#how it's the responsibility of each generation

[sleepynoons]

AHHHH help i need someone to pick me off the floor and bring a mop over

hi it's me again sorry for existing in the same timeline as you

anyway sooooooo many wonderful perfect amazing show-stopping things about the finale

uh first of all, kudos for the perfect break between pt 1 and pt 2 - it's incredibly seamless, and it ties all the loose strings together, and really, the thing that stuck out to me about this whole story is simply how Cohesive it is. super hard to execute that as a writer, so really, really impressed by that.

onto more specifics.

first, i so appreciate the portrayal of reader as being very sexually active, and in my mind, hypersexual. i mentioned previously about how we don't really know the full story with suo, and that applies to reader as well. we don't really how reader grew up, what her likes/dislikes are (besides sex and bad sex, respectively), what family life was like before getting kicked out, etc. not sure what you had in mind, but there's a sense i have where i truly, truly believe reader is not actually a very reliable narrator!!! i think there's some avoidance!!! some dense and forgetful behavior that is meant to elucidate and confuse us as readers!!! and funnily enough, suo helps us gain clarity.

anyway, i think hypersexuality rep is important, in general. a big part of it isn't just feeling horny 24/7. there's some very real problems with low esteem/self-respect, feelings of disgust, internalized misogyny + objectification, and more. i think this fic also treads this balance very carefully, in that it recognizes that sex work is really just a means to get by, in the most neutral sense possible. it's not always glamorous, it's not always violent. as someone who's done a ton of research and activism in sex work, especially at the intersection of sex work + immigration, i really appreciated this rep.

in terms of reader and suo's relationship, this is really where i wanna dive into it. it's very clear i love them and i love them together, but it's not just their alikeness that makes them work. it's their shared history, their leniency + strict expectations for each other, and so much more.

the specific word choices and phrases really drive this through – "being gutted by suo" "mortified" "pavlovian response" and so many more

their banter is really the cherry on top as well.

also wanna emphasize this more - despite how romantic they are with each other (in their minds), they're also so sharp and judgmental – and i mean judgmental. lowkey kinda like asian parenting LOL like reader wants the best for suo, but now that suo's become a yakuza, that's a grudge she's keeping for the rest of her life. similarly, suo wants reader to stop fucking around and actually practice more self-control, but because she doesn't listen, he's gotta take matters into his own hands and edge the living shit out of her. sexual innuendos aside, literally asian love. like fine we'll deal with it if you don't listen but just know we're holding it over your head for the rest of your goddamn life LMFAO ik it's kinda toxic to other folks who may not have grown up in such an environment - and i'm not really gonna have an opinion on whether it's valid/justifiable or not -, but as someone who grew up with tiger parents + somehow managed to be somewhat emotionally close to them, this type of love is really smth i treasure a lot.

and i think that's the whole point of the fic, for me at least. reader and suo want to take care of each other. they want to cherish the time they have together. but at the same time, it's realistically impossible not to hurt your loved ones. i think it's so easy to say certain things are dealbreakers and to just walk away, but even irl, sometimes it's also just... hard to walk away. idk maybe i have a really convoluted sense of love and romanticism, but i am 100000% convinced love is difficult and honestly not really worth the payoff sometimes, yet reader and suo kinda don't even care if the payoff's worth it. like we'll hurt, we'll love, and we'll just see how it goes bc we just care that fucking much about each other. i wonder if they'd still choose to be tgt even if they knew they were making each other incredibly unhappy... bc they're each other's person ykwim.... anyway, some more food for thought for me... heheh

also,,, sex scene had me quaking,,, i totally read the tags and saw p*ssy inspection and wasn't shocked,,, totally was prepared,,, haha,,,, ha

anyway, sooo much love and thanks again, op. i may have gone off the rails, and thought or interpreted shit you didn't even think about or agree with. point is, haven't thought so much about a fic in so long, and i really was so enraptured with every word, every cadence, every paragraph. apologies for the brief spam in your inbox, but i really hope, no matter where you go, you keep writing. thank you so so so much, truly, for sharing this with us.

TOKYO VICE | part 2

“Do you remember,” Suo begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?” You tense. “No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs. “Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers and starts pulling the fabric down your sticky thighs—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.” (Or: Tired of your lies and self-deception, Suo takes matters into his own hands and forces the truth out of you.)

12.8k words. suo x fem reader. deeply unserious yakuza au ft. yandere suo. mostly unrepentant smut, comedy, angst. warnings: sex work. nsft tags: afab reader, emotional sex, fingering, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, pussyjob, just the tip, creampie. suo is mean and makes you cry but there's no degradation, he's just a bastard lol. he also manhandles you a lot and you sit in his lap. dividers by @/cafekitsune!

part 1 here

You're surprised at Suo’s indifference to your sex life.

A month has gone by, and he’s made no comment on your habit of sleeping with customers, nor on the hours during which you come home—which are now even later than usual, since you have express permission to sleep with people and have no need to rush back to the penthouse after your ‘appointments’. And it isn't as if he's ignoring the reality of your late nights either. In a stunning show of respect for your personal freedom, he now actively offers to arrange for someone to pick you up from whichever love hotel you'll end up at. (You always decline, of course—if you're going to pretend to be his wife, you'd rather pretend to be a faithful one.)

Ironically, you had initially thought that Suo’s approval wouldn't matter either way. You had found the sex with your clients to be so uninspiring that it made you miss celibacy, so you were planning on stopping. But it turned out that you were deeply affected by the experience of sitting in Suo’s lap as he talked about his expectation of deciding whose cocks you should be allowed to take. It did something horrible to your sex drive, and thus you turned to work as your only outlet.

You spent around three weeks desperately trying to find a customer to satisfy your urges—or at the very least, to fuck you in a way that could get you to stop thinking of Suo whenever you got even a little horny. You were faced with utter failure in this pursuit, and in the end, bleakly resigned yourself to the reality that your shameful attraction to your best friend is incurable. You’ve now given up on the love hotel visits and simply take care of your needs with a vibrator instead. At least this way, you can actually say Suo’s name while you cum, rather than constantly reminding yourself to say your customer’s name instead.

The freedom of letting yourself fantasise about Suo has been exhilarating, but terrible for your friendship. It’s just difficult to sit across from him at breakfast and act like you haven't touched yourself at the table while he was gone, fantasising about what it would be like if he bent you over it and fucked you dumb. But you are a decent actor—hostessing demands that of you—so you don't think Suo has caught onto your carnal desires for him. Hopefully, he never will.

Another couple of weeks pass like this. Things are so calm that you come to believe that Suo is genuinely fine with you having some degree of sexual freedom, at least at work. This, however, turns out to be nothing short of naïvete.

After all, Suo is never forceful when he's upset with your decisions—but he also never fails to redirect them.

One spring evening, you show up at the kyabakura and are told that you’re only to see one customer tonight, and that it will be a private session.

“But we don't do private sessions here,” you say, blissfully unaware of your imminent suffering, “and we don't even have private rooms at this establishment.”

To this, your mamasan responds that the club is making an exception for this one guest, and that this guest has rented out the rooftop bar just to see you. When you ask just who this person might be, a look of mild panic flashes through her eyes. She grabs you by the shoulders and tells you to be careful. Just keep him happy and go home after, okay? she says. Don't go out for drinks, and definitely don't go to any love hotels. Don’t tell him your real name at any cost. You don't want to involve yourself with a man like him.

A sense of dread fills you as you step into the elevator.

A cool breeze greets you when you step onto the rooftop patio. Normally bustling with a raucous crowd, it almost feels eerie in its emptiness. Aside from the glow of the red light district beneath you and the city skyline in the distance, the only light is coming from the candles lighting one of the booths.

Your anxiety intensifies as you approach it.

You aren't very surprised at the sight of Suo lounging on a leather couch, dressed in full criminal regalia—infamous eyepatch, tassel earrings, and all. Sakura once mentioned that this club is connected to some colour gang, so you figure that the manager likely recognized Gui Yanzhao on sight. He probably suffered a minor angina when he did. The mamasan herself has no criminal ties to your knowledge, but she was probably informed that one of her girls was to entertain a high-profile yakuza, and she was likely worried that you'd been maimed in the process. Gui Yanzhao has a bit of a reputation for being a sadist, after all.

While you appreciate her concern, it is not Suo’s history of violence that scares you, but his history of antagonising you. On good days, there's nothing that delights him more than seeing you flustered or off-kilter. On bad days, there’s nothing that consoles him like spiteful retaliation against whomever's managed to piss him off—and you have, without a doubt, managed to piss him off.

You groan as soon as you see him, fearing the worst for your mental health.

“What are you doing here,” you say, and Suo smiles.

“Oh? You're not happy to see me?”

“No,” you moan. “How are you even here right now? Aren't you worried about being assassinated or something? Who did you terrorise to get an entire rooftop bar to yourself?”

“I have a very cordial relationship with all the major organisations on Keisei Street and was promised immunity during my visit tonight,” Suo says neatly. “And I didn't terrorise anyone. I simply walked into this fine establishment and politely asked for a private space to enjoy with my preferred hostess.”

Neither of you need to mention that the sight of the tassel earrings alone would be enough to terrorise someone. The manager probably felt like he was being extorted just from being on the receiving end of Suo’s smile. Actually, you currently feel like you're being extorted too.

You spend a good few moments giving him a look of open distress, to which he smiles.

“You know,” he says, “for a top-ranking hostess, you're not showing much hospitality right now.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

You force yourself to stop, remembering that you are, in fact, at work. Despite your mixed feelings about your industry, at the end of the day, you pride yourself on your work ethic. You take your job very seriously, and your job right now is to entertain your customer—even if said customer is your fake yakuza husband who is toying with you as a cat would a mouse.

Resigning yourself to a night of probable humiliation (one of Suo's greatest passions in addition to lying for comedy), you walk over to sit yourself next to him. And just like in Red Dragon’s lounge, Suo overturns the decision by pulling you into his lap. Your eyes go wide as he settles you on top of him—because unlike the intimate space of that crime scene, this is expressly forbidden behaviour at your club.

Also, unlike that other night, you are currently wearing the shortest dress imaginable and the tiniest thong you own.

You find yourself shivering as Suo's hand settles on your lower back, which is fully exposed thanks to the cut of your dress. You try not to focus on the calloused press of his fingers against your bare skin, but this is an exceedingly difficult endeavour, as his touch has been featured in your sexual fantasies for the past several weeks. Worse yet—your dress is now riding up your ass, and your thong isn't doing much to cover you. Whatever material his pants are made of—light, delicate—feels incredibly good against your thighs too.

If this continues, you might cum on the spot.

“Wait,” you say, and Suo raises a brow.

“Oh?”

“You aren't supposed to touch the hostesses here.”

He smiles. “I'm sure this place might be able to make an exception for me. But only if you are personally willing to, of course.”

“...”

Making an exception for him, in your current situation, would be among the worst decisions you've ever made. But after two of the most sexually frustrating months of your life, you’re ready to make horrible decisions.

“Fine,” you say. “But you better not cheap out on the drinks. The mamasan will only overlook this if you make it worth our while.”

“Of course,” Suo says. “Though I think she’d overlook a lot of things for me regardless.”

Suo makes good on his promise and orders a great deal of alcohol. All top shelf, of course. He laughs that his goal is to bring you to the number 1 ranking with his patronage alone tonight. It’s a hideous display of wealth.

As you pour him an absurdly expensive drink (a Hibiki 30 year-old blended whiskey), you reminisce on how little money you both used to have as teens. He had to be so careful with his wallet whenever he felt like visiting you—or rather, checking in on you—at work. Especially after your master passed. The two of you were very good about staying financially independent, but there was something comforting about your master’s promise to support you if anything ever happened.

With him gone, you and Suo had only financial paranoia and each other.

You guess that might have affected Suo more than you thought. Perhaps he didn't join the yakuza to spite you, but to support you. Certainly, he seems to enjoy spoiling you right now—treating you to drinks that would easily clear a year of his salary as a teen, buying out an entire night of your time at a high end club, renting out a whole floor just so that he can have you to himself. When you point out that his tab must be getting catastrophic, he only laughs.

“I did always say that I wanted to spend money on you,” he recalls. It had been a running joke during your days at the girls’ bar, when you scolded him for paying 3000¥ per hour just to visit you. You hated that he was wasting money on the red light district; he always replied that it wasn't a waste, because it was money spent to see you.

You feel your stomach flutter at the comment. You didn't think he'd remember words from so long ago. As a teenager, you had a tendency of clinging onto small, inconsequential moments with him because they brought you so much joy. You’ve always assumed he would have forgotten them, writing them off as instances of shallow teasing—but if he remembers, then surely they meant something to him too?

This would all make you feel sentimental if you weren't outrageously horny.

Suo has kept you on his lap the whole evening, even as you pour him drinks. Every movement to serve him has you involuntarily rubbing on his thigh, and you're quite certain at this point that he's been lifting your skirt up inch by inch with every casual touch on your waist. You don't bother accusing him of it, though. He'd just give you an innocent look and say that it was an accident. What a horrible man.

Accident or not though, it doesn't change the fact that your nearly bare cunt is pressed right against him. You keep trying to shift positions to pull down your skirt or lift yourself off him, but each attempt only makes it worse—brings the soft fabric of his pants right against your pussy, or makes your clit drag against his thigh, with only your thong separating your bodies. You try to suppress your arousal, but to your overwhelming horror, you can't seem to control yourself. You feel yourself getting wet, folds quickly becoming slick as you’re forced to grind on him. Your body, already warm from all the cocktails and shots, grows even hotter as you squirm on his lap.

In a desperate move to regain some control, you fully get up to reach for another drink. But then you feel a pair of hands on your waist, and Suo pulls you back onto his leg—this time forcing you to straddle it. You can't help the whimper that leaves you as your dripping cunt is spread and pressed against him, your clit throbbing against his thigh.

You pray that he doesn't notice the noise, so of course he does.

“Hm? Is something wrong?” Suo’s hand drifts over your waist and down to your thigh, where it ghosts over your bare skin. He leans in, and his voice is silky as he speaks into your ear: “You're moving around a lot. Do you need to get up?”

He’s giving you an out. It's quite considerate of him, as staying like this would not be a good decision. But for better or worse, you have a tendency to make bad ones.

“...no, I'm fine.”

“Good,” he says. “Let me know if you’re uncomfortable at all. I'm happy to move if you'd like.”

As if demonstrating, Suo shifts the leg you're sitting on, directly rubbing it against your core. You try not to shudder, feeling yourself get even wetter, clenching around nothing.

Trying to ignore how empty you are, you grasp for other topics of conversation, something to distract you. A little scrambled from the alcohol and catastrophically aroused, you of course land on the one that's been making your sex drive unmanageable.

“Remember a month ago,” you say, “how you talked about choosing who gets to touch me?”

“Yes.” His palm is warm against your thigh. He isn't moving it, so there's plausible deniability, but the amused tone of his voice suggests that he knows what he's doing. “Does that bother you?”

Of course it should bother you. It's a level of control that's appalling even to your anxiously-attached ass. But it’s also making you wetter right now. You try not to cry—from misery or sexual frustration, you're not sure.

“Well, yeah. Come on, Suo—even you should know that's really weird of you.”

“I do,” he says, smiling like he isn't admitting to deranged behaviour. “But how else am I supposed to know you're safe? Or even aside from being safe—if your needs are being met.” His hand runs up and down your thigh before settling at the hem of your dress. “I wouldn't want you to go unsatisfied. Who knows what kind of people you'd seek out if that happened.”

