but it tastes similar, running in the same vein but not quite there. It’s your turn to feel your face warm.

“I mean, I’ve tried handcuffs before. Some light slapping, spanking.” You’re twiddling your thumbs, confessing into your lap. You can feel his eyes on you.

“That it?”

“I guess.”

“Did you…enjoy that kind of stuff?” He’s taking the bait. You finally meet his gaze and it ignites a little fire in your stomach; he’s never looked at you this intensely, brows pinched together like you’re a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. All of these little mannerisms are tells, you’re intuitive enough to know that, but exactly what he’s trying to convey you just can’t figure out.

“Yeah.”

“How rough are we talking, here?” Jean sounds deeper than normal, the slightest bit of strain to his words. That’s definitely new; Jean’s the most unshakeable person you’ve ever met.

“If I’m making you uncomfortable, I–”

“You’re not making me uncomfortable,” an easy chuckle floats out of his mouth, “just trying to feel you out is all.”

Your brows furrow. “Feel me out?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“Surprised?” Your nose wrinkles. “Did I ever give off the impression that I was, like, super vanilla or something?”

“No,” he laughs again, a bit of the tension melting from the room, “no, not that. We’re just still pretty new, that’s all. Wasn’t going to whip out everything in my toolbox ‘til I knew you were okay with it.”

That piques your interest; you think you’d very much like to see what’s in this toolbox of his. “So you do like some of this stuff?”

Jean rolls that thought over in his mind for a beat before responding, a suspicious smirk that you can’t read tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I guess you could say I like some of this stuff.”

“We’re back to my original question then: what do you like?”

“I’m more worried about what you like,” Jean says, “especially since you won’t come right out and say it. Gonna make me guess?”

That’s your Jean, blunt as ever. The fire in your stomach sparks and spits at the conversation, teasing and tempting. There’s something playful to his words; you can’t shake this feeling that you’re missing something, that he’s toying with you, but you like it. You let him keep pushing, see where he’s leading you. “Sure, guess.”

“Do you like…” Jean trails off, examining you with his chin nestled between his thumb and index finger, “to be dominant?”

“No.”

“Submissive, then.”

“Yeah.” He likes that, you can tell by the way his eyes glint at you. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“Like to be tied up?”

“Already told you about the handcuffs.”

“I bet you have a praise kink.”

That has you flustered. There’s a sinking sensation in your stomach that you’ve underestimated him, waded out too deep into the water, but fuck it, you’re already here. “How’d you know?”

Jean smiles, pleased. “I just do. Overstimulation?”

“Sure.”

“Orgasm denial? Degradation?”

“If I deserve it.” It’s a bold answer, but it makes Jean suck in a sharp “fuck” between his teeth. Oh yes, you’ve definitely underestimated him.

“You like to be punished, don’t you?” His hand has traveled up to cup your jaw, thumb playing absentmindedly with your bottom lip. There’s an anticipatory warmth gathering between your legs, and the air between you both is practically crackling, charged by the tension thrumming through both of your bodies.

“Yes,” it comes out in a breath, almost pathetic, but you can’t help yourself. He looks so good, always does, and now he’s grazing his eyes over you like he wants to take a bite.

“You know how safewords work?” You nod a bit too eagerly. “Ours is going to be red, okay?”

“Okay,” you’re agreeing, but you aren’t entirely sure what to, caught up in the soft rubbing of his thumb over your mouth.

“If your mouth is,” a deep breath shakes through his frame, “occupied, give me a sharp pinch with your nails.”

“I can do that,” the tension between you is palpable now, the room’s so hot that you’re surprised your wallpaper isn’t peeling off.

“Go to your room,” Jean releases you, eyes dark and hungry, “take your clothes off and wait for me on the bed. I’ll be in soon.”

You follow his instructions without thinking twice, as if a switch has flipped in your brain. Maybe it was his tone, an authoritative way of speaking that threatens consequence, or maybe you’re just so ready to see what this perfect boyfriend of yours has been hiding all this time. As you’re getting undressed, you realize he still doesn't know about your lingerie. You bite back a smile, kneeling on the bed. This is going to be so good.

A minute or so ticks by slowly, and just when your legs are starting to ache, Jean’s entering your room. His face darkens in a way you’ve never seen before when he sees your little get up; lightning shoots through your core.

“Put on a pretty outfit just for me?”

“Mhm,” you hum.

“That’s good,” he says in that slow drawl of his, “good girl.”

He’s only testing the waters, but you can feel your body viscerally react to the little pet name, shifting on your knees to mask your desperate attempt for friction, dampness spreading in your panties. Jean sees right through your act, smirking.

Jean joins you in undressing, slipping his shirt over his head. You take your time admiring his torso; miles of long, lean muscle, little ripples by his ribs trailing into a ridiculous six-pack. Jean’s a confessed gym rat, and it shows in every little line along his body. You have to blink and look away before you start salivating.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Jean scolds, tilting your head up towards him, “eyes on me, got it?”

“Got it,” you answer. Jean frowns.

“That’s not very nice,” he says, “try again.”

You go out on a limb. “Yes, sir.”

Jean’s eyes glint again in that mean, pretty way you saw earlier. You did good, you did good for him. “Much better. Get on the floor.”

You slide off of your mattress, practically buzzing with anticipation, settling on your knees in front of him. A low groan rumbles in Jean’s chest.

“Look so good like that, my pretty girl.”

Oh, you really like that, nuzzling against his hand on your head. Jean smiles down at you, inching his pants down until that little thatch of brown hair starts revealing itself. “Open up for me, nice and wide.”

Your jaw’s dropped, mouth open and tongue out, expectant. Jean smiles wider, sharp and dangerous, pulling his cock out for you. He taps the head against your tongue a few times, even slaps you with it, facade faltering for a fraction of a second to gauge your reaction. You’re good for him, sitting still and patient with your mouth still open, a drop of drool starting to slide off the end of your tongue. Jean makes a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a chuckle.

“Oh, you’re an obedient little thing, aren’t you?” Your panties grow impossibly wetter, you wiggle on your thighs under him, earning yourself another slap of his cock on your tongue, heavy and drooling. “Gonna fuck this pretty face, okay?”

You close your mouth around his head, sucking lightly to show your approval. He’s not even touched you, not so much as a kiss, and your brain’s foggy, running like a hamster on a wheel chasing the circular thought of be good, be good, be good. Jean grabs your hair none-too-gently, tugging it at the roots, and starts canting his hips towards your mouth, muttering under his breath about how good you are, how good your mouth feels on him.

You lower your jaw ever so slightly, and before long, Jean’s picking up speed, knocking your gag reflex here and there and making you cough around him. He doesn’t seem overly concerned; in fact, he grins cruelly down at you when he hits an extra-sensitive spot, making you hunch and gag on him.

“Look at my pretty girl, so happy getting her mouth fucked,” he hisses when you moan around him, feeling the vibrations up his cock. He’s moving faster now, rougher than he’s ever been. You’re gagging with some regularity, tears welling up in your eyes and threatening to spill down your cheeks. You expect him to let up, give you some air, but it only spurs him on, and before you know it, there are thick streams of tears running down your face. Your jaw aches, your knees burn, but you stay, letting him use you how he pleases.

“Fucking crying on me,” Jean growls, “my cock too much for you?”

You try to answer with a shake of your head, but he’s relentless, fingers tightening in your hair and cock shoving to the back of your throat, making you retch.

“No, you love it, don’t you? My little crybaby.”

You’re so wet you can feel it gathering on the insides of your thighs, entirely soaked through your panties. You move your hips subtly, this way and that, desperate for friction. Jean notices, pulling out of your mouth but staying connected by a string of your spit.

“You squirming, pretty girl? Need some attention?”

“Yes, sir,” you rasp, nodding eagerly. Jean helps you up onto the bed, lays you back against his chest facing the mirror on top of your wardrobe. It’s a terribly lewd sight; you spread out in front of him, face swollen and teary, the telltale glisten of wetness glittering on your thighs.

Jean slides a hand down your body, rubbing you over your panties and nibbling at your ear. “You’re gonna watch me make you cum, and if I see you look away, I’m fucking you ‘til I cum, and you’re not getting a damn thing. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” your voice wobbles pathetically. Jean seems to like it; his cock twitches in interest against your back. He pushes your panties to the side, flicking his fingers faster over your clit. Embarrassingly enough, you’re already nearing your halfway point from the face-fucking, moaning and grinding up into his palm.

“Need something?”

“Mhm,” you grit out, jaw clenched. Jean slaps your pussy; not too hard, but firm enough to make you jolt, bring you a moment of clarity.

“Manners,” he reminds you sharply.

“I’m sorry, I– can I please have a finger?”

Jean’s placated, slides one finger into you and laughs hot against your neck at the obscene sound that tears from your throat. “What do we say when we get what we ask for?”

“Thank you– fuck, thank you,” your words are coming out in puffs of breathe. Jean has long, skilled fingers, a fact you’re already familiar with, but the position he’s put you in has you dripping onto the sheets: forcing you to watch as he pumps in and out of you, grinding into your clit with the heel of his hand. You’ll be lucky if you last another minute.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? My pretty girl likes being full, right?” Jean murmurs, hot against the shell of your ear. “Tell me.”

“Yes, sir, I– I like it, I need– fuck!”

“What do you need?” Jean coos, entertained, as if he’s not unraveling you with just the one.

“I want one m-more finger, please,” you stutter, relieved you’re able to get the words out at all.

“Learning so fast,” Jean kisses your shoulder, granting your wish. His fingers are thick, the slight stretch making you throw your head back against his shoulder, hips rolling into his hand of their own accord. “Still looking?”

You force your head back to its upright position, mindful of the threat in his tone. His fingers work faster at your obedience, curling insistently against the gummy spot inside your walls that makes you see stars, makes you a little out of your mind with need. It’s that out-of-mind dizziness in your head that causes your little slip-up:

“Fuck, please, more- more, Daddy.”

Jean’s fingers still; it’s not until you’re halfway into a whine of disappointment that you realize what you’ve said. Your face burns; you meet his eyes in the mirror, yours shot wide and embarrassed. You trip over your words, trying to explain yourself. That definitely hadn’t been mentioned in your earlier conversation.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that, I just–”

“Just what? Already so fucked out you can’t think straight?” Jean curls his fingers pointedly against your walls, punching a groan from your chest.

“Yeah,” you sigh, head growing cloudy again.

“Say it again.” That definitely isn’t what you expect to hear him mutter against your neck. Jean works a third finger into your cunt with some difficulty, stretching you to your limits. “Fucking say it, or you’re not cumming.”

“Oh my God, D-Daddy,” your cries are pathetic, punctuated by whimpers. The bubble in your stomach is about to pop, the tension growing unbearable. You’re almost there, grinding into his hand pitifully and babbling, when Jean takes one of his hands to grab your throat roughly. He holds you captive, staring at your own stretched cunt on display for you in the mirror.

“Good, good girl,” he says, “now watch Daddy make you cum.”

The band inside you snaps viciously; your back arches away from him, and you squirt, gushing all over your bed sheets, inhuman sounds tearing from your throat where you struggle under his hand. Jean’s working you through the whole thing, still steadily pumping his fingers and whispering dirty little nothings into your ear. It finally begins to quiet, overstimulation washing over you. You push urgently at his wrist, mumbling something or other about “too much, too much”.

Jean mercifully obliges, pulling his hand from you with a shameful sucking sound, giving your pussy another light slap.

“Such a good girl for me, yeah? How you feelin’?”

“Good, so good,” you slur, “I’ve never– never…”

“Never squirted?” Jean’s eyebrows shoot up at your answering nod before a smug expression settles over his face. “Such a fun little toy, aren’t you? Just wait, you’ll get used to it soon enough.”

Your cunt clenches around nothing; so he can make you do that? Again? Jean’s slid out from behind you and is repositioning your limp body, dragging you down the bed by your ankles to line you up with his cock. He bends your knees up, pressing them close to your head. Jesus, he’s going to kill you at this rate.

“Want me to fuck you?”

“Please,” you hate the begging lilt to your voice, but you’re beyond fighting it. You gave up the reins a long time ago when you knelt for him, let him call you a good girl, let him fuck your throat.

“I’ve got you, pretty girl, Daddy’s gotcha,” Jean starts bullying his way into your pussy, still tight and pulsing from your orgasm. “Shit, got a tight little cunt, don’t you? Feels so good– fuck.”

You’re simpering under him, barely able to process the stretch of his cock in you. He’s well-endowed and you’re overwhelmed, a dizzying combination for your fucked-out brain to handle. Just when you think he might be in your throat he’s so deep in you, his hips press to the back of your thighs, both of you letting out a long groan at the feeling.

“So pretty,” Jean muses, not moving yet, just placing a thumb on your clit and absentmindedly playing with it, “such a beautiful pussy.”

You whine, frustrated. He glares at you, landing a harsh smack to your inner thigh.

“I’m not going to warn you again.”

“Please fuck me, oh God, please,” you pant, past the point of humility. Jean licks his lips, presses his palms deep into the backs of your knees, practically folding you in half. He gives you what you ask for.

You’re jolted back and forth on the mattress, mouth hung open in a silent scream as he splits you open on him, forces every inch deep into you. His tip’s kissing your cervix, pain blooming in your abdomen, but you don’t even care, so lost in the rhythm of his hips.

“Jean, I– oh my God,” you try to tell him how good he feels, but all you get is a firm hand around your throat.

“Who’s fucking this pretty cunt up, hm? Fucking you good and deep? Who is it?”

“Daddy,” you choke out, breathless, “Daddy’s.”

“There you go,” Jean’s focused on where you’re connected, eyes never leaving the frothy white ring forming around the base of his cock. You’re crying again, vaguely aware of the streams of tears running down your temples, into your hairline, but fuck, he just feels so good your brain can’t even process it. Jean takes notice, wipes one of your tears and licks it off of his thumb. “Cute fucking crybaby, all happy and cockdrunk, aren’t you?”

You whimper some semblance of an agreement, feeling the band of tension in you already getting stretched to a breaking point. He’s at an angle that allows him to hammer into the most delicious spot inside of you, rubbing against it with each thrust.

“Gonna cum soon, I– I’m gonna cum soon,” you manage, locking his gaze.

“Let me feel it, go on, do it for me,” Jean pants, squeezing your neck tighter. The lack of air goes to your head; the room spins until all you can focus on is him pounding into you. You cum violently, throbbing around his cock, thrashing against his strong arms. Jean fucks you through it, never losing his pace. “Good fucking girl, just like that.”

You’re practically wheezing as your senses return to you, clawing at Jean’s arm on your throat. He lets up on your neck, smiling down at you. “Feel good?”

“Mhm,” you hum, blissed out and half-asleep until Jean flips you, forcing you to prop up on your hands and knees. “Wait, Jean–”

“Wait?” Jean scoffs, sliding back into you. You let out a little cry, and he smacks your ass sharply. “This is what you asked for, right? Said I was being too nice to you.”

“I didn’t– oh my god…” your eyes roll back into your head, a well-placed thrust cutting your words off. “It’s so…it’s so much, Jean.”

Jean lands three more sharp slaps to your ass, already thrusting into you at a brutal pace. “What was that?”

“T-too much, Daddy,” you collapse, face shoved into the bed to mask the pitiful cries leaving your mouth. It is too much; if you tuck your chin to your chest, you can see a little bulge in your tummy where he’s fucking into you, another orgasm already building in the pit of your stomach. You feel like you might pass out if he makes you cum again, but he’s ruthless.

“Too much?” Jean coos, fisting your hair to turn your face. He’s glaring down at you. “You were practically begging me for it, and my pretty girl gets what she wants, right? Said you wanted it rough, so you’re going to fucking take it.”

You nod miserably, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Jean hisses when you clamp down around him. “Squeezing me so goddamn tight, this pussy.”

You feel a hand start thrumming insistently against your clit and nearly shriek; your pussy’s so swollen, so sensitive already. You claw at the bedsheets, feeling something warm and wet swelling inside of you.

“Daddy, I– fuck, it’s, it’s–”

“Gonna make you squirt again,” it’s a promise from behind your ear, “you’re gonna squirt on my cock and Daddy’ll cum for you, okay?”

“I can’t, I–” you’re wailing, words cut off by your own moans. Jean loves it, you can feel his thrusts growing more urgent against your hips, so deep in you you could choke.

“You can,” he corrects you, hand moving faster, “want Daddy to cum in you?”

“Yes, please, p-please,” You cry, letting him use you as he wishes. 

“I’ll give it to you, gotta cum first, you can do that, can’t you? Taking me so well, pretty girl, just need you to cum one more time for me.”

“Uh-huh,” the edges of your vision are starting to close in. He’s ruthless, hips slamming into yours hard enough to bruise, cock stretching you out so nicely, you can’t hold it, but you know, somewhere deep in this primal part of your brain, you need to be good, need to ask him. “Need to cum, Daddy, please– please let me, I–”

“Go ahead,” Jean shushes you, hips moving impossibly faster, “be a good girl, let me feel it.”

That tips you over the edge and Jean makes good on his promise; your cum is dripping out of you, spraying onto his thighs and ruining your sheets. You’re thrashing your head back and forth and sobbing through your orgasm, pinned and powerless under him. Jean swears at the vice-like grip you have on him; it doesn’t take him long to follow suit, pressing himself as deep as he can go, cumming in you. He bends over you as he does, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to him, kissing you hard in a mess of tongue and teeth. You feel it warming your stomach, moaning appreciatively until you both collapse in a sweaty mess of limbs, gasping for breath and clutching onto one another.

Jean allows himself a few moments to catch his breath, and then he’s pulling out of you, leaving you empty and whimpering. He shushes you, holding you close to his chest and letting you work through the intense session in his arms. You’ve never been so fucked out, nuzzling into his chest and simply letting him hold you, letting the aftershocks wrack through your sore body. After a few minutes you’re coming to; the haze begins to lift, and you peek up at him, unsure of where to start after…that.

“You okay?”

You turn the words over in your mouth before you can get them out, still feeling a bit like you’re floating. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. That was…wow.”

Jean, the man that just held you down and forced what were probably life-threatening orgasms out of you, blushes. “Yeah, it was really something.”

