#i’m pretty sure the last time i spent an extended amount of time on here was like the start of the month

[hightowres]

boop! ☺️

boop! <3333 hope you’re having the loveliest day this is so cute and you’re amazing ily

[iznsfw]

Here, Kitty, Kitty!

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 2 - Miyawaki Sakura

LE SSERAFIM's Miyawaki Sakura x Male Reader Smut

6,381 words

Categories | catgirl!Sakura, petplay, KITTY CORNER

Queued this on the wrong time, sorry for the late post

The smell of freshly sautéed food fills your nostrils. The seasoning prickles the air and your stomach rumbles even before you rise. You’d drool over the food if you didn’t open your eyes and find someone else more worthy of your adoration.

Do you need to say more? No, but you’ll go on anyway when it’s about Sakura.

Her back is turned yet your focus remains attached to her. Long brown hair sways with her movements from the restraints of a band. You wonder if she knows how many times you’ve threaded your fingers through her locks as she sleeps, or notice how your hand always goes to her hair whenever she needs comforting. Your attention’s brought to her white skin exposed by the short sleeves of her short shirt. Each lot it takes—her pretty arms, bare neck, or tiny waist—is perfect. There’s beauty even without catching sight of her face.

Of course, there’s also beauty when you see it.

Sakura turns her head. She smiles, her fine cheekbones highlighted. And it’s like falling in love with her all over again. “I knew that would wake you up.”

The food’s just the alarm clock. Sakura’s the sunshine that blinds you.

You lean forward with a playful lilt in your voice. “Are you implying that I’m greedy?”

She draws the big wooden spoon to her mouth and licks a peppered green off it. “I’m implying that I’m a great chef,” she says. She turns the stove off satisfiedly. 

Your legs feel shaky from the long commute, in which you spent a painful amount of time rushing and reaping, but they still choose the way to your girlfriend. When you wrap your arms around her, she jerks in surprise. She settles into them anyway; you’re a familiar comfort. You like how small she looks in your embrace, how you’re always entertained by the idea that you could easily pick her up and give her the biggest hug ever. 

(And other things.)

You kiss the side of her head. “Thanks for the dinner, pet.”

Sakura looks up at you with those spell-binding large eyes, reminding you again of why you chose that nickname. Pet name is a more accurate term.. She’s the tiniest thing ever that you’re pretty sure you could pick her up with just one hand, like she’s a kitten. Her small whines whenever she’s frustrated during a game or tired from work don’t help diminish the urge to call her your pet.

“It’s nothing,” she giggles. “I want you to eat well.”

“I eat enough already. Watch.” 

Seal your lips around her earlobe jokingly. Sakura shrieks. Your laughs vibrate on her skin as the feeling tickles her. Once you release her, she begins to hit you painlessly with the utensil. 

“Perv!” 

“Whoa, that wasn’t even foreplay or anything.”

Sakura’s smile reaches her ears. “Jerk,” she says. “How do I even deal with a horndog like you?”

Okay, now that’s not fair. You’re not even horny twenty-four seven. You just tend to let the memories of Sakura in a summer top and skimpy shorts linger. So her bold accusations are totally false. Nope. You’re not letting them tarnish your image. 

“You’re the one thinking dirty about it, pet,” you say, snatching the spoon from her and lifting it high. 

Her attempt to steal it draws laughs from you. She’s too small to achieve the spoon. She extends her arm up yet ends up empty-handed. Sakura huffs and crosses her arms, finally giving up.

“I know.”

Now you’re the one smiling. It surprises you how quickly she said it, almost like she’s trying to lead things somewhere. The tilt of your mouth reaches places when your cute girlfriend blushes.

“Oh?” 

“Y-you know what I meant.” 

“I actually do not.”

“Well, I won’t tell you anyway. I like it when you do the talking.”

Sakura always prioritizes you, and it often makes you feel guilty. She’s never put herself first. It’s always her taking the last turn, having the smallest half of the cake, giving what she has though it’s only enough for her. Sometimes you want to give back to her, too, and not just in the act of being her boyfriend.

“And I like it when you let me take care of you.” Open your mouth anyway when she raises the spoon to your lips. As always, her cooking is everything. 

You’d say thank you verbally, but you think you prefer grabbing her small waist and lifting her on the countertop. You prefer that squeal, too. Sakura has a funny smirk on her face. You sweep back her disheveled hair and kiss that smile you love so much.

“So let me do the listening this time. What’s going on in that pretty little head, pet?”

“Just… you.” Her legs surround your hips. “I can’t think, I can’t work. All I think about is how you’re doing.”

Sakura massages the sides of your head. You swear you can feel her love trickle from her long, thin fingers and into your mind. She’s so learned in the ways of love that you get a free lesson from her everyday. You’re still studying, but you think you’ve got the hang of it.

“I can handle myself, Sakura,” you tell her. “You’re always taking care of me, so now, I gotta be the one doing it with you.”

“There’s one way for you to take care of me…”

Sakura’s hand grasps yours, and soon she’s leading it between her legs. In turn, it leads you to notice how tiny her shorts are. The hem’s literally hugging below the centers of her cheeks, giving attention to its supple shape. It leaves no room for the imagination. Neither does her crop top. Why is she wearing such a tight shirt in the house anyway? It’s just the two of you.

Then you see the lust in her face, and the dots all connect. 

“Naughty pet.” Squeeze the cheek of her ass to feel her body tense. “What exactly are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking,” says Sakura, as she lifts her legs so you could pull her shorts off, “that you ruin me with those fingers.”

Familiar scent and a familiar sight: her drenched cunt. But you never get tired of seeing her naked or running your digits along her pink slit.

Sakura’s voice whittles into a soft breath, the kind you only hear when she sings quietly. That must be why her moans are like music to you.

Her wetness is unbelievable. In little time, your fingers are already soaked, and you haven’t even put them inside her yet. There’s no need to rush anyway. You’ll take your time playing with her.

Miyawaki Sakura is named after cherry blossoms. It only makes sense that her blush is as pink as the seasonal flowers. Her core drips as if it holds excessive dew drops. Something about the color, too. Something about her center having the same blooming beauty her face has. You stroke this southern flower. Sakura grips your forearm tightly.

Immediately, your fingertips are dripping with her juices. Each flick of your hand, like that of a magician, makes her legs shudder. That’s only one more reason to do it. Play with her clit so she responds with an expected gasp. 

“Mmh, please.” 

“Yeah?”

“M-make me cum…” Sakura’s practically salivating. The drool from her mouth is a parallel to the juices trickling from her cunt. “I need it.”

You kiss her. “I know you do.”

Your touch pierces her core. Sakura’s gasp extends, and her large cat eyes grow rounder. Your fingers move as if to beckon—as if to beckon the strongest climax from her. Of course, you can’t keep doing the same thing if you want that. Recognize this, spread her thigh apart from your forearm and pin it to the counter so you could ram your fingers in her harsher. You make sure to touch her sensitive parts in order to keep those beautiful moans floating to your ears.

You had your suspicions, but it seems now that Sakura was not wearing a bra beneath that tight excuse of a crop top. Her nipples make a print upon the fabric. It’s an invitation, really. Softness fills your palms as you squeeze and squeeze and squeeze, keeping your girlfriend on the road to her orgasm.

“Feels so good!” she says—(no, screams.) Her feet kick and the entirety of her small body tenses up. “Feels so… oh god, don’t stop!”

Your thumb toys with her nipple as your lips latch on her neck. You wouldn’t think of it. You’re here to give Sakura what she needs and wants. In fact, you’re borderline spoiling her—you don’t actually have to thrust that hard or kiss her this passionately. But when it comes to giving back to her, you admit you go a little overboard.

It’s not like anyone else wouldn’t have done the same thing when Sakura’s so vocal about everything. Her cute voice becomes even cuter as it twists with every plunge and squeeze of your hand. She stutters over her words, a habit that becomes more adorable despite the circumstances, and looks at you with this unhinged wildness you only ever see when you’re taking her. If she’s your pet, she’d be a feral cat in heat, always in need for blissful salvation.

Well, you’ll grant it to her.

In the privacy of your own home, this is what you could do to Sakura: leave hickeys all over her skin, finger her with the strings of wetness connecting and disconnecting from your digits, have her for your own. You grow harsher by the minute, and she loves every second of it.

“Please. More, please, I want—” 

“What do you want, Sakura?” 

She needs to speak yet your swift strokes prevent her from saying a comprehensible syllable. Sakura’s hold on your arm—on you—truly is fascinating. She can control you while staying on the receiving side with her pouty slim lips and trembling body. She can make you do anything for her without having to convince you. Her hand over the center of your pants just adds to the heat.

She palms your stiff erection while you thrust your fingers inside her little pussy relentlessly. It’s all so much for a tiny girl to give and take, so it shouldn’t be a surprise when she says it—

“Need you to fuck your kitten’s pussy, make me squirt, I want it so bad!”

—but it is.

You’re well aware of why your fingerfucking grows borderline cruel, why Sakura is screaming the way she is. You’re lost in the moment. The heat in your pants is becoming unbearable. Your fingers are ruining her. 

And you can feel sharp teeth sinking into your neck. The pain is pleasure, and you’re struggling to think of what her bite reminds you of: fangs? Needles? Pins?

A kitten?

Sakura wets the counter and your sleeves. She whimpers against your skin, but you keep on going. You know it’s what she wants. In the corner of your eye, you can see her ears turn red. The volume of her moans next to your ear reaches heights.

“N-no… ah, stop.”

Stop?

Stop.

“Sakura?” you ask warily, afraid you did something wrong. Were things going too far? Are you hurting her? Maybe you already did.

Relief courses through your chest when she kisses you. “I’m alright,” she says sweetly. “It’s just… hmm—”

She never gets to continue what she’s saying until later on. She finds your concerned face too adorable. You’re pretty sure she saw the vulnerability in it. There’s something raw about someone seeing beauty in you the way you see in her. 

Sakura kisses you, hands containing your face. You smile into the heated session. When you drag your fingers slowly out of her cunt, she moans again, rekindling your carnal wants. 

She pulls away. “I like how your fingers are totally soaked,” she says lightly, “and it’s all me.”

She opens her mouth meekly, and you already know what to do.

Earlier, her pussy wrapped your fingers. Now, her lips do, stroking your digits of the liquid that pours down them. It’s like she’s having a second dinner with the way she’s devouring her own juices. You aren’t taking a bite of anything, but watching Sakura do what she does best is a whole meal already.

“God, Sakura, you’re so fucking sexy.”

She giggles. “Thank you. I try to be for you.”

The twirl of your wrist guides her tongue in cleaning your hand up. She truly is a kitten. Her tiny tongue licks you up, and her distinct moans almost sound like meows.

So it’s only right that you pet her. Ruffle her hair and lead it back into place. “You’re always hot, pet.” 

Think back to the moments she sits in her room gaming, with nothing but your shirt and panties on. Of course she always is. It’s second nature to her.

“I’d tell you to continue,” says Sakura slyly, kissing your fingertips, “but that would ruin the bigger surprise, won’t it?”

“What surprise?”

She hops off the counter and pushes you to the island. Since when did her workouts involve that? But she’s Sakura—your girlfriend whose face shows the mischief of a pet who’s too aware of what she’s doing. That’s why you’re breathless.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Well, fuck.

Sakura hooks her finger underneath the button of your shirt. Just a skim of her touch makes you shake. You’re wondering what’s happening—more importantly, what will be happening. But the answer’s clear. She knows your secrets, and now, she’s about to show you something she’s been hiding herself. 

She starts leading you to the bedroom. If looks could kill, you’d be dead by now, on the floor, drool rolling down from the corner of your mouth. And it would be all because of your girlfriend’s sultry expression that’s locked and loaded on you, ready to maim.

Her back rests on your bedroom door. You’re so close to each other that not one breath goes unheld by your skin. She’s truly evil for this. She knows you’re down bad for her, down at rock bottom. And she still chooses to work you up like this: pressing herself against the wooden door, with nothing but that short crop top on and a smile that’s too alluring.

You laugh. Grasp her waist. You can span its width using a single hand. “What’s this, pet?” you say. She’s getting you all hot and bothered.

“Just come inside and close your eyes.” 

Sakura winks. That’s how you know it’s as serious as it gets; Miyawaki Sakura doesn’t know how to wink. If it’s worth her practice and time, you’re in for the real thing.

You shut your eyes as she asked, and let her lead you to the bed. Your excitement chains your throat that you can’t even ask her if she’s done. Rely on your sense of hearing to figure out what’s going on. 

It feels like hours waiting for her surprise. The bed is soft beneath you, but you’d rather have Sakura’s tight body under you instead. Your pants are tight already. Reminding yourself that she’d be ready in a few does nothing to satiate your restlessness.

“Sakura,” you say with a kidding husk that intimidates her nevertheless, “don’t keep me waiting.”

“I-I’m not!”

The thumps and gasps of struggle become less frequent. Your hands frisk impatiently at your sides. What exactly is she planning?

“Open your eyes now!” 

Finally.

Once you see her, you’re met with the thought that confirms you that, like Sakura said, you’ll come inside, just in another way.

Your nickname for Sakura is sweet, but you can’t deny the lewdness it takes now that it represents itself in front of you. 

Her white crop top was replaced with a sleeveless brown one. It ought to be impossible for a crop top to be any more revealing, but that’s proved wrong when this one barely hides the underside of her chest, even giving the top of it a wide peek. Worst of all (but you can’t deny that it’s the best thing you’ve ever seen): there’s a cartoon cat-shaped hole in the middle of it that exposes even more skin. It’s more of a bra rather than a shirt at this rate. But you’d argue that actual bras aren’t this provocative. And you’d argue that you don’t mind—not even a little bit, not even at all.

All of her is on display: her midriff, her arms and pits, her legs, everything. Then you have her skirt that’s the definition of short. It’s a pathetic attempt at modesty and a great exercise of lewdness. Its length allows you a view of her inviting pussy.

It isn’t a secret that you love her hair, and now you’re in a position in which your adoration for it grows. You’re blameless, especially when it’s banded into two twintails joined behind a headband of black cat ears.

But the highlight of it all is that black collar rounding her neck. It awaits a connected leash, a driven purpose.

Tonight, Miyawaki Sakura isn’t just your girlfriend. She’s your pet—your gorgeous, little kitten in heat.

You knew it. Sakura’s been scheming and planning this, and now the surprise is all ready. She’s all ready for your using and taking.

“What a naughty girl you are, Sakura,” you murmur, getting up. 

She cowers. “Just wanted to give you a reward for working hard.” Her paws float to her cheeks. “And… I really want to be your pet. Your pretty little pet.”

“You knew what I wanted all along, huh?”

Sakura hums helplessly while she peeks from the spaces between her fingers. Her palms do a poor job of hiding her red skin. She’s both excited and shy about this, and she’s not sure where to settle. But she’s sure of the heat that sparks between her legs when you trace your touch from her jawline to her chin, where you gently lift. Your gaze is so intense that she flinches. 

“Well,” you say, bringing her eyes back to you, “what should I do about it?”

“Do what you want to me, master.”

From day one, a cat is what she reminds you of. Although she’s the eldest in her friend group with Chaewon and Yunjin, she’s still a kitten inside needing appreciation from her master. Maybe she saw in you too a master that would fit her needs well, who’d see her cute self as someone who’s also tantalizingly beautiful.

Today, you’re letting that come to life.

“Give me the leash. I know you prepared one.”

She blushes. “Of course, master.” She rises from her kneeled position to retrieve it.

Strike her ass that peeks roundly from beneath the hem of her skirt. Her cheeks bounce at the impact. As an effect, her legs shake, too. Her yelp is cute yet it sends a rush of happiness to the wrong place. 

“Bad kitten. Kittens like you don’t walk on two legs.”

“Sorry, master.”

Sakura’s now red ass is presented to you as she crawls on all fours to the corner of the room while you step out of your slacks. You could tell she gets off to the humiliation—her slit’s been dripping all over her thighs. 

The black device is dark compared to her gold collar. She picks it up with her mouth and crawls back to you. That’s right. Even if her knees burn and her hands turn red, a kitten will always crawl on command for her master.

She looks adorable with her face all sweaty from the effort. Doesn’t matter; she’ll be rewarded for it eventually.

You click the leash on. She meows appreciatively. How is it possible that an odd sound unfit for a woman like her gets you hard? You tap your lap, and she crawls up onto it. She never loses her act as a kitten.

“Fast learner.” With her stomach down, you’re able to touch her ass and cunt freely. Most cats like being petted on their backs, but yours would much rather have your hand on her cunt. Actually, you could touch her anywhere and still be met with a gush of arousal between her slim thighs. “What treat do you want for that?”

Sakura’s legs squirm together. You’d never grow tired of hearing her whimpering, but you strike her ass again. You’re a kind master, not a lenient one.

“I said: what treat do you want?”

“Want my master to eat my slutty catgirl pussy out…” she murmurs. 

Why not? 

You lift Sakura’s weightless body from your lap and drag her up the bed. In spite of her slight choking, you tug harder. At least this time she has the soft mattress under her knees rather than the cold floor. But good pets need training to become what they are.

Tie the leash in a harsh knot on one of the poles. Sakura’s still whimpering. You know she wants this treat so badly. Consequently: push her down. Spread her legs. There’s no gentleness here. Her skirt isn’t a problem when it’s length is miniscule. You’re free to eat her out as harshly as possible.

“Oh, oh, master!” Sakura’s gasps are loud despite the earliness of it all. She rolls the silky bedclothes in balls, trying to cope with your licking. It’s like you’ve reversed roles and you became the kitten that licked at her for supplement, just without the submissiveness. Either way, her senses immediately live for it and strive to get more.

Stick your tongue inside that addicting little hole. Your lips brush Sakura’s pussy lips, leaving open kisses on it. She’s so sensitive that a long, hard swipe of your tongue along her slit would have her nearly cumming. You were sure about that even before you tested it out. 

Your saliva and her juices connect. Hard to tell one from the other when you’re tonguefucking her and dragging all those delicious nectar out. It spills on her thighs, which you don’t see as a problem if you could lick it all up. You’re glad to have it stain your mouth as you kiss away at her inner thighs, then return to eating her out.

You plunge your tongue deep. Its tip flicks at her walls and sets a fire inside her. No amount of natural lubrication could keep it from burning. The magic of your mouth can be cruel and blissful at the same time.

“Fuck! Keep eating me, your tongue, holy shit—” 

Sakura gags after her attempt in lifting her head is restricted by the leash. The length you tied it at is too short for her to watch you or even react with a movement. It’s exactly what you want; exactly what she wants, too. The pain is mutually desired but so is the pleasure.

You spit on her cunt. “Did I say you get to order me around?” you ask.

Sakura shakes her head, yet another action the leash prevents her from performing properly.

“That’s what I thought. All I want to hear is your moans. Is that understood, kitten?”

“Yes! Ah, fffuck!”

Dive back in. If you weren’t full from Sakura’s amazing cooking earlier on, then you’re fed well with her pussy. You’re no pretentious dieter—you eat her pussy without shame. Perhaps you lick more than you can swallow with how she’s so sensitive and keeps leaking everywhere. Your tongue pushes and pulls from inside her orifice while your upper lip attends to her clit. Despite not having it in your mouth, you feel it pulsing.

You watch Sakura’s flat tummy rise and rest while you have your way with her. Measure its tempo. You’ve determined she’s close, if her thighs shivering around your head weren’t enough indicators. Jerk them to you and listen (if the hold of her thighs allows you) to the wonderful sounds of her strangled moaning.

“Hahk, oh god, please!”

Much to her disappointment, your fingers are only used to part her pussy lips rather than fuck her. But she’s happier with you licking wild lines on her velvety walls. It seems like your mouth could reach everything. Sakura starts to tremble more. It’s a warning, a not-safe-for-work sticker placed on an explicit track.

“Kitten’s c-cumming, I can’t hold it!” sobs your pet, unable to take any more. Her upper body joins in on the quivering, and you can see the delightful view of her tiny boobs bouncing from behind her top.

What’s next is the suction on her clit. You’ve saved suckling on it for now when she’s at her high. It’s a tested and proven method to amplify her orgasm. Once your lips seal at her clitoris, she lets out screams that almost sound like yowls. Her clawed fingernails start to scratch at your head. You’ll punish her for that later. Currently, you’ll focus on making her cream.

“Master, d-do me harder… master, master!”

The last of her orgasm subsides. That’s your cue to unfasten the leash from the headboard and pull the collar up. Sakura makes a weak, fragile sound that stirs a mixture of heat in your loins.

“No. Kittens don’t make the rules for their owners, do they, pet?”

Her beautiful face shows guilt, but no regrets. You expected that. “Sorry,” she says quietly. 

One would think she must have watched and taken notes from a lot of “tutorial” videos for her nuances—folding her hands, looking up at you with flinching eye contact, squirming—to be this pet-like (you know you have). But she’s just a natural catgirl, and she likes being used like this. The glint in her eyes can’t be mistaken for the lighting in the room.

Grip her collar tighter. “Do you expect me to reward bad behavior?”

“No.”

“Then get on all fours on the bed. I’m not letting up on you.”

Sakura is a little too happy to do as you say. However, you’re certain she isn’t prepared for the onslaught of lust about to be taken out on her.

You observe Sakura’s beautiful back. The line running down the center shows the hours she spent in the gym to work hard on it. It looks prettier with the thin crossing straps of the top running over it. Now your fingers are, too. You can trace Sakura’s shudders, right from her collared neck to her skirted ass.