You actively stop yourself from putting your face in your hands. The gall of him saying this after forcing you into extended celibacy is beyond words, especially as you're being forced to rub up on him, effectively ruining every attempt you've made not to think about him sexually for the past several years. There are many materially consequential reasons for your decision to not fuck Suo—you should not be soaked through your panties, your thighs sticky with need, as you sit on his lap.

“That's,” you say lamely, “not very normal of you.” Trying for a less sensual conversation, you go for the reliable topic Sakura’s romance radar: “Also, if satisfaction was your concern, why did you choose Sakura? I love that guy a lot, but he has literally no experience. And I think he'd blue-screen trying to keep a friend with benefits. You know he can't handle a fuckbuddy.”

You are not trying to be mean. What Sakura objectively needs for his first time is someone sweet and emotionally competent and, most importantly, not an absolute freak like you. This is a failure of your character, not his.

You can hear Suo’s smile in his reply: “I don't think you're giving him enough credit.”

“He has the social skills of a feral cat.”

Suo genuinely laughs. “Sure, when he first came to Makochi. But he's much better now. Plus, you have no room to talk. I mean”—his breath sweeps over your ear—“you used to be pretty wild yourself. I've just domesticated you is all… though you've been misbehaving lately.”

His words do something horrible to you. Trying to distract yourself from the mounting sexual tension, you turn to him to give him a biting retort, but you're abruptly stopped by the look in his eye. Distinctly hungry and unrepentant in its desire, his gaze roams openly and shamelessly along the curves of your body.

You feel like you're being eaten alive.

Plenty of customers have looked at you in such a way when you wear this outfit, but none have had this effect on you—which is to say, making you clench immediately.

You try not to cry. You actually will cum on the spot at this rate, and you don't think you could be subtle about it. You're barely keeping it together right now, with how your pussy keeps fluttering and dripping. Coupled with the way that the alcohol is melting the edges of your self-control, you're shocked you haven't at least moaned yet.

In a last ditch effort to save your friendship, as well as your rental (house arrest) situation, you slap a hand over his mouth.

“Stop that.”

Suo laughs. He grabs your wrist, lifts your palm away. ��Why?”

Why? Because if you keep talking like that, I'll bend over and start begging you to fuck me! you think. But even in your inebriated, horny state, it feels like a poor idea to admit this aloud. You end up saying, “Hostesses aren't paid to flirt like this. Strictly speaking, we’re paid to be conversational partners.” You frown at him. “You're breaking a lot of club rules right now.”

This reprimand backfires on you, as you are suddenly filled with intrusive thoughts of breaking every single rule in this establishment with Suo, including the ones preventing you from climbing on top of him and riding him raw. You squirm at the thought, wishing you could close your legs rather than making a mess of your underwear (now a lost cause), but Suo’s grip stays firm on your waist.

He, himself, is unbothered by your scolding. “Okay,” he says simply. “Then I won't speak to you as a hostess. I want to speak to you, seriously, as a friend.”

His smile is so disarming, it makes you nervous. But he sounds earnest enough for you to be curious, and anyway, you're desperate for something to distract you from your wet cunt.

“Alright,” you acquiesce, “What do you have to say, as a friend?”

“I just have one question.”

“Sure. Shoot.”

His hand comes to rest in your thigh again. He leans in, breath so hot against your ear that your heart jumps.

“I can accept that you wanted to see customers just to satisfy your urges. But tell me why you didn't come to me first.”

You freeze up. Look at him, wide-eyed.

“Wh-what?”

Suo just smiles. Looks so fucking innocent you wonder if you misheard, but his voice is sharp when he replies: “Let me put it another way. Why have we never slept together?”

For some reason, you’ve never thought that he'd ask you this question point blank, even though you've asked it to yourself many times. It takes you several moments to piece together a response, during which Suo’s expression turns distinctly wicked. A sign that he smells blood.

“Why would you think we would have?” you ask carefully.

“Because we’ve both clearly thought about it. You especially.”

You try to keep a straight face. “No I haven't. I don't know what you're talking about.” You raise a brow. “How would you even know?”

“Because,” he says, hand inching up your thigh, “you’re so wet that I can feel it.”

You're mortified.

Shame floods your body, first because of the accusation, and then because you know it's true. You were tipsy enough not to think about this, but now—sobering up from sheer panic— you're acutely aware of how you've soaked through the fabric beneath you. Something that Suo had certainly known, and chose to encourage.

What a horrible man.

When you don't reply, he tilts his head. “Don't tell me you haven't noticed. Do you want me to show you?”

His hand is moving so slowly, you know he's giving you another out. You could easily get off his lap. You could even slap him and call him a sleazy drunk and grouse at him to go home. You could forgive him in the morning for coming onto you and say he'd obviously made an inebriated mistake, as opposed to a very calculated decision. Your friendship would stay mostly intact. His grip on you might tighten, but that would be fine. You would still get to stay with him.

And that's all you've ever wanted. Just to stay with him.

But you're so wet, so empty, so aching. You want to be touched. You want to be touched by Suo, and only by Suo. You want to be fucked by him, to be owned by him, to be ruined by him. You’ve wanted it so badly and so long that you can't even remember when it started—only that you want it to end.

So instead of moving away, you sit there and endure the humiliation of getting your cunt inspected by him.

Suo hums as he opens your legs. You suppress a whimper as a finger moves along your folds, at the noise it makes as it runs through your slick. “Look, you’re so wet,” he murmurs into your ear. He finds your clit—swollen, neglected, and you whimper as he starts to draw slow, lazy circles around it. “Poor thing.”

“It’s only because you had me grinding on you the whole night,” you say through gritted teeth. “It doesn't—ngh—doesn’t mean I’ve been wanting to fuck you.”

You sound pissed enough that you'd convince anyone else, but you know, even without seeing his face, that Suo can tell you're bullshitting.

“You’re not a good liar,” he remarks. A fine teacher even when humiliating people, Suo can't help but add, “If you have to tell a lie, at least come up with a believable one.”

“What makes it unbelievable?” you reply, words clipped off by a sharp inhale as he starts rubbing your pussy.

“Well,” he starts nonchalantly, as if he isn't toying with your cunt, “after you were targeted in that succession conflict, I put hidden cameras in the area, and also in our suite.”

Your eyes go wide. Even in your aroused state, the implications are making you panic. “You—you what?”

“It was for security purposes,” he dismisses casually, as if he's not admitting to a serious invasion of privacy. “Only near the front door and the common areas. I just wanted to catch intruders and any suspicious behaviour from my men. But imagine my surprise”—you feel his fingers start to press into your cunt—“when I instead caught you fucking yourself on the couch and moaning my name.”

You’re mortified. Humiliated. Mind racing with every instance you were horny and stupid enough to touch yourself in a common space. You think about yelling at him about the cameras, but then you feel two fingers sinking into you, and now you aren't thinking about much at all.

Your mind goes blank as you're stretched open by him. Your cunt is so wet, so empty, but the feeling still makes you whine. Your brow furrows, and you give him a pleading look. Slowly, please.

“Don't worry,” he says in a soothing tone, “I know you can handle this. I've seen you take much bigger. Though”—he shifts, pulls you so you're in between his legs, and now you can feel the length of him against you, hard and aching and huge, what the fuck—“maybe not big enough.”

You tighten around his fingers as he grinds against you. You want him inside you so badly, it hurts. Suo laughs when he feels your desperation, and he sounds so amused that you can't help but feel ashamed. But even more than shame, you feel aroused. You take the rest of his fingers easily, down to the knuckle.

“What the fuck, Suo,” you eventually manage through your panting, though not with much bite. “You weren't—ahh—meant to see any of that.”

“Sorry,” he says, sounding deeply unapologetic. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn't watch much, and I deleted all of it. I didn't need to see that to know you have feelings for me.”

You tense. “What feelings?” you ask, and Suo stops. He pulls his fingers out of you—you breathe sharply at the loss—and manhandles you until you're straddling his lap. Forces you to look at him, into his one eye. It's knife-sharp, brutal, but familiar. You don't struggle, nor do you feel uneasy.

But you do feel like prey.

“Do you remember,” he begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?”

Fuck.

“No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs.

“Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.”

He smiles at you. Actually looks kind and even sounds earnest. What a fucking sociopath. You allow him to slide your underwear down your legs, kicking them off. Now your pussy is completely bare to him, and you can hear the way his breath stops as he touches it again. Three of his fingers push in this time, and you pant openly at the stretch, leaning against him as your body trembles from the stretch. He flexes his fingers experimentally, watching your reactions—your whimpers, your sighs, the way your eyelashes flutter when he brushes that one spot inside you.

“I’ve always had feelings for you,” he starts, using that nonchalant, delicate tone—the specific one that suggests danger, “and I know you’re too smart to have missed that. I’d be fine with it if you didn't return them, but you do.”

“I don't,” you protest, and then his fingers curl and press into your g-spot. You're cut off immediately, gasping at the sudden wave of heat in your belly.

A hand comes up to your chin. He forces you to look at him. “I said I wanted to have an honest conversation, remember.”

“I–I am being honest, I—” Your voice breaks as he starts pumping his fingers. It's slow, gentle, but precise. Tension builds in you at an alarming rate, your thighs getting as slick and messy as his hand. You bury your face into the crook of his shoulder, breathe in his cologne and gasp into his skin, and your mind goes hazy from the euphoria of his touch. Sure, you've hugged Suo before, been held by him before, and god knows you've been touched like this by a ton of other people before—but it feels different now. It feels different when it's Suo who's touching you, different when you’re this close to him while he's drawing all this pleasure out of you. When one hand feels so good inside you and the other one is holding you so intimately.

“Suo,” you whimper, overwhelmed by hot tension in your belly, “I-I’m close, I’m close, oh fuck—

He stops.

Before you can comprehend what's happening, he’s withdrawing his fingers, and all the heat in you is melting away. Your orgasm lost, you come down from your high—nerves frayed, emotions taut.

“Suo,” you say, “what the fuck?”

He gives you a smile. It almost looks nice. “I'm not letting you cum until you tell me the truth.”

You’re going to cry.

You're so wet, so empty, so desperate, and now you feel oddly afraid. You don't like the way he's staring you down. You don't like this line of questioning, this bullshit of engaging with other people's feelings. You’ve never liked it. But you need—need—him to fuck you. You need his fingers inside you and you need to cry into his neck while you finish.

You say, very quietly, “Please, Suo.”

“Please, what?”

It's funny. You've performed begging and crying and submission for countless clients, sometimes during annoyingly rough sessions. You've done it for years. But nothing has ever felt so humiliating as this moment, when you ask your best friend, in the smallest voice possible, “Please touch me.”

“No. Not until you start being honest with me.”

Suo's mouth curls at the devastated look you give him. You hardly even notice that he's adjusting you, having you straddle his thigh again—this time, facing him. You don't register it until your cunt is pressed into the wet spot you left earlier and he's saying, “You can move if you'd like. But I'm not touching you.”

“You’re fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, but your pussy is throbbing and you're desperate for release. So you finally do what you were desperately trying to stop yourself from doing the whole night—you start grinding on him. Like a fucking animal in heat. It's embarrassing, especially because his leg feels so good against you. The friction on your pussy makes you pant, your eyes squeezing shut as your clit finally gets some pressure. It makes up for the way he’s looking at you, which is sly, handsome, and rage-inducing all at once.

“You really do need to be touched,” he remarks softly. “You said your customers satisfied you. Was that true? Did they properly fuck you?”

“N-no,” you gasp. Your mind feels so cottony now that you're getting some relief. You can barely think, and definitely not enough to lie. “It was—it was—fuck, I never came.”

He hums, satisfied. “There—see? Telling the truth isn't so hard. You can do it again.”

He sounds so condescending. You would ordinarily hate it, but for some reason, it's going straight to your pussy right now, making you drip so much you know you've ruined his pants. You’re getting close, too, just by rubbing yourself on his leg. It doesn't feel quite as good as when his fingers were in you, but it’s something. And it’s making it hard to focus on what he's saying.

“It’s fine if you can't be honest about your feelings,” Suo continues. “Let's assume you're telling the truth, and all you want to do is fuck me. Why haven't you?”

You try to answer him, but you can't. You're too focused on the roll of your hips against his leg. There's too much tension, too much heat. You melt against him again, breathing heavily into his shoulder as you tighten around nothing. His hands come to your waist, as if grounding you, and somehow this makes everything feel even better. You start panting, babbling, I'm close, I'm getting close, Suo, Suo—

His grip tightens, and he stops you in place. You cry in frustration—no tears, but the noise you make is broken.

“Answer my question,” he says. You feel a hand glide along your bare skin, stopping at your inner thigh. “Answer me and I'll touch you.”

“Okay,” you say, as desperate as you are distressed. “Okay, I'll do anything. Anything.”

“Good.” He sounds so pleased.

You put your arms around his neck, for no reason other than you want to. Lifting your hips, you part your legs for him, and you feel so relieved at just the touch of his hand that you sigh—even though all he's doing is running a finger along your slick folds.

You shudder as his fingers play with your sex. Lean your head on his shoulder as he starts to move. You’re so desperate that you start grinding against his hand, whining for him.

“Well, then,” he murmurs. “Tell me why you didn't come to me. This is all you wanted, isn't it?” He rolls your clit between two fingers, making you squirm. “Just to get off, right? I could have done that. You'd have enjoyed it more.”

“It”—your eyelids flutter shut—“it would have been too complicated. Y-you’re my boss, and I pay rent to y-you, and we’ve been friends for so long, I didn't want to make it weird—”

Suo delivers a sharp slap to your pussy.

The contact is so sudden that you yelp. It only stings a little, but it makes your clit ache. The noise it makes is so wet, so filthy, telling of your desperation. And to your shame—even though you have never once in your life enjoyed being handled roughly by your customers—your cunt starts leaking in response.

You whimper, about to burst from frustration. You need to be touched so bad. You need to be touched by him so bad, and you need to cum on his cock or else you'll lose your fucking mind.

“Suo,” you complain, or beg, and you don't even realise that you're tearing up until he swipes his thumb under your eye.

“Try again,” he says gently, but not kindly. “The truth this time, and then I'll make you cum. Why didn't you come to me first? These past few months, or any other time?”

You don't answer him. “Suo, please—” And he moves back so that you're no longer leaning against him. Your lip trembles at the loss of the warmth, which somehow feels worse than the loss of your orgasm. An actual tear rolls down your cheek, and he doesn't wipe this one away.

“Answer me,” he says firmly. Instead of replying, you try to reach for him—wanting to be pressed against his body again, wanting him to draw pleasure out of yours again—but he stills you with his hands.

You feel devastated.

Out of horny, emotional desperation, and an all-consuming need to be fucked, you admit, “I was just scared!”

This is the worst mistake you've ever made.

The minute the words dislodge from your throat, you feel yourself choke up. You don't know why. All you know is that you suddenly can't hold back your tears from your sexual frustration, which for some reason is starting to feel distinctly like a non-sexual kind of angst, which is also strangely painful for your chest.

Because now that you've said it out loud, you can't ignore it.

You want to hide. You want to crawl out of his lap and run out of the establishment. Surely, the mamasan will forgive you for leaving a shift with such a frightening and horrible man, who is currently trying to extort your feelings out of you. But Suo’s grip is solid and unforgiving on you, and all you can do is squirm.

“Scared of what?” Suo asks. His voice has gone soft. Actually soft—not in a way that suggests danger, but a way that suggests you're loved. It makes you tremble.

His arms circle you, and one rubs at your back. It makes you relax very slightly. Or at the very least, it makes you stop wanting to bolt.

