#maybe i'm coming at it from a curved angle but like

[drawnecromancy]

Author ask game

Tagged by @isabellebissonrouthier ! thanks :)

Tagging : @the-stray-storyteller, open tag bc idk who else would like to be tagged ^^

I'll be talking about Le Prix du Sang here.

1) What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it?

There isn't any that I'm currently planning on having. Whether I'll find one on the way or not is still up for debate. I'm not giving lessons, I'm just throwing awful people in the same general area and looking at what they do.

2) What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)?

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh [blanking]

There's definitely the. General european fantasy setting you'd expect from a european writer, i guess.

Although this place's worldbuilding is, specifically, based on a no-fun-allowed discussion I've had with my sister AGES ago when I was a teenager. What if it had magic, but was an awful fucking place ?

Idk. I tend to pick inspiration from a lot of places and it's hard for me to pinpoint one thing exactly. I can tell you when rereading that "ah, i probably picked that bit up from Ewilan" or "oh, this is absolutely because I hated X thing in les Chevaliers d'Emeraude", or even "oh okay this whole dye business is absolutely because of some of the classes i had".

Definitely, the fact that Monthaut is known for its high quality wool fabric is because of my classes.

3) What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, help readers grow as a person?

She's trying to achieve having a stable life for once, and once she gets at she's trying to keep it no matter what it takes.

I'm trying to see how interesting I can make that while sometimes the secondary characters are doing most of the stuff.

I want readers to come watch those fucked up little guys with me. Again. I'm not going to teach you SHIT. Come look at my weirdoes. They're kind of awful. Wanna see how far they can take their bullshit ?

4) How many chapters is your story going to have?

I have no idea ! Several, definitely ! I've written, uh, 8 of them so far. We're not past the halfway point. So at least double that ?

5) Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original content. I don't plan on posting it, but on hopefully going the traditional publishing route.

6) When and why did you start writing?

Good question ! A long time ago is the best i can do.

I do think I used to write random snippets when i was a very young kid, just for fun, to entertain myself. Then it was writing stories with my younger sister, just for the both of us.

We'd always find ways to put links to each other's stuff in our writings. Were our main characters actually related ? Did they just know each other for whatever reason ? Etc.

7) Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers of Tumblr do you follow?

Uhh... I consider myself to be a little bit to the left from writeblr because this is just my personal blog, man. I just happen to be a writer and an artist.

A lot of my friends tend to be these things too, altho I'm not super sure they'd consider themselves part of writeblr (hi Mal my beloved, Jo, Zach!, Alren); so I'm not tagging them here. Again, don't know if that'd bother them.

For people who have writeblrs that I follow, well, there's Isabelle and Stray I've already tagged, and @holdmyteaplease (also, if you do want to do this tag game, feel free!i just don't know if you do tag games LMFAO); and I think that's about it.

[scarletwinterxx]

won't let these little things slip out of my mouth - jeon wonwoo imagine

i have a confession... i cried while writing this. now i'm sad no one will ever propose to me this way, why oh why did i even write this BUT I LOVE IT SO MUCH🥺🥺🥺🥺

A/N: I HIGHLY SUGGEST PLAYING SPRING SNOW BY 10CM WHILE READING THIS. or not if u don't want to cry like a baby (like me🥹)

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The cold winter air nips at your cheeks as you walk beside Wonwoo, his camera slung over his shoulder as always. The streets are adorned with twinkling lights, festive wreaths, and the hum of Christmas carols drifting from nearby speakers. Despite the chill, you feel warm. Maybe it’s the cozy scarf he insisted you wear or the way his hand occasionally brushes yours as you walk.

He’s been unusually quiet tonight, though. You steal a glance at him, noting the slight curve of his lips as he stares ahead, the golden glow of streetlights reflecting in his dark eyes. He’s up to something. You just know it.

“Jeon Wonwoo,” you say, breaking the silence, “what’s with the secrecy? You’ve been grinning like a kid who knows something I don’t.”

He chuckles softly, the sound warm and familiar. “Patience,” he teases, his tone as smooth as always. “You’ll see soon enough.”

He leads you to a quaint little gallery tucked away on a quieter street. The windows are frosted, but you can see the soft glow of light inside, illuminating what looks like an intimate exhibit. Your curiosity piques as he holds the door open for you, the bell above jingling softly.

The gallery smells of wood and faintly of pine, and the atmosphere is calm, almost reverent. Wonwoo leads you through the first room, where a variety of black-and-white photos hang on the walls. They’re beautiful, sure, but they don’t hold your attention for long. Not when you can feel Wonwoo’s excitement radiating beside you.

“Come on,” he says, tugging you gently toward a smaller, dimly lit room at the back. “This is the part I wanted you to see.”

The moment you step inside, your breath catches. The walls are lined with photographs, but these aren’t just any pictures. They’re familiar. Too familiar.

“That’s... Wait, that’s from our trip to Jeju!” you exclaim, pointing to a shot of you laughing on the beach. Another photo catches your eye—a candid of you staring in awe at cherry blossoms during spring. And then another, of you holding an umbrella, your face lit up with laughter as the rain poured down.

You turn to Wonwoo, your heart racing. “What is this?”

He’s smiling, that soft, shy smile that always makes your knees a little weak. “Keep going,” he says, nodding toward the other wall.

You walk further into the room, and your chest tightens as you take in rows and rows of photos. All of you. Every angle, every expression, every moment he managed to capture. There’s one of you napping on a park bench, another of you squinting at a map, and one where you’re mid-bite into an enormous burger, ketchup smeared on your cheek.

You burst out laughing, tears pricking your eyes. “You didn’t!”

The walls of the gallery feel like they’re closing in as you walk further into the room, your gaze darting from photo to photo.

Each one is a piece of your life together—your smiles, your laughter, even your messy moments. You pause at a picture of you trying to eat an ice cream cone that’s melting faster than you can keep up with it. You remember that day vividly, how Wonwoo kept laughing and snapping pictures while you tried (and failed) to salvage the cone.

“Wonwoo,” you say softly, your voice trembling as the weight of it all settles over you. “You’ve been collecting these... all this time?”

“Every moment I could,” he says from behind you, his voice warm and quiet in the stillness of the room.

You move to the next photo. And then the next. They’re all you, and it’s overwhelming in the most beautiful way.

Then your eyes catch something different.

The very last photo on the wall.

It’s simple—a close-up shot of a ring nestled in a velvet box. The light glints off the delicate band, making it shimmer in a way that feels almost magical. Your breath catches in your throat as you take a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Is that—” you start, but the words die on your lips when you turn around.

Wonwoo is there, down on one knee in the middle of the gallery, holding that same velvet box in his hand. The air leaves your lungs as your gaze locks onto his, the vulnerability and love in his eyes almost too much to bear.

“It’s just us,” he says softly, as if he’s answering a question you didn’t ask. “No distractions, no one else. Just you and me.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. He takes a deep breath, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

“I’ve spent so much of our time together trying to capture every moment, every expression, every laugh, because I never want to forget a single second with you. But the truth is, none of these photos come close to how I feel when I’m with you. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen—through my lens and in my life.”

He opens the box, revealing the ring that you’d just seen immortalized in the photo. It sparkles under the soft lights of the gallery, but nothing shines brighter than the love in his eyes as he looks up at you.

“I want this to be my last photo project,” he says with a small, shaky laugh. “Because after this, I just want to live the moments with you. Will you marry me?”

The world tilts and rights itself again as you nod furiously, your tears spilling over. “Yes! Yes, of course, I’ll marry you!”

Wonwoo grins—one of those rare, wide grins that you know he reserves for the moments when he can’t contain his joy. He slides the ring onto your finger, his touch gentle and sure, before standing and pulling you into his arms.

The silence of the gallery wraps around you both like a warm blanket. It’s just the two of you, the faint glow of the photos on the walls casting soft shadows.

You lean back to look at him, laughter bubbling up through your tears.

“You seriously used a picture of the ring for the big reveal?” you tease, your voice trembling with joy. “Couldn’t help yourself, huh?”

He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “It’s a story, isn’t it? And now it has the perfect ending.”

You rest your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. “Not an ending,” you whisper. “The perfect beginning.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the story of your love etched in photographs, you know you wouldn’t want it any other way.

[dollyyss]

I FELL INLOVE WITH THE KYLE FIC OMG??? OK OK WHAT ABOUT THIS.

the main gang with an S/O that is like, VERY VERY SNUG/TIGHT, like unnaturally tight (but not negatively ;)). Also a virgin, like the biggest virgin out there, completely oblivious to stuff like that and super sensitive to touch in general, talking just a graze of fingertips might gain a small whine. I'm thinking maybe a correct adjective for this would be just the classic virgin reader + the things listed. AAAAA FEEL FREE TO DO THIS DEPENDING ON HOW YOU HAVE ENERGY I KNOW UR SICK😭🙏

-🃏

..sigh you just love to do things to my brain don’t you anon.. WHY MUST YOU DO THIS TO ME- NEOCIE IM GONNA GO FERAL RAWR RAWR RAWR jk I’m such a sweet girl, I’m an angel I would never. Tehehe. And I’m sick so I’m an even more touchy just brain melty mood.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Kyle’s gang + butters with virgin reader!

Established relationship ₊ ⊹

All characters are aged up! Highschool AU! ‧₊˚✩彡

Kyle, Stan, Kenny, Cartman and butters 𐙚

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: smut/ NSFW, some degrading

Kyle 🐇𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒🪐

“Just like that holy fuck.. you’re so good for me.” Kyle let out a low moan, his head leaned far into his pillow whilst you slowly rode him. “That’s it baby, slowly, don’t look away, keep looking at me, that’s it. Keep watching me baby” his hands held either side of your face in an attempt to keep you with him, to keep you from looking away from him. Your legs shook on either side of his waist, your hands covering your face as you helplessly rutted against Kyle. You practically sucked him in earning groans and whimpers from the lanky gingers lips. “Fuck you’re tight.” He couldn’t hold back anymore, not with the way you gripped so tightly around him, not when he was trying to pull out to slam back in. No you gripped so tight he couldn’t even pull out. It was enough for him to grip onto the sides of your face harder, pulling you down so your forehead rested on his and he snapped his hips up into a ruthless pace.

- He’s a sweet boyfriend. He’s just a sweet guy in general. So when you tell him you’re a virgin he of course would never ever judge you for it.

-what he didn’t know was everything he did could basically make you drip on the spot, and majority of the time it’s shit he doesn’t even think of. He’s sitting with you in a restaurant with Stan and the rest, he softly touches your thigh, opening it to drag you closer to him. He doesn’t think a thing of it until you let out a squeak. Everyone raises their brows, Kyle looking at you when he feels your thighs squeezing his hand. Ahh.. you were sensitive too.

-“have you.. ever touched yourself..?” He asks curiously before feeling you shove his shoulder “Kyle broflovski!” “What? Sorry, I’m sorry. I just. Wanted to know” there was silence before you slowly nodded. He thought for a moment “has anyone else ever touched you?” He questioned again, watching as you shook your head side to side looking at him with big doe eyes. Your hands placed between your thighs. He softly bit his bottom lip, watching your body gently rock back and forth at the thought “do you.. want to be touched?” He slowly scoots closer to you, watching as you slowly lay back on his parents couch, his hands coming to tease the hem of your pants.

-he goes so god damn dumb when you grip him. He doesn’t know how to act. It’s like his brain shuts off and he goes into auto pilot. He’s usually gentle but fuck when he feels you grip so tightly, tight enough that you can feel almost every curve and vein littering his cock, he’s biting your shoulders and slamming into you. He’s swearing, panting. He’s so fuck drunk he doesn’t know what to do.

Stan .° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ

Panting. He’s a panting mess. He tries to form words but he’s so focused on trying to find a deeper angle, trying so desperately to feel you tighten even more then you already were. Your finger nails dig into his raven locks watching as your feet bounce due to your legs being locked around his waist. He was slightly hunched over, his hands on your ass to lift the bottom half of your body off your bed by a couple centimetres, his face buried in your hair while he lets out pleasurable grunts. “Stan!” Your lips spewing his name made him open his watery eyes, lips immediately coming to your ear. “I know, I know. I’m right here.” His hips snap as he slowly sits up, his member pulling out but with a struggle, his tip being the only thing remaining in your gushing warmth. “Can you take some more for me? Hm? Think you could do that?” When he watches you nod he gently takes your legs from his waist and pushes them against your chest, finding himself thrusting deeper at the new angle, your walls clenching so god damn good.

-“virgin? Really.. you? Are a virgin?” He almost doesn’t believe you because to him he can’t see how someone like you could be one. He’d thought everybody would be all over you. But he would admit he was proud to be the one to take it from you. He’s kinda dumb. So he doesn’t catch on. He just thinks you innocence is just, well how you are. But no.. no it’s for many reasons.

-he guides you 100%, you might actually make him a bit nervous because he doesn’t want to ruin this for you. He doesn’t want to take your purity away in such a vile way, he actually wants to make sure it goes exactly how you want. Tell him and he’ll do it. “You’ve got it babe”

-like I said Stan is a little dumb from time to time so he just doesn’t understand why you can’t sit still on his lap. He doesn’t get why your legs are practically shaking and stuttering against him when his large calloused hands come to hold at your hips. Maybe he’s not dumb he’s just, oblivious. He’s noticed that when he sweeps the hair from your neck to the other side you shudder, gripping onto his arm. “Are you? Are you good?”

-when he finds out the reason for it being you were a virgin he kinda.. likes it. He likes that he can be the one to make you act like that, how a single touch from him could have your legs open for him. Of course he takes is time with you. But he does enjoy teasing you from time to time.

-.. the first time you give him a handjob he’s definitely staring at you. He’s on the couch because his parents aren’t home. So what a perfect spot to do so. Your hands pump his cock so well while you partially hide your face, turning it the other way. His arms are resting on the head of the couch, one hand coming to turn your head so close to his you can feel his breath. “Don’t shy away from me..” his eyes are on you, nose pressed to your cheek as you pump him faster, you bottom lip tugged harshly under your teeth.

Kenny ₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉

“Mm I think you can take more sweet thing.. shhh I don’t wanna hear another word. You lay and look pretty for me yeah?” Kenny’s pace was torturous as it was; but having him grip onto his headboard, and pushing you further into his sheets was enough to make you clench harder around him. He shivered, his smile growing wide enough to expose the missing tooth on the right side further back. “Kenny please! I can’t do it.. I-i can’t take much more” you pushed at his lower stomach, still your grip around him was hard for him to pull out, pulling out would mean feeling every inch of his cock and that alone was pleasurable enough to send you to your edge. “Awh the poor baby, that’s a shame isn’t it, cuz you are” he was quick to take your jaw in his hands, pounding into you, his other hand pushing down on your shoulder to keep you from squirming. “Fuck I love the way you clench around me, like you don’t want me to leave” he cooed at you. Feeling yours fingers scratch and grip at his sides and lower stomach once more.

-he’s a horndog. So finding out you’re a virgin? “SCORE” he’s jumping over the moon for joy! Really it’s nothing to be so happy about, so giddy, but he’s just more or so happy it gets to be him that shows you everything.

-he’s probably one to tease tremendously until you finally lose your virginity to him. He likes watching you twitch and squirm at every touch he gives, but he makes sure his touches are extra touchy. He’ll walk behind you to grab your chest, when your making out his tongue is tracing your collarbones all the way down to the hem of your underwear. He wants you to feel like it’s about to happen but he’ll keep you waiting just a little longer.

-he’s probably gotten you to hump his leg. I’m not kidding. He was sitting on his bed, watching you walk around a little too tempting for him. He wasn’t exactly ready to do things to you quite yet, and he didn’t want to force you but when you ended up on his floor, sitting on his foot to try and get off. That shit eating grin never left his face. “Where did that pretty little innocence go hm?” “Kenny.. s-stop it’s not funny”

Cartman 🎧✮🧺✧˖°

“You’re so pathetic.” cartman pulled out, before pushing himself back in further “squeezing and gripping my cock like you don’t want me to stop.” He repeated slowly pulling out before pushing back in. “You go so dumb for my cock you can’t help but clench onto me huh? You silly little thing” who knew Eric cartman was also a teasing little shit even in bed. You. You did. Your hands held onto his shoulders, your feet planted on his bed, knees up and shaking as he worked his way to a somewhat quicker pace. He kept his thrusts short but he was deep. Both due to him and you pulling in him each time he tried to pull back a bit. “Eric, m-mm~” he cocked a brow stopping for a moment before looking at you fully. “Go on, say it, I won’t move until you do” your eyes shot open “mmm- more I want more please” he chuckled gently “you greedy bitch, I’m giving you so much and you want more” he listened though, he gave you what you wanted. He always did in the end.

- “pfft. Fucking virgin” he was too. So don’t let him get to you. Is he going to tell you that? Fuck no. Do you know? Yeah most likely I mean it’s cartman he’s lucky he even landed you. “Cartman shut up. That’s fucking rude and it’s not funny” you crossed your arms. “I’m sorry I’m sorry.. hmm” you shot him a glare. “Cartman.” He placed his fingertips to his lips “it’s just.. a little funny” he pinched his fingers together to make a small gap between his thumb and pointer finger. “I hate you.”

- a fucking tease, like Kenny he uses it to his full fucking advantage. He’ll tease the fuck out of you but just won’t give you want you want. You want him to take your virginity and baby he will. He just wants to get you all pent up, hot and bothered.

-from time to time, when things feel like they’re getting closer, and both of you are practically undressed his tip is teasing at your entrance, slowly circling before he stops for a moment, “hm, I don’t know, I’m feeling a little *yawn* sleepy yknow?” He smirks before laying down on his back watching as you look wet and dumbfounded, legs slowly closing as you sit up. “What the hell Eric..” he looks at you. “You could, suck me off? How does that sound?” You roll your eyes lowering your head at his commend. Don’t worry.. he’ll do it. He just likes to tease you to the very edge, to where you think you’ll get it.

Butters ˚☆🐈*๑

“P-please I won’t last much longer if y-you keep doing that..” butters stutters his words. He has you in a mating press, his legs surprisingly keeping him up, as he slams back down repeatedly. “I’m sorry baby.. I-i can’t he-help it oh my god~” your hands run through his hair, his head lowered towards yours as his lips try to reach your own. You clenched around him each time he pushed in. And god did he love watching himself pull out to watch you grip, your juices coating his member. And when you were left empty he watched as you pulsate trying desperately to find him. The look of it.. fuck he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help but to give your tight fit exactly what it wanted “ahh~ lord.. I’m so close~” he whispered against your lips. He knew if his parents seen him now he’d be grounded for god knows how long but Jesus you drove him crazy the way you sucked him back in.

-“virgin? Well that’s alright darlin! Me too! We can learn together!” What he doesn’t know is you’ll have him sucked in, he can’t escape. Not that’s it’s bad. But he becomes addicted. Ever since the you told him, all he’s had on his mind is you gripping him so tightly, your warmth and softness. He’s like a rabid little bunny. But he does keep it to himself, he wants to be gentle with you, sweet and attentive the very first time. You both wanna make sure the other is comfortable.

-he finds it cute when he touches you and you practically moan. Because.. he does the same thing. You touch the back of his neck? He’s shuddering and moaning at the way your fingertips softly lingered. He loves when you you lay him down on his bed, lifting his shirt to kiss around his belly button, your lips lingering against his slight bright blonde happy trail. And he does the same to you, his lips tracing every inch of your body until he reaches between your thighs “mmm.. can I?” He asks gently “well I’ve never done this before so if it’s bad.. I’m sorry” he looks up at your with puppy dog eyes, making sure you know he’s just never done this. When you give the okay, he gentle.. but he can’t help himself when he tastes you, he’s immediately got your legs over his shoulders, and he’s making you squirm and scream. He’s very proud of himself. He’s not much of a tease but he tries to when he gets in the mood

“Well don’t you look awfully pretty” he mutters in your ear, watching the blush creep onto your cheek and you squirm in the place you sat. He’s not the greatest at teasing but hey he tries. And he makes sure you both learn one step at a time.

-but once he’s had it once…. There ain’t no going back. He’s like a wild dog off its leash.

Im sick.. and I’m feeling.. in the mood. I love them. I want them.

