#now i wanna cry instead of being excited ab something

[kumikocchi]

aight i’m just saying if someone you’re talking to is giddy/excited ab something there is no need to be fuckin rude about it/shut them down unnecessarily

[seongsangi]

can’t keep my hands to myself

pairing: johnny x reader

summary: a night alone with johnny in his apartment, what do you think happens?

word count: 2.2k

warnings: slight degradation? spanking, choking, sum good ole smutttt

read part 2

“So, what are we watching?” you ask Johnny, plopping down on the couch beside him. His roommate is out for the night, so Johnny invited you over knowing the long day at work you had. It was nice to wind down with your boyfriend, opening your arms for him to hug you.

“Whatever you wanna watch baby.” Johnny wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer so he can snuggle you. He lifts your legs to lay them across his thighs while tucking his head underneath your chin, his hair tickling your chest. The intimacy is not new to you and you love that about him, how touchy feely he is and how he loves being so close to you, holding you like he never wants to let go. “Can we watch anime? Oooh, can we watch the new episode of Attack on Titan? I’ve been waiting so long!!” Your voice gets high pitched, which he finds so cute seeing you all excited.

During the episode, you wrap your arms around him, caressing his hair and stroking his arm gently. His subtle hands don’t go unnoticed as they gradually move across your warm skin. First, his hands were at your waist, slipping underneath your tank top. Eventually, one of his hands travels along your thigh, the skirt you wore tonight leaving your lower half exposed. He draws slow circles on your bare skin before settling for cupping your ass, pushing your skirt up even further. He takes a deep breath, letting the scent of your perfume fill his senses. “Mmm, you smell good,” he says as he gives your ass a quick squeeze.

“I’m wearing the perfume you got me,” you giggle.

“I wish you weren’t wearing anything at all,” he snuggles his head further into your cleavage, the tank top giving him perfect access to your mounds. You give him a harmless slap on his arm, telling him you want to finish this episode first. “We can still watch, I’ll just be doing my thing.” Before you can ask what thing, he tugs one strap of your shirt and bra down at the same time, swirling your nipple around his tongue. You can’t say you didn’t expect this, Johnny loves to have his mouth on you any way he can. Even during something as simple as watching anime, he can’t resist playing with your tits.

His eyes are paying attention to the TV but his tongue isn’t letting up on your breasts. He’s distracting you from the episode, tickling your sensitive nub. You squirm a little when he bites just hard enough to send pleasure through your body. You tug the other strap down, grabbing his face to bring it towards your neglected mound in a silent plea. He knows you love it, and who is he to say no? He gives the same treatment to your other nipple, watching you close your eyes as you get lost in the simple pleasure. So much for finishing the episode.

His hand pushes your knees apart, finding purchase in between your legs. He smirks against your skin when he feels the arousal on your panties, rubbing slow circles over your clit. His lips detach from your nipple, opting to nip and suck around your breasts. His hot lips trail up your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses to your sweet spots. When you feel like you can’t take it any more, you quickly straddle his hips, resting your hands on his chest. His hands glide over your thighs as you settle your core right over his bulge, moving your hips back and forth slightly.

"You can’t even be patient baby, I was just trying to make you feel good.” He gives you a particularly hard slap on your ass cheek, making your body jolt. He immediately soothes the area, loving the way you grind your hips harder into his. “I know something that will make me feel even better,” you fight back a smirk when you notice Johnny taking in your figure, watching your hips move desperately. He loves the sight of you on top, chest bare and littered with love marks. He lifts your hips slightly, pushing your panties to the side. He slides his fingers across your lips, coating his hand in your arousal. “Damn, didn't know you were this wet. All for me?” You bite your lip at the question, feeling embarrassed at his words. He holds your gaze as he slips two fingers in easily, pumping them in and out of you at a pace that just makes you crave more. He knows how to work your body, teasing you in ways you can’t say no to.

“Let’s go to my room,” he makes a move to get up but you push him back down by his shoulders. “No, right here,” you demand. He cocks an eyebrow at you for your tone, which makes you lean into his face, a breathy ��please, I want you so bad” ghosting his ear. He groans as you press soft kisses to his neck, your hard nipples pressing into his chest. “What if Jaehyun comes home?”