“What were you scared of?” he prompts again.

A feeling of defeat washes over you. Suo will figure you out sooner or later. He always does. So you tell him, very quietly, “I was scared that—that you'd leave me.”

You realise that you just stuttered. You stuttered because you're crying. You're actually, genuinely crying. Not from sexual frustration, but because you're just frustrated in general. And miserable. You've been chronically miserable for most of your life, and that misery has had nowhere to go until now.

You press your face into Suo’s shoulder, and he lets you. You breathe deeply in an attempt to stop crying, his cologne washing over you. It's nice, but what feels most comforting is just the scent of him. You're used to it from the days before he'd ever thought about using a fragrance, let alone a fragrance that would bankrupt the average person. It's calming, even when overlayed with ambergris and vanilla. Familiar.

Your breathing evens out a little—but only a little.

“Why would I leave you?” His voice is so kind, patient. More tears bead on your lashes.

“Because you might not want me anymore.” You sound so fragile. Shit, you are fragile. You can't stop the splintering feeling in you, the same one that ate at you two months ago when you thought he was going to leave you. “You could get tired of me or resent me or get bored with me. You could—you could want to throw me away, for no reason. Or—” You breathe in sharply, clinging to him harder.

“Or?”

“Or you could die—you joined the yakuza, so you could die. Why did you do that?” An actual sob leaves you. His shirt is getting wet. You ruined so many of his silk changshan like this in the past, when your boyfriend cheated on you and when your parents kicked you out and when you slept with your fifth customer.

And when your master died.

“I'm still so fucking mad at you for it,” you bite out around your tears. “If you got fucking killed—oh my god, I can't even think about it. I can't—I couldn't take it if—if I kissed you, and we had sex, and then I didn't have you anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the only thing I have.” You squeeze your eyes shut, a terrible realisation hitting you. “And…”

“And?”

“And,” you say, voice breaking, “I think because I love you?”

You know it as soon as you voice it. You do love him. Not just platonically, but in the way where you want to hold his hand and kiss him and marry him. In the way a miserable nineteen year old girl is so in love with her miserable best friend that she refuses to leave him despite how terrifying he’s becoming. You loved him in this way before you realised you wanted to have sex with him, and even after that, you loved him so much that it didn't matter that he wasn't having sex with you.

You love him so much it disgusts you.

You want to hide, but Suo forces you to look at him. He brushes away your tears, cups your face. The Pavlovian response takes over: your heart rate slows, and you calm down.

“There,” he says gently. “That wasn't so bad, was it?”

He’s wrong. You bet he knows he's wrong. That was objectively one of the worst experiences of your life. You feel wrung out, tenderised. You never thought you'd say any of that. You're not sure you knew most of that.

But in Suo’s arms, plied open with his words and his hands, you actually find yourself shaking your head. You lean into the touch of his palm.

“I love you,” he continues, his tone so authoritative and calm that it leaves no room for doubt, “probably to the point that it should scare you. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” you say quietly.

“And we won't be separated. I won't allow anything to take you away from me. Do you understand that too?”

You make a noise, halfway between a relieved sigh and another sob. This declaration should not be a surprise from a man who’s effectively locked you up in his house. Still—your heart feels so light when you hear someone say, for the first time in your life, that they’ll stay with you no matter what. It's like Suo has just unearthed a weight that you didn't know you'd been carrying.

“I’ll try,” you reply, voice small.

“Good.” He strokes your cheek. “Do you want to keep going?”

It’s absurd. You just cried and confessed something terrifying. With anyone else, this would be an experience so horrifying that you'd leave right now and never come back. Your sexual desire should not just be gone, but permanently erased. At the very least, you shouldn't feel the slightest bit horny.

But somehow, being gutted by Suo hasn't left you feeling bad. It's left you feeling lighter. Kind of like you've been purged. You feel exhausted, but in a malleable way. Dazed and relieved to be in his lap. Your thighs are still embarrassingly sticky, heart still embarrassingly wobbly, and you just heard him say that he loves you.

Now you want to hear him say it while he's cumming inside you.

“Yeah,” you admit immediately, pathetically. You sniffle.

“You're sure?” Another stroke. “I want to hear you say it clearly. What do you want to do?”

Your dignity is gone. “I want you to fuck me.”

He smiles. A fond hum leaves him. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you feel a flutter in your belly. “I'll take care of you now.”

He kisses you this time, before he touches you. On the neck, on your jaw. You bare your nape to him, shivering at the feeling of his lips on your jugular, at his nipping teeth on your skin. You realise he's leaving marks, and with each one, you shudder. It feels so intimate. You're on a rooftop bar, in a skanky hostessing dress, crying and strung out—but this is the closest thing you've ever gotten to one of your fantasies about him. Not the nasty ones that you think about when you're home by yourself, but the ones you think of when you're in bed with various salarymen. The ones where you get to lie with him in bed and press your lips to his.

“Suo,” you start.

“Hayato,” he corrects you. “You're my fiancée now, remember? We should be on a first name basis.”

Your stomach flips. “Hayato,” you try again, breathless. “Please.”

He takes a moment to reply, busy sucking another mark into your skin. “Please, what?”

You hesitate. Suo pulls back, looking at you. You whine, feeling shy all of a sudden. You flirt for a living and yet you feel embarrassed about your request. It's humiliating.

“Please, what?” he repeats. His mouth is curled in a smile, and you can't tell whether it's endeared or entertained. “Please let you cum? Please fuck you?”

“Please kiss me,” you say, in a small voice.

Suo pauses.

“What?”

“Please kiss me,” you beg. Close to tears again, for some reason you don't know. You think it surprises him as much as it does you.

It takes him a moment to recover, but when he does, he gives you a look that’s fucking ravenous.

His thumbs away the wetness from your eyes. “You're so cute sometimes. Did you know that?”

You flush. Plenty of customers have called you cute, but none have had you feeling so indignant nor shy.

“I’m not,” you reply, “and stop that.”

“But it's true. And I want you to know it.”

Suo presses his mouth to yours before you can respond. You're so eager for him that you part your lips immediately. Your instinct is to make your first kiss with him messy and desperate, but he’s in full control, and he’s taking his time. His tongue is careful and precise. Full of intention. His lips are slow, languid, and lazy, like he's savouring the taste of you. A hand plays with the strap of your dress. You feel him slide it off your shoulder—the other one quickly follows—but you’re so absorbed in his kiss, you hardly pay attention.

You're vaguely aware of the breeze against your bare chest. One of his hands moving up, feeling out your curves. He hums into your mouth when his fingers ghost over your nipples, and they harden under his touch.

“Suo,” you whine as he teases them, and he pinches one of them, watching as you squirm.

“Hayato,” he corrects you promptly, and you give him a worn, teary look.

“Hayato.”

“Yes?”

“I need more,” you say quietly.

He smiles, clearly enjoying your desperation. “Be patient,” he teases you. “I’m getting there.”

He kisses a line along your jaw, down your neck. Traces your collarbone with the path of his mouth, works his way down to your breasts. At the same time you feel the heat of his tongue on your nipple, his hand reaches between your legs. You're so wet already that he doesn't need to work you open again—just sinks his fingers inside you until you're sighing for him.

You discover that when he's not antagonising you, Suo is frighteningly efficient with pleasuring you. He learns quickly how you like your tits played with, and how to fuck you so well with his fingers until you're gushing around them and keening. He said he'd take care of you, but you think he's mostly forcing all this pleasure from your body for his own enjoyment. There's no other explanation for how he keeps bringing you to the edge and pulling you back, swallowing each of your whines and complaints with his mouth. The only time he isn't kissing you is when you're begging—and you don't miss the way his breathing deepens every time you do.

But no matter how much you beg, he isn’t letting you cum.

“Look at the mess you're making,” he murmurs as he plays with your cunt. You're sitting between his legs again, your back against his chest. You can feel the length of his cock against your ass, and you hear how his breath hitches every time you squirm against it. Except for that one tell, he sounds completely unaffected by what he's doing—forced you to open your legs wide for him, spread your glistening folds to tease you. The leather beneath your ass is wet, ruined by your need.

“Hayato,” you whine.

“Just a little longer,” he promises, “and then I'll let you cum.”

Your mind is so fogged with pleasure at this point that you can't focus on anything other than Suo’s touch. You’ve actually forgotten where you are—not a truly private space, but part of a club. The girls would normally only come up if you put in an order, but you haven't for a while now.

Long enough for someone to check on you without warning.

You tense as soon as you hear the door open. You recognize the server—she knows you well, by face, stage name, and real name. Your eyes go wide as she calls for you. You try to sit up, close your legs, but Suo grabs one of your thighs and forces it open.

“Suo, wait—”

You whimper, incapable of words when his fingers push into you again. He starts fucking you with them, and in earnest this time—curling his fingers until they're pushing into your g-spot, doing it over and over and over. Your eyes roll back and you stop struggling, and Suo takes the opportunity to touch you with his other hand too, playing with your clit. A strangled moan leaves you as the heat in your gut ratchets up. Pleasure swells in your belly; you feel like you're going to burst.

“Suo,” you cry, tears pricking your eyes, “wait, wait, my coworker—wait, I think—I think I'm gonna—”

“Go ahead,” he says into your ear, voice silky, and he pushes against your sweet spot in a way that gives you no choice but to obey him.

You cum so hard that you squirt all over the seat. Your whole body is wracked with intense pleasure—hips bucking violently, legs twitching, crying so loudly and shamelessly that your coworker naturally hears. She catches you spread wide open in Suo’s lap, his fingers deep in your messy, swollen cunt as you drench them.

Her tray clatters to the floor.

Fighting the mindless haze that your body is in, you glance at the other girl, whose hand is over her mouth. She looks appalled. She’s going to yell at you. But then you then watch, in real time, as her eyes travel to your customer’s face and she realises who he is. If she was red when she saw the two of you, she's now a pale white.

“Did you come to check on us?” Suo asks. He sounds amused. She flinches at his voice, and actually takes a step backward. “We’re fine for now. We’ll order something in a bit, and call you up here as usual.”

“O-okay,” she says, voice high and tense. “I—I’ll leave you two, then. Please—please enjoy yourself, sir. We'll be available in case you require any other services.” And she walks away briskly, almost in a run. She doesn't even bother to stop the expressly forbidden act that you're engaged in.

Once she’s gone, Suo allows you some dignity. He pulls his fingers out of you, lets you catch your breath.

“Oops,” he says. “It’s too bad they caught us. I suppose they won't want to keep you on as an employee, since you broke such an important rule.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. Your emotional and sexual pliability quickly dissipates, replaced by disbelief.

“You—you did that on purpose,” you say between pants, too fucked out to be truly angry, but still appalled.

Suo raises a brow, gives you an innocent look. “Did I? I was just making you cum, like you've been begging all night. It was just unfortunate timing.” He then smiles, which makes him look incredibly kind despite the apparent sadism of his person. “But it's fine. They're going to fire you for this, but you know my club will always take you back.”

You close your eyes and groan. “You’re horrible.”

“I am, aren't I?” Suo puts his arms around you, kisses you on the shoulder, his voice getting low. “But this is a better arrangement, don't you think? You won't need to see customers this way. Every time you need relief, you can come upstairs and I'll give you my cock instead.” He grinds against you, letting you feel how hard he is, and you whimper. He laughs, probably entertained at how desperate you sound. “Or maybe I'll just make you take it whenever I feel like it. I think at the end of every shift makes sense, doesn't it? Since that's how often you've been touching yourself on the couch.”

“S-suo.”

“It’s Hayato now, remember. What is it, dear?”

He sounds so smug, mocking you. You should be furious. But in your fucked out state, all you can focus on is the idea of being forced to take Suo's cock every night. Despite already being ruined, your pussy starts throbbing again. You squirm and press your thighs together, trying to get it to stop—you’re so fucking tired—and you bleakly realise that you can't control your body’s reactions around him. You're getting wet again. It makes you want to cry.

“Hayato,” you whimper, on the verge of tears.

“Ah, you addressed me properly. Good.” He’s so satisfied. “What is it?”

“I…”

“You?”

“I”—your voice is so small and embarrassed, you can hardly believe it—“I want you to fuck me.”

He feigns shock, as if he wasn't actively provoking this. “Really? But you just came.” A hand prods between your legs. You obediently spread them for him, and he checks your pussy with two of his fingers. You moan a little at the intrusion, but there's no resistance at all.

Your cunt, still dripping, tightens around him, and he laughs softly.

“You really do need a cock in you. Who knew you had such a needy pussy.” He curls his fingers. Probably feeling the way it makes you gush, delighting in the gasp it draws out of you. “No wonder you have to use that toy every day.”

You're about to die of embarrassment. “Hayato. Please just fuck me.”

Suo turns you so that you can look at him. He’s wearing a kind, benevolent face when he says, “No.”

“...what?”

“I'm not going to give you my cock.” He hums, contemplative. “Not for a while, I think.”

“B-but,” you say, genuinely upset, “but you were just talking about doing that at work.”

“Sure—after we get married. It's only proper, don’t you think?”

“What?” Your eyes are wide in disbelief. “You—you just made me cum with your fingers. In a public space.”

“Yes. But that's different from letting you have my cock. It wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to do that before we’re wedded.” He can't keep the amusement out of his voice as he bullies you. “I'm sure you can wait until the summer, right? Since that's the season you chose for us. August, I think you told Nirei.”

“Hayato—”

“Actually,” he muses, easily sliding a third finger into you, making your voice clip off in a whimper, “I think you shouldn’t be allowed to have anything in you until then. Except for my fingers and tongue, of course. But no toys, and no other men either. That definitely wouldn't be proper.”

“I'm going to,” you say spitefully—and tearfully. “If you don't fuck me right now, I will sleep with other people.”

“I don't think you want to find out the consequences if you do.”

“How would you even—ngh—know?”

“Good question.” He starts pumping his fingers, and to your horror, your cunt needily swallows them with each motion, your body as desperate as he's been saying. “I guess I'll need to check your pussy every night. See if it's been stretched out by someone else’s cock. Maybe upstairs in the lounge at the end of each night, so I'll know that you haven't fucked a customer during a shift. Clearly, it's not impossible that you would.”

You try not to sob. Not only are his words utterly humiliating, they're making you wetter. After fucking so many people in so many ways, you didn't know it was possible for you to feel this much shame during sex—but then again, shaming people is one of Suo’s specialties.

You give him the teariest look possible, because by now you've figured out that he likes seeing you cry. Sadistic motherfucker. You're happy to use it to your advantage though.

He gets that hungry look in his eye again. “Please, Hayato,” you beg, voice trembling with need, “I want more. I thought I was your beautiful wife already.” You grind your ass against his cock, and he inhales sharply. “Don't you wanna cum in your wife’s pussy?”

Suo stops, deeply affected—just as you guessed he'd be. After making you his fake wife in both his criminal life and his civilian one, it's painfully obvious that the man is obsessed with marrying you. You'd make fun of him if you weren't so horny. Or humbled.

He only allows himself speechlessness for a second. He hums soon after, delicately wiping the tears out of your eyes. “You've been good enough that I guess I can reward you. I won't fuck you, but”—he shifts away, and you can hear his pants unzipping—“I’m sure you'll enjoy yourself anyway.”

Suo wasn't lying earlier. His cock is bigger than any toy you've ever used. It's pretty, too. Curved and long and flushed at the head. Glistening with prespend, which has pearled up at the tip. You think you might be salivating. For a minute, you contemplate asking if you can feel it in your throat, but then Suo’s lying down and moving you on top of him. When his cock nudges at your folds, you can’t help your excitement. You squirm, trying to sink onto his length.