[jasmineoolongtea]

― if you think i'm pretty 𝜗𝜚 ‧₊˚

― the ways in which they lay their hands on you and can't stop thinking about it ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

contents: gojo x gn!reader, geto x gn!reader, nanami x gn!reader, megumi x gn!reader, yuuta x gn!reader, headcanons/brief drabbles, quite suggestive (all characters are aged up!!!!), a lot of touching, making out, both reader and characters are needy and down bad for each other what can i say a/n: inspired by if you think i'm pretty by artemas and baby by madison beer, as you can see, i was very inspired for some of them compared to others so don't mind the difference in length djkajdwd

gojo satoru can't help but have his hands on you at all times. it's a genuine problem. some might even call it a disease or affliction, a deadly illness if you want to go that far.

whatever it is, he doesn't think he wants to find a cure for it. not when he can so easily coax out those wonderful sounds from you with the brush of his fingertips, those noises that are reserved just for him even though you try and deny it, and especially not when you decide you want to try and turn the tables on him.

that's how he finds himself underneath you on the floor of an abandoned office, his wrists pinned above his head as a devilish smirk graces his features. you're hovering above him, one hand locking his troublesome hands in place while the other is pressed against the cold floor to support your stance. right now, he's thinking about how this might be one of his favourite angles to look at you from.

he knows you're trying to tease him back, testing his patience and will to resist like he does with you, in a sort of punishment for his wandering hands but he can't even hide how much he's visibly enjoying this moment. it annoys you, deeply. you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine, shifting your weight onto your knees to free up your other hand so you can run it down from his neck and stopping just right where his belt sits which earns you a breathy gasp from him.

you smile to yourself, clearly pleased at your own doing. but you don't have long to celebrate your victory as it seems you've underestimated how thin his patience runs when it comes to you. in an instance and in one fell swoop, you're flipped onto your back as satoru is now the one caging you against the floor. your faces are barely inches from each other when he leans in, his breath ghosting the shell of your ear as he whispers,

"it's my turn now."

geto suguru thinks apologies are useless. in most cases, he rather you show him instead.

to him, words often get in the way of many things and even more so when emotions come into the mix, scrambling them up to the point where they are nothing more than regurgitated word vomit. he's a firm believer in the phrase, actions speak louder than words, and he's definitely not shy about carrying out said belief in his daily life.

why tell you how much he wants you when he can simply show you through how his hand never seems to leave your waist even in the most crowded of places and how his lips seem to find yours in an instance as if he's worried that they might miss his company even if just for a second.

the same goes for you. why tell him how sorry you are when you can just show him? and so you do, caressing his jaw with your fingertips while your lips roam the expanses of his neck and collarbones, making it their sole mission to map out and commit each curve and mark to memory. every kiss you place is an apology in its own way and it makes the both of you forget what you two were even in arms over anyway.

"satisfied yet, sugu?" you murmur against his skin, the sound of your voice sending tiny vibrations that grants you a pleased hum from him.

too bad for you, it turns out that he's tough to please, or rather just tough to fully satiate his seemingly insatiable appetite for you.

"not yet. actually, far from it."

kento nanami is pretty sure that you're trying to punish him for something he did.

maybe it was because he didn't tell you what was truly on his mind when he came home from work last night in fear or burdening you with worries or maybe it was because he didn't touch you then, even though he knew that you were looking too good for no one to be touching you like they should.

but whatever it is, he knows that whatever you are doing, it's dangerous.

you two were in public, wide out in the open. he could feel his breath hitch in his throat as you nudge your heel against him, dragging lazy lines up and down his leg and stopping just right next to his upper thigh before disappearing again underneath the cover of the table. as usual, you offer him no visible reaction that could possible give away your true intentions to him, just a ghost of a coy smile on your lips.

was this fun for you? to test his resolve as a gentleman, drawing it thinner and thinner into a taught line ready to snap at any second? or did you just want to see first-hand what it would be like to see come undone from your actions alone. knowing you, it would probably be the latter but he could never know for sure as it seemed that he would inexplicably always play into your hand.

with each lingering touch wherever you could get your hands on and each teasing glance at his necktie, as if you were already trying to undress him with your eyes, he had never wanted to throw caution and any ounce of public decency he still had at this point and return the favour to you.

god, you were going to be the death of him.

fushiguro megumi thinks that you're a handful and isn't shy about making it known to you.

it doesn't help him at all, of course, only earning him a sly grin from you as you continue with your wandering touches and teasing kisses, lingering on certain areas such as right under his jaw where you know you can elicit a low breathy groan from him. he tries to hide his reaction in an attempt to not give you more fuel to continue but he fails every time with his body betraying him as the tips of his ears seem to grow impossibly redder and he even finds himself subconsciously leaning into your touch.

in response to his words, all you say is, "hmm maybe, but that's what hands are for." as if to prove your point, you entangle one of his hands with yours, pulling it closer towards you and placing it right in the middle of your chest like you were inviting him to do some of his own exploration himself. he avoids your gaze, knowing the moment he made eye contact he would be done for and whatever was holding him back now would shrivel into nothing in an instant.

you giggle softly to yourself, showcasing your obvious amusement at how much he's trying to prove that he's stronger than this. you lean in closer towards him, your faces barely centimetres apart as you murmur, "and last time i checked, i'm pretty sure you have two of them."

that's when he makes his fatal mistake, looking down to see your plump lips just a breath away from his and noticing how your eyelashes flutter softly as you, in turn, look up at him through them. he can imagine your body on his lips and that's all that it takes him to use his free hand and to close the distance between you two as your lips crash against each other.

screw this, he doesn't want to wait anymore.

okkotsu yuuta is obsessed with you to the point where to others, it could be seen as concerning. thankfully for the both of you, he's never been much to care for other's opinions.

it doesn't matter if you manage to kill him, whether intentionally or unintentionally, because no matter what, he'll just come back more obsessed with you. a fact that he so clearly demonstrates whenever you're around him.

"p-please," he mumbles against your lips, his fingers tightening their grip around your cheek, "don't go." his voice is shaky with a tinge of desperation and his pupils are so enlarged with his unquenchable thirst and desire for you that you've lost track of the whites of his eyes. to him, even parting for a breath of air when it comes to you is a painful act that causes his heart to ache and swell.

yuta's never been much of a sweet tooth but he thinks you taste like the sweetest candy that could ever exist and it's as if you're covered in a layer of sugarcoating he wants to be the only person who has the privilege of being able to lick it off with his own lips. your hand snakes its way up his arm and around his neck, pulling him tighter into your grasp and he takes this as his cue to dive back into your lips.

at this point, he's no better than an addict with how much he's greedily devouring you with his mouth, wholeheartedly consuming you with every fibre of his being as his tongue desperately awaits to explore more of you and see if this is the only place that you taste sweet. all good things in this world cost something and you're no exception but whatever the price is, he doesn't care because he'll pay for it.

hopefully, he's planning to repay it now in his own sort of way.

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 4

[prompt: roleplay] male reader x kang hyewon 8k words

“I need you,” Hyewon says in the uneasy dark of a hotel room, with two urgent fistfuls of your shirt, “need you to do to me all the things my husband never will.” “Yeah, I know,” you tell her, “you said that,” and her eyebrows move in all the wrong directions, “I’m just wondering if, you know, maybe we should give him a little more credit.”

-

Here’s the truth:

Hyewon doesn’t believe in leaving evidence behind and you don't find it particularly productive to doubt her; you’ve been talking in code for years. Parts and pieces of yourselves reduced down and bottled into set phrases that, to anyone else, would be totally incomprehensible.

"i've been thinking," she texts you, which you've come to understand means she's already made up her mind, "maybe we should do that thing we were talking about. tonight."

(You're not always so fast on the uptake.)

You send two back two texts, both of which ask "which thing?" because the hallway from the breakroom to your desk has poor reception and it never lets you send just one.

Then, right after you cross the threshold between signal-drowning-concrete and the glitzy glass-walled arboretum they've built to make you feel like you're not a total cog in their corporate machine, your phone pings the receipt of Hyewon's reply: a picture - her laptop, propped up on your coffee table with its screen angled for perusal, of a booking site that's filtered to show results for their 'king bed & view' room at a midrange hotel a forty-five-minute ride from your apartment.

"not really doing much narrowing down here hyewon."

She replies to you - her text bubble appearing over another couple still images, of herself in the vanity mirror as she curls her hair around her finger and holds this little black slip of a dress over her shoulder, black lacy lingerie in tow, the whole nine - with:

"i'm feeling kinda adventurous."

-

Five o’clock rolls around but you never really do figure it out. You spend the last three hours at work deciding which kink of hers (oh, does she have a few) this is all in service to.

There's nothing overtly sexual about her pics in the first place - not more than usual anyway, more showing off her curves and cut jaw than showcasing anything for her 'adventurous' intent. So that can't be the tell - you'd seen her in a corset once (you can't unsee it) and the angle of her hips to the mirror makes you think that if she was planning on pulling on a  pair of crotchless panties then she probably would've found her thigh high stockings, too.

You try and think of what the two of you had even talked about when discussing these little scenes - how many times you'd ended up 'in the mood' during or after such a meeting of the minds, how it'd snowballed from there, a whole list of filthy what-ifs that she'd probably put more thought into than you ever have - but you draw a total blank. It could be any of a number of things.

Until,

"i left you instructions on the kitchen island," reads a text on your phone which you definitely don’t check while you’re driving -

And then it hits you.

"ah."

"yeah, 'ah'," she replies.

-

A quarter past seven at the hotel bar is way too early for any real promiscuous activity, but then again, you're here playing at pretend and half the fun of games like this is in the setup.

Meet me at the bar, your instructions read, introduce yourself, and play it by ear.

There's some couples at the other end, some friends downing shots by the round, people musing over their aperitifs, and a woman sipping alone at the bar - Hyewon, appearing to you from the back first:

The pointed edges of her shoulders narrow out over this tiny cocktail dress that somehow covers less of her than if it weren't there at all, skin tight, accentuating even her softest curves. She has her hair fixed a particular way - teased enough to flip at the ends but still a single sweep down her shoulders, pulled together softly by a ribbon in the back, tied like a fantasy, allowing a wispy strand to fall to her face - glossy and dark and glowing to this rich, deep mahogany where it's cast in the lamplight.

The line of her throat, of her chest. Where her hips meet her waist in a rounding flare. The effort and beauty she's gone to, for you - that she puts in every day just because she knows it gets your attention, can do more than turn a head or two; Hyewon's appearance is almost indifferent of you, only coincidental, but she puts on a damn good act.

(You look a lot more worn in comparison: jacket thrown over dress shirt and khakis, tie loose at the neck. Standard office attire with just a step-outside-regulation. Disheveled.)

A drink, you suppose - approaching the bar to try and catch the bartender's attention to order a single malt.

But if Hyewon's been waiting long, she doesn't complain when you pull into the stool beside her and sit for a long moment.

"Do you mind if I join you?" you say over a pair of politely folded hands - and that's generally where her 'instructions' end.

The look she fixes you with is just this unashamed smoldering, her body language this contradictory kind of lazy - cool, like her night was going exactly the way she planned but she still had places to be.

"It depends," she replies, one slender finger curled around the stem of her martini glass - which historically, is a drink she hates. "Who's asking?"

"Just me," you offer, letting the gesture and your tone leave it up to her. And then slowly, perhaps awkwardly: "ostensibly a complete and utter stranger who knows a gorgeous woman when he sees one - and who could never pass up a chance to see how the rest of her is."

"Smooth."

"I guess it is, considering you didn't immediately run for the exit."

Hyewon nearly snorts.

"Hard not to." She tilts her head back at you, assessing. Her cheeks are rosy pink. "A handsome thing like you doesn't usually buy themself a girl's time with flattery -"

"Buy your time or your drinks?" you tease, and you can tell she wants to roll her eyes - but she keeps them carefully lowered. Eyelashes dipping down like blackened fans.

Hyewon shifts slightly, resting her chin onto the heel of her wrist like she's leaning against an imaginary windowpane and tipping her face a little sideways. It makes you smile. "One gets the other, if you catch my meaning."

Maybe it takes you a little too long to lift your gaze off her lips to find her eyes, or off the sweeping curve of the hemline sitting high across her long legs, but she watches you for just a breath. It's a more telling moment that she pretends she doesn't know you.

"You can look at me if you like," and then without further preamble, she introduces herself with a slight tilt of the head and an expectant expression: "call me Hyewon."

You figure that if you've gotta say one word to get the ball rolling you want to say her name, and as a little revenge for forcing you to think on this scene and think on what to say, what your character would say, how exactly she wanted you to go about 'meeting' her in a hotel bar, how her fucking scenario's been building up in her head for god-knows-how-long (even though, in the scheme of the two of you and your relationship, it’s nowhere close to being the most demanding sex you've had), you reply simply with:

"Pretty."

It's satisfying, how she hesitates - pausing a little longer on your face to gauge exactly what you meant. Studying. But the next beat of your heart - or hers - is effortless, easy.

"I know. That's what my husband calls me."

"Husband?" You keep yourself from raising an eyebrow. "And I don't suppose I'm also... married?"

"Different day, different you."

"Meaning I have a wife or a mistress of my own," and you flick your wrist at the barkeep for a top-up of what's in front of Hyewon. "You're telling me I'm the kind of man who'd only settle for two."

It doesn't sound quite right, though Hyewon picks up on it. Doesn't let on. "Aren't men like you always? Charming to a fault, but always voracious - insatiable, especially with women like me."

"Women like you."

"Married women. Unavailable," she simpers, and in a practiced little motion, draws her hand out to where you can see it properly, this sparkle on her fourth finger that catches the lowlight of the bar. The diamond looks real - not that you'd actually know - and your stomach flexes up mid-somersault thinking about the financial impropriety for what amounts to a gag. A practical joke. Hyewon the comedian.

Still, you go with it and take her hand in yours, admiring. "What a pity." The glint off its faceted surface - Hyewon's watchful as she allows it.

"Isn't it," she agrees.

The more unnerving thing - besides how composed Hyewon can make herself be - is how the narrative quickly becomes a whole hell of a lot clearer with the context of marriage in play. She's mentioned it before: the infidelity thing, the way it leads to the raunchiest, filthiest bits she'll dare to explore. In some ways, her desire for the untouchable makes a lot more sense -

And maybe that's what had been nagging at your mind since she brought up the idea of playing the part: you always end up kissing in that stupid 'caught up' sort of way. With an intensity that's hard to beat. Even though you wouldn't ever cheat on her. Not in a million years. You'd watch her leave before doing anything like that.

But it's thrilling, almost, and even more thrilling that this isn't entirely improvisation: how well the two of you might actually play this off, as two total strangers to this illusory little roleplay that you'd normally say was your very last interest.

"But you know there's something I've come to appreciate about married men," Hyewon continues, her voice in this conspiratorial sort of hushed.

You blink, drawing her out.

"They know how to tie a knot."

There's the flirty wink, an upward flick of the chin that draws your eye to the span of her chest. To her body in that skin-hugging dress and your fingers entangled in hers - the gentle bump and shift of the bodies behind her, moving between the tables - Hyewon a queen of circumstance, playing to the moment as it bends; as her lips part in a pleased smile, red and smooth, almost innocent, and you can't help but imagine tasting her on your tongue, the force that'd take for her to yield when you finally got your hands in her hair.

(What a character, honestly.)

"Tell me something," you say, "why would a married woman, this pretty little thing like you, be all alone in a place like this - without her charming husband."

Hyewon's smile curls at the edges like smoke. "I never said he was charming."

You raise an eyebrow. "Good-looking, then."

"Never said as much either."

“Why are you with someone you find neither attractive nor charming?”

Hyewon makes a face, slightly pitied. “If that Isn’t what I’m asking myself everyday.”

"Hm." You narrow your eyes into something more quizzical than suggestive. It works on her anyway. "That doesn't feel too much like it's in character, Hyewon."

She shrugs, but it's that coy kind of shrug. She thinks you'll let her off easy - you usually do. All considered, she's the type who thrives off the chase and, as of today, so do you.

"But he is cute." Her expression is just this side of sweet, as she takes a dainty sip of her drink. Like the taste doesn’t bother her, like she isn't pretending she doesn't hate it with every fiber of her being. Like this is easy. "And maybe -" she quirks an eyebrow at you, withholding a smirk. "-you're right. Maybe, I was looking for someone cuter to fill the bill. And luck would have it, here he is."

So - apparently - her character doesn’t mind a little light infidelity.

Hyewon takes in the vague sense that the message wasn’t as clear as she might have liked, her forehead scrunching as she tries to convey - in a way that would communicate even to an airhead - some realization to play your part.

"Maybe it's the wrong question,” you start over, taking it from somewhere near the top, “what are you doing here, with me?"

That's when Hyewon graces you with one of the soft, slow kind of smiles: the kind that manages both an air of 'you dimwit' and 'good question'. Her fingertips barely graze yours but it's noticeably electric. Just enough to feel your pulse fluttering.

(You don't care that none of it’s real - Hyewon looks to you through thick eyelashes like a goddess of temptation and sin - and it makes something wicked coil up warm at the pit of your gut. A curious thrill and a recklessness that you have to admit feels a little nice - being the man trying to talk this woman into bed. The challenge and the buildup, the want to work for it. It's new. It's fresh. Lo-and-behold, it's kinda hot.)

When you catch her stare, she fidgets. So slightly, so briefly, your chest is on fire and you're barely into the pages of her plans, of this night ahead.

"Wish fulfillment, let's say," and that is no less true. "See it’s my husband."

"Mhmm."

"He respects me too much to do the things I'm going to ask you to do."

"Like?" you continue to prod.

Hyewon lets out the tiniest shiver of a sigh, like a trickle of cold water down the length of her spine. "Take a good guess."

You finish the rest of Hyewon's martini, slow. Savoring the warmth and bitterness sliding down the back of your throat. The night's young, sure - and if you're supposed to be spending it all wrapped around Hyewon's finger. This means you can take your time.

"Show me your room?" you propose, gesturing to the empty glass.

"I thought you'd never ask."

At your offering, she stands up and throws on her coat - long, double-breasted, chic - but only really just off her shoulders to have the hem hit her legs mid-thigh. One of her many personal quirks. Hyewon knows how to move like there aren't two eyes staring at her wherever she goes: not the awkward side-to-side of a girl who wasn't made to wear heels - a loping gait - nor the assured click, click of the taller kind that totter like it's all they've got going for them.

Something totally different: a little careless and a little haughty and an assurance of the highest confidence.

She winds an arm round yours like they do in movies, this parody of a leading lady - Hyewon not a seductress as much as she is someone who'll look the part just to convince you otherwise. There is a pretty big discrepancy, you find, between her bravado and her smile, her figure and her artistry - you couldn't act if you wanted to; meanwhile, she does whatever she damn well pleases. And somehow that doesn't even begin to cover the things that turn her on.

The two of you make for the stairs, winding up floor after floor until it's perfectly quiet, perfectly out of sight - hidden away from prying eyes and ears.

The silence of an empty hotel stairwell is thick - Hyewon's hand comes off the railing, as she takes to the wall and turns to face you. It's a gentle tug at the tie loose around your neck, barely any give before you're already there, holding her by the hips.

"Might've gotten us lost there," you whisper, as her finger plays at your chest and finds its way round the collar of your shirt. Your top button is already undone by the time you notice she's not fond of it. "The elevators would've gotten us where we're headed faster."

"Don't worry." She hums, leaning in close - like a magnet, like gravity. "You're getting the scenic route."

"Anything to stall the inevitable," you tease, but it isn't a thread she seems interested in developing.

"Something like that."

Hyewon shifts her weight back onto her right foot, her skirt riding up just barely. The dip between her inner thighs and the smooth curve of her leg is open and bare to your sight, her dark stockings like an unspoken challenge: the panties, lacy, loose, no crotch.

And it gets... indecent, the way your lips connect, how you realize half-way into that kiss, she's still smiling. It isn't any one way that does it; maybe it's the clever use of her tongue, or that particular position you've coaxed her up against the stairwell wall that makes it seem like Hyewon can't be any more in danger - it's too much to handle and your mouth goes slack on the reflex of an apology; her hand has a hold on you by the jaw and it won't budge.

"My husband," she murmurs into you, the trace of the words ghosting into the breath between the both of you. "Never lets me."

"What," you rasp, barely recognizing your own voice, your hand heavy on her side - the very real fear that you might tip over a banister because Hyewon's got her heel half-way into the back of your calf and any less bracing would bring you down. Your thoughts are a fog, with her cheek in one hand and your knee already up between her thighs.

"His wife," she almost swallows down, kisses turning chaste because maybe it's just easier to gently peck out her intentions, how she looks to you with dark eyes, heavy-lidded and wanting, a thumb trailing down the plane of your cheek. It'd feel like pity if you weren't thinking exactly the same.

You try to finish it for her:

"She likes it rough."

"No." Her nose traces yours before she connects you again - gentle and slow, and a shudder rolls all down the expanse of her shoulders; you think you have it about right. Until she makes the slightest adjustment and her grip in your hair turns agonizing, perfect and burning on the edge of too tight - too much. You are straining against the wall of a hotel hallway and she's saying, "not rough."

She kisses you. Hard. Until you gasp for the stolen air in her lungs.

"Filthy," she manages against the heat and sting at the side of her cheek.

(Damn.)

Your voice has gone and lodged itself firmly somewhere between her lungs - but there's something that says she knows. That you've got it in you, the brimming potential that might just say everything you ever wanted but couldn't figure the right way to put it.

It's the tone of her voice or the spark in her eyes, but one moment into the next - you're caught in this pull - like gravity's increasing tenfold at her will; her heartbeat's so strong you swear you feel it against your ribs as she's demanding:

"Messy. Dirty. A little uninhibited," and the obvious thrill of that must flare up like lightning under her skin - the way it makes her moan, soft and breathless: "fuck me like my husband doesn't."