Raise your hand high in the air, then slap her supple butt. While you’d tell her it’s to punish her, you think it’s just to hear her moan. It's a carnal instinct. Maybe you’re the animal here with your acts of nature. Doesn’t sound right; whether you slap or caress or pinch her, she’s the ever-loving pet. You notice it in the buckle of her knees and the hot breath that leaves her mouth. 

Sakura is a cat through and through, but you still like to fuck her doggy style.

“Ma-master,” she says upon the first few thrusts. She winces, then cries out a pathetic mewl, then repeats herself. This time, it’s tinier, needier: “Master, please.”

The innocently designed mirror in her room reflects back anything but innocent doings. You watch her face twist and whine in its glass. Sakura’s eyes meet yours and she’s turning red again. You didn’t take her for a red foreign cat. You see her more as a black cat.

She’s not so unlucky when she’s providing you this much tightness.

“Please what?” you chuckle. Your rhythm’s already cruel. “Gonna ask for more? Less? No, pet. You’re getting fucking punished.”

She’d definitely ask for more. Her sex drive is more of that of a rabbit than a kitten. Her wet pussy is so drenched that it makes squelching sounds in response to your hips. And, because you’re weak for her—a sucker for anything she wants—you give it to her harder.

Instead of grabbing her hips to pump, you’re using the leash. Sakura has to keep herself steady to stop her head from throwing back. It’s inevitable when your member pulls her apart and makes her take what she used to think she couldn’t. The collar’s already making fine lines on her neck. 

“Punish me, I’ll be a good kitten and obey you, I promise,” she says. Your thrusts get sloppier; her words do as well. “A-ahh, will take your cock any time of the day, on my knees, on the bed, however you like, master.”

God, the thoughts Sakura puts in your head. They’ll seriously put you at risk one day. Picturing her in those positions—on her knees sucking away at your length; on the bed like this with her cat ears frisking to and fro; and however you like, which means everything—impels you to stuff your rock hard dick in her with a might that shocks even you. See, you can do surprises, too.

“Really now?” Yank. In response, she gasps. Her headband almost falls off. Make the uncharacteristic move as a dominant master to slide it back on.

Sakura nods mindlessly. You know she’s wordlessly telling the truth. She deserves a good squeeze on her perfect tits for the dedication.

But you raise the stakes. How far can she go as your pet? How far can you go as her master?

“Even if you don’t get to cum when you want?”

It’s laughable how Sakura immediately whines. Looks like her love for your cock is conditional. To make it harder for her, you start to couple your swift pumps with a finger on her clit. One rub, two rubs, and three—you might as well be counting sheep with how her eyes close.

That sets her off. Your pet begins to shout. She’s never been a girl to talk excessively. Now, it’s the opposite; she babbles and cries and sobs like her life depends on it. For the record, her bliss does, but it’s nowhere as close to her life.

It’s starting to look like it though. Sakura’s frenzied actions consist of pushing her core back to you, filling herself up with your cock even if the leash is there to pull her to you, and repeating your title. She fills the pretty, well-furnished bedroom with the dirtiest sounds unapologetically. If your abandoned clothes on the floor had ears, they’d be deaf by now. Hell, you’re surprised you aren’t.

Her pussy gets messier with each pump. Your tip kissing her deepest parts grants you several gushes of need. They fall onto the mattress, their stains becoming a task for later. Your only wish at this moment is to fuck Sakura to her wits’ end. 

“I need to cum, master,” she says. The alarm in her voice could be mistaken as a warning for a fire or an emergency. 

Does she really? You’re not quite sure of that. Continue to give out your punishment. Fuck her like she’s a catgirl who’d die if you didn’t. Redden her unblemished skin with bruises and marks of your hand. Her hole’s splashing with wetness, and you’re starting to get really close yourself. 

She’s starting to slump. Tears from her eyes blot the white sheets underneath your bodies. “Cum, please, I need to…”

One of the final tugs of her leash for the night. With her back to your chest and your mouth next to her ear, you ask her a question that won’t determine her climax. Knowing you, even if she answers wrong, you’re still letting her cream deliciously all over your girth.

“Are you my good kitten?” you rasp in her ear.

“Yes!” she instantly replies.

Scoff. “No, you aren’t.”

You firmly rub her clit while bottoming out in her. Sakura’s throat is sore from screaming although it’s far from the last time she’ll do it. 

“You’re not a good kitten when all you want to do is fuck your master instead of obeying him. You just want me to fuck you in every part of the house, fill you over and over. You’re the bad thing who wanted to be my pet. So what are you, Sakura?”

Sakura’s hole squeezes you as hard as her collar chokes her neck. Sizable tits bouncing, mouth agape, hands curled on her collar, she replies in the form of another scream.

“A, a bad little kitten, master! His property and plaything, the one he makes cum over and over! So please, master, let me!”

Good answer. “Cum.”

“Ohhhh!” 

Sakura would have collapsed on the bed if it weren’t for your hold on her. Her body weakens and fails. The bed is flooded with her climax. Hearing her normally quiet voice reach this level of highness and whininess is an otherworldly experience. Eke more out of her; you’re pumping slowly but surely. Let it possess great impact but measured pace.

“You okay, pet?” you ask gently.

Sakura’s delicious, tight body trembles in its lingerie. Her breaths are short and sporadic. Through it all, there’s a satisfied smile on her face as she nods. It relieves you of the thought that you unknowingly might have gone too far.

“Why didn’t you cum inside me?”

“Good pets get bred, Sakura.”

“Since when did you legit care about me being a good pet?” she laughs.

“Ever since I thought you’d like to drink your ‘milk’ instead.”

Sakura bites her lip. It’s deadlier when she’s wearing that sultry cat lingerie. Your cock remains stiff seeing it.

“Oh, master.” She smiles. “I have the perfect place.”

-

The Kitty Corner. Not Kitty Korner, for alliteration’s sake, but the Kitty Corner. Cats have favorite places: a shoe, a fluffy tower, the sofa. Sakura is no different. This place, which is the corner of this room, is where she likes it best. It’s no different from any other room corner save for the plushies that line up on the wall. She likes it pressed against it, on the floor, whatever. But she loves it when she has her head pressed against the corner while you fuck away at her mouth.

This is the first time it’s been given a name, and the first time you’re fucking her to it as her master. You tried to be slow in taking her there, as if you weren’t all that excited. But your drag on her leash betrayed your real emotions.

Once Sakura is in position, her tongue sticks out. She must have forgotten that she’s a kitten, not a puppy. That won’t stop you from sliding yourself inside her warm mouth.

It begins. You rub your cock on her tongue before welcoming it in the hollow of her mouth. Like her pussy, her inviting mouth is wet and ready. Sakura tastes herself on your dick. She licks away at everything: the remnants of her orgasm from under it, your cockhead, your base. It’s not even her milk yet, but her eyes light up. 

“Be good,” you warn. “No biting.”

Her lips lift into a smirk. Then, you feel her teeth graze ever so lightly on you.

At first, you were content to get yourself off in her mouth. You could have chosen to rub your tip on the flat of her tongue or the inside of her cheek. But now, you give out another punishment. You ram your length down her throat. Training doesn’t help her avoid gagging for she does it anyway. Now her eyes light up in surprise, too.

“M-mmm!”

“Warned you, kitten,” you say with a laugh.

With only your hand on the back of her head to protect it, you start to fuck Sakura’s throat. Her gagging only gives more tightness that seals around you. Her airway is shut and it’ll be that way for a long time unless she behaves.

Sakura can’t even cough or say anything. It’s painful pleasure with her thighs squirming to give her a little bliss, and your cock not allowing her even a moment to breathe. You’re not even tugging her anymore—you’re putting all the force in shoving yourself inside her, as if you had little time to spare.

Her tongue wiggles about in an attempt for air, but as if you couldn’t be more cruel with your training, you close her mouth shut. You warned her, and she still decided to disobey. 

Her lost breaths warm your cock. Push them back to her throat. This kitten needs to learn her lesson, even if it requires another. 

As if she couldn’t get any lewder, Sakura’s last resort is to mount the leg of her favorite puppy plushie, the one you gifted her. You bet that the manufacturers didn’t know that its use was for her own little pleasure, to serve as a place to grind until the blissful torture ends. She grinds forward and you’re welcomed further in her throat. There’s no escape. Does she even want an escape?

You can feel spurts of air from her nostrils. She’s getting close. This punishment isn’t even a punishment if presented with how her nipples stick out that hard from beneath the fabric, how she’s riding the toy’s leg, how she licks still and all. Her only signs of resistance are her palms on your thighs.

“Thirsty, pet?” 

Sakura squeezes her eyes shut, grinds harder, and nods. Her sigh is the closest thing to a verbal response.

“Then have your milk.”

It’s only then that you loosen your grip on her head. You release inside of her mouth and give her the milk she deserves. There’s plenty of it to go around, but it’s all for her. Only for her.

But letting go of her causes her to collapse. Her knees trip over nothing and send her falling onto her plush. The cum spills down Sakura’s chest and midriff like an explicit rainfall. She gasps for air, torn between trying to swallow the cum and catching her breath.

At least there’s the puppy plushie to embrace her.

A kitten and a puppy.

How ironic.

You kneel down to her level and raise her chin. You’d say she wasted her milk, but she’s Sakura. Nothing is gone to waste if it’s her, especially if it makes her look so beautiful. Dazed eyes, tired parted lips, and panting painted tummy.

Beautiful.

Yep, she’s beautiful. 

“Are you a good kitten?”

“Yes?” she asks hopefully, exhaustedly. 

“Of course not.” You pat her head. Still your little pet. “You’re the best.”

[vespertin-y]

here’s the next part of my liveblog - this time, ch2′s investigation! i had a lot to say...sorry for having strong feelings about the silly anime game it will happen again.

-kiibo’s gayass scream when they threw him into the tank made me CACKLE, i love him but his suffering is always a little bit funny sorry

-”h-how...!? how...could this happen!? we...swore to each other, didn’t we? we swore we’d never let the killing game happen again. so that was all just a lie! you guys are liars! all you liars, apologize to ryoma! he believed the killing game wouldn’t happen anymore!” this is, iirc, the most extended reaction kokichi ever has to a body discovery. normally it’s just a line or two, but he goes for a whole monologue here! it makes sense - ryoma and him had a fairly friendly relationship. ryoma never calls him out for lying (just occasionally tells him not to be so loud) and once notes that kokichi, like him, seems like he doesn’t plan to survive the killing game. add that to the fact that kokichi SAW kirumi’s motive video, failed to show it to anyone, and spent a significant amount of time trying to distract her with “tag” last night, and it’s not hard to imagine one of the “liars” he’s so mad at for letting the killing game start up again is...well...himself.

-i’ve never understood why the monokuma files are physical tablets that get handed out to everyone, rather than just being files added to their monopads. seems like a waste of resources mr monokuma!!

-”i’ll take full responsibility. since you’re my sidekick, there’s nothing to worry about.” i have to admit, it’s pretty clever. it soothes shuichi’s anxieties about difficult decisions, which makes the trial go smoother, while simultaneously feeding kaito’s hero....thing.

-it’s time we talk about what the fuck shuichi’s fingers are doing in his thinking sprite. WHY DO THEY LOOK LIKE THAT.

-all of them wondering how himiko got out of the tank when there’s visible door hinges on the stairs is KILLING ME.

-”good luck, shuichi! after all, it’s gonna be you doing all the heavy lifting here!” “ah...right.” “what do you mean “right”!? are you saying i’m useless!?” KAITO A MAN IS DEAD WE DON’T HAVE TIME FOR YOUR COMPLEX

-”but, i think leaving that guy alone is just plain bad...” [tsumugi gave kokichi a meaningful glance.] “so, i’ve decided to plainly keep an eye on him.” OCs already getting away from you, tsumugi?

- “yeah...we shoulda gathered together and watched all the videos. share everybody’s motives. even if it’s something you can’t bear by yourself, it’d be possible with everyone. that��s what cooperation is, right?” “that’s...what kokichi was trying to do.” “huh?” “kokichi was trying to get us to participate in a motive video viewing party of sorts. that’s why he forced us into the same room. do you think that was his way of cooperating? do you think the same way?” “n-no...if that’s what he wanted, he coulda just asked us. that’s what a normal person woulda done, but the thing is, he’s *not* normal. maybe he did want us to cooperate, but there’s no way to know for sure. he’d never tell us.” [that’s true...it’s impossible to know what kokichi is thinking. but...i suppose he *could* have been acting in our favor for once.] IMGONNA KILL MYSELF HE SAID TO YOUR FACE, LITERALLY YESTERDAY THAT OPEN COOPERATION WOULD GET YOU MURDERED!! YOU CAN’T CRACK OPEN HIS THOUGHT PROCESS AND THEN GO “bUt He’S tHe EmBoDiMeNt Of a LiE tHo” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. i keep trying to write a longer analysis of this and then dissolving into incomprehensible rage. kodaka wants kokichi to be cool and unsolvable and mysterious soooo bad that he accidentally gives his genius detective short-term memory loss. i haven’t unclenched my jaw in seventeen days.

-the prison-themed bathroom is so pointedly cruel, god...and it’s not even the worst thing that monokuma does to ryoma this chapter.....

-[no! i want to live! i want to live a long life! i don’t want to die! i can’t die in a place like this! never!] U GO SHUICHI!!

-”himiko’s so suspicious, she’s gotta be a red herring, right?” I Love Tsumugi Shirogane

-”you’re thinking too hard about it...living things just gotta live. anyway, no matter what happens to us, we gotta live!” “yeah...you don’t really need a reason to live. that’s just the icing on the cake!” kaito and kokichi agreeing on something and it’s NOT about hiding important things from their friends?? i never thought i’d see the day...

-”i did not calculate that we would gather here under these circumstances again...what would kaede say if she saw us right now...?” aww, kiibo :[

-[normally, i wouldn’t mind the shaking...but i’m feeling especially sensitive to it now. each of us felt that trembling through our entire bodies as we sank further still. without sure footing, i’m positive i would have fallen as well. my breathing was becoming more ragged, my heart pounded harder and harder...just when i thought i would pass out from the nerves - the elevator came to a stop.] SHUICHI THAT’S NOT “NERVES” YOU JUST DESCRIBED AN ANXIETY ATTACK D: 

-”you put a lot of elaborate detail into this courtroom. almost like it’s for show.” “for show, huh? that’s an interesting way to put it.” “is this just for show? are you showing this to the people outside and-” sorry, kirumi, but you, kokichi, and monokuma have very different ideas about “the people outside”....you’re not even having the same conversation, really.

-that’s as far as we get before the trial! see you next time!!

[dokiyeom]

THE TAG IS SO SO CUTE ILL END IT 💥💥 u should send me more asks & ill give u an emoji hihi 🫶🫶 IM EXCITED TOO YAY i have so many fic & smau ideas so im glad i can work on them then! (maybe i should tell u a few of them 🤭 ....)

that sounds so nice!! i think i recently ate sukiyaki (?) && it was so so good! baking and mahjong 💔💔💔 im glad u had so much fun because i also completely get what u mean?? i don't have any family here nor do i have any cousins/family members of my age + the distance is just 👎 so im not in contact with any yk

im still . flabbergasted like i want to go 2 japan too hello 😭 tbh at first i thought u lived in maybe japan or IDK but then u said u would show ur friends ur motherlands? so i was like ??? and also I WANNA KNOW UR TIMEZONE PLSPLS pleaseee yes im dutch & french but was born in the netherlands and lived there for 10ish years before moving to France!!

OK I WILL WATCH AN EPISODE SOON THEN!! pls this is so funny YES ik jay + me = twins hihi i hope so too!! that would be really cool but im just waiting impatiently for the official announcement rn so that i can mark it on my calendar, BOOM! ill also go to a big city just before my bday so maybe MAYBE if I have some pocket money i could buy myself a cute dress for the party and or an album teehee YA I HOPE U FIND IT IN JAPAN OMG im curious do u alr have some albums or like merch

i LOVE sudoku omg ,, it's so cool that ur using photoshop like u made ur carrd thingy with that right? it's so pretty i will never not say that. im sure ur gonna do v well hihi 🫶

i will !!! try to drop by ur ask box more frequently !!! unfortunately i’m,, a tiny bit awful at coming up w ideas on what to say but i will try !!!! and hello yes ??? u should 100% tell me abt ur smau ideas !!! or fic ideas in general && in return,, i’ll share some of my horribly messy notes app full of fic ideas w u <3

aagg i’m so happy u enjoyed sukiyaki !! if u get the chance,, i highly rec kansai style sukiyaki unless eating a bit of semi raw egg feels unnatural or intimidating !! i feel like i should b more loyal to kanto style bc i’m from the kanto area,, but kansai sukiyaki is just. wow. && aagg yea i feel u :(( i think it allows for u to b a lot closer a family friends bc they end up sorta being a proxy,, but it does kinda suck not being close or in contact w extended family <//3

i hope ur able to go someday !!! && my time zone is pacific standard time !! or pacific time atm bc of daylight savings,, but i did live in japan for a while &’& am considering moving back there after uni !! and woa hello u live in france ?? that is so cool omg,, i def want to visit france at some point for the fashion museums and exhibitions wraaaa :0 also fun fact,,, i took a plants/human welfare course last yr && the only thing i really rmbr from that was tulip’s apparently caused an economic recession in the netherlands during the early 1600s :D

EXCITED FOR U TO WATCH !! and omg what if the cb announcement is after woozis done posting all the album pics on his instagram :00 but oo what sort of dress would u get ? lw i’m so insanely picky w dresses that for prom i’ve just decided to get a lower costing plain dress && alter it + sew on an egregious amount of accessories

&& yes i have albums !! for merch i have a candy bong && moa bong that i got for the twice n txt concert i went to,, but unfortunately i stood in like for like an hr and a half at the svt concert mercy line only to reach sort of the front area && hear a staff member at the truck yell that carat bongs were completely sold out <//3 i do have. a pc binder that both brings me sm joy && shame for realizing how much money i’ve spent on. silly little pieces of paper w people taking silly little selfies tho. what abt u :0

RIGHT SUDOKU IS SO <3 but it’s also caused me like. sm headaches omg. and thank uu <3 i did make it on photoshop !! but i’m considering making a new one w more of a powerpuff girls/ diff take on a retro cyber theme :D

[ozonecologne]

Review and Analysis: Some Things I Still Can’t Tell You

Some of you that know me on here may remember that I am a PhD candidate in literature, specializing in poetry. I was obviously very excited to hear that Misha Collins would be publishing a book of poems, since it felt like my two worlds would be colliding!

Well. The time has come, the book is out, and I have read it.

My personal feelings about Misha are generally positive, and I know a fair bit about him due to my extended time following his career, so I can’t say that this review will be completely impartial. I am still going to do my best to consider the text on its own merit! With that being said, my overall feeling about the collection is pretty positive; I would give it a 4 out of 5 stars, maybe a high 3 if I were being really critical. If you want to know why that is, and what some of my favorite parts of the collection are, please do read on!

Here’s my review and analysis of Some Things I Still Can’t Tell You by Misha Collins.

You can tell write away (ha) that Misha Collins is a fan of Mary Oliver (x, x, x). Not only does he shout her out by name on page 97, but all of the poems in Some Things are written in her plain language slice-of-life style. The poems don’t rhyme, there isn’t a consistent meter among them, and very few of them ever go over a page in length. Other poets that write this way would be Rupi Kaur or Bukowski, though if you’re looking for a comparison I’d say that I’m biased towards Collins. This style is very accessible to different kinds of readers, so I think that even people that aren’t huge fans of Poetry-with-a-capital-P could like it!

The collection is divided into six sections, and the format stays consistent within them. They are:

Love poems (19 poems)

Hope, joy, running & other good things (11 poems)

Longing, sadness, running & foreboding (10 poems)

My people (& other people) (6 poems)

The parents (6 poems)

The kids (7 poems)

Each is fairly self-explanatory in terms of content. The first section is obviously the longest (containing 1/3 of the total poems), and consists of work largely dedicated to or written about the poet’s wife, who he writes in the acknowledgements is “the most important grown-up in my life” despite their recent separation (134). The poems in this section are at once charming and bittersweet: we get earnestly sincere peeks into a blissful life spent in trust and companionship peppered with realizations that those moments are limited, brought on by a newfound mourning. Descriptions of making blanket forts and reading island guidebooks are interrupted by scenes set in sterile and lonely hotel rooms or on snowy sidewalks, the mood ranging from gratitude to despair.

One thing that makes reading this collection difficult to read at times is that the poems are in no way linear, and yet span an incredible amount of time. The timeline of these poems jumps around from the speaker’s early childhood to his time as a parent himself, and even then his children vary in age from poem to poem. It is unclear sometimes when these poems are set, and what brings on some of their ‘morals’ – where are we in the timeline when the speaker admits to his sadness? Why exactly does the speaker feel the way that he feels? The collection is very aware of this temporal soupiness, often making references to “old poems” or rereading one’s work in a very meta way so that readers are never sure when or where the poet is in relation to us. This is almost certainly intentional: not going chronologically through the timeline is one last effort to preserve a small sense of privacy, even as the poet’s innermost thoughts and feelings are laid bare on the page.

Love poems is a perfect example of this non-linear chronology. We begin with the speaker and his eventual wife’s first kiss shared as teenagers, which teleports us to their relationship as adults, and then the next poem ends with a somber reflection on the end of the relationship, casting the previous poem as a retrospect. Are all the poems in this section written from the perspective of the present-day speaker, looking back and reflecting on the relationship? We can’t ever be sure. The final section of the collection, The kids, begins with “Baby Pants,” noted with an asterisk as the first poem that the poet ever wrote. In another from the same section, he writes in present tense that “we have a baby on the way” (121). Some of the poems included in this collection are not retrospectives, but truly artifacts from the poet’s past; we have no real way of knowing which poems are which, or what the poet knows when. We simply have to take the insights within them for what they are, even when removed from their context. Though broader themes do arise in each of the sections, finding a continuous overarching message about love or parenthood or anything else is intentionally confounded. This is not a collection proposing any sort of thesis on a topic, and yet still manages to feel cohesive throughout.