His grip tightens on your waist, stopping you.

You’re about to whine at him about this, but he doesn't give you the chance. “If you try to ride me,” he says, in a voice so cold that you know he's not joking, “I'm not touching you until we’re married, and I'm not letting you touch yourself either.”

“...”

With anyone else you'd call bullshit, but you know that Suo is both crazy and petty enough to actually achieve this.

“Okay.” You sound and feel mollified. “I'll behave.”

He smiles. “Good,” he says cheerfully. “Just stay like that, then. I’ll take care of you.”

You listen to him, mostly because you're incredibly excited about getting pussy inspections and you'll be devastated if it doesn't happen. And you don't expect it to be a big deal, anyway. While your sex drive has been a constant source of grief for you throughout your life, you don't really have problems controlling any specific impulses in bed when you truly need to. You’re used to giving your customers whatever they want and, if you're lucky, getting off from it. You figure this will be the same.

You find out very quickly that it isn't.

You need to stay still. You can’t sink down on him. Two easy orders that are extraordinarily difficult when Suo is the one beneath you. You have to actively stop your hips from moving when you feel the silky head of his cock press into your folds, which are still dripping with your slick. Suo’s breath hitches when he runs the tip along your opening, drawing wet noises every time his cock head catches on your needy hole, smearing his precum all over it. All you want is to push back on him and let your pussy swallow his cock. You’re aching for it, and you know he is too. If you sank down on him now, he'd lose control and fuck you raw until he was cumming inside you. And then he'd probably keep going after that, not letting you move until you were stuffed full and dripping with his spend. Both of you know it.

But you don't do that. You're good for him. You sigh, just trying to enjoy the feeling of his length rubbing against you. How he's twitching and throbbing against you, how he wants as equally much to be inside you—but pulls back every time. Your mind goes a little fuzzy with the drawn out, low hum of pleasure, and you close your eyes.

Then he starts pushing into you.

“H-Hayato?” You whimper at the intrusion, at being made to take something so thick without warning. “I thought you weren't gonna—”

“I'm not,” he says. His breathing is heavier, his words strained, but his voice is still commanding when he says, “Don’t move.”

Suo doesn't give you the whole thing, just the tip. It is much harder to control yourself like this—when you can feel yourself getting stretched by the head of his cock, already so fat and heavy, but you don't get filled up by it. It makes you aware of how empty you are, and how wet you're getting. You bury your face into his neck and make a noise that's both tearful and pathetic.

It's not acting when you whine, in a watery, miserable way, “Please, Hayato. I need your cum in me.”

It's probably the crying that gets him. He inhales sharply, thrusting maybe a little deeper than intended. You groan at the extra inch of cock, eyes rolling back, and can't help the way your pussy tightens and drips, trying to suck him in.

“Fuck,” he says, and then he pulls out.

He lays you flat on your back. Before you can get so much as a word out, he's between your legs and pressing his cock against your entrance. For possibly the happiest moment of your life, you think Suo is going to fuck you—but instead he starts pushing the slick head of his cock right against your neglected clit.

You aren't going to complain.

You whimper as he starts rubbing against your sex, leaving his prespend all over your swollen bud. It makes you squirm, grinding yourself against it, and you press your legs together to get some more pressure for the both of you. Soon his cock is sliding between your thighs, getting them all sticky with his prespend. You can feel the length of him hot and slick against your folds, heavy and throbbing.

You've never cum like this before. It was never enough stimulation when your customers made you do this, which nearly all of them have. But the pressure on your clit and on your folds is shockingly intense as the two of you move, enough to make you whimper as a familiar tension builds. It's not as overwhelming as when his fingers were inside you, but it's enough for you to start panting at the tension in your belly. You can hear Suo’s breath picking up as you start to whine, and he watches you, almost predatorial, as another orgasm crashes over you. You moan his name as you cum, squeezing a few more tears out of your eyes.

He stares at your flustered, wet face as he pushes the head of his cock against your entrance again, fisting himself as it flutters and drips in the aftershock of your orgasm. Suo’s been hard for so long, for the whole time he's teased and bullied you—you aren't surprised at how close he already is. Especially not when you start talking about how much you need his cum in you, how empty your pussy feels without it, how badly you want your husband to fill you up. All with your mascara smeared and your lip trembling, a sight that makes him throb.

Suo groans as he finally cums. You can feel his cock twitching, warmth spurting out onto your folds, and then into your pussy as he thrusts shallowly into you. You pull him down needily as he fills you, and he indulges you with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

When he pulls out, you can feel his cum drip out of you, all the way down to the couch. You make a happy noise at the mess he's made of your hole, giving him a lovestruck, dreamy expression.

“You should do that every night after you're done checking my pussy,” you sigh.

Suo’s mouth curls, and breathes out a kind of laugh. He holds your face, and one of his tassels brush against the shell of your ear as he presses his forehead to yours. “I’ll do it if you're good for me.”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour until our wedding night,” you promise, voice affectionate.

Suo gives you a fond look. His expression is so sentimental. You think he’s going to say something sweet.

“Alright,” he replies. “Then be good for me and keep the rest of that inside you, okay? Let’s not make a mess of these floors. I don't want to get blacklisted from this club.”

You open and close your mouth, completely speechless.

“You're fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, and he laughs and kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you. He doesn't stop until you're placated and horny again.

Suo takes his sweet time pushing his cum into you as deeply as possible, saying that it's to make sure you don't lose any of it, but really so he can draw another orgasm out of you. Knowing that the mamasan might take pity on you and think that you were coerced into degrading sexual acts by a terrifying yakuza client, he makes sure to order a drink beforehand, calling up a server. (I don't want to be a bad patron, he hums as he looks at the tablet, and I said I'd get you to the number 1 ranking, right?) It subsequently looks, sounds, and is completely consensual when you're found pulling at Suo’s hair, keening as he fingers his cum into you while sucking on your clit.

This leaves you with no hope of continued employment on all of Keisei Street.

To add insult to injury, you do make a mess of the floors, despite Suo’s conscientious efforts to avoid this—though it's not as bad as the one you left on the couch. You also can't find your thong anywhere, which you guess is something else that the mamasan won’t appreciate when she finds it. Still, for the rest of the night, everyone shows Suo nothing but the utmost respect and highest quality customer service. They even ask how he found your company and if he has any feedback for you. He praises your conversational skills, karaoke abilities, and how capable you were in catering to his many needs. He also lets them know that you'll be resigning.

Hanzo and Shuuhei are waiting to pick you up, bringing the Rolls Royce with the privacy suite. This time, Suo doesn't use it to interrogate you; he instead uses it to kiss you and tease you and discuss wedding plans. If it'll be indoors or outdoors. If you'll have a big reception or a small one. If it'll be a traditional wedding, or if you’ll want a Chinese one like the one your master would have maybe liked to see. You settle on having a Shinto ceremony and a Chinese-style reception. Having been raised Chinese, whenever Suo imagined marrying during his teenage years, you were always in a red qipao. His master even once told him that if he managed to win your heart, he'd organise a tea ceremony and act in the role of Suo’s father.

After disclosing these facts (the first of which makes your heart weak, and the second of which leaves it aching), he asks about any long-standing things you've always wanted to do with him as a couple. If you had any silly or indulgent daydreams about your future with him, and what they were like.

“I don't know,” you admit. “I guess after you applied to teacher’s college, I liked the idea of marrying you, and doing all the domestic things you talked about. Though you were just joking at the time.”

You don't really expect him to remember much about this particular line of teasing. Sure, the man is currently obsessed with marrying you, and maybe he daydreamed about it a little bit when he was younger—but he mostly treated the idea as a funny joke when he was a teenager. All of the teasing has probably blurred together for him over the years. Certainly, it has for you.

But you've never been able to forget this particular memory. It’s one of those small, inconsequential moments that you find yourself incapable of letting go to this day. You loved hearing him talk about getting married, even though it hurt immensely that it was probably just teasing. You loved it because you wanted it. You wanted Suo to teach people because you knew he was good at it and it would make him genuinely happy. You wanted to stop working in the red light district and make a nice and safe home for Suo, just as he'd made a nice and safe home for you. And you wanted to marry him and kiss him and have sex with him and only him for the rest of your life.

You wanted it so badly, it still makes you heart ache to think about it.

He was definitely just teasing you, though. Suo was a sane person at the time, and sane people do not actually plan a marriage and life with someone before dating them or even fucking them. Most importantly, a sane person wouldn't hold onto such a silly joke for so long. Oh, you expect him to say, laughing. You're right, I had nearly forgotten.

But all he does is give you a smile. It's one of his strange, enigmatic ones.

“No, I was quite serious about it,” Suo says, looking right at you.

You stare at him.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He's being so straightforward, so earnest. Your typical reaction would be to feel flustered, sentimental—but something about his expression and tone bothers you. But before you can suss out what it is, he continues, and the moment passes.

“Was there anything else you ever wanted to do?” he asks smoothly.

You're startled, off-guard. “Oh, um… not really. I never let myself think too much about it.”

“Come on,” he prods. “There must be something.”

“No, I really didn't think of any ideas on my own. Although…”

Your face gets hot as you trail off. Suo senses weakness, and goes in for the kill.

“Although?”

“It's too embarrassing,” you admit, looking away, and Suo looks a little too interested as he pesters you for an answer.

“Come on, it's fine.” His mouth curls in a way that tells you it's not fine. “I promise I won't judge you. I just want to know what I can do to make you happy as your husband.”

You give him an uncertain look, and say your only concrete fantasy about him so quickly and quietly that he misses it.

“Pardon?” he asks.

“...romantic, vanilla sex.”

Suo blinks. “What?”

Your face burns with humiliation.

“I used to think about having romantic, vanilla sex with you. When I was a teenager. A lot.” Said as if you weren't just thinking about it two months ago in a love hotel, and still don't want it now. You wouldn't even bring it up if you didn't think it was necessary. But unfortunately, you're professionally skilled at perceiving people’s sexual interests, and you've perceived that Suo is sexually a freak. He was definitely going easy on you tonight, and is probably actively planning to get worse. You'll never have normal sex with him unless you explicitly state a desire for it.

Suo gives you a surprised look. “That's… a very mundane fantasy.”

“It wouldn't have been mundane to me,” you reply, somewhat defensively. “I used to think about it when I slept with my customers, who weren't very romantic. Or vanilla. So I didn’t really have a good reference point or anything for that kind of sex, but sometimes I still thought about doing it with you after they had left.”

You look away after saying this, wondering why you disclosed all of that. It certainly wasn't necessary for your dream of someday taking Suo’s cock without being psychosexually tortured first. Now you feel like you need to hide. You even think about excuses for stopping the car, and ponder again how difficult it would be to live without proof of identity, if you chose to run away.

But Suo doesn't let you run. He pulls you close to him, wrapping you up in his warmth.

“It's okay,” he says gently, in a voice that reminds you of how he was in his old Furin days. “You'll be okay. I'll make sure of it.” It confuses you deeply, and you turn to ask him what the fuck he's going on about.

You don't even realise you're crying until he starts kissing away your tears.

You can’t understand why you’re weeping. Maybe something strange and hormonal happened while you were having sex, like Suo made you orgasm too hard and all the oxytocin is making you depressed now. Though you think that hormone is supposed to make you happy. You're not sure. You never finished school, so you wouldn't know.

Whatever the reason, you hastily wipe away your tears. A hand rubs at your back, and you let yourself press your face into his shoulder.

“Sorry,” you say quickly.

“Don't apologise. You don't have anything to be sorry for.”

You hesitate as you breathe against the silk threads of his shirt, thinking about how many of his shirts you've ruined with your tears. At least three changshan and one Versace summer piece, by your count. It’s not like he hurts over the money these days, but guilt tugs at your heart.

“I don't know about that,” you mumble into his shoulder. And it takes a while to work yourself up to saying it, but eventually you whisper, with full honesty, “I'm sorry for always worrying you.”

“I know,” Suo says. He sounds sincere when he says, “I’m sorry too.”

“I’ll try to be better from now on.”

“You will be. And even if you aren’t, that's fine.”

For some reason, that makes your heart squeeze.

You melt against Suo after that, listening to the steady roll of tires and passing traffic outside. There's a gentle pitter patter of rain against the car roof, tinny and rhythmic, that gradually crescendos into a proper storm. The windshield wipers squeak against the glass. All of the noise is lulling you into a kind of peace, or maybe you're just feeling that way because Suo is holding you.

Fatigue wears your consciousness, and you close your eyes. The hustle and bustle of the red light district grows distant, faint—partly from slipping in and out of your dreams, and partly from the quieting world outside. It's now completely silent other than the heavy rainfall. You think they must be taking the road through Makochi. Suo asks for it whenever he wants you to sleep well.

He probably thinks you're asleep when he says, “I’m sorry for being how I am now.”

You almost stop breathing. Almost.

“You didn't fall in love with me when I was like this, so you must not like it very much,” he continues. “I know that Master wouldn't like me much either, if he were alive. He always said that you should support your loved ones until they can stand on their own two feet. But lately, I feel like all I've been doing is breaking yours.”

He sighs. The sky groans with distant thunder.

“Sakura knows who I really am, you know,” he says quietly. “I think he's worried about what'll happen to you if we get married. Though he’s been worried about you for a while.” Suo almost sounds endeared when he adds, “Did you know he only texts me now to ask if you're okay? He really does love you.”

He’s more sombre when he continues, “But Nirei is just afraid of me. That’s why he’s never around. He’s going to call you in a week and tell you not to go through with the wedding. He’ll probably tell you to leave me too. It’s good advice.”

It's hard to keep your breathing slow, with how badly your heart hurts.

“I’ve tried to go back to how I was, to the kind of person that Master was trying to raise,” Suo confesses. “But I don't think I can get better.”

But even if you can't, you want to tell him, that’s fine. You wish you could hold him how he's always held you.

“It doesn't usually upset me nowadays,” he admits after some time, “how I am now. But to be honest, talking about our school days did make me feel bitter, because I can't give you the things I know you wanted.”

He kisses the top of your head. Gently, so as not to wake you from your dream.

“I'm sorry I never became a teacher. I'm sorry I joined the yakuza. I'm sorry I can't give you a normal life. And I'm sorry I can’t have an honest conversation with you.”

Silence. You feel his chest stop briefly, his breathing deepen.

“Maybe someday, I'll get better enough to say these things to you while you're awake. Maybe someday, I'll even get better enough to let you leave. It would be best for you.”

His voice gets even softer. Tender.

“But for now, I don't know how to let you go.”

You feel a hand shifting away, the soft noise of leather against skin. Then both arms around you again, even warmer, even tighter. He’s leaning his head against yours. You think Suo is falling asleep.

Allowing yourself a single, quick glance at the car, you peer at your reflections in the rearview mirror. You see sheets of rain sliding against the back window, his dark lashes pressed to his skin, and all the scar tissue he likes to keep hidden away.

And you can see, very clearly, tears beneath his missing eye.

END 'TOKYO VICE'

hi everyone thanks for reading this chapter!!!! i hope it didn't disappoint after all the shitposting i did about it this week lol

can i just say. this was straight up the weirdest sex scene I've ever written HASLKFJSDF and the mood whiplash throughout this was probably the craziest i've ever written within a single piece. unfortunately, this reader copes with her trauma via humour and sex and it really shows rip. i hope it wasn't too offputting!

thank you to everyone who left a comment on part 1!! please do let me know if you enjoyed part 2 as well. <333

tagging @kweenkatsuki-fics and @stuckindreamland06!