“And what if he does?” Honestly, that wouldn’t be something you’re opposed to, core clenching slightly at the thought of it. He feels the shit eating grin on your face as your lips trail his skin, wrapping his hand in your hair and pulling your head up. You squeal, but the grip he has is deliciously painful. “You’re filthy,” but he knows deep down he wouldn’t mind either. Maybe something could be arranged. But right now, he just wants to ruin you.

“Get on your knees,” he lets your hair go, watching as you get into position like the good girl you are for him. He pulls his pants off and you’re met with his impressive length. Johnny gets comfortable on the couch, scooting down and spreading his legs so you can settle better in between them. Your hand reaches out to pump his length, slapping it against your tongue as your hand trails up his shirt, exposing more of his perfect skin. Your fingers feel for his abs as he watches you take him in your mouth. He’s too big for you to take all at once, but you try to take as much as you can. His lips are parted, eyes clouded over with lust at the sight of you with your mouth full of him.

His hands create a makeshift ponytail for you as you get his dick wet, making a mess just the way he likes it. He tells you to look at him as he stills your head, thrusting his hips into your mouth as you brace your hands on his thighs. He doesn’t stop until you’re gagging, tapping his thigh a few times as a signal. You pull away slightly to catch your breath, a trail of spit connecting your lips to his tip. He groans at the sight, tears in your eyes but the way you’re biting your lip tells him you loved every bit of it. He just can’t get enough of you.

“Come up here.” Johnny takes his shirt off as you stand up, grabbing your hips and placing you into position on your stomach over his thigh, your ass poking out of your skirt. His slides his hands slowly up the back of your legs, making you bite your lip in anticipation. “This is such a short skirt baby, you should wear it more often.” He flips your skirt over, grabbing a handful of your cheeks with his large hands. He appreciates the lace for tonight, but it’s in the way of what he really wants. You lift your hips for him to pull your panties down, tossing them aside. He spreads your thighs, sliding his fingers over your slit. You can’t keep your hips still, moving them around to feel more of his fingers. He lands a harsh slap to your ass, a sharp gasp leaving your lips. Johnny loves watching your ass jiggle, giving you a couple more spanks back to back. You cry out, the way it hurts is just too good. You get more and more turned on with each spank, core clenching around nothing, glistening with arousal.

When your ass turns red with handprints, Johnny kneads and massages your cheeks while sliding two fingers into your core at the same time, trying to distract you from the pain. God, he drives you so crazy. He pumps in and out of you so fast, your hips are moving on their own. The sound of your wetness on his fingers fills the room along with your moaning, music to his ears. He enjoys watching you lose yourself, but he stops once he sees you reaching to rub your clit. He pulls his fingers out, telling you to sit up. You do without second thought, eager for him to have his way with you. Your back is to his chest and Johnny has his hand in your hair again, pulling your head back to rest on his shoulder. He slips his fingers into your mouth, tasting yourself on him and licking his fingers clean. He loves how innocent you look when you’re doing such sinful things.

He lines himself up with your core but doesn’t slide in. You whimper slightly, hands running up and down his thighs, waiting for him to stop teasing. He lets go of your hair to grab your waist instead, studying your face, eyes pleading for him to do something. He leans down so close that your lips are touching, but he doesn’t kiss you. “You still want it?” He knows you do, he just loves to see you at his mercy. You nod eagerly, burning up with every second that passes by. “Then you’ll fucking get it.”

He inches his way in, leaving your mouth open at the stretch. He lets out a guttural moan, the feeling of your warm walls welcoming him is almost too much. You clench around him, knowing it feels good for him. His hands run up your chest, wrapping an arm around your front to keep you close as he fucks you. You love this angle because it makes you see stars, his dick reaching so deep in you. “Tell me how it feels princess,” you can barely hear his voice. All you can manage is a string of curses, which tells him all he needs to know.

“Look at you, can’t even talk. This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?” He reaches down to rub circles over your clit, sending you into overdrive. His tip hits that sweet spot with every thrust and his fingers send waves of pleasure coursing through your body. “Oh fuck, Johnny,” you moan wantonly, core clenching at how close you are. “Yeah baby, you love it, huh?”

“Yes, yes, I love it, I love it when you fuck me.”

At that moment, Johnny’s phone rings. “Oh shit, it’s Jaehyun.”

“Answer it, what if he needs something?” He reaches for his phone, slowing his thrusts down but still sliding deep in you.