She’s not even waiting for the comfort of the room yet, which in hindsight is probably checking more of Hyewon's many boxes - it's the sex in public thing, the fear of discovery thing, the desire to have you ravish her out where anyone can come upon you sort of thing - the thought of which has your jaw go a little slack too. Her leg up is coiled up around your hip, your fingers tangled in her hair and sliding up the length of her thigh, until you're fucking kneading up her ass and drawing out that desperate whine in her.

"Fuck," she exhales into your shoulder - a hand on the metal bannister to brace against those little circles you start to rub inside her, pushing - slowly - one, two, three knuckles deep, testing - before drawing back, and plunging forward again. This ache, slow and purposeful, pressing just enough into her until there's a wet sort of friction that has your hand slick all down your wrist.

It never takes long, with your fingers on her clit, fingers inside her, a palm covering the moans out of her mouth -

She cums just like that.

Whining and broken and bent under you, and with an elbow hard against her ribcage to make the breaths come shallow.

"Stay quiet for me, sweetheart," you find yourself murmuring, as your teeth graze the shell of her ear - the short burst of hair and silky strands across the back of her neck; you're undoing the neat ribbon tied round the length of her hair and letting her waves settle on her shoulder in time for you to swallow down the sound of her sighs, the tension in her lips, and the frantic jolt when your fingers push through the wet, heat of her pussy again, merciless and quick. You have to be careful; she nearly bites your fucking tongue out.

"Can't." Her jaw's tight on it, the slight staccato to her breathing, murmuring and slightly dazed: "if we get caught, someone will see. Someone will notice."

Her next exhale is more shaky. "Anyone could see us like this," with just her toes curling and her stomach tensing on every second beat. Your grip leaves a bruise. "Please-"

"We're not supposed to be doing this at all, are we? If you've got a husband waiting somewhere?"

You hear yourself, and it sounds sorta degenerate, though in all the right ways, you figure, like something straight out of one of Hyewon's romance novels, the dirty, smutty ones that she swears up and down she simply reads for the plot, but the dazed, hazy kind of mood they get her worked up into suggest otherwise.

You trace the rough pad of your thumb over her pussy, this delicate, ghost of a touch. One you'd have to strain to even tell if it was there or not until she whines - eyes screwed shut like she doesn't mean to, just does. The sound of it bouncing around the stairwell.

And then, all this wet: her skirt's ridden all the way up to her stomach, damp and near-transparent with slick, and you can just imagine the puffy pink between her legs - between her stockings in the afterglow of an orgasm, spent and sensitive and sore and wanting for more. Your eyes linger a little too long -

"I shouldn't let you," she manages, half a moan on it - one of her heels comes up the stair you're standing on and the way Hyewon clings onto you for balance says enough, but still, she demands, with all the strength her throat allows: "make it fast. You're lucky I let you see me like this at all -"

And she cuts off abruptly, looking at you.

(She'll play coy for a while longer. Which, Hyewon being Hyewon, will look like as much an effort as her sprawl out on the bed for you is.)

"The room," you say to her, harshly, "where is it."

"Four more floors."

-

Room 1014 as it turns out is like every other room you've ever been in, each one perhaps a little more identical than the last - except this one has Hyewon sitting in your lap while you get comfortable on the bed, and there's also the way she looks in the mirror above the headboard, the desperation in her stare, right back into the reflection.

"What all," she says, "do you want to do to me?"

This time - no explicit instructions - just an implication. You have to figure it out.

See, the image of her is like every fantasy rolled into one, wearing this thin black bra that has her breasts just about spilling over. They're amazing - the color and shape of her skin. Soft. Cradled between the cups like a godsend, and maybe that's why it drives her a little crazy how good you look biting down the ridge of her breast and flicking your eyes back up to catch her expression.

It has you feeling, if nothing else, a little ‘adventurous,’ too.

Her belly tenses on a heavy sigh and it's one hell of a thing to have Hyewon staring you down, like you're an animal or an idiot, with her eyes flashing and a thinly veiled anger in the purse of her lips. There's a thousand things she'd like to do to you - for you to do to her - but it's about the predicament: the silk necktie she'd pulled off you as you both stumbled through the door has ended up around her wrists, pinning her arms behind her back in a way that suggests a loss of control. Just the mere suggestion of a little playacting, but she's almost keening.

You feel the touch of her right calf keep rising - curving down your waist, hooked behind the small of your back - her thighs smooth, and a hot line along your sides.

"I should fuck that pretty mouth of yours," you say against the shell of her ear, because you know better than anyone, the very concept gets her wet. Uncomfortably so.

And she leans her head against your temple like she'd love it. You could be imagining the little whimper as she clenches up round nothing - until a growl escapes the back of her throat and she's saying -

"Is that how you're going to cum? With me on my knees and nothing else? Cover my pretty face? How you’ll completely ruin me?. You’re more creative than that."

“I don’t know that I am.”

Her hips move to find some friction where there isn't any until you give her some, pulling your cock out through your pants and feeling it brush, once, twice against the seam of her. Hot, and hard. Ready. And if she only tried a little, the angle was made perfectly to slot your head in, but neither of you move. She doesn't yield.

"Let me fuck myself on you," she suggests, strained, almost pleading. "Then perhaps I will."

You could take her like she is. Any which way. But this is about getting a particular reaction - one that'll leave her spent and trembling - and nothing like that will happen without a little bit of preparation and prelude. You want to watch her writhe for hours. Until she forgets she's playing a character at all, until she's panting your name and whimpering for release, her cheeks burning.

But at least it gets her writhing on you, the heat and press of her body as she leans in close, your eyes locking:

"Get your cock inside me-" the urgency in her voice. "-fuck me right now, this second-"

"Say it again."

"Fill me with your perfect cock." The words land right on your lips, frayed at the edges as the tether to her control slips another notch. "Push my thighs apart until you break me," Hyewon tells you - and then with her legs twisted up in the comforter, the creaking mattress and the sweat on the sheets: she rolls her hips like they're pleading for it.

"Pushy."

"Gentle's got no appeal for us."

"Apparently not," you reply - but then it's suddenly a lot easier, to slide one hand in Hyewon's hair, and grip at the knotted silk wrapped tight 'round her wrists to hold her. There's no hiding the subtle arching of her spine, how the pressure off her arms pulls her chest in or makes it all the more comfortable, she doesn't let on, she'll probably keep pretending she doesn't like this, that she hasn't always wanted -

You run your tongue over her collarbone and thrust up inside her, once - a warning that you're not giving in to her quite yet.

The smile that runs her lips is brittle. Like her patience isn't what it used to be - she makes a quiet little noise, pained. A flash of discomfort. But there's a moan and a curse out of her:

"Like that. Harder."

"What does harder mean?" you ask, with a deliberate repetition in motion, thrusting upward, forcing her hips to shift a few degrees further back - her knees clenching around the sheets as you're met with no give - Hyewon's resistance through a dark smile, and her grip slackened in her hands, despite you keeping a fist wound tight in the hair on the back of her head, tightening the other around her restraint.

Her throat flinches: this shudder.

She takes a couple heaving, open-mouthed breaths, before she has it in her to glare at you again.

"Harder-" The way her mouth shapes around the word gets the better of you - cute little cupid's bow in pink, full and swollen and pursed up as if in pain. Or desire. Or both, the way her head is tipped back, hair half undone - an idea is already coiling at the back of your mind. "-until I can't stand."

"Or talk?"

And when your hand loosens on her wrists, her posture slumps like it's relief, that you're finally going to move along in a direction she's getting some satisfaction from -

Hyewon shakes her head in a moment that's almost blissed.

"You," her voice breaks on the tail end, "fucking wish you could shut me up that easily -"

In a motion almost gentle, you twist the length of hair down around her, from her scalp to her jaw, and wrap it around a hand. "Let's see if you'll change your mind, shall we."

There's a sharp draw of air in past her lips, just one sound, not a word. No proper rebuttal. She bites down, teeth clicking.

So you pull.

And this isn't some revelation, that Hyewon's cunt is heaven. Slick and tight, the fit around your cock and the gasp escaping the base of her throat - that isn't new. You've been here countless times, fucked her past her breaking point, beyond what should reasonably satisfy her or satisfy you, but that still doesn't take away from this incredible, heady rush that pulses through your entire body. It never stops getting better, not inch-after-fucking-inch the way you're bottoming out inside Hyewon's body and feel how hard the rest of her muscles tense up in the contact, how her pussy tightens and quivers, and grips around the entirety of your cock, the briefest taste of pleasure and release before it's pulled back just out of her reach - overstimulated, until Hyewon cries out.

You expect, predict the fight, the whimpers that spill out of her mouth with every slap of your skin and the breathless way she begs, pleads, like she'd rather her pride take it from her than have your fingers tug her hair up, right out of her scalp, with your arm locked around her lower waist. With your cock pumping faster, faster and a pressure, hot and inescapable, right there - the friction building - the slippery-wet heat sliding along your shaft with every stroke until you bottom out and her next exhale is a sob.

A goddamn fucking sob and the warm gush of liquid down her thighs - all on you. You fingers are pressed into her ass, pulling onto you, steading her bounce - and Hyewon finds her breathing uneven, as you smear wet across the curve of her backside, rubbing circles into her lower back as you catch up on the rhythm she'd lost.

"This tight little cunt, huh," you tease, and she nods so desperately it seems like she might snap. Like she might cry again and this time for real, a drop of her eye color past the blush, streaking down her cheek. You have the wherewithal to remember your character, your blocking, your lines: "this is what your husband won't do? Won't fuck you on every piece of furniture until you're a ruined fucked-out mess? Doesn't have the decency to work over his little slutty-wife until she's passed out, dripping with cum?"

Hyewon's fingers curl up into two balls of white knuckles and she chokes on her reply. "He won't."

"Tell him. He has a hot and dirty little piece of ass right under his own roof-"

"You think," and the string of words trails off when you manage to grind in, at this angle that has her reeling, trembling at every shift and jerk in momentum. Your knuckles drag against her soft and giving curves, almost gripping at her in the attempt to hold her down on you. "-my husband isn't enough."

"Well you wanted me to fuck the domestic housewife out of you," you murmur, taking two greedy handfuls of the ass bouncing in your lap, rubbing your palms along her hips, up and around the shape of her abdomen and her ribcage like you'd map it, memorize it. She wants this, you know this: your palms come around and over and brush your thumbs against her rising gooseflesh - she's putty in your hands. "No strings attached, remember, a one night kind of thing-"

"My husband loves me."

"Then it seems-"

"He makes me cum with his hands alone."

Your jaw works tight - Hyewon's cunt feels as good wrapped around you as she says your cock feels making a mess of it.

"Tells me he'd die happy hearing me moan his name."

"Oh, because no matter where he goes," you say, fingers wrapping under and around the back of her neck, forcing her to look you in the eye, "no matter what, your sweet cunt's the only one his mouth is ever watering for, isn't that right-"

A blink, lashes thick and feathering down and over the pools of her pupils as you have a hold of her tight. 

You're having a hard time with this, and you want to give it to her, the toe-curling-crescendo that would see her cumming at your will, or worse, losing the plot completely and your entire setup falling away from the charade of characters you'd both conjured. But she looks at you like she's never loved anyone like she loves you, the naked, barefaced devotion, the tenderness - a quick breath, a second - and the game is suddenly something far more personal, a truth. It isn't exactly fair: how your heart stutters. How much her heartbeat makes your pulse flutter, the electrifying rush you get when you fuck roughly up into her tight, wet cunt and make her bite down on nothing in the throes another orgasm.

You barely have a second to think of something coherent, let alone an out before she kisses you. If that isn’t totally disarming. So you move her into the next, flipping her onto her stomach, and she does nothing to fight back: Hyewon just lies there - the side of her face plastered to the comforter - exhausted, and gives a willing, malleable moan at the contact where your hand digs into the shape of her upper thighs, spreading them out as her elbows struggle behind her back.

"Here, baby," you say, finally unwinding the silk knot between her wrists, "I'll have you like the little desperate fucktoy you really are."

There's the bite to her bottom lip, the whole five seconds it takes for her hands to spread out and twist her fingers tight in the bedspread, before she whines - full-throated - and rocks back onto her toes to arch her back.

(See, the thing: Hyewon likes being fucked within an inch of her life. On all fours and pleading for more.)

With your free hand, you reach around her to run over her inner thighs.

Hyewon brings her grip to the bottom of the bed frame, for purchase, or leverage, you don't know, and in one simple motion, you slip your cock back deep inside her pussy.

You curse under your breath.

Hyewon fucking collapses.

It's a dangerous combination, having her begging and you nearly fully clothed while she's wearing barely more than this thin strip of black silk around her waist and a stocking on one leg, but you can't help it - she looks good this way.

"Fuck," she spits out, voice lost when your hips find hers in this wet, sloppy crash of skin that gets louder, faster and more punishing on each beat. "Like that, oh my God-"

Her whimpering only gets worse - when you start only pulling out halfway, until she's gasping like she can't breathe. You think there isn't a more wonderful, more obscene, more gorgeous thing than Hyewon spread out in front of you - the curve of her spine defining each and every one of the lines, dips, and rises of her body - and you would thank God or some higher deity right about now.

It’s fuck and please and every other little pliant utterance of “fuck my brains out, use me, make me beg, I'm so turned on right now I'll let you fuck me anyway you want - harder, faster, I can do whatever, just show me how, make me, push and fuck me hard until I'm raw and aching - god - like this, let me cum, please, let me - keep fucking going, oh my god, please, like this, fuck, just like this-"

You do thank God, actually - there's mirrors everywhere in this room, and you can catch the circular swing of her tits every time you force a curse and a sigh out of her: the bared teeth and the effort to push herself back on her arms, bracing for every thrust, fighting and fumbling to keep her balance and to make sure you have to pound her into the mattress until her cries reach a pitch.

Then, the thing you'd learned she'd never ask for but oh-so-dearly-wanted - you open your palm and bring it down hard on her backside. The impact of your flesh to hers, a crack, a moan and her whole body flexes - and it's then you do it again: matching the hit to the visible red outline of your handprint. The third time, she hisses, biting into the bed sheets so as not to cry out.

"Right? This is what you want? To be fucked and used?"

She doesn't reply with words, because she may in fact be biting her teeth into the cotton threadcount at the end of the bed, but she lifts her ass higher, angles her hips like she's waiting for more. Her brow is creased in a smile, even though a frustrated groan escapes her lips - so you give her that again, and again, until the back of her thighs are turning red and she's clawing one hand back along the length of your legs - pushing and pulling.

"You want me to fuck you senseless, sweetheart?"

And then, so needy and desperate she's just saying the first word that come to mind:

"More-"

"-when I've been railing into you so hard and your husband probably knows already, has to have seen, maybe he's listening at the door- oh," and your whole train of thought comes to a sudden halt upon seeing Hyewon's hand land on the perfect round of her ass, fingers pulling her soft, reddening skin taut, up and away from where your cock is disappearing between her cheeks - to allow more of your shaft into her hot, wet cunt - allow you to fuck her and fuck her up - allow the length of your shaft to slide deeper and hit all the spots that will send her reeling into this orgasm and the next.

Your gaze is stuck however, not to her curves rippling in excess, the damage of your thrusts pounding her body to ruin, or the look of flawless pleasure twisting up the pretty features of Hyewon's reflection, but instead it's the fucking flash and catch of the diamond that adorns her fourth finger. Even when you have her completely helpless, bent on your mercy, she's still wearing that promise, that intention to have and to hold, and you think, for at least a second, this whole roleplay thing isn't the worst idea: being a surrogate to fulfill someone's wildest fantasies. It might even be enough to make you hard all over again - the thrill and the debasement of your girl, lines quickly blurring between the Hyewon you'll take home and put back together and the Hyewon you're fucking pouding into a mattress - the here and now.

"Fuck, Hyewon," you find yourself swearing - steadying the hips rolling back in your palms, bending down until the flat of your chest meets her back, until your nose is in her hair, the long strands sticking to her lips and the back of her ears. Until you feel her shaking as you suckle against her skin, at her neck, hot kisses between the shoulder blades, finding a grip in her hands. Her grip in yours - as she's muffling these exquisite, needy sounds; she is perfect. Hyewon is perfect.

The first time you cum, it's this hot splatter of white: smeared across her ass and the crease of her lower back. It feels almost dirty to think that's just how you feel about it; your heart is stuttering in its erratic pace, but your eyes are drawn and enraptured, the sight of it all.

Then second, maybe your favorite: when she slips her hand to your aching shaft and simply takes you back inside her. This soft, wet, inviting heat that pulls you back to her.

"God- please," her head tips back, you feel the arch of her back through her ribs and stomach, the way her breath catches as you slide your cock through her creamed-out-cunt so much harder and smoother. "It feels so fucking good, baby," and there are tears now, welling in the corner of her eyes, "don't stop, God don't ever stop-"

She can barely finish her sentence before she's cut off, a moan ripped from the bottom of her lungs and a gasp straight from the pain-pleasure that has your balls slapping against her pussy every other stroke. And suddenly she's sitting, or rather, squirming into your arms, her face buried in your shoulders as she starts riding you, and not-quite crying and saying again - again, the whole filthy lot of things: about her wanting you to fill her, to plug her up with your cock. Every thrust she whines in your ears, clutching onto the fabric of your shirt and making a mess of herself in you.

It's this wild and reckless thing that makes its way around the room, on every surface and bit of furniture. You fuck her over the counter, let her ride you on the sofa, the chair, the two of you managing to find some sort of assistance in the wall even, the door frame, her legs up your sides and the slippery-sticky-heat of your mouths connecting and everything that isn't exactly meant to support that kind of strain buckling and nearly giving way - once when the wooden joints in the door-frame shift, once when she begs for release in that frantic voice that doesn't sound a thing like her. And the way she comes apart under you after, on top of you - is even sweeter; you imagine there's this endless possibility for love, for pleasure, a whole world in bundled in the notion that you could do it for her again, that it was always a question of Hyewon letting you have her that way, and the rest was mere foreplay - a stretch.

Only, on the bed again, Hyewon shivers beneath you, this full-body response, and you've got her stretched as she opens up - that the slightest of movements has her already whimpering out "fuck," and "please," and "right there," and "fuck you're going to make me come like this. You're so good, just fucking," and "more, harder, please, you feel so fucking good-"

The desperation for release is so palpable in her that it's curling into your stomach as your press Hyewon's knees into the points and edges of her shoulders and fold in her half - this perfect angle of leverage. Fucking her like she's yours and no one else's - the absolute delight of her cunt, wet, hot, and desperate to milk you empty - her body quaking at the force of each thrust, and the hungry grind of your hips into hers. Her fingers digging and knotting in the sheets around you until her knuckles pale, and your own grasp on her skin threatens to bruise.

"Inside me," she gasps out, because she can feel that edge just as well as you, "I want you to fill me, just cum inside, God, you always feel so amazing, fuck, like that, cum inside me, cum in me-"

"How could I say no, especially when you ask so sweetly," you tell her, kissing into her smile, "can you take another? Baby, look at me, look into my eyes, yeah? Look right back at me."

Her eyes blink and roll back a bit, almost losing focus and her eyelashes flutter - the creases in her brow, the elegant lines of her face locking up in the overwhelming tension, then, a peak.

And a demand, meekly asking you to fill her up. Until there's nothing left. "Cum," Hyewon moans, "for the love of fuck-"

You push her past her climax until she's practically weeping, sobbing through a litany of nonsense and slurred, unfinished sentences and almost howls, struggling beneath your weight and coaxing her fingers over the surge at the base of your spine. Before a hot liquid mess bursts out of you, into the deepest reach of Hyewon's throbbing cunt - cumming inside her, while you hold her down, not allowing her to move as your hips lock and you're both left groaning in utter agony.

(This was the thing you'd told her once - cumming inside her was almost always worth the effort it took to clean it all back out. You like the possessive aspect of it, maybe the slight humiliation, and more than anything, she'll just melt: once she's gone past the immediate discomfort. If anyone could really learn to get off on feeling a little filthy, it's the two of you. And she knows that too, Hyewon's eager little pout intimates, as she blinks down to watch where the two of you connect.)

You don't say much for the next while. If there's a line where this particular escapade blends back into your normal life, where the Hyewon curled up in the sheets is your own girl and not some half-conceived entity that didn't fit the reality of the rest of the evening, or how you see Hyewon everyday, even then, it’s not clear.

She's utterly boneless - this fragile, dazed thing that runs her palms all the way around her breasts and pulls up her stockings a little further up the line of her hips, as if you weren't going to peel them back and slip them all the way off when you had the wherewithal to handle it. But the strength in her isn't entirely lost either, she looks ready to burst: this air of pride and smugness - victory, right in her grin, which isn't totally surprising. Hyewon usually gets an odd satisfaction out of your participation in whatever hedonistic or obscene thing it is she wants to try.

This was her fantasy - maybe not a deeply rooted or unattainable one, but she'd worked out some kinks of hers and has walked away a far better woman for it, knowing what a sight she is to you. Like this.

"That was... fun," Hyewon eventually says, collecting articles of clothing strewn about the room.

Her shoes are one of two sets in the shoe-rack, but she'll have to look around and under the bed to find her dress. It would probably be some strange level of easy to play dumb and wait until she comes to the conclusion on her own that she should bend down and check down there, but she looks a little too worn out to really be interested in her clothes, more like, ready for the next part.