[specialagentartemis]

I’ve increasingly seen the take that Gurathin, being the only one of the PresAux group originally from the CR, understands SecUnits better than the others and understands corporate greed and underhandedness and violence better than his idealist space socialist leftist colleagues… which always rings odd to me, because it’s well established that Mensah and Pin-Lee understand what they’re dealing with as intelligent, savvy professionals!

Mensah is the Planetary Administrator of Preservation; she is very nearly the President of the Whole Planet. It’s hard to believe she could get there and be regarded as a good leader of a small planet with neither military nor economic power in the galaxy and remain unaware of how the Corporation Rim works and how to deal with them to keep her polity safe. The company executives presented Murderbot to Mensah directly in their pitch for why the team needed to take a SecUnit; her multiple objections to this indicate that she does, in fact, know how unethical (and likely dangerous) SecUnits are.

Pin-Lee, meanwhile, is a corporate lawyer; she’s described as CombatUnit-like, and based on the fact that she went not only with this scientific survey but also with Mensah at the end of Network Effect on this short-notice and desperate chase across the galaxy, seems to be the go-to person to deal with off-world legal issues. Murderbot notes early on that being under the Company’s surveillance seemed to affect her more than the others. It’s pretty reasonable to assume that’s because she knows what shit companies put in their contracts, and what they do.

They aren’t naïve leftists who don’t understand how the Real World works, they are well-too-aware of the abuses and surveillance and callousness of companies!

(Ratthi watches Sanctuary Moon, evidently a CR production—Preservation aren’t isolationists. The whole Preservation backstory is of a community’s escape from callous, profit-driven corporate abandonment of their grandparents’ generation to die. I would think Preservation people would be, as a society, aware and very wary of CR corporations.)

Their trust they place in Murderbot in All System Red is very likely influenced by Preservation’s cultural values of dignity, support, freedom, responsibility to each other, bot citizenship, all that good stuff—but it’s certainly not blindly, naïvely unaware of alternative possible perspectives. And that’s why it’s powerful: they’re making a conscious choice, measuring its actions and its rights as a person against the propaganda and fear, that Murderbot deserves that respect and dignity and freedom and trust as a person and not just as an arm of untrustworthy corporations.

(And like. Also the fact that “Gurathin is from the CR” is not explicitly canon, either. We don’t know where he’s from originally; the CR is a reasonable interpretation, certainly, it fits the facts, but it’s still an interpretation that fans have to make rather than actually being text. And I think in these discussions that ought to be remembered too. )

[signanothername]

How do you feel about the fandom?

I’m assuming you mean Ut/utmv?

How can I say this in the most gentle way possible hmm..

I genuinely do love the creativity within the fandom, the beautiful art and stories and ideas people come up with, the different interpretations of these characters even when i don’t agree with them or have my own thoughts/opinions, cause that’s what fandoms are supposed to, it’s all of us showing our love for these lil blorbos of ours in each of our own unique different ways

Of course, each fandom has its good and bad side, but to say the ut/utmv fandom is so damn negative to the point it’s suffocating is an understatement

I’m especially weirded out by the pro harassment behavior within this fandom, like, a mf would say “i’m anti harassment!!!!” Then turn around and post/reblog a post with +20 people name dropped to “raise awareness” for whatever little that is worth, you can “raise awareness” by messaging people privately, not make a list where an asshole can easily use it to harass people, and no, saying shit like “don’t harass these people!!!” Does not alleviate any responsibility from you if they do get harassed because of your post

That’s why messages are a thing, and only messaging those who explicitly state they want to be messaged, not jump in into people’s inboxes or messages and telling them shit out of the blue

So many people within this fandom need to learn fandom etiquette, how to mind their own business, and to use the damn block button, you’re uncomfortable with a certain subject? Tumblr has the most handy filtering system, don’t like a person/find them uncomfortable? Block them, blocking them isn’t enough and want to complain? That is what you can use your blog for, feel free to complain on your own blog to your heart’s content (not on other people’s blogs or under their posts if it’s not the subject for it) that’s what friends are for too, go to their DMs and complain till the end of time

Being just a bit bigger of an artist follower wise in comparison to other artists means that I deal with very special cases sometimes, because I’m also puzzled by the way people can get super comfortable with commanding strangers to do things they want or to break basic respectful boundaries like not getting people involved in drama even when they specifically state not to include them (me, I’m starngers, every time I reblog my boundaries post, it’s me implying that I got something that broke my very basic bitch boundaries that day, which says a lot about the fandom, cause i literally only got 4 boundaries stated damn)

That’s why I opt to not get too close to people within the fandom, and am generally careful as to who I let close to me, I’m very certain people might think I somehow have my own social circle within the fandom or have some wide connections they can never get, when in reality I’m isolated af

That being said, idk if it’s young people not knowing any better, or adults who act like children, but the fact harassment is very prominent and also very normalized within the fandom is something that definitely made me seriously think of just getting back to the Transformers fandom (one of the most chill fandoms i’ve ever been part of)

Fandom is fandom, keep it for rambling about blorbos, and learn to mind your own business <3

[atoriv-art]

what are your thoughts on the hyuga siblings and their relationship

OOF now thats one of my favorite naruto dynamics lmao. i think neji and hinata have a very interesting relationship and i say that as someone who really didn't (and tbh still doesn't) love how that relationship developed in canon

i really like the hyuga fight in the chunin exams because the way it's perceived is sooo interesting to me.. neji comes off as an outright bully and i don't even blame the kids for calling him an asshole after all of that, but from reader's perspective it's really obvious that his animosity only exists because of a larger issue...

neji shouldn't treat hinata the way he does, but he does so because of her unique position as a scorned heir. she still benefits from everything that makes his life awful - her life is still valued more than his - but hiashi hates her enough that he won't care if neji dishes out verbal abuse on her. it's an awful dynamic and definitely contributes to hinata's terrible self-worth, but it's a symptom of the life they have been forced into by the man who the manga is intent on letting escape all of the blame for this situation lmao

(hiashi himself can be a really fascinating case honestly. i think he fully means everything he says, which is what makes him so grating but fun to me LOL. his apology to neji is entirely sincere AND it completely misses the point of all of the issues, but neji is young and deprived of acknowledgement enough that he accepts it wholeheartedly. hiashi thinks he's the best uncle of all time.)

hinata herself has so little belief in her own worth that she just sits there and takes whatever abuse people throw at her... i don't actually think neji's anger towards her was a constant - i think some people interpret it that way - rather i feel like it was something that came up whenever he was pushed too far. in more normal circumstances where he's not being made to fight her directly, he was likely more detached than anything. he wanted nothing to do with her.

in one of the filler mini arcs ive mentioned before (i think. the one that focuses on hanabi and hinata) there's a scene that rang very true to me (and im gonna recount this without rewatching it atm so sorry if i get details wrong,): neji was being made to train with hinata, asked to be allowed to leave because he felt his time was being wasted and correctly noted that it doesn't have to be him here, was told no by hiashi and then he started getting vicious and violent. towards hinata, of course, not hiashi. he then got horribly punished for it LOL i think that's the general dynamic they were living in, neji reaches a limit of disrespect that he can take and explodes on the nearest most acceptable target (we loove a boy with no emotional regulation <3), goes too far and suffers the consequence of it while nothing else changes. to him interacting with hinata at all is just asking for pain, either emotional or straight up physical

But, for hinata, she saw herself and neji as similar (the black sheep of the family i suppose), and would have liked to bond over that fact; theyve known each other since they were very little and she outright refers to him as a brother. it's clear to me she's always cared a lot about neji and imo feels responsible for what happened to his father (something that hiashi doesn't help with. Dad of the year), so she saw their match in the exams as a chance to close the distance between them and get neji to see her as a person, an equal instead of a symbol to lash out on.

but, you know, she was 12 LMAO so she ended up pressing all of his buttons instead and it led to his famous outburst, which led to the famous moment of Every Single Jonin (other than asuma.) coming to stop him and further cementing his belief that her life is seen as special. i think (and this is a mix of Shit I Made up, and Me trying to make sense of the manga's insane mishandling of their plotline) that despite her trying her hardest to reach neji she didn't really grasp the horror of his situation. that's the tragedy of neji's life really LMAO, no one really tries to grapple with the severity of what having that curse mark does to a person. she thought of his fatalism as more of a psychological, metaphorical way of dealing with hurt and not like... "my life literally does not belong to me no matter how much i try to fight it"

this is loooooong take this readmore.

i think hiashi-hizashi were hoping that the cousins could have had a better relationship than they did... letting them hang out often and stuff, introducing them early, hizashi not discouraging neji from being friendly with her, to me it all reads as very "ok well this didn't work for Us, but what if it works out for them... even though literally nothing has changed". they were proper family once and hizashi wanted to die for his brother, not his leader, so that just makes sense to me.

i do nautttt like the naruto vs neji fight so to keep the post positive i will gloss over it <3 but hinata and neji's relationship post-chunin exams to me is peak like. God i wish this was done better because it could have been soooo good

neji realizes that his anger is consuming him and adjusts his behavior accordingly, getting a lot of his kindness back, and he becomes intent on fixing his relationship with hinata... i don't hate that premise at all, it's just the way it's executed that bothers me!

the impression i got (and i could be mistaken im in the process of rewatching the anime + rereading the manga) is that their relationship getting better is done exclusively through like. neji repenting for being mean to her. which, don't get me wrong, he SHOULD apologize (AND THAT WOULDVE BEEN A COOL THING TO SEE ONSCREEN, BTW) but you CANNOT divorce his behavior from the hyuga system in general. from the way they act after the exams you would think their issues were born solely from neji being a bully for no reason, and not, like... him lashing out on her because his uncle is literally the devil.

i don't think hinata has the power to change a lot in her clan on short notice (she did get disowned. did that un-happen offscreen? we will never know. Hiashi gets to be a grandfather to her children btw.) but i certainly would have liked to see her standing up for branch members and in the stuff i draw that's the story i have in mind LMAO. like, her gaining a deeper understanding of neji's situation and trying to work against her father trying to make her cousin's life better? i think that would have been really sweet and even show her gaining more confidence in herself and her beliefs. you can still have neji fussing over her and being protective because he feels bad for how they used to be, i actually really like that because neji IS a very sweet person, i just reject the idea that it's his sole Moral Obligation to put everything aside and make things better by the power of I Will Die For You Now, But This Time, For The Right Reasons

as for hanabi i wish she had more screentime soooo bad because i'm obsessed with how she gives off Haunted Child vibes lmfao. talking abt her requires me to expose myself a little bit and have to admit hiashi is kind of a blorbo to me because of how much he sucks ass, but like. Essentially his insane resentment of hinata was born when hizashi died, it doesnt matter it wasn't really her fault, he needed someone to blame and he would never blame himself, at least not outwardly lol. hiashi did genuinely love his brother, it just didn't stop him from being a monster to him, and he is certainly not gonna grapple with that now that he's dead!

(and, you know, the whole "sorry we sent a guy to kidnap an heir. you do need to die for killing him though" thing is really dumb but if we stop at every single stupid thing in naruto we will be here all day.)

with all that being said i think hiashi tries his best to make hanabi everything hinata isn't, and he has very little interest in having her and hinata have any bond at all. he just left neji and hinata to fester in that god-awful dynamic with no supervising, and took hanabi as the best direction for the clan to head towards. but, you know, father of the year is very demanding and doesn't seem to be very fatherly to her at all from the little we see of them. she's just like. a good soldier, and that's what he needs.

i think hanabi growing to resent her sister for the situation she's been put into (if hinata weren't 'weak' she wouldn't have so much responsibility) is very interesting! by the time we meet her i think she's learned that the best thing to do wrt her sister is to just ignore that she exists. as for neji he barely registers as a presence to her; neji has no reason to interact with her and hiashi has no reason to incentivize it. it's very fun to me!

in general i really like all of their dynamics can be used to explore how hurt and trauma drive people apart, i could talk about them for hourssss LMAO i love the suna family for the same reason!

[ryescapades]

Hi rye congrats on 1k! Can i have slice one with togame jo (windbreaker), nsfw prompt no 18? Tq in advance 💘

→ EVENT OVERVIEW

prompt: 18 - “you’re such a mess.” characters: togame jo (wbk) x afab!reader contents: nsfw mdni !! unprotected p in v, implied multiple orgasms, slight manhandling, tummy bulge, creampie, a bit of size kink, some pussy inspecting? mention of cum eating, petnames (baby & sweetheart), reader is physically smaller wc ~ 700

a/n: thank you sm for participating anon! <3 finally got around to start writing my event requests TwT as i’ve said before, updates are gonna be super slow bcs uni is still kicking my ass so take note of that !! first time writing for togame btw erm

“c’mon, y/n. you’re still with me?”

glassy-eyed and lightheaded, you feel the room spins as if in slow motion. literally and figuratively.

one second you were on your knees and cheek pressed onto the sheets, and the next your view suddenly changed to that of the ceiling. a pair of hands slides up from your waist to cradle your face, thumbs rubbing soft circles on the apple of your cheeks.

togame leans in, connecting your foreheads together before he gives you a small kiss. your lips easily meld together as you hum against him, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

his emerald gaze, his lips, his hands. everything about them feels delicate whenever they fall on you, as gentle as the leaves rustling in the wind, and soft in the way his warmth envelopes you like a pile of heated blankets on a cold winter night.

you’d almost cried at how wholesome his attention is, and how fulfilling his love is becoming. almost, if not for the way his hips rolls so hard into you that you’re starting to sob for an entirely different reason.

togame is by no means average-sized. barely halfway in and he’s already stretching you to the max, pressing in so deeply and ever so slightly in a tilted way that his cock curves perfectly upwards inside your sopping cunt. every single inch of him hits all the sweet spots inside you just right, sparks of pleasure bursting behind your eyelids as wanton moans escape from your mouth.

he eventually sets a rapid pace, his movement fluid and steady as the blunt tip of his cock starts to repeatedly hit the deepest part of your core. “that’s it, baby. you’re taking me so well,” he purrs in your ear, causing you to whine in response.

“f-fuck, ‘s so big,” you clench around his generous length as wet squelching sounds of your pussy echo in the room, skin slapping against skin as your cries and his grunts stringing together like a dirty symphony.

togame slips a hand behind your neck then, pulling you up for another kiss before he holds you there, heads leaning against each other to make you notice, to make you see what he’s doing to you.

you don’t realize it at first, too lost in the feeling of his cock dragging oh so deliciously in between your velvety walls. but when you finally get a good look at it, you’d nearly come right on the spot.

there’s a thick creamy ring around the base of his cock, courtesy of the previous rounds you’d had and how much he’d been cumming inside you, and when he drives himself home again inside your wet heat with that same crazy depth, same crazy angle, your stomach bulges with every thrust.

“shh, just feel me here, sweetheart,” he coos before his hand grabs one of yours, dwarfing it entirely before settling them both together on your lower belly, right where his thick cock continues to make that little bump on the skin.

it makes you dizzy, so freaking turned on and almost delirious at the sight as togame slams deeper into you. “jo… g-gonna cum - fuck,” tears blur your vision, your whimpers growing louder by the second when his other hand grips tighter on the back of your thigh.