“What’s up, bro?” Johnny asks.

“So I know you’re with Y/N right now, but my date bailed on me and I needed someone to talk to. Are you busy?” Johnny almost scoffs, he’s currently balls deep in you, of course he’s busy.

“Umm, give me like five minutes. Are you on the way back?” Johnny rubs your clit even faster, earning a drawn out moan from you. He shoots you a glare, but the cheeky smile you boast while biting your lips tells him you did it on purpose.

“I’m actually already back but I’m glad I didn’t walk in now.”

“Yeah, don’t. I’ll let you know when the coast is clear.” Johnny sets his phone down, bringing his attention back to you. His hips immediately pick up the pace again, back where he left off without missing a beat, making you scream his name over and over. He slides his hand up your front, grabbing your throat to cut off your airway just enough to make your mind hazy. He whispers praises in your ear, telling him how good your pussy is, how he loves when you moan his name, how he loves wrecking you like the slut you are. Before you know it, you cum with a loud cry, legs shaking underneath you. If it weren’t for Johnny’s grip on your neck, you’re sure you would have fallen over.

“Baby girl, I hope you don’t think that was it.” Johnny pushes you down, knocking the wind out of you. He lifts your hips up as you grab onto the couch, his hands resting beside your head. He pummels into you, chasing his own high and watching your ass bounce with every thrust. The sound of skin slapping is so loud, you wonder if the neighbors can hear. You try to muffle your moans into the couch, not wanting to be too loud as he wrecks you. Johnny finds it increasingly hard to hold out any longer, especially once you tighten your walls around him, encouraging him to cum in you. A few more thrusts, and he fills you up, coating your walls with his cum. You really feel filthy now, dirty and used, both your arousals leaking down your thighs. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Unbeknownst to you, Johnny didn’t hang up. And neither did Jaehyun.

[melaninenthusiasts]

Moment | Jafar

"It all began with a lamp and a fantasy..."

The Arabian palace was humungous. It could take atleast 200 guests to stay in. The architecture was out of this world; one of a kind. The food was magnificent. The chefs worked day and night and could make anything you wanted them to at any time. The soldiers were the best of the best. They could stop anyone who tried to come in and intrude. Except for Aladdin, he was the smartest streetrat ever.

After the hoodlum created himself a fiasco by taking the magic lamp and turning himself into a prince to lure Jasmine, Jafar had to do some things that people wouldn't be proud of. Things like taking the lamp and locking Jasmine and her father away. And hypnosising the entire palace staff to do whatever he says. And make a wish turning him into the most powerful man on earth at large.

Jafar had the extravagant palace all to himself. No queen by his side or anyone to talk to. Here he was thinking about his next move. He was tired of being second best.

"I'm the king of the world and yet I'm still bored," Jafar admits to himself.

Ever since he became the most powerful man on earth it's been lonely at the top. He has no one to speak to but his parrot and the genie. Not even the servants and staff he orders around because they're trapped in the sunken place. Jafar had some pleasure with Jasmine and multiple other women but nothing excited him the way that he wanted.

He had all of the money, sex, and power that he could ever wish for.

Jafar wanted someone who could read his mind inside and out. Someone who could help him take away all of his pain and let out all of his emotions into.

"You can always use another wish to fulfill your fantasies, " the blue mystical giant says.

"What should I do?" Jafar asks knowing the genie's rules.

"I can't tell you want to do. How about you make a wish. You know the words to say."

Genie wouldn't say it out loud with Jafar being his master but he missed Aladdin. He never had a friend like him. Yes, he wanted to become a prince but it was because of his love for Jasmine. He wasn't like the other master's that he had. Jafar was the worst one yet. So typical at that.

The Genie has three rules: he cannot kill anyone, he cannot make people fall in love with each other, and he cannot revive the dead.

The unwritten and unsaid rule was making your wish as specific as possible. You can only have three wishes and you don't want to waste it.

Jafar grabbed the golden lamp putting his palm against it back and forth.

"I want a melanin goddess that can give me an experience of a lifetime wear it'll be a moment but feel like eternity." He continued to rub the lamp as he thought. "Something that no one else has ever experience."

He finally let go of the magical lamp then the magic began to happen.

"Yes, master. Your wish is my command." The God-like blue Genie then folded his shackled arms creating this magical brown storm with beautiful golden specks. The wind damn near blew everything away. It was so strong and powerful.