"We should do it again," her gaze lands, intent, and serious, back to you.

"Which part?" you have to ask, because you're probably still, a little slow on the uptake.

A small laugh, the sly smirk to herself; she knows she has you wrapped so perfectly around her finger, ready to bend to whatever game she can come up with: "whichever part you like."

[starsturni]

can’t wait *- chris

analysis: when it's your first time meeting chris's brothers, you're obviously scared about messing anything up. maybe chris can help calm your nerves?

song: so i was listening to 'timeless" by the weeknd because idk it js gives chris vibes, lol!

wc: 1k

warnings: fingering, p in v, semipublic sex, cursing, car sex, praise kind, and degradation kink! <333

as we arrive at the busy resturant, i sigh, mumbling to him. "do we really need to be here?" his fingers impatiently tapping on the steering wheel.

he smiles softly, touching my thigh softly. "look, i know you're worried, at least matt is paying?" he says, attempting to lighten the mood.

i scoff playfully as we park, seeing nate step out of his car a few spots over, "that makes a difference."

we both unbuckle, the steady beat of the previous song stopping as he turns off the car.

he sees me sitting, knawing on my freshly manicured nails. he frowns slightly, seeing my distressed figure.

he gently prys my wrist away from my mouth. "baby, you can tell me what's up?" i frown, sighing softly. "what if i make a total fool of myself?"

he softly massages my hand subconsiously "baby, you'll be okay, i promise? they won't judge you." you smile softly. "pinky swear?" i stick my pinky finger out.

he smiles back. "pinky swear."

"plus, we have extra time for you to be able to calm down." he adds.

i notice the way he glances at my glossed over lips, slightly wet from the amount of nibbling on the skin. he then leans in, softly kissing me.

i gladly return the favor, it becoming more and more passionate. his big hands come and cradle my face, the size difference making the moment even more heated. our tongues intertwine, fighting for dominance. i let him win.

not that i'm exactly upset.

we both pull away, needing air.

without exchanging words. we clammer into the backseat, me giggling as i see him struggling to get his feet past the middle console.

his face cracks slightly, a small smile forming at my happiness, even during moments like this.

our expressions immediately change after chris reaches the back seat. his lips latch onto my neck, erecting a pretty moan out of me, the sounds chris loves.

i feel his lips curve into a smirk against my skin as his kisses and nibbles travel to the crook of my neck, him inhaling, smelling my light scent of vanilla perfume.

he groans quietly, slipping his slender fingers under my light pink skirt, finding his way to my damp panties.

his fingers swipe through my slick, feeling my arousal.

he takes the fingers to my mouth, looking at me expectantly. "suck." i obediently wrap my soft lips around his fingers, swirling my tongue around the pads of his fingertips.

his eyes never leave mine, his black jeans tightening at the sight and sounds of the soft slurping.

he pulls his fingers away, going back down past my waist, inserting two fingers through my dripping folds, burying them against my gummy walls.

i let out a soft moan, clenching around him. "oh fuck." i say, letting out a breathless moan. he curls his fingers such a certain angle that makes shivers go down my spine.

i cry out, "o-oh my god, chris!!" my loud whimpers flood the small space of the backseat.

"please, i want you so fucking badly." he smirks at my begging.

"of course baby, don't worry." he mumbles to me, unbuttoning his pants, shuffling them down his knees then ankles, kicking them off.

his obvious bulge showed, outlining his hard length with a small wet patch from precum. i eagerly tug off his boxers, his length spinging up, hitting just above his lower abdomen.

as i start to slip off my skirt, chris's hands overtake mine, doing the job for me. he gently pulls my panties to the side, pumping himself a few times before carefully and slowly sliding his girthy length into my velvet walls.

we collectively let out soft groans, my own coming out from pain and pleasure. i hiss softly, him slowing his movements.

"you okay baby?" he leans forward, softly kissing and nibbling on the back of my earlobe.

"mhm.." i softly hum. he continues kissing on my ear and neck as he slowly pushes himself deeper into my cunt. i moan softly, the simple sound reassuring him.

he then slowly bucks his hips, pulling almost all the out the the tip before burying himself deep into me.

"such a pretty girl, getting all slutty on my dick.." my moans are covered by my right hand, still trying to have some dignity and privacy, though anyone could figure out what was going on in the car just by looking at its movements.

"ohhh fuck, baby you feel so tight, shit." he groans out, his hand grip on my hips could be bruising at this point.

the sound of our conjoined moans and the sinful sounds of skin on skin roughly fills the area of the car.

he roughly slams into me, changing us into a different position with my hands pressed against the glass, his grabbing the mounds on my chest.

as we change our position, he hits new angles and points i didn't know i even had. his tip perfectly taps against my sweet spot, his fingers rushing to my sensitive and puffy clit, repeatedly rubbing it.

"c-chris i can't!" i moan out desperately, my eyes stamped shut.

"let go f'me baby.." he coos out, wanting me to finish first, always.

as i feel my high coming, i let all of my help back moans out, the sheer force of my orgasm having me shook.

"c-chris i'm gonna cum!" my legs almost give out, my orgasm causing arousal to drip down on chris's length as i call out his name.

"chris, oh my fuck!!" he helps me ride out my orgasm as he is about at his breaking point. he lets out a loud groan, collapsing onto me as i feel his thick white spurts coat my insides.

as we lay down together, catching our breaths, his fingers softly toy with my hair, pulling slicked strands with sweat away from my face.

"you did so good baby...you okay?" he says, looking softly into my eyes, his tone sweet, a far comparison from a few minutes ago.

"yeah..you did so good chris.." he smiles softly at my words.

just then, chris's phone buzzes, his screen lighting up. as he peeks at it, it's matt.

'when you guys are done, hurry the fuck up, our seats are about to be given up.'

again, sorry if this is like horrible, im just getting into writing!! :)

xoxo - starsturni

[luveline]

𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐞𝐛 —send me an established relationship request for any reader and any character and I'll write a ficlet, 1k or less

reader pulling Hotch in by his belt loops trying to break the ice after they get into a disagreement

luveline's 40k party ☆ tysm for requesting! vaguely suggestive. fem!reader

You know why you argued, but you kinda wish he'd stop being mad. You're not mad anymore, and he's the one who started it so he should be the one to raise the white flag. Maybe. It was only a little fight! 

You sigh dramatically. Hotch doesn't budge, wiping down dishes with a cloth one by one. 

"I'm sorry," you say, your third apology overall. 

"It's fine." He smiles from over his shoulder. You believe him, but he's still put out. You understand not everyone can move from an argumentative mood into a happy one quickly and try not to worry about it much longer, though the urge to kiss his scratchy jaw has its hooks in you. 

You put away the plates after he's dried them and figure you'll just have to go for it. While he's not paying attention, you slip your finger into the snug of his belt loop and pull him toward you. He wraps his arm around your shoulder rather than elbow you, looking down at you with a mixture of nearly hidden surprise and pleasure. He tries very hard to keep a straight face. 

"Hey, baby," you say, "you come here often?" 

"I'm still annoyed," he says, warmth creeping into his voice.

"Yes, well. Me too. But I like you more than I'm annoyed at you and I'd really like to kiss you, so… can I?" 

Hotch looks down at your hand in his belt loop and does that thing older guys do, a sound between a scoff and a laugh with a nod to seal the deal. "I suppose." 

"Oh, you suppose," you say, leaning up to kiss his chin, your following words smothered in his skin, "you would suppose, Hotchner, you're such a supposer."

He laughs again and you glow, sure it had been a weak joke. His smile twitches under your lips as you kiss him, and his hand cups the back of your neck. Forgiven. 

"Sorry," he says between kisses. It's low but impossible to miss, and his tone is sincere. "I'm not trying to be unreasonable." 

"You're very reasonable. And you can make it up to me, if you like." You blink your eyes open to meet his dark gaze, smiling as his hand slinks down the curve of your back.

"Should I pull at your jeans?" he asks. His finger curves into your belt loop, his hand angled further down. 

You lean in for another kiss. "Yes, please." 

[lotuseye]

KINKTOBER 2024, I DIDN'T CHANGE MY NUMBER.

don't take it out on me, i'm out of sympathy for you. maybe you should leave, before i get too mean and take it out on you ( and your best friend too! )

suguru geto & satoru gojo. it was so, so difficult to put up with satoru sometimes- especially when every 9 of the 10 words that left his mouth was lies and excuses. in a particularly rough patch where there seems to be a whose-d*ck-is-bigger contest between the two stubborn idiots, she runs into geto in the bar they frequent and decides he deserves an earful for enabling gojo to be atrocious- but a torture can come in various forms, can't it?

word   count:   6902.

genre:   one-shot, kinktober product.

characters:   suguru geto & satoru gojo & reader.

notes:   hi so this is an insane idea that i could not help but write. satoru being a bad boyfriend. suguru being an even worse friend. pr*ise. degr*dation. kind of ch*king. car s*x. pet names. mean dom!gojo. submissive leaning p*ssydrunk switch!geto. switch!reader. dont even perceive me with this one i have no clue how we got here even.

“ you are such an… such an asshole.” 

“ and your learning curve is horizontal, sweetness- i don’t recall you leavin’ me.” 

the liar, the bitch and the master manipulator, she hated every single bone in satoru’s body. 

well, except the one he was burying her to the sheets with. 

the same old unfinished story of broken promises, it is a rinse and repeat now with the vibrant colors of their relationship is diluting in the waters of exhaustion and exasperation. oh it was limitless alright, the number of times he could have let her free fall from the tallest skyscraper of tokyo and be forgiven with how he catches her right before the fall, a honeyed coo or two in her ear. no language on the face of earth is adequate when it comes to explaining the way satoru exists on the axis of the world he’s tilted, but the words detached & displaced are the first ones that come to mind. she is simply one of the many things bound to be lost in the infinity between him and the space he occupies, a hard-swallowed pill that she couldn’t still digest even when he had his veined hands splayed on the curve of her hips, his steel of a bicep pressing against her throat as the bed rhythmically creaked beneath them. 

it felt too good, and he knew it- he knew he had her when she left that airy sigh into the pillow she had been drooling in with the spot he found without effort, he knew he had her when she preened underneath him with her shoulderblades against his ribs. it’s lazy, lazier than satoru usually indulges in, his hips maintaining an angle that let him bully the spongy g-spot tucked between the snug walls with such fervor that he has her reeling with each languid thrust. his damp locks are tickling the nape of her neck, the beads of sweat collecting at the conjunction of their limbs, wetting the already messed sheets. she can hear each grunt, each breath of his, feel it vibrate in her chest. the same old tale, he does something rancid enough to piss her off and then instead of an apology he fucks her until she forgot what she was mad about in the first place, but like any trick, it has a point where the audience tires of the repetitive schemes. 

“my baby’s pissed at me, huh? would ya’ look at that. ” he coos, his mouth pressed against the junction of her jugular and her neck, his mouth wet. she has no choice but to listen, no choice but to take it- he doesn’t leave anywhere for her to escape, having her stuck beneath the mattress and his heavy figure, with her throat sitting tight and cozy in the crook of the arm he has wrapped around her neck like a shackle. her maroon nails are digging into his sinewy forearm until crescent moons shine with a painful pink color and it is not only a rightful response to the merciless pounding, but also a subconscious punishment, a silent outlet of her anger.

satoru doesn’t like that. 

the position shifts, the man atop her whining rather dramatically before his weight lifts off of her. “ naughty girl, so ungrateful.” he chastises breathlessly, and just when she thinks she’s free of the torment she can’t stop cumming from, he yanks her up by the fat of her hips, propping her up on her knees but her attempts to rise on her hands is strictly prohibited, satoru lets out a “ tch tch,” as he catches both her wrists in one large palm to cross them on the small of her back, right in the middle of the twin dimples before his empty hand grasps the nape of her neck and push her face into the sage green, satin pillowcase she had been moaning into few moments ago, burying himself to the hilt in one go simultaneously. “ this is why we can’t have nice things,” he clicks his tongue, and she can almost see the way his eyes roll to the back of his skull, all educated deductions from the way he speaks through his gritted teeth. complain he might, but he cannot deny that he lives for the thrill of her, lives for the thrill of having her in his bed, the taste of cherry lipgloss stuck in the back of his throat and her laughter his favorite siren song. “ because you don’t appreciate ‘em, baby.” 

“ don’t even start-” she groans, and his hips snap harsher the next time as a silent yet effective method of shutting her up, liking her pliant and obedient as always. “ sorry, what was that?” he leans over, asking with a faux undertone of surprise in his tone. “ can’t hear you over the sound of her, babe,” he pulls out temporarily, just to bring his palm down for a hard smack on her swollen cunt, only pleased when he hears her cry out and shudder to grasp the base of his painfully hard cock and nudge it right back inside her to resume. “ wanna’ repeat that f’ me?” 

but she can’t, her vision already having painted white as she stiffens and seizes with a whimper choked on her throat, clenching around satoru impossibly as her climax pulls her right under the crashing wave, a steady ringing in her ear that deafens her briefly- she can call him every single name under the sun and he’d deserve each one of them, but she cannot deny that the bastard has a way of pushing her to the brink of feelings & sensations she didn’t know was possible. it’s what makes it all so alluring, it’s what makes her heart swell with the ease of familiar affection when he follows her almost immediately, his hips slapping against the back of her thighs faster as he falters, the feeling of wet ropes fill her to the brim a one that makes her toes curl, a nice warmth spreading through her system. 

“ why are you adamantly trying to get me to leave you?” she asks, breathless, rolling to her back- her knees hurt, and she’s definitely pulled a muscle in her neck with how strained it feels. the heel of her palm presses against the junction of her neck and shoulder, rubbing in idle motions to alleviate it a bit. she watches him collapse next to her, just as breathless, his tongue darting out to lick his dry lips, snowy lashes fluttering with exhaustion, gaze heavy lidded. “ didn’t i tire you enough? ” he mutters but she doesn’t need to know him as well as she does to hear the whiny undertone. he blindly reaches through the sheets to find her warmth next to him, yank her to his chest without paying any mind to the way she yelps, and nuzzle his face against her spine. “ you talk too much, go to sleep.”

it had been a long shot, but at least she wouldn’t say that she didn’t try. “ get off of me,” she sighs, exasperated more than anything as she pushes satoru’s heavy arm to slide further away in the sheets. still drowsy & a bit lightheaded but still not relaxed or prideless enough to fall asleep next to him. “ ‘m gonna’ go take a shower.” 

oh, that gets his attention. his head slightly lifting from the sheets, he watches her go, wearing nothing but his shirt. “ can i come?”

the only response he gets is the door that slams shut on his face.

****

she hadn’t expected suguru to be home. by the time she takes a stroll to the kitchen with her damp hair tucked in a soft towel, having switched back to her own clothes to deprive satoru of the pleasure of seeing her in his own clothes, adorned in a pair of rust nike shorts and a hot pink crop top. she finds suguru by the stove, cooking something that smells like thyme with his headphones on. she would have snuck her head in to get a good sniff of the pot, but since sneaking up on someone who is handling a hot pan while wearing headphones is never a good idea, she makes her way to the fridge as intended. he notices her by the shadow that falls on the counter, pulling the headphones down to his neck. “ hey there,” he greets, simple as he spares her a single glance. he doesn’t need to look at her twice to imagine what went down, sighing before turning to his meal.

“ i can feel you judging me,” she says as she pulls the bottle of milk out before closing it shut with a sway of her hips. suguru snorts. “ i am.” 

ever the honest.

“ you don’t get to,” she comments simply as she occupies the same counter he’s cooking in. their shared apartment having memorized by now, she pushes on the side of his head slowly to avoid him hitting his forehead on the cabinet she pulls open ( thinking about it, maybe she should have let it hit him ) to get the coffee she had been desperately craving. she releases him a moment later, putting the coffee jar on the counter. like the calm before the storm. “ you’re the one who told me he was home when he was out with the bitches, if my memory isn’t failing me.” she states thoughtfully as she licks the spoon she delved into the coffee jar earlier. “ and you were the one who told me not to worry when i, in fact, should have been worrying.” 

suguru sighs, clearly discontent to be in the conversation but too bad- he wasn’t discontent when he was lying straight to her face. her gaze is keener than a knife when she turns it on him, the smile that curls on the corners of her mouth is cold enough to look cruel. “ you’re a disappointing friend, suguru.” she comments, her tone sing-song-y enough to sound eerie. too serious and unserious at the same time, like his mistake was spilling her favorite coffee on the floor or forgetting to pick up groceries on his way home. “ and you’re not one bit innocent.” 

“ don’t get me involved in your shit,” he exhales, keeping his gaze on the pan- chicken pesto & rice, hm. delicious. what a pity she felt too nauseous to take a bite. “ it’s not my responsibility to keep your deranged man in check, satoru is the way he is and you know it.” he places a large palm on top of her head but not ruffling her hair, instead bending over a bit unnecessarily to get down on eye level with her, his voice reeking of condescension. “ aren’t we a little too old to be blaming others for our bad life decisions, missy? ” she smiles at him, as sweet as a plum. “ fuck you, suguru.” 

he grins. “ oh, i’d bet you wish. ” 

***

it has been two months without satoru, two months with letting his calls go to voice mail or turning the flowers away from her doorstep. he’s using every trick in the book, from the gifts to the soft epilogues he is murmuring into the mic in the late hours of the night, hoarse and truthful but satoru’s truth as subjective as it can be- his emotions shift with the weather, and so does his intentions. his detachment applies to his ability to hold onto his promises, and the last couple of years he had not learned from his mistakes or her pleading, and she doesn’t necessarily deem herself the teacher he loves being. it’s not in her nature to be coddling a man that is not getting the message, at least not without making him regret every bit of a wrong he’s done her. 

early 2010s are playing in the club that smells like pot & cigarettes & sweat, the fog of everything & anything that’s been smoked blurring in her gaze and dimming the moving purple & pink of the lights, coating the glitter on her cheeks prettiest of technicolors. four martinis in, she’s feeling the buzz in the marrow of her bones, not drunk enough to be stumbling on her feet but drunk enough to not try to see satoru’s white head in the packed crowd. the soles of her butterfly shoes are hitting the back of her ankles, and the polyester of her cheap dress is sticking to her damp skin in ways uncomfortable enough to assure her she definitely is getting a rash the next day. still, it is not nearly as bad as the urge to check her phone every twenty minutes to see if he’s texted. he probably has, and not that she’d text him back, but still it was a reassurance of its own to know that she occupied his thoughts. it was hard, for someone like satoru, to stay focused without drifting away. she’s even surprised he seems to have object permanence altogether. 

just when her tired feet are dragging her to the bar for a refill of her empty martini glass, a similar figure draws her attention. the oversized black sweater that’s ridiculously loose on his shoulder, the fresh wolfcut, the black circle earrings and the cargo pants that also sit nonchalant on his waist and that goddamn manspread. he’s been staring at her. 

if he was here…

“ the pot and its lid, how lovely.” her smile is forced when she leans over him, to the bar, yelling inaudibly over a loud remix of lady gaga for a refill, trying to contain her suddenly restless heart in her ribs, over the prospect of satoru popping out of somewhere to tap her on the shoulder with his disgustingly saccharine smile, sticking a tongue out through his perfect teeth. her knees feel weak and the alcohol is not the only culprit. suguru chuckles, taking another sip of his own drink, neat whiskey as usual. “ he’s not here.” 

thank fucking god. she breathes, and he takes the sight in, nursing his whiskey, slowly twirling the glass with leisure movements of his wrist. “ you want me to call him?” he asks, mocking, teasing. she doesn’t give him the reaction he probably had been pulling and poking around for, instead waiting patiently with her elbows on the counter, a little bent, her midsection resting on suguru’s knee. she’s too occupied in her thoughts to notice it, but he’s not. though, it remains a silent acknowledgement. “ no,” she tells him, mouthing a thank you to the bartender before she turns to suguru eventually, her blue eyeliner having smudged around the corner of her eyes. he offers a grin. “ why, you here with someone? ” he shakes his head at the possibility of that being true, accompanied by a disapproving sound. “ don’t let him know, princess- he can dish it out but he can’t take it. such is the man, your boyfriend. ” the cynical undertone is laughable, so she does- it is swallowed by the slender glass in her hands. “ look at the one talking,” she gestures, amused. suguru shrugs, his head tipping back with the big sip to down the rest of his whiskey, adam’s apple bobbing and the chain that shines distracts her, gleaming under the now red hues. “ jus’ saying,” he shrugs. “ i know him. and you know him. don’t understand why you’re so obsessive over things you know that ain’t good for ya’.” 

well, that had been a little too real than what she expected. she blinks, her expression shifting into one of confusion and of restlessness- a question she cannot answer truly, as she herself is yet to discover the big revelation. instead, her limbs retract, the ghost of a smile playing on the corner of her mouth. “ careful, suguru.” she muses, words laced with honey but not without the sting. “ you don’t know me like that. you don’t know me at all, actually. ” how would he, when all he has seen of her was her reflection created in satoru’s image? he hasn’t known her the way satoru or even shoko did. he knew her as the girl satoru couldn’t treat right a day in his life yet the girl he simply was too entranced to move on from. 

his expression remains untouched, but a twitch at the corner of his mouth catches her eye. “ you’re here for him,” he says, without an attempt to correct her. “ you’re wearing that skimpy little dress for him. you’re drinking, laughing, dancing- for him. and he’s not even here.” it feels like a dare, the way his shoulders move, how he leans back. “ what a shame.” her ears are burning, the root of her hair red, and the flush on her cheeks is reeking of shame. she feels exposed, at the way suguru pecks at her open wounds without a care- but she asked for it, didn’t she? she stills, then leans, until both of her hands press against the cold edge of the marble counter, caging suguru in. she can smell the whiskey on his breath, can smell the cologne he wears, earthy and woody, lacking the sharp scents satoru uses. he leans back in his stool, carefully curated expression watching every single movement of hers to see what she’s after, decipher the secret message except there is no secret message- she’s angry, and she feels like a lesson has been due by yesterday. 