“yeah? you like feeling yourself when you’re getting fucked like this, hm?” he presses down harder on your stomach with just the right amount of pressure and before you know it you’re already cumming so hard, your cunt squeezing and gushing around his dick as your breath gets knocked out of your lungs in a broken cry of his name.

he follows behind soon after, reaching his peak with a low groan of his own as you heavily pant from the exertion. running a hand through his sweaty onyx strands, togame briefly glances down at where the two of you are still connected and gradually pulls out, ignoring your slurred complaints about the sudden loss of warmth.

he curses under his breath, “fuck, baby. you’re such a mess.”

you’re sweating all over, hair disheveled on the pillow beneath your head as pearls of tears line the lashes of your eyes. his cum and yours fill your tight hole to the brim, the mixed liquids leaking past your pussy lips and trickling down your inner thigh when togame hooks a thumb on the side of your wet folds.

he inhales sharply, eyes focusing on the obscene view before he looks back at your fucked out expression with that heavily lidded gaze again.

“mind if i have a taste?”

am i starting off too strong with this one 🧍 anw ‘big dick togame🗣️’ the crowd (me) cheers

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[ughsecondblogsdontwork]

I don't watch a whole lot of television, so maybe I'm missing some perspective, but I've never seen a TV show where the Main Character was a fat gay man (or person in general, I'm not crazy enough to think they'd ever try to pull this with a fat lesbian for instance) where neither his sexuality or fatness were 1. An overt problem in the narrative or 2. The butt of routine or mean-spirited jokes. What We Do In the Shadows was awesome in so many ways, but it was also awesome because I got to see a gay and fat person do all kinds of shit as a main character without being constantly questioned or degraded for being fat! I really, really love Guillermo. He's a vampire slayer! An action hero! He looks cool, cute and sexy all at once in his action scenes- I love watching him grow as a character and stand up for himself, I love his jokes, he's really such a great character! So this final season sucked, right. Like this final season was total shit ass, I'm sorry. I'm so disappointed. I feel so let down. There are a million reasons why it sucked, but right now I just feel sad because of how everything turns out for Guillermo and the queer and fat representation in the show. First of all, it really threw me for a loop when the show opened with crazy fat jokes about Colin Robinson. That obviously did not land for me at all and why would it land for wwdits viewers? We are following a show where we are emotionally invested in a fat MC and we don't have a *problem* with fatness- so why would I think it's funny that Colin Robinson "got fat"??? Make it make sense lmao.

And I don't know why the fuck Nandor and Guillermo's entire relationship was abandoned. Did every single writer jump ship and get replaced by someone who's never seen the show or??? Well, it feels like a punch in the gut for a few reasons:

This show is supposedly "queer". Every known vampire is queer and Guillermo is gay. But the only consistent relationship is Nadja and Lazslo, which isn't a problem obviously we love them, but would it kill the show for there to be...? More visibly queer relationships? It's a show that insists its gay over and over again in word but not action. I don't care if Nandor and Lazslo like to fuck each other silly offscreen, and Nadja is also supposedly queer in some way, off screen- everything is conveniently off screen. Nandor and Guillermo did not *need* to get together, but the lack of explicit acknowledgement is weird. It just is.

Also, it would just be nice! Like am I crazy? Is it too much to ask for? To see a fat MC be in love and in a relationship not in spite of their appearance but just bc the other person likes them? I feel like every show with gay couples as main characters is a romance based show that is mostly About them getting together. Wwdits is so much fun because it's about so many things! But why couldn't this be *one* of those things? Can you think of a single show in the world right now where a fat queer main character is in a relationship and their looks or their sexuality are not the key point of conversation about the relationship? I can't! This was the perfect opportunity! Nandor and Guillermo fell into a well established relationship trope that had nothing to do with appearance or sexuality, and people who like that trope were naturally drawn to it. Why did they just spit on the whole thing? It makes no fucking sense.

Any response like "well sometimes unrequited love is a good plot" "X needed to grow and Y relationship was bad" "It's better this way because of XYZ" "It would have been toxic" this is a silly tv show about murderous vampires. Guillermo is also a murderer. There is just no possible way that a relationship between Guillermo and Nandor would have ruined the show lmao. It would have been fun! Remember when TV comedies were about being fun! I sure do! Apparently asking for a fun gay relationship between the queer main characters of the "queer TV show" is just too much to ask- better luck next time! Honestly, I feel so bitter lol. Bitter and sad. A show this fun and a cast this good deserved a waaaaay better ending all around. This post isn't even touching all the other weird shit and quite a lot of objectively bad shit that was wrong with the season

Before anyone gets all weird about my use of the word fat if you're not familiar with that, I am fat and I think fat is a neutral word and am trying to normalize the usage of it instead of substituting it with shit like "plus size". Fat is not an insult in the context of my words lol

[liondrakes]

Reposting my response since my alterhuman blog is currently shadowbanned:

I come from Toril, and for those who don't know, Toril is the world belonging to The Forgotten Realms of Dungeons & Dragons. To get to the long and short of it, Toril is one of the Planes' greatest magic magnets. My world is synonymous with chaos and high adventure for this exact reason, and what I'm about to tell you is just one example of that.

One of the wildest practices we have is planehopping. Although it didn't originate from Toril, it's certainly quite popular with residents of Toril.

If you're interested in good, old-fashioned fantasy fuckery, here's the rundown:

The realms that my source calls "campaign settings" exist as their own universes where I come from, independent from each other but capable of being accessed through either advanced levels of magic or the assistance of a Planar being. In terms of how people achieve these means, both sound harder than they actually are. All it takes is one overachieving wizard or one kiss-ass warlock to get the job done.

Individuals who regularly venture between these universes are known as Planehoppers. Ranging anywhere from seasoned wizards such as Mordenkainen to adventurous parties itching to become cosmic legends, planehopping culture is well-documented but hardly ever encouraged. If anything, it's in the same vein of things you'd argue over at Thanksgiving. Magic is not out of the norm whatsoever, but what type of magic you practice will always be squabbled over.

As one would assume, Planehoppers rarely stay in one realm after they depart from their realm of origin. Many pursue this lifestyle with individual goals in mind, whether it be Mordenkainen's quest to protecting The Balance (a cosmic force that is exactly as it sounds) or a ballsy adventurer looking for treasures across the realms.

Some individuals become Planehoppers as a rather extreme form of soul-searching. Spiritual Planehoppers take to the stars and explore the realms beyond to broaden their understanding of existence. They are the minority of Planehoppers; even so, their introspections create some pretty interesting spiritual and philosophical discourses.

Although planehopping is a point of contention in some realms (like my own), it is far from a new practice. In fact, there's a couple of civilizations that exposed the fabric of the Planes early on, forged their own means of travel and became culturally nomadic as a result. The most notable of which are Astral Elves.

Having left the Feywilds to further their knowledge, Astral Elves were the first spacefarers and would observe other realms from afar. Some members of the community argued that there was too much risk in entering the Material Plane and exploring its realms when they didn't originate from them.

Others insisted that this could establish interplanar diplomacies and unprecedented opportunities for future generations of Astral Elves. Lest they forget, this also meant an unrivaled wealth of knowledge for Elvenkind. All of it was in their midst and could be theirs if they took the chance. Unsurprisingly, this led to division.

Some Astral Elves weren't wrong in being cautious, however. Constant planehopping isn't without its consequences. Time passes differently from realm to realm. Depending on how far a neighboring "setting" is from one's own, a simple visit for a couple of hours could've been a couple of years in your realm's time.

Following up on the previous bulletpoint, traveling from realm to realm is one thing. After all, most campaign settings exist within the Material Plane. Traveling from plane to plane is a completely different case. Why? It's because Planes are the very layers of our reality. Traveling from the Material Plane to the Outer Planes, for example, would have the most extreme effect out of any venture, likely causing centuries (at most, a millennium) to pass when one returns to their realm.

This affects one's biological clock as well. Getting adjusted to the passage of time is never easy, no matter how experienced one is. That's because traveling feels so sudden when it wasn't sudden at all. Reckless planehopping is a fast way to fuck up your life, because unwittingly, you're stretching out your age like elastic. Astral Elves are nearly immortal because of this.

Mind you, this isn't even touching on the fact that some beings have interplanar/dimensional counterparts of themselves.

Most Planehoppers are fortunate enough to not cross paths with them if they have any, but those odds are never zero!

I hope this was of interest. I had fun to talking about this!

I want to hear about other worlds. Tell me something about your world, please

[miscling]

misc is locked in chastity...

until the 12th of march, at 6.30pm. these are the rules that it has to follow!

a trusted dominant who wants to play with it can order it to take off the belt for their pleasure. it is allowed to touch and stimulate itself with their permission or orders.

if this thing finds itself in a situation where it is practical to do so, it should offer the keys to others to hold. it must try to be in control of its keys as little as possible.

the belt is to be worn over its diapers (hereafter named 'its crinkly chastity belt') it is allowed to take off the belt for hygiene reasons like changing its crinkly chastity belt, and touch itself to clean itself, but not to stimulate itself.

time spent out of the belt must be recorded and this record may be requested by trusted dominants. the record must record how many minutes were spent out of the belt (rounded up to the next whole minute) and the reason why. time spent on hygeine need not be earned back, but time spend out of the belt for rule 1 or other reasons does.

it can beg to have time out of the belt. it is expected that it will be told no, teased for asking, and reminded that it belongs in chastity. it is to encourage others to tease it as much as possible over its chastity.

it can be told to repeat its chastity mantra: this thing belongs in chastity, its cunt knows where it belongs.

it can be chastity checked by anyone, requiring it to show them that it is still wearing its belt. it still has the option to safeword if it feels the request is inappropriate.

trusted dominants may add to this list and provide this thing with new rules. these rules remain fluid and subject to consent.

it owes the time on its chastity to many folks and would like to offer thanks to the following:

@bubblegumgothglados and @butchwolfmom who both really wanted to be the one who put it in chastity for the longest. it has no idea who won. this thing loves you both very much! especially as butchwolfmom is responsible for the mantra, and glados created the blog 'justmakingthistolockmiscmore' for those extra notes...

@disastermommy for being the main reason we even thought to get a chastity belt. faefae loves you! also to @enby-foxx for general chatting and advice. and finally to @locktober-sharing who has also been taking care of faefae and supports a lot of folks who are all locked up.

it also appreciates its friends and followers who went above and beyond and were responsible for at least a day each... @laoruna, @girlcumdrunk, @gayhornythoughts, @giraffe-with-a-gun, and @thekinkycorvid. y'all are folks it recognises and thinks of fondly!

finally, thank you to @korgler, @aritawinterwind, @switchygaybutterfly, @whydoiexsistinthisplane, and @irisjaxx665 who contributed big chunks too!

[andro-dino]

Tired and sick, may I get some Once upon a withlight headcanons to ease my weary soul?

aaa hope you feel better soon snuggles 🫶

this is one I actually have to put a little brain power into bc I actually haven’t thought super hard about this

- I think kremy and Gideon never verbally apologize to each other after a fight, both of them are way too prideful and awkward for that. Kremy I think would take it like a mom who cuts up fruit for you instead of apologizing. He doesn’t explicitly acknowledge that anything happened or is wrong but Gideon will be moping in the corner and kremy will be like “I made dinner, are you gonna come eat with me or what?” and instantly all is resolved. On Gideon’s part, I think it’s a combo of big sad puppy eyes and acts of service, just constantly going out of his way to do things for kremy to try to make up for it. I think gid does that a lot just anyways but he goes especially hard on it when he’s trying to apologize after a fight

- also coalecroux focused, these guys are so weird about physical affection. it’s either they are extremely awkward and strange about it or they are literally inside each others skin, no in between. Like I think with these two having been together for as long as they have, they have very naturally gotten super used to constantly hanging on to each other and having their arms wrapped around each other like second nature, neither of them even really realize they do it, but the SECOND anyone comments on it or causes them to think about it for even a second, they are instantly ten feet apart from each other and all awkward and sputtery about it. freaks, I hate them (affectionate)

- Frost is the kind of person who will appear to be completely doing his own thing and not paying attention at all when other people are talking but he is actually extremely engaged in the conversation, he just doesn’t feel the need to hold eye contact or stop doing what he’s doing (which is probably like reading a book or something similar which would appear to hold all his attention). Gricko is the most used to this and entirely unfazed by it but it takes most others a little while to understand it

- Gideon and Twig scheme about pranks to pull on frost together. Either that or just ganging up to make fun of him (affectionate) in general

- Twig tries to help show torbek how to clean and take care of his fur a little more. He’s not particularly good at it on his own but he’s trying and he appreciates it immensely

- frost. Kitty tendencies. he tries like really really hard not to show most of his cat qualities very often bc he does not want to draw attention to them but he has found himself making biscuits around people without realizing more than once

- Hootsie with each of the different krew members I think are all very fun dynamics. Frost is father #2 to her and will usually be the one taking care of her if gricko cannot as he is generally the most responsible and capable when it comes to taking care of her, though he will definitely sneak her more rat snacks than she’s supposed to have. Kremy is like the rich gay aunt who will absolutely spoil her rotten if given the opportunity. He never means to but he can never resist doing so. He will go full Karen mode to give her the world. I imagine hootsie in Gideon’s care like one of those movies where the plot revolves around a babysitter and the kid their watching going on a big wacky adventure and needing to get home before the parents do, and no matter zany the hijinks, they will always get back home and act like absolutely nothing happened when the parents do get home. He is one of hootsie’s favorite to play and cuddle with but he should probably not be solely responsible for her for extended periods of time. Torbek and hootsie are like bffs and also are great cuddle buddies but similarly he should never be left solely responsible for her it would not go well.

[dathen]

The Starecrossed discord is now up and running!

This is for fans of the Childermass/Segundus ship from Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell. Members 18+ are welcome, so please confirm that you’re 18 or older when you DM.

I may be 10 (tv show) or 20 (book) years late to the party but these two aren't leaving me alone. "Dathen you really don't need to create a discord server for everything you get obsessed with" okay but consider: I had two (2) enablers

Please check out the rules below, and shoot me a message if you'd like an invite!

Racism, fatphobia, transphobia, aphobia, identity policing, etc. will not be tolerated. This is an inclusionist, queer-supportive space.

Be respectful to each other. We’re all here to have fun and together, but that will all hinge on how we treat each other! Please be respectful of others' boundaries, ideas, and preferences. Avoid cutting people off to change the subject mid-conversation. Keep in mind that we have members who are ESL, neurodivergent, etc, and may not be on the same page re: tone and jokes. All members are expected to generally interact on an adult level and take responsibility for their behavior.

Don't police or nitpick others' ideas. Don't insist others conform to your headcanons/popular fanon. Additionally, if an AU, headcanon, etc doesn't interest you, just avoid it rather than putting it down. While people may ask if an idea works in the time period, with canon, etc., avoid shutting it down even if you feel it doesn't.

Use spoiler cuts for commonly triggering content. Put a warning in parenthesis before the cut. For example, an in-depth discussion about how period-typical homophobia may affect the characters should be spoilered: “(homophobia) [[spoilered text]].” To add spoilers on Discord, put a double "|" on either side of the text.

NSFW content is limited to ⁠private-chambers-nsfw Spoiler cuts with a (nsfw) note are required outside the channel, though you may be asked to move to ⁠private-chambers-nsfw for more than a brief mention.

No dragging in outside drama. This includes from other fandoms, other discords, or venting about fans outside the server. We also ask that discourse topics not be brought up in the server.

Please avoid sharing sensitive private information. Examples: specifics about where you live, mental health issues, etc. Please keep in mind that this is a semi-public server that includes strangers.

[annawayne]

hi anna 🪷🤍

do you have any aruani headcanons for jealousy? feeling angsty tonight xd

Hello, Darcy! 🖤

Oh, thank you a lot for asking! I actually have some thoughts on this...