Some of my favorites from Love Poems include “Sun and Shadow,” “A Five Point Eight,” “June Second,” and “The Center.” “June Second” is a fan-favorite, having been published once before – it’s the one that ends, “‘I haven’t been waiting for anything.’ / But she has. / I know it” (19). A later poem, “Junk Mail” (121) actually mentions this poem and the magazine it was originally published in. (The month of June also recurs in the collection, but it’s unclear whether this is just coincidental or if there is something significant about June for the poet.) The finale of “June Second” embodies a breakdown of communication that becomes central for the collection – this is the first major exchange that we see when someone does not say what the other person knows they mean or intuits to be the truth, widening a distance that may ultimately lead to the separation described by the end of the section. There isn’t much conflict in the collection itself, but rather the avoidance of it – the first poem, “The Kiss,” is arguably the harshest one, detailing the aftermath of a fight wherein the speaker demands, “‘Don’t leave me like that. Be nice before you go’” (3). Yet the final poem of the section, “The Center,” is set after the speaker’s partner has already ‘left’ them. All the in-between is the “being nice,” and still the distance grows until its inevitable conclusion: the “going.”

The complimentary bookends of the section are thankfully repeated patterns in the collection: each section ends relatively where it began, even though the sections are about different things and feature different characters. This is largely what contributes to the sense of cohesion I mentioned earlier, and it’s smart narrative writing. I enjoy when poetry collections do this kind of self-referencing, it’s clever and reflects a lot more effort than simply slapping down a series of unrelated poems.

A line from “A Five Point Eight” that I like and which also becomes symbolic for the collection as a whole: “‘Please God, let me have / built this home strong enough’” (13). The poet is not referring to a house, the literal object threatened by the 5.8 earthquake described, but a home, the more emotional bond built within the house itself. The poet is speaking on different levels here.

And yet even this selfless prayer reflects another theme of this section, and the collection as a whole: the threat of selfishness. The first line, “Please God let me have” centers the possession of the speaker as his first priority: his prayer is for his own having. It isn’t until the second half of that enjambed line – “built this home strong enough” – that we realize that what he wants to “have” is not an object, but a truth about himself: that he built a stable home. The poem “AM” similarly features care for oneself; it begins with a reflection on the speaker’s sleeping wife and quickly devolves into an important reminder that “I have to remember to / Be grateful for me” on top of everything else (21). Even in “Negativity Bias,” when struggling to find a “cause” or a reason for writing, the speaker admits that “when I write, I am writing / Mostly just for me” (54). The full impact of being self-centered in these ways isn’t made clear until much later in the collection, where more negative emotions start to take center-stage. It’s ironic, given that many of these poems, like “Suddenly” (47) or “Watershed” (49), celebrate small and inanimate forms of life usually unappreciated by others; oftentimes, the speaker does not afford this same courtesy to the people around him.

One of the most impactful poems, and what I consider to be the center of the collection overall, is “Eugenia” from Longing, sadness, running & foreboding (73). Almost the exact middle of the book, “Eugenia” tells a story of the speaker’s taming of a Eugenia plant, which keeps growing taller than is aesthetically pleasing. Eventually, invasive mites threaten the health of the plant, and the speaker seeks an expert’s advice on how to treat it. The following exchange occurs:

You see, your Eugenia Wants to be a tree.” I told her, “I want it to be a hedge.”

I only wish I knew What I wanted me to be. (73)

The self-centeredness is two-fold in this poem: first, the speaker cares more about what he wants the plant to be than what the plant itself wants, or needs to be healthy. This is, ostensibly, to the detriment of the plant. Second, the focus of this poem is not even on the plant at all – the speaker’s last reflection is about what he wants for himself. The plant with a female name is lost entirely by the end, even though she is the subject of the poem. He only comes to a realization about the effects of this kind of behavior a few pages later, when he attempts to kill the fleas making home in his lawn. As he drowns his lawn in a “toxic wash. / Oily spray. / Foam” and sees the resulting exodus of wildlife from the grass – once so admired in “Suddenly” (47) – he stands there asking himself, “What have I done?” (81).

We get a natural continuation on the very next page. This same “pruning” can be seen in another one of the more shocking poems of the collection, “In My Hotel Bed.” The speaker is alone in a hotel room when he receives a call from his wife requesting to play “the appreciation game,” where they swap compliments back and forth, since she misses him very dearly. Instead of engaging with her in this game, a gesture of love between them, the speaker says “no” and admits to “closing off and wanting rest” before turning back to his poetry (83). It is not clear whether he has hung up the phone by the end or whether he has simply turned down the game, but either way this refusal to engage recalls the same destructive focus on the self in “Eugenia.” It may be no coincidence that the poet’s wife’s name is “Victoria,” quite similar to “Eugenia.”

Of course it’s good to be selfish now and again, but the poet’s self-centeredness does not just affect his partner or his plants. It also affects his relationship with his children. For example, in “Present. Tense.” the poet describes taking his children to a park, and his son calls out to him: “Chase me, Dad!” (126). Like “In My Hotel Bed,” instead of engaging in the game, the speaker instead preoccupies himself with “seeing what important things / Have happened on my iPhone” (126). Work, his own insular world on a device, takes up more of his attention. He is chagrined by this by the end of the poem when his daughter wishes on a dandelion, “I wish for this,” a saying that has stuck with him to this day (127). “Present. Tense.” is the penultimate poem in The kids, and the last one is your standard I want to savor all the moments I have with my children poem, the conclusion of a developmental arc ending with a horrible thought: “What have I missed?” which the poet asks once before in “Baby Pants” (129).

The parents section provides us with some clarity on this; the first two poems describe the speaker’s feelings of invisibility around his own mother, which have ostensibly begun repeating themselves now that he himself is a parent. (Perhaps this explains the many moments when he draws attention to being pressured to have kids.) The poet writes that she is “already forgetting I am there” when he first arrives to visit her, and he leans against her windowsill “unseen” on the very next page (103, 105). This emotional detachment, a difficulty connecting even to the ones we love the most, stretches from past to present, and already threatens the future. The speaker in “Marder” ruminates on what it may be like when a long friendship ends, either in death or otherwise, just as the speaker in “The Center” admits that to force himself to cry he thinks of his marriage ending (which has now come to pass).

The central tension in the collection, if we can say that there is one, is I think located squarely between two lines: “What have I done?” (81) and “What have I missed?” (117, 129). The poet reflects on the realities of what he has accomplished, both good and bad, and at the same time cannot seem to stop himself from fixating both on moments forever lost to the past because of his myopia, and on alternate futures that he’s effectively killed by making the choices that he has.

And so we come to the title.

It is interesting to note that the title of this collection is not “Some Things I Still Can’t SAY.” The title is, “Some Things I Still Can’t TELL YOU.” While the “you” in the poems is ever-shifting, sometimes settling on one person more than another (and perhaps even addressing the poet himself at times), a clear preoccupation in the collection is telling rather than saying, admitting to another what one feels in a moment of vulnerability. In poems like “Morning, World,” the speaker “without thinking” says “out loud, / ‘I love you, world’” as if on “some territorial primate reason” (53). This moment of obvious joy and instinctually easy saying is deeply contrasted with poems like “In My Hotel Bed,” and especially “Taxi.” In the latter, the speaker’s complicated relationship with his mother is represented by a car ride to the airport; he taps the seat of the car and his mother “mistakes it for a reach,” before taking the speaker’s hand in her own. In response, he “whisper[s], ‘I love you,’” with far less intention or confidence than in the scene from “Morning, World” (109). Saying is easier than telling.

There are, of course, things that the speaker still cannot say aloud, whether told to a specified “you” or otherwise. From “The Commuter:” “I didn’t want to say it… / I HAVE A DRIVER” (95). The poet’s discomfort surrounding class becomes apparent in his reluctance to state certain truths about his own situation, preferring instead to do some mental acrobatics to say these same things in different ways: “I used to / Force a conversation / To disguise us as / Just two guys carpooling” (95). Speaking empty words in conversation here functions to avoid speaking heavier words. In the end, though, he is still able to say it even if he doesn’t want to through the act of writing it down for an imagined reader.

The title itself makes two appearances in the collection: the first quite early on in “Sun and Shadow,” and the second in “Wild Flower,” 79 pages apart. 

“Just a café,” I lied, / As I opened the door to a tanning salon. / There are some things I still can’t tell you. (11)

In the car again, / Drowsing from a sleepless night, / I thought of all the things I didn’t say. (90)

We again see the difficult tell vs. say in play here, and the moments are different but written with a similar sentiment. In the first, the speaker lies to his wife about going to a café rather than a tanning salon while on the phone with her. It’s an early introduction to the reality of the speaker’s narcissism, only spurred on by his job as an actor, as opposed to who he wishes he could be. He does not want to admit to himself or to others that he cares about his appearance in a shallow way, and so does not speak it into truth. He instead substitutes other words. He may still have internalized the just barely “passing grade” that he is given as a person in “The Bell Curve,” despite his claims to the contrary (57).

The second line refers to a moment spent driving to see the poppy blooms in California as part of a group that includes “a close friend / (An almost lover)” sitting in the backseat (90). After the friend explains some facts about flowers, the speaker confesses that he “searched for words / To convey a feeling / (Maybe longing), / But nothing came” – one of my favorite passages from the collection (90). The travelers then stop at a gas station to ask for directions, where the speaker makes a point to note a “blushing man” buying condoms and a newspaper (90). The only thing that the speaker can think to “say” at the end of this poem is, “‘Look. / Look at all those flowers’” (91). The revelation feels similar to the other poems wherein a blade of grass or a dandelion becomes the poet’s singular focus, objects beautiful in themselves but that come to stand in for the much more important revelation that everything in this world has value if we slow down enough to really see them.

So: the first mention of the title in the collection itself is an admission of shame. The second is an admission of a failure to communicate, but not a discomfort or dislike of doing so. The first is active suppression, the second is an honest attempt at something. The title then can be said to refer to both things that we are UNABLE to say to someone else due to their scope or enormity, as well as things that we are UNWILLING to say, for various reasons. Both kinds of truth are born out of different forms of intimacy, all highlighted in this collection.

I think that Some Things represents these two topics quite well, especially with its strategic use of silence and miscommunication. I also think that the more pleasant parts of this collection are quaint and cute, and I enjoyed reading them. I wondered initially why something like “Couch Camping” (23) might be included in a work so otherwise preoccupied with failure, but I think that the answer is more obvious than we might think: it is just as hard to put the supremely good into words as it is to give voice to the bad. This is a poet who frequently admits that he has to remind himself to be grateful for all that is around him, that voicing appreciation even for small things is important, and that the present is really our only guarantee despite our many ambitions. This is someone that doesn’t always say how he feels, whether it’s a positive or negative feeling, and it can be hard to explain love to someone even when you know that they love you too. Sometimes all we can do is say something aloud to the world, or to a blade of grass, or to a passing stranger. Perhaps “telling” has too much intention behind it.

I am reminded again of “The Center,” the last of the Love poems: the poet’s iPhone gives him a featured photo captioned “For you,” depicting him and his now-separated wife in Bali. His first instinct is to text the photo to her, writing, “‘I will always feel this way about you. / I will never not love you’” (39). For all he cannot tell her, at least he has told her this. And, with these poems, perhaps she will be able to see the world, especially the best parts of it, a little better through his eyes.

We complimented each other for having Told the truth, For having that to count on All these years. (11)

Thus the selfishness in “Negativity Bias” – “And, when I write, I am writing / Mostly just for me” – is really just the opposite: to express yourself for your own sake is really to strengthen the bonds that you have with other people. Write what you feel you cannot say, and summon the courage to allow others to see it. Only then do you become less alone, even when you feel you cannot speak.

The poems aren’t always super attention-grabbing and some of the fat could be cut from it, but Some Things I Still Can’t Tell You is without doubt a labor of love, with minimal clichés and some clever writing to boot. It’s a solid debut and I appreciate its tenderness; I applaud Misha Collins for his work on it. I hope that everyone featured in it feels a little closer to him.

Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ 

Personal favorites: June Second, The Center, Fire and Water Parts I and II, Eugenia, In My Hotel Bed, Present. Tense.

................................................................................................................

POST-SCRIPT:  I know that some of you are just wondering what kind of juicy gossip we get about Misha’s life from these poems, and, first of all, that’s a little creepy, but second of all: I’m sorry to disappoint you, it truly isn’t that much. Things that might be of interest if you’re just invested in Misha as a person:

A really brief mention of “shared partners” between him and his wife in “A Meal of Beets” (7)

Admitting that his motivation to cry while acting was imagining losing Vicky (39)

A description of a time when Misha actively ran into a burning Griffith Park, described as the moment when he truly thought he would die, before abruptly being saved in “Fire and Water, Part 1: Absolution” (62)

A description of a moment that could have ended with him cheating, but didn’t, titled “The Wrong Road” (85) 

A poem for Darius entitled “Marder” wherein he contemplates the value of their friendship and speculates on the eventual loss of him, presumably in the same way that he has now lost his wife (97)

A mention of a new male friend trying to kiss him once and wondering about their relationship in “Men in Woods” (99)

Multiple descriptions of feeling neglected by his mother and yet idealizing his absent father in the entire fifth section, The parents – from the line “Just before my mom / Moved us away from him” it seems like he holds some resentment towards his mother that doesn’t apply to his father (113)

A frankly difficult-to-read description of Vicky’s difficult pregnancy in “The Seal” (123)

He also admits in the acknowledgements that his siblings and various other family members were not “substantially written about” in the collection. He further clarifies that “the poems in this book don’t highlight the virtues of my childhood” (135). The book is dedicated to his children, West and Maison.

[baroquebucky]

embrace

soulmate au where when you touch your soulmate you see glimpses of your future with them; the winter soldier touches you and realizes there’s so much more out there

series masterlist // previous // next

part three

word count: 2.3k

masterlist

a/n: hi bffs !!! here is the third installment for my soulmate au !! i think I’ll make one or two more parts and then end it ! let me know what you guys think i love reading your thoughts !! <3 (bonus points if u find all the parallels heh)

You didn’t hesitate throwing your arms around him, tears flowing down your cheeks as you held onto him tightly. Bucky held you just as tight, burrowing his face in your shoulder and a smile on his face.

Bucky felt home. He felt the way he imagined the smell of freshly baked cookies would feel, he felt warm and fuzzy. Bucky felt happy.

“i- where have you been what happened i thought- we all- oh my god steve he’s been going crazy and-” you rambled, a smile on your face. You looked at bucky, he was just as tall as your remembered, his eyes a bit brighter and you felt your heart flutter.

“oh come in!” You chuckled, pulling him by his metal arm into your home, a smile on your face as you led him to your living room.

“i never introduced myself” he spoke, eyes on the ground as you prepared two cups of hot chocolate. You looked at him, laughing lightly.

“guess you didn’t huh” you replied, taking out the cups and putting in some marshmallows before walking back over to the couch, setting the two cups on the table and turning to face him.

“I’m y/n” you smiled brightly, extending your hand out. Bucky grinned, shaking your hand and introducing himself.

“I’m bucky” you felt your face heat up as he smiled at you, much different from the last time when you looked at each other.

“does Steve know you’re here? that you’re you?” you questioned, eyeing him to try and get read on his body language. He shifted slightly, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

“not really no, i-” he hesitated before fiddling with his hands and speaking up again, “ive been laying low, i just couldn’t stop thinking about you and the visions i saw” he spoke, blushing and you couldn’t stop the smile on your face.

“i couldn’t either” you replied, looking at him before looking at the way the marshmallows melted into the hot chocolate. “I was so worried these past couple of months, i tried helping steve and Sam but it was so much and we were getting no where” you mumbled, heart falling as you thought of all your fruitless efforts.

Bucky noticed the way your voice trembled as you spoke and how you grilled the mug a little tighter. He felt his chest tighten.

“I’m here now doll” he spoke softly, moving to put your mug down and pulling you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

You relaxed into his touch, tears welling in your eyes once more, you let yourself lean into him, closing your eyes for a second and enjoying his embrace.

“i missed you so much, can’t believe i could miss someone i didn’t even know that much” you laughed, sniffling lightly as you pulled away

“we’re soulmates dollface, we’re meant to be” he smiled softly at you and you nodded, a small smile as you wiped away a couple stray tears.

It was easy to fall into comfortable conversation with each other. All laughs and giggles as you spoke, the sun high in the sky already and the city wide awake despite it being early in the morning.

You so happy to have bucky with you, a smile on your face as you started to think of all you had to show him, thoughts of the future you had seen made you giddy with excitement.

“oh you have to meet Sam! The two of you would be so funny together bickering all the time- oh also there’s this coffee shop i really like, very quaint but-” you rambled, trying to fit in everything you wanted to tell bucky.

“I’m moving” bucky cut you off, a frown on his face as he glanced over at you. He focused his gaze on you, stomach dropping when you stared at him with a confused expression.

“like here? to New York?” You were quiet, knowing that’s not what he meant. Bucky but his bottom lip in frustration before turning to you with sad eyes.

“romania, i cant be here- not while HYDRA is still out there and I’m wanted for everything I’ve done” bucky frowned. Your heart broke in your chest, you wanted to curl up and cry.

You just got him back. You had lost him twice already, you weren’t sure if you could handle a third.

“you can’t- i just got you back you can’t go” you shook your head, eyes watery already. You held his hand tightly and bucky wanted to badly to stay.

“i have to” he whispered, “you know i do.”

And you did, you knew this was his best chance and you had to let him go. You knew how painful it would be and how much you would miss him. You thought about the amount of time you had cried at night, wishing you could get to the future already.

But you also knew you would get your happy ending, you knew at some point in your life you would be happily in love and laughing in a meadow of flowers watching a sunset with him. And that’s what you held onto.

“promise me you’ll come back to me” you whispered, scooting closer to him, his hands still in yours.

“I always will doll” he smiled, slipping his hand out of yours and placing it softly under your chin, tilting your head so you could look at him. Your watery eyes met his baby blue ones, you swore they sparkled slightly.

“don’t worry your pretty head doll, we still have forever to be happy” he smiled, leaning in slightly. Bucky stopped centimeters away from your lips, your heart racing at his actions, you wanted nothing more than to kiss him.

“may i?” He whispered. You didn’t reply, instead you crashed your lips onto him. It was needy and rough, your teeth hitting each other at one point but you didn’t care. It felt like your heart were beating in sync, you felt whole.

You both pulled away, breathless before laughing lightly, your hair messy from his hands tugging at it. Bucky ran his hand through his hair, a charming smile on his face as you two regained your composure.

“if you kiss me like that again i don’t think I’ll let you go” you teased, heart heavy as he frowned slightly.

“what if i kiss you like this” he mumbled, softly placing his lips back onto yours. It was much gentler, softer and sweet. Your hand easily finding its way to his hair, fingers cascading through his soft hair. Bucky smiled into the kiss, giving you a soft peck before pulling away.

“you’re gonna be the death of me” you whispered, heart thumping in your ears. Bucky smiled at you sweetly, pulling you into his arms and holding you.

You wiggled a bit, laying your head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat, your eyes closing and falling asleep before you could even fight to stay awake.

Bucky woke you up at around 1 pm, shaking you gently. Your eyes opened slowly and you realized you were back in your bed, tucked in under your blanket.

“i waited a bit before bringing you back to bed, didn’t wanna wake you again” bucky smiled and you laughed, sitting up and yawning, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“i got some food for us, figured you’d be hungry” bucky spoke, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as you walked out of your room when you finished brushing your teeth and changing out of your pajamas.

You looked at bucky with a smile on your face, bounding over to him and tackling him with a hug, kissing his cheek. You silently thanked the universe for giving you bucky as your soulmate as the two of you talked while you ate.

Bucky had never felt so at ease, he wasn’t worried about someone kicking his door down or having to keep running. All he could focus on was the way you would smile anytime he laughed and the way you blushed when your eyes would meet.

The two of you spent the day together, cuddled up on the couch and watching a movie, just like you had seen the first time the two of you ever touched. You smiled to yourself while bucky focused on the movie, his hand mindlessly drawing circles on your arm as he held you. This was how it was meant to be, your soulmate by your side and the feeling of home.

But nothing ever seems to go as it should. By the time night came you were saying goodbye, both of you teary eyed as he held you tightly, not wanting to go but know he had to.

It had taken an hour to move from the couch to halfway to the door, both of you crying messes with soft giggles trying to cheer each other up.

Finally you had reached the door, both of you going through too many tissues and looking at each other with teary eyes and matching pink noses.

“before i go” bucky turned, pulling away from the handle and into his jacket pocket, you could hear the jingling of metal. “I want you to have these, until we can be together again” he smiled, holding out his dog tags.

You didn’t know what to say, tears flowing down your cheeks again as you looked at him. Bucky hugged you, letting you cry into his chest for a moment before you calmed down.

“are you sure buck? I mean they must mean so much to you” you looked at him and he smiled, nodding before easily putting them on you, his heart fluttering as he took in the sight of them on you.

“I’ll see you soon dollface” Bucky smiled, kissing your temple and you nodded, hands clutching his dog tags.

“see you soon lovebug, I’ll be waiting here for you” you smiled, loving the way he blushed at the new nickname.