“ and you’re here for me,” she says eventually, cracking into an eerie smile with the dawning of the revelation. “ oh, suguru, you sneaky bastard,” she can’t help the airy chuckle that escapes her, her eyes having widened with something she’s found in the poker face he had been wearing. he is good at this but so is she. “ you’ve almost had me, gotta’ give it to ya’.” she coos, mingled with mockery in the worst way possible as her head cranes aside, withdrawing to take a good look at him. “ who knew?”

he laughs, the tormenter that he is, and it’s pretty. has it always been this pretty, or is the newfound depth to dabble in make her see him in a light she hasn’t before? “ please,” he snorts, shaking his head, asking the bartender for a refill and tossing his empty glass on the counter. he makes no moves to get out of her symbolic cage, pretty content to be sitting where he is, a knowing look painting him more annoying than he already is- but how could he not be, with the pretty girl lodged between his knees? satoru’s girl, at that. or not. that part was always confusing, even for them. “ i’m flattered, but you’re… not my type.” he finds the words he had been looking for eventually, clicking his tongue with satisfaction. “ i don’t like ‘em as whiny and loudmouthed as you.” she can’t tell if he’s joking or not, can’t tell why the room went up a hundred degrees all of a sudden. “ do me a favor and pick up the next time he calls, yeah?” he murmurs, digging around for something she assumes to be a cigarette, no longer focused on her. “ he’s been nagging like a bitch all day, ‘m tired of it. we both know you’re not going anywhere.” 

she didn’t think it was possible to despise someone as much as she did satoru, but suguru is full of surprises. even if he is not able to find that one particular vein satoru adores pressing with the soles of his pretty, expensive shoes, he finds a completely different one- condescension dripping off his mouth, that lazy stare boiling the blood in her veins. he deems her not worthy of him, whiny and loudmouthed. 

she kisses him just for that. 

it is short, it is confused- it is filled with the urge to prove something, unsure to herself or to him. he tastes like whiskey & mint and it burns the back of her throat, and for a brief moment, he parts his lips, to which she takes as an invitation to push her tongue in and lick at the roof of his mouth as her hands grasp the collar of his hoodie. 

it is short because suguru breaks it, his hands on her elbows, eyes widened and the cherry hue of her lipgloss smudged on his lower lip with the saliva that it shines with. “ ‘m not the revenge you want,” he warns, perhaps the most serious thing he’s said to her that night- but she lacks the fucks to give. “ shut the fuck up,” she says in return instead, before pushing him incessantly to return to the bittersweet taste she had been craving before it even died on her tongue. this time, suguru doesn’t reel back or stop. this time, his tentative hands slide around the small of her exposed back, pulling her flush against him as his teeth sinks into her plush lip. it’s dizzying, how he kisses the breath out of her lungs, and how it sets a dozen fireworks in her ribs. 

“ oh, fuck, i can’t- he’ll kill me,”  the sentiment returns, and she doesn’t remember hearing him so desperate in her life- doesn’t remember hearing him so out of breath and pleading, a begging more to himself than her as he rests his forehead on her temple and draws in heavy breaths like it might make him want her less. it doesn’t. satoru doesn’t plead the way he does, doesn’t look at her with the same pathetic insurmountable need in his eyes. maybe it’s what makes her bold enough to push her thigh between his knees, watching the way his jaw falls slack, slender fingers tightening on her hips as if he can’t decide if he wants to stop her or not. “ you’ve been lying to me for him long enough,” she murmurs, hot and breathless into his mouth, watching every single way his face contorts with shame and pleasure like a hawk through heavy lidded eyes. “ time to lie for me, sugu.” 

it’s how they end up in the back of her car- with her perched atop suguru’s large thighs, moaning into each other’s mouths, raven locks bunched in her incessant palm and his hands splayed out on her thighs. it’s sloppier than anything, and all she can think about is how utterly beautiful he is, with his heavy breathing he is pointless trying to regulate and the way he keeps clutching at her, ridden with guilt & lust at the same time. she doesn’t carry the same concern as he does, doesn’t care about satoru- not in the way she should, at least. it was time he stopped underestimating her. it was time he stopped believing her lack of retaliation on his bullshit was because she thought he could be a better person than he was, not because she was weak enough to stay. she only realizes her mistake now, how wrong it was of her to try to handle things the way adults did- but forfeiting grudges, by trying to forgive and communicate. he mistook her kindness. he thought her sweet, thought her all bark no bite.

but looks could be deceiving.

no clothes are coming undone, but suguru is half unraveled underneath her thighs. “ look at you,” she says in pure admiration, catching his chin between the knuckle of her index finger and her thumb, tilting his head to her liking- which is straight at her, having no choice but to see the diabolical grin that turns her into something he has never put his hands on before. something he wouldn’t know what to do with, if he had. “ whiny and loudmouthed, you said?” she quotes, and a single shift of her hips is enough to drown out any response he might have, to which he responds with a grunt of restraint and a kiss harsher than loving. “ shut up,” he kisses it on her teeth, and she has no objections to that. his presence is overwhelming. it’s unusual, the attachment that comes along- suguru is intense in a way she cannot define to be good or bad. so explore she does, tilting the corner of his jaw with a stubborn push from her nose, teeth grazing at his jugular. she can feel the way his breath hitches, feel the way he twitches. he attempts to take control of the situation by manhandling her on his lap, squeezing the fat of her hips in his palms with a grunt as he forces her into movement. the sticky material of her long drenched panties stick to her, the zipper of his pants getting caught at her clit and making her jolt with each drag. it gives him a momentary release from her evil clutches, but it is questionable how it can be considered relief when he has that drunk look on his face, jaw setting with a low grunt. “ such a fucking slut,” he whispers it against the column of her throat, freeing one hand to resume the movement by lazy & languid rolls of his hips, having her gasp on top of him, boneless on his lap. “ grinding on me because your boyfriend just can’t act right, huh? is this how you get back on him? ” 

she nods, even if she doesn’t want to, too caught up in the way he pseudo-fucks her, unhurried and devoid of any rush- like they had hours to spend in the back of her car. his pants might be deceiving her, but even the outline of him pressing against her is enough to have her mouth watering for the real deal, satoru half forgotten in suguru’s warm lap. his fingertips trail beneath the hem of her blue skirt, and they dance around the edge of her panties without ever getting to business. she squirms, desperate for a taste of something she can’t go back from, but his hold is a one of steel- “ if you want something, you’re gonna have to say it,” he murmurs, his mouth brushing hers without properly kissing her, each thrust making her jolt on his knees. she melts halfway, face contorted in pressure. “ are you this much of a headache for satoru too, or is it special f’ me?” 

that does it, her lower lip trembling as she rests against his chest, hips lazily grinding back into his to keep up with the delicious rhythm that has her seeing stars before anything. the fingers that now ghost over the damp spot of her underwear is her undoing. “ performance anxiety, sugu baby?” she lets a breathless, airy chuckle, accompanied by a sweet aw she manages to utter. “ don’t worry, i’ll guide yo-ohhhh shit,” he tucks her words back into her mouth without batting an eye, he’s good like that, of course he is. there is nothing to be questioned in his abilities to touch a girl, it seems- he doesn’t struggle as he slips underneath the wet fabric and plunges two fingers deep inside her, the sudden intrusion sending an electric jolt down her spine. for a moment, it becomes so, so hard to speak, toes curling in the pretty heels satoru has gotten them as an apology gift for one of his many fuckups. she doesn’t think suguru would like to know that. 

“ sorry, you were sayin’ somethin’?” he hums, a pleased, toothy smile tugging his mouth upwards as he takes in the sight of her squirming on his lap to handle the pressure. he brings an end to those wiggly hips by pressing the forearm that has been on her thigh even harder to pin her nice & tight. “ uh uh, don’t run away from me, now, you wanted this, remember? ” he tuts, still keeping his slow grind her swollen bud as his fingers pump leisurely in & out. “ suguru,” she shudders, gripping the car seat behind him just to be able to have some sort of anchor but even that is failing her. suguru is an asshole of his own kind, so instead of easing up on her, he tugs on the lace ribbons of her dress with his teeth, like an animal, just so he can nuzzle his nose between the valley of her breasts. he’s not as chatty as satoru, it turns out. not as hurried either- it’s not the same rush, not the same avid sense of detachment. this is not turning out the way she expected it to, not the mindless fuck she had been going after just so she could see the look on satoru’s face when she told him she fucked his best friend. 

“ mhm, i see what’s got him so hooked alright,” he reveals to himself, half mesmerized and half amused, an afterthought as he drags his tongue on the velvety edge of her dress, dipping it underneath. “ i’d be tweaking too, if i fumbled this.” the this he is talking about is not her sparkling personality, she assumes, but it has her chuckling breathlessly anyway. it’s one thing to be wanted by satoru who wants everything he can get his hands on all the time, but it is another to be wanted by suguru who seems to want nothing at all. well, except the girl he lied to the face of repeatedly. just for that she thinks of leaving him blue-balled, but all thoughts flee her mind once his teeth catches her hardened nipple and his fingers crook in that delicious way, pulsating around his fingers as the tight coil in her guts snap. 

she doesn’t realize the buildup, nearly panicking with how sudden it all crashes into her- eyes widening impossibly as she clutches onto suguru desperately as the man holds her still. “ keep cumming, keep cumming, good fuckin’ girl,” he grunts with his nose pressing hard against the column of her throat, effortlessly handling the mess of limbs on his knees that is stiffening & seizing with the pressure it takes her to release it all. she thinks she’s seeing sounds, she thinks she’s hearing colors- by the time she comes back down to earth, she has half a mind on her to breathe, and only through the demanding of him who is now holding her chin in his palm: “ don’t pass out on me now, keep breathin’, keep breathin’.” 

it feels cold, when his fingers finally vacate their cozy home, but they are soon to find another- he uses the hand on her chin to pull her jaw a bit down, fingertips squishing into her cheeks to make her open up so he can stuff her mouth with the very same fingers with a dazed look in his eyes. “ polite girls clean up after themselves,” he murmurs. the tangy taste melts on her tongue, sucking on suguru’s fingers as he slowly rocks them a bit, imitating the lewd imagery of her sucking his cock. it would be a pretty sight, she thinks. to see him with his head tipped back, to rob him stark naked of any control he might have, to own him by the balls, as they say. but suguru doesn’t seem interested in the idea, as he just sighs, contently watching her suck on his fingers. she’s always thought he had pretty eyes, violet hues that have been shining with brilliance from the day she’s met him. “ i can’t be doing everything around here, can i?” the way he asks is so fucking condescending, she can’t help the way her ears burn as he pushes his hips into hers to remind her of the very painful hard on that’s been straining against her thigh now. “ ‘m not satoru, sweetheart- i don’t give out free dick. if you want it, you earn it. ” the now empty hand comes harsh against the plush fat of her ass, making her let out a muffled cry through his fingers. “ ride me like you mean it. ” 

he doesn’t have to tell her twice. 

the unbuckling of his belt and the freeing of his hard on is unceremonious, but the thrill of it is so, so heavy in her blood she thinks she’d ride this high for a good year, if she was lucky. he’s not as long as satoru, but the girth of him makes her gulp with the unsavory calculation- it doesn’t take a genius to know it’s going to be a hell of a stretch. suguru, who seems to have noticed her hesitation, grins a little. “ aw, afraid of dick, now?” he mocks, and she hates how much she really likes the genuine laugh he lets out, even when he’s bullying her. “ it doesn’t bite. go on, now. ” she wraps a hand around the base of it, her knuckles brushing against the dark happy trail as she indulges herself in a leisure stroke, watching his eyes roll back with an animalistic pleasure. all she knows is that she wants to see more of it, so when her thumb reaches the angry & leaking tip, she makes sure to apply all the pressure she can manage. “ i think the dick is afraid of me, baby. ” she teases, teeth grazing the corner of his jaw. “ you’ve been packing this the whole time? damn, maybe i got the wrong bestie.” 

suguru can’t manage a response with the way he looks like he’s on cloud nine beneath her, and she finds it sweet, the way he leans into her touch, the way he’s lost in it. having decided that she doesn’t want pleasure if it doesn’t involve hers, she aligns him with her slick entrance, letting the fat tip nudge against her folds with a shaky breath, and tilting her hips to let him sink into her without further teasing. 

the moan they let out when he’s finally inside her is in unison, but his is much whinier than hers and she finds that she revels in the sound- she’d never think him to be whiny in bed, never think him the one to release control. but here he is, holding onto her hips in the backseat of a honda civic, the living and breathing embodiment of pussy whipped. “ holy fuck,” he gasps out, his adam’s apple bobbing as his head tips back to the headrest. “ holy fuck.” 

“ you’re gonna eat your fucking words, suguru,” she confesses in his ear, in the most saccharine voice imaginable as her thighs part to dig her knees on the leather seats so she can ride him to her heart’s content, moaning every single time he bottoms out, every single time his head kisses her cervix, filling her up so nicely. all she can think about is how he deemed her unworthy of him in the bar an hour ago. “ oh, no words? the whiny girl’s pussy got your tongue, baby?” she latches onto his throat just so she can leave a pink mark of hers, just for him to see in the mirror, just for him to have to sit down in satoru and try to explain where that came from. what a scene it would be, how she would have given a kidney and a lung to see it. suguru, to the proof of her point, is too focused on not busting on the spot all her teasing is returned by radio silence except for grunts and whines. he looks so drunk, she wants to kiss him just for that, but she bites on the inside of her cheek instead, wanting him to know what real desperation was. his hands are so, so tight on her waist, and his mumbles are her favorite song. 

well, except the ringtone that disturbs the perfect rhythm she has found, an unexpected caller. 

it is coming from suguru’s pocket, to which she has no problem digging around to find. “ i’ve got you, sweetness, keep moaning like that,” she kisses his forehead just to drive her mockery home, before her eyes lock on the screen. 

gojo. 

if it wasn’t lucky. 

“ no, no, give me that back-” suguru attempts to get his hands on his phone but she is already answering before he can manage, and the first thing they hear is satoru’s voice, who never lets anybody speak first if he’s the caller: “ dude, i’ve been calling you all fucking night, ” he complains. “ where the hell have you been?” 

suguru is looking at her with pleading eyes, but seeing how that desperation erodes with a single roll of her hips is so satisfactory there is no shame in her voice as she responds: “ he’s busy, satoru babes,” she laughs, giddy. and it takes a hot minute for the white haired walking ego on the other end of the line to register her voice. “ what?... how?... what the fuck?” by now there is no fucking way he’s not hearing the sweet moans suguru is releasing, too pussy-whipped to realize the situation she put them in, too pussy-whipped to stop. “ say hi, sugu.” she plays an evil more diabolical card, shoving the mic right in the corner of suguru’s mouth, who is now scrambling for the last bits of his late composure. “ sato-oh, fuck, satoru, i can’t- i couldn’t- oh my fucking god, ‘ts so tight, ” unable to string a form of coherent sentences, she thinks she could cum from just how mouth-watering the view is. 

“ suguru, are you fucking my girl right now?” satoru is asking with a bamboozlement she has never heard in his voice before but before he can get an answer she hangs up, tossing the phone somewhere in the messy seats- not everything is about satoru, and leaving him hanging is a bigger punishment than letting him stay on the phone for the whole thing. there was no knowing with the bastard- it wouldn’t be a punishment if he turned out to be into it, after all. torture or not, suguru is hers for the moment, and there is a prized possession in such belonging, she honors it with wrapping her arms around his neck and rocking into him like there is no tomorrow. “ you feel so good,” she breaths into his ear, honest and genuine. “ you feel so fucking good, suguru. you’re so beautiful, look at you,” she slides his chin into her palm, gaze boring into his heavenly visage with an adoring look, even when he looks so utterly fucked out. “ who’s passing out on who now, hm? ” 

maybe he would have panicked at the aspect of being caught red handed, maybe he would have stopped or would have actually do something about it when satoru calls again immediately after- but all he does is to shift deeper in the seat, spread his legs wider and start fucking up into her in a rhythm so unforgiving they go back to square one, all power evades her, being reduced to a ragdoll in his arms as he hooks his arms beneath her thighs and spreads her all the way open. “ you got wetter when he heard this,” he tugs on her earlobe, hoarse and teetering on the edge of his own pleasure. “ you got tighter when you picked up, such a fucking whore,” he grunts, and she is reeling, nails digging into his shoulders as she tries to take the pounding without screaming. “ little slut is gonna cum from being caught,” he mocks, breathless. “ go ahead and fucking cum.” he is so right there is no fighting it- he commands with that growl and she is falling apart before she can stop it, and suguru is right behind her. 

it takes minutes, for both of them to come down from their highs, as suguru keeps spilling into her with no end and she keeps milking him for all he’s worth, clinging to each other like their lives depended on it. knowing that satoru had stopped calling somewhere right before they came, it truly might have, as there was no knowing what he would be doing right now. his silence was scarier than his reactions, but at the moment she really can’t bring herself to care. “  you doin’ okay?” he asks, making her jolt on his thigh just to get a reaction out of her, brushing her damp strands away from her face, revealing her hazy gaze and unfocused eyes. “ cockdrunk,” he grins. “ look at yourself, poor little thing.” her limbs still work enough for her to give him a slap on the bicep along a roll of her eyes. “ says the man who moaned like a bitch to the boyfriend of the girl he’s fucking. who knew you were such a whore, suguru?” her tongue darts out to lick her dry lips. “ you’re full of surprises.” 

“ and you’re so full of unnecessary words,” he sighs, both to how she immediately became annoying again and how it feels when she finally lets him slide out of her, remaining seated on his thigh. none of them make an attempt to leave this cozy nest they have been indulging in for a good hour or two now. “ at this point i just think you are incapable of going fifteen minutes without hearing your own voice.” she snorts with the response, shifting off his lap to collapse right next to him, both of them breathing heavy in silence for a moment. “ what now?” he asks after a few minutes, looking over at her with those heaven of violet eyes. 

she offers him the most charming, dazzling smile of hers. “ what happens is that you tell satoru i said hi,” she says. “ and get out of my car, suguru. i’m done with both your asses.” 

© written by lotuseye. do not translate or copy my work.

[cherrychilli]

18+

Eddie Munson x flexible! reader, AFAB reader, allusions to PIV sex

Eddie finds out you're double jointed.

A/N: This one's super self indulgent because I'm very bendy and I felt like writing about it. Also they smoke weed but everything's consensual✌️

"C'mon, there's gotta be something about you I don't know already", he prompts after another smoky exhale, blunt pinched between his thumb and forefinger. It wisps out into the evening air beyond the back doors of his van, opened out to overlook a moon dappled lover's lake.

This is what the conversation had dwindled down to after having spent the whole day together, most other talking points already stretched thin by now.

Usually you would have considered the question more carefully but now that your intuition's been dulled by his stash, you search through the foggy corridors of your mind for an answer like you're feeling around for a light switch in the dark.

Eddie has been your closest friend for the better part of five years now and you weren't exactly a closed book by any means which made coming up with something all the more difficult.

Most of what comes to mind feels too mundane to mention so you pass them over in favor of searching for something that might pique his interest.

"Hmm, I'm kind of double jointed I guess", you slowly recalled, too mellowed out to realize the kind of implications something like that might carry to a man like Eddie.

But where there should have been raised eyebrows and a lascivious curve on his lips you find his eyes narrowing into a puzzled little squint instead as he looks at you from where he's leaned against the back of the driver's seat.

"But we've only had one", he turns the joint in his hand over to examine it closer as if a second one might be hidden somewhere underneath.

Maybe you'd given him too much credit.

You roll your eyes at him playfully, leaning closer on your hands and knees to pluck the joint out of his hand and take another puff. The weed might have made him a little slow and sluggish to fully comprehend your what you'd just shared with him but not enough to prevent him from sneaking a peek at your cleavage from this angle.

"No Eddie, it just means I'm flexible. Like, a little more than most people", you return to your side of the van, leaning back against the side door with your knees pulled up to your chest.

"So, like the splits?"

"More than that"

"More?", his eyes go wide and you can see a hint of redness bordering his sclera, certain the same tinge is present in own eyes too.

"Yeah, like check this out", you hand him back the last of the joint for him to finish off and put out. Holding up your left hand, you fold your thumb into your palm and gather the rest of your fingers with your right hand, slowly bending them back beyond what he thought to be your limit.