Jafar got excited to see what would happen next. He held on the the edge of his throne as he watched his wish manifest slowly.

There were colors and different hues of browns and reds swishing around in a tornado along with sparkles. Then it ceased out of nowhere. The Genie was back in the lonely lamp where he belonged. The sidekick parrot of his flew off somewhere.

"My name is Victoria and I am here for fulfill all of your fantasies," the goddess says before him.

"She's perfect, " Jafar says in awe of her. "Gorgeous brown skin, amazing body, and that sweet sultry tone." He smirks as he gets up from his throne.

He admires her in the brown lingerie accessoried with gold jewels.

"I got a feeling that you brought me to you.." she smirked at him as she walks up the stairs to the throne. They were now inches apart from eachother.

Jafar licked his lips as he gazed into her deep brown eyes that started to turn gold. She then kissed his lips caressing his beard as he felt on her body. The world they were now in began to change into this abstract gold and red one.

His fantasy was now coming to life. The goddess was very much real. He could touch her, feel her, and he felt even more powerful.

"I wanna get inside of you," Jafar says in a lustful tone as his hands wander her body.

"You do?" The goddess says in a low sweet voice teasing him.

"I do," Jafar whispers tugging her body to his shirtless body. The goddess felt on his built physique admiring his toned muscles.

"This is your moment," she whispers back to him.

Before he knew it he was in this beautiful bedroom with brown silk sheets and golden decor.

Jafar was laid down in the bed in awe of the melanin goddess with his brown skin glistening. His abs flexed as he breathed in nervousness. There were just enough chest hairs on his body.

She then crawled her way onto the bed teasingly slow. He watched her in excitement biting his bottom lip.

"Tell me how bad you want me," Victoria says as she sits on his lap with her hands trailing his physique. He liked how her nails we done in brown and gold. Everything about her was sexy.

"I want you so bad," Jafar breathes out trailing his hand up and down her body once again.

He looked into her deep brown eyes once again watching them turn golden before she kissed him.

The room was turning into red sand. The walls were dropping right before them. There was nothing left instead of the bed.

Jafar kissed on the Victoria's neck inhaling her shea butter sent as he unveiled her robe. He hugged her body closed to his worship her like the goddess she was. He was feigning for her badly. He didn't want this to end.

His lips trailed down her cleavage as he unclipped her bra. Jafar felt a satisfaction in hearing her moan from his teasing pecks. He continued to worship her body by massaging the fall of her back.

Jafar was desperately in love with her. If he didn't want to save his last wish for something else, he would make Victoria his wife. But that's the price that he has to pay.

It's like Victoria's body was calling his name. It was saying 'I want you inside me' the more and more they went further.

The goddess stuck her tongue down his throat pinning Jafar's arms against the bed.

Usually in bed, Jafar would be the alpha but this was different. Victoria then rose up ready to ride his magic carpet. With her hands trailing down his upper body, she rose up with a smirk. Jafar so was in love that he didn't notice that she was in cuffs.

"Victoria..." Jafar moaned out softly.

The goddess thrusted her body onto his satisfying him. Jafar let out a grunt in amusement. He let himself become mesmerized by her. He let the golden specks on her eyes and the soft cries on her voice take all control of her.

Jafar loved how she let out moans as she took him in.

"Pussy so good..." he moaned out.

The goddess let out her last moan yelling his name to the fullest. She fucked his so good that he could cry Jafar hit his climax letting out his last husky grunt.

"I'm gonna—I'm gonna cum..." he breathed as he nutted in her.

Victoria then gave him one last kiss grabbing his soft beard with her hand then letting go. She smirked sliding out of him and put the rest of her lingerie on.

She then walked away leaving Jafar in the cuffs as the bed disappeared.

"Hey, where are you going?" He asked her. Victoria turned back around and smirked at him charmingly. "And why am I in cuffs?" He added.

Victoria laughed silently to herself. "Moments over." She said before strutting away in the red sand as Jafar sank deeply in it.

"Wait..." he cried out. "We can't be done yet." He fell deeper and deeper into the dark whole.

Before Jafar knew it, he was back in his lonely Palace. He already began to miss the melanin goddess.

The Genie laughed to himself in his tiny living space. 