When you found out about steve finding him in Romania you acted surprised, guilt washing over you for hiding the information from your friend but you knew it’s what bucky wanted.

You offered to go help him and Sam on the rescue mission but they stopped you, telling you it was best for you to stay out of this one. You wanted to argue but you couldn’t blame them, you had been a wreck after bucky left, barely sleeping and crying over your soulmate.

You didn’t expect the bombing at the UN, bucky being framed and the whole team falling out. You had been in New York the whole time, skipping out on the meeting with the accords because you just so happened to have the flu that week.

“oh yeah stay home i can’t afford you getting everyone sick” tony has spoken over the phone, hanging up on you, a frown on your face. Not ten minutes later did you get a notification saying food was being delivered to your house, nice warm soup along with some medicine to help you feel better.

You least expected steve flying you out to wakanda, eyes wide as you took in all the technology, heart thumping in your chest knowing bucky would be right around the corner.

You felt your heart stop as you saw him in a white tank top, running up to him and wrapping your arms around him. Your cheeks hurt from how much you were smiling and bucky held you tightly with his right arm, leaning into your touch.

“oh doll I’ve missed you so damn much” he mumbled, a smile on his face as the two of you held each other for the first time in months.

“missed you so much more james” you spoke breathless, pulling away before placing a gentle kiss on his lips, the two of you smiling and resting your foreheads against each other.

“y/n-” you pressed your lips to his, quieting him. Pulling away you looked at him with love in your eyes, heart racing as he smiled at you softly.

“Steve already told me” you explained, knowing how much it would pain him to tell you. Bucky nodded, his lips curling into a gentle smile as he looked at you. His eyes landed on the outline of his dog tags under your shirt.

“you still have ‘em on” he whispered his eyes soft and his heart melting as you nodded.

“I never take them off lovebug” you replied, holding his hand in your as he smiled up at you. Steve placed a hand on your shoulder signaling it was time.

You stepped away from bucky, his hand holding onto yours tighter, not wanting to let go. You made sure you kept his hand in yours, interlacing your fingers.

“You sure about this?” Steve spoke up and bucky nodded, a tight smile on his face as his eyes flickered between the two of you.

“i cant trust my own mind,” he chuckled dryly, “until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head i think going back under is the best thing” he looked at you with a soft smile, “for everybody.”

You squeezed his hand, nodding your head softly. “don’t worry lovebug, I’m yours forever” you whispered, a smile on your face as he recognized the phrase as the same on you had spoke to him in the flashes when you first touched.

“I’m yours forever, doll” Bucky spoke, kissing your temple before slipping his hand out of yours, and stepping into the machine.

You stood next to Steve as the machine whirred, looking away as it froze over. Steve put his arm around you, leading you away.

You held onto the memories you had made months ago in your apartment. You held onto the flashes you had gotten of the two of you having a picnic in the meadow, giggling with the sunset in the background.

You held onto bucky, your hope.

-

taglist !

@felicityofbakerstreet @newyork47 @classygirlything @ebxny27 @hhaydenn @miaangel24 @shawnie--jo @quinnmaddie @mugscraps @bucky-32557038 @marvelfansworld @hey-there-angels @buckys2thicc @groovyvalentine

[cdroloisms]

originally i just wanted dream to recover, preferably in the syndicate. but after today's quackity lore? he deserves to fuck shit up for a bit. let him get his revenge. tommy got his revenge on dream, techno got his revenge on l'manberg, dream deserves to get revenge on quackity and sam! then he can recover after that lol

(context: ask was sent on march 16th and i am very. very late.)

but YEAH !! logic brain says revenge bad and cycle of violence will continue BUT emotion brain wants c!dream to go crazy go stupid !! go beat them up honey we’ll be here with juice boxes and fruit snacks when you’re done <3 

i wrote this while looping casino royale by derivakat for (checks time) something like 12 hours straight so uhh,,, yeah LMAO have some of c!dream going apeshit bc honestly he deserves it (/hj)

tw: implied torture, abuse, mentioned injuries, suicide, murder, explosions, death, violence, dark portrayals of c!dream, c!quackity, and c!sam, emotional distress, prison arc, pandora’s vault

Sam is uneasy long before he enters Las Nevadas - Quackity’s terse, serious-sounding string of texts he’d woken up to had sent his heart racing before the country even came into sight, and he’s pretty sure the pit in the middle of his gut since Dream escaped a week ago won’t disappear until the prisoner is either jailed or dead at his feet. Still, the city hardly does his anxiety any favors - each step within its limits feels a bit more like walking to his own death, the silent storefronts and looming, boarded up casino seeming to watch his every move, making him pick up his pace to move a little faster and avoid their judging gazes.

Stuck in his head as he is, it’s not until he’s halfway to the meeting place that he realizes how eerily quiet the place is - Las Nevadas has yet to be a particularly busy country with the casino yet to open and their recruits usually doing their own thing in the meantime, but still there’s usually at least one of them lingering on the city grounds, between Fundy’s work on his yacht and Foolish’s construction and whatever Slime does, usually involving an immense amount of following Quackity’s every move. The city as it right now feels much more like when it had been no more than a secret of his and Quackity, months spent with just the two of them working to make Big Q’s vision a reality. There’s something uniquely unnerving about it, like stepping into a ghost town, and Sam’s unease only grows.

“Sam!” Quackity calls from the base of the casino - Sam shades his eyes from the sun as he jogs over. Even from this far, it’s clear Q is displeased - his lips are flat in a small frown, skin taut from where the corner of his mouth is pulling at his scar. His tie is slightly askew and shirt rumpled - he looks disheveled, eyebrows narrowed irritatedly as he taps at something on his communicator. Sam smiles slightly, hollow.

“Hello Quackity,” he responds simply, drawing his trident and bringing it to his side. “You said we needed to meet?”

“Yeah,” Quackity’s voice is distracted, and he mumbles a curse as he jams his finger particularly hard against the communicator screen. “What is up with everyone today? They sent me these- weird fucking messages  and then we get here and nobody’s here-”

“Who?” Sam’s lips press together. “You mean like- Fundy? Or Foolish?” They seem to be the ones that Quackity got messages from most frequently, if he remembers right. He doesn’t know for sure - usually, Quackity handles the social side of managing Las Nevadas.

“Fundy, Purpled, Foolish, Slime-” Quackity makes a vague, affronted noise. “All of them! Where the hell are they?”

Sam pauses.

“Q, when did Slime learn to use a communicator?”

“That’s the green one, right?” Both of them freeze, whirling around to the voice behind them, seeing nothing but the empty, arched doorway of the still-locked casino. “Naïve. Easy to fool.” The voice pauses, barks a sharp, quiet laugh. “Made my job easy, at least.”

The voice is familiar- too familiar. Sam doesn’t think he’ll ever get that cadence out of his head, not after months after months spent in the prison, hearing it in every possible tone and form. Quackity’s shoulders are hunched up to his ears, teeth bared in a snarl.

“Dream- I fucking swear- where the hell are you?”

“Aw, not so brave when the other person can actually fight back, are we?” Dream’s voice is lilting, mocking, and Sam’s hands tighten on the trident. “Fine, I’ll show myself. I’m not like you- no need to extend this game any longer than necessary.”

Dream slinks out from the shadows, wearing all black and covered in netherite armor, seeming fiddling with a small, grey thing in one hand. HIs stance is wide, torso pulled close to the ground - instead of a mask, his outfit includes a hooded black cloak that pulls down over his face, barely offering a glimpse of his eye glaring from underneath it.

“I’m giving you three seconds to tell me why the hell you’re in my country,” Quackity growls, sword forming in his hand, blade still crusted over with old blood, “And I’ll make your death half as painful as it’ll be otherwise.”

Dream laughs, high-pitched and unstable. “Please- what are you gonna do with that thing?” Quackity stalks forward with a low, wordless yell and Sam only barely manages to snag him back by the wrist.

“Watch it, Q,” Sam mutters, looking closer. Sure enough, there’s a faint, reddish haze rising from Dream’s body, only barely visible, interspersed with some lighter blue wisps. Strength and Speed. “He’s got potions.”

“Outmatched, aren’t we?” Dream cocks his head to the side, a tight-lipped smile visible under the hood’s shadow. “What a shame. I was hoping for a good fight.”

Quackity curses at him, loudly, but mullishly stays in place instead of lashing out like earlier, and Sam hisses a small sigh of relief. He looks back over at Dream - under the sun, he looks worse than ever, armor doing little to hide the gaunt edge of his face, limbs skinny and shaking. His hands tremble, wrists kept close together, as he continues to move the thing within them from hand to hand, small and grey and smooth from what he can tell in flashes between scarred and calloused fingers. He’s still favoring his left side slightly, but his eyes are cold and clear as they follow his every movement, clearly lucid and intelligent. Unfortunately for them, Dream is the best of fighters at the worst of times, and he has no doubt that with potions on his side and themselves relatively unprepared for battle, any fight with him won’t go particularly well.

Negotiation it is, then. “Why are you here, Dream?” If they stall long enough, then the rest of the server can come to back them up, and then even Dream won’t be able to fight back for long. He and Quackity can figure out what to do with him once he’s safely back under their control - for now, they have to play things safe. He pulls out his communicator carefully with one hand, trying to avoid drawing attention to his movements. “I doubt you’re here for a housewarming visit.”

Dream waves his hand slightly. “Something like that-” he bares his teeth in a small smile. “How about a housewarming gift, instead?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Quackity bites, aggressive in a way that speaks of how threatened he feels, and the pit in Sam’s stomach only grows. Dream’s eye seems to glow as he turns and presses his hands to the nearby wall; when he pulls them back, there’s a stone button fastened on the quartz.

“Say, Quackity,” Dream’s voice is too light to be anything but forced levity, rolling his shoulders back to try and hide the way his entire body has begun to shake even more violently than before. “How much TNT do you suppose it took for Wilbur to blow up L’manburg?”

Sam gasps, low and harsh through his teeth, a quiet, breathless no falling from his lips. Quackity’s head shakes, eyes widening in fury and denial.

“No- no what the fuck did you do- Dream what the absolute fuck did you do-”

“Eleven stacks of TNT, to blow up that country to kingdom come.” Dream laughs, directing his wild, manic expression to look them in the eye. “The amount of TNT hooked up to this thing is ten times that.”

“You’re a liar-” Quackity rushes forward, sword raised, “I’m going to fucking kill you-”

Sam grabs him, again, ignoring his yells to look at Dream, who’s still standing, seemingly unruffled, one hand hovering over the button that’ll spell doom for them all.

“That’ll kill all of us,” he tries to reason, panic clawing up his lungs, “You’re on your last life. You can’t-”

“And what, Warden, makes you think I give a single goddamn fuck about that?” Dream’s voice cracks, slightly, and for a moment Sam almost thinks he’ll break, that he can press the point until the other backs down - but Dream is nothing if not stubborn, and within seconds he’s composed himself again, looking at them with a determined set to his jaw that Sam recognizes well enough from Quackity’s visits to know that he won’t back down. “Everyone else is far away from here. I made sure of that. It’s just you, and Quackity, and me, and I’m pressing this button if it’s the last thing I do. Call it a parting shot, will you?”

Sam pulls at Quackity, wrist still locked in his grip. “Q, we have to leave.”

“I’m not letting him destroy this place Sam, are you out of your fucking mind? This- Las Nevadas- it’s everything- I’m not letting him take this place from me not again-”

“He’s going to kill us all, Quackity,” he throws a water bucket at his feet, charging up his trident. The sign taunts him at the edges of the city borders, far too far away for any of them to even hope to reach. “We have to go now-”

“Say your goodbyes,” Dream taunts, and there’s a quiet click. Sam smells the faint, smoky smell of redstone being activated, hears a hum growing in volume from the ground beneath him. He looks over to Dream, who has a hand pressing the button to the wall, fever-bright eyes wide and wet as he stares at his own hand before shutting them with a soft, almost serene smile. “And see you in hell.”

The world goes white.

[Dream was blown up by Dream.]

[Quackity was blown up by Dream.]

[awesamdude was blown up by Dream.]

[harrywritingsbyme]

Do you think you could write a piece about Harry and y/n having sex but she’s like really short and Harry is like throwing her around and just manhandling her and fucking destroying her guts but also make kinda fluffy pls😔👉👈

Welcome Home

Anonymous Said: Hi I’ve discovered this blog recently and can I please just take a moment to say Wow... you’re writing is amazing and your ideas and concepts are brilliant. I’m not sure if your taking requests or concepts but here’s an idea. SNL pilot Harry like with the grey hair and all coming home to his wife who misses him dearly after awhile followed by you know what. And if you could include size kink (I really liked that concept)

A/N: I’m so sorry it’s so late guys! Since I’ve been writing for a year now, I figured that I’d give an ‘Au’ a try. When I got this request, I was completely floored. Like holy shit, sexy ass older pilot!Harry, and small!Y/n. All of this is perfection and I love this so much! Enjoy🙃

4.7k words

Harry loved his job. He considered himself to be pretty lucky to have the ability to travel the world and see places he’d only dreamt of growing up. Even though he wasn’t in those places for an extended amount of time, simply being there was more than enough for Harry and it made him want to go back and explore. If he was lucky, he’d have multiple flights to the same place or longer layover in these But what Harry loved most about his job was the fact that he got to do it all with the love of his life. 

When you two first met, Harry’d been a pilot for some years and you were just hired for your job as a flight attendant. You knew that it wasn’t the most glamorous profession int the world, but you wanted to dip your toes into the pool of world travel, and this was the route you were taking to start. Before your first flight you’d asked around about the pilots for your flight and you were met with the same response each time. Everyone said that Harry was one of the nicest people in the world and was pretty good looking too, but his copilot was the person you were advised to try your best to avoid. Luckily, you only had to interact with Harry. Both you and Harry hated to say it and be all cliché, but from the moment you two laid eyes on and interacted with each other you both were hooked. Even though the both of you could’ve really used the entirety of your breaks to get some sleep, you and Harry couldn’t stop talking to each other. From that point on, the two of you became inseparable. During layovers that were more than just a couple hours and Harry had some spare time outside of his duties as pilot, the two of you would spend time together. You two were so caught up in each other and being together that you’d swap flights and breaks with the other flight attendants so that you and Harry could be together. And Harry did the same. He’d always put in a word with the people who made the schedules to ensure that he was flying the flights you were on or he’d try to get you on his flights. 

After constantly being on flights together and even running into each other during your times off, you and Harry were pretty convinced that you two should give a relationship a try. Even though there was a significant risk involved with starting a relationship with someone who was pretty much your boss and/or employee, you and Harry were willing to take that risk. And you two never looked back. In fact, disclosing you guys’ relationship made things way easier for you and Harry; you two were almost always on the same flights together. Now, you two are happily married and traveling the world together about 99% of the time. You both absolutely hated when the 1% times came around. You two became so used to being on the same flights that when you weren’t, you and Harry were a bit sad and even a little homesick believe it or not. This time unfortunately was Harry’s turn to fly without you. There wasn’t a moment on his trip that Harry didn’t miss you. He was focused on his job but he was still thinking about you. He was constantly wondering about what you were doing at home. When he took his break he just laid there and the cuddles and kisses he’d get if you were there with him. He also missed listening to your passenger horror stories and pushing you to just keep going. And on top of all that, Harry missed all the times you two would try to quietly go at it in the bathroom or crew resting area depending on whether or not you two were the only ones on break. Even though he was able to talk to you during his layover, he was counting the days and eventually hours until he came back home to you. As soon as he landed on the tarmac at the airport, Harry was on a mission to get home. After following all the necessary after flight procedure and filling out all of the necessary paperwork, Harry threw his bag into his car and sped home to you.

Surprisingly, Harry was able to get home and not get a ticket. He quickly pulls into the driveway and carries himself and his bag into the house. When he walks through the front door, Harry could immediately feel your presence. He could feel your warmth radiating through the entire house. All he had to do now as find you. Before checking upstairs, he makes his way around the main level of the house to look for you. As he exits the kitchen and makes his way down the hall, Harry could hear your soft hums getting louder and louder. When he reaches the laundry room, he sees you standing at the folding in the corner. Simply seeing you bought a big smile to his face. He then wastes no time coming over to you and wrapping his arms around your smaller body. 

“Honey I’m home.” Harry happily coos in your ear before pressing a soft kiss below it. When he does this, you turn around in his arms to get a better look at him. 

“Welcome home.” You whisper back to him, lifting yourself up onto your tips of your toes to bring your lips to his. As soon as your lips connect, the both of you release sighs of content. You two were back together. It doesn’t take long for Harry’s arms to tighten around your body and hoist you up onto the table behind you. The kiss lasts a little longer before you pull away from his lips. 

“How was your long haul without me?” You hum, sliding your hands up the lapels of his jacket.

“It was hell.” Harry says pointedly. 

“It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Was thinking about you the whole time.” Harry frowns a little at you to emphasize his point. 

“I missed you too baby.” You coo softly to him. You then reach up and pull the captains hat off of his head, sitting it down next to you before pushing your hands through his greying curls. When you two first met, he had some grey hairs here and there. But now they had taken over just about all of his head; and you were very into it. “Any annoying kids or weird old ladies?” You ask him. 

 “For the kids, I wouldn’t know. I like to stay in the front of the plane or the crew area.” Harry begins truthfully. “But as for the old ladies, they always want to break off a piece of this.” He continues smugly.

“Why would they want you? Do they wanna swap arthritis creams or something?” You joke with a laugh, watching his face fall in the process. 

“I will have you know that I’m considered a silver fox. And you know it.” Harry defends, slightly tilting his head up away from you. When he says this all you could do was pucker your lips and bite the inside of them because what he said was in fact true. You just couldn’t let him know that. “Now what’d you get into while I was gone?” Harry asks curiously with a smirk from his previous victory. 

“Did some stuff around the house and I did a little missing you retail therapy.” You reply happily. 

“So I take it that the credit card bill this month is gonna be a little higher than normal?” Harry asks suspiciously. 

“Just a little.” You whisper trying to undermine your shopping spree. 

“A little?” Harry asks you again, already knowing that you’re undermining how much you actually spent. 

“Mhm.” You mumble, nodding your head sweetly in the process. 

“You’re too cute and pretty for your own good.” Harry chuckles and shakes his head down at you. 

“You love it though.” You hum happily up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“I do.” Harry sighs contently. This is what he missed. He missed being in your arms and just loving on you. He loved seeing your smile and feeing your small arms wrap around him. “I actually bought you a couple things.” Harry whispers, tightening his grip around your back. 

“Is it more skimpy lingerie?” You question him, making sure to spread a wide smirk across your face. Instead of readily replying to you, Harry simply unwraps one of his arms from around your back and he brings it up to the front of your dress. Since the front of your dress was loosely wrapped around your body to keep it closed, Harry as able to simply pluck back the top a little to get a good look at your body beneath the fabric. 

“Well I guess this is my cue to stop buying the lingerie, since you’re not even wearing it.” Harry points out, looking down into your dress to find your bare, supple breasts resting on your chest. It took a lot of self control for Harry in that moment to not stick his hand down your dress to take your plushy flesh into his hand.

“Well I thought it was for our sexy times or when I send you pictures while you’re on a trip and on your break or stuck in a hotel room without me.” You explain to him. You even throw in a little pout; you wanted to keep your fancy and very pretty lingerie flow going. “But I am wearing one of the pairs of  panties you picked up in Italy if you wanna see how some of your purchases look on me.” You whisper lowly to him. You then use your arms that are hooked around his neck to pull his head down closer to yours. Harry was already a bit hard from finally being home with you. Now he was getting even harder from your words. 

“Is it bad that I’ve only been home for 20 minuets and I’m already thinking about completely ravishing you?” Harry mumbles against your pillow soft lips. “Just so pretty baby.” Harry grumbles frustratedly before bringing his mouth the rest of the way to yours while pulling you closer to the edge of the table. He couldn’t believe that he, a man who turned 40 a couple months prior, was getting all riled up and turned on the same way he did 20 plus years ago. That was just the age defying effect you had on him. 

“No, not at all.” You begin as you pull away from the short lived yet beyond passionate kiss, slowly bringing your left hand up the back of his neck to his hair. “In fact, every time I see you in your head to toe pilots get up, I’m always fighting the strong urge to fall to my knees and take your cock down my throat.” You bluntly continue, your voice filled with a very nonchalant and teasing tone. 

When this statement left your mouth, Harry was a little bit taken aback. But at the same time he wasn’t. After slowly building up your friendship that in no time blossomed into a more romantic relationship together, Harry was able to slowly show you the ropes so to speak and teach you just about everything you knew when it came to the bedroom and a happy and healthy relationship. When you two progressed to the more intimate stage of your budding relationship, you were pretty inexperienced. You didn’t know your way around the bedroom at all. You we’re still a virgin and you didn’t even know the ins and outs of making out with someone. All you knew was that this smart, extremely kind, absolutely gorgeous, and just overall stunning human being, older man who just so happened to be the pilot on your flight had taken a strong interest in you. And luckily for you, your lack of experience was the least of his concerns. It was like you hit the jackpot with him. Fast forward to now when you two are a married couple, you’ve taken all of the tips and tricks he’s taught over time and you’re running with it. Harry wasn’t the only who had the ability to do things to your body that would make your toes to curl, your entire body to go numb, and cause your mind to deem it all indescribable. You also had the ability to turn Harry into a pleasured, borderline incoherent, and moaning mess; something that most women in his past who were his age or slightly older weren’t even able to do. So it wasn’t a complete surprise that those words came from your mouth.

“Who knew that my pretty little wife had such a filthy mouth.” Harry gasps with a condescending tone.

“Well I’m not a prudish old man like you.” You simply reply. This was the button in Harry that you loved to push. 