The unnatural arc might have unsettled anyone else but not Eddie and you begin to giggle when his face lights up instead of twisting into a wince.

"Shit, does that hurt?"

"Nope", you start to beam a little, letting him take your hand in his when he reaches for it eagerly.

Carefully, he manipulates them, making them bend in all kinds of ways; touching your thumb to your forearm, pushing the first joint of each finger back as far as possible.

"Oh that's fucked", he smiles big and wide as if he could gladly spend an entire day just messing around with your fingers.

"What else can you do?"

His impress fills you with a new kind of high, one much more heady than the weed and you fail to resist it now that you've gotten a taste.

"Mm, I can get my legs behind my head too", you shrug, this time much more aware of what you're divulging.

"Seriously? both of them?", he manages to ask calmly enough though you can almost feel him buzzing under his skin like a cicada about to take flight.

"Yeah, don't even really have to stretch to do it"

His jaw tenses, his normally expressive face unreadable before he quietly asks, "can I see?"

Oh this is dangerous. You feel like you're entering uncharted territory in your friendship but you like the look stirring in his eyes too much to deny him.

"Maybe just one", you offer, thankful that you're wearing your cotton shorts today instead of something denim.

Sitting criss cross on the old blanket he uses to carpet the back of his van for smoke sessions, you slip off your flip flops and place both hands on your right foot. With your left hand cradling the ball of your foot and your right hand gripping your heel, you begin to lift your leg up past your chest.

The underside of your thigh which he only gets to secretly ogle on days when you're dressed like this is bared to him as you get your calf over your shoulder, no trace of pain or discomfort on your face. Dropping your right hand, you duck your head slightly to maneuver your foot over it with your left hand then it's done. Your foot slips into place behind your head, heel nudging the nape of your neck. You're able to straighten up to look him in the eye, shooting him a wink while you wiggle your toes.

"There. Not so hard", you can't help but show off, drunk on the stunned look etched on Eddie's face.

And then his eyes trailed lower.

He does it quickly -- a mental snapshot that he'll file away for later. He memorizes the way your shorts have ridden up, so tight around your core he can make out the print of your underwear and the shape of your cunt beneath the stretched out fabric, wishing he could rip the stitches of the offending material apart and fit his tongue there instead.

Pleased with your display, you untangle yourself smoothly, limbs returning to their rightful alignments as Eddie takes a few seconds to blink himself out of his thoughts. His entirely non platonic, downright debaucherous thoughts.

"Woah that was...wow", he settles, pressing his lips together before his motormouth revs up and he lets out something he'll regret. 'You're like a sexy stretch Armstrong', nearly makes its way through but he's able to bite on to it and swallow it back down just in time.

"You're the first guy I've ever shown that to", you laugh but it comes out a little weak now that you're processing what you've just done.

"Seriously? what about Mark?", he asks, face scrunching up slightly like the name left a bad taste in Eddie's mouth.

The mention of your last ex sobers you up even more. "No, I never told him", you tell him simply, smothering down a laugh. The truth was Mark's idea of kinky was leaving the lights on so you never brought up your little contortionist act, afraid it would be too much for him to handle.

"Don't think he would have been into it", you tell Eddie instead and he looks back at you, deadpanned.

"What?"

"Sorry I just find that really hard to believe", he clears his throat, barely disguising his own interest.

The silence that follows has a certain weight to it. It's a familiar kind of weight that you've felt before on days when you're alone with Eddie and the line between friends and something more begins to blur. The weight of possibility.

"Always wanted to try it", you add, hoping like hell that you haven't misread that hungry look in his eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I don't know just seems like it could be...fun?", you shrug, a not entirely successful attempt at appearing nonchalant because you've begun to sweat. The van feels far too small all of a sudden which doesn't make sense because you're nowhere near as close as you would like to be with the boy who's seems to be stuck on what to say next.

Call it a leap of faith or call it a huge fucking mistake but you decide to take the plunge and ask him the question that's been beating on the inside of your cranium like a hammer on a nail.

"Eddie, would it be weird if I ask you to-"

"Yes", he answers quickly. Resolutely.

The swiftness of it hurts like a guillotine coming down on your heart -- shot down before you'd even finished the question so you swallow down your regret like a throatful of gravel.

"R-right. Yeah I know it was stupid of me to even try to-"

He doesn't know where he went wrong until he sees your bottom lip tremble and the confidence you'd worn up until now completely strip away, realizing you've mistaken him eagerly jumping the gun for flat out rejection.

Eddie's hands come down on your shoulders as he bolts up to kneel in front of you, shaking you to shock the tears away before they have a chance rise and turn your eyes glassy.

"No! I mean yes, it's not not weird but I don't care because YES, I want to um, do that with you… is what I meant"

His grip eases up but his eyes stay wide to read your expression, chest no longer feeling like an anvil had been dropped on it when a smile breaks out on your face, the kind that feels like it could reach beyond his ribcage and touch his heart.

"Really?", you ask, somehow understanding him perfectly. If there was anyone who could make sense of Eddie's nonsense it was you.

"I mean, if you want to...", he leans closer when he catches you looking at his lips.

"I do want to", you lean in too, hands smoothing up his chest, bringing your lips closer to his.

For all the effort he put into keeping his unfiltered thoughts from spilling out it's just his luck that he stumbles over the very last hurdle before the finishing line.

"Oh my god I'm going to fold you like a pretzel"

It's so abrupt and silly and just so Eddie that you can't help but laugh, dropping your head. His lips skim your forehead and he laughs too, both of you holding each other, locked in a giggle fit until it tapers and subsides.

When you do look back up the heat that had been there before his gaffe returns tenfold. "Maybe leave the dirty talk to me", you place a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in for a proper kiss.

[occasionalsnippets]

Okay I'm so very curious on what would happen in case fd!mc died. I've not caught up on all the lore but the idea that they'd focus on everyone elses tragedies, only to forget they're now a character too with their own problems and enemies and that (or something else) being their end. Like the angst potential just calls to me.

Taglist: @dragondevinity, @lonely-star2044, @sheep-from-rad, @ilxandra, @thethingwiththefeathers, @star-wars-lycanwing-bat, @sackofsadstuff, @zonked-times, @paastaboi, @venfia, @fantasy-angelo, @linaisadream

Asdlaskjdh I would love to kill them off, maybe like a bit after Jason comes to the manor. I just know that everyone is going to be trapped in the shadow of the pedestal they built for you!!!

Like, Bruce is perpetual longing to make things right by you. He forever catches himself thinking “what would you do” and “what would you tell him to do”, but never able to rely on your guidance to fix things again. Even though you acted essentially as his emotional crutch and translator and the initial impression of you basically being a (not) adult in his life, he’s eternally going to wish he could’ve done better for you. He isn’t your father and you weren’t his daughter. But, maybe you could’ve been something. It’s too late now, regardless.

Even though you’re six feet under, you’re no farther than you were in life. Dick remembers the distance between you and him more than anything else. Be it the distance he placed between himself and the manor or the ravine you dug yourself. He had always been more focussed on Tim than you and in many ways, you had orchestrated things so that it would be that way. You didn’t need him. Not like everyone else. And that leaves him with nothing of you but distant text messages and memories of you, dancing just out of his reach.

Jason remembers you amidst fluttering fabrics and blurry faces, shutters of a past he can barely recall. Your face in childhood is smeared in washes of green, blending with the images of the you of now that blares with every headline of your death. He’s never gotten to know who you are now when you aren’t hidden behind velvet curtains, in dresses covered in rhinestones worth more than an apartment complex. It haunts him. Just a bit. The same way he knows the memory of who he was before his death haunts Bruce.

Tim mourns in the Drake manor that has always been filled with more you than either of his parents. You’re gone now, just like them. It hits him harder than anyone he’s ever lost. Unlike everyone else, he almost had a surplus of memories of you, the good, the bad, the annoying and kind. It casts a daunting shadow of a role he’ll never be able to fulfil. A role that you, his perfect, unfailing, older sister, have left behind. The lingering warmth will kill him someday he thinks as he traces your path and follows in your footsteps.

Damian only knows you from stories and photographs and the half-aborted actions that the rest of the family takes. They are all trying to be something good for him and in the depths of the records his father keeps, he knows that it is your doing. You have always been larger than life to him. An idol-like figure he can never reach or know. There are millions of photos of you, thousands of angles, all of which he has learned to draw. He can imagine the gentle curve of your smile, mimic the posture when you stood, count the number of lashes on each of your eyes. But, he can only grasp at the ghost you left behind, unable to reach who you truly were.

The family will grieve. They will mourn. But, they will collect themselves eventually. You did not spend the last years of your life forcing them to communicate only for them to fall apart after you’re gone, after all.

[fast-burn]

Maxiel + 14. Sloppy seconds !!

i think this is maybe my most requested kink 😂 but you gotta give the people what they want! hope you don't mind if i add background garage gangbang into this (and also cw for drug use reference, off-screen)

kink list here

XXX

Generally Daniel tries not to live with regrets, but he's a little miffed that the whole thing with Max's mechanics began after he left Red Bull. Granted, it couldn't have started before. The concept of Max coming off his first race and his first win getting gangbanged within an inch of his life is something Daniel avoids thinking about like someone might avoid grasping a hot poker. That whole idea is just--well yeah, better not.

Still though, it's like Red Bull didn't start having real fun until Daniel was out of the picture. Not that Daniel would have joined or anything, but it would have been nice to have the invitation.

Daniel is in the hotel lobby, late, buying chamomile tea from the bar instead of room service because--he doesn't know. Better to put a couple euros on his credit card rather than charging it to the team? He's just in time to see GP and Calum walk in with Max propped up between them. They each have an arm around his curved waist. Max moves sluggishly, but he seems happy. Downright blissful. They carry him to the elevator and Daniel holds out his AmEx to tap it against the machine.

It takes maybe three minutes of Daniel being back in his own room before he's texting Max.

you good?

yes very good is Max's reply, almost immediately.

Daniel bites his lip. His mind is blank.

wanna come up and watch a movie or something? can't sleep

lol netflix and chill? Max asks, and well that's not-not what Daniel meant. He totally gets if Max is too tired for it. Hardly a big deal.

He says up to you, we can just hang if you want, and then rm 1220.

Daniel sips his tea and then goes to brush his teeth. He's rearranging his curls, trying to make them look fuller, when finally Max knocks on the door.

"Hi Daniel," he says, leaning in the doorway, eyes half-lidded, body swaying like he's drunk. He isn't drunk. He's probably taken a ton of poppers, but now he's genuinely just tired, the effects long since worn off. Daniel scoops him into the room.

Max is easy to direct to the bed, and as soon as he lays down he starts kicking off his shoes, toes prying down the heels before he flicks his ankles and nearly launches them at the goddamn TV. He smiles up at Daniel, the stretch of his mouth a shiny with a smear of lip balm and sore-looking in the corners. He makes grabby hands until Daniel crawls on top of him. Cute. The last time they did this, Max said he always wanted a breather after it all, but once he cooled down he wanted the weight of something anchoring him. Daniel isn't particularly heavy, but he's happy to provide in whatever way he can.

"I don't think I can come again," Max says, rubbing his face against Daniel's neck. His stubble is so scratchy-rough-good, dragging against the grain of Daniel's own beard, that Daniel shivers over and over. "But I'm not ready to sleep yet."

"Lucky me," says Daniel. "You wanna talk about it?"

Max makes a vague noise, but then he gives Daniel the post-gangbang report in broad strokes. They put several big packing blankets down on the garage floor, they took turns, they made sure his holes were always full, they cleaned him up when they were done. Daniel is hard when Max finally snuffles into Daniel's collar and says, "That's all, just the usual. Pretty simple stuff."

The pictures flashing through Daniel's mind aren't simple at all. It's like that guy with the painting of the staircases, tangled up in all different angles. He grinds his dick against the bed in the soft, open vee of Max's legs.

"I don't think I--" Max starts.

Daniel interrupts him. "No. No, I know."

"You would be very nice, Daniel. It's not you that is the problem."

It's twelve to fifteen guys other than me, Daniel thinks to himself, then chastises himself for being jealous. They're not a couple, and Max loves these nights. It makes him feel connected to everyone. It makes him feel so satisfied that he has to be hand-delivered back to the hotel, poured into Daniel's bed to sleep it off for eight hours.

"Can I just take a look?" He asks instead, and Max nods, twists in Daniel's arms until he's flat on his stomach.

"I won't fall asleep," Max promises.

"You can if you want. It was a big day." Daniel tugs Max's soft pants down: Red Bull-branded sweats. It was probably impossible to get him back into his tight jeans, afterwards.

The skin on Max's arse and thighs is red-hot, spanked all over, but nothing looks bruised. Daniel skims his hands across, barely touching but Max still squirms against the sensation. The mechanics clearly love Max so much. They give him exactly what he needs and nothing more, always working together like a well-oiled machine even when said machine is a train they're running on Max.

Daniel slides his thumbs between Max's cheeks, starting from his taint and un-zippering upward, spreading Max so Daniel can inspect the damage. Someone has cleaned him up, got him all sorted out. His hole is like a halved cherry, like Max's lips when he's been biting them, all puffy and used and raw. Daniel can't help but press his face into it.

Max whines lightly when Daniel licks across his hole. He tastes like antiseptic and aloe, and beneath that copper and salt and the undeniable flavour of latex. "Everybody wrapped up?" Daniel asks, almost directly into Max's arsehole.

"Yes, of course," Max says. "It would be too messy if they didn't."

And there's another thought Daniel shouldn't have: Max so full of sperm that he's leaking down his crack and across his balls, all of it mixed together into a mystery sludge, and Daniel could suck every drop out of him.

"You can come on me, though, if you want," Max offers then, and Daniel doesn't need to be told twice.

Daniel kisses up Max's spine and shoves his hand into his own pants, pulls his dick out and strips it fast. He can't be bothered for finesse, suddenly on the edge, totally desperate. "They really got you good, huh?" He asks, mouthing Max's shoulders, his neck, the shell of his ear the same colour as his slapped arse.

"Mm hm," Max murmurs, face mashed into Daniel's pillow. He's gonna pass out any moment. "It was so lovely, Daniel. I wish I could just get fucked like that all the time, but then it wouldn't be special. I can still feel them all, inside. Like they are still doing it. Here, feel," he says, and pulls Daniel's free hand back to his hole just in time for Daniel to feel it pulse and throb against the tips of his fingers, a needy little mouth. And Daniel feeds it, striping Max's back and thighs and arse with his release as he comes.

[daenysx]

guys, please read at your own discretion (i mean it's not something too different from the usual nsfw content i write, it's just that reader touches herself to the thought of aemond and maybe some people can feel uncomfortable, i don't know, i'm a bit shy as i post this)

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader, smut <333

aemond targaryen drives you insane.

he's- he's been on your mind since you got home.

fuck him.

no, that's- that's not what you want.

you just want him to shut the fuck up for only a minute, stop talking, stop saying what he thinks on something that matters too little for the philosophy class. stop trying to impress the professor. stop knowing everything. stop smirking when he gets something right. stop blinking those pretty eyes looking at the book, stop-

he needs to stop before you lose your mind.

you throw your bag on the floor, your messed up room can take a bit more mess because you're not gonna clean it today. not now. your blood's boiling, a thin layer of sweat forms on your hairline. taking off your clothes harshly, you put them on the floor, too.

feeling the cold bed sheets against your hot skin is nice. you close your eyes. calm down. stop going crazy over a man. over this man at least. he's pretentious, he's literally the devil himself sometimes, an insufferable prick. you should dislike him with your entire being.

you should.

the thing is- he's too pretty to be disliked.

you put your hand on your belly. fuck aemond targaryen. fuck his piercing blue gaze, his stupid flowy hair, his perfectly sculpted jawline. one time you saw his bare chest when he was at the training with the team. so fuck his statue-like physique. his abs. his happy trail and-

you need to get over it. you need to. it makes you feel like a fool every time you see him at school. every time when he sits next to you in class. you don't know if you hate him or if you're crazy for him. this is madness. stop thinking about him. stop.

you rub the soft skin of your hip bone. only wearing your panties, it'd be so easy to- but no. not when he's on your mind. squirming helplessly on bed, you move your legs. it's just- just for once. you can promise yourself to never do that again. oh.

sliding your hand inside your panties slowly, you find yourself wet. of course. he's an overachiever even now when he's turning you on, and he's not even here. your free hand plays with your nipple briefly. your entire body feels like it's on fire.

your hand goes down just a bit. you spread the wetness nicely, a shaky breath comes out of your lips. just this time. you need it for the peace of your mind. you'll get him out of your system after you finish. it's just a secret to keep for yourself.

you start rubbing your clit, it feels so nice. you need to be touched, your fingers move on the nub to find a good angle. you can never reach too far with your fingers when you try to stimulate yourself from inside, only managed to come from touching your g-spot once. it never happened again and it frustrates you more when you can't do it by yourself.

you go with the way you like. your eyes closed, your free hand thrown over your head. you move your hips to meet your two fingers, stroking the bundle of nerves. it's okay. you're doing okay. you can imagine him. it's gonna be okay.

his face flashes in your mind. that beautiful smile when he gets something right. oh, those pretty lips curving so nicely when the professor gives him a praise. you smile. why is he so pretty? it's not fair. he'd smile against your skin if he'd be here right now. he'd tell you how good you're doing for him. he looks like the type of guy who talks during sex. he practically never shuts up in class, why would he be silent when he gets you like this?

"there you go." he'd say, his voice low. "touch yourself for me. look at how wet you are, and i haven't even done anything." arrogant jerk. you keep rubbing your clit. almost there.

you think of his hands. the prominent veins showing when he holds his pen too tight. one time he held the door open for you, his hand all spread on the surface, long fingers and clean nails. he looks so clean, so put together. his fingers are definitely longer than yours. you imagine he'd knew how to fuck you with them the way you want.

"please." you whisper against nothing. you're in control yet it feels like you're not. "more. more."

you lift your hips, roll them on bed to meet your fingertips. the wetness is too much suddenly but you can't help yourself. it's the sweetest part, you're almost there. this madness will disappear. you need something- more. something to press harder. you'll lose your mind.

the sudden urge gets you and you take your pillow. putting it between your legs, you start humping. almost ashamed, but there's no reason. you need this. "come on, be a good girl. almost there, such a pretty baby. oh no, are you crying? what's there to cry, you silly girl, no, you can't stop, i told you to keep going."

his voice. fuck his voice. you press yourself harder, two fingers squeezed between the pillow and your body to keep rubbing your clit. come on, come on. you're going insane. he drives you insane. "oh!" you say, can't help yourself. "yes. yes." counting down the seconds.

and then- the tight bubble finally snaps. "aemond!" you whisper desperately. "oh, aemond- fuck." you slide yourself on the pillow, trying to last a bit longer. you hum, satisfied, the orgasm tiring you and clearing your head at the same time. you keep your eyes closed, he's right there. he gives you a proud smile. you've done so well. your back arches like a cat finally, one last movement on the pillow. it's over.

your body falls on the bed. opening your eyes, you see the room has darkened. your tired hand stays limp on your belly, the used pillow is still between your legs. you gotta clean yourself. you gotta drink some water.

you think it's over, this weird feeling you have for your rival. out of your system. your mind can function properly now. it's all okay.

your phone beeps with new messages.

aemond targaryen: hey

aemond targaryen: i was wondering if you'd like to be partners for the next philosophy assignment

aemond targaryen: i have an idea, i think you'll love it

fuck.

[thecrowsart]

people: omg we finally get to see hyper! me: omg we finally get to see more angles of kusuriuri's clothes! observations and (A LOT OF) ranting under the cut:

1.)

The inside sleeve design has been revealed! It's pretty similar to the outside design but instead of that four-petal design, it's a gold circle. Also, it looks like the large eye is shared by both sides, but based on how the sleeve looks in other images, it must be really really big..... I guess they can get away with it lol. Like, if you laid out the sleeve fabric, I think it would look like this:

2.)

THE BACK OF HIS OBI. What the hell kinda knot is this actually... like, does anyone here know about obimusubi because I'm not very good at knots but if it comes down to it I will learn how this works. I already thought this based on the promo art but it seems like his obi fabric is double-sided, with purple on one side and the check pattern on the other, with a red trim. That lighter salmon color in the knot seems to be a different fabric, maybe an obiage? It's not tucked into the front so I'm not sure if that's the right term, but in any case it's some kind of extra fabric. If the purple and check are really one piece of fabric, then the knot is like... a hitch? It's some kind of one-loop bow, and it's quite bulky so he might have an obimakura in there. Whatever it is, it's considerably more elaborate than OG Kusuriuri's obi, which was that red brocade just tied into a large crooked bow. Who is helping movie Kusuriuri get dressed in the morning? (I'm sure he can do it himself and I commend him for the dedication to the aesthetic lol).

3.)

His mirror is now kept looped around this thick cord that kind of comes out of nowhere and disappears into his obi. First of all, how is the mirror staying up like that since the string is only looped once. Second, the thick white cord looks the same as the one that comes out of the left side of his obi and loops around his back, but I'm not sure how they would connect. Logically, they probably are the same cord and it goes through his obimusubi somehow. 4.)