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, giggling despite yourself. Your mind is still a little cloudy, a little soft after everything. “But it was good. So good.”

“Yeah?” Jean grins, hoisting you up into his lap so you can both sit up, still cradling you to his chest. “Not too gentle, was I?”

Your face grows hot, you want to hide it behind your hands. “No, not too gentle.”

“You were right earlier,” he admits, “I was definitely holding out on you just because the way I like to…I mean, I don’t think I need to get too into it, you were there. It can be a lot. Didn’t want to push you too far.”

You hum contentedly, playing with the little gold chain he always wears. “I understand that now, but I’m a big girl. I can handle whatever you want to give me, promise.”

“Don’t say that,” Jean groans, “too tired for round two.”

Your hand falls into the mess between your thighs, and you wince. “Maybe after a shower?”

“Greedy,” Jean tuts, scooping you up with him to make the journey over to your bathroom, “my greedy, pretty girl.”

[mellowsadistic]

Birthday Part - Part 2

Sarah’s Auntie, Helen, soothed her crying daughter and helped her out of her wet pull-up and into a fresh one. She was still furious at how cruel Sarah had been to Penny, but if all went according to plan then her three-year-old daughter was going to look positively mature compared to the little brat.

Helen was buzzing with anticipation. She couldn’t wait to go and see what Sarah looked like now. She knew how effective the hypnotist was – and this was exactly why she’d hired him. She’d been planning this with Sarah’s mother for quite some time. She’d given Sarah a final chance, just to be fair, but even she hadn’t expected the girl to be quite so rude. As far as Helen was concerned, her niece was getting exactly what she deserved.

As soon as Penny was in a dry pull-up, Helen took her by the hand and walked eagerly over to the back bedroom. There was a faint voice coming from within, followed by a high-pitched girlish giggle. Helen opened the door, and there she was... She smiled broadly sight of her bratty niece. The girl had been stripped of her crop top and jeans, and in their place was nothing but a glittering pair of fairy wings and a thick, white, disposable diaper bulging between her legs. Her bare breasts were out, and they wobbled on her chest as Sarah turned to face her with a dim, vacant grin on her face.

Helen couldn’t help but let out a cackle at the sight of her. “Hi sweetie!” she cooed tauntingly. “You’re looking very cute!”

“I’ve just finished telling little Sarah here all about how she loves being silly,” said the hypnotist. “Haven’t I, sweetie?” he asked the infantilized young woman standing next to him. “That nasty big girl is locked up inside your pretty little head. You’re just silly Sarah now, aren’t you?”

Sarah giggled again, nodding. “Siwwy Sawah,” she echoed.

“So she’s still conscious inside?” Helen asked the hypnotist while Sarah looked at them uncomprehendingly. Like Penny, who was still holding onto her mother’s hand, she looked as though she had no idea what the grown-ups were talking about.

“Oh yes,” said the hypnotist, smiling darkly. “The adult Sarah is still in there. She just can’t control her body at the moment.”

“Good,” said Helen in a satisfied tone. “I want it to be a punishment for her.” She looked into Sarah’s eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination, but she thought she could see a hint of fury and horror behind them. She smirked. “Come on then, sweetie! Let’s get you and the birthday girl back to the party, shall we? We’ve got all sorts of fun things to do!” She turned to the hypnotist. “And nobody will see anything wrong with it?”

“Nothing at all,” he said. “I sorted that out when I did the mass session earlier. They’ll know she’s supposed to be a grown woman, but they’ll just accept in their heads that she’s nothing but an overgrown baby. They won’t think twice about her cute little boobies bouncing all over the place.”

“Mummyyy!” Penny whined. “Wanna go back to the party!”

“Okay, princess,” Helen crooned. “We’ll go back right now!”

Helen took Sarah by the hand and led the two girls back into the kitchen, with the hypnotist following behind, his eyes on Sarah’s padded bottom. To him, there was nothing better than taking pretty young women with attitudes and transforming them into overgrown toddlers…

Sarah was angry and terrified, but she had no way to show it. All she could do was rage and scream inside her head while her body smiled stupidly and toddled along beside her Auntie, her bulky nappy crinkling loudly with every unsteady step she took. What was going on?! Surely hypnosis wasn’t powerful enough to force her to act like a giant two-year-old?! They entered the kitchen, and immediately all the adults were swarming around them, cooing at her and Penny. She could see people chuckling at the sight of her bare tits, and some even reached out to tickle her tummy, making her giggle and squirm as if she was enjoying the attention.

“Time for some music!” her Auntie announced, and she started playing some embarrassingly babyish nursery rhymes on speaker. The brats were all dancing, and that’s when Sarah felt it, a sudden restlessness in her arms and legs. Without warning, her body broke into dance as well, and it wasn’t the kind of dancing she usually did at the club. There was nothing sexy or seductive about the way she was moving now. Sarah stomped her feet and waved her arms and shook her Pampered bottom to the silly baby music, giggling and squealing happily while all the adults watched and laughed. Even with her bare boobs out, the way they jiggled and bounced about on her chest just made her look ridiculous rather than sexy.

Inside her head, Sarah was seething. She’d never been more humiliated in her whole life! And then something even worse happened. Quite suddenly, she started wetting herself. There was no warning, no chance of holding it in. One moment she was prancing about in a dry diaper, and the next she was pissing. Her body didn’t seem to mind – she kept dancing and grinning like a moron, but internally she was cringing in shame as she flooded her nappy with wee-wee, and her baby-pants became droopier and droopier. Her warm pee sloshed about in her pants, and Sarah felt like she wanted to be sick. Other people had noticed her way her diaper was sagging, and the way it had become discoloured with her pee, and they pointed and chuckled openly. Her Auntie stepped forward and slipped her fingers down the front of her nappy without so much as a warning, but she only laughed once she’d felt the wetness there, and let Sarah go back to her absurd baby dancing.

The afternoon didn’t get any better. Sarah had to play pass the parcel and pin the tail on the donkey, all with a soaking wet diaper squishing horribly beneath her bottom. She’d promised herself she’d leave straight away if anyone asked her to go near a used nappy, but she’d never imagined she might have her own soggy diaper to deal with. She wanted to sink into the ground and disappear. She wanted to beat her Auntie and the hypnotist to a bloody pulp.

“Alright girls,” Sarah heard her Auntie say, once they’d finished yet another childish party game. “Who’s ready for cake?”

Sarah started jumping up and down in excitement just like the others, even as her stomach turned at the thought of the rich, calorie-heavy chocolate cake. They couldn’t do this to her! But there was nothing she could do but allow herself to be led over to the enormous chocolate cake. The other children (not the other children, she told herself firmly – she wasn’t a child) were all served their cake on cardboard plates first, leaving her bouncing on her feet, making her soaking wet nappy swing pendulously between her legs.

Grinning, her Auntie tied a pink bib around her neck and handed her a slice of cake. Sarah tried desperately to control her body, but she couldn’t stop herself reaching out and grabbing the piece of cake with her fingers and cramming it messily into her mouth. Soon there was chocolate all over her hands and face. She felt disgusting. She hated being messy!

Her Auntie smiled sadistically at her while she stuffed her face, and reached out to poke her in the tummy. “At this rate you might end up with a little bit of baby fat on your body!” she teased, her eyes glittering maliciously. “Wouldn’t that be adorable?” Sarah felt her stomach drop at the thought.

Once she was done, Helen cleaned her up – or at least, she cleaned up her hands. Although she wiped away some of the cake from around Sarah’s mouth, she made sure to leave her lips and chin smeared with chocolate.

At that moment, Sarah heard her tummy rumble.

Her Auntie tittered. “You can’t still be hungry!” she said. “Unless…” She smiled again, a dark and slightly eager smile. “Does little Sarah have to do a whoopsie?” she cooed delightedly.

Sarah just looked at her blankly, but she wasn’t sure she would have been able to speak even if she had been in control of her body. She felt frozen. No… Surely she didn’t mean...?

There was a cramping in her tummy, and Sarah clutched her belly. NO!

Helen leaned in close to Sarah’s face, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Is the poopy express about to make a stop in your pants, Sarah?” she asked.

Shrieking inside her mind, Sarah bent her knees and stuck her diapered bottom out behind her. Then, with a loud grunt, the twenty-one-year-old started filling her nappy with a big, yucky mess. Her diaper bulged about behind her and sagged even more heavily between her legs, until it was halfway down to her knees. Her pretty face was screwed up with the effort of dirtying her pants. She knew she must look utterly absurd, a grown woman dressed in only fairy wings and a nappy, packing her Pampers like an oversized two-year-old.

She prayed desperately that this was all some sort of horrible nightmare, that she might wake up any second. But when she was done pooping her pants, she looked up into the smiling face of her Auntie and said, “Me made poo-poo!”

“You certainly did!” her Auntie laughed, taking her by the hand and leading niece through the crowd, into the living room. “Choo-choo!” she called happily. “Make way for the poopy express! Little stinker coming through!”

Sarah just stomped along happily, as if she didn’t care one bit that all these people were seeing were waddling along in a clearly loaded diaper. Everyone was laughing at her. Then she saw where her Auntie was taking her, and she felt as though a bucket of icy water had been dumped over her. There, in the middle of the living room floor, the hypnotist had just finished laying out a large, plastic changing mat.

Helen lowered her down onto it gently, and Sarah wrinkled her nose in revulsion as her bottom squished against the filthy mess in her pants. Then her Auntie leaned in close so nobody else could hear and said, “I hope you’re enjoying yourself, Sarah, because the hypnotist’s work isn’t just going to wear off. It has to be removed, otherwise you’ll just be stuck like this. And your mother and I have talked it over, and we think it would be best if you had a second try at babyhood. Maybe it will teach you to treat others with a little more concern. So get used to the feeling of a soggy, stinky nappy, Sarah. You’re not going back to normal for a very, very long time.”

Sarah’s lip trembled. It seemed that her hypnotised body had no intention of stopping her from crying.

“Oh Penny, princess!” Helen called, flashing a nasty look at Sarah before turning around. “Can you help me change your little cousin’s nappy? Just think of her as a great big dolly!”

Sarah saw Penny toddling over to her eagerly, ready to do what Sarah herself had been so disgusted by only a couple of hours earlier. As her legs were lifted into the air, and her Auntie got to work cleaning her up, Sarah thought about what her future would involve. She thought about all the messy mealtimes and baby dances and stinky diapers she would have to endure. Then she started wailing at the top of her lungs.

[tsumuhours]

CLANDESTINE PARING: suna rintarō x fem!reader TAGS: smut, best friends brother trope WORD COUNT: 5k

If there’s one thing about the end of exams and upcoming – high school – graduation, is the plethora of parties that follow. Call it what you want; schoolies, freedom, and an amazing – yet awful – experience full of drinking, hangovers, or the flu. 

At this moment, you’ve been crashing at the one and only Niki Suna’s home. Your best friend, and number one party animal who has a killer house in the centre of all the house parties being thrown by, now, old classmates. 

It has been incredible, her parents aren’t home which gives the two of you the freedom to leave every night and come back after midnight without any questions or secrecy. The only issue is that her twenty-year-old brother is home. 

Rintaro is not a big problem, he keeps to himself, never leaves his room. He’s only in the country for his sister's graduation, free food, and the fact that he doesn’t have to do his own laundry. Plus, it’s a free vacation. 

Although, the times he does come out of his room, you can’t help but feel awkward around him. The last he saw of you was two years ago, when you were sixteen – an age that wasn’t sweet at all. Despite the short time span, a lot can change in two years, you’re evidence of that statement. 

You’ve grown into your face, matured, and don't look as young anymore. You’ve gotten more confident with yourself, your body, and it all reflects in the clothes you wear. You speak with a certain command and authority, you walk with a grown confidence, and radiate an aura of gold. 

Who knew that the girl that he knew would morph and change into a completely different person in the span of two years? No one can blame him for keeping a fixed gaze on you whenever you pass by, it’s admirable to see the person you’ve become. 

However, it doesn’t matter how much self-confidence you’ve built up over the last two years. Around him, around his sharp stare and gaze, it’s hard to keep your head up or find the will to get up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water out of the anxiousness that he’ll be there too. 

Which brings you and Niki to now. Friday night, one thirty in the morning, the two of you are walking through the front door. You have managed to sober up from that mysterious, sweet, and addictive, rum punch concoction that you’ve had one too many glasses of.

You cannot say the same for Niki, who had spent the night downing one too many shots and has yet to ride out the alcohol. Nevertheless, she’s still able to walk on two feet and not stumble into every coffee table or shelf stacked with family photos. 

“Oh my god,” Niki laughs, kicking off her shoes by the door. “I kept my mouth shut about this at the party, but fuck what was Rina thinking going for Jennie’s man?” She scoffs, “We need to debrief in my room.” 

“Girl, I’ve got so much to fucking say about Rina.” You add, forcefully removing your shoes, “Like, I was talking to Jasmine earlier on the balcony and god has Rina been pissing a lot of people off recently.”

“Tell me about it,” Niki rolls her eyes, starting to walk up the steps with you following behind her. “Like, she was fucking wilding out tonight.” She mutters, pushing open her room door – revealing the mess created from getting ready – and collapsing onto her bed. 

You, however, reach into your bag for the little toiletries pack, wanting to get all the makeup off your face and make sure no future breakouts happen. Skin care is a priority. And head towards the ensuite bathroom, “And she didn’t even know what she was doing.” You say. 

“Me personally,” Niki hums, “if I was Jennie, I would’ve swung on that bitch.”

“That’s so fucking valid though,” you nod, pulling out a micellar wipe before dragging it over your eyes. “Like, what the fuck are you doing? Get away from my man, if it’s like, you know I’m into him, we’ve hooked up multiple times before, what are you doing?” 

“Literally!” Niki exclaims, “We’re supposed to be friends! Why are you cuddling next to him on the couch?” She questions, shaking her head at the awful events that transpired throughout the night. “But! Don’t think I didn’t see you and Atsumu earlier.” 

“What about me and Atsumu?” You question, poking your head through the open bathroom door – still scrubbing away the mascara from your eyes. “Bro, Helen even asked me about that! She was like: when did you and Atsumu get so close?” 

“Did you do anything?” Niki asks, sitting up from the bed. “I know you have tendencies to get with people then not tell me!” She laughs, “Who was it again? There was Mattsun, and then his best friends? You have a tendency to go for the whole group.” 

“No, no, I did not do anything with anyone tonight.” You reply, “I mean, I wanted to… don’t get me wrong, but I had a feeling no one was down.” 

“Ugh, boo!” She groans, “Shit, okay, I need to change.” Niki thinks aloud, standing up from the mattress, “God, I’m so fucking ready to knock out and have the best fucking sleep of my life.” 

Your best friend opens up her closet, digging out a big t-shirt and shorts. “God, I need some fucking water.” You mumble, tossing the dirty makeup wipes into the bin, “I peed like five times at the party.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Niki snorts, slipping through that big t-shirt of hers.

“Dehydration is the biggest cause of hangover headaches,” you inform. “We’ve got two more parties coming up, and I’d like to be in good shape for the next forty-eight hours of ragers.” You exit the bathroom, then dig into your bag to change into pyjamas. 

Simple. Shorts and a tank. You walk back into the bathroom, half closing the door as you get changed. “Okay, so go downstairs and get water.” Niki says, stating the obvious.

“Can you come with me?” You ask from the bathroom. 

“What? No, go by yourself.” She says, “You’ve been here a billion times before, my parents see you more than they see me. This is practically your second home, why do you need me to come with you?”

You adjust your tank top before stepping out into the bedroom, “Niki! Your brother is downstairs, I don’t want to go down there alone.” You plead, “If it was just us, or your mother, then yeah, I wouldn’t mind.” 

“Girl,” your best friend looks at you as if you’re crazy. “It’s Rintaro, he probably won’t even clock that you’re down there. He’s not the brightest in the bunch, he’s studying business.”

“Yeah, but like, can you just… please?” 

“You’ll be fine! He’s just Rintaro, and he’s probably high as fuck.” She assures, “He’s probably too stoned to care.” 

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.” You dramatically sigh, trudging towards the closed bedroom door. “I feel so betrayed right now.” 

“You’re so dramatic,” Niki laughs. “Hey, and since you’re going down there, get the big water bottles from the fridge and get those crab or prawn crackers from the pantry.” She adds, finding a perfect opportunity to stuff her face with snacks. 

Although, Niki is underestimating how tired she really is, because the second she gets comfortable in bed – she will be out like a light. Niki has always been a quick sleeper, she claims it’s iron deficiency. 

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” You wave her off, mentally preparing yourself as you walk down those steps. 

As you navigate towards the kitchen, there’s music playing quietly from the TV in the dark living room. Rap, hip-hop, 21 Savage. And no doubt, there’s Rintaro sitting on the couch, a weed pen between his lips as he sprawled out on the couch, the dim light from his laptop casting shadows on his face. 

Lord knows what overdue assignment he’s working on, or how he can possibly be in the right state of mind to write a 2,800 word essay before the – extensions – deadline. 

Still, he lays on the couch, inhaling that condensed form of THC. Wearing sweats and a flannel that has been – purposely – unbuttoned. The way he sees it, is if you can wear those little black shorts with the white rims, he can unbutton his flannel. 

Now, never in a million years did he think he’d find himself attracted to you. It’s not meant to be an insult, but after watching you go through the most unflattering, awkward, phases and being his little sister's best friend… this new change, of seeing who you are now hit him like a pile of bricks. 

Besides it’s not fair to see you parade around in those clothes, unknowingly teasing him. The past couple days have been hell, a game of look but never touch. You’ve been connected at the hip with Niki, you’ve been avoiding him. 

Talking loudly about these random guys who looked ‘so fit’ at whatever party. Yeah, he’s heard those late night conversations you’ve been having. Niki doesn’t know how to close a door, and the walls are quite thin. 

Rintaro just wants a little fun, he wants to poke the bear, he wants to mess with you. Nothing serious. Just something to keep him entertained, being home has been extremely boring, and the last thing he wants to do is hang around a bunch of high schoolers at parties. 

His eyes glance up from his laptop screen, watching you like a fox, as you walk into the kitchen. He watches you as you grab that litre water bottle from the fridge, then dig into the pantry for those god awful prawn crackers. 