Let's imagine that in this scenario, Armin and Annie didn't get together after Rumbling, immediately swept by the endless responsibilities, just catching longing gazes across the rooms and space, half-smiles, and some quick wave of their hands when they meet during the day. Still, none of them doesn't returns to their boat conversation, afraid to hear something that would break their hearts, that it was just a "moment" and nothing else, and also because they are both pressed with an enormous list of things they have to do - being now responsible for the rebuilding of the world in ruins is something that leaves so little space and time for themselves: while the world was healing, rising from the ashes, their own lives losing colors with every day, tucked between infinite things to do, guilt for the things they did to each other and "much important" than the erratic quiver inside heart muscles when their eyes meet, sending ripples of oxymoron mix of tickling heat and cold goosebumps all across the skin.

Torn apart sometimes for weeks, then months, when Armin usually goes to the negotiations, sometimes with Jean or Pieck, Annie is left behind, feeling with each day that the distance between him and her grows not even in miles, but in something more grave and not tangible, something that thrives within her core with trembling fear of something she isn't sure what for, leaving her hollow and alone, so ironically familiar to that four years in crystal. Every time, during the late hours of the night, when only the cold silver moonlight caresses her body, Annie decides to talk to him once he returns. She'll say everything she was craving to tell him for so long. Still, once Armin is here, every time, suddenly, she sees how he changes and grows, becoming farther and farther away even from that Armin she only met not so long ago and who is still a mystery to her, someone she didn't have a chance to know. He already slips, following the currents of the unstable world, and every time, her throat is crashed with the dark hands, blocking her breath and words from her mouth. His gazes are still on her, but as time passes, Annie doesn't understand if there's the same craving in his eyes as in hers, as only being washed with his eyes always makes her both wanted and lonely.

It continues till one winter day, when Armin, her, and Pieck are called to the office of Müller, who was one of the generals in charge and who offered Armin to make an alliance with one of Marleyans, preferably from one of the powerful families who managed to survive during the Rumbling.

"It would make a great image and example to the world," Müller said that day. "Marleyan and Paradisian, untied by the wedding vows, show that humanity has entered the new age."

The big folder lays in Armin's hands, his eyes wide, and she could hear his breath hitched, pulled through his tight lips, and yet, all Annie could think about was the photos and resumes of women in this folder, as Armin's fingers turn pages. Smiling, beautiful, intelligent, educated, much more cheerful, someone who didn't ruin his homeland and someone who would do a better job in knowing him. Someone braver enough to speak to him. Annie feels like the nauseous waves churn her stomach, and she knows that she doesn't have any right to feel this way - he isn't even hers. He doesn't give her anything except long stares and heartache whenever she sees him in her dreams when he's holding her close, whispering sweet nothing, where his lips on hers, his hands around her, and-

All of it lives only in her head. He never was hers to feel this way. Armin never promised her anything to feel this biting, bitter avalanche of jealousy, clouding her mind with a murky veil of acid thoughts that erode her mind with the sharp realization that she already felt so heartbroken all these years ago, back in Stohess, when his eyes, his beautiful eyes, distorted by fear and despair, looked at her from the bottom of the stairs. She had no right to feel this way, as if all her world shattered to pieces when, in the first place, it was she who destroyed everything for him and who lied to him. He didn't betray her because she was never on his side, but why did it feel so sickening and hurt so badly?

It's all the same now, in the office room of Müller, when the crisp winter sunlight creeps into the stuffed room, where all she can hear is the rustle of pages as Armin's fingers turn the pages of this folder with smiling women with bright eyes and intelligent gazes, with women who have a background behind them, the roots that have a long history, and not like hers - poisoned, abandoned and unwanted from her birth.

Annie doesn't remember how she left the office room. She knows that she has nothing to give him, nothing worth his attention and his love. She knows that it's not fair to feel so heartbroken and the crawling jealousy streaming in her blood, but Annie also doesn't know how to stop the cold tears streaming down her skin set aflame. She doesn't know how to repair something that never was even in her hands, but something that feels as if her imprints are left there after she crushed it. Why is she even surprised?

It has always been this way.

With her heartbeat loud in her ears, Annie doesn't hear the footsteps behind her back - fast, a staccato of the hushed clicks of the feet against the wooden floor, so when someone's arms circle her back, Annie's body reacts just like it used to. Immediate attack, no second of hesitation, but when her elbow is already midair, ready to hit, she turns away and sees him. Armin, in front of her, his eyes, once again, are on her, but she sees how his irises now have another shade in them. Something she wasn't familiar with, but something she suddenly hit with the mixture she almost forgot - ripples of oxymoron mix of tickling heat and cold goosebumps all across the skin.

And, maybe, this time, it would finally push the words they needed to say from their throats.

--

Oh well, here it is! Thank you for reading, and I really enjoyed writing all of it, so thank you so much for asking me!

[starrieangel]

🩷 Curly helps reader regress 🌻

Request by Anon: “How about Curly with a reader who wants to regress but struggles to due to responsibilities and stress, And Curly just, gently coaxing reader into relaxing and taking a break from all of that”

Features: CG! Curly x Little! Reader

Tags: Fluff, Female Reader, Age Regression, omg this is way longer than expected, my Curly bias is showing

Notes: I used Daddy, Papa/Papa Bear, Teddy/Teddy Bear as cg names for Curly (cause he's my f/o and that's what I would call him alskxndkslsnxhkz thanks for requesting this, it’s very self indulgent..!!!)

rbs appreciated !! ☆ ~

Curly begins to notice that you aren't regressing as often as you used to. You've been extra busy with work or school, just general life stuff, and it seems to be taking up a lot of your mental energy

Normally he could get at least a giggle out of you each night, getting you to either regress or just relax into a calmer state by tickling you or playing with your plushies or offering to read you a bedtime story- just anything that he knows you'll enjoy

But lately when you go to bed, you don't seem to smile as much. It's like your responsibilities are weighing you down, sucking all the joy from you :(

Teddy Curly cannot have his little princess be so gloomy..! It kills him to see you so clearly stressed, but he's not really sure what to do at first..

Until one day, you come home from work/school, and Curly insists you let him take care of you.

“I know you haven't been feeling well, Princess, so I was hoping maybe today could be a.. little day? I've seen how stressed you are and, I just really want to help you feel better.”

“I don't know, Curly, I haven't really been in the best mood lately...”

“That's what I'm talking about, just... let me help you, okay? And, if I'm being honest, I really miss my little girl, too.” He says the last part sheepishly, looking down at his shoes as he says it.

You think about it for a minute before reluctantly agreeing. He sighs a breath of relief before his lips crack into a shy smile. 

“See, there's my good girl..” He wraps you in a hug, running his fingers thru your hair. “Now tell Daddy what's wrong. Please, bunny?”

You're already starting to melt a bit, feeling his strong arms around you, and hearing his handsome voice saying your special title for him.

You tell him what's been happening at work/school that has you so upset, he's resting his chin on your head as he adds “uh-huh, I hear you” or “I know, baby, that sounds hard” you can feel tears prick your eyes a bit as you near the end of your story, your speech sounding more and more like your little voice. 

He cups your face in his hands, rubbing his calloused thumb against your cheek. “Thank you for telling me that, baby. It's all going to be okay now, though. Papa's got you.” He wipes away a stray tear from your cheek.

“C-can we start that little day now?” You say, the weight of grown up life was beginning to be too much.

He chuckles a bit, thinking of how cute you are looking up at him with big wet eyes. “Of course, baby.” And without warning he picks you up so that you're resting on his hip, arms around his neck. You start to feel even more little- He’s so strong that he can easily pick you up like you're a baby /)(\

“How does a nice warm bath sound, darling?” He says in his soft voice. He presses a kiss to your cheek, really rubbing it in so that his facial hair scratches against you. You giggle from his stubble tickling your cheek- he always knows how to make you smile ♡

You nod your head, and he goes to draw you a bath ~

I think I will do a part two for this since it's kinda long!! Part 2 will have Curly giving regressed reader a bubble bath and putting them to bed 😊 Thank you for reading! and leaving requests :) sorry if I don't get to all of them, I try to only write for fun and not force anything, but I love hearing other's ideas! 

Please leave a comment letting me know what you think! I love talking to other people abt fanfic aaaa ♡ Thanks again! 

🩷🌻🧸

Guys why is this so long. Why am I so cuckoo for coco puffs over a character from a horror game. This is deranged

[profoundbondfanfic]

More Holiday fic recs!

-Part 3 of 5-

Angel Cookies by noxsoulmate (Explicit, 245k words)

“On Christmas Eve, if you eat Angel Cookies right before bed and then dream of your one true love, he will be your destiny.” The Shurley clan sure believe their old family legend, but not Castiel James – not since he was a pudgy teenager, running down the church aisle on Christmas Day, trying to stop his very handsome and very straight teacher Dean Winchester from marrying someone else. He may be grown-up, well-toned, bestselling Young Adult’s book author “C. S. James” now, but Castiel will never forget that day. And he’ll never fall foolishly in love again, especially not for Dean Winchester. But when the wish for a big family Christmas from his sick father brings him back home, Castiel has to confront his past. And not only that: a letter from a little fan from his home town is weighing heavy on his conscience. Reaching out to a troubled kid might endanger his secret identity. Adding to the problem is the shock of discovering that Dean is the little girl’s father – unattached and hotter than ever. Dean’s smile still makes Castiel melt, but Castiel knows that ship has sailed. The fact that Dean seems to be on board this time, however, doesn’t make it any easier for him.

I Won't Even Wish for Snow by Annie D (scaramouche) (Teen and Up, 6k words)

It’s the third year that Castiel’s spending Christmas with his best friend’s family, and he expects it to be much like the previous two. Then mistletoe happens.

Nine Times We Met (And One Christmas We Parted) by almaasi (Explicit, 58k words)

On the last day of school before Christmas vacation, Mr. Castiel Quinn discovers that one of his young students has smuggled male pornography into the classroom. Upon being told that the photos belong to the boy's uncle, Castiel vows to himself that he will keep the other man's preferences a secret. It's 1947; a man experiencing attraction to another man or fantasising about his sexual touch are transgressive faults, which could potentially result in imprisonment - or worse. But then the uncle walks in. The photos are of him: Dean Winchester, a rogue with an empty pocket and a child to feed. Castiel doesn't know it yet, but his life is never going to be the same again. Years pass between chance meetings, but even though they live their lives apart, Dean and Castiel's story is proof that absence truly does make the heart grow fonder.

One for Each Night by VioletHaze (Explicit, 3k words)

A chance look at a Chanukah display in a shop window takes Dean back a quarter of a century to a childhood memory he thought he’d forgotten. Cas can’t change what happened then, but he finds a way to make sure Dean has a new, happier association with the holiday. Dean knows just how to thank him.

Serendipity by whelvenwings (General audiences, 23k words)

Stuck on opposite sides of the country, Dean and Cas make big sacrifices to be together at a special time of the year. However, when they realise that their joint idea of paying a surprise visit to each other's faraway home has left them still trapped miles away from each other, they have to find some way to meet in the middle - and it has to be before midnight if it's going to be perfect…

T'was the Night Before Christmas by Jacqueline Albright-Beckett (xaandria) (Teen and Up, 1k words)

Surgical tech Dean and vascular surgeon Cas share their first Christmas -- but they've only been together a handful of days.

The Secret Santa of Cubicle Land by followyourenergy (General audiences, 4k words)

Castiel Novak has never loved the workplace Secret Santa tradition, but he loves watching his coworker (and his very straight, secret crush) Dean Winchester’s enthusiastic responses to his daily gifts. Dean is so enthusiastic that he declares he’s going to ask his Secret Santa on a date. They’re both in for a surprise.

where you lead, I will follow by teacass (Fushigi) (General audiences, 6k words)

“Cas,” Dean says. “Light of my life. The sole provider of my happiness. The reason I get up in the morning. The bestest friend I have ever had. Please, give me coffee.” -- Or five Christmas Eves Dean had coffee at Cas' cafe, and one Christmas night he didn't. A small Gilmore Girls AU with coffee, Christmas trees, and first kisses.

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

What a Lovely Way to Burn~

La Squadra x femme fatale!reader

MDNI

Content: Poly, Mother used as a nickname for reader, slight mommy kink for Melone, suggestive, casual relationships, implied sexual content, canon-typical violence

Intro

Part 1:

-relationships with each member-

“When you put your arms around me

I get a Fever that’s so hard to bear”

They’re your only companions at this point. The only human connection you get is through them, hence why you’re pretty physically affectionate with them. The only hands ever allowed to touch you are the ones that belong to your assassin co-workers.

-Formaggio calls you “Lil Mama”, a nod to his stand ability and your nickname as a founding member of the team. And he thinks he’s funny. “I said I’d take care of it, so relaaaax lil Mama~”

So cheeky…he purposely uses it when you’re in a bad mood too, just to irritate you further. He does actually respect you, but he’s always got a laid back and comfortable demeanor around you. You guys aren’t in any sort of official romantic relationship, but also a bit too cozy to be friends. You’re comfortable with him touching you, his lap is the perfect size for you and you’re happy to joke around with him since there is a level of trust between you. Sometimes when you get cold, instead of asking for a jacket you’ll let Formaggio very gently prick you with his stand and slip you into his shirt pocket instead. You both think it’s funny.

Sometimes you’ll stay at his place, or him at yours. He’s the guy you most frequently borrow clothes from, since he has the most normal wardrobe out of the group, and you like how large and casual most of his shirts are.

He’s one of the guys you’re happier to go out with, since beyond his sadism in his private life, he’s social and easy to get along with, and doesn’t usually cause trouble in public like some of the other boys might.

-Illuso uses “Mom”, and occasionally “Big mama” when he wants to be playful with you. He just rubs you the wrong way, he feels even cockier than the others, and no matter how often you humble or correct him he never learns and always keeps that smug smirk on his face. How often do you have to threaten to light his nice hair on fire before he learns to LISTEN?!

You know he wants your attention. Of course you’re part of the same team so you’d never go so far as to actually wish for any permanent harm to befall him (unless he was really, REALLY asking for it), but he’s at the bottom of the list of favorite co-workers. He’s the only member of the team strictly not permitted to touch you. You do not find him pleasant or enjoyable company at all, and Risotto knows to not send the two of you on missions alone, lest you finally snap and stick your flamethrower down Illuso’s throat. Though sometimes it’s a bit of a fun game to deny him the pleasure of a reaction. His turn to get annoyed when you just dismiss him instead of getting angry.

You’re beginning to realize he likes any type of attention, no matter if it’s positive or negative.

-Prosciutto: Considering how he often he uses “mammoni” as an insult, it’s not surprising he doesn’t use a variation of “Mother” as a nickname for you. He’d look like a Hypocrite and he would NEVER hear the end of it. He has a reputation as one of the meaner members of the team, so when he does decide to use it, it’ll be with a negative connotation. He tries to rein it in around you, but you’re not immune to his snarky comments and general rudeness. He likes when you’re tougher on some of the more unruly members of the team, like Melone and Ghiaccio…but he wishes you’d keep them all on a tighter leash. He considers himself responsible for teaching Pesci, so you need to stay on top of all the more experienced members. You’re too nice to the ones that don’t directly annoy you, even when they make fools of themselves. You in turn don’t know where he gets off telling you how to lead as second-in-command.

The two of you have a sort of rivalry. It might even be subconscious, but you think he believes deep down that HE should be the second-in-command, and not you. You do enjoy a good debate with him, he’s cute when he’s all pissed off at you, trying to correct your leadership style or whatever you’ve done that upset him this time. Often these arguments end in angry make out sessions, his grumbling still audible even while he’s definitely enjoying your lips passionately pressed against his.