This one was actually noticeable in the very first trailer as you can tell, since the second screenshot is from that trailer, but I somehow never noticed it until now. Kusuriuri has neck markings now! In a different frame I caught a glimpse of the part that goes into his collar, it looks like a circle, though it's not visible in either of these screenshots. But from the first screenshot and some other frames I saw, it looks somewhat off-center. I wasn't sure if it was just a weird frame at first, but it looks consistent the few other times (time?) that part of his neck is visible. It looks like the strip of red that leads down to the circle curves off to the left rather than going straight down the center. I didn't realize this before but his neck is actually concealed in most of the promo images.

5.)

A better look at the back of his socks, plus two things that were visible this whole time but I didn't notice: first, his black leggings have this folded layer you can probably see on top. I'm not sure how to describe it and I don't know exactly how it works. It seems weird to me that he would have three sock layers (outer black, inner black, white), so I think the two black layers are probably still part of the same sock. I'm just not sure exactly what's up with it. Secondly, his geta have metal corners on the teeth! I don't think I've seen that on real geta, so maybe it's just a random detail, but if it's a thing on some real geta, I wonder if it's to keep the wood from wearing away there. Also another think I'm just noticing, there's a reinforcing wedge of wood under the front part of his geta that overhand the front tooth. You can see it a little in the second image.

Overall, that's all the new design stuff I noticed. Since I just drew him twice and spent like all day thinking about this, I've realized his design is way more elaborate than the original one. He has a bunch of little doodads, like the ties around his ankle or that decorative tie that comes out of his ohashori:

which still bothers me because I've never seen the back of it. Where are those strings going. And how is it secured in the first place? is it tied or pinned underneath his ohashori, like on the tie under the obi (not sure if there's a name for it)? What is it? Why does he have this here?

These details as well as things like the corners and wedge on his geta, the red trim on the obi and the check pattern, and his elaborate eye make up are all design elements that could never really have worked for a tv show. It's impressive to me even that OG Kusuriuri had that hand drawn brocade texture and the designs on his kimono that he did. It's the type of thing animators usually avoid, lol.

I like the movie design visually, but my god is it a pain in the ass to draw. Due to the aforementioned details of course and the wider variety of colors. Oh yeah, my last (for real) observation is that this Kusuriuri looks a lot less human than our OG friend. His skin is entirely whitish-grey, and he has that white/purple and red hair, and now he has markings on his neck instead of just on his face. (Unrelated but I feel like they made his lip tattoo less prominent and it makes me sad because it's one of my favorite things about Kusuriuri's design). But Hyper, from that very small glimpse we caught of him, looks more mundane than the original. I think it's the combination of his black hair and his markings being red instead of gold. I wonder what the rest of him will look like.... It was interesting to me that his face is drawn differently from Kusuriuri. In the TV anime, they have the same face shape and features, but their hair and coloring is different. And OG Hyper had a slightly different version of Kusuriuri's clothes. We can't see this new Hyper's clothes, but his face is more square looking. He looks like a different person... interesting lore implications.

Okay, I really must stop there.

[capr1pengu1n]

A little victim-less crime

Summary: Upon losing a bet, your consequence is to dress up in an outfit of Edward's choosing, while he shares you with his colleague, Jonathan Crane

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader, threesome, dom!Edward and dom!Jonathan, slight scriddler vibes tbh, degradation, oral (m receiving), fingering, facefucking, hair pulling

Words: 3.4k

Notes: This is FILTHY guys i'm so sorry, this was inspired by a dream i had and i wrote it all in one sitting lmao. It was meant to be more of a drabble while I work on an anon request but um...yeah this happened. This is also my first time writing Jonathan so forgive me if his characterisation is a little rough. part two.

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

“Don’t keep us waiting doll, you promised.”

Hearing your boyfriend call to you gives you a rush of excitement and nerves as you stand in his apartment bathroom. Staring at the muted green tiles on the wall, you breathe slowly to prepare yourself before looking in the mirror to adjust your ears. Bunny ears.

You remember the playful bet you made with the two supervillains, hard to forget when you’re dealing with men like them. Edward, your lover, wasn’t too shy about sharing you with his friend, and as such you developed a taste for having both the criminals at once. He still had demands of his sadistic companion, like that he was not to use his fear toxin on you unless he had your explicit consent, even though Edward knows he still wouldn’t allow it; not sharing quite the same appetite for fear, especially yours. Since Edward’s pride also dictated that you could only be with Jonathan when he was present, you began to look forward to times when you knew the doctor would be coming to visit. It was one of such visits when you’d made the remark you were now slightly regretting.

“Oh come on, he clearly has to blink.”

You were referring to Jonathan’s uncanny ability to stare uninterrupted without blinking, causing Edward to chuckle. “Not if he can help it, although I suppose you could always try and outlast him.”

“Outlast me? Please, she couldn’t possibly.” Jonathan drawled, whiskey glass in hand as he smirked. He knew what he was doing, feeding into the competitiveness you tried to hide.

“I can…I’ll prove it.” You replied, overconfident. Before Jonathan could reply, Edward chimed in.

“Why don’t you make it a bet, my dear?”

This caused intrigue to be felt in the room, as you and Jon looked at Edward, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Perhaps, if you win, both me and Jonathan have to…be your servants for an allotted time.” He started, causing Jonathan to scoff. “Now now Crane, don’t be a spoilsport.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly and ask, “and what if Jonathan wins?”

“Don’t I get to decide? Since I’m the one doin’ all the effort here.” Jonathan murmured, before Edward smirked a little.

“I’m sure you’ll be pleased with my choice. If Jonathan wins, you have to wear something of my choosing, and be ours for the night.”

You couldn’t deny the offer was tempting, having them both at your beck and call would certainly knock their egos down a peg. Although you had no idea what on earth Edward planned on dressing you as if Jonathan won. But what’s the worst that could happen?

“Fine, deal.”

You can almost hear those two words in your head as you look at yourself now, twisting your body to look from every angle. All your curves were squeezed into a tight black corset style bodysuit that even had a cotton tail on the ass. You were floored when Edward had sent you into the bathroom with the instructions that your costume was on the side of the bath, expecting maybe some plain lingerie. But a playboy bunny suit? You’d blushed the whole time you put it on, pulling up the nylon stockings and attaching the wrist cuffs and bowtie neckpiece. Despite your initial hesitance, you’re sure they’ll like it as you spin in the mirror. It certainly doesn’t hide anything.

“Doll, you’re testing our patience.” You hear Edward say sternly from outside, so you reassure him you’ll be out in a moment. Taking a deep breath, you adjust the silly bunny ears on the top of your head for a final time and leave the bathroom, heading down the small hallway to the living room where the two men were sat.

The tension could be cut with a knife as they both look at you, momentarily stunned. Jonathan’s face seems more shocked; clearly Edward had kept it a secret from him what exactly you’d be wearing. But even Edward’s face looks a little stunned, his eyes greedily drinking it all in as he watches you step forward. Unsure what to do, you stand there, placing your hands behind your back in a submissive way they both seem to appreciate.

“Oh sweetheart, look at you.” Edward remarks, grinning now as he adjusts himself in his seat. “Come over here, give Crane a closer look.”

You know he likes that, reminding everyone in the room that despite the dynamics at play, he still is the one that has full control over you, he’s still the one letting Jonathan see you like this. Obliging him, you move over to where the two men sit on the couch.

“Ain’t she pretty.” Jonathan hums, leaning forward a little to properly inspect your curves.

“Well, I think this was a tremendous idea by me.” Edward says in a self-satisfied manner, before gesturing to the floor. “But I don’t think you should be standing right now, should you dear?”

You shake your head before you even realise, getting on your knees in front of them, keeping your back straight so you look eager. Jonathan huffs out a small laugh, flicking the bunny ears on your head. “Real cute.”

Biting your lip softly, you have a good idea of how this is going to go as you feel Edward’s hand tilt your chin up, stroking your cheek softly with his thumb.

“Are you going to be a good girl for us? Or should I say, a good bunny.” He teases, relishing in how condescending and demeaning it sounds to call you a bunny. Especially since you’re the one who got yourself into this position. Regardless, you nod obediently.

“I’m nice enough to admit that Crane probably deserves the first go, since his freakish eyes won us this sight of you.” He relents, leaning back a little and dropping his hand.

“Damn right I do.” Jonathan mumbles, glaring at Edward having not missed the subtle insult. You hesitate before starting to undo the scarecrow’s belt, not missing the way his eyes flash. “Oh, what an eager bunny you seem to be, that right darlin’?”

He helps you to rid him of his belt and slacks, as you decide to play up the whole pet angle and nuzzle your face into his bulge. A groan is heard from above you as he pulls at your hair a little. “Dirty thing.”

Tugging his boxers down, his cock nearly hits you in the face as he holds you in place with his grip. You look up at him, waiting for permission which causes a rush of blood to go straight to his dick. “Look so good, lookin’ up at me like that.” His voice sounds rougher, emphasising his southern accent in a way that sends shivers up your spine, and forces you to clamp your thighs tightly together. Pushing you forward a little, you get the hint and lick a stripe upwards, repeating the motion a few times.

“Arch your back.” Edward says suddenly, his smug smirk never wavering as he demands you. “You’re my bunny too, remember? I want a show.”

Doing your best to do what he asks, you arch your back to emphasise your ass, even giving it a shake for him. His eyes are fixated on the cotton tail, before nodding as if to tell you he’s pleased. But Jonathan clearly isn’t happy with the change in focus, tugging your hair sharply to get you to continue. Breathing deeply, you open your mouth and start to suckle the tip of his cock, before slowly sinking down and bobbing your head. You’re rewarded with a low sound from Jonathan, making the heat between your legs worsen. Jonathan has never been a particularly loud lover, so any sound you can get him to make is a win, you think, as you keep sucking. Your hands grip Jonathan’s thighs, giving you leverage as you bob your head.

Edward watches the sight, mesmerised as he always is. He’ll never admit it out loud, but seeing both of you like this turns him on to no end. Captivated by how your lips look wrapped around the closest thing he has to a friend, causes him to grip his own thigh tight. You make a soft noise around Jonathan’s cock as you pull off for a moment, licking up it and looking up under your eyelashes. He strokes your cheek softly, his way of praising you without words before you begin again.

“You can do better then that, bunny.” Edward mocks, his hand finding itself in your hair as he starts to slowly move your mouth up and down Jonathan’s length. The doctor takes a sharp intake of breath at the sudden change, as Edward forces you deeper before pulling you nearly all the way off, repeating the action. You moan softly, the vibrations sending shocks up Jonathan’s back as he watches you.

“Good little pet, letting me take control.” Edward says lowly, still controlling your pace. “Show us how good you are. Hands behind your back, lace your fingers together.”

You stutter out another whimper as you do what he instructs, lacing your fingers behind your back. Your reward however seems to be your boyfriend pushing you down faster now, almost trying his best to trigger your gag reflex. Jonathan’s hand finds a home on your shoulder, his fingers tracing the soft skin of your collarbone. You gag softly as Edward pushes your mouth nearly to the base of Jonathan’s cock, pulling you up to catch your breath before shoving you back down. He repeats this over and over, time blurring as you let yourself be used like this.

Despite the fact you can barely think, the one thing you can realise is how strangely intimate this feels. Not for you specifically, but for the two men above you. Edward essentially pleasuring Jonathan himself, with you acting as the toy. Although you can’t dwell on that for too long when Jonathan’s hips start to twitch and thrust up into your hot mouth, causing tears to form in your eyes from the intrusion. Still, you do your best to relax your throat as Edward keeps maneuvering you up and down, your bunny ears sitting askew halfway down your hair.

“Gettin’ close girl, where should I cum hm?” Jonathan rasps out, asking you as if you had the hope of answering as you splutter and choke on his length. Instead, you do your best to look up at him, your thighs pressed together but offering your drenched cunt little relief.

“Maybe I should paint that pretty doll face of yours, or that body in your slutty outfit.” He mumbles, and you swear you’ve never heard him this talkative before while you go down on him. It makes you shiver, before a small groan escape his lips. “Or maybe I’ll just let you drink it all up.”

You make a pleased noise, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth as Edward keeps pushing your down further and further on Jonathan’s cock, your nose practically brushing against his pelvis. Jonathan’s hips twitch and his thigh tense, before he cums inside your mouth with a loud groan. Edward holds your position as his partner finishes, before he pulls your hair and lets you off his length.

“Don’t swallow. Be a good bunny and show us.” Edward taunts, knowing how embarrassing the request he’s making of you is. Still, you relent and stick your tongue out for the two criminals, eager to hopefully get a reward for your obedience.

As Edward looks at you both, his friend panting and spent, and his girl on her knees in front of them with cum painted on her tongue, he feels the rush of power and dominance that he craves, his ego through the roof now.

“Good girl, swallow.”

So you do, tasting the bitter cum before catching your breath properly. Your knees slightly ache from being on the floor this long, but you stay with your fingers interlocked.

“So, you gonna fuck her?” Jonathan finally speaks, glancing at Edward, however the narcissist simply shakes his head. You should feel a little embarrassed at how callously the two men discuss this, but you’re so desperate for your lovers’ attention you don’t let it bother you.

“No no…I think I’ll have the same.” He grins, before heat rises to your cheeks. You go to move into position between his legs before he speaks again. “On the sofa.”

Jonathan moves over to accommodate you as you get up next to him, before leaning over until you’re eye level with Edward’s crotch, adjusting your bunny ears. Your boyfriend hums appreciatively and runs a hand down your spine, feeling the material of your costume beneath his fingertips.

“You know what to do.” He says coldly, as you scramble to undo his belt. Meanwhile, Jonathan is greeted to the sight of his life as he practically has your ass in his face. He can’t resist the temptation to gently run his hand over the back of your thighs. The motion causes your desperate state to push back against him, and Jonathan scoffs a little.

With the assistance of Edward, you finally have his cock in front of you as you repeat the action from earlier, licking from base to tip a few times. To watch you jump, the man on the other end of you suddenly spanks you harshly, the gasp escaping your lips pleasing him. Edward utilises this to grab your hair and push you down on himself, not as harshly as before. You start to suck eagerly, bobbing your head up and down as he allows you to set the pace.

Jonathan spanks your other cheek before massaging your ass firmly, enjoying how your body bends and contorts from this angle. He notices that your bodysuit connects at the crotch, and he smirks before tracing his finger along it, ghosting your cunt through the material. You can’t help but let out a noise around Edward’s cock, needy for anything as you grind against the digit.

“Oh, you dumb little pet. Are you that needy?” Edward starts, ever the motormouth even when getting head. You nod around him.

“I suppose I could make m’self useful.” Jonathan says, a teasing lilt in his tone as he gently traces the seams of your bodysuit.

“You want that? Want Crane to play with you, bunny?” Edward asks, revelling in your needy whine. “Seems like she does…”

“Wouldn’t want her clawing at the furniture.” Jonathan remarks, and before you can remind him that you’re a bunny, not a cat, Edward pushes your head down just as Jonathan rips open the crotch of your bodysuit. You gag softly, feeling as Jonathan strokes up and down your dripping folds; Edward hadn’t left you any underwear to go with your costume. His finger trails up to gently play with your clit as Edward lets you breathe. Moaning, you tilt your head to look up at your boyfriend and observe the smug look etched onto his features before you go back to your job, sucking with vigour as Jonathan increases the pressure. Before long, he trails down and pushes a finger inside your cunt, the sound of how wet you are seemingly echoes around the room.

Both you and Edward let out a groan at this, your cunt finally being filled as you back yourself up on the doctor’s fingers, before he graciously adds a second one. The slick sounds of his digits fucking your pussy can barely be heard over the equally depraved sounds of you sucking Edward like your life depends on it. Your boyfriend is in heaven, truly having the best show of his life in front of his eyes. You can feel your bunny ears slip down again as Edward runs his fingers through your hair, before he corrects them on top of your head.

“So slutty, must be quite the honour. To have pleasured both of the most wanted criminals in Gotham, hm?” Edward teases, always having to mention himself even when trying to make you more wanton and desperate.

“I suppose that’s just what bunnies like her are made for.” Jonathan joins in, moving his fingers quicker and harsher. You moan out around Edward, the condescension making your clit throb. Your lovers’ hips twitch a little, forcing his cock deeper as you relax your throat. Making an almost pornographic slurping noise, you double down on your efforts as Jonathan pleasures you more and more.

“So good, what a good slut.” Edward praises, his hand running down so he can move his thumb over your cheeks as you suck.

Your pussy tightens at his words, Jonathan feeling this and smirking more. He uses his other hand to spank your ass again harshly, wanting to keep you on edge. Curling his fingers a little, your eyes roll back as you’re filled from both ends. You can’t deny that you love this, love feeling like a plaything for two men that strike fear in the majority of Gotham’s citizens. It makes you feel powerful in your own way, having almost tamed them in a manner of speaking. As you push yourself down so Edward’s cock hits the back of your throat, you know that you have the riddler addicted to you and the devotion you give him. You know just how to make him feel like a king, how to give him the praise and attention he feels he deserves, and you love giving it to him for moments like this. Where you can just switch your brain off and let yourself be a pet, a bunny, for them both.

“God, what a mouth.” He mumbles, slapping your cheek gently to punctuate his words as he barely suppresses yet another groan.

“She really is somethin’ else.” Jonathan agrees, his fingers never stopping their relentless pace inside you.

“And all mine, aren’t you?”

You realise that despite it all, this is Edward’s way of asking for reassurance, and you’re all to happy to nod around him. However, with the intense onslaught of sensation, especially now that Jonathan has slipped his other hand around your thigh to rub at your clit, you know you’re getting close. You pull off Edward with a pop before hurriedly speaking.

“Getting close…” you warn them both, before going back to your blowjob as Edward moans softly at your announcement.

“Yeah? Gonna cum sweetheart? Cum from being the riddler’s pet bunny?” he goads you, as he watches you moan desperately around him. “Don’t you dare pull off. Want to watch you cum with my cock in your mouth, understand?”

You nod, as Jonathan speeds up his firm circles on your clit. You’re in heaven, the comforting weight of your boyfriend on your tongue as Jonathan fingers you into oblivion. After a few moments, you’re cumming on Jonathan’s fingers with a moan, the intensity causing your whole body to shake. Edward groans at the sight, gripping your hair in place before thrusting up into your mouth. You swear you’re still orgasming, letting him use you as your mouth goes slack. It doesn’t take long before Edward finishes in your mouth with a grunt, letting go of your hair. You pull off and swallow, before taking sharp intakes of breath. Only then does Jonathan pull his fingers out of you, crudely wiping them on your ass.

Edward pulls you up, letting you rest against him, stroking his hand up and down your back gently.

“That alright?” he asks, like he always does. With your nod, he relaxes a little more. “You looked truly delectable in that costume. I really did make the right choice.”

“What was it between?” Jonathan pipes up. He never really is one for aftercare, but still sticks around, occasionally stroking an area of your body absentmindedly.

“This, or a maid outfit.” He explains, looking at your form with a smirk. “I went with something classy.”

“Classy?” you repeat, “You can practically see my whole ass.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Jonathan asks, causing you to scoff and giggle.

“Well, the iconic playboy bunny outfit design was finalised in the early 60s by a French designer, so yes I’d argue it’s very classy.” Edward says, adjusting the bunny ears on your head. “Playboy bunnies are also required to know and identify 143 brands of liquor, and bend down in a certain way to serve men their drinks.”

“Alright alright, I’m not going that far.” You say with a small laugh, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Not yet.” He mutters teasingly.

[azsazz]

Tethered

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Trying a little something different here...not sure how I'm going to explain it yet, but this fic is more of a fantasy aspect than my other fics.

Warnings: Mentions of burns and death.

Word Count: 3,569

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Pain.

The first thing you recognize when you come to is pain. That, and the darkness.

It consumes you from all angles, a darkness so deep and ancient it feels otherworldly. It coils around you like a frightened snake, smothering what little air you’re able to choke down. You blink once, twice, to attempt to clear your vision, but the black coating the space around you doesn’t so much as shift.

It’s how you know you’re in deep shit.

A sharp pounding pierces your skull, preventing you from shoving your shaky arms beneath your aching body and pushing to your feet. The feeling is worse than that of any wound bestowed upon you up until this point. Not even the King of Hel’s rigorous training or your mother’s disappearance had been so painful.

There’s a gnawing so deeply in your bones that you wonder if the feeling has always been with you, if you’ve somehow become accustomed to the feeling of your body screaming in agony.

Growing up in Hel, you should be used to such things.

Sunbursts spot your vision, the bleeding eclipses warring with the darkness. You hold your breath for a beat or two, trying to force your pulsing heart to calm. Exhaling slowly doesn’t help, only forces your breathing to become shakier.

It’s eerily silent, save for your panting breath. The screams of agony still ring in your ears, the King of Hel’s malicious laugh accompanying them as he splays himself across his throne, grinning at the two maidens sat in his lap.

As you scramble to gather your bearings, you wrack your muddled mind for where you might be and how you survived. You take inventory of as much as you’re able—the sharp flares of pain in your ribs, jagged and harsh with each inhale and exhale you take, and there’s a ringing in your ears that gives even the wailing spirits of Hel a run for their coin.