"He didn't day what kind of goddess. Gotta be more specific than that!" He cracked up.

Victoria was a jaguar melanin goddess. One that kept many men sinking into the floor after she was done with them leaving them wanting more. It was her specialty.

—

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[thiswasinevitableid]

Can you do 60 for indruck, NSFW? Thank you so much! Love your work!

Here it is! I set it in the same world as this sternclay fill. Credit to @bellafarallones for playing in this space on discord. Apollo is from my Super hero AU

“All I’m sayin is it seems mighty unfair to me that one fella gets a handler-assistant type deal and the rest of us don’t.” Duck crosses his arms as Ned fiddles with the pen on his desk.

“You’re not wrong, dear boy, but Apollo was in high demand from the higher ups-”

“Because he’s a shallow dipshit with a mean streak who’ll be good for ratings?”

“Precisely. He demanded in his contract that we allow his twin to continue his work as his photographer and assistant. He has over a million followers on Instagram, so those photos will be a boost to the show. Just try to get along for the camera’s?”

“His brother ain’t even on camera.” Duck mutters.

“I meant with Apollo.”

Duck shrugs, defeated, “sure thing, Ned.”

As he walks back to the main house, he mulls over the fact that the twin (Indrid, he thinks that’s the guys name) bugs him more than Apollo does. Apollo is vain, mean, and selfish, but at least that gets him things, even makes sense for the kind of show they’re on. Indrid gains nothing by helping him out here. Except protection from the bully, which Duck finds to be the worst kind of cowardice. Hopefully Vincent, this season’s bachelor, will see through the “influencer” and send him packing ASAP.

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

Four weeks in, and this is exactly what Duck was worried about. Not only is Indrid hovering around his brother like a nervous moth (excet when cameras are near, at which point he ducks out of frame), he’s doing fucking nothing to reign him in.

A few frontrunners are starting to emerge, and with that claws are coming out. Barclay, a chef and all around nice guy, is the target of choice. Nico and Josh both took bites out of him this morning. But Apollo sunk his teeth in like a dog on a fox, calling him, among other things, a pathetic, six-foot puppy dog who no man would ever want. The cook left noticeably teary eyed. Duck was about to block the cameras from following when Joseph beat him to it. Which is weird, because he thought Joe couldn’t stand Barclay. Apollo flounces off, but Duck corners Indrid where he’s been stoically watching his brother be a raging asshole.

“What the fuck man?”

‘Wrong twin.” Indrid says flatly, indicating his silver hair, tied back in a half-bun. His dark roots are showing and his eyebrows are black, unlike Apollo’s immaculate blonde dye job and bleached brows.

“Nope, right one. You’re his handler, cant’ you fuckin intervene when he’s doin’ shit like that? Or are you just here to let him hurt whoever he feels like?”

Indrid fixes him with a bitter smile, “If there were a way to make my brother be kind or, indeed, see others as people, don’t you think I’d have found it and used it everyday since?”

“I-”

“You people have no idea how much I’m already doing. I kept him from going after you yesterday by reminding him he looks ugly when he yells on camera. And if nothing else console yourself with the fact you all have only to deal with him for a few months. Some of us have endured twenty-eight years of it.”

With that, he turns and stalks from the room. As he leaves, Duck can’t shake the thought that his black denim jacket and worn jeans fit him better than Apollo’s designer ones ever could.

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

Indrid understands why there’s so much alcohol on set, but he can’t partake (too bitter) and it makes Apollo even harder to handle than usual. Which is why Indrid is out on the grounds at ten p.m, intending to hide from his brother until dawn.

At six weeks in, fan favorites are getting more established and Indrid, needing to predict Apollo’s mood in order to do his job, is keeping a close eye on them. His twin is well-liked for being snarky and hot, though he suspects the large number of contestants means there have been limited chances for his unpleasant side to be showcased. Joseph is another, because of course he is, movie-star handsome with an interesting past. Barclay is beloved for the very things that the other contestants torment him for. And Duck? Duck is quickly becoming the one people think Vincent will choose.

Indrid thinks they’re right. He’s charming in an understated way, funny, and while Apollo needles him for his “dad bod,” Indrid and Vincent have both noticed the muscles in his arms. Who gives a damn about flat abs? Indrid would much rather have something soft to rest his head on while those green eyes look lovingly down at him. His crush on Duck is useless, persistent, and must be hidden from Apollo at all costs.