“I don’t know where you’re getting that from but I’m far from prudish and I’m definitely not an old man.” Harry says matter of factly. “If I remember it correctly, I made you wear vibrating panties for the entirety of an 18 hour flight.” Harry recalls, making his point against being called prudish. 

“Everyone uses those. Especially older men.” You smugly whisper back, pushing even harder on this button of his. 

Harry knew exactly what you were doing. He knew that you were pushing his button so that he’d unleash everything he had built up over the course of his trip into you. It didn’t take much for him to realize that you wanted him to really make up for not being with you for almost a week. The both of you were itching to feel and be around each other again. After you and Harry made it past the learning and teaching phase of you guys’ sex life, the two of you acquired a constant hunger for one another. When you and Harry had some time off, the sex would be nonstop. Whether it was cockwarming or full on sex where you’re riding his cock or he was slamming himself deep into your pussy, you and Harry were always looking for ways to be around each other like this. And it was exactly the same when you two were on the job. Even though you two didn’t have the freedom to go at it whenever you wanted, you and Harry still found ways to be with each other. For some reason, seeing each other dressed in your uniforms was a bit of a turn on. It didn’t help that the both of you were borderline thrill seekers and loved the rush that came along with trying to be quiet as you both were experiencing some of the best pleasure you’d ever felt.

“Well do all older men pound and shove their cocks into their girlfriends, and now wives tight little cunts over and over again until she’s begging and crying for him to slow down and let them cum? Because if not, I’ve got countless stories about me doing that to you in the cramped bathroom on a flight, in restaurant bathrooms, dressing rooms, upstairs, on the couch, the kitchen counter, right here on this table, and many other places.” Even though you acted confident and enjoyed battling Harry for dominance, you were able to easily fall into a more submissive role. The way he’s calmly able to say the filthiest things made your body quake and your panties become even more soaked than they already were. You were never going to be able to forget about all of those times. How and why would you ever forget the times where he’s hoisted you up against a door or a wall, or pushed you down against the counter, tightly wrapped a hand around your mouth to keep you quiet, and deliciously slammed his cock up into you? If you focused in on those memories, you could remember and almost feel him inside you.

That’s what you wanted right now. You wanted him to pound into you so hard that you’d a sore, moaning mess and you wanted to make up for the time you two weren’t together. This was the first time in a good while that you weren’t scheduled for a flight with Harry and you really missed him. And his cock. So if you had to push one of his buttons to really get what you both wanted, you were going to do it. 

“Well I think you guys can do that,” You begin, pausing to run your hands down from his neck and across the expanse of his broad shoulders. “I just think that you may need a little help if you know what I mean.” You finish. When you say this, Harry knows exactly what you were implying and he wasn’t having any of it. 

“You and this pretty little body of yours is gonna get it.” Harry growls before yanking you up from the table and pulling you into his body. He quietly marches you both up the stairs and to your shared bedroom. When he reaches the foot of the bed, he releases his once tight grip on your body and drops you down onto the bed. He continues to go about everything silently, shoving his jacket off of his shoulders and working on his tie and shirt.

“You look really hot in that uniform just so you know.” You admire from the bed below him. You watch him chuckle at your statement as he shrugs his shirt and undone tie off his body. You were really turned on right now. Like the sight of his bare, toned and tattooed chest and arms was a sight you could stare at forever. Add onto that the fact that he was mad and taking control over you and you were setup to be a complete mess. And your panties could definitely attest to that. You were completely drenched and dying to feel him against and inside you. 

“You don’t have to butter me up baby.” Harry begins as he undoes his shoes. “M’still gonna take care of you and that smart mouth of yours.” Harry guarantees, shoving his shoes and socks off his feet and standing back up to work on his pants. “Gonna make sure you know what I can do to you.” Harry finishes, finally undoing his belt and shoving his pants along with his boxers down his legs. When you see his thick and very hard cock, you couldn’t stop a moan or two from escaping your mouth. “I take it someone needs my cock.” Harry chuckles at your desperation for his cock. He planned on showing you just how much you needed him. He then comes closer to the edge of the bed and in one swift motion, Harry pulls you up from your lying position and flips you onto your front. He masterfully undoes the tie on the back of your dress and he flips you back onto your back. He tugs at the fabric, opening your dress and exposing your partially naked body to him. He takes a moment to admire your body and all he could do is bite his lip. He couldn’t believe that he managed to be away from this for nearly an entire week. 

Harry quickly snaps out of his trance when he feels his cock twitch slightly and he leans down to scoop you up into his arms. When he does this, Harry keeps you low in his grip so that you’d be right against his cock. He keeps one arm securely around your body and pulls your arms from the dress. Once it’s completely off of you, he drops it into the pile of his clothes and drops you back onto the bed. Before crawling up and on top of you, Harry uses your claves to push you a little higher up onto the bed and to flip you back onto your stomach. When he does this, you really know you’re in for it. Whenever you were in this position Harry really made sure to slam into you and make you scream. When he crawls up and is on top of you from behind, he wastes no time in ripping the barely there panties off your body. For the first time in what felt like forever, Harry didn’t snap the delicate undergarment in half. Once they’re out of the way, Harry has complete access to your body.

“Gonna be a good girl and take daddy’s cock?” Harry asks, squeezing the flesh of your ass before raising it up just to crash it back down.

“Mhm.” You whimper, really feeling the sting from the sudden slap.

“Use your words.” Harry demands, raising his hand back up to deliver another slap to your backside. 

“Yes daddy.” You cry out to him, this time feeling not only the sting of his slaps but also feeling of your juices dripping onto the sheets.

“Good girl.” Harry hums at your response. He then straddles your thighs, wanting to keep you in place when he pushes into you. He lifts himself up so that he’s hovering over you, and he grips onto his cock to give himself a good squeeze, resulting in him letting out a loud grumble behind you (that went straight to your clit). He tightly grips onto the flesh of one of your cheeks and he pulls your ass apart to get a better view of you. When he sees your puckered hole, Harry gets a little idea. In the process of lining himself up with your entrance, Harry uses his cock to put a little pressure on your tighter hole. When he does this, words begin to pour out of your mouth. 

“M’too tight daddy.” You rush out to him, trying to stop his actions. Harry knew that you were too tight for him at the moment, but he just liked to work you up a little and hear you beg.

“Don’t worry baby. When were done, daddy’s gonna get you nice and ready for his cock.” He promises, lowering his cock from your second hole down to the first. When you feel his thick head nudging at your entrance, your moans got louder. You needed him to be inside you already. 

“Want your big cock daddy.” You beg. You try to move back against him but he’s practically sitting on your thighs, which is pinning you to the bed. 

“Whats the magic word?” Harry teases.

“Please daddy?” And with that, Harry is finally sinking his cock into you. When you feel his cock stretching you to fit all of him, your mind goes blank. All you could come up with was strings of loud moans and feeling good. You felt full agains which was all you really wanted. As he continues to sheath his cock with your walls, Harry’s hand leaves his shaft and goes right to your other cheek. He pulls your ass completely apart and watches as his cock disappears into you.

“That’s it, take this cock sweetheart.” Harry pants in amazement. He was still in awe at how a small woman like you was able to take every last inch of his manhood. Once he’s fully inside, Harry’s eyes trail up your body to find you resting your cheek against the sheets with your mouth wide open. Thats what he wanted to see. Keeping his hands on your ass, Harry lifts himself up so that he’s hovering over you and goes straight into slamming in and out of your tight and very wet pussy. As he does this, your entire body quakes at the amazing sensation of him fucking you. Feeling him pound into your stomach as he called you his sweet girl and his pretty little wife was beyond extraordinary. You could feel the familiar tight and warm knot beginning to form in the pit of your stomach already.

As Harry fucks into you, he’s beyond turned on. The way you’re pinned below him as he shoves his cock deep into you along with you pitifully whimpering, moaning, and crying at how good he felt was really doing things to Harry. He never wanted to be away from you ever again. He wanted to feel you every single day.

After fucking into you from behind for a good while and feeling the tight burning sensation forming in the pit of his stomach as well, Harry figures that he’s going to cum soon and he wants to watch your face twist as he does. He then proceeds to stop thrusting all together and pull out of you, which causes you to grumble, resulting in you receiving a hard “shut up” slap to your ass. He then gets lifts himself off of you and flips tugs you onto your back. He knocks your legs apart and gets in between them before slamming his cock back into you.

“Like this baby. Like it when daddy takes control of this tight little cunt of yours?” He pants, continuing to slam his his cock into you. You were too caught up in how good he was making you feel that you couldn’t even form a worded response. All you could do was thrash your head against the bed in agreement. When he sees this, a very wide smirk rises to his face. This is exactly what he missed and wanted to see. You taking all of his cock while you’re quivering and barely holding on. As he continues, Harry can feel the warmth from the pit of his stomach spreading to his entire body, signifying to him that his release was getting extremely close. Judging by the way your once tight grip on the sheets has gone loose, your pitiful whimpers, and the way you’re tightening up around him you’re feeling the exact same way. To make you cum around his cock, with him following right behind you Harry only has to do two things. First, he brings his palm to your lower stomach and presses it into you; putting pressure on the warm knot that was about to explode and allowing him to feel his cock moving inside you. He then comes down, bringing his mouth to your ear to whisper one thing into your ear. “Not too bad for an old man right?” Harry hums patronizingly into your ear. He wanted you to eat your words. And you were. His words, the pressure from his hand, and his cock causes you to burst at the seams around him. You let out a mixture of gasps and whimpers as you completely let go around Harry’s cock. When he feels your walls contracting around him, Harry lets go as well. He releases every last drop of the sexual frustration he’d been carrying around all week; and it felt so good. He loved painting your walls with his cum.

Once the both of you are done and it’s safe to pull out, Harry’s slowly pulls his sopping wet cock from your cunt and collapses onto the bed next to you. 

“Harry, I can’t feel my legs.” You whimper after a couple minuets of silence. 

“M’surprised you’re not used to it by now.” Harry hums smugly. Once he says this, a temporary lull fell over you two. You and Harry were very anxious to go at it again, but you two were holding off to see who would initiate round two. 

“Did you take something before you came in the house?” You whisper over to him, deciding that you needed to be the one to initiate round two.

“Do I need to come over there and shove my cock down that pretty throat of yours for you to get the point?” Harry chuckles at your persistence. 

“Only if you want to.” You whisper sweetly. 

“Oh I want to, and don’t you doubt that.” Harry says matter of factly. 

“Well can we cuddle first? Haven’t cuddled since the night before you left.”

“Anything you want.” Harry coos before moving closer to your limp body. 

Masterlist

[momoshin]

handle it — ryujin and yeji.

usually it wasn’t like this. usually yeji was too subby to start, or ryujin was patient enough to watch for a round or two. but today. they were getting on your nerves. you dressed up in pretty lingerie for them, waited all noon for your girlfriends to come home and even made sure to let them know you would be extra good for them tonight, yet they still found something to bicker over.

“you topped us last time” you’re laying in bed. ignoring the two of them as yeji runs behind ryujin who’s fishing out her own strap while ignoring your older girlfriend, you look too good for this shit.

“okay and?” she looks at the redhead, brows raised challenging her to say anything else as she takes off her heels and starts unbuttoning her pants.

“w-“

“i’m getting turned off” you interrupt their bickering from bed, hands crossed at your stomach for emphasis. “can’t i just take you both?” the two of them stare at you like you’ve grown a third eye

“i dunno. can you?” ryujin crosses her arms and stares at you. finally finding the peace necessary to drink you in. the way the color lace sat on your skin beautifully. and how you were laying pretty just for them. she can’t believe they’ve spent all this time arguing instead of making you feel good.

“i think i can handle it” it doesn’t take long after hearing the seductive tone in your voice for yeji to climb into bed, barely getting to kick off her shoes before she’s smashing her lips into yours, immediately making her way to your cheeks just as your hands found their way to her waist. you don’t realize you’ve been kissing for so long, until ryujin joins the two of you in bed, only in her underwear.

yeji takes this as a chance to get undressed herself, and you find your lips soon locked with the blonde girl on the bed. she slowly laid you back down on the bed. lips still on yours as your tongues now danced together and you tasted each other. a moan softly slipped out your lips and into hers as she moves in between your legs and presses herself against your center, so much that you can feel the toy attached to her graze against your clothed crotch.

“how do you want me baby?” yeji’s soft voice brings you back to reality as ryujin travels kisses all across your body. the older girl is kneeling on the bed, bare and stripped in front of you, letting you have a complete view of her body. she blushes at the way you smile and bite your bottom lip, extending your arms at her so she would get the hint.

it doesn’t take long for it to click in her brain as she positions herself with each leg to the sides of your head, her core so close yet so far from your lips. she’s facing ryujin, who’s fingers have started to trace circular motions on your clit, already having pulled the lace underwear to the side. she’s still being pretty gentle, so it’s not difficult to press kisses to the inside of yeji’s thighs before her clit. watching her body stutter on top of you is truly worth the wait and the bickering you had to go through to be in this position.

“doesn’t she look so pretty baby? princess dressed up for us” your moans increase against yeji’s cunt as ryujin softly eases inside you, the girl on your face gasping at both the sight and the feeling of vibrations on her clit. when she manages to pull herself together, she nods at the blonde’s question and drags her hand down your torso. squeezing your sides here and there.

“so pretty” she sighs “and all ours. right angel?” her fingers tickle your sides, and your affirming hum against her clit does the same to her as she jolts up and for a second detaches herself from your mouth. ryujin watches as she thrusts at a steady, teasing pace before the hand that isn’t on you tangles into yeji’s bright hair to bring her closer to her mouth.

they kiss on top of you and the bit that you can see, is intense. it’s crazy how ryujin can make yeji melt and immediately submit to her with just a kiss. her tongue swirling with the older girl’s somehow entrancing her. but you couldn’t blame her. instead, you pull yeji’s hips lower on your face because she’s too far away for your liking.

“ride her face baby” ryujin’s voice sounds deeper as she orders your girlfriend around. and when she takes a second to think of what she’s been told to do, ryujin pushes her waist back and forward with one of her hands. making her gasp at the feeling of your tongue slightly deeper than before. “you like that don’t you princess? like her using you like this?”

you can’t bring yourself to answer, her hands on you and the toy inside you too much to handle along with yeji’s sweet moans as she rode your lips. so you’re forced to, because ryujin stops her hips altogether, providing you no pleasure until you answered.

“i can’t hear you.” her fingers tap the side of your torso, looking for some reaction from you. she’s pleased when you let go of yeji’s clit with a pop, murmuring a yes that was a little harder to understand than usual, but they both did. and soon, her hips resume just as you go back to licking yeji’s juices up. you can’t see it, but every time she thrusts, each one harder than the last, she looks into yeji’s eyes. her hand is squishing her cheeks together, and they’re so close face to face as yeji’s hips move in sync with hers.

yeji is so close to cumming, because she’s never lasted a lot with you, and because you haven’t stopped or teased nearly as much as ryujin has done to you. “you gonna cum babe?”

“mhm” as she answers her brows furrow because it just feels so good

“gonna cum all over her pretty face?”

“yes— yes oh my god” her words have that effect, specially when she’s looking you deep in the eyes, hand anywhere on your body squeezing and providing some sort of pain— just the right amount, that mixes with the pleasure. it leaves yeji shaking and trembling on top of you, and you don’t know what you like best, drowning in her juices, or how the sight has made ryujin faster and rougher as she pounds into your sweet cunt.

“fuck— you two look so pretty like this. my pretty angels” her breathed is ragged and it interrups her when she speaks. you can tell her mind is clouded by the two of you infront of her, so much so that she presses kisses (while somehow still thrusting into you) from the valley of yeji’s chest, to her stomach, until she reaches her mound, only then she switches to alternately taking your nipples in her mouth, which she’s managed to slip out of your pretty bralette.

your nails dig in yeji’s thighs, and when she steps off, you move them towards ryujin’s back, who’s wrapped her arms around you and is now holding you close as she mantains a speedy, deep thrust in you. lips pressing everywhere on your body.

“ah” your voices combine loudly. you moan because she bites down on your nipple, she moans because yeji has eased a finger into her dripping cunt from behind, spreading her cheeks so she could look at her digit disappear in and out of her cunt.

ryujin doesn’t need much to cum, not right now, when she’s seen you devour yeji’s pussy like you’ve been starved. not when she’s seen the way you clenched around her toy and press unclear murmurs into the redhead, she’s been wet, dripping, this entire time, and the way she backs her ass into yeji before bottoming out in you again proves that she’s close, so close that she can feel her body getting warmer by the second.

“how close are you baby?” before dating, ryujin wouldn’t bottom for anybody. but with yeji, and the way she touches her, the way she speaks all the words she wants to hear into her ear, she can’t help but giving in. she whines at the way yeji’s voice has changed from needy and soft to dark and dominant.

“so close. don’t stop. please” she’s so pretty like this. you enjoy the sight even tho you’re not the one causing her to be so vulnerable. but you enjoy the way her cheeks blush, the way she digs her face in your neck and nibbles softly, and the way her eyes are almost closed but she keeps them open to look at you and your half opened lips that spilled words and begs for her. “what about you princess, are you close?”

you settle for humming and nodding. tangling your hand in her hair to bring her lips to yours in a wet, needy kiss. the sounds your pussy makes whenever she thrusts grow wetter as you approach your release. you can feel it, almost touch it, but it’s shut down by yeji looking over ryujin’s shoulder. one hand on her neck and the other knuckle deep inside her.“don’t come yet. wait for daddy, yeah? can you do that for me baby?”

“i don’t know how much longer i can hold it” you’re so tense right now, your walls are clenching around the thick fake dick inside of you, your teeth digging into your bottom lip and your nails into the skin of ryujin’s back. you’re so close. you’re begging she is too.

“— cumming!” her voice makes the word sound broken and twisted as she coughs it out, and without thinking any further you let go. you let yourself cum hard, with the image of ryujin’s eyes squinted shut and yeji ruining her with her digits from behind.

[internalsealpanic]

For What It’s Worth

Summary: A deal with the devil goes smoothly. a/n:  As a joke, my co-writer suggested I post daddy kink fics on Father’s Day. Here’s Roman’s bwahahhahahahahahah. No further thought process was put into this. warnings: dub con, daddy kink, cockwarming, and infidelity/cheating

Masterlist

The men drag you into a lavish room. It's sleek with large glass windows and a wooden floor shined like mirrors. You think it's pretty but you can't help but think of how impractical it is to have such large windows until you consider how much money Roman Sionis has and how he'd probably spend it on bulletproof windows. You rub your arm as one of the men shoves you forward to face none other than Black Mask himself. You try to keep your posture straight which is made easier by the fact that the man refuses to even look up from his work.

"Boss, we found this woman lurking in the halls. She said she had some business with you."

"I- I work for the Maronis… Sort of.." You didn't lie about working for the Maronis but Sal Maroni wasn't in town and he certainly didn't have a message for Roman.  "But I'm not here for the Maronis today, Mr. Sionis. I'm here to ask for an extension for my husband's debt."

This gets Roman to look up from his paperwork. "How did you get past my security?" He says, scrutinizing. Your limbs are shaking. Maybe it would have been better if you could convince Mal to just skip town but that wasn't an option. Roman already had men looking for him.

You swallow in a vain attempt to steady your rapidly fraying nerves.  "I told them I was here to deliver a message from Salvatore Maroni and showed them proof," Your voice gets quieter as you speak, "that I forged." You clear your throat trying to wrestle up some bravado. "Anyway, I'm here to try and ask if you can extend my husband's debt."

Roman waves one of the men over. The man thrusts his hand out for the ID you'd shown him earlier and the supposed note from Maroni. They all look well made. They would probably be good enough to fool even a detective given you were able to clean them up a bit. Roman is quietly impressed but he's also annoyed that you had managed to sneak in and disturb his work.  "Who would that be?" He asks, not looking up from your work.

"His name is Mal... Mal (L/n)." Your husband has worked for Sionis even before you two were married before he came clean to you. He swears he'll get out of the life as soon as he manages to pay off this debt. He swore on his mother. Roman is looking at you, brow raised and mouth drawn into a flat line like he really can't remember who Mal is. How can he not remember someone his people are hunting down?

"He-- he runs drugs for you." Still nothing. "And he- he told me he owes you a large debt and that's why you've been sending men to find him for the last few days." You say in one long breath. You were exhausted just thinking about the false facers hanging around outside your home and the number of times they've harassed your neighbors for Mal's whereabouts.

"Oh yeah, him." Roman says, setting down the ID and resting his chin on intertwined fingers.

You dig your nails into your palms. It was uncomfortable the way he's sizing you up.

Roman looks away from you momentarily, focusing instead on his glove and what you assume is a spec of dust pinched between his fingers. "So what do you have to offer?"

You hold back a relieved breath and begin rifling through your bag.  "Well, we can offer our house as a collateral and there's also the shop and  maybe... the car but that may not be worth much..." You really didn't own anything substantial. Nothing that would interest a mob boss anyway and you didn't have any valuable information from working with the Maronis. But what you could do was beg. Men in power love nothing more than a reminder of their power and even with your meager possessions with enough honeyed words, you could buy your time. You just need to buy Mal sometime and you could work something out. "If we offer up more of our possessions as collateral we could- we could pay the debt off in a couple of years. Maybe a little more. Mal and I just need a bit more time."

A dark chuckle rises from Roman's chest at the hopeful look in your eyes. "You think you can pay that off in a couple of years? How much do you think your husband owes?"