Hel. The last thing you remember was standing before your King, the sovereign of the underworld. He’d smirked down at you from his throne made of obsidian and bones, towering over not only you, but the entirety of Hel itself. The wicked curve of his lips and piercing dark eyes had only forced you down to your knees by looks alone.

You had not wanted to meet the gaze of your ruler, always hated his attention on you, but as one of his favored, you were often in his presence. Forced into doing his dirty work because of what you were born into, powers that were unlike anything in either Hel nor Haven, a one-of-a-kind ability he sought to take advantage of.

Your glittering quiver had been strapped across your back, and the image comes back to you vividly—clutching the grip of your bow as the King sealed your bargain with a red-hot hand to your skin and a wicked grin on his face.

A shuddering inhale makes your nose scrunch. You can still smell the remnants of your burning flesh beneath his palm.

You had nearly passed out from the pain. Maybe you did, because no matter how much you furrow your brows and wrack your brain, you can’t seem to figure out how you ended up where you are now, face down on the cold, hard ground.

Reaching out blindly for the bow that’s fallen from your fingers, you groan, the long sleeve of the silky white shirt you don beneath your armor brushes against the sensitive mark on your forearm. Your fingers creak as you uncurl them, rubble and debris scratching against your hand, burying deep beneath your nails as you search for your weapon.

The lightweight of your quiver is comfortable at your back. You choke down a shuddering groan as you lift your wings, biting your lip at the tenderness you feel at your back. They seem to be in one piece, as you twist them this way and that, only throbbing dully with bruises. Creatures of all sorts could be lining the darkness surrounding you, and you understand that you’re taking too long to rise, the shadows and nightmares of The Void keeping you off balance.

The King must have had one of his goons throw your hardly-conscious body into The Void after your bargain sealed. That’s how you ended up here. A spine cracking shudder makes bumps rise on your skin as your body stills.

Stories of The Void come rushing to you, and if you try hard enough, you can smell the lingering scents of the other worlds’—a smoldering smoke as black as The Void surrounds you, cloying your throat in thick waves as if trying to choke you, brand you with the reminder of where you are to return to. Cutting through the utter wickedness is the sharp perfume of something other, a fresh breeze lined with citrus that must be a figment of your imagination because there is no scent like that in Hel, nor breeze in The Void. It simply is.

It must be Haven, you decide. You only recognize the heavens from stories trickled down through the rift of worlds, from picturesque stories and secrets in shadow.

You haven’t known anything other than Hel. You cannot recall your father, hardly any of your mother, nor how you ended up in the King’s care. All you remember from your earliest memories are the soothing tones of your mother when you were young and scared, calming you in her arms before you ended up with the King, and the gleaming bow you never go without.

Forged by a millennia-old weapons-master, you’d been gifted the very weapon you seek now. No one knows how it had gotten to her—not even the King himself—only that the exquisite piece had come from the best battlement blacksmith Hel had to offer. You were no older than eight, eyes rounded with wonder at the sight of the gleaming gold bow settled on your bed, matching quiver and arrows accompanying it.

You shove the thoughts away. Your heart leaps into your throat the longer you search for your weapon. The pain zipping up your body help to focus you, and the strain threatens to give out as your fingers finally find the familiar metal grip of your bow. You hold on tightly and drag it to you, feeling the weapon for signs of damage.

Your bow soothes you as you trace your fingers across the solid gold riser. You know this weapon better than you know yourself. You could be blind and know the inside outs of your beloved weapon, like you are now, vision clouded with black as your fingers slide down the string, taut and flexible as ever.

Once you’re satisfied with the condition of your bow, you attempt to rise. The thick robes you’re clothed in had broken none of the fall. They’re heavy against your body as you struggle to gain your footing, stretching your wings wide to balance. The fabric brushes against your wound and you bite back a yelp at the pain that burns through you like a wildfire.

You had thought that without parents or a family to lose there would be nothing for the King to hold over your head, to force you into his tricks and deals, for him to rip away for his enjoyment, but the wretched ruler always found a way. You clenched your teeth so hard that you thought they would crack as you were forced to your knees before him, glaring daggers up at the beautiful ruler while he only grinned like a wolf, licking over those sharpened canines like he was out for your blood. Again.

He hadn’t let you agree to the terms of your bargain until you screamed.

Shoving to your feet, you splay your arms wide for balance. The harsh ground offered no grip beneath your boots and the blackness does little to help you stay stable. You try to keep your breathing calm when it sharpens as you look around. There’s nothing but the darkness and yourself, not a pinprick of light to guide you nor a sound to be heard. Not even your own thick-soled shoes make noise as you test a step forward.

The silence doesn’t break and the prowling creatures that reside in The Void don’t stir. Beings of nightmares, you’d been told when you were only a child and before your mother was taken from you. Your imagination couldn’t be sated when you were young, always begging for more and more stories of the world outside of Hel, questioning why you weren’t allowed to go anywhere else.

You hated the fires and heat of Hel, always burning a spot in your mind or your skin. You craved more, to see the open sky instead of storming clouds of thick smoke that perpetually covered Hel in charcoal waves. You yearned to see the stars and the moon and the heavens of Haven, with their buttery sunrises and dreamy dusks.

Your mother’s face is a long-forgotten memory, but the stories she told are not. Tales of animals and creatures so large, fit with razor-sharp teeth and glowing eyes stalking around The Void, monstrosities that not even the King of Hel could conjure.

Okay, you remind yourself, shaking the worry from your head. It’s time to make a move.

You’re sitting prey if you don’t. The feathers are a familiar comfort brushing your fingertips as you reach over your shoulder, sliding a singular arrow from the quiver with ease. The gold tipped point sings as it’s unsheathed from its home at your back and you notch it in the bowstring with controlled practice. It’s a motion that keeps your hands from shaking and soothes your breathing, a warrior at the ready, should any of the nightmare’s attack.

As you move, you realize that making your way through the darkness is no easy feat. Not a sound to guide your way nor a flicker of a torch to assess your surroundings. There is only darkness and silence and it beats at you with each tentative step you take. Slow progress is still progress, you try to remind yourself, but you can’t help but feel as if you’re talking in circles, the maze of shadows spinning your sense of direction, offering no reprieve.

Even the scents of Hel and Haven have faded, though you feel better about the former washing from your senses. If only the perfumed scent of Haven remained—you’d gladly follow the trail right up to the heavens, King of Hel be damned.

It had once been a dream to see Haven in all of its glory…before you realized that there was no escaping Hel, no escaping the King and his sinful grins and wicked games.

A sound forces her to still, limbs locking up before you force yourself to steady your stance and take aim, squinting through the black. Your pointed ears perk as you listen intently, not daring even a shallow breath. A soft noise sounds, like a cloth brushing across glass. It’s fleeting, morphing all too quickly into a screeching, grating noise that reverberates in your bones. Talons. They. Sound so similar to those of the King’s hounds giving chase down the long halls of his palace that there is no doubt in your mind the creature stalking you could shred you limb from limb.

The noise ricochets against the hard ground of The Void, echoing off of the nothingness that surrounds you. It makes your head spin, torso twisting to follow the movement as you search desperately. For the source.

Standing frozen, boy taut as you strain to glimpse any sign of where the lurking creature may be, a barely recognizable purr accompanies the grinding claws. With the darkness of The Void swallowing all movement, it feels as if the noises are consuming you, echoing in all directions and baffling your sense further.

Glowing, white eyes blink open, startling you. Your heart skips a beat in your chest as you jump, tightening your grip on your weapon and swinging it in the direction of the lurking beast, the tip of your arrow aimed right between those bright eyes.

You don’t dare more, though the smart thing to do would be to release the sharp-tipped arrow the beast’s way, but the creature doesn’t move. It blinks slowly, sleepily at you with its gleaming eyes, staring at you as if it’s curious instead of the horrifying nightmare the King and others had warned you about.

You curse silently as it stands. You’re pinned by those unnervingly bright. Eyes as it bounds closer. A reflection of what you’ve heard the moon looks like lies within its stare, though you don’t think the creature has seen the luminous beacon in the sky either. In the low light reflecting from its gaze, you catch sight of the sharp teeth as the nightmare licks its maw, and the pointed talons that clack against the stone ground as it closes in on you.

You could run. You can turn around and spring through the darkness for your life, pray to Haven that you don’t trip over a worse dark-dwelling beast, but with the deep ache in your bones you know that you won’t make it far fast enough.

The King of Hel hadn’t been lying when he taunted you with how terrifying these beasts could be.

You wonder for a fleeting moment if the ruler of Hel even expected you to make it out of The Void.

Heart racing in your chest, for the first time since you’ve mastered your bow, your fingers tremble around the taut string. You can let lose an arrow between its glowing hot eyes. There’s no falter in your aim, even with the miniscule shake. If you will it, your arrow will strike true.

The prowling beast halts only meters from you. Your heart pounds loudly in your chest and the beast must be able to hear it beating against your golden breastplate from the way that it cocks its head and blinks up at you. It nearly reaches your chest and you swallow harshly, knowing that one wrong move will have the beast snapping at you. You hardly breathe as lips curl away from blade-sharp teeth that glint in the glow of its blinding eyes.

There are only a handful of seconds to decide your next move—to bare your own teeth and show the creature what you’re made of, firing the gold-tipped arrow, or stand down and hope that the predator does the same.

One breath, two, and you watch the creature lower itself onto its haunches. Your hands fall to your side in relief. The arrow is a surety in your grasp as you slowly sheath it back in place at your back. A surety that if the beast attacks, you’d be even more of a fool than the King ever claimed.

Following your movements with bright eyes, the growling of the beast falters, then quiets. It straightens, sitting taller, more menacing, and nearly meets your gaze straight on. It stares at you until your empty hand is back at your side, bargain mark throbbing as it brushes against your cloak.

You’re just as confused as the creature across from you, staring at each other like two sides of the same coin. It’s like you know the beast, seen it in your dreams or heard tales about it from your mother, but your mind is muggy, and you can’t grasp where the familiar feeling is from. You see yourself in its eyes, lost in the darkness with no light to guide you out.

As if the creature understands this, it dips its chin to study you.

Its breath is balmy against your throat and it sends shivers up your spine. Your lip’s part to gasp at the same time the creatures open to taste your scent, deciding if you’re a threat or not. The heaving breaths against your skin tickle, but there’s nothing funny about the way the creature stills, as if the raging beast wants to slash through your delicate flesh, to feel your hot blood sticky beneath its paws.

“Help me,” you dare whisper. It’s spoken as quietly as your voice allows, but the sound carries into the void as if you screamed it.

A howl answers that makes you flinch and itch to press your palms against her ears. It hadn’t come from the beast before you, who snuffs in response, its full row of teeth reappearing as its eyes narrow, staying tightly locked on you.

“Help me,” you plead, desperation clinging to your words. You need to get out of here, need to breathe the night air and see the real moon and feel its silvery rays upon your skin just once, you need to find somewhere safe so you can begin working towards what you came here for, why the bargain mark burns with every movement. Your freedom. It’s all you want from the King, from Hel, to be able to roam as you please, leaving the underworld to find something greater.

You want to remember something other than the harrowing sights of Hel, than the King’s sharp smile mocking you every time you close your eyes. The things he’s made you do, the things you’ve made yourself do. This cannot be the end.

You won’t let it be.

“I’m trying to find Velaris,” you continue when another yip joins the first. A hunting party, likely moving this way. The sounds are closer this time, but the darkness doesn’t allow you to gauge just how far they roam or how many there are. Your gaze sweeps around as if the soft light emitting from the beast’s eyes will allow you to see the others. The blackness leers in response, no longer the sinister silence but instead filled with a terrifying array of noises that will only enhance the harrowing nightmares that plague you. “I need to find the city.”

Your fingers tighten around the handle of your bow but the action does nothing to ease the worry eating at you.

Maybe it’s the raw despair in your tone or the glistening look in your eyes or the thunderous beating of your heart that makes the beast take pity on you.

Blinking up at you, the creature slinks closer, damp snout pressing into your hand. You hold back the flinch at the coldness of it, and it gives you a gentle nudge as if to say, ‘Why didn’t you say so?’

Releasing a sigh of relief, the beast allows you to press your hand to the top of its furry head as it leads you towards further darkness. The creature’s mane is soft and thick between your uneasy hold, leaving you to wonder if this being isn’t a menacing creature bred to hunt within The Void, but one that had been just as scared as you.

The howls of creatures around them die down as you’re lead through black. You don’t know if you should be breathing easier or harder when the noises die out completely, leaving your breathing and the clacking of the beasts claws against the stony ground as the only sounds as you walk.

Blinking, you are convinced your mind is playing tricks on you at first, as you begin making out different shapes. Black turns to a deep navy, then lighter until you can see silhouettes of trees and mountains beyond. The hard stone turns to soft earth laden with thick grasses reaching nearly to your knees.

The air is sharp, crisp with the oncoming scent of a storm. Your head snaps towards the sky, searching for a star, the moon, anything you can to ensure you’ve ended up in the correct place, but thick, rumbling clouds cover every inch of the star-smattered sky.

Disappointment floods your veins with ice. You’d been wishing to see for yourself since you were a child and your mother had spoken so highly of the bright splotch in the sky, and it has gnawed at you as you grew into the female you are now, proud and strong.

With a disheartened sigh, you turn to face the creature who’d been leading you through the darkness, only to find it gone. You hadn’t felt the beast slip from your grasp, entranced on the opportunity to see the beautiful night sky. It had disappeared on those stealthy paws, dipping from your hold and back into the swallowing darkness of The Void.

It looms behind you, an open, cavernous mouth that seems to creep slowly, consuming the trees and stars and sky. You wonder if it had somehow consumed the moon, if The Void is a living being all its own—a trap waiting patiently to devour what wanders into its well laid snare.

A shudder works its way up your spine as you stare. You know well that you will be back, when it is time to return to Hel with the King’s prize, and then and only then, will you have your freedom.

The word burns your skin just thinking about it. A time where you will be able to roam freely from the nightmares of Hel, doing as you please without the King there to loom and rule over you. The taste of the salty night breeze is only a tease of what you will soon have.

[campingwiththecharmings]

Some Like it Hot (2)

AN: HIIIII. Right. So. Part one is here. This...diverted quite a bit from what I had originally intended but, I can't say that I'm too mad about it. 🤭 This has very little to no plot, negl.

(Un-beta’d)

Poe is your muse and you can't help but see the beauty in everything he does.

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?) Words: 1,481 Pairing: Firefighter!Poe Dameron x Photographer!F!Reader Warnings: PWP, smuffy af, p in v, idiots in love, morning sex, please let me know if i missed anything. AO3

——————

You wake gently, the sunlight streaming through the thin curtains, filling the room with its glow. You smile, eyes fluttering as you stretch, allowing yourself to sink into the mattress a little. The sheets rustle beside you as Poe shifts, drawing your gaze. You take a moment to study him, splayed on his belly, your eyes tracing the soft curve of his lips, the sharp cut of his jaw, smooth brow, and stubbled cheeks. He’s a work of art, really. Just…stunning. Every inch of him is perfect, as if he’d been chiseled from a block of marble by the gods themselves. And if that wasn’t enough, he also had a heart of gold. Never in your life have you met someone so kind and caring, so ready and willing to help others. 

You’d started dating almost immediately after your encounter at your studio (quite literally that same evening), and now here you are, months later waking up with him in your bed. Maybe it’s strange but you love watching him sleep, love to watch the light from the windows play over his bare skin, love to study the way his short curls fall across his forehead. The artist in you longs to capture this moment, and you can’t help but give in. Silently, you reach over to the bedside table and grab your phone, quickly swiping the camera app open and pointing it at him. You take a few moments to get the angle just right, then click the shutter button. 

He knows, of course, knows your gallery is full of photos of him (and occasionally, him and you). That’s not to say that he really gets it though, how inspired you are by him. As far as he’s concerned, he’s just a regular guy. He’s supportive though, indulging your fascination.

Unable to help yourself, you roll toward him, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips. He stirs almost immediately, his full lashes fluttering as he opens his warm, brown eyes. You smile at him, pushing your fingers through his mussed curls.

“Morning,” you greet, your voice soft as you rouse him from sleep.

He returns your smile, eyelids heavy as he shifts and rolls onto his side to face you.

“Morning,” he says, his voice rough with sleep. 

His eyes drop to the phone still in your hand and his lips quirk in amusement. “Taking creeper shots of me again?”

You chuckle at his teasing, your cheeks warming. “Guilty.”

He grunts, reaching over and plucking the device from your grasp. “My turn.”

“No, stop,” you laugh, covering your face with your hands. “I haven’t even washed my face yet, come on.”

He tsks, grabbing your hands and playfully pushing them away. “You got me, only fair that I get you.”

You groan theatrically, pouting at him as he sits up and quickly your phone into position. “Yeah but, I’m not you.”

He snorts, the click of your shutter reaching your ears. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Suddenly, you lunge, kicking the blankets away to free your legs and arms. He chuckles, moving the phone out of your reach. 

“Not all of us are as photogenic as you, Poe, just—give it back.”

He rolls onto his back laughing, your phone still clutched in his hand. “A photographer who doesn’t like getting their picture taken. Aren’t you a cliche?”

You growl, crawling over and up his torso, arm outstretched as you reach again for your phone.  “Shut up.”

His laughter becomes muffled as your chest presses against his face, the vibration sending a tiny shiver down your spine. You rise up slightly on your knees, the hand not reaching for your phone braced on his muscled shoulder. His free hand comes to rest on your lower back, steadying you as you reach. 

When you finally manage to take your phone back, he doesn't put up much of a fight, instead taking the opportunity to pull you even closer with his other hand. He nuzzles your breasts through your t-shirt, your breath hitching when his nose bumps against your nipple.

“You had ulterior motives, I see,” you breathe, the fingers of your free hand tangling in his hair as his hands slip down and underneath your shirt.

He chuckles, moving his face back from your chest as he pulls your shirt up and over your head. His hands slide up to your shoulders once you’re bared to him, his eyes meeting yours as he leans in to take your nipple in his mouth. Your lips part in a gasp, your fingers tightening in his curls, and he groans at the slight sting of his scalp. The vibration makes your hips jolt against him, your body instinctively seeking friction as desire quickly wells inside you.

You sigh his name as he releases your nipple, mouthing his way over to your other breast to lavish the same attention. 

“So beautiful,” he mumbles, flicking the tip of his tongue against the pebbled flesh before sucking it into the molten heat of his mouth.

Your head falls back with a moan, your phone slipping from between your fingers and landing on the plush comforter of your bed. Poe’s hands slide down to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he encourages you to keep grinding against him. You can feel the hardness of his cock even through the thick fabric of his pajama pants, your need for him growing. He groans as you move, pulling back from your chest, the absence of his mouth dragging your gaze back to his. You swallow hard, the combination of lust and awe in his eyes making goosebumps rise on your skin.

He pulls your mouth back to his then, licking into it languidly, as if he has all the time in the world. You melt into him, your bare chests pressing together as you wind your arms around his neck. You let yourself get lost in his kiss, in the soft, wet slide of his lips as they brush against yours. It feels like you’re drowning, drowning in a sea of bliss, a sea where Poe is your only lifeline.

Poe slips his fingers beneath the edge of your panties, his thumb briefly circling your clit as he slips the others lower. He works you open gently, your cries of pleasure muffled by his lips and tongue. He brings you to your peak quickly, drawing out your pleasure with each pump and flick of his fingers.

You share a moan when you finally sink down onto his length, your slick heat welcoming him, engulfing him. He pulls your mouth back to his as you begin to ride him, your body rising and falling shallowly at first. His hand on your hip helps to steady you as you gradually increase your pace, your hands braced on his shoulders. 

“Poe,” you whine, throwing your head back as you chase the pleasure racing through you. “Feels so good—fuck, so good.”

He groans as he watches you, his eyes almost black with desire. “You feel like a dream, sweetheart. So beautiful like this.”

A shiver races through you at his words, at his attention. He’s always like this, so present, making you feel so desired, like there’s no one else he’s ever wanted so badly as you. He pulls you close, pressing his forehead against yours as you race toward your release, groaning as you move and clench around him. You moan when his thumb finds your clit, his touch bringing you even closer to the edge.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he breathes, pushing his hips up from the bed every time you sink down onto him again. “Take what you need.”

A few more thrusts and you’re there, body going taught, mouth slack, as you sail over the edge. His moan is broken as you fall apart around him, your body squeezing him, trying to take him with you. He spills himself deep inside you with a groan moments later, his hips stuttering with the force of his release. 

You stay like that for a while, just wrapped around each other, his softening cock still sheathed inside you.  It’s comforting, having him this close, feeling this connected to him. Poe strokes your back soothingly, leaning in to press a soft kiss against the corner of your mouth. You smile, winding your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning across your skin as he melts into you.

“You working today?” you ask, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

He makes a noise, then shakes his head. “Nope. I’m all yours today, baby.”

You chuckle, eyelashes fluttering as he presses a hot kiss against the side of your neck. “Mmm, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

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