Rintaro gets up from the couch and approaches you. This is his chance, his chance to have a little fun, to get into your head with some sadistic ploy that will now doubt keep you up at night. Nothing more than a little flirty comment. 

“Fun night?” He hums, catching you off guard as you hold the heavily inflated packet to your chest. “It seems like you and Niki are out every day, how many parties could there possibly be?” 

“You should know, you went through the same thing.” You comment, calmly, nonchalantly. You can’t let him see that he gets to you in a way no one else does. 

Rintaro is the type of guy who is attractive and knows it. He’s cocky, and until now, barely gave you the time of day – or looked at you the way he’s doing now. It’s obvious, it’s in his eyes, one of the main reasons you’ve been avoiding him. 

He’s giving you the look that you’re no stranger to. 

You know what he’s doing, and lord knows you’ve played these exact same games in the last couple months. Nevertheless, that doesn’t excuse the pick up of your heart, or the slight shake in your hands as you talk to him. Rintaro is a tall guy, he’s intimidating, and on top of it all, crazy attractive. 

Anybody would be nervous. 

Even you, with your big mouth and presented confidence. 

“But yeah, it was a good night.” You add, walking over to the counter to grab the bottle of water. You can’t be gone for long, that would only raise questions from the very best friend who is waiting upstairs for her snacks. 

Or so you think, at this moment, Niki is knocked out on her bed – late night scrolling on socials instantly sent her to sleep – as what was previously mentioned, Niki underestimated how tired she was. 

“Anything interesting happen?” Rintaro asks, resting back against the countertop. “From what I heard Rina is about to get shunned from the friend group,” he teases. 

“Well, she wouldn’t have to worry about that if she had backed off.” You reply, “Never go for a friend's man, that’s claimed territory.” 

“What about brothers?” He muses, “Are they off limits too?” 

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, that was corny. “Yeah, I’d say they are.” You nod, fighting back the temptation to playfully flirt back. “It’s worse if this brother is someone you’ve known since you were thirteen.” You shrug.

“Well, if I could plead the case that the brother probably didn’t want to push any boundaries before, and didn’t see the sister's friend as a proper… prospect.” He says, “Besides, no fifteen-year-old would ever consider looking at someone younger. That’s weird.” 

“How is it different now?” You question, “It’s still two years.” 

“Eighteen is an appropriate age for a respectable gap of that size,” Rintaro hums. “It’s not like I’ll be playing on an illegal field either.”

“‘I’ll’?” You repeat, “What are you implying Rintaro?” 

There you go, you’ve caught him. May as well surrender and stop whatever he’s planning. A real shame though, you’d be lying if you say you’ve never considered or thought about what it’d be like. It’s just that, he’s your best friend's brother. 

Sure, the song is a good escape and great material to think about, but it’s not something you actually ever considered pursuing. He makes you nervous, even talking to him now feels like a crime. And the fact that you’re flirting doesn’t make the situation any better. 

“I’m not implying anything,” he shrugs. “And I don’t know what possibly drew you to that conclusion,” he says. “Are you implying something?” 

“Well, I don’t see any reason for something to be implied.” You shake your head, “All I’m wondering is why you brought up the concept of brothers being off limits, as if anything like that has stopped you before.” 

“Oh, wow, you’ve got a sharp tongue.” Rintaro remarks, “Flirting with me, and patronising me at the same time. I have to say, I’m impressed.” 

“That’s nice, but I should get back to Niki.” You say, “You know, your sister, my best friend, who is currently upstairs.”

“Oh, come on, you and I both know that she’d probably be knocked out in bed.” He comments, “Stay down here for a while, I could use the company.” 

“I know what you’re doing, Rintaro.” You inform, “I see it in your eyes, and it’s not going to happen.” 

He’s been looking at you as if you’re prey. And the alcohol still in your system makes it a lot easier to talk to him without stuttering over your words or getting flustered. His stare is probably the worst part about this whole interaction. 

“What am I doing?” He asks. 

He’s failed to realise that it’s hard to play a player. If you were considering flirting back, it’d be sly. The small hand placements, comments, the simplest of looks that would trap him in. You have your system, and it works. It worked for Matsukawa and all his friends. 

And it would have worked on Rintaro. 

“You know what you’re doing,” you hum. “Now, I will be heading back upstairs. Lord knows I’m not drunk enough to betray my best friend.”

“And I’m not high enough to not care about the consequences,” Rintaro shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I still don’t want to do it.” He takes a step closer to you, grabbing the items in your hand and places them down on the countertop. 

“You cannot be serious right now,” you shake your head. Sure, you knew that he was trying to play you, use you for a little entertainment, but you didn’t actually think he was being serious. You didn’t actually think he’d make a move. 

And no, he’s not expecting anything to happen or to come from this. He’s pushing his limits, seeing how far he can get until you end up running off. If anything, what’s persuaded him to be so forward is the sight of that little gummy bear charm hanging from your necklace. That stupid pink charm that you and Niki got as a symbol of your friendship or whatever.

That stupid pink charm that dips down to the crevice of your chest – something he hasn’t seen before, considering, in the past, they’d always be hidden behind a hoodie or some unflattering t-shirt. 

“I’m being serious,” he hums. Going along with some bit he’s come up with in his head. His fingers wrap around that little pink gummy bear as he plays with it. 

“Don’t do that, don’t even try Rintaro.” You shut him down, looking up into those striking pair of eyes, “Niki is upstairs. What would she think if she came down here and saw this?” You question, swatting his hand away. 

Curse your fucking loyalty. 

Rintaro rolls his eyes, placing his hands on either side of you on the counter, trapping you between his arms. “Niki this, and Niki that. She’s not down here, is she?” He questions, “What if Niki wasn’t a problem? Because, it seems like your only defence here is that she’s upstairs.” 

“That’s because she is,” you say. “I can’t possibly encourage this type of… behaviour with you. You’re her brother.” 

“What if I wasn’t?” He hums, “Would you change your mind then?” 

“Will you let me go if I tell you?” You ask, wanting to get out of this situation before anything bad happens. 

“Yeah, I will.” 

You sigh, meeting his gaze. And the sight of looking down at you, the flash of darkness in your eyes, it all sends Suna off a ledge. This must be what happens when he pokes the bear. There’s something behind your eyes, something that fucking pulls him in. That has him thinking this isn’t a joke, or a game anymore. 

“If you weren’t my best friend's brother, then yes, I would change my mind.” You reply truthfully, “Honestly, if I were drunk enough, or bold enough, I would change my mind. I’d even risk saying that if Niki weren’t upstairs right now, I’d change my mind.” 

“She doesn’t have to know,” Rintaro hums. “It’ll be a temporary fix, nothing serious. No one has to know.” He composes himself, trying to steer the conversation back to his control. He can’t show weakness. 

He can’t show how much he wants it now. 

“As much as I love temporary fixes,” you begin, “and the idea of sneaking around… I don’t think it’s the best idea.” Now you’re teasing him, running your hands down his flannel. He can’t poke the bear and not expect to get bitten. 

You know you shouldn’t be doing this, you know you’ve been so back and forth, but you can’t help but find some fun in this situation. It’ll be like one prolonged drum roll, an ellipsis, something which implies more but is never finished or reveals an ending. 

“Well sometimes we have to be selfish,” he whispers. The tension building up in his veins, blood, and mind. “And the best ideas aren’t always the smartest.” His hand moves to play with the ends of your shorts, the faint linger of his touch brushing against your thigh, up to your hips to the hem of your shorts. 

“I shouldn’t.” Correction, you shouldn’t be the one to make the first move. If he wants this, he will make the first move – despite everything which was just said, you won’t stop him. There’s something electrifying about the light touches, the tension you helped escalate. 

He wanted to play a game, and a game is what you’re giving him. 

“You shouldn’t, but you can.” Rintaro mumbles, unbeknownst to the fact that you’ve managed to have him wrapped around your finger in a matter of seconds – of playing dumb – due to the simple trick of making him feel wanted. 

“Lord knows I can, but what about Niki?” 

“She can go fuck herself.” He says, immediately connecting his lips with yours in a heated kiss. 

Kissing Rintaro is nothing like you’ve experienced, kissing him is like daring to run over knives or fire, it’s a rush of adrenaline caused by a strike of lightning. Kissing him is like knowing you’re doing something bad, but it’s too addictive to pull away. His eyes close, hands firmly placing themselves on your hips.

Rintaro pulls you closer to him, your hands tangling themselves in his hair. He gives in, kissing you with a growing desperation, arms snaking around your waist. Mouths linking together in a mess, tongue slipping past. 

He can taste the remnants of alcohol on your tongue, and you can smell the weed that has attached itself onto his clothes. 

He’s deep and urgent, pushed by the forces and temptation of a quick temporary fix, an illicit affair, and clandestine meeting. His hands travel down to your ass, underneath your shorts, holding the flesh in his hands. 

His touch lingers down to your thighs, Rintaro lifts you up onto the counter. Your hands run down his bare chest, and he shudders at your touch. Cold fingertips trailing down his body, to then pull at the drawstrings of his sweats. 

You know you shouldn’t be doing this. You know that Niki could come downstairs at any moment and see the position you’re currently in; legs wrapped around her older brother, his hands exploring his body, learning every curve and crevice. Entangled together, connected by a messy kiss fueled by boredom, and frustration. 

Out of breath and completely intoxicated by the moment. Suna’s hand travels up, tugging down the tank top. Exposed to him, the chill of the night in the cold. He moves down, kissing your neck, throat, and the slope of your shoulders. Lips attaching themselves onto your chest, tongue placed flat against your nipple.

His breaths come in harder, faster. Your hands threaded in his hair, clinging to him in this ice-cold heat you’ve been placed in. Pulling at the roots, bringing him back up to your lips. Suna’s hand replaces his mouth, beginning to knead the flesh.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathe out. He’s moving away from your lips, moving down to nibble and bite at the sensitive skin on your neck and jaw. 

“But it feels good doesn’t it?” Rintaro hums against your neck, holding your body against his chest, trying to devour every piece of you he can. Loving the way you shudder at his touch, and the shortness of your breath. “I know you want me, because god knows, I want you. It’s only one night princess.” 

He returns to hover over you, head tilted down as he uses his thumb and index finger to bring your chin up. Looking down at you with a sinful glint in his eyes, grinning at you like the devil. Almost obsessed with the seemingly innocent, wide eyed look in your eyes, slightly parted lips. 

His thumb drags down your bottom lip, continuing to tilt your head up at him, keeping your gaze in place. “Come on, one night is not bad. Nothing is wrong with a little quick fix.” 

“Well, I’d rather not risk my morals, and integrity for something quick.” 

A flame ignites behind those eyes, a quirk of his eyebrow. “Whatever you say,” he says. Rintaro hoists you off the counter, your legs wrapped around his torso, as he carries you towards the couches. He throws you down onto the cushions, wraps his fingers around the bundled up fabric of your tank top and pulls it over your head. 

Then he drops down to his knees, in front of you. He tugs down your shorts along with your underwear, leaving you completely exposed on the couches. Rintaro pushes your legs apart, “Keep them open for me.” He smiles, pulling your body closer to his face. 

His tongue darts out, lips enveloping themselves around your clit. He uses a free hand aiding the stimulation. He’s devouring your cunt as if he’s never eaten before, as if he’s intoxicated by the feeling of the moment and the sinful act of going down on his younger sister's best friend out in the open on the couch. 

Savouring your taste on his tongue, his fingers prodding your entrance. 

Your back arches, throwing your head back. Chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, quiet and hushed whimpers escaping from your lips. One hand gripping onto the cushion behind you as the other pulls roughly on his hair. Hips bucking up, obsessed with the insatiable sensation of Rintaro’s tongue on your clit and fingers curling inside you. 

Suna hooks your legs over his shoulders, diving deeper into your cunt. Willingly obliging to the fact you’re pushing him closer. At the twitch of your legs, Rintaro quickens his movements, wanting to milk you and push you towards your orgasm. 

Whimpers and muffled moans, a strain of fuck, don’t stop, although the most motivating of them all is the pretty sound of his name slipping off your tongue. “Rin,” you say. A fire burning up in your abdomen, as he begins to leave a trail of sloppy kisses from your clit up to your stomach and chest. 

In the absence of his tongue, his fingers move quickly against your clit – forceful movements – determined to have you reach your peak. Your hips jolt forward, lost in the haze of pleasure that succumbs you. 

Eyes clenched shut and mouth agape, it’s a fucking sinful sight. 

Suna reconnects his lips with yours in a sloppy makeout, drowning out your moans and taking them in as his own. A result of his fingers, you’re shivering under him, so needy and desperate. “Go on sweetheart,” he whispers. The pads of his fingers rubbing harshly against your sensitive clit.

Your nails dig into his back, forehead leaning against his shoulder as you feel yourself reach climax. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” breathing out, your body growing weak under his touch. Mind spinning from pleasure. 

Strained whines, legs pushed back as he milks out your orgasm. Rintaro hovers over you, impressed by his own work and your finger and tongue fucked expression. He runs another finger through your folds, lapping up the cum and saliva. 

Using his free hand, Suna grips the back of your head, tugging harshly at the roots of your hair as he forces you to look at him. Then forces his fingers past your lips and onto your tongue, “Suck.” He instructs. Reluctantly, your lips wrap around his fingers as he slowly pulls them from your mouth. 

There you are, tired eyes, and completely vulnerable and exposed underneath hin. But the little smirk that appears on your lips. You sit up, pushing him back against the couch. Cocky as ever, Suna sits back, memorising the beautiful sight in front of him. 

He watches you with lustful eyes as you work your way down his body, tugging down his sweats. Your hand wrapping around his dick, stroking it, pumping him. Rolling your wrist over the tip, milking out the precum. 

“You got a rubber?” 

“I’ll pull out,” 

You shrug, placing a hand on his shoulders, pushing him down onto the couch and keeping him down. Lining his dick with your entrance, you lower yourself onto him. The sensation, and feeling, of your walls clenching around his dick sends him spiralling. 

His head rolls back, hands reaching up to grip at your hips. You roll your hips, finding all the right places for you, and absolutely driving him insane. She begins to lift, setting up a steady rhythm. “Oh, fuck, you little tease.” Suna breathes out. 

He has laboured breaths at the irresistible and mind-fucking feeling of you taking him in all so well, your tight little cunt that sends him off the edge. Getting to have you all, without a barrier. The rise and fall of your hips, bouncing on top of him. A hand reaching up to your chest to grab a tit, a thumb running over your nipple. 

You grab his wrist and pin it back behind his head, “No touching.” 

“We’ll see about that,” he groans. Quickly changing your positions, flipping you around until you're face down on the couch. Suna lifts your hips up, pushing down on your back to create an arch. He keeps a hand on the back of your head. He pushes his dick inside, causing you to intake a sharp breath. “What was that sweetheart?” He teases. 

A firm hand placed on the side of your ass, as thrust into you. A quiet “fuck” sounds from his throat as he begins to fist your hair in his hand. He rolls his hips, roughly, forcefully pushing into you. Bottoming out to reach the deepest part of you. 

Breath taken away from you, gripping onto the fabric of the couch. Back arching at an insane angle, “Ah,” you moan. He snaps his hips forward again, feeling weak and heavy from the current position, and the consistent thrusts coming from Suna. 

His movements become harsher, rougher, as he pounds into you. He pulls your head back by your hair, leans forward until his chest is placed against your back. Suna connects your lips in a roush kiss, biting down on your bottom lip. 

Although, he quickly disappears again, lost in the moment. His hands gripping onto your hips as he pulls you to him, matching his thrusts. You begin to lose any ounce of strength left in your body, letting your upper body lay slack on the couch. 

Suna lands a slap on your ass, kneading the flesh as he continues to thrust into you from behind. “Oh, fuck,” he groans. “You feel so good,” he hums, “fuck, I want to see your pretty fucked out face.” 

He pulls out, flips you around, hoisting your leg over his shoulder. He wraps a hand around your throat, basking in the way you grip onto his wrist. Looking at him with those half-lidded eyes, as he pushes into you. Loving the way your pussy sucks him in, loving the look of his dick moving in and out of your cunt. 

He picks up the pace, eyes fixed on your chest and how they bounce given each forceful buck of his pelvis. “Faster,” you whimper, gripping onto his hair. “Fuck me,” you plead. 

Suna pounds into you with relentless speed, and under him you’re falling apart. Becoming nothing more than a limp body that had been taken over by an overwhelming amount of stimulation and force. With the growing pit in your loins growing incredibly, the heel of your foot digging into his back. Dark vision growing blurry, mind clouding – blocking any thought or action, temporarily blocking your senses as you started to reach your peak.

Your pussy clenching around his dick, it sends Rintaro off a spiral, and he’s threatening to break. You’re close, so close, and all you need is one last push. His hips slam into you, body filling with pleasure as your orgasm rides out.

Suna quickly pulls out in time, cumming all over your stomach. He crashes down onto you, snaking an arm around your waist as he rests his head onto chest. Your hand brushing his hair, trying to regain your breath. 

“So, how long are you going to be in town for?”

“Until graduation, why? Wanna do it again?”

“I’d like to hear those whimpers again.”

[yamumsyadadd]

Las Blancas v Barca

teresa abelleira x barca!leon reader

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t supposed to be a secret, or to come crashing down in the way it did. 

Tere wasn’t that much older than you, just four years. It was less than AMC and Mapi’s age gap but to your big sister, Tere was ancient. 

You officially met Tere when you were called up to the Spanish squad after the Las 15, at barely 18 years old it felt like a huge responsibility, and it was. Mapi had resigned from the team, as had fourteen other players. It look a lot of difficult conversations with Mapi, your parents, and Irene before you accepted. Even though Mapi had she she didn’t want to hold you back or hinder your career in anyway, you could tell there was a part of her that was disappointed. Not in you, but in the RFEF. 

It was the beginning of the rift between the two of you and that’s why your relationship with the Las Blancas player was kept a secret. From everyone. 

“Hi! I’m Tere, you’re Mapi’s little sister right?” 

“Yeah, y/n. Nice to officially meet you.” We shook hands in the lobby of the RFEF accommodation quarters. 