You stop rummaging through your bag. Your head tilts up slowly to look at a grinning Roman. Nervously, you fidget with your ring as you rack your brain for the exact amount Mal told you. Was it a hundred grand or was it more? Did Mal even really tell you or did you come up with some reasonable number?

"Sweetheart, I asked you a question," Roman says with a snap of his fingers.

You flinch. "He- He told me it's only a couple hundred grand-"

Roman barks out a laugh that echoes in the room.  "Either your husband is stupider than I thought he was or... Do you think I would send men after him for chump change?" He says, voice rising with his temper.

"No..." You whimper shrinking in on yourself. Mal, what have you done?

He likes that sound. "Sweetheart, that husband of yours owes me 5 mil." Roman leans back in his chair to look at you. Not bad, he thinks. "Sir that- that can't be right..."

Oh, Roman definitely likes the way 'sir' rolls off your tongue. "You're right. It's technically 5.4."

You choke. Your stomach is hurtling to the ground with a splat.

Roman beckons you to come close. You're too dizzy and numb to disobey. You don't even react when Roman slides you into his lap or when he places a hand over one of your thighs. Your body reacts to his touch but your mind is still caught up in the numbers. How could you not have known Mal had so much debt? How could he hide it from you?

"Do you want to tell me I’m wrong again?" He asks, squeezing your thigh. You whimper. The simple touch and the gravelly voice in your ear was much more attention than what you'd gotten in months. You try to shush yourself but your breathing is already starting to get labored. Roman's lips quirk in amusement as he feels your body starting to tremble. "I can show you just exactly what he spent 5 million on if you’d like."

You really don't know if you want to but it's not like your input really matters at the moment. Roman snaps his fingers and one of the men in the room hands him a tablet. He grasps your chin with a firm hand to make sure you're paying attention. You try to wriggle out of it for a second but then give up, paying full attention to the numbers on the screen. "He spent an awful lot at one of my whore houses last month."

You go completely still at the words. You look hurt but nowhere on your face could Roman find any spec of surprise. He wouldn't doubt that this isn't the first time your husband strayed from you considering how much of his debt was spent there.

Your eyes go misty. Your body begins to tremble with barely contained anger. You try to breathe and calm yourself.   Digging your nails into your palms, you walk yourself through a breathing exercise. Mal told you it was the last time when you'd caught him for the second time.  He begged you on his knees for you to stay telling you that it was gonna be the last time.

Roman's hand slides up your inner thigh, inching your skirt up. "Did you know that’s what he spends his nights doing?" Your breath hitches you clamp your thighs together.

"I bet you’ve been so lonely haven’t you darling?" Roman whispers, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. He presses circles into your flesh. "Barely touched…barely kissed. Just waiting for your dearest husband to come home."  He nips at the spot behind your ear that makes you pull his shirt into a tight fist. Your head is hazy with a swirl of emotion but all you can concentrate on is the way Roman's touch is so firm against your body. "And here he is, at the Rosette Club." Roman places the tablet in your hands for you to see your husband standing impatiently at the front desk.

You let out a strained breath and your legs easing at his touch. Roman rewards you with a pleased hum. "It's funny," he says, inching your skirt up.  "The girl he requests the most has a passing resemblance to you. Wonder why he would bother paying  if he's got you at home begging for his cock." Roman brushes his lip against your neck. Your body reacts wonderfully to his actions, leaning back to give him space to do as he pleases.  Your warm body is so pliant to his touch and your voice is so sweet. "I can’t understand why he’d pass you up for another whore."

Roman's hand brushes the edge of your lace panties and he smirks. "Darling, did you wear those for me?" He toys with the fabric before stroking your clothed pussy, feeling the wet heat. "Would you like to hear my counteroffer?"

You nod, trying to keep quiet. You couldn't bear to look him in the eyes.  Roman grips your chin to force you to look at him. "I'm going to need you to be a good girl for me first." You swallow. "Are you going to be a good girl for me?"

You nod your head vigorously. It's hard to care about how eager you seem.

"Words, doll." Roman says coolly, yanking your head back by your hair.

"Yes- Yes, sir. I'll be good."

You just miss someone wanting you.

"Good,"He releases your hair. He grips your hip tightly as he starts undoing his belt. You suck in a sharp breath when his cock springs free.  Roman can see you staring which certainly inflates his ego.  "Sit on my cock and don't move until I tell you to, got it doll?" He says, stroking his cock.

You nod again, then quickly add: "Yes, sir."

You shift to face him, flicking your eyes towards the other men in the room. Roman snaps his finger. The men leave without a word. You're not stupid enough to think it's purely for your sake but you don't really think about it much as you push your underwear to the side.

"Good girl." Roman says, gripping the back of your neck as he guides you down onto his cock.

You cry out in short pants as you slide down his length. You feel your insides stretch for him. The veins of his cock hitting all the right spots. Roman grunts as your warmth swallows him down to the hilt. You let yourself adjust to his girth, grinding your hips against his.

Roman leans forward. You brace your hands against his shirt, waiting for him to pound into you... he doesn't. You open your eyes and watch Roman put on glasses and continue to work.

You squirm, trying to get him to move. Roman answers with a warning squeeze of your hip. "Now sit still sweetheart, I’ve got things I need to finish."

You pant heavily and wrap your arms around his neck sitting as still as possible.

Roman makes this incredibly difficult as he trails a hand up and down your spine and kneads your ass while he works.

You quietly breath daddy into his ear while he works in both desperation and retaliation.

Roman's patience is waning based on how hard he grips your flesh. It makes your skin heat and the coil in your stomach wind tighter. You squirm a bit trying to shift the angle just a little, just enough to hit the right spot.

"Sweetheart," he says in a warning tone, "what did I tell you?"

"I’m sorry daddy, I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable." You nuzzle your face into his neck breathing deeply. He smells like cigar smoke and whiskey.

Roman doesn’t have the heart to scold you since you're  behaving so well. "Are you always this good for your husband?" Roman sneers, squeezing your ass and moving your closer to him.

"Yes sir. I try to be." You're incredibly embarrassed considering the situation and trying so hard not to move your hips.

"You’re this well behaved and he doesn’t fuck you?" Roman grinds out as you squeeze around him.  "Then again, you are married to an idiot."

Roman tilts your chin to look at your face. Your husband really is an idiot, Roman thinks as he looks into your desperate, half-lidded expression.

"No wonder you were so touch starved," he says, starting to bounce you on his cock, "it’s a crime to leave a sweet ass like this untouched for months."

You let out a shaky breath as he continues the lazy pace, grinding his cock inside you in shallow strokes.

"Were you hoping he'd finally fuck you if your saved his skin?"

"Maybe." You whimper. You close your eyes, winding your arms tightly around his shoulders. You push your husband out of your mind and do your best to concentrate on the cock pulsing inside you. It was far too easy especially when he'd apparently pushed you out of his long before.  "I- I just miss being touched."

Roman brings his hand down on your ass and the slap rings out in the room. Your greedy hole strangles his cock. "Don't worry sweetheart, daddy will  take good care of you." He grinds out.

It's about another hour before Roman gets done both from being purposefully slow and being very distracted by all the little things your body does to let him know just how desperate you are.

Roman, finally done with his paperwork, runs his hand through his hair and leans back into his chair. That might have been the longest hour of his life. "Get off." He orders, brusquely. His patience was a hair's breadth from completely dissolving.

You whine and pout at him but use your shaky limbs to get off of Roman, moaning as his cock drags against your walls.

He can see the desire slick on your thighs. "Get on the desk and spread your legs for daddy." Roman says, loosening his tie.

He stands up and pushes you back onto the desk. You scoot back, careful not to disturb the paperwork much to Roman's amusement.  You spread open your legs wide, the bottom of your heels catching his legs.

You're so wet for him that you're dripping onto the desk. He looks into your debauched face and Roman's cock twitches in his hand. You would definitely make a killing at the Rosette Club. Roman pumps his cock as he watches you stroke your clit in time with his hand. You purr his name softly as you look at him with hooded eyes.

"Christ sweetheart, look at you. You're such a good little slut." Roman grinds out.

"Please, daddy."

"Put your fucking hand away." He growls.

You pull your hand away from your pussy and bring it to your lips. You lick up a long stripe, lapping up your own juices.

Oh, he is definitely keeping you for himself.

Roman pulls you closer to him and hooks your legs around his waist.

You wrap your arms around his neck. "Please daddy, I need you." You dig the bottom of your heels into his ass drawing out a sharp breath from him.

Roman kisses you, running his hands up and down your sides. You melt into the kiss consumed by the touches and passion you've missed for months.

He pulls back and tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, biting it before licking over it to soothe the sting. The head of Roman's cock teases your folds, parting them just slightly. Your hand finds its way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, and he goes readily, deepening the kiss.

Roman slides his cock back into you and you scream into the kiss. He fucks you recklessly into the wood of the desk. It screeches and scrapes against the wooden floor as his cock thrusts deep into your pussy.

Groping and claiming every part of you he can reach, Roman pulls back from the kiss. He yanks on your shirt, causing one of the buttons to pop off,  then sinks his teeth into your shoulder. You hiss his name, the stinging on your shoulder mixing with the pleasure.

"Tell me doll, has that husband of yours ever made you feel this good?"

"No, sir. Ah! He- He's never been able to- Ah! Satisfy me like this."

"That's right, baby. You'll only be hungry for Daddy's cock, won't you?"

"Yes, sir." You say in a breathy moan, dragging your nails across his neck.

Roman hisses a litany of curses in your ear as your pussy milks his cock, gripping him and making it harder for him to pull away. He pushes you flat on your back as he thrusts his cock deeper into you.

He bites your shoulder again. Your walls spasm around him. "You tighten so nicely around me when I do that." Roman hisses bites you again, then groans. "Christ, baby, just like that."

After a few more thrusts, you cum on Roman's cock with a pathetic little whimper. He empties himself inside you with a groan.

You lay on the table flat on your back, your breathing harsh.

Roman straightens himself out like nothing ever happened.  He sneers down at you. You look completely fucked out and hazy from your orgasm.

"You're going to work for me," he says. You sit up and nod as best you can.  Roman leans forward,  nibbling on your neck and caging you in with his hands. "And you're going to come to my office any time I ask."

"I-" You swallow down the raspiness of your voice and try to sound as pleasant as possible.  "Of course, sir."

Roman yanks your head to the side. "You’re such a good girl for daddy." He purrs, sucking a mark behind your ear. "Tell me the truth sweetheart, does that two-bit gangster even know you're here?"

You shake your head. This was your last resort plan after your contacts backed out of helping you get out of the city. You could easily create new identities for you and Mal but getting out of the cities without being hounded down by False Facers was an entire different problem. One you didn't have time or the resources to resolve. But somehow all that planning felt like it went to waste. Mal was never going to change for you.

"Mal  thinks I'm going to my boss to beg him for a loan."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because Mr. Maroni would never lend me the money if he knew what it was for. He thinks Mal is a waste of an investment..."

"You really are wasted on that husband of yours." Roman tuts, stroking the side of your face. You soak up the affection shamelessly. You know full well it's wrong to seek comfort in someone else especially someone like Roman but... you feel lonely and used and you just want someone that wants you so openly.

"Get dressed," Roman says, taking out his phone, "and get your things from that shit hole you call a house."

You open your mouth to ask him why and where but he cuts you off with an annoyed look.

"If you're going to be my pet, I can't wait an hour to fuck you."

Your cheeks heat up as you shuffle to get dressed. You look nice bent over and flushed, Roman thinks. Maybe he should bend you over his desk sometime. No point mulling it over now. He'll have time to think about it.

You quietly mutter a thank you sir before exiting the room with your legs awkwardly clamped together, your cute little cunt still filled to the brim with his seed.

It should take you about an hour to pack your things and get back to him. Maybe longer if that husband of yours begs you to stay. Well, Roman can eliminate that second possibility right away.

He opens his phone and sends a video with the message: "Your debt is paid."

If your husband is smart, he'll skip town.

If he's stupid, he'll rack up more debt.

If he's even stupider, he'll protest.

Either way, Roman has you and if you're as smart as he thinks you are, you'll be worth the 5.4 mil in and out of his bed. If you aren't and he gets bored, he could always just stick you in one of his whore houses and make a killing. There's no shortage of men with deep pockets who'd like to get their hands on a hussie like you.

It's all a win-win for Roman.

[koocycle]

play thing | drabble series (ii)

pairing. basketball player!jungkook x female reader

summary. jungkook is aware of the fact that you’re not his to love, yet he’s eager to show you what you’re missing out on. 

wc. 1578

warnings. explicit language, mild sexual themes.

taglist. if you’d like to be added, please send me an ask!

previous / next

The next time Jungkook encounters you, it is during his following training period.

He is embarrased to say that he hadn’t been expecting you to show up — not after you fled away the last time he had seen you, to say the least. He felt his chest tighten for you that day, yet he should’ve known way better than to believe in that simple act of chastity you put out for him prior to today.

It’s clear that you’re over that.

Because it had barely been a full week since that happened, yet it felt as if time was passing by tremendously slowly. Jungkook hadn’t heard a word from you; barely an effortless greeting in the hallways on campus, or even a facile glance his way during your shared lectures — however you shouldn’t have to worry. He knows that you don’t owe him a single thing, let alone a simple response to his text. He’s aware of the fact that you’re not his girlfriend, by any means — he figured you had better things to take care of.

Like that jerk of a boyfriend, for example.

Today you’re back on your usual spot on the bleachers though, on the front row just besides the messy stack of smelly duffle bags the boys had thrown around earlier. And whether that is because you’re here for him or for your boyfriend today, it doesn’t matter. He guesses he already knows the answer to that question he and doesn’t want to think about it. His head is feels heavy today, and he blames none other than you for it — he’s pissed.

Jungkook doesn’t want to make a fool out of himself and see things that aren’t as real as he would have liked, but he can feel your stare burning against his form as he plays, gazing down his every move. He’s barely able to concentrate when you put him under a microscope like this, and the only reason he refuses to look back at you is because he’s not willing to lose this silent game that the two of you are playing. It’s a tough game to play, and he’s having no fun in any of this, but he feels too sorry for himself to let you win.

It's not like he’d try to go and make a move to talk to you today. Especially not when you spent your week ignoring his texts before you continue to show up to his practices and proceed to eye fuck him to an obvious extend, as if you own the damn place. And just to clarify; you don’t.

And he swears he doesn’t care, however once he sees Minho making his way over to you the second his coach calls out for a ten-minute break, his throat goes dry. Jungkook follows him anyway, and he promises himself that it’s only for his heavy duffle bag which happens to sit next to you, but both of you know better than that.

You’re standing in place once Jungkook arrives at the spot, caged in your boyfriend’s arms.

‘‘You look hot,’’ he grins smugly, ‘‘Did you get dressed up like this for me?” Minho’s hands reach down lower, reaching for your ass. And Jungkook can’t help but to side-eye the scene as he takes a rather large sip from his water bottle. Swallowing it down his throat with a lot of effort.

He should walk away now that he’s gotten his bottle, but he instead falls down on the bench with a heavy huff leaving him, forearms resting on his knees as he decides to stick around for a bit longer.

You don’t properly answer your boyfriend, you only nod your head with an unconvincing smile on your face. And Jungkook needs to hold himself back before the vile grin appears on his face, because he knows why you’re here.  He knows and you didn’t even have to tell him – he’s convinced he sees right through you. And with the swift glances you’re shooting at him when you’re still in your boyfriend’s arms, you tell him everything he already figured out on his own.

‘‘I need you to stay here for me, okay?’’ Minho tells you soon enough, eyebrows shooting up his forehead as if you’re a pup waiting for his directions. ‘‘I’ll be right back.’’

‘‘Okay.’’ You answer him sweetly, disregarded by your boyfriend once his friends call him over soon enough.

It’s barely been a second after Minho has left you alone when Jungkook can already see you making your way over to him in the corner of his eyes, but he won’t budge – he refuses to. The least thing he wants to give you is the unbearable feeling of satisfaction that will only feed on to your massive ego. You don’t deserve that kind of power over him, he thinks. Especially not when you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

So instead of giving you the attention you’re seeking for, he’s pursing his lips in an annoyed manner and allowing his sweaty strands to fall in his face.

‘‘All good, Guk?’’ Your voice is sweet before you take place next to him, the sound of the soles of your shoes on the gym floor being all he’s trying to focus on.

Fuck. You even smell good. ‘‘I’m fine, thanks.’’

A funny silence hangs in in the air, and he figures that is because you’re trying to figure out what’s going on with him. Could he be.. mad? You’re so clueless and he swears he finds it funny, yet it’s hard to laugh over it when he’s the receiving end of your dense self.

‘‘Jungkook,’’ you whine besides him, the pleading tone that’s hidden so sneakily in your voice makes him freeze on the spot. ‘‘Look at me?’’

The guy swore he didn’t care before, nor would he invest in your dirty little games for the love of God himself, but the way his head snaps over to you once these words leave your pretty lips shows you the tiny amount of self-control he still owns.

He’s slowly, yet dangerously running out each time you’re close to him, and he knows he’s not the one to blame.

‘‘Why are you mad at me?’’ You pout, looking up at him from beneath your pretty eyelashes.

Now Jungkook sees what Minho was talking about earlier. You do look hot.

He’s been so pulled into your games just earlier, so competitive to not be the weak sheep in today’s play between the two of you – he’s been too worked up to take a good look at you. And man, that was a huge mistake.

The fabric of your skirt is rising up your thighs, tight against the thin, see-through layer of panties wrapped so deliciously around your pretty legs. He could slip his finger under the stretched material of your skirt and get a glimpse of your panties, he’s sure of it. But oh, what he’d do to see your legs wrapped around his waist some day ..

And no, this skirt is unlike the last dress he’s seen you in – this one has nothing to do with your previous fashionable choice of clothing. Nothing to do with the pretty, patterned knee-length dresses you’ve worn before. Today you came to his practice with a different motive, and to say you look merciless, would be bit more accurate for a day like this.

‘‘I’m not mad.’’ He’s keeping his answer short for a reason, and you’re aware of that. You had already caught him looking down at your lap just now, right before he swallowed his thick saliva down his throat and cut off eye contact with you at all.

‘‘No?’’ You ask sweetly, scooping closer into his side until your knees patently meet, making him look down, once again. ‘‘Then why are you ignoring me, Kook? It makes me feel bad.’’

When your hand reaches out to rest just above his bare knee, right at the spot where the fabric of his shorts come to a stop, he immediately tenses up and you can hear the slight puff that leaves his lips.

God, he wants to fuck you.

‘‘Did I do something wrong?’’ Your hand reaches up just a little higher, fingertips hidden under the edges of his shorts, ‘‘you should tell me if I did.’’ You say, your voice innocently continuing on whilst your bright blue painted nails are softly scraping against the skin of his inner thigh by now, something a little naughtier than it may look like from an outside perspective. He’s utterly losing his mind once you start massaging the sore muscles hidden under your warm palms — kneading the firm flesh in your hand.

Where the fuck is Minho when you need him?

You nearly jump off your seat on the bench when his larger hand covers yours, you’re surprised he doesn’t remove them from the warm spot on his thigh, yet you feel the desperation in his grip. ‘‘Why the fuck are you here?’’ He snarls, his temper increasing.

‘’What–’’

‘‘Why are you here, ___?” Jungkook repeats himself, clearly affected under your touch. ‘‘I doubt you came here for your little boyfriend who isn’t even here right now.’’

He’s so close to you, and he knows it’s starting to have an effect on you. You suddenly look a little less confident under his gaze, especially with his grip on your hand that’s only tightening with each second of silence passing by. Yet he doesn’t have the heart to feel bad for you right now, you’ve brought this on to yourself.

‘‘What? Cat got your tongue?’’ He snickers when you don’t answer his question, unable to think of a logical response right now. You already know that he knows – there’s no need for you to lie. Thus, he ends up one point ahead of you; claiming his victory with a cocky tilt of his head. ‘‘I don’t know what game you’re playing here, love, but I’d love to accept the challenge.’’

May the games begin.

— taglist; @jinsalpaca

[wastelandcth]

Red Desert Ridge - cth x afi

part one: the cantina

summary: A cowboy walks into a bar on Friday and orders a drink. 

author’s notes: Welcome to my new mini series! This is a Cashton x reader fic that I’ve been planning for the longest time! Thanks to @in-superbloom and @hoodhoran for letting me scream about this and letting me run ideas by them both. I’m also posting this while I’m taking a very important test so please if I don’t respond right away it’s because my brain is melting over optical terms!

warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex. 

masterlist || request || series masterlist

Calum watched as the clouds floating by in the sky, the mix of pink and purple fluff that drifted away with the soft breeze a great distraction from the amount of time he'd spent already waiting for the inevitable. The small town that he'd found himself in was nothing more than a long stretch of road lined with shops and a couple of cantinas, the locals of the town passing no more than a glance at him as he'd strolled in on top of his horse. Duke, his prized horse, and really the only other being on Earth that he trusted besides himself, had huffed and whinnied quietly as Calum had led him through the dusty street, snorting in relief when he was finally left in front of a watering hole and promptly ignoring anything Calum did after. Calum had spent the early hours of his day traveling through the dry desert, hoping and wishing that the next few hours would find the end to all his problems. 

But then like a light at the end of the tunnel, Duke’s hooves knocked against the wooden floors of the entrance to a town, bringing Calum’s attention back from the clouds and towards the small town that would bring him answers, or at least that’s what he hoped. His feet found solid ground soon enough and Duke had been left near the water trough. As the sun set on the horizon, letting the pink sky and filter in with oranges and purples, Calum strolled through the town, the spurs on his boots ringing with every step he took on the wooden floorboards. He could feel the eyes of the town on him, the faded green bandana that covered his nose and mouth shielding his face from peering eyes, and it wasn't until he stepped into the crowded cantina that he let the fabric slip down his face and around his neck.