He shuts up for a minute afterwards, suddenly at a loss for words…but he’ll inevitably complain about the lipstick stains you left all over him.

There always seems to be Some Sort of tension between the two of you.

He’s too rough, you don’t love when he touches you since he holds you too tight or comes off way too aggressive when he tries to invite you on a date.

You will be physically affectionate with him, but only when you’re either upset with your more preferred partners, or they’re not there at the moment.

He’s frustrating to deal with, so you’d never tell him how comfortable he is to snuggle with. He’s a bit tense, but his chest is almost always exposed, and super fun to rest your head against.

-Pesci: Of course you’re nicer to Pesci, he’s got a much more tolerable personality than the rest of La Squadra. Calls you “Mama L/n” like it’s actually a title, with time you’re able to convince him he has permission to use your first name instead. As much as you don’t love Prosciutto’s “tough love”, you know he has a point about how Pesci needs to toughen up to keep up with the rest of La Squadra.

But, well…a part of you likes that he’s the only one who doesn’t just kill without hesitation when someone superior snapped their fingers.

Though he’s a little Too timid most of the time for you to have fun with him. But you know he can get serious when a scenario calls for it.

Pesci has a lot of respect for you, as you’re a senior member of the team, and your tough but fair personality when you dealt with him.

Of course the others notice you’re kinder to Pesci than them, but they’d really be stupid if they didn’t see you just found his personality easier to get along with.

You often went on missions with Prosciutto and Pesci, not with the intent to protect the younger brother from his much too harsh older brother; you know Pesci is much tougher than even he knows. You actually go along to supervise the elder brother and that indiscriminately destructive stand.

Pesci is free to touch you, but he pretty much never initiates. It doesn’t help that someone seems to have told him you’re only being nice to him as a joke. What an asshole…you’re guessing it’s Illuso or Melone being jealous but it would be much more productive to just try and communicate with Pesci than beating up whoever’s trying to start some drama.

-Melone: GOD Melone gets on your nerves, of course he’s weird about you. It doesn’t matter how often you kick his ass or scream at him either because he LIKES it.

You still remember the first time he begged you to let him use his stand on you, he said something weird about how your “delectable, ideal assets” made you a suitable Mother for Babyface-

But he said it in front of the rest of La Squadra and [Everyone Disliked That] and you thought for sure after that verbal (and maybe physical if you’re Prosciutto and Ghiaccio) berating from literally all of his teammates he’d smarten up and control himself around you but…

You’re the ONLY woman he gets to be around frequently, AND you don’t run away from him either, so how is he supposed to be normal around you?! And you know he means it in a kinky way when he calls you “Mommy”…but you’ve learned how to use his pathetic behavior to your advantage.

You make great use of him, he completely bends to your will like a desperate simp. Often times he’s the one kneeling in front of you eagerly sliding your heels on your feet or painting your nails and even massaging your shoulders after a long, irritating day. He’ll do whatever you ask, because it means he might get to touch your skin and smell your hair and be close to you. You feel a twinge of disgust at the way he practically drools over you, and his comments about how wonderful your body is while he licks his lips often invite smacks or kicks from you, which only makes him more excited and insistent that you would be a PERFECT mother for a murder machine.

You can handle him though. As irritating and invading as he is, he has never crossed a line where you actually felt the urge to set him on fire. He has this weird fixation on your legs, so only when you’re in an especially good mood or don’t feel like fighting with him you’ll slide your legs over his lap when you’re sitting next to each other on the couch. You let him poke and prod and salivate over you as he pleases until he pisses you off or gets too excited.

-Ghiaccio: You understand him on a deeper level than most of his other teammates try. He’s angry because it’s the only emotion that gets results in his eyes. You get it. Sometimes the only things people pay attention to are yelling and violence.

You won’t catch him calling you any of those “Mother” nicknames, he finds it asinine and disrespectful. (“IF YOU’RE GOING TO REFER TO HER BY A NICKNAME BASED ON HER POSITION AS A SENIOR MEMBER OF THE TEAM AND THE SECOND-IN-COMMAND WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU USE “MOTHER”?! SHE’S AN ASSASSIN NOT A HOUSEWIFE! IF YOU REALLY HAD TO USE A NICKNAME FOR HER USE SOMETHING THAT MAKES SENSE CONTEXTUALLY! I MEAN HOW HARD IS IT TO CALL HER “MA’AM” OR “SIGNORA”?!?”-Ghiaccio.) Everyone kinda tones him out when he starts yelling about it, and you can try talking to him about how you don’t mind the nickname at all and EVENTUALLY the rants will go down in frequency but he will probably always tense with irritation whenever someone calls you “Mother” in any way.

Your stands are opposites of each other. His is a shield of ice. Yours is a weapon of fire. At first there was a lot of doubt over your compatibility on missions, but the two of you are a deadly duo. There’s something truly elegant about how you splay out along the back of his car, scorching to a crisp anyone bold enough to chase the two of you after an assassination.

You get along with him well. He rants, you listen. Your soft voice gently chiding him for overreacting actually calmed him down, much to everyone’s surprise. And if you have a problem, he’ll fix it for you, one way or another. There’s no hiding that he has anger issues, but he makes an active effort to keep himself more under control when you’re around.

You try to be physically affectionate with him, but it’s kinda awkward given how little relationship experience he has, and his general insecurity he feels around you.

He runs cold, he’s lean and sharp, and he cannot sit still for the life of him; whether he’s bouncing his leg or drumming his fingers against something or simply can’t find a comfortable way to sit. As soon as you try to lean up against his side you’re usually met with squirming and trembling, and he is SO tense. When he does try to hold you back, he squeezes too tight and for only very short amounts of time before he huffs and gives up and distances himself from you.

You assume he just really dislikes the physical affection, so you try to back off, since you value your relationship with him.

And that just makes him freak out. You’re not making efforts to snuggle or get close anymore…he worries he’s ruined a good thing, and he has no idea what to do about it.

He would rather die than try to verbally express how he feels to you, even though the embarrassment he’d feel if he found out he was completely misreading your relationship this entire time would kill him anyways.

So for the first time since you know him he tries to initiate some physical affection to try and rekindle whatever you had before. It’s awkward, he looks the complete opposite way from you the whole time because eye contact makes him uncomfortable as he slides his hand along the couch towards yours, clumsily tangling his slim, cold fingers around your much warmer ones. This was a good compromise. Hand holding worked out perfectly for you two, even though he found it So embarrassing to do in front of the others. They won’t tease too much though. Since he can kick most of their asses very easily.

-Risotto Nero: If you were the “Mother” of La Squadra, he was the “Father”. The two of you have known each other the longest; none of the others saw the progression of your relationship since it was from before they joined the team. If there was anyone who would really be referred to by the title of “boyfriend” it would be Nero despite nothing ever being said officially.

The closest thing to your actual lover, you and Risotto share an intimacy that almost came off as a couple that have been married for years: not particularly passionate or romantic, but you have a deep understanding of each other. Similarly to how you can calm down the other members of the team, he is the one who can calm you down. He’s not a fan of PDA (I mean. Just look at him-) but you’re an exception, so as long as you don’t get carried away and try distracting him with kisses in front of the others, you’re free to wrap your arms around his neck or sit on his lap whenever you want (within reason). Don’t expect him to always feel like touching you back though.

You don’t think anything of it anymore since you’re so used to it, but you are kinda a wife to him when you compare how your relationship looks with him than your other on again, off again “boyfriends” of La Squadra.

You’ve spent quite a few nights in his bed, his apartment is always open to you so you’re welcome to come and go as you please. If he comes home and you’re randomly in his bed he won’t be bothered at all, and just scoot you over a bit after he slides off his jacket.

He’s the only member of the team you usually sleep with as of right now. Sure you might kiss and snuggle a few of the others, and maybe you’ve shared some intimacy every once in a while with them, but what you have with Risotto is the most serious. He’ll indulge you occasionally, but honestly you’re just happy to have a companion at night, a familiar figure beside you in the darkness of the bedroom.

The other members have to wonder what it is about Risotto that does it for you. He’s so. Stoic. Maybe you like that lack of emotional intelligence? The truth is you always feel like you have to present yourself in a certain way in front of the others and in public, but Risotto? You can be more vulnerable with him. He never overreacts or judges. He’s a good listener, honestly. And he trusts you with serious tasks and classified information more than anyone else. You don’t let him down, so he’ll support you in turn. You both appreciate the equal costs and benefits nature of your relationship.

[walkawaytall]

Okay, I’m about to be real blunt: They literally are not carbon copies of one another, and it is so odd to me that this is commonly held fanon???

You know how I know they aren’t carbon copies of one another? Because Leia lost way more than Anakin did but doesn’t appear to have even been tempted by the Dark Side. She never knew her birth parents (which, okay, this appears to not have affected her much, at least consciously, but it’s still a really early, major loss); she didn’t even know she had a brother until they were adults, so I imagine there is a certain level of grief surrounding what their relationship could have been had they known each other their entire lives; she lost her entire planet — which includes the family that raised her, by the way, as well as every friend, pet, home, store, tree, and mountain she ever loved, not to mention all the people who she grew up knowing she would be responsible for one day; she had the man she loved ripped away from her and sold off to the space mob to be murdered for like a year; and she watched her newly revealed brother/close friend walk to what she clearly believes is going to be his death at the hands of Vader, who tortured both her and the man she’s in love with and cut off her brother’s hand. And that’s not even getting into all the misery that was heaped on her in the sequel trilogy or any non-movie material.

All of that happened to her, and she proceeds with hope and action. She doesn’t go searching for ways to make sure she’s never hurt again or go to extremes in order to keep those she cares about within her grasp. I’m sure one could argue that Leia has no way of seeking out the Dark Side for help because she doesn’t know she’s Force-sensitive. But she has ample opportunity to do what normal, everyday humans do when they’re afraid of feeling the pain of loss, which is isolate themselves or try to control the movements of those they’re afraid to lose, and she doesn’t.

Like, there are three years between A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back, and everything about the way she interacts with Luke and Han in ESB implies that she has maintained some level of affection and friendship with both of them that is different from her professional relationships. A deleted scene has her responding to the news that Luke is going to be leaving as well as Han by bemoaning the fact that she needs to learn to only rely on herself — meaning that is not something she’s currently doing.

And, while she is clearly affected by the threat of Han and Luke taking off, she also doesn’t appear willing to do anything extraordinary to stop them. She tries to talk Han out leaving, which is a pretty normal response for the insane situation they’re in, and she begs Luke in Return of the Jedi to not face Vader, but she doesn’t go to extreme lengths to keep either of them around even though their leaving clearly hurts her.

It seems like people see that Leia can react intensely/angrily, and because Padme doesn’t do really that, they default to her being just like Anakin. This is bonkers for a couple of reasons:

People are not required to be exactly like one of their bio parents. Like, I know George Lucas is a fan of mirroring certain characters, situations, etc., but there is not really any evidence that I’ve seen that the intent with Leia was to be analogous to Anakin (plus, he already did that with Luke! Or does Luke’s outburst during his face-off with Vader and Palpatine followed by his recognition of their similarities upon seeing Vader’s mechanical hand followed by “I am a Jedi, like my father before me” mean nothing to people???).

If you actually examine the situations in which Leia reacts with anger, they are pretty specific to life-threatening situations in which everyone is yelling at everyone, or a couple of times when Han is actively trying to antagonize her (which I feel says more about their ability to get under one another’s skin than it does Leia’s general state of being). Luke and Han are just as quippy and sarcastic and eye-rolly and impatient as Leia is a lot of the time, but her anger is often focused on, and I honestly think it’s because her character is being contrasted with an expected princess archetype. And that’s fine; Leia is a fun subversion of a well-worn character type. But Leia also chills out a lot when she’s feeling more secure/less threatened, and I would argue that’s probably closer to her “normal” than how she acts when she’s just spent a few days being tortured for information followed by being forced to watch the destruction of everything she loves. (She remains very capable, proactive, impulsive, and clever even when she’s less of a ball of anger, too, so it’s not like the tempering of that anger results in her being any less Leia-like on the whole.)

I just don’t see how Leia is considered “exactly like Anakin” when she generally makes good, non-possessive decisions while maintaining hope in the face of great tragedy, while Anakin has a history of doing the opposite.

In summary: a woman being a little shouty and sarcastic ≠ a man murdering innocent civilians and turning almost completely evil.

mourning leia and anakins potential father-daughter relationship because of how vader destroyed her is another level of tragedy

they will never know they are a carbon copy of the other

she will always (rightfully) hate him

[crownedwithstars]

The idea that only Ulmo or Nienna care about Middle-earth and do anything to help Eruhini is a strange misconception because Tolkien pretty clearly shows that at least Manwë is watching very closely what's going on and sometimes even interferes? It's just that the Valar mostly seem to work through the elements they represent, which if you think about it is pretty neat.

Like there are various instances where the wind acts up suddenly, causing storms or rising in just the right moment (as in ROTK, clearing the air for the Rohirrim and speeding Aragorn's journey as he sails for Minas Tirith)

And even more obviously, the Eagles. Tolkien specifically says that the Eagles are Manwë's advocates in Middle-earth, providing miraculous aid when all else fails. Without the Eagles, Beren and Lúthien's quest would have failed and Huor would not have got to Gondolin (which then would have prevented Eärendil's success or even meant he was never born). They give crucial aid to Gandalf more than once. The Eagles also help Fingon to save Maedhros, because Manwë "would not wholly abandon the Noldor". Tolkien recognises that the Eagles are "deus ex machina", and in this case, the meaning is quite literal.

Then there are the Istari, envoys of the Valar: while there is proof of only Gandalf's success, even just the efforts of one of the Wizards was enough to bring down Sauron.

As for Ulmo, you could argue that he is responsible for the whole Eärendil and Elwing arc - and that it was a job between him and Manwë. It's Manwë's Eagles that bring Huor to Gondolin, and Ulmo later sends Huor's son Tuor into the hidden city. Tuor and Eärendil both get sea-longing in their hearts. During the flight of the survivors of Gondolin, Eagles are again present and bring up the body of Glorfindel, making you wonder whether they would have interfered more in the Balrog fight if Glorfindel had not stepped up to protect the refugees - and Eärendil, the fated saviour of Middle-earth. Also, Ulmo rescues Elwing when she casts herself into the sea, turning her into a bird so that she can fly to find Eärendil. Water and air and birds keep showing up in the stories of Eärendil and Elwing and if that's not proof of Manwë and Ulmo's plotting, I don't know what is. I mean, it's even said in the first pages of the Silmarillion that they are fast friends and closely allied from the beginning! Eärendil becoming a star also in a weird way even combines the elements of Ulmo, Manwë, and Varda: bearing the Silmaril, Eärendil sails an immortal ship in the sea of heaven and stars, forever as a sign of hope to the Children of Ilúvatar.

What about the other Valar? If we keep in mind that they chiefly work through the elements they represent, their abilities to interfere are limited (and this is a self-imposed limitation clearly). Yavanna's creation of the Ents proves to be a pretty great one in The Two Towers, although you can argue to what degree she is influencing the events. More obviously In Shelob's lair, Sam calls for Varda, and the light of the phial of Galadriel comes alive in his hand and smites the great spider, helping Sam to defeat the monster. Also, during Sam and Frodo's desperate march through the hellscape that is Mordor, Sam yearns for a little bit of light and water to hearten him - and lo and behold, he gets these exact things as if Varda and Ulmo personally delivered.

In other words, the Valar are a lot more active in Middle-earth than they get credit for, and they work in subtle and indirect ways because only then can they make sure they don't accidentally kill a lot of the Children.