“Vilda asked me to show you around.” You walked around for a while, Tere showing you the lounge area, the cafeteria and the kitchen room. “It’ll be good to get to know you when we aren’t battling against each other on the field!” She laughed and you knew then you were in trouble. 

Ever since that first day at camp, you were in deep. The curly haired, freckled face girl forced her way into your heart. No matter how hard you tried, she was always in your head, even when you were back in Barcelona and she was in Madrid. 

It was in Australia after the World Cup final when all the feelings came out. 

“Tere! We are world champions! World fucking champions!” The alcohol was coursing through your veins at the point, slightly aware of what you were thinking but the ability to stop yourself wasn’t there. 

“We are! And there’s no one else I’d rather do it with.” The skin under her hands made you tingle.

“You’re so beautiful.” It was meant to be a whisper but it was the complete opposite. 

Her lips came crashing down onto yours. It took a few seconds for your mind to register that this was a real thing and not just one of your many frequent dreams. Those few seconds was all it took for Tere to pull back, looking slightly horrified. 

“Oh my god. I’m so sor-“ it was your lips that shut her up. The only way you could describe the feeling of kissing her was like coming home. You both got carried away before she gently stopped. 

“Go on a date with me?” You agreed embarrassing fast. 

The dates were hard to navigate once you were back in Spain but you made it work and now, almost a year later, you were happy in your relationship even if it was a secret. 

It was the first camp back after the disappointing loss that followed the Olympics. Spains first, and potentially last. Finishing fourth and losing the bronze medal game was heartbreaking, for all those involved. There were photos that showed you and Tere looking a little more than teammates but not enough for anyone to truly say anything. But that didn’t apply to Jenni. 

As much as you loved her, she irritated you more than anyone else. Her reasoning was that she was just as much your sister as Mapi was and since Mapi wasn’t there to give you shit, she did it on her behalf. 

It was meant to be just gentle teasing, all in good nature. But after a while it got to you. Instead of being mature and actually discussing it with your girlfriend, you just completely ignored her. 

“Y/n!” Her footsteps were getting closer so you started walking faster, “amor!” She caught up to you easily, grabbing your wrist to spin you around, “why are you ignoring me? What’s wrong?” 

“I can’t deal with it anymore!” 

“With what?” 

“The-the teasing, the jokes, everything! At first it was whatever but now? Now they kept saying how much Mapi would hate it, ‘Barça v Real on the field but lovers in the bedroom’, not everything is about fucking sex.” 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I can ask Jenni to stop?”

“No, god no. Then she’ll know it’s true.” Tere dropped your hand, a look of hurt flashing across her face. 

“Is that really so bad? People knowing that you’re my girlfriend?” 

“Tere we both agreed, we wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Are you ashamed of me? Is that it? I know that Barça and Real have a huge rivalry but I didn’t realise you would be so ashamed to be seen with me.” 

“Tere wait!” It was no use, she was already gone, “that wasn’t even what I meant.” 

Begrudgingly, you decided to join the dinosaurs in the rec room. Jenni and Misa were playing pool and Alexia and Irene were on the couch. You forced yourself between your two captains, head following onto Alexia’s shoulder. 

“You okay nena?” Irene poked your cheek. 

“No I messed things up.” Both girls gave you a curious look, encouraging you to carry on, “I may have said something that I shouldn’t have to someone and it hurt their feelings but my feelings were hurt first and now they are mad at me.” 

“Is this person someone who is important to you?” 

“Very. I love her, so much and I want everyone to know how much but it’s hard.” 

“There’s a difference between private and a secret. Which one does this girl fall under?” 

“A secret.” You mumbled out, knowing that chastising you were going to receive. 

“I’m going to take a wild stab in the dark here and say that you and this mystery girl agreed to keep your relationship a secret during the World Cup but now she wants to tell people?” Irene gave you a knowing smile, all you could do is nod your head. 

“I think you’re overdue for a proper conversation with Tere.” Your head shot up at Alexia’s words, eyes wide as if you’d been caught with your hand in the cookie jar, “she’s a good person. I would say great but she plays for Real. Go talk to her.” 

You shot up on your feet, quickly hugging and kissing both their cheeks and then you were off. It took a lot of grovelling and the promise to slowly start telling people. 

There was a plan in place, it had been throughly discussed and agreed upon but that all turned to shit as soon as you entered the locker room after the first El Classico game of the season. 

Everyone was extremely happy, as usual. Standing there, at the door way, you just blurted it out. 

“I’m in love with Teresa Abelleria and we have been dating for a year.” The entire room fell silent, everyone slowly turning to look at you, but all you could do was stand there like a deer in headlights. That was definitely not the plan. 

“What?” It was your sister’s voice that cut through the silence. 

“I, um-“ 

“A year? An entire fucking year and you kept this from me?” Mapi had started to make her way towards you, fury filled her face. 

“I was planning on telling you. I was. But I needed time to figure it out myself and not have anyone butt in with their unwanted opinions.” 

“My opinion doesn’t matter to you? That’s a bit rough. Your opinion matters to me, y/n.”

“Mapi that’s not what I meant and you know that!” 

“Then what did you mean! Use your fucking words!” She yelled. Everyone in the locker room was just watching it unfold. 

“Ever since I got called up to the senior team you’ve been disappointed in me! After every single game you always tell me what I need to do better, never once have you said ‘you played well today’ it’s always critical! So I’m sorry that I didn’t want to give you something else to criticise me for.” You turned and slammed the door open. 

After mindless walking, you found the Real Madrid locker room, you knocked before you entered, not wanting to walk in on anyone naked or worse, a useless pep talk. Tere noticed the dry tears straight away, pulling you into her chest and whispering reassurances in your ear. It took a while before you calmed down. 

“Talk to her amor. Listen to her and talk to her. I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?” She kissed your cheek and squeezed your hand before leaving. 

The bus ride was tense. Mapi and Ingrid were talking in hushed voices, occasionally glancing over towards you but you never noticed, too far in your own head. 

“Y/n can we please talk?” Mapi asked nervously after you’d all gotten off the bus. 

“I guess.” You shrugged your shoulders, following her line of sight to see Alexia and Ingrid looking over. 

“I was mad at you for keeping a secret but that wasn’t fair of me. You have every right to keep your relationships private and not tell me.” 

“Okay, good night.” 

“No! Wait! You said, you said I have been disappointed in you since you were called up but that’s not true. Absolutely not true, I am so proud. I’m just scared, scared that they will treat you like they treated me and the others.” She took a deep breath before continuing, “you have always been the biggest light. You are so pure, so full of sunshine and I didn’t want them to take it away from you but in being scared, I didn’t realise I would be the reason that you lost your light. So I’m sorry, so incredibly sorry and I’ll spend everyday making it up to you.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah. Tomorrow Tere and I are going out for breakfast. Do you and Ingrid want to come?” 

“YES!” Mapi shouted, jumping onto you and wrapping her limbs around. 

Breakfast the following morning was tense. Mapi looked angry, Ingrid just ignored her and continued to ask Tere questions to get to know her, actually caring about her answers. 

“Mapi, I need to apologise to you.” Tere said nervously. 

“What?” Mapi looked taken aback. 

“Throughout the whole Las 15 issues I didn’t stand by you. I did things and said things that I regret. I am so sorry for that, if I could I would go back and change everything. Stand by all of you from day one. The club- they wouldn’t let us. It was them or you and I didn’t want to lose my position on the team.” You gave her hand a squeeze for reassurance. It was a conversation that you had both many times. 

“Thanks for apologising. It hurt to know that my own national teammates didn’t have my back. Truly, I wish you all the best but I will never return. I hope you’re looking after my little sister when she’s there.” 

“Of course!” 

“Good because if you hurt her, I will ruin you.” She said it with a big smile on her face and Tere audibly gulped. 

“Maria!” 

It definitely took some time for Mapi to see you as a grown up in a relationship and there were some arguments about the age difference but all in all everything went smoothly. On camp, Mapi made the dinosaurs watch over the both of you. Never allowed to have time alone with Tere. The dinosaurs took her under their wing, just like they had with you. 

[freedomfireflies]

Off the Shelf*

Summary: The second part to 404*

The one where you hate working with Harry and can’t ever seem to agree.

Except on one thing.

Word Count: 3.9k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

(Note: This edit is not mine!! I believe the @ is on it, but full credit to the incredible creator! It's so perfect!!)

“And what seems to be the problem?”

Instantly, you and Harry are at each other's throats.

“I told him two fucking times to check his email for confirmation—”

“She wouldn’t shut up about the goddamn code—”

“—like that’s somehow my fault when he’s never on time—”

“—already in the middle of fucking rewriting the last sequence—”

“—which is ridiculous because I already told him—”

“—can’t do fucking anything when she’s yapping in my ear all goddamn day—”

“Okay, okay, all right,” Mr. Prescott sighs, raising his palms in surrender. “Let’s just take a breath—”

“She’s fucking up our project,” Harry interjects before leaning back. “Sir.”

Mr. Prescott rests his arms on his desk and glances between you. “From what I remember, the two of you agreed to work on finalizing the AI program. Comb through the bugs and whatnot.”

“Yeah, well, that was before he decided it was a waste of his time,” you retort, ignoring Harry’s obvious glare.

“That’s not what I said,” he huffs. “I said that we need to be working on expanding the GUI—”

“Except that wasn’t a part of our job, so—”

“Oh, and what? I can’t try to make the program better?”

“Maybe if you knew how—”

“I got hired for the same fucking job you did—”

“A job you don’t even want to do—”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t do it—”

“Oh, bite me, Harold—”

“All right, all right,” Mr. Prescott interjects, running a hand down his cheek. “Listen, the two of you are more than qualified for the position and perfectly capable of executing the sequence you were designing. I understand it can be hard to collaborate, but this is what you agreed on—”

“I don’t mind collaborating as long as he does what I need him to do,” you correct while Harry scoffs and uses his knuckle to shove his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “He just doesn’t like to listen.”

“If what you were saying was worth listening to, maybe I would,” he agrees. “But until then, I’d like to handle my shit and you can handle yours.”

Stuck without much dispute, you bring your attention back to Mr. Prescott, eager for his response. 

The poor, older gentleman crosses his arms and studies you both, seemingly unconvinced but perhaps too exhausted to fight it. “That’s fine by me. As long as you’re reporting your progress to your supervisors – and to each other – I don’t see why you can’t work on different aspects of the sequence.”

“Thank you, sir,” you exhale, glancing toward your partner who’s already turning around on his heel. “Uh, we really appreciate it. And we won’t cause any more trouble. We swear.”

“She swears,” Harry calls, already halfway out the door. “I don’t swear anything.”

Biting back a snort, you scurry after him and toss Mr. Prescott one final, “Thank you again!” before the door falls shut.

Harry is rounding the corner when you finally catch up, hands shoved into his dark jean pockets, and shoulders slightly tense. It’s not unusual, you suppose. He’s always tense. Muscles rigid beneath his clothing. Lip perpetually stuck between his teeth as he gnaws on the pink fibers until they tear and bleed. And glasses that are always about halfway down his nose from the bouncing of his knee.

He’s striding through the lab like he’s got somewhere important to be, and it drives you fucking mad because he’s technically done for the day. The only thing the two of you have left is a staff meeting with your supervisor before everybody is allowed to head home, and that shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.

But you don’t like when he walks like that. You aren’t sure why, but it’s always irritated you. Like he thinks he’s so goddamn special – so important. Like his presence is so valuable. And even worse, he’s always walking away from you. Like your presence isn’t.

However, instead of going straight to his desk – his favorite hiding spot – he rounds another corner and disappears into the next hall.

You pause, unsure whether or not to follow. He had to have known you were right behind him, so is he leading you somewhere? Or is he simply trying to escape you?

Either option seems likely.

Curiosity outweighs logic, and you continue after him until you manage to find where he’s disappeared to.

He’s hiding in the shadows of the abandoned walkway, lurking near a door you don’t recognize, his eyes now on you.

You skid to a stop, confused and a little cautious of the smirk on his face. “Uh…what? What are you…the hell are you doing?”

“You are so fucking annoying, you know that?” he scoffs, nodding his chin at you. “‘Oh, Mr. Prescott, Harry’s being mean to me. Oh, Mr. Prescott, Harry won’t do what I want.’”

Your eyes narrow at the falsetto tone of voice used to mock you. “Fuck you, I’m just trying to get our shit done and over with so we can move on—”

“Clearly,” he hums, but it’s riddled with sarcasm. “No, yeah. You wasting time going through the same data I’ve already been through is a great use of our time—”

“I’m going through it because I’m trying to make it better—”

“I made it. It was already better—”

“God, you are so fucking dumb—”

“Yeah, and you’re a cunt,” he retorts before he’s reaching for the door and swinging it open. “Get in.”

A bit stunned by the sudden and strange command, you blink. “...what?”

“I said, get. In. What, are you deaf and stupid?”

“Harry, it’s the middle of the goddamn day—”

“Get in the fucking closet, Tinkerbell, before I come over there and make you.”

Your eyes roll but you aren’t about to pretend you aren’t intrigued. Despite your revulsion for him, he seems to be in possession of the cheat code to your sex drive. All it takes is a look or a suggestive comment (or a rather rude demand for you to get inside a tiny storage closet) for you to fall victim to his intentions.

And it’s been that way since you met him. 

Which only makes it that much more infuriating.

You obey – with a pointed scowl – striding past him and into the small space as he follows suit and pulls the door shut.

A light flickers on overhead, allowing you to see Harry’s amused expression as you huff, “Now what—”

He kisses you. Instantly and without a single moment of pause. His palms quickly press to the wall beside your head, caging you between his arms as he takes your tongue between his lip and sucks. 

His glasses are cold against your face. You remember how they used to scratch you when the two of you first started this little arrangement but they don’t as much anymore. You think he might have changed the frames for this very reason, but you aren’t sure.

After all, that would be nice, and Harry isn’t nice.

“Harry—” you pant during a quick gasp for air. “We don’t have time—”

“I’m making time,” he counters, pressing his hips into yours while his mouth moves to your neck.

You want to snort your exasperation, but you’re too far lost in the feel of his body. “I thought you had shit to handle.”

“I do,” he replies smoothly, his hand now curving around your cunt until he can squeeze it tight in his grasp. “This is me handling my shit.”

His touch is unforgiving but incredibly welcome, and you whine softly before quickly reaching for his hair. “I thought I was annoying.”

“You are,” he says, sucking bruises into the space below your ear. “But there’s something about the way you stomp your little foot and tell on me that gets me all hot and bothered.”

You yank on his curls until he hisses, although he’s still much too smug. “So this has nothing to do with the girl who dropped by earlier? Or the fact that you apparently couldn’t finish?”

His eyebrow raises but he’s biting back a smile. “What girl?”

“Ha. Very funny. Are you gonna fuck me or are you gonna try to be cute?”

“Why can’t I do both?” he retorts, grinning wildly before pressing his lips to yours once more. 

It feels familiar, this routine. This dance you’ve so quickly memorized, and it becomes increasingly easier to play along as you scratch your nails against his scalp and tug on the loop of his pants.

His hand slips into your jeans, the tips of his rough fingers smoothing down the front of your panties. A teasing touch, and you jolt in his hold before grabbing onto him harder.

“Harry,” you sigh, lashes fluttering as your head falls back into the wall behind you. “God, just…hurry. Please—”

“No.” It’s an easy response. Cruel, almost. But he’s focused on you. On your body and the way it responds to him. “I’m working right now, Tink. Leave me to it.”

He crouches down, pulling on the fabric around your legs until it pools near your ankles. He seems tantalized by the way your pussy sits so close to his face. The way it looks behind the pale blue cotton with the tiny bow. 

He surges forward and presses his mouth to you. Lapping at the material until there’s a rather obvious wet patch – either from you or him, you can’t really be sure – while making your eyes roll back.

“Shit,” you whimper, once again grabbing onto his curls for stability. “God, Harry…we don’t have time for this.”

He smirks against your cunt before dragging his tongue over your covered clit. “D’ya want me to stop?”

Your lips form around the word, “Yes,” but what comes out is a very strained and breathless, “No. Please, no.”

He grins, large palms kneading on the flesh of your thighs to keep them spread before he lands a firm smack to your leg. “Good girl.”

His technique is sinful. Ruthless yet mesmeric, and you look at him with a kind of wonder you can’t explain.

Harry isn’t anything like what you expected. He’s incredibly smart and focused. He cares about his work to a point of obsession. He’s a perfectionist, through and through. He’s diligent and has a great attention for detail.

And yet this man has the most insatiable appetite for sex. 

His list of kinks is a mile long. He’s out almost every night at bars, at clubs, at parties. He likes degradation, he likes pain, he likes bondage. He likes to bend you over your desk and spank you until your skin is raw and red. He likes to yank on your hair and drag his teeth down your throat. He likes to go deep – likes to go hard and slow. 

You aren’t sure why you assumed he’d be docile and a bit vanilla in bed. Perhaps it was the glasses or the way he always corrected your grammar. Which you know wasn’t exactly a fair assumption, but you didn’t have much else to go on.

Well…until the first time.

“You’re holding your breath,” he murmurs from beneath you, forcing your attention back. “Stop doing that.”

Sucking in a quiet inhale, you oblige. “Sorry.”

You have a rather dangerous habit of taking in large gasps for air when he’s eating you out or making you feel good and then forgetting to release them. Which is all fun and games until you begin to feel a bit lightheaded and nearly pass out. In fact, one time you almost did, and it had scared Harry so bad, he refused to touch you for about a week.

Glancing up to make sure you’ve obeyed, he nods once. “Attagirl.”

Your cheeks warm slightly at the praise – another nasty habit you wish you could break – before he’s diving back in.

Despite the way the seconds are ticking by on your watch, Harry continues to revel in the taste of you, even through your panties. He hums until your legs shake, head bobbing to accompany his mouthing at your pussy.

He enjoys eating you, even like this. He always has and you can’t say you quite understand it. Perhaps it’s the power it gives him. The way you whine and whimper. The way you grab at him and give him everything you have to offer. The way you fucking hate him…yet you still let him in.

“Harry, please,” you nearly groan, tugging on him again. “If you’re gonna fuck me, then fuck me already. We don’t have time.”