Calum's eyes searched the crowd of people, ranging anywhere from farmers who'd stumbled in after working on the fields all day to the local drunk who seemed to never walk out of the place. The cantina was filled with music and conversation flowing freely around the stucco walls, that was until Calum stepped over the threshold and all eyes were on him. Whispers rang out over the quieted music and Calum couldn't help the smirk on his face as he felt the attention on him. His feet carried him towards the bar, his gait slow and confident as he leaned against the wooden slab that had been sticky with spilled drinks and other substances Calum wasn't sure he wanted to find out about. His hat tipped towards the bartender, who'd been busy serving up shots of clear alcohol and had been the only one in the building to not stop and stare.

"Can I help you, fella?" the bartender finally asked as he walked over, swiping the off-white cloth over the countertop before throwing it over his shoulder to finally study Calum, "Or just traveling through and need a drink?"

The bartender, who Calum assumed was closer to his age and maybe even a little too young to be running a cantina was a tall blonde. His hair was hidden under the black hat that he wore, golden curls peeking out beneath it and sitting just above his shoulders, and Calum found himself smirking at the man's nervous expression. His hands fiddled with the glass in his hand, his head cocking to the side as he waiting for Calum's answer and his eyes kept shifting between Calum's figure and the patrons around them. If Calum hadn't known any better, he would've guessed that the small town saw only a fair share of travelers a year and he'd be the talk of the town in no time.

"Actually, I'm looking for a place to stay," Calum shrugged, pointing over to a bottle of whiskey as he took another glance around the crowded cantina, "Know of any?"

"Oh," the blonde sighed and shrugged, "We usually have a few rooms but if you're looking for a good time," he said and served up the liquor, sliding the glass over to Calum, "The inn down the way charges a pretty fair price and the ladies are always accommodating."

"Luke!" a deep voice called out from behind the blonde, "What did I tell you about sending people that way," the man huffed out, his hand coming over to smack the back of Luke's head, "We would be more than happy to host this traveler in our spacious rooms upstairs!"

The blonde, who Calum was now assuming was Luke, grumbled under his breath and nodded. With one last look at the man who'd smacked his head and then shoved him away from Calum, he rolled his eyes and walked off to check on the rest of the patrons. Calum noticed that Luke had drifted towards another patron of the cantina, whose hair was hidden beneath the brow of a leather hat and kept the shade away from his eyes, whispering something in his ear and making the man glance over at Calum and then back at Luke with a small nod.

 "Sorry about him, he's my son," the man sighed and shook his head, "I've been trying to teach him how things work down here but he's too focused on his dreams of going to the big cities or talking to Michael who will only get him in trouble," he scoffed, "Now about your room and board..."

Calum looked around the cantina, listening to the conversations around him as he nodded in agreement to whatever the man behind the bar rambled on about. Something about extended stays and breakfast every morning with his family. Calum watched the patrons around him, letting himself lean against the wooden bar as he tried to seem in the conversation about the locals and things to do that Luke's father kept rambling on about. His eyes landed on the corner of the cantina, a place hidden in the darkness and shielded from prying eyes. Shielded from the gossip of the small town and the drama that came from a town of a few dozen people.

The small table was littered with drinks and chairs, a couple of men surrounding the table and talking to the man who was leaning back against the chair. The man whose laughter echoed and bounced against the stucco walls of the cantina sat around with no care in the world. His outfit, a white shirt with the first couple of buttons left open to showcase his chest, and the black denim pants that left Calum shifting his stance as his eyes landed on the leather holster that laid against the thick thigh muscle that flexed as the man laughed at whatever his associate had said. The sight of a silky black skirt, the shiny material ending just high enough that a brown leather boot peeked out as it swung against the wooden floor that had been littered with dirt and sand from the outside, had Calum's eyes following the shine of the stretched material up until his eyes were met with another.

Calum saw the way her eyes twinkled, how her lips turned and how her eyes seemed to also trace down his body, stopping at the silver belt buckle that Calum's thumbs were looped through. Her eyes, which had left Calum covered in goosebumps, made the slow and antagonizing trip back up his body until her gaze was back on Calum's. She smirked, bringing the cup that dripped with condensation up to her lips and taking a quiet sip, her eyebrow quirking up as Calum let out a breath he'd been holding in. It wasn't until Calum felt a different pair of eyes on him that he turned his head back to the man, whose hat now laid on his lap, and the laughter he'd roared out seconds before ended with a smirk thrown Calum's way.

Next to Calum, the blond had come back and was chatting with his father as Calum watched the man whose lap she'd taken refuge in turned to face her, his large hand coming up to give her hip a gentle squeeze. Calum could see his lips moving, whispering against her ear and making her squirm in his lap as she nodded a bit. Calum's gaze turned away, turning back to Luke and his father as they set another glass down in front of him and Luke offered to help get him settled in his room upstairs. Calum nodded graciously, his attention slipping from the table in the corner and towards the stairs that Luke had begun to lead him towards.

"You gonna give him a show, darling?" the man whispered against her ear, making her cheeks flush as Calum walked past their table, making his shoulders tense and his jaw clench, "I'm sure he wouldn't mind watching."

"And here you are," Luke mumbled as he opened the door to the small room that Calum would call home for the next couple of days, "It used to be my brother's old room but now we rent it out for travelers whenever we get them."

"Thank you," Calum nodded, setting his pack down near the bed, "Can I ask you something?" he asked quietly as he turned his head towards the blonde.

"Yeah, um, of course," Luke nodded and cleared his throat, shifting uneasily under Calum's stare.

"Who was that man in the corner of the cantina, with all the bounty hunters around him," Calum mumbled and unclipped the bandolier across his chest, setting it down against the hardwood of the dresser.

"Oh, that's Ashton Irwin," Luke sighed softly, "His family owns the mine that's a few hours away, the reason why this town exists."

"And the girl?"

"That's his girl, apparently she's crazier than he is," Luke sighed and shrugged, "Why do you ask?"

"Well, she's my bounty."

“Mr. Hemmings!” Ashton calls out as he walked over to the bar, his gait confident and the smirk on his face present when the older man turns to look at him, “I fear my girl and I might’ve had a bit too much to drink from your fine cantina today, mind if we get a room here for the night?”

“Mr. Irwin, you know you’re always welcomed here!” the older man chuckled, his eyes examining Ashton and then moving towards the table that was always occupied no matter the day, “Your lady and you are always welcomed to stay with us. I’ll have Luke set up the usual?”

“You sure do know how to keep a regular customer coming back,” Ashton nodded and tipped his hat towards him before he walked back over to the table, “I’ll see you all tomorrow? Michael, I want what we talked about in my hands by sunrise tomorrow.”

Michael, the poor guy who seemed to have lovestruck eyes for no one except the blonde boy whose blue eyes always looked stressed, nodded quickly and rose. The tip of his head towards Ashton and the quiet glance towards the bottom of the stairs where Luke, who’s look like he was trying to look anywhere except near them, dismissed him and he was out of the cantina without a word. Ashton had always found him to be a quiet man, but quiet men were always hard workers and he’d be damned if Michael wasn’t proof of that. Michael had been by his side since the beginning and Ashton would always make sure that his friend and loyal companion were always taken care of. He was smart, always finding a solution for whatever problem Ashton found himself in. Whether it be due to his family’s increasing monetary value or because of the girl giggling into the last of her drink as she swayed along to the chatter of the cantina.

Ashton knew she was trouble the second she walked into his life. Well really, he’d walked into her. He’d been strolling around the small town, chatting with Michael about the town’s latest plans to build a schoolhouse for the ever-growing population of children when he’s accidentally opened the door to the cantina and ran straight into her. She was small, hiding behind a hat and a large coat, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of both Ashton and Michael. That’s how their life together began, with an accident, and it has spiraled into craziness since.

“Ash?” her sleep-laced voice brought Ashton back out of his head, “Are we still...?”

“No baby, it’s already too late and the ride back is too risky and I think we should just head up to bed, yeah? Sleep off all that whiskey,” he nodded as he helped her up out of the chair, his head cocking to the side as he saw Luke staring at them both.

“Right this way, Mr. Irwin.”

Ashton knew she was trouble the second he’d laid eyes on her later that night, after having bumped into her and apologized profusely for his mistake. She’d been at the same cantina again, a shot of whiskey in her hand, and wild eyes shining bright as she danced along with a few of the other girls that seemed to hang around to entice the men. Somehow, Ashton knew she wasn’t one of the parlor girls, her eyes never landing on any of the men who stood by and watched them all dance with a hunger that left Ashton with a heavy pit in his stomach at the thought of someone taking her away. It wasn’t until she’d spotted him in the back, his own eyes following the way her body moved along to the cacophony of music and cheers, that she made her way over to him.

“You look like you could use a good ride,” she breathed out, her cheeks flush from the dancing.

“Oh?” Ashton chuckled and raised an eyebrow, “And what might a girl like you know about that?”

That night Ashton had found himself in a similar position to what he was in now, his naked back pressed up against the rickety mattress as his breaths left his lungs in huffs. Above him, under the sliver of moonlight that peeked in through the window on the side of the bed, he watched as her hips rocked with a quick rhythm. Her breast bounced with every rock, taut nipples teasing Ashton as his wrists tugged against the leather belt holding them in place above his head.

“You always feel so good,” she moaned out, her head thrown back as her thighs flexed with every pull of her body, “Always fill me up so good, Ashton.”

Behind him, the headboard hit the wall with every thrust up his hips made, the inevitable smacking of their skin together echoing throughout the empty room. Normally, Ashton would’ve been the one in control, the one who had her pressed down against the mattress and screaming his name until her high hit as she was left a shaky mess of jellied limbs. But tonight, tonight she had begged Ashton to let her out on a show for him no matter how tired she was, wanting to show him exactly how much she’d learned about riding in the past couple of months she’d spent by his side.

“Doing so good, pretty girl,” Ashton breathed out, the leather around his wrist creaking under the tension of his body, “Gonna- fuck- gonna have to teach you more and more, huh?”

“Please, wanna know everything you have to teach,” she whimpered out, her walls clenching around Ashton so hard that he couldn’t remember what not being inside of her pulsing walls felt like, “Oh, Ashton! I’m gonna...”

“You always do put on a good show, little one, let’s see how you handle the finale,” Ashton muttered as his wrist freed from the leather belt and found a grip on her waist. 

From then, with no restraints and no care in the world to who would hear them, Ashton flipped them over, pressing her chest into the bed and her ass in the air. He watched as her cheeks jiggled with every smack of his hips against hers, watched as her body leaned back against his everytime he pulled away from her, the whimpers and moans echoing louder and louder as Ashton’s hips seemed relentless in their chase for a high. He felt her walls clenching around him, warning him that something big was coming and it wasn’t long before the grip she had on him made his own eyes shut and his own moans grew louder and louder. It wasn’t long until the only thing Ashton could think about was how he wanted to stay in her for the rest of his life and wake up the whole town with the pretty noises her mouth and pussy were making. And as the creaky mattress went silent, their panting breaths the only sound in the room now, Ashton could help but smirk against her shoulder, hoping that their neighbor had indeed found pleasure in the show. 

Calum laid in bed, his eyebrows furrowed up at the ceiling as the noise next to his room echoed down the hallways and through the walls that kept him in private. His hand was wrapped tightly around himself, the wet squelch of his hand moving quickly to get any sort of relief a whisper in comparison to the banging on the wall behind him of the moans that made his ears ring. It wasn’t long until he felt his own hips tensing and his cock twitching in his fist, his hand covered with his spend as he let the shaky breaths leave his lungs, the stars behind his eyelids his only anchor to the real world as his orgasm tore through him. His breathing eventually calmed down, his hand searching in the dark for his discarded bandana that he used to quickly clean up the mess he’d made before his brain, now foggy with ecstasy slowly drifted off to sleep, dreams of a black silk skirt and a white unbuttoned shirt soothing his weary and traveled body.

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[theangrycomet-art]

Study Buddies.

Randy acquires Debbie’s help in pulling up his grades and in identifying the Ninja. But right now their focusing on History.

MISMASKED AU LORE DUMP BELOW CUT:

I know the show is literally called “9th Grade Ninja” but it feels like the plot took place over two years from the episodes we got so that’s what I’m doing here.

This takes around the start of sophomore post Randy’s summer growth spurt. Or as he liked to call it, the “totally NOT worth the Months of Agony 5 inches of Height”.

Having destroyed the last of his hoodie stash in last semester, Randy has taking to wearing his mom’s old leather jacket instead. The fingerless gloves are from his 30S2Mth gear. Cover’s up the burns on the back of his hands he got from a fight with the Ninja and McFists’ bots when his glove got snatched (they were attempting to get fingerprints).

Debbie may or may not have figured out that Randy’s the Samurai at this point, but she doesn’t want to blow his cover because

A) The Samurai is only a recent thing, so finding out their Identity isn’t nearly as interesting as finding the Ninjas

B) If Randy’s cover’s blown than Norrisville’s has only the Ninja for defense and he has made it VERY clear in the last year that he doesn’t take his job seriously

C) She found out when he was knocked conscious defending to student body against the Sorceress. Since she found out on an extreme fluke, she didn’t feel it was fair.

D) The only evidence she has is circumstantial

E) She’s pretty sure Theresa would kill her if she put her crush in THAT bad of a spot.

Randy isn’t really happy about her knowing, but it’s nice to have someone to talk about the Samurai thing besides Brent. He likes the guy, but the upperclassman can be scary af.

Howard is (as usual) no where to be found, despite Randy’s efforts to try and get his friend to answer the phone/ actually care about his grades. This probably is a good thing because we all know how well Randy and Howard study together. Plus, Debbie just leaves the minute Howard tries to flirt with her.

Compulsory heteronormativity is plaguing the boy and annoying Debbie is a good distraction from his actual growing crush.

He’s actually managed to rise up in the ranks of popularity, both as the ninja as himself. Between his people skills and the gossip he manages to gather during his time as the ninja, people want to hear what he has to say.

Howard and Randy were able to catch up more over the summer. With no one in the school for the sorcerer to stank and no one being in enough despair to be with extending his reach farther, the Sorcerer’s in his annual summer funk. Meanwhile McFist is enjoying his summer with his family so no active robots hunting the Ninja down.

Both boys still don’t realize their best friend is also their rival, despite the increasingly obvious evidence. (Howard taking on the smell of the stink bombs, the INSANE amount of weapons stashed around Randy’s room, various scars popping up that each refuse to explain, especially with Randy).

It was nice, and they ended up spending it how they spend most summers- playing video games. Randy would have spent more time training but growing pains were royally kicking his ass.

There were days he couldn’t even hold the controller. When it was really bad he just schloomped into the Nomicon to goof off/ train.

BUT things were getting better until school started, when both parties began to bail on the other once again, much to their frustration.

Brent ends up hearing the brunt of this on Randy’s side, despite his best efforts. “DAMMIT CUNNINGHAM, I’M YOUR SWORD SMITH NOT YOUR THERAPIST!” Though he will admit it’s weird, considering they were attached at the hip from what he knew.

[montrealmadison]

drink deeply

or, as they say at samwell, “penitus potes.” shitty gives the toast at jack and bitty’s wedding. for @zimbitsweddingofficial and day two of zimbits wedding week: the wedding itself!

just for fun, a draft version of the beginning of this fic with lardo, ransom, and holster’s “helpful” edits can be found via google doc here. hope y’all enjoy! <3

Good evening, everyone! On behalf of Jack and Eric, thank you all so much for being here tonight, and welcome to what could very well be the most highly anticipated wedding reception of 2019. I mean, this party was planned by the likes of Suzanne Bittle and Alicia Zimmermann. We are in for a treat, folks.

Before we get to all that, I’d also like to extend a particular welcome to those in attendance who are part of the playing, coaching, and/or office staff of the Providence Falconers. Glad you could all make it this evening; I know this past week was a little bit busy for you guys.

[Insert appropriate pause and gesture to the punch bowl, which on closer inspection is actually—oh yeah—the Stanley Cup the Falcs won three days ago. Hold for inevitable applause, general hysteria, and/or hooting/hollering from Tater.]

For those of you who don’t know me, I’ve been trying to decide whether I should introduce myself by my first name, which will inevitably get me mocked by my friends until the end of time, or by my nickname, which will definitely scandalize anyone who has not spent a significant amount of time around twenty-year-old guys who play hockey. However, as I look around the room, I’m realizing that most of you probably either raised, spent significant time around, or were once a twenty-year-old guy who played hockey. To the rest of you, I am profoundly sorry.

So, hi! I’m Shitty, and I’m Jack’s best man.

read more below or on ao3

Being someone’s best man, as I’ve realized over the last few months, should really come with a playbook or an instruction manual or something, because it’s a task unlike any other you’ll ever take on. In addition to being a friend, you have to be a confidant, an expert at bachelor-party debauchery (I think my college resume definitely prepared me for this part) and someone who’s not afraid to step in to make last-minute decisions so the grooms don’t have to. You also have to do all of these things without getting fired from your job or stepping on anyone’s toes, up to and including: the couple getting married, the other people in the wedding party, the grooms’ parents, the wedding planner, and most importantly, Moomaw, whose word is law around here. 

(Seriously. She made the pie tonight, people. Bow down to her.)

But as much as the role can feel a little bit like you’re being thrown in at the deep end, it also definitely comes with its perks. Tonight, I have both the honor and the challenge of somehow summarizing how much I love Jack and Eric in a speech that is heartfelt and witty yet also brief so that we can get to the aforementioned pie as quickly as possible. If you’re still following me here, that is a tall order—but here goes nothing!

I met Jack Zimmermann on our first day of freshman year at Samwell, during the bright, hot summer of 2011. I was participating in the time-honored tradition of moving into a dorm on the third floor of a building with no elevator and no air conditioning in the middle of August. It builds character, or so the good folks in Samwell administration probably tell themselves. Anyway, athletes got to move in early for preseason, so I was expecting to be one of the only guys on the floor for at least a couple days. I was just carrying the last box into my room when the door next to mine opened and—well, you can probably guess who walked out.

Now, I grew up in Boston, which means I also grew up around hockey culture. I’d heard the news that Jack was coming to Samwell, so I knew who he was when he stepped into the hall in that same vague way that you kind of-sort of recognize celebrities hustling down the street or through the airport with their sunglasses on. And he gave me that same vibe—“I know you know who I am, and I’d very much like not to be bothered about it.”

Here is something that will not shock you if you know us: Jack was the first friend I made in college. Here is something that might shock you if you know us: That definitely doesn’t mean we were friends at first. By his own admission, Jack wasn’t at Samwell to make friends at all. He told me, much later, that he was only planning to go to play hockey, get his life back on track, and keep his head down as much as possible.

So in retrospect, maybe it was an unlucky thing for Jack that he ran into the one person who wasn’t going to let him do that.

Because no matter who you are or where you’re from, freshman year of college breeds a unique kind of terror I’ve never felt anywhere else. There’s a lot of pressure to completely remake yourself, to become the person you maybe never could have been in your hometown. By coming to Samwell, I wanted to be a different kind of kid than the one that Andover had raised. Jack wanted to be a different kind of kid than the one he’d spent twenty years telling himself he had to be. As much as neither of us wanted to admit it, we both wanted similar things out of our college experience, and we needed a support system to do that. And so, however begrudging the two of us were about it at first, we started to bond more and more.

It wasn’t always easy. For one thing, my idea of a good time was a lot louder than Jack’s—who enjoyed such scintillating pursuits as “watching golf” and “going to bed at a reasonable hour”, neither of which were quite in my vocabulary at the ripe old age of eighteen. Also, if it’s before six in the morning, he has a hard time remembering to speak English, which used to make for a lot of stilted conversations between the two of us as we walked to early morning practice. (On a completely unrelated note, the first and probably only thing I ever learned in Québécois is how to swear.)

I don’t remember the exact tipping point at which Jack and I really became friends; I think it was more of a quiet acknowledgment that we liked having each other around, that we balanced each other out in ways that neither of us initially knew we needed. What I do know is that, slowly but surely, I started to get glimpses of the Jack that exists off the ice. And so began one of the most extraordinary journeys of my life, because the only thing crazier than knowing Jack Zimmermann is actually knowing Jack.

Here are some things that I’ve learned in the process: He’s on his third pair of neon yellow running shoes, which he buys specifically because the color makes him happy. Before either of us tried Eric’s pies, the only thing that could make him cheat on a meal plan was a sleeve of Double Stuf Oreos. (Don’t ask him how to eat them correctly unless you’re interested in a twenty-minute speech on exactly how they have to be pulled apart.) And he loves Captain America, although it is the opinion of this best man that America’s ass has nothing on his hockey butt. Have you seen that thing? It has Internet fans in at least two different countries. 

But I digress.

In our sophomore year we lived next to each other again, by choice instead of by chance, in what I can only describe as the pinnacle of American college living: the Samwell Men’s Hockey Haus. We used to pull the comforter off of one of our beds and climb out onto the roof and clear off the snow so we could share the blanket, look up at the stars, and listen to the bass thumping through the wall of the house next door. On nights when other things felt confusing, this one part of my life was clear. There’s something about sitting out under the open sky that just makes it easier to talk to a guy, you know? 

Some nights the conversations we had were funny. Some nights they were serious. Some nights we said nothing at all, just sat secure in the knowledge that someone cared enough to exist alongside us for a little while. There was always an unspoken agreement between us on nights like these: I got your back. For me, Jack’s friendship became a rock, a refuge. It’s something that I came to depend on that year and still do to this day.