His foot catches something solid and he tumbles over the obstacle to land ass-first on the lawn.

“Ow.” He glares at the object. The object turns out to be Duck Newton, who's obviously drunk as he sits up.

“Sorry man, thought no one’d come out here. Oh it’s you, it's, uh, fuck, fuck c'mon” he snaps his fingers as he searches his thoughts, “It's cute Apollo!”

“Indrid.” Surely Duck didn’t mean to use that adjective. Right?

“No, I’m Duck?”

He snickers, “No, I meant I’m Indrid.”

“Ohhh, right. You're Indrid. I'm Duck. That's the big dipper” He points at the sky. Indrid follows the line and grins, delighted.”

“It is!”

“Uhhuh. C'mere, can show you more.” Duck pats the spot beside him and lays back. Indrid scoots closer and reclines as well, making appreciative sounds each time Duck shows him a constellation.

As they’re studying the sky, the other man whispers, “Can I tell you a secret? I, I think Joe’n Barclay are into each other now."

“The way they look at each other is not exactly subtle.”

‘“Heh, yeah.” he links his hands across his belly, “I think they're in love. You ever been in love?”

“No.” He sighs, not wanting to dwell on that pile of baggage, “You?”

“Nope. And, uh, don’t, don’t tell anyone but I don't think I am with Vincent. Maybe I could be? Does that make me a bad person? He's nice, think he likes me a lot but, I, I dunno.”

“Not being in love with someone doesn’t make you a bad person. No more than loving someone does.”

Indrid is hard to surprise; years of getting out ahead of his brother and father taught him how to see things coming. But nothing could prepare him for Duck rolling to hide his face against Indrid’s chest. Not knowing what else to do, he pats his back, notices a woodsy scent tingling his nose.

“You smell good.” He winces; that was too creepy, now Duck will pull the comforting bulk of his body away.

“Thanks. I bought a bunch of cologne when I realized I was actually going to be a contestant. News clothes too. Thought it would give me an edge but...I dunno, can't compete with a guy like your brother.”

“Join the club.” Indrid reaches up to toy with a lock of Duck’s black hair, expecting Duck to bat him away. Instead, he sighs and turns his head to give Indrid better access.

“You could compete with ‘im. You're cuter. Nicer too.”

“Oh. Ah. Thank you.”

Duck’s fidgets with the mothman pin on Indrid’s jacket, “You wanna cuddle?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“No one cuddles with me. And we ain’t allowed to cuddle Vincent yet.” He looks up, lips pouting just enough to be charming.

Indrid let’s a purr enter his voice, “That’s a shame. I’m happy to cuddle.”

Duck rolls more of his body onto Indrid, resolutely nestling his head under his chin and tangling their legs together. His hands stay on Indrid’s chest and shoulders, though he’s now drunkenly petting Indrid’s collarbone, making him shiver. He expends four months worth of daring in a second, wrapping his arms around the curves of Duck’s torso. When Duck’s fingers brush skin instead of shirt, Indrid whimpers, then bites his lip and prays it went unnoticed.

“You don’t get cuddled much either, do you?” Duck murmurs thoughtfully.

“No.”

“Damn shame, you’re real good at it. Can cuddle me any time.”

Indrid “mmhmms” knowing the promise is like the stars; bright and comforting in the darkness, but ultimately beyond his reach.

Three day later, he drops his guard; Apollo’s been on his good behavior since Vincent’s been spending more time with him. You’d think Indrid would learn by now that all his venom has to go somewhere.

He’s huddled down in the rec room trying not to cry; it’s pathetic enough that he let such childish insults get to him, but to cry over them would confirm everything his brother said.

“Indrid? You, uh, you okay?” Duck’s reflection in the darkened T.V approaches his own.

“I'm fine.” It’s the same inflection he’s used hundreds of times, but Duck sits down on the couch all the same.

“Do you, uh, need a hug?’

“No.” He replies a hair too quickly.

“Do you want one?”

“......Badly.”

Duck opens his arms and Indrid shifts on the cushions, doing his best to curl his long limbs so they’ll fit in his embrace. The shorter man notices, concern flashing on his face.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Okay. You, uh, wanna hear the most exciting news of the day?” He waits for Indrid to nod, “there was a cougar sightin’ in the foothills near here!”