He makes a tsking sort of noise before nudging his tongue against the front of your underwear. “God, you’re no fucking fun, you know that? And to think I was actually gonna take my time with you.”

Your expression is playfully unamused, but you can’t deny you’re somewhat curious.

He lands another spank to your leg and stands back up. “But that’s not what you want, huh? You just want me to be quick. Want me to fill you up and send you on your way. Don’t want me to play with you.”

You watch as he flicks his belt open and steps closer to you, a rather salacious look in his eye.

“And wouldn’t that be a shame?” he whispers, long fingers sweeping up the inside of your thigh. “For you to go into that meeting with my cum dripping down your leg? When you can’t do anything about it?”

You feel your breath catch, throat going dry at the way he drags the tip of his nose along your jaw. You want to resist him – you should resist him. And yet… 

“Maybe it would be,” you reply coyly. “If you could get it up.”

To accompany your taunt, you reach down and press your palm to his cock, smirking when he sucks in a sharp hiss through gritted teeth.

“Seems you’ve gone soft on me,” you murmur, squeezing once more for good measure before releasing him. “That’s the real shame.”

The hand beside your head smacks against the wall. “S’cute, Tink. Real fucking cute—”

“Is it because of her?” you ask, straightening up until you can ghost your lips along his. Close, but not close enough. “Could she not take your tiny, little dick down her throat?”

You notice the way he swallows. The way the muscles in his arm flex beside you. The way his lashes flutter angrily from behind his glasses.

“Or could you not get yourself off?” You reach for him again. He's already beginning to harden from your touch – your voice – and despite yourself, your ego swells. “Was it when you were fucking your fist in your car this morning? Were you thinking about her? Is that why you couldn’t get hard?”

Something finally snaps, and instantly, you feel his fingers slipping around your throat. Just hard enough to make you grin. “What if I was thinking about you?”

“Mm. I don’t think so. Said it yourself. If you’re thinking about me…you’re always hard.”

He’s amused by this, squeezing your neck before surging forward to kiss you again. “Naughty little Tinkerbell.”

You smile.

With this, he spins you around and tosses you toward the empty and somewhat dusty bookcase in the corner of the closet. His touch is firm and unrelenting. Perhaps even a little cruel. The way he tugs on your hips as though to punish you. The way he shoves you until you’re bent over the shelf, allowing him access to your body like it’s his right.

And you don’t mind. This is the kind of dominance you’ve come to expect from the quiet yet horny man you work with.

Your underwear is yanked to the ground, the sound of a ripping stitch echoing throughout the small space. You frown but you don’t comment.

His palm smooths along your pussy, cupping it somewhat gently before his thumb flicks across your clit. He just wants to see you jump. Make you whine and push back into his touch. 

You hear him chuckle. “Easy, princess. Gotta make sure you’re ready first.”

“I’m ready, just go,” you huff, staring down at the dust beneath you. 

His finger slides inside your cunt, feeling you out for only a moment before retreating. “I don’t know. Seem a little tense.”

“If I’m with you, I’m tense,” you retort, making him smile. “Go already.”

“Now, now,” he warns, slipping in a second finger. “You wouldn’t rush Picasso, would you?”

You groan. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Harry—”

“What?” He’s enjoying himself. “I’m the painter, and you are my art.”

“No, you’re fucking irritating, that’s what you are.”

“Oh, come on, I thought girls liked sappy analogies like that.”

“No, they like to get fucked. So, hurry up already.”

He lands another smack to your ass before dipping down to whisper, “As you wish.”

You hear the sound of him pulling himself out before you feel the tip of his cock dragging through your arousal. Collecting every drop while slowly pushing in.

He’s right, you are tense. And the stretch that accompanies his large size is enough to make you wince, yet…you love it.

Despite the slight pain, it feels good. Full in every sense of the word, and you focus on the deep breaths you’re taking as your nails begin to curl into the shelf. 

Through clenched teeth, Harry calls, “You okay, Tink?”

“Mhm,” you hum, lashes fluttering shut. “This is easy. In fact, you could go faster, actually.”

He exhales a strained laugh, readjusting his hands on your hips. “Funny.”

“Yeah, I’m hysterical.”

He pushes in a bit further but still slow. He knows your body well enough to know what it can handle. And he understands his size is a touch above average. 

Although he never lets you forget it.

“Being so brave,” he coos with a playful air of condescension. “My brave girl, yeah? Taking it like a champ.”

“Bite me, Styles.”

“Yeah? Just tell me where.”

You get ready to respond, but your remark is ripped from your throat when he suddenly drives in to the hilt. Ripping off the band aid and giving you exactly three seconds to adjust before he begins to fuck you.

The push and pull is everything. The pace, the anger, the pain. His hand is against your scalp, keeping you bent and pliable to his intentions. He’s grunting softly, slowing down just to speed back up. He listens to the noises you make, the way you clench around him. And he uses that to decide what he does next.

Your heart is hammering in your chest and your stomach is doing cartwheels. It’s as though this is the first rush of relief you’ve felt in weeks. Your hands can’t do it. Your vibrator can’t do it. Not even the guy you met at the bar could do it. 

Nobody can do it like he can.

And you fucking hate it.

He lets go of your hair to reach around and slip his hand up your shirt. Finding your tit and giving it a nice squeeze before slapping his palm along the tender flesh. “Oh, you like that, princess, don’t you?”

You nod faintly, whimpering from the subtle sting, silently requesting he do it again. 

So, he does. “S’cute how much you love when I hurt you. Makes me think you might even like me.”

You manage to scoff between unhinged whines. “Shut up, Harry.”

“What? It’s the truth, isn’t it?” he continues. “You like me more than you think you do. That’s why you always do what I ask. Like a good girl.”

You sneak a glimpse over your shoulder, studying the crooked angle of his glasses, and the slight smirk on his face. 

He’s cute, you think. He’s always been kind of cute, but he’s especially cute when he’s ripping you apart from the inside out.

He meets your eye and travels his fingers down to your clit. “Need more, don’t you?”

But you don’t just need more. You need everything. 

He pinches you tight and readjusts his stance to make sure he’s fucking into you at just the right speed. Just the right place to make your back arch and your toes curl. 

“Gonna have to cum for me,” he grits, the graveled request woven between your anxious moans. “You wanted quick, so be fucking quick.”

You nod your agreement, the pleasure at the base of your spine building until it becomes your singular focus. 

You hadn’t realized you were this worked up. Hadn’t anticipated being so close to release after such a short amount of time but maybe Harry was right about something else. Maybe fighting with him is your aphrodisiac.

The first few sparks explode behind your eyelids, taunting you with more as he begins to groan softly from behind you. 

“Fucking shit—” His hips are slapping into your ass, the sound of your arousal being fucked into you by his cock like music to your ears. “There you go, princess. Just like that – keep squeezing me. Yeah…fuck.”

He’s close and you clench around him to get him closer, needing to feel him fill you more than you need air in your lungs. 

When he does, it tips the rest of the dominos. One after the other until everything is falling apart. The warmth of his cum inside of you, the pulsing of his cock in your pussy, the scattering of pleasure between your thighs.

And he sounds so beautiful. Rough and exceedingly desperate. The most perfect, delicious sound and it makes your stomach flip in the most excruciating way. You could listen to him for hours. Could get off to his voice alone, the way he grunts and moans for you. The way he says your name through a heated curse and spanks his hand along your ass.

“S’fucking good, Tink,” he exhales, tightening his hold on your waist to keep you upright and steady. “Milk me, baby, come on. Fucking take it.”

You can feel him dripping down your legs. Can feel the heat and the soreness already settling but you thrive off it. Indulge in the way he takes care of you for a moment more before finally pulling out and turning you around.

He checks your face for signs of distress. Brows furrowed and expression scrutinous from behind his glasses. You can tell he’s got another sarcastic comment locked and loaded but before he can fire it, you reach up, and slip the frames from his nose.

Then, you kiss him. Hard and with fervor. It’s oddly passionate – perhaps filled with the lingering frustration from your previous altercation. But you don’t mind. It feels like him.

After a minute or two, you pop off his tongue, return his glasses to nose, and shove him back. “And now we’re gonna be late.”

He smiles to himself, stepping closer once more to run his thumb just beneath your eye. Collecting what you assume are dried tears and runny mascara. “Oops.”

However, before you can pull your jeans back on, Harry is crouching down and grabbing onto the material for you.

He pulls your panties up and secures them around your hips, ignoring the sticky cum beginning to seep out of your pussy. 

Confused, your eyes narrow. “Har—"

“I told you,” he says calmly while zipping your jeans. “You’re gonna go into that meeting with me inside you.”

You feel your heart skip.

“But maybe if you’re good,” he whispers before looking up with a devious wink, “…I’ll do something about it.”

Next Part:

~ SnakeBite*

Previous Part:

~ 404*

~ Full 404 Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo Ending Three: Flying the Coop

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

I am no longer doing tags. Tumblr hates me and I’d rather not waste my time when there are so many! You can keep up to date on Twisted Zoo on Tumblr, Quotev, Wattpad, or AO3.

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Note: For Tumblr, the mature version of the endings (the afterendings) will begin sometime after I finish all the normal endings.

Note 2: Tumblr was originally told that all the birds would have one ending, but I have decided to split them up into three endings (The Price of Beauty and Birds of a Feather alongside this one)

The sky was overcast today, your sunny mood not matching the dark gray, cloudy sky. As you approached the dome where the birds resided, you decided to check on the damage. 

You still found it hard to believe the birds had made any damage to metal. But surely Mr. Crowley wouldn’t lie to you. 

There were guards stationed outside the area of the dome that had been damaged. A white tarp fluttered in the cold breeze, making it impossible for you to see the extent of what the birds had done. 

The guards gave you a respectful nod as you passed by. Their eyes didn’t seem to leave you, even as you walked farther and farther away. You shook off the thought, assuming you were imagining things after everything Mr. Crowley had said.

You opened the door to the dome and immediately noticed the difference in the air. Tense, as though something was coiling tightly around you, ready to snap. You looked towards the damage but another white tarp covered the entire area. The rest of the enclosure was the same- the marsh where the flamingos lived, the bright green grassy expanse for the peacocks, and the individual cages for the-

Where was Deuce, Ace, and Trey? The raven, parrot, and owl’s cages were all empty, the doors ripped off their hinges. The bird houses were covered in deep scars, as if talons had scratched every inch of the wood.

And then you spotted them.

Ace gave you an enthusiastic wave, but Deuce and Trey remained serious, all three staring at you. Even from a distance, you could see their pupils were blown wide. Something was wrong with them.

With a gulp, you tried to force your legs to move, but you were frozen between approaching them and seeing what was wrong or fleeing. The trio began approaching you and your heart stopped in your chest altogether.

“Hey, (Y/n),” Ace said with a wide grin, his sharp eyes locked on you without blinking even once, “Did you come to check out the damage?”

You nodded despite your fear, feeling a shiver run up your spine as Trey and Deuce split off and began to circle you. Their wings were tucked tightly to their bodies, but occasionally twitched as though they wanted to spread them.

“Have you done any more damage?” you managed to ask.

Trey smiled pleasantly, “Would you believe us if we said ‘no’?”

Deuce, who was normally quiet, spoke up, “No harm meant. We want more space.”

“Space?” You looked at them curiously, trying to ignore the twisting in your stomach, “Why would you need more space?”

As soon as the question left your lips you felt stupid. Ace laughed, “Birds aren’t meant to be in cages. Do you think we’re supposed to stay in the little spaces Crowley and his goons made for us?”

“Isn’t that what you agreed to?” you asked.

“We were happy with it… until now,” Ace explained, “But we’ve grown restless ever since you arrived.”

You glanced back at the enclosure door and instead was met with the sight of a smirking Trey. He had positioned himself between you and the only exit. Before you could truly panic, Deuce was wrenching your arms behind your back and clapping a hand over your mouth.

Trey gave you a closed-eyed smile, “We want to talk.” He opened his eyes, his smile twisting into a devious smirk, “About you coming with us.”

Deuce’s thumb brushed circles against your cheek, trying to soothe you, while Ace gave you an earnest look, “What’s the point of escaping if you aren’t with us?”

So it wasn’t really about escaping- it was about claiming you. Mr. Crowley’s speech came back to you. “They will especially latch on to anyone who shows them true kindness.” 

You tried to pull your wrists free and began to frantically shake your head. You managed to slip from Deuce’s grasp over your mouth and wailed, “Come with you? Are you crazy? I can’t just-”

“Actually, you can,” Ace snickered, “After all, you don’t have a choice in the matter.” He leaned in close, his voice a conspiratorial whisper as a hunger swirled in his overblown pupils, “We’ve been working on this escape for a while, and guess what, sweetheart? Today’s the day.”

You began to squirm in Deuce’s ironclad grip, “I’m not going anywhere with you guys! I’m just a researcher- I didn’t sign up for this. Help! Security! Please! HELP!”

Ace laughed loudly, “They won’t help you, trust me.” His stare became a bit more gentle, “Look, you’ve been taking care of us for so long, now it’s our turn to care for you.”

Deuce’s wings twitched with barely restrained excitement, “Don’t fight. Be a good girl.”

“Yeah,” Ace agreed with a wicked grin, “We went through all this trouble because we love you! Isn’t that sweet?”

“Sweet?” you wailed, “It’s insanity, that’s what this is! Now let me go before you get in trouble!”

“Trouble? In trouble with who?” Ace tilted his head, pretending to be confused, “No, no, you have it wrong, silly. We’re not the ones who will be in trouble.”

“Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” A tear trickled down your cheek as you began to thrash in Deuce’s grip, “I’m really sorry!”

Deuce leaned in to your ear, “You not need to be sorry.”

Trey spoke up behind you, “We’ll be free. All of us.”

Ace picked up a vine from the floor and motioned for Deuce to hand you over. You let out a scream for help, but when you looked towards the guards outside the dome, you realized they hadn’t so much as flinched.

No one was coming to save you.

As soon as your wrists were bound tightly, Trey took flight, his talons quickly curling into your shoulders and under your arms. Ace and Deuce joined him in the air and you were lifted off the ground.

There was no point in screaming anymore and your voice hurt. Instead, you cried softly to yourself as the bird halflings blew through the white tarps like they weren’t even there. The damage was so extensive that it was basically a giant hole for them to fly easily through.

From the ground, Mr. Crowley waved goodbye to you, a smile on his face as though he was pleased to see you being dragged into the sky.

The gloomy sky finally matched your mood.

[thewritingrowlet]

The Twins and Their Queens pt. 2, ft. STAYC Seeun

tags: blowjob, creampie, hot seat

length: 8k+

author's note: sorry, I've been pretty busy with work and other irl stuff.

-

“Did he just—”

You nearly can’t believe your ears. Your brother just so nonchalantly admitted that his wife was sucking him off. You scratch your head, only realizing now that you should’ve taken the time difference into account before calling him—you could’ve called earlier (or perhaps later) and not caught them having sex.

“I mean, it’s not like it’s illegal,” Seeun breaks the silence, “they’re consenting adults and legally married, aren’t they?” “I know, but still, I don’t feel comfortable hearing such words from him—it somewhat feels disrespectful, too,” you say. She moves to kneel between your legs that are dangling off the edge of the bed. “If you’re not comfortable hearing it, perhaps you’re comfortable receiving it?” You take a deep breath so that you can turn your focus on your girlfriend. “Perhaps,” you say with a smile, “please, noona.”

Seeun frees you of your joggers, pulling down your boxers together as she does. “Oh, you’re ready for noona, aren’t you?” You inhale sharply as you feel her soft hands stroking your shaft. “I’m always ready for you, noona; I’m your boyfriend after all.” “I never thought I’d date someone younger than me,” she chuckles, “anyway, time for my breakfast.”

Your girlfriend takes your tip in her mouth, her gaze still locked with yours. “Please,” you say, almost too quietly. She winks at you and starts going down your length, the wetness of her mouth giving you goosebumps everywhere. “That’s so good, fuck,” a praise flies out of your lips as you pet her head gently. One of the many things you’ve learned about Seeun is that she loves praise. To her, it’s like getting a shot of excitement and confidence that gives her the spirit to do her best, especially during sex.

Today is no different, obviously. With your encouraging praise circling in her head, she finds the determination to take the entirety of your shaft in her mouth, and you can feel the tip of your cock hitting the back of her throat. “Fuck, that’s crazy,” you mindlessly comment. She removes you from her mouth and promptly takes a deep breath. “You liked that, didn’t you, baby?” You reach for her face and wipe some tears off her cheeks. “Of course I did, but you don’t have to force yourself to tears like this,” you say. Seeun rubs her cheek against your palm like a cat. “You’re so sweet, baby—you might be young, but you certainly don’t lack kindness and maturity,” she assesses. You chuckle. “Please, I’m only 10 months younger than you.”

Seeun says that she wants to finish the job and won’t take no for an answer, so you sit still and let her do what she wants with you. If she prioritized going deep earlier, she now opts to go fast, eager to make you cum first thing in the morning. “Fuck,” you let a profanity fly out of your lips when you feel her tongue running back and forth on the underside of your cock. “I really can’t last long if you keep doing it like this,” you say. “Feew fwee fo cuw,” she utters unintelligibly, and you guess that you’re welcome to cum whenever.

You know that you’re inching closer towards your first orgasm as time goes. “Noona,” you utter with heavy breaths, “please, I’m so close.” Seeun plants her hands on your knees and starts bobbing her head faster, and that’s when an idea enters your mind: what if you thrust forward and meet her in the middle?

To find out, you place your hands on the back of her head and thrust forward, timing it with her movements to ensure maximum pleasure. “Fuck, this is crazy,” you think. With a grunt, you send your first load of the day into her mouth, and Seeun does her best to not panic as her mouth and throat are flooded. After your shaft has stopped spurting out every last drop of your cum, she removes you from her mouth and swallows everything swiftly.

You fall backwards limply onto your back. “We were supposed to get breakfast,” you say weakly. Seeun giggles. “I don’t know about you, but I did get my breakfast.” She joins you in bed and pulls you into her warm embrace. “You did so well, noona—maybe too well,” you praise her one more time. “Aww, you’re so sweet, babe,” she replies, peppering your head with kisses after.