As for the content of those late-night conversations—well, some things do have to stay between friends. I’m sure Jack will agree, especially because he has so graciously allowed me to get up here and lovingly roast him just a little bit.

So let’s skip ahead again, to yet another August, the start of our junior year, and the arrival on the scene of one Eric Bittle. This kid burst into our ranks like a ray of Southern sunshine and turned pretty much everything upside down in the process. In the first five minutes of being in the Haus, he somehow made us a pie? Folks, I'm not kidding, it was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. We were a bunch of guys who didn’t know what we were missing until we had it, and let me tell you, it was one hell of a semester after that. In pretty short order we had curtains on the windows and baked goods on the counters, and Samwell Men’s Hockey started to become not only a team but a family.

That was off the ice, at least. On it, things were a little more complicated. As our dear friend and former goalie John Johnson said to me, Jack and Eric hadn’t gone through their character development yet—whatever that means. 

Take our third or fourth practice with the full team that year, for example. It had gone… uh. Poorly, would be a word. Later that night I heard some rustling on the roof outside, and God knows I was willing to do just about anything but my homework—so I stuck my head out the window and there was Jack, watching the stars. I asked him if he wanted a buddy, and he said alright, so I slid out and sat down next to him.

That was pretty usual for us at this point. What wasn’t usual was the topic of conversation. The first thing Jack said to me was, “Bittle’s gonna get eaten alive when our schedule starts.” (Remember, people, they’re married now!) The second was, “I want to help.”

Here’s another thing about Jack: Underneath the veneer is a guy who just cares so intensely it’d shock you if you knew nothing else about him. It shocked me a little that day. I think it even shocked him to admit it, to the point where I had to say, “Jack, it’s not a criminal offense to care about other people. Even if it feels like you’re doing it for yourself.”

So he helped. He offered an olive branch, and Bits took him up on it. I’d hear the two of them get up in the morning, hours before the rest of us had to be at Faber, for checking practice. None of the rest of us ever knew exactly what went down, but one thing was for sure—Eric put in a ton of work to overcome some of the fears that had followed him to college. He got better, and Jack relaxed. The two of them really started working as a team, and things started looking up from there.

The day that they told us they were dating was pretty amazing. Eric is so full of light no matter how bleak a situation may look, but that day he was literally almost glowing. And I’ve seen Jack in moments after victory and loss, at his best and at his worst. But I’ve never seen a Jack who was so happy, possessed of such confidence in a decision he’d made, as I saw him that day at brunch. And that’s when I knew this relationship was really special. 

From there, many of you know the story. You watched it play out on ESPN and social media and the front pages of every single gossip magazine on the supermarket shelves. But if you’re sitting here with us tonight, you also watched it play out between Jack and Eric themselves. You’ve watched them handle expectations as a united front. You’ve watched their unfailing dedication to each other while they navigate the pressure of being some pretty big firsts. You know that, behind the scenes, these are two incredibly genuine people who  bring out the best in each other and are dedicated to doing that every single day.

In the last four years, I’ve watched Eric become self-possessed and confident because he was given the space to do so. In the last six years, I’ve watched Jack grow from a kid with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove to a guy who finally believes that he deserves all the good things the world has given him and then some. If you take nothing else away from this speech, I want you to know this: I’m incredibly proud to call myself a friend to both of them.

Jack, Bits, you’re always gonna be my brothers, my best friends, and two of the finest damn men I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. I wish you both a long and happy marriage. Take care of each other, be good to each other, and never forget where you started—as a team.

So please join me in raising your glasses, everyone, and as they say at Samwell—penitus potes to Jack and Eric!

[violets-page]

In her arms |R.M|

Rebekah Mikaelson x reader

Word count: 2181

Rebekah and you have been friends forever, but when Damon and Elena try and use you as leverage she confesses her feelings. 

warnings: torture, nothing too extreme or graphically depicted. 

MASTERLIST

God, you hated living in Mystic Falls.

Those were your first thoughts when you woke up alone and in the dark.

Where you were was a mystery but how you got there was plain and simple. You had been kidnapped. But by who was what you still had to wander.

You sat as still as you could trying to listen for voices, footsteps, or hell; even traffic. Not that you could even hear anything over the sound of your own heavy breathing. Your head pounded as you tried to figure out how you ended up here. 

Last you had remembered you had been walking to Bekah’s house. It was only about a mile from where you lived and the sun had shone brightly. Not to mention your mom’s car was in the shop so she had taken yours. 

The last thing you remembered was smiling at the thought of the Mikelson’s trying the spicy pasta you were going to make for them tonight. That and then your head colliding with something hard.

You gave up on listening and started to struggle. Your hands were bound in front of you by a thick rope and your feet bound underneath you. After trying to shift your hands out of the ropes for probably a good 10 minutes you realized that whoever tied them was making sure that you weren’t going anywhere. 

By now all the thoughts had started running through your head. They’re going to kill me. Or worse. I’ll never see my family again. Will they ever find my body. Oh my god oh my god. Rebeckah is waiting for me. If I die… I hope she never has to see my body or hear about what happened. 

By now your hands had brush burn where the rope laid, and your legs had fallen asleep. the old shirt of a gag that they had tied around your mouth was soaked in spit and you could no longer taste the bourbon on it that you could when you first woke up. Not to mention the pains in your stomach from skipping lunch, and now probably dinner. 

Rebekah- god knows why- had become rather insistent in training you on self-defense so you had gotten pretty good at that. She failed, however, to show you how to escape from rope bonds. 

You managed to scoot forward quite a bit. Reaching up towards the door handle you twist it only for it to be locked. Of course. But that didn’t mean it was useless. 

The door handle looked ancient. It was metal with one of those old keyholes. Part of the metal plate jutted out in what looked to be an attempt to yank it off. 

Reaching up you started to rub the ropes against the metal piece hoping to cut it off. Your actions halted before starting again faster at the sudden appearance of footsteps.

Shit shit shit.

When the door opened you fell threw. Not realizing how much you’d been leaning against the door. 

“Damon, we already have her. You don’t need to torture her too.”

You were pushed onto your back by a foot to the stomach.

Your eyes met pale blue ones song and a terrifying smirk.

Damon Salvatore

The only reason you knew who he was was because of the absurd amount of time he spent pestering Bonnie and Rebekah. Who happened to be the few people at Mystic fall high you talked to regularly. 

You recognized the voice scolding Damon as Caroline.

“Oh come on, she’s not gonna come if she thinks her girlfriend is A-okay. We gotta ruff her up a bit.”

Girlfriend?

They definitely had the wrong person

As you made eye contact with Caroline she dared to shoot you a little smile and wave. You just glared at her.

“Alright listen here hun, all you gotta do is scream, cry maybe spill some blond for us then call your dear friend Rebekah over to save you and we can all leave happy. Okay?΅

Your brows furrowed. What do they want with Bekah?

Bekah must have a girlfriend she never told me about. And they must think I’m her. 

Your heart hurt at this realization.  

When you made no move or any attempt to reply he continued on.

“look, we just need Stefan back’

Your reply came out muffled by the gag. Which he promptly (and aggressively) ripped off. You shifted so you were sitting up with your back against the cold wall.

“Bekah doesn't have stefan”

He rolled his eyes at you

“I know that. But Klaus does. Klause doesn’t love anyone but his family, and we couldn’t catch them. Trust me we tried. However, Rebekah loves you, which means she’d do anything to save you even if that meant betraying her brother.”

“Maybe.” Caroline piped up.

“Even if she did she would call the authorities to come and save me. Bekah wouldn’t risk her life to come and get me. Plus I’m not her girlfriend.” 

At this, they all rolled their eyes.

“Trust me she will” Damon scoffed

“Let’s just give this over with” came the voice of Elena. Who had somehow appeared at your side. 

Your eyes went wide at the sight of the needle in your leg before quickly dropping closed. 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

When you awoke again you were in what appeared to be the Salvatore living room. A quick glance down showed that your hands and feet had been bound tightly to a chair.

“Finally she’s up.” Elena grumbled

“Well someone miscalculated the dosage” Damon side-eyed her. 

“Well no one told me she was a human”

Human. There was that word again. You never really understood what they meant. Bekah and her brothers always referred to you as their little human, which implied that they were different. While you didn’t fully understand it, you knew parts of how they were different.

You knew Rebekah and her brothers were all extremely strong and never seemed to get hurt. And you knew from eavesdropping that there were others in the town like them. 

You weren’t scared though. Well, at least not of the Mikelsons. They would never hurt you. Damon and Elena on the other hand….

The earlier stalked towards you with a devilish grin on his face. He reached for your hand and you immediately tried to pull back. Unable to because of the restraints you felt his cold hand engulf yours. 

Right before he broke your finger.

You screamed partially from the shock of seeing your finger bent flat against the back of your hand and the other part from the pain.

It wasn’t until you saw Damon glance back at Elena did you notice that she was recording.

Other hand. Same finger. 

Again you screamed. Louder this time. 

One by one he broke each one. Waiting for your screams to subside before moving on the next. *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

After there were none left to break and your vision was fading in and out from the pain, he leaned in close. 

“Now beg for her”

At first, you didn’t know who he was talking about. But as the tears started to run down your face and all you could think of was the safe embrace of a certain blonde, you knew. But never would you drag her into possible danger. You would rather let him break every bone in your body. 

And it seemed he might.

“Is that all you’ve got?” you mumbled so quietly that you weren't sure if he even heard you or not. Apparently, he did. And boy was that the wrong thing to say.

He motioned to Caroline who handed him a sleek and simple dagger before covering her mouth and turning away.

You hoped you were wrong about what you thought was coming. But when the dagger pierced the skin on your thigh there was no denying it. 

“Bek… “ it had slipped through your lips without you even noticing. Damon however easily caught it.

He removed the dagger and aimed a little lower before plummeting it back in. Your mind rattled as the sound of your screams filled the house.

“BEG FOR HER” but it was too late. You had already passed out

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

“It’s good enough,” Caroline tried to convince the pair. “Just send it to her”.

So they did.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   * 

Rebekah was starting to get worried. You were supposed to be at her house by now for family dinner night. Plus it was your turn to cook. 

She wanted to tell you all about how mad she was at Nik as you played with her hair. She wanted to see you smile as your warm arms wrapped around her with promises that everything would be okay. 

You would have texted her if you were going to be late. Right? 

She let out an audible sigh of relief at the sound of your ringtone coming from her pocket.

Her ease was short-lived when instead of a text she saw a video. Of you. Hurt.

A million thoughts raced through her head as black veins extended from beneath her eyes. 

Before her mind even caught up with her body she was out the door.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

By the time she arrived at the Salvatore house, she thought her dead heart would just about burst out of her ribcage. 

Flinging the door open she ran right to Damon. Steak already in her hand she raised it high above her head

“STOP” she looked over to see Elena holding a knife against y/n’s tear-stricken face.  Her demeanor quickly changed as she let the stake clatter to the floor. Her tight grip on Damon’s shirt, however, remained. 

“If you touch her Elena it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

At the familiar sound of her voice, you couldn't help but let every muscle in your body relax, despite the situation you were in. 

You couldn’t even hold back the words that left your mouth.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

“Beckah.” She heard you sigh in relief. Her heart swelled at the sound of your voice. 

“Here’s how it’s going to go.” Elena spoke with a sudden burst of confidence “Call your brother and get him to bring Stefan back and make him turn back on his emotions. No Stefan. We kill her. Hurt any of us. We kill her. Got it?” 

Rebekah looked back at you. There was no way she could get to you in time, the dagger was already drawing blood from your neck. Shoving Damon back she walked out with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The moment she was out the door she immediately dialed Nik.

“I need you to bring Stefan back.”

His reply was exactly what she had been fretting: “You know I can’t do that bekah.” 

Her hands shook as she tried to keep her voice steady. “Please Nik, they-” breath in breath out. “They took y/n.” 

The line went silent.

“Please please please” she begged as silent sobs wracked her body.

“Wait right there”

* * * * * 

Klaus had a soft spot when it came to anything involving his sister. And if that meant protecting a weak human girl that made her happy then so be it. 

Don’t get him wrong he adored you as well. You came over every Thursday to prepare a new dish from around the world with them. And while he wasn’t as infatuated with you as Kol and Bekah are, he had grown fond. 

He arrived at the Salvatore house hours later to find Bekah curled up on the sidewalk out front. When she looked up he saw that her makeup had been wiped off and her eyes rubbed red. 

As she took note of the lack of a Stefan she stood up. “Where's Stefan?” 

“Don’t worry I'll handle this” he made a move towards the door but Rebekah quickly moved in front of him.

“No Nik you can't, they’ll kill her. You need Stefan, please just go get Stefan.” 

He gripped her shoulders and gave her a slight shake to bring her back to her senses. “Bekah. Don’t forget who you are. Who WE are.” she gave him a nod and they turned towards the house. 

Within moments the pair had knocked out two of the vampires and the third was left cowering far away from y/n.

Becka leaned close so only Elena could hear. 

“If you ever even think about touching her again, I will kill everyone you ever love. For all of eternity,” she smiled and the quaking brunette. 

As soon as the vamps were taken care of Rebekah wasted no time running to your side. Your head felt light and you weren’t sure if you were hallucinating because of the blood loss or if Bekah just snapped Caroline’s neck. You also weren’t so whether she was talking or that was just the ringing in your ears. 

As she undid the ropes you faded in and out of consciousness. But now you were certain you had heard her mumbles clearly

I love you. I love you. I love you. I’m so sorry. I’ll never let you go. I love you. I love you. I love you. 

as she pulled you into her warm embrace you knew you were safe.

And as tears and lips hit your forehead. You knew this would be the end of your friendship.

Pt.2

[itsbeaconhillsbaby]

octopus hearts || tom holland x reader

a/n: how do my intended blurbs turn out so long! god dammit. this idea popped into my head, so I hope you all like it. as always thank you so much for supporting; liking, reblogging, commenting or messaging me about any of my work. I love interacting with you guys and I plan to try and be more of a presence in general, not just with writing. come chat! hope you’re all well x  word count: 1638 warning: none...I think everything I write is pretty tame summary: it’s about time you and tom extended your little family 

“You do know she’s only young...” “And? What’s your point?” “The point is, you’ve managed to find the biggest toy in this whole place!” Tom turns to you, cradling two sacks of dry food to his chest, muscles straining slightly against his t-shirt. In his free hand was a large fluffy purple octopus - all 8 legs dangling centimetres off the ground. You’re both stood in front of the full aisle of toys, picking out your favourites for your new arrival. “She’ll grow! Plus look at it...she’ll love it.” He holds up the toy until it’s eye level with you, its stitched mouth looking at you almost mockingly. You roll your eyes, smiling at Tom’s pleading face, his bottom lip curling upwards into a pout. “Okay, it is cute. But that’s the last one Tom, we don’t even know if she’ll like them yet.” Tom grinned cheekily, slipping the toy into the growing basket you were holding, planting a sloppy thank you kiss onto your cheek as he did so. You laughed as he fist pumped the air before continuing your way through the aisles. The excitement was building, the whole situation becoming more and more real, as you searched for the necessary items.

//// “No peeking!”

If you could’ve rolled your eyes, you would have. You had been sat in the car for around 15 minutes, with your eyes closed and your hands covering your face.

Tom had finally wrapped his latest film in the US, and you had spent the past three days in-between your classes ‘reuniting’ – neither of you surfacing from your shared bedroom unless you were forced to do so. You had assumed Tom had met up with the boys, gone down to his local or played golf during your class time and were therefore extremely confused as to why he suddenly woke up one morning, bribed you to get dressed and dragged you out of the house, only to beg you to keep your eyes closed as soon as you got into the car.

“I’m not sure I like this surprise Tom, where the hell are we going?”

“We’re almost there, you’re going to love it! I promise.”

You felt the car come to a halt, gravel crunching beneath the tyres.

“Stay here one sec.” You heard Tom’s car door slam shut, and soon enough you felt the cold air as yours opened.

He guided you out of the car, allowing you to use him for balance as you struggled to get your bearings, eyes remaining closed the entire time.

“Okay. You can open them.”

You slowly opened them, blinking confused as you looked at a grey building. you eyed tom from the side, seeing his cheeky grin lighting up his entire face before you turned back to the building. It was then that you noticed the sign.

You were at your local dog rescue shelter.

“Tom…what are we doing here?” You fully turn to face him, eyes widening in both excitement and shock.

“Well we’ve lived together for over a year now and I know we said it wasn’t possible. But with this new film, they’re looking at a franchise and it’s an entirely UK based production, so I’ll be here, and I don’t know – you’re graduating soon, I’ve looked into dog sitters and walkers for during the day. My family can help ou-”

You interrupt him mid-sentence, arms wrapping around his neck and shoulders as you pull him towards you, eyes fluttering closed as you kissed him. Your entire stomach erupted into fluttering butterflies at all the thought behind the surprise, at the idea that Tom was genuinely just as excited about adding to your little family as you were.

You push back suddenly, “This is actually happening right now? You’re not messing me around? Because that would be a mean prank…”

“No,” he grins, laughing. You felt his breath tickle your cheek, “it’s all real. Now c’mon, we’re going to be late for our doggy date.”

He tucks you into his side, arm wrapped around you as you head into the building, your stomach doing somersaults the entire time.

////

Your phone buzzed, lighting up next to your laptop. You were in your university library, researching titles of books you needed for your dissertation when a text from Tom popped up:

eta 10 minutes x

You immediately took note of the last couple books on your list, before closing your laptop and stuffing it into your bag. You grabbed the pile of books you’d already collected into your arms before checking them out at the front desk, heading immediately for the nearest train station.

You made it home in record time.

As you unlocked the front door you could hear the pitter patter of tiny feet on the wooden floor. Placing your bag and books on the entry table, you let your keys fall into the bowl alongside Tom’s.

“Hey baby. In here.”

You peeked around the corner into the living room where Tom was lying stretched out on his side in the centre of the room. Holding his head up with his palm, he held up a soft crinkly toy as your new little ball of golden fluff jumped on her hind legs in her attempts to reach it.

“We’re bonding,” he murmured, lifting his head to look up at you, “come join us.”

The little puppy was all legs and floppy ears as she caught her toy and bounced across the room, tripping over it as she tried to hold it up. She paused as you entered, her head tilting dramatically from left to right, her toy immediately laying discarded as she tumbled towards you.

“Hey puppy! Hi Nala.” You kneel down, letting her sniff you to remind herself of who you were, before she wiggled onto her back, paws in the air as you gave her belly rubs. Her white and golden tail thumping on the wooden floorboards.

“Oh my god Tom, I can’t believe she’s here!” He sits up, grinning from ear to ear. He rolls one of the balls next to him and you both watch as Nala bounces after it, attention immediately grabbed. You shuffle towards him, placing yourself in his lap, “Thank you, thank you, thank you. Did she cope with the journey okay?”

Tom winds his arms around your stomach, “She was a star. She’s great in the car, didn’t even cry.”

You nod as he begins peppering kisses on your collarbone, as you watch your new puppy continue to explore her new home.

Your eyes are immediately drawn to one of the discarded toys, the giant octopus that was taking up a scary amount of room on the floor. You roll your head towards your boyfriend smirking slightly, “I take it she didn’t like it?”

He whines quietly, huffing, “So she might have run away from it, I think it freaked her out…” you laugh, tangling a hand into his hair as you pull him towards you, before you hear a noise that causes you both to dart your heads up in search of the destructive sound.

“Oh, fantastic so she’s hates my choice in toys, and she’s a cockblock,” Tom mutters as you stifle a giggle, immediately hurrying after your little pup.

////

You were laying on the couch, Tom’s chest pressed to your back. Nala had completely passed out, lying half in her crate, and half out of it and you couldn’t take your eyes off of her.

“Well, I think that was relatively successful,” you murmur.

“You would think that, it wasn’t your shoe laces that she chewed up,” Tom murmured from behind you.

You’d both had a tiring day with Nala. Once she got bored of playing with her toys, she immediately decided that running outside with Tom’s shoe and hiding under one of the bushes just out of reach would be far more exciting.

“You can’t get mad at her, look at her little face.” You sigh, officially completely head over heels in love, “I can’t believe someone would just dump her, she’s gorgeous.”

You felt Tom brushing a hand up you side absentmindedly as he nodded, “I know. They think she was bought as a christmas present, and then abandoned a couple weeks later.”

“We’re going to give her so much love. And I can’t wait to introduce her to Tess. You think they’ll be friends?” You grasp the fingers trailing up your arm and bring them closer round you, interlocking yours with his.

“For sure...best of friends.” He says as you snuggle further down against Tom, his arms tightening around you as you both relax against each other.

The pair of you let Nala recharge her batteries, diving into an episode of the latest show you had been watching together when you jump with a small gasp at the startling movement beneath you, as Tom sat himself up.

“Oh my god, look!”

You take a glance at Nala. she’d shifted herself in her sleep so instead of laying on the cushioned dog bed and blankets that were in her crate, she’d shimmied out and lay flat out against the giant octopus. Paws tangled with the soft legs of the toy as her head rested on its fluffy body, her pink tongue lolling to one side.

“Yes!” Tom cheered, Nala’s eyes immediately opening from the noise, “I knew she’d love it! Watch this space, Oscar the octopus is going to be her favourite.” He jumped off the couch and hunkered down next to her.

“Wait…do not tell me you named it?”

You took in the man in front of you, lying on his front playing with the pads of Nala’s paws and felt your cheeks begin to ache slightly from the smile on your face.

“Who’s clever! Yes Nala, clever girl.”

You took in your dorky little family, sliding off the couch to join them. The perfect little family of three.