-

You take a lap around the buffet area while holding hands with Seeun, checking out what options you have for breakfast. “Anything catches your fancy, babe?” She asks as her eyes scan the bread counter. “I want that,” you point at a jar of blueberry jam, “I’ll get that on a toast first and then figure out what I’m eating next.” Seeun pouts. “I don’t like blueberry jam—I want peanut butter.”

Without breaking the tangle, you grab a slice of bread, put some butter on it, and drop it in the toaster. Seeun then does the same, which makes you realize something. “Sometimes I forget that you’re left-handed,” you comment. She giggles cutely. “There’s a reason I’m always on your left, babe.”

A ding from the toaster steals your attention, and when you look, both your and her slice of bread are cooked perfectly. “Remind me to get a toaster when we get back, noona—I want to have toasts every morning.” You place the toasts side by side on the same plate, and as unfortunate as it is, you have to let go of her hand. Seeun lets out a grunt to express her disapproval, but you make sure to quickly tend to your toast and then return your hand to its previous position. “I’d like to see you spread peanut butter on your toast with one hand,” you challenge her. She clicks her tongue in playful mockery and quickly smear peanut butter on her toast. “Do you want to see me do it again?”

You look at your surroundings to see if there are people nearby—there’s only that couple sitting at that table in the far corner of the dining area. You pull your girlfriend by her hand until she’s right in front of you. “I love you, Yoon Seeun—I love you lots.” Your words draw a big smile on her face. “I love you too, babe,” she replies, “are you going to kiss me, or no?” Such a question requires no verbal answer—why use your lips to say your answer, if you can use them to show your answer instead?

You hum in satisfaction when you feel her soft lips gently pinching yours, and you swear that time has stopped ticking for you to really savor the intimacy of the kiss. The tangle feels even more complete when you feel Seeun’s palm on your chest. All the while, your heart is screaming at her, “I love you! I love you with everything I have!”

Seeun pulls away from the kiss, leaving you stunned for a short moment. “Let’s have breakfast first, babe—we can figure out what to do after.” Her voice snaps you out of your stupor. “Yeah,” you shake your head to regain focus, “yeah, let’s have breakfast.” You scan your surroundings again and see that there’s a woman around your brother’s age looking at you and your girlfriend, but she breaks eye contact when your eyes briefly meet. “We are both consenting adults; this is fine,” you tell yourself.

You sit at a table near the buffet with Seeun, pulling back a chair for her first before sitting down yourself. “I don’t know how people can dislike blueberry jam,” you comment as you chew your first mouthful. “It’s hit-or-miss most of the time; sometimes it’s too sweet and tastes artificial, other times it’s… meh,” she argues. As you think about her argument, you realize that this jam is indeed quite sweet. “Yeah, it is kind of sweet,” you admit. “Your girlfriend is already sweet enough—why look for other sweet things?” “Says the blushing girl,” you counter, earning a little kick under the table from Seeun.

-

“Mr. Moon, we’re ready; we’re near the buses,” you say to Mr. Moon, your family’s chauffeur, over the phone. “Please wait a second, sir,” he replies. You look to your right where traffic starts and see your car making the turn towards the passenger pickup lane—perhaps not a second but he’s still pretty quick.

With the help of Mr. Moon, you and Seeun put your stuff in the trunk. “Where to now, sir?” You ask him to first make a stop at your apartment building so that your girlfriend can rest and then take you to Han Group’s company building after that. “Of course, sir,” he says.

Once the car starts rolling, Seeun rests her head on your thighs. “Ugh,” she grunts. Her long legs must be bent because of the limited space of the car’s interior. “We’ll get home soon, love—please be patient,” you whisper, comforting her with soft pets on the head.

-

“Excuse me, sir,” Mr. Moon breaks the silence, “we’re here.” You didn’t know that you fell asleep, and when you look around, you see that you’re parked in front of your apartment building. You poke Seeun to get her to wake up, but she doesn’t budge. “I’ll take her upstairs and then come back to you, Mr. Moon.”

You pull Seeun out of the car and put her on your shoulder. Your same-floor neighbors (and a bunch of others) know that you’re dating her, so you don’t have to worry about explaining why you’re carrying her limp body like an abductor. That said, considering the time and day, there shouldn’t be too many people at this building.

You make it to your unit after a short elevator ride and walk. While Seeun lies asleep in bed, you write down a note for her to read when she wakes up. The note reads,

“Love, darling, sweetie,

You fell asleep in the car so we went home first so that you could sleep more comfortably in our bed. In the meantime, I’ll be in the office and talk to the big boss about some stuff.

Please don’t panic. I’ll be home soon.

Yours always,

Shaun.”

For good measure, you poke her a few times until she shows signs of consciousness. “Noona, I’ll be at the office for a bit; I need to make a quick report to my brother. See you later, okay?” Seeun lets out a hum through the tiny gap of her lips, and you’d like to think that she’s got the message. “Cool,” you put on a thumbs-up for yourself, “see you later, noona.”

-

Harvey’s secretary has told you that he’s still in his office, so you swiftly make your way there and deliver some news that you think he’d like to hear.

You knock on his door and promptly hear him telling you to come in. As you enter, your eyes land on the gap between the hanging back support of his desk and the floor—there’s a woman kneeling between his legs. “For your sake, Mr. Han, I seriously hope that’s Yooyeon-noona,” you comment in a serious tone. Harvey smiles at you, and that’s when you see his wife getting on her feet. “H-Hi, Shaun,” she greets you with red cheeks.

“First, you told me oh-so-casually that time that she was sucking you off, and now, you told me to walk in while she’s sucking you off,” you let your annoyance be known. “Where’s your respect for me, Han Hyunjin—shit, better yet, where’s your respect for your wife?” You don’t say your brother’s name in full a lot, so he knows the seriousness of it when you actually do. “Shaun, please, I’m sorry,” he tries to quench your fire, “I don’t—” “Just zip up your fucking pants and talk to me when you’re actually ready. I’ll wait outside with Miss Park—don’t worry, I won’t ask her to suck my dick.”

You storm out of his office huffing and puffing, ignoring his calls to stay, feeling annoyed and disappointed with how your brother behaves (especially since it’s still working hours). “Sir? Are you okay?” Miss Park nervously looks at you when she sees you crashing into the chair on the other side of her desk. “I am, Shion-ah. My problem is with my brother, not with you, so don’t worry,” you say, still panting heavily from the emotions.

The landline on her desk rings. “Good afternoon. Park Shion speaking,” she says into her phone. After a short conversation, you hear her say, “Yes, sir; I will inform him so.” “Mr. Han, the director is ready for you,” she forwards the message to you. You take a few deep breaths to calm down before leaving your seat. “Thank you, Shion-ah.”

You don’t bother knocking this time, opting to just push the door as wide as it’ll open. “Shaun,” Harvey says calmly, “please come in.” Seeing red, you rush towards your brother who’s standing in front of his desk. Yooyeon stands in the middle of you and him, acting as a barrier to make sure no one hurts the other. “You sent me to New York and told me to come see you right after I got back, and this is how you welcome me? I just got off the damn plane, you asshole!”

Yooyeon plants her hands on your chest and gently pushes you backwards. “Shaun, please don’t yell at your brother like that,” she says in a trembling voice, tearing up as she does, “the idea was mine, so please blame me.” You roll your eyes and move to take a seat. “I don’t want to waste more time; I have a girlfriend to take care of—do you want to hear this report or not?”

Harvey reaches his hand out towards your shoulder, but you slap it away. “Believe me, you don’t want to touch me right now,” you warn him. You can tell that he’s very hurt by your attitude, but this will be a valuable lesson to everyone. “Okay,” he wipes his glassy eyes, “please start, Mr. Han.”

After calming down, you open your mouth and start briefing him on the tasks you’ve accomplished during the New York trip. You had a meeting with Bloom Inc. at their office, and without prior briefing, you found out that Bloom had invited one of their partners, Han Industries, that had previously expressed their interest in joining the partnership with us and Bloom. “Han? Like us?” You nod. “Big boss is named Han Jinwoo,” you tell him. “If you remember the OreQuest uproar from a few years ago, that’s one of his companies.” Harvey nods, seemingly deep in thoughts. “We’ll have to look into it more. Thank you, Shaun, you did very well.” You wiggle your index finger. “I want a bonus for this; it wasn’t easy, you know.” “Say your numbers and I’ll figure it out,” he adheres to your demand.

You stand up from your seat and hand him a flash drive. “There’s some stuff in there that you might want to look at.” As you make your way out of his office, you remember something. “Oh, I almost forgot—happy anniversary.” Harvey accepts your message with a small smile, so you turn your back again and continue walking out of his office.

Yooyeon chases you outside and holds your wrist to stop your fast steps. “Shaun, I’m sorry,” she says, “I’m not a bad influence on your brother, though, I swear.” You shrug. “It’s not me you should be apologizing to—it’s yourself. Give yourselves some more respect and don’t talk about sex so openly and carelessly next time because I, for example, don’t give a shit.”

-

You arrive at your apartment again after meeting your brother. When you open the bedroom door, you see that Seeun is in the same position you left her in: right in the center of the bed with her head on a pillow. “Well, at least you’re dressed comfortably.”

After getting changed yourself, you’re now ready to join her in bed. You slowly climb onto her body and rest your head on her chest. “Noona, I’m home,” you whisper. “Baby,” you hear a whisper back from her, “welcome home.” You can feel all the exhaustion that has been weighing down on your body starting to melt away. “You’re so warm, noona.” Seeun doesn’t say anything this time—unfortunate but understandable; she’s sleeping, after all.

-

Soft pets on the back of your head make you stir awake. “Baby, you’re home,” Seeun says in a soft tone. “How long have you been here for?” Your partially awake brain can’t comprehend her question. “Sorry?” Your girlfriend chuckles. “Ah, don’t worry about it. You’re here with me, and that’s the most important thing right now.”

You yawn audibly. “I’m tired, noona.” The pets she’s giving get more intense, as if trying to scrub the tiredness off your body. “Oh, baby, what can I do for you?” “Just stay like this, please,” you say.

This is what you’re looking for in dating someone older than you: relying on someone and being taken care of when you need it. Now, of course, you try and not forget about your part, and make sure you can be that reliable person and take care of your significant other, Seeun, when she needs it.

“Noona,” you move on to the next subject, “you know how my brother asked me to see him right after we arrived, right?” “Yeah, and you went to the office earlier for that—what about it?” You told her how you walked in to the sight of him getting a blowjob from his wife and how angry you got because of it. “It felt disrespectful, you know; we just arrived in the city and shit.” “Language, baby,” she says softly. “I understand why you were frustrated, but still.” You can’t help but sigh. “I made it clear to them that I don’t give a fu—erm, frick—about their sex life and that I don’t want to see anything like that again.”

Seeun says that she’s satisfied with how you handled the situation but also wishes you had had more self-control. You want to protest, but you decide against it; it’s probably best to just accept her words and put it behind you. “I’m sorry for venting at you like that—I mean, you just woke up,” only now do you feel bad about this. Seeun kisses your head repeatedly while assuring you that it’s fine and that she’d rather have you talk about it and quickly move on.

You lift your head off her chest and look at right in the eyes. “I love you, noona,” you say, “like, I love, love, love you.” “I love you too, baby,” she says, a big grin decorating her beautiful features. “Eh, actually, I love you more,” Seeun corrects herself.

“Baby,” Seeun calls for your attention, “can we get something to eat?” “We can—what do you want to have?” She taps her chin as she thinks about it. “Can we get fried chicken?” You’re reminded that she has been craving fried chicken since before going to New York. “We sure can, noona,” you agree to her suggestion.

With a grunt, you gather your might and get off her body, and that is you see a pout on her face. “What’s wrong?” Seeun crosses her hands. “I didn’t say we should go there ourselves,” she gives you a hint. You blink a few times as you think about what she’s trying to say. “Oh,” you palm your face as realization hits, “you want them delivered here, don’t you, noona?” Seeun bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, your face is soooo funny.” She pulls you into her arms again. “You’re so cute, I swear to God,” she says, still giggling.

-

The food delivery app says that your orders have been dropped off outside your door.

Seeing that Seeun is peacefully sleeping, you go get the goodies yourself. You put the big bag on the dining table and unpack it. “Honey barbecue and sweet-n-spicy—nice, we have everything.”

You hear the bedroom door swing open, and when you look, you see your sleepy girlfriend, whose eyes are barely open, standing at the door. You come in for a kiss, which is your favorite way to get her to wake up, and as expected, Seeun puts a hand on your chest, like she usually does. “So soft,” she mutters, “your kiss always feels—” You interrupt her with one more kiss—one that’s deeper and more passionate. “Okay, you need to stop right there, young man, or you’re going to have to take responsibilities,” she warns.

You drag her by her hand towards the dining table that you’ve organized for her. “I have some honey barbecue chicken for you, noona,” you say, your voice laced with excitement. Based on her expressions, you notice that something is amiss. “No fries,” Seeun utters softly. “Oh my God, I forgot.” You slap your forehead for forgetting to order fries. “Would you like to have fries, noona? We can place another order,” you offer her a solution. Your girlfriend shakes her head. “No, it’s fine, baby,” she declines. “Come, let’s eat.”

Seeun lets out a high-pitched hum at the first taste. “Amazing as always,” she says with a full mouth. The way she’s eating makes you hungry beyond measure, so you pick up a piece from your box and immediately take a bite. “Meh,” you’re underwhelmed, “not as spicy as usual.” “Receipt says it’s level 1, babe,” says Seeun. “Level 1? I didn’t choose level 1,” you furrow your eyebrows. You don’t know how it ended up like this or who is at fault, but you’re not really in the mood to figure it out, so you grab a bottle of hot sauce from the pantry and make it to your liking. “Yeah, this is more like it,” you comment at the revised taste.

Seeun’s phone lights up and shows a floating notification on the lock screen. “Your brother is inviting us to his house tomorrow,” she says. You are disappointed that he’s avoiding you and opting to reach you through Seeun, but it’s also understandable since he doesn’t want to risk making you angry again. “For—” “Shane and Jiwoo are engaged, and your brother wants to celebrate it together,” she interrupts you with additional information. “Good for them; Shane is so in love with her.”

“What about you?” Seeun’s question forces you to stop eating and drop your chicken. “Excuse me?” “Are you in love with me?” In your head, there’s only one answer, which is yes, you are in love with her, but you first refrain from saying it—what if she’s hinting at something else? “Yes,” you start, “I am in love with you and would love to stay with you long term.” Your firm and resolute tone provides assurance that you mean it wholeheartedly. “Great to hear,” she says with a smile.

You take a deep breath before continuing your point. “Noona, if you’re wondering when I’ll be proposing to you, then the answer is soon. I’m still working on becoming the best version of myself, because you deserve the best of me, the same way I deserve the best of you.” Seeun puts on a sweet smile for you. “I know, baby, but at the same time, you don’t have to worry about it too much—you’re already such a nice person, you know.”

You thank her for the flattery, but you know that you still need to work on your patience (among other things); it could be disastrous if at one point you lash out at Seeun the same way you did at your brother. “Hey, baby,” Seeun steals your attention, “I told you, don’t worry about it—you’ll be just fine.”

-

You find yourself lying in bed with Seeun after finishing those boxes of chicken. She says she wants to switch and be on top this time, so you take the position on the bottom. “It’s nice to change every now and then, isn’t it, babe?” “It sure is—I must admit, though, I like cuddling you from the top.” Seeun pinches your cheek. “You like it because you can lie on my breasts, you little pervert.” You burst out laughing. “Well, you caught me.”

“Speaking of breasts,” she plants her hands on your chest, “I want you, baby—please.” “Really?” It doesn’t hurt to make sure (or perhaps tease). Seeun sticks her lips on your neck to show you that she’s serious. “Oh, you really want me, don’t you?” The answer to your question is the increased intensity of stimulation on your neck. “Noona, not too much, please; we still have work tomorrow,” you try to make her stop.

Seeun leaves your neck and hovers closely over your face. “If you bring up work in bed again, I will put a tape on your mouth,” she threatens. “Noona, what are you talking about? What is this?” You’re concerned about how she’s acting, because this isn’t how you and she do things usually. Even on days when she’s very desperate for your touch, she never talks like this.

Seeun closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Just… please don’t bring up work; I’m just desperate for your touch,” she rearranges her words. You place a hand on the side of her face, rubbing it gently. “That’s more like it,” you say, “you know I’ll always try to be available for you, but you need to ask kindly, noona.” With teary eyes, Seeun apologizes profusely, and even though you assure her that it’s okay, she just wouldn’t stop.

“Oh, God, what’s wrong with me,” tears escape her eyes in abundance, “you’re trying to become the best man you can while I’m being such a terrible woman.” “Oh, love,” you pull out a new endearment from the bag, “please, don’t say such thing; you were just too eager—” No!” Seeun screams, denying your attempt at comforting her. “I-I’m a bad girlfriend and deserve to be punished.”

Seeun pulls you into a sitting position before bending over your lap. “Punish me, love.” “Punish you how? I already told you that it’s okay,” you reason. “Just do it, please—make me take responsibilities.” “Fine, if you insist.” You pull down her shorts, thus exposing her soft and round butt cheeks, and rub them gently. “God, I really don’t want to hurt her.” As if hearing your thoughts, Seeun tells you to “make it hurt.”

You lift a hand while your eyes stay locked on the target. “Here I go, love,” you signal. You close your eyes and take a swing at her butt, and the scream she lets out at the impact is heartbreaking. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you take your turn to apologize. “That was too hard, wasn’t it, love?” Seeun shakes her head. “N-no, that was good—do it again, babe; we’re not even yet.”

You lift your hand again and place your gaze on the target—the previous hit has left a red mark in the shape of your palm, and you swear that your heart is being wrung like wet laundry. “Love, here I go again,” you signal, tearily this time. Seeun braces for impact, and you take a swing right there. “Fuck, that was too hard,” you regret failing to control your strength. “Can we stop now? I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Seeun says she doesn’t want to end on an even number and asks to be hit once again, much to your anguish. You decide to do it quickly this time so that you can just move on to helping her cope with the pain you’ve caused. “FUCK!” She screams one last time after the last hit, marking the end this whole “punish me” show.

“Love—my love,” you gently pull her into your arms, seated on your lap. “I’m sorry, that must’ve hurt so bad, right?” “T-that’s okay, I deserved it,” she insists. “No, you don’t,” you insist back. “I hated that shit, noona. I don’t want to hurt you like that ever again.” “I-I mean, it’s good to know that y-you’re capable of it. Who knows if one day we might need to do it again?” No, you’re certain that you would never need to do it again, but there’s no point in making another counterargument at the moment; you’d rather spend your energy in helping her recover.

-

Sleeping counts as recovering, doesn’t it, because that’s what you and Seeun have been doing for a few hours now—at least until you’re awoken at this odd hour, and for some reason, you feel refreshed and are wide awake.

Your senses pick up the signs of her presence with no trouble; her smell is in your nose, her subtle snores are in your ears, and her skin is touching yours (not the entirety of but still enough).

You place one hand on her butt that you hit thrice a few hours ago, hoping that doing so will make you feel less bad about it. “I’m so sorry about that, my love,” you whisper softly right into her ear. You’re slightly startled when you hear a hum from Seeun, but no, she’s still asleep.

An idea enters your mind: what if you try singing for her? You’re somewhat okay at singing and there’s this song that you’ve been obsessed with recently. You clear your throat slightly to prepare, and here goes nothing:

Be my only one

이렇게 부르고 싶은 이름 내 곁에 (The name I want to call you by)

손을 잡고서 같이 걸어요 (Let’s hold hands and walk along)

비가 오는 밤에도, 외로웠던 낮에도 (On rainy nights, or on lonely daytimes)

그대 환한 빛깔을 내게 가득 칠해줘요 (Please color me with your shiny light)

내가 더 잘할게요, 이렇게 같이 있어준다면 (I’ll do better, if you stay with me like this)

You let out a giggle after singing out that short bit; there’s something exciting about singing to your beloved lady while she’s asleep. “Good… voice,” you hear Seeun whisper quietly. “I love you, baby, and I mean every word I just said.” It’s fine if she doesn’t say anything back; at least you’ve gotten it off your chest.

Much to your surprise, Seeun gives you a peck on the side of your face. “I love you, baby.” “Are you awake, love?” You feel her nodding against your cheek. “How can I sleep when my boyfriend sings for me?” Her praise makes you blush. “Oh, it’s nothing—I’m glad you liked it, though.”

“What time is it, babe?”

“I don’t know, but it’s probably a few hours before sunrise.”

“I want to sleep again.”

You pet her back like she was a baby you’re trying to send to sleep. “Let’s go back to sleep, love. We’ll let the alarms wake us up.” Seeun yawns aloud. “Promise me that you’ll touch me tonight.” “We’re going to my brother’s house tonight, no?” She grunts. “Surely you’re not rejecting me.” “We’ll see what we can do after we get back from his house, okay? I can promise you that, love.” She yawns once again. “Deal.”

-

You knock on the bedroom door and ask if she’s ready to leave for your brother’s house. “Come here, babe, please,” she says from the other side of the door. You enter to see if she needs help choosing what to wear. “What’s—oh.” Seeun hasn’t put on any clothes yet. “Why are you naked, love?” You ask while your eyes scan her from top to bottom.

She approaches you with open arms, wrapping them around you when she’s within hugging distance. “I was trying to see if maybe you’re in the mood for a quick one,” she says. You put on a soft smile for her. “It’s not that I’m not in the mood, love, but you know that I’d rather have a longer session,” you try to convince her to save it for later. Seeun shakes her head. “You’re really lucky I love you; otherwise, I’d leave you for denying me sexual pleasures.” “I’m not denying you anything, love,” you make sure your voice is as gentle as possible. “I’m just asking you to be patient,” you say, despite how you’re starting to get hard.

Convinced, Seeun asks you to leave the bedroom so that she can put on some clothes. “I’m asking you to be patient, he says,” Seeun airs her frustration into the empty bedroom. “You’re really lucky I love you, Shaun.” She clears her head of other thoughts and turns her focus on choosing what clothes to wear tonight. Seeun opts for a plain white T-shirt paired with a black cardigan. She also puts on brown canvas pants to complete the look.

-

When you arrive at Harvey’s house, you see that Shane’s car is parked in the driveway, leaving one vacant space for you since Harvey’s is probably kept in the garage. You quickly pull in next to Shane’s car and get out of yours with Seeun. “This feels like a reunion,” Seeun comments.

As you’re about to knock on the door, it swings open, thus revealing the man of the house on the other side. “Welcome, Shaun—thanks for coming,” Harvey greets you with open arms, and you wonder if he’s moved on from your lashing out. You think that it wouldn’t hurt to hug him (it is the usual form of greeting among you and your brothers, anyway). “The pleasure is mine, hyung,” you say softly into his ear.

Harvey lets you free and then turns to Seeun. “Hi, cookie,” he greets her. “How was New York?” “It was cool, oppa; I couldn’t have enough of the food.” He chuckles. “Well, we can exchange stories later. Let’s get inside for now, hm?”

Harvey leads you to the dining room, where Yooyoen, Shane, and Jiwoo are waiting for you. “Shaun,” Yooyeon greets you awkwardly. You approach her and pull her into a quick hug. “I’m sorry for yelling at you,” you whisper to her. “That’s okay; I understand where you were coming from,” she whispers back. “Have a seat, Shaun.”

You sit next to Shane while Seeun sits right across you and next to Jiwoo, who immediately leans against her shoulder. As the man and woman of the house, Harvey and Yooyeon sit at opposing ends of the rectangular table that’s full of food. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Harvey starts. “We are gathered here today to celebrate Shane and Jiwoo’s engagement and to wish them luck and happiness in their new stage of life.”

You put an arm around Shane from the side. “I left the two of you to go to New York for a few days, and you took a head start, Shane?” “Look, man,” he whispers back, “it was a mess, ‘kay? I was so stumped and proposed on the damn sofa.” Nonetheless, you congratulate him on the engagement and wish him happiness, just like a good (twin) brother.

“Shane,” Harvey’s voice captures your and his attention, “do you have anything to say, maybe to us or to your fiancé?” Shane clears his throat and opens his mouth. “First, I’d like to thank everyone for coming; it means a lot for me and Jiwoo to have your support and affection. Second, I’d like to publicly promise my dear fiancé that I’ll prioritize our happiness over everything else; you know that you mean the world to me, love.” Harvey chuckles. “Even over your brothers?” Shane shrugs. “My brothers are their own men; they can go and figure things out themselves.”

Harvey gives Jiwoo the chance to speak, which she takes after assembling her thoughts. “I know he’s said it already, but I also would like to thank everyone for the support and kindness.” Her glance meets yours as she scans her surroundings. “I haven’t seen Shaun-oppa and Seeun-unnie in a while, so it’s great to have them again.” You show her a kind smile, because that’s how a proper welcome looks and feels.

As soon as her butt lands on her seat again, Jiwoo bursts out in tears, making Seeun panic—Yooyeon is also panicked but she doesn’t react as much. Seeun asks what’s happening, and that’s when Jiwoo delivers the big news. “I-I’m pregnant,” she reveals, “o-obviously there’s no question who the father is.”

Everyone’s jaws drop; Shane and Jiwoo are expecting just a few days after getting engaged. You nudge your twin who is still stunned, indirectly telling him to go and comfort his fiancé. After snapping out of his trance, Shane moves to kneel next to Jiwoo, making her turn her chair towards him.

“Love, love,” he calls to her. “It’s okay, love; having a child is a huge blessing for us.” “But-but you’re stuck with me from now on, oppa,” she says, and admittedly, you think that it’s a very crazy thing to say, all things considered. “I’m not stuck with you, love—what are you talking about? I got in this relationship with you because I think you’re a great woman to have a life with.” Now that’s a good and reasonable counter. “W-what about my master’s degree? Is-is that deal getting called off?” You don’t know exactly what she’s referring to, but it’s not important for you to know. “It’s not getting called off, love, but we’ll need to figure some things out first, okay?”

You scan the environs to get a grip: Yooyeon and Seeun are tearing up while Harvey is still stunned and has his mouth open. “Man, this is crazy,” you say in your head, and a part of you thinks that you’re understating it. Harvey reaches for your hand and taps it a few times. “Let’s go,” he mouths as he stands up. You follow him towards his back garden with Seeun and Yooyeon following closely behind you.

“Let’s give them some space for now,” Harvey says, taking a seat on one of the benches. You sit on the other bench and are soon joined by Seeun, who immediately rests her head on your lap. Yooyeon, on the other hand, joins her husband and copies Seeun’s movements. “Crazy turn of events, hey, Shaun?” “Tell me about it,” you sigh, “well, I hope things go well for them and the little one.”

Shane comes outside and invites everyone back in, mentioning that Jiwoo has calmed down, and true enough, you see that Jiwoo is now serene and steady when you return. “Congratulations, cookie,” you say, putting a hand on her shoulder, “I wish you eternal happiness.” She thanks you for the kind words and asks that you wish her luck with being a parent. “I’m sure you and Shane will be great parents, Jiwoo-yah,” you say.

Everyone takes turns hugging Shane and Jiwoo to show support before taking their seats at the table again. “I think this is where we start eating,” Harvey says. You and Shane reach for the pizza at the same time, showing those present the twins’ unrivaled dynamics. “Great minds think alike—right, Shane?” He nods while his mouth is busy munching.

-

Shane and Jiwoo understandably excuse themselves from the celebration and leave early; they have some things to talk about in the privacy of their own home, not Harvey’s. You don’t want to be left behind in your brother’s home, so you go home at the same time Shane and Jiwoo do.

“Hah, finally.” Seeun lets out a sigh of relief as soon as the car starts rolling. “Sorry, babe, it’s just that I want to spend some time with you and only you.” You assure her that the feeling is mutual. “I’m going to say this right now: I want to have some fun with you at home, love,” you add. Seeun palms your crotch, assessing if you’re being serious. “You’re not lying, are you?” You shake your head. “No, I’m not.” She leans towards your ear. “Then put your foot on the pedal, baby,” she whispers, giving you goosebumps everywhere. You fiddle with some switches behind the wheel and put the car in sports mode. “I hope your seatbelt is fastened, Miss Yoon.”

Without giving her the chance to check, you put your foot on the pedal like she asks and zip around traffic, making use of the improved handling and responsiveness to pass slower drivers. “Don’t get us killed, baby,” Seeun says nervously. “Just hold on and we’ll be home before you know it.”

-

You have Seeun sit on the edge of the bed while you stand closely in front of her. “Do I have your consent, love?” She taps her chin with her finger. “Not yet,” she giggles. “I need some convincing.” She says she needs some convincing, but it’s her who makes the first move—Seeun is terri-bad at playing hard to get.

You’re pulled onto the bed as your girlfriend does a backwards tumble. “Is this your idea of convincing, my love?” Seeun presses her face into your chest to hide her blush. “You keep calling me love, baby.” You peck her forehead that’s right in front of your mouth. “I have a feeling that calling you love will work better going forward.” You get pinched in the waist. “Oh, don’t play with me like that, Han Jaehoon.” You roll over until you’re on top of her. “How is this playing with you, love—I’m being very honest right meow.”

The sound of her laughing, especially when you’re the cause of it, is never dull. “Oh my God, what did you just say right there, baby?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you play dumb. Seeun slaps your chest repeatedly, feeling highly amused by your little joke. “Oh, God, you’re so—” “Handsome? Cute? Attractive?” “I meant to say funny, but you’re also attractive,” she finishes her sentence.

Seeun undoes the only button of her cardigan. “In fact, you’re so attractive that I’m aroused for you.” You guess that she’s been convinced enough to finally let you in her pants. “Don’t tell me to be patient again, please—I don’t want to wait any longer, babe.” You shake your head. “Let’s do it, love.”

You leave her momentarily to undress, and Seeun uses that chance to also undress. The sight of her complete nudeness makes you stop—how did she even undress that quickly? “Fuck, you look so hot, love,” you utter mindlessly. She summons you to her with the wiggle of a finger, and you’ve never moved so fast in your life before. “I’m hot, and I’m all yours,” she whispers. The tip of your hard cock pokes her entrance. “Oh, you’re ready, aren’t you, baby—go on, then; fuck me.”

With your cock in hand, you slide into her warmth, and the tightness makes you fall limp into her arms. “Yes, that’s it, baby,” she always reacts so well to you, “you’ve missed me, haven’t you?” “I shouldn’t have—oh, fuck—we should’ve just done this earlier.” “Oh, don’t worry, baby; it was worth the wait,” Seeun says between moans.

You feel her hands wrapping tightly around your body and meeting right on your back, reminding you of how perfectly warm sex with Seeun is. “Kiss me, my love,” she uses the new pet name against you, and there’s no reason for you to not kiss her. She lets out a soft moan as soon as your lips touch hers and continues to moan into the kiss as she takes more and more thrusts from you.

She breaks the kiss to announce that she’s almost at the finish line, while you, on the other hand, think that you’re quite far from yours—it’s fine if she finishes first; she’ll help you chase your own finish later. “C’mon, love; cum for me,” you encourage her while making sure that your tempo is steady.

Seeun bites your bottom lip as her orgasm hits, and because of how painful it is, you’re glad that she quickly lets go. “B-baby, p-pull out,” she says weakly. You pull out of her warmth, and that’s when she starts rolling around in bed, her legs shaking out of her control. You lie sideways next to her while petting her head and whispering nice things to her ear, and Seeun does her best to reply.

You estimate that she needs some water, so you get off the bed, and that’s when she surprises you with a scream. “Y-your back, babe.” You stand in front of the mirror to see what she’s talking about: there are odd scratch lines on your back that you guess are caused by her nails—there are little spots of blood on some of them, too. “Ouchie,” only now do you feel the pain. “I-I’m sorry.” You chuckle. “Eh, it’s fine; they’ll be gone soon.” In your head, however, you know that it’d be so painful to shower for the next few days.

Seeun finishes the glass of water that you’ve brought for her within seconds and passes the empty glass back to you right after. “Thanks, baby.” She rewards your nice gesture with a peck on the cheek. You lie on your side of the bed, which you realize isn’t quite a good idea at the last second, thanks to the scars on your back. “Oh, God, I forgot,” you say, regretting your decision and sitting right back up. Your girlfriend asks if she can make it up to you for the scars, but you tell her that it’s not necessary, citing that it was just a heat-of-the-moment thing.

Seeun moves to sit on your lap, and in turn, lets you back in her warmth again—she also lets out a long moan as she slowly impales herself with your cock. “L-let me make you cum, baby,” she offers a most welcome solution. “Have at it, love.”

You thought that she’d just ride you while facing you like this, but it seems like she has a different idea. She turns around (without removing you from her pussy) and plants her hands on your knees. “Oh, this is quite the hot seat—hah, God.” This position allows you to reach around and stimulate her from behind, which you do immediately by placing a hand on her crotch, making sure that your middle finger is right on her nub. “Oh, please, not there.” “Why not, love? Don’t you want to cum again?” “I-if I cum again, I-I might not be able to wake up on time tomorrow for work,” she reasons.

You smirk at this opportunity to use Seeun’s medicine against herself, with a bit of revision. “If you mention work one more time, I will tie you to the bed and leave you alone the entire day.” “Oh, please don’t do that—look, I’ll make you cum,” she tries to negotiate. You chuckle teasingly. “How do plan on doing that without moving, hm?” Seeun’s grip on your knees gets firmer and stronger as she prepares to start. “I’ll move now, baby.”

Seeun slowly lifts her butt off your crotch, and that is when you start rubbing her nub. “You’re so tight, love—fuck, that’s so good,” you praise her. As if getting a boost of energy and confidence from your praise, she starts bouncing up and down at a good pace, and you can see how your shaft is entering and leaving her pussy repeatedly.

To make sure she doesn’t fall forwards, you place your free hand (that’s not busy rubbing her nub) on her stomach. “Can you feel that?” Seeun turns her head slightly. “Can you feel yourself bulging my belly?” You move your hand up and down her stomach as she keeps the bounces going—you indeed can feel her stomach subtly bulging when the entirety of your shaft is inside her. “You’re almost too big for me, baby,” she fuels your fire of ego. “And you’re almost too tight for me, love,” you whisper, “you’re literally squeezing me.” Seeun chuckles. “I’ll always be tight for you, baby.”

Your eyelids feel oddly heavy as time goes by, thus making you think that maybe you’re close to the finish line. “You’re close, aren’t you, baby?” “I think—oh, God, I think so,” you admit. Seeun stops moving and turns around to face you again. “I know you like looking at me when you cum.” “Damn right I do.” You quickly peck her on the lips. “Now move again, please.”

You make use of the fact that her breasts are right in front of your mouth by sucking one of them and grabbing the other. “Oh, I’ve waited so long for that,” she comments. Having heard her approval, you play with her tits more: tugging, nibbling, sucking—everything you can think of.

You’re ready to explode any moment now. “Love,” you call to her, “I’m about to blow.” “G-great to hear, baby.” Seeun turns down the pace, resorting to slower and longer movements. “How’s that for a change, baby?” “Amazing,” you say, “you’re amazing, love.”

This slower pace allows you and Seeun to be more expressive, showing each other just how enjoyable this is—oh, you’re twitching inside her. “Love, you felt that one, didn’t you?” Seeun nods. “Give it to me, baby; make me a mom like Shane did Jiwoo.” You pull her into a kiss by her chin while cum erupts out of your cock in waves.

Seeun is the first to break the kiss. “Baby,” she taps your chin to get your attention, “do you want me to take the pill?” You nod weakly. “We-we’ll need to talk first before getting you pregnant.” “I’ll take the pill later, then.”

Ignoring the pain from the scratch marks, you fall onto your back and pull Seeun with you. “I-I’m so sorry, but I’m so sleepy,” you say, about to give up to your heavy eyelids. “That’s fine, babe; we can clean up later.” You and Seeun yawn at the same time. “I love you.” “I love you more, baby.” She pecks you on the lips once. “See you tomorrow morning, okay?”

[colourstreakgryffin]

Teen!Reader finding Alastor all beaten and bruised after the finale and getting worried, insisting in patching him up, etc, while Alastor during the entire time is having a moment of realization like "oh, this kid ACTUALLY cares about me"

(This is platonic obviously, reader sees him like a weird older brother/father figure and looks up to him idk)

I love it. Simple, enjoyable and to be honest, we’ll just pretend Alastor had his sick solo in the finale before we showed up and I suppose Al will be quite unhinged and aggressive in this state so goddamn. Also, my second time writing about the finale

Platonic! Alastor- Reaching Out

“You son of a bitch, I am trying to help you!” You growl out, now half-wrestling with the Radio Demon himself, after his lose battle against Adam. Whilst Adam has been finally defeated at Lucifer’s hand then killed at Niffty’s knife. It’s clear as crystal that Alastor isn’t taking his own defeat well at all. He’s aggressive, completely lost his usual charismatic, well-mannered demeanour, he’s breaking down and barking at you to back off as you’re still trying to pry his own hands off the visible red bleeding wound over his chest

You’ve found this retreating deer out of pure luck and now, you’re acting on your compassion for him to try make the process of healing less painful for him

You’re the only Hazbin Hotel staff member that actually treated Alastor more than an annoyance standing there. He isn’t the best guy at there, never. No, but he isn’t as bad as Vaggie or Husk claim he is. However, right now, he’s boiling your blood with how much he is refusing to let you even touch him, despite the fact he needs to be patched up. He’s low on power, his cane is snapped in half, he’s limited and requires help

“I don’t need your help, Leitora!” Alastor barks back in possibly the most unhinged way you’ve ever seen, basically backing into a wall. He can’t even notice how worried you actually are, how you’re getting frustrated because you’re worried and you’re the only one who has been looking for and have found Alastor whilst everybody else is celebrating the victory over Adam. You’re the one looking for and now looking out for the man you actually find quite nice. He isn’t as patronising to you, for whatever reason, Alastor’s decent and it’s almost like he wants to be some type of figure in your life with how he behaves

“Stay still before you bleed yourself to unconsciousness, you narcissistic edible piece of shit!” You only say this so cruelly, sharp and half loud as to put Alastor into his place, prove to him you’re not backing down whilst you finally win the half wrestling session you have with the weakened and distressed Overlord, already beginning to check around for the entire length of the wound and use what little excess fabric your current clothing has to make a makeshift bandage for this wound

This is surprising, you’re possibly two times his age. A teenager, if not 15-16 at the oldest upon your human death and you’re acting more mature than the biologically 34 year old. Alastor just stayed quiet, tall fluffy deer-like ears still pinned back and suffering through the intense pain. He wouldn’t admit that he is quite grateful that somebody is around but at the same time, he doesn’t want to get attached to any soul

It took him a proper glance at the cute young sinner he found it fun to playfully tease, mock and behave like a clingy overprotective big brother to piss off, that they genuinely care for him. That they aren’t lying or pretending as to get something out of him like he suspects everybody in the Hotel, including Charlie, is

This is so much different than he suspected, he was believing he’d be going back to his radio tower to vent out his rage at being smacked in the face of such a pathetic opponent

Ending up being the pathetic opponent. He hates showing his weakness and he can barely keep himself from snapping but he also can feel his racking nerves ease up a bit at this strong, confident yet sweet and compassionate kid trying to take care of him when they have no actual requirement to do so

Alastor takes a few more seconds to think and speak, not even realising he was sat down by you as he was thinking frantically about how his own mischievous and mocking behaviour as some type of surrogate brother for you was more than just something down to see your reactions for his own amusement, he does feel some type of family-based affections for you

Now, that affection has been bumped up even more. He definitely owes you a lot for caring about him like some surrogate little sibling when all he does for you is annoy you. He doesn’t even know that you actually look up to him like some type of family figure… so, the familiar feelings are mutual

“Fuck… can you just be careful with the coat? This is my treasure”

(A/N: Real quick. Leitora means ‘Reader’ in Portuguese, this’ll be our name for any none anime posts. There’s two versions; Leitora as the feminine version and Leitor as the masculine version. You can use either for us! I got this from Google Translate)

[nadvs]

　　💻　⊹　❀　︵　∘　 ⟢ even from afar

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating mature 18+

summary it’s hard enough to pretend you’re over someone. it’s even harder when you see them with someone new.

author’s note i was listening to ‘carousel’ by isabella on loop while writing this… entirely the vibe of this blurb.

blurb in the cam girl universe (18+), following the alt ending, based on this ask. all angst!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

having to find a second job was a hassle. after her car broke down and she got a ridiculous estimate that made it clear that getting a new car would be the financially smarter option, she knew she needed to find another source of income.

there were no other placements for her as a maid, so she secured a job as a server for a high-end catering company. it’s yet another position where she’s tending to the island’s wealthiest and snobbiest, but she tries to have a good attitude about it.

tonight, she’ll hand out drinks and refreshments and be cordial but quick like she’s been trained to be, giving guests what they want but not bothering them with her presence. it’ll be fine. maybe she’ll even earn some tips.

but then she sees rafe across the crowded banquet hall. and her stomach drops.

when she secured this job a couple of weeks ago, the tiny possibility of him being at an event she had to work gnawed at her in the back of her mind. but now, he’s really here, in the same room as her, looking agonizingly good in a navy suit and white button-up, his hair pushed back.

meanwhile, she’s in an uncomfortable uniform, a black dress that ends mid-calf, paired with practical shoes. as if she needed the reminder of how divided their worlds are.

the last time she saw rafe was over a month ago at his friend’s place, the house she started working at when she had to leave the cameron residence. when he called her so fucking stubborn. when he told her he loved her.

while she’s supposed to be focused on filling her tray with martinis, she can’t tear her eyes off of him, hating herself for still missing him.

then, she sees a woman’s hand cupped around his bicep, her manicure flawless, her bracelet shining under the chandelier lights. her hair is perfect. her dress is beautiful.

and her heels are the farthest thing from practical. because she doesn’t need to worry about being comfortable. the pain of seeing rafe with another woman, obviously a rich one, tears through her with no mercy.

she swallows down her nerves and looks down at her tray, mentally telling herself that if she really has to cry about it, she can cry later. she has work to do.

she thought she was feeling better about all this. admittedly, sometimes, she has to dismiss the frustrating worry that she was too impulsive with kicking rafe to the curb. but she was sure she was getting over him.

yet right now, her heart is a traitor, pounding with anticipation and pain and yearning as she looks at him. she’ll stay away from that particular area. it’s the only way she’ll make it through tonight.

it’s not that easy. almost twenty minutes into the gala, she gets pulled in to the group of four, having to face rafe again. the man whose house she cleans, rafe’s friend, looks at her with raised brows when he realizes it’s her passing by.

“what, we don’t pay you enough?” he asks with a laugh. “had to get a second job?”

she stops in her tracks. she looks up at him with a forced smile. god, she hates him. he’s cruel. he always bosses her around. he actively tries to make her feel like she’s below him.

she doesn’t want to look at rafe. she can’t.

“just getting more experience,” she says sternly but politely, then tries to step away.

“wait,” the woman on rafe’s arm says. “i’ll get a passionfruit martini.” she doesn’t even really make eye contact, more focused on her phone.

but rafe’s eyes aren’t on his girlfriend. or his phone. he’s staring at the beautiful girl wearing a uniform she shouldn’t have to wear, working a job she shouldn’t have to work. it still keeps him up at night, why he wasn’t good enough, why she didn’t want him spoiling her anymore.

“it’s a closed menu,” she replies, still refusing to look at rafe, “but we have french and lemon drop.”

the girl looks up from her phone and scoffs.

“you can’t just make it?”

rafe sees it in her eyes, how frustrated she is at his girlfriend’s attitude. he’s frustrated, too. he still doesn’t even know what he’s doing dating her.

but she’s been a good distraction. and maybe he’s an asshole for using a person to distract himself, but she’s just as shameless, a kook who’s been trying to hook up with him for ages because rafe’s notorious for not wanting to be locked down into a relationship.

he’s just a fling, a game to win to her, while she’s just a diversion from the weight that won’t leave his shoulders.

“we can’t make it,” she reiterates.

“why not?”

“just take what’s on the menu,” rafe tells her.

“babe,” she complains. “they have a whole bar over there. they can make it.”

finally, the woman he loves meets his eyes. and his entire body tenses. he misses her so fucking bad that he aches.

he stopped going to his buddy’s house so he wouldn’t have to see the girl who broke his heart working there. does she know that she still carries a piece of it everywhere she goes? does she even care?

rafe takes a glass from the tray, never losing eye contact with her.

“we’re good,” he says, his voice low, his stare heavy. “thanks.”

he hands the drink to his girlfriend, hoping it’ll shut her up. they’ve only been together a week and rafe is already sure he’ll be ending things.

because now, he’s been reminded of what it’s like to really love someone, to be so attracted to a woman that it’s like she’s the only person in the room, to want to spend all your time with her.

he’s found that in only one person. and she just walked away, eyes flitting away from him with hurtful indifference.

“wait, how do you know her?” his girlfriend asks his friend.

“she’s my maid,” his friend replies.

“is she always so fucking rude?” she scoffs. rafe sighs to himself. he thinks she should have been much ruder.

“not in bed,” his friend says with a grin.

“bullshit,” his other buddy laughs. “you’re not really hitting that, are you?”

“jealous?” he replies.

rafe’s blood goes hot. he doesn’t believe it. not for a second. not when he saw the way she looked at his friend. there was nothing but vitriol in her gaze.

she can’t be sleeping with him. but the thought of his idiot friend trying to put any moves on her, making her uncomfortable, makes him feel like he might go insane.

he has to be sure she’s being treated okay. and honestly, he’ll take any excuse to talk to her.

as she stands at the bar, tidying up the dirty dishes she just collected, she realizes she can hear her heartbeat over the music and conversations.

rafe has a girlfriend. already. they broke up, if she could even call it that, a month ago. he said he loved her. and now he has an insufferable, spoiled girlfriend. was anything he ever said genuine?

“hey.”

his familiar voice makes goosebumps blossom over her skin. she looks up to see rafe standing at her side, eyes travelling over her face.

the things those eyes have seen. her, in every way, in so many positions, taking her in while he called her perfect and said she was made for him.

“what is it? i already told your girlfriend it’s a closed menu,” she says sternly, unable to curb her envy.

despite everything, rafe’s lips curl up into a smirk. she’s jealous. a girl who doesn’t have any feelings for him wouldn’t be jealous.

“you care that i have a girlfriend?”

she picks up her tray and holds it to her chest, as if it can offer her any protection against the hurt he’s caused her, and stares up at him.

she never felt any reason to lie to herself or to him about the nature of their relationship. she never cared about her pride. she lost it long ago.

she steps an inch closer, making sure nobody else hears. it’s easy. she’s used to having to hide what they have. or had.

“it’s really fucked up to say you love someone, then be with someone else like, a second later,” she mutters. “i don’t care that you’re dating someone. it’s just obvious i’m not as important as you said i was.”

it’s not the answer he expects. she sees it in the way his face falls.

if he really opens up his heart right now, he’ll cry. he reminds himself of why he came over here in the first place.

“listen, it’s…” rafe swallows hard. “i’m here because he’s saying you two are hooking up.”

she sighs, rolling her eyes. his friend would. he’s a grade-a douchebag.

“i know it’s bullshit,” rafe says. truthfully, the confidence he has in her is refreshing. he was so possessive when they were together, but he knows her well enough to know she wouldn’t get near him.

“i just wanted to make sure he’s not doing anything to you,” he tells her. “are you okay?”

it’s a loaded question. no, she’s not okay. she’s so far from okay. these past few weeks have been hell. and she’s staring at the man who both ruined everything and could make it all better at the same time.

when rafe sees her brows drop and her eyes gleam with tears, his core twists in agony. what the hell has she been dealing with?

“you’re crying,” he says quietly, shocked to see a crack in her armor. ever since the night she ended things with him, she’s been cold and unforgiving. but now, she glances away, trying to swallow down the tears.

she remembers the nights they spent together, when they pushed each other to such physical limits that she was brought to tears, when he pointed out that she was crying in that exact tone of voice, stopping everything to comfort her.

“i need a second,” she says, stepping to the side. his hand rests on the inside of her elbow.

“let me come with you.”

again, it’s so out of character for rafe. he wouldn’t ever ask for permission before. he’d just follow her when she didn’t want to be followed, claiming her as his, angry that his property wasn’t doing what he wanted it to.

she didn’t doubt that he thought he loved her. but this is the first moment where she isn’t entirely doubting that it’s real. that it’s authentic, respectful love. and the revelation makes her uncomfortable and regretful and confused.

“okay.” the word comes out of her mouth before she can think.

he follows her into the empty coatcheck booth, shutting the door and turning on the dim light. they find a spot between filled up racks, jackets smelling like expensive perfumes and colognes. at this point, she’s sniffling back her tears.

rafe doesn’t know what to say. he just wants her to stop crying. it’s wrong. this is all so wrong. she shouldn’t be standing here, suffering in any way. she should be out in the crowd with him, as his date, smiling and laughing, without a shred of sadness sitting on her soul.

“i’ll kill him,” he says impulsively. “what is he doing to you, baby?”

“don’t call me that,” she replies. “you have a girlfriend.”

rafe looks down, exhaling sharply.

“not really.”

“what does that mean?”

“we don’t give a shit about each other,” he admits with a humorless chuckle. “it’s been a week and she already flirts with other guys in front of me. and i don’t even care. if you did that in front of me-”

rafe stops himself. it’s too much. he looks up at the ceiling. there’s no point in telling her how much she means to him when she doesn’t return the sentiment.

she tilts her head. hearing that his relationship is a superficial farce is unbelievably relieving, part of the reason being that if that girl out there is really his type, she never even stood a chance.

“tell me what he does,” he says.

“he’s just…” she shakes her head. it’s been torment, dealing with the environment at the house she cleans at now.

“he purposely makes messes just so i have to stay late to clean them,” she admits. “he says shit like ‘i know my stuff is worth more than your house, so i better not catch you stealing.’ and i would quit if i could, but-”

“why can’t you?” rafe urges. she sucks her teeth in frustration. he’s so out of touch.

“i have rent and bills. i need a new car. and it’s not like there’s a lot of options for people like me on this island.”

rafe stills. it’s the first time she’s ever said something like that out loud. she never seemed to think she was below anyone. it’s what split them up, her being so sure he saw her as just an object, even though that was never the case.

hearing her categorize herself like that with defeat in her tone is a punch to his gut.

“people like you?” he echoes.

“i shouldn’t be in here,” she sighs. “i shouldn’t be talking to you.”

“why is talking to me so goddamn bad?” rafe says, his temper flaring for the first time tonight. finally, after weeks of pain, they’re having a civil conversation, and she’s already dismissing him.

she looks up at him wordlessly. for once, she doesn’t know what to say. but then it comes rushing back, why she pushed this beautiful man out of her life. it cuts through her like she heard it a second ago.

“the shit you said to your friends-”

“stop,” he mutters. “don’t do that to me. i apologized a million fucking times.”

she crosses her arms, entirely at a loss. she’s not sure what he did could ever entirely leave her mind.

rafe rakes his hand through his hair, his bangs falling over his forehead.

“how much do you make cleaning?” he says. “i’ll double it until you find somewhere else to work.”

“what?” she says. here he is, wanting to solve all her problems with his wallet yet again, like they never had a brutal falling out.

“just let me do this,” he says.

her brows knit in confusion.

“why?” she finally says.

“are you kidding me?” he scoffs. “don’t make me say it when you’re not gonna say it back.”

she realizes he doesn’t want to say he loves her out loud. her heart is pounding even harder now.

the door clicks open and her eyes widen in concern, gripping rafe’s hand out of instinct. they’re concealed entirely behind the coat rack, but if anyone comes around the corner, they’ll be found.

she knows that rafe wouldn’t be in any sort of trouble. she, on the other hand, would be fired.

they have nowhere to go or to hide. they stare at each other, suspended, listening to someone she assumes works for the venue sorting things.

rafe can’t help it. his thumb strokes over the back of her hand. she looks down, gazing at the way her hand looks in his.

the endless nights they spent together rush through her head, how she felt his body surrounding hers, felt his lips on hers, felt him deep inside her. but those nights weren’t endless. they came to a crashing halt when her worst fears about him came true.

rafe gazes down at her, eyes travelling over her lashes and her lips, imagining that she’ll look up at him again, lean forward, and finally, finally, kiss him and give him the air he needs to breathe again.

but the door shuts and she lets go of his hand.

she doesn’t say anything. so, he does.

“just tell me how much you make there,” he says. “you don’t have to go back.”

she’s never had someone take care of her like this. he knows she won’t give him what he wants anymore. nothing physical. nothing at all. and she’s at her wit’s end, exhausted from working two jobs. she’ll take the help.

“i’ll text you,” she says. then, she rushes past him to get back to work. at the end of the night, she texts him the amount she earns in a week. he sends her well above double.

two days later, she’s sitting in her bedroom studying when she hears a knock on her apartment door.

it’s an older man at her front step, asking for her by name. she confirms she’s who he’s looking for and he hands her a small paper envelope.

“it’s parked out front,” he tells her. she watches in confusion as he leaves.

when she shuts her door, she opens the envelope to see that it’s a car key. she rushes to the kitchen window, looking out at the front of her building, and hits the lock button. the shiny car’s lights blink in unison.

it’s true. rafe bought her a fucking car.

she sinks into the closest seat at her kitchen table, staring down at the keys. it’s a ridiculously lavish gift, especially from someone she pushed out of her apartment last time he was here, someone she dismissed so harshly.

minutes later, she texts rafe: i can’t accept this.

he’s sitting in his bedroom when the text comes in. he knew she’d say that, which is why he paid someone to drop off the gift and leave before she realized what it was.

he replies soon after: if you think i expect anything, i don’t. you already told me nothing i do will make you want me again, so i know better. i want to do this for you. just take it. please.

she rereads the message over and over. then, she closes the conversation.

the wound he left in her is still bleeding. she knows because when she imagines him touching her again, she’s sure she’ll just remember the horrible things he said, the disgusting things he let his friends say.

and the pain of that would be too sour to allow her to feel anything sweet.

(continuation)