“That is both very exciting and alarming.”

“Doubt it’d go after folks, they try to steer clear of people. We don’t have ‘em back home, but you learn what to do when you’re also learnin how to deal with bears.”

“How does one deal with a bear? Other than buying them a drink.”

Duck snorts, relaxes further into the couch, “Depends on how soon you see ‘em…”

They emerge two hours later, and Indrid is so engrossed in their conversation about hiking incidents that he runs smack into a camera man. While he’s apologizing profusely, Duck guffaws, steadies him, and leads him off in search of somewhere to watch the sunset.

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

“Oooh, ooh, look, sea lions!” Indrid points to the distant wharf.

“Good eye. Man, those fuckers are big. Glad none of ‘em were in the water when we did that fuckin cliff dive.”

“I for one would pay good money to see my brother chased by a sea lion.”

Duck chuckles, pops the tab on his WhiteClaw. They’re having dinner on the beach, a gourmet spread meant to encourage them to show off their pallets. Indrid took Barclay’s recommendation and ordered the whole, grilled snapper, which he assumed he’d be eating alone; Vincent’s attention has been on Duck ever since he went swimming this morning. Duck seems to be enjoying it, but come dinner time he demurred (“gotta let some of the other fellas have a chance”) and brought his basket of fried oysters over to join Indrid on the sand.

“Speakin of your brother, kinda surprised he didn't make any digs at this whole, uh, situation.” Duck gestures to the torso Indrid is currently aching to lick droplets of saltwater from. To subdue the craving, he licks salt from his fingers before replying.

“I, ah, the last time he tried to, I reminded him of all the pictures I have of him eating. He hates to be seen eating. Most of the time.” He tilts his head towards his twin, who’s chowing down next to Vincent without a care for the cameras. Indrid sets his hand on the warm sand, “I’ve been trying to, well, reign him in as you suggested. Or at least make him think twice about his choices.”

(Indrid omits the part where he’s most likely to risk it if Duck is the one with the target on his back).

Duck sets his hand down beside Indrid’s, brushes sand from the side of it with a calloused thumb, “Mighty good of you. But, uh, think I mighta read things wrong that day. You gotta handle him how you think best. Just, uh, just promise me you won’t sacrifice your own well-bein’ for my sake, or anyone else’s. We’re all grown-ass men; we can handle it.”

“I promise.” He lies.

The other man leans back on his hands, green eyes drifting across the waves. Indrid would gladly sit in silence the rest of the night, it’s so easy to be comfortable in the lull when it’s Duck filling the space beside him.

Eventually, the ranger murmurs, “It’s so fuckin breathtaking. The ocean, I mean. Maybe if you live on a coast you get used to it but man, it is somethin;.”

“More so than the forest?”

Duck smiles, “It’s like apples and oranges. Monongahela got its own charms; you’d have a blast takin pictures and drawin there, believe me. If, uh, if Apollo and I both make it to the final four, uh, maybe we could take a few hours durin’ my hometown visit and I could show you my favorite spot.

Indrid imagines the two of them beneath the trees, walking hand in hand.

“I’d like that.”

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

“You know you’re just a distraction, right?”

Indrid doesn’t look at his brother, just flips the page in his book, “I doubt that. You’ve said, often, that I’m too off-putting to be interesting.”

“Not when there’s competition for someone superior; Duck knows he might not win. You’re his back-up if he doesn’t, and a way to kill time until the end. Once Vincent sends him home, which he most definitely will, he’ll keep you around until something better comes along.”

“Don’t act like you know him.” Indrid hisses, looking up just in time to see something scurrying behind the triumph on Apollo’s face: fear.

So, his brother has a new weakness. He’ll tuck that away for later; this is shaping up to be an unpleasant conversation, but not one requiring quite that degree of weapon.

“You should thank me. If I weren’t so captivating, Vincent would spend all his time with Duck. Then you’d be without any attention at all. Even Duck’s taste isn’t that abysmal.” He grins his several thousand dollar smile, “he and Vincent are probably laughing about it right now.”

Indrid stands, crosses the tiny room, “Shut up, Apollo.”

Then he slams the door. There’s a yelp, followed by “you hit my nose, you pathetic excuse for a man, ow, open this door this instant I’m not done with you!”

He flicks the lock and sits back on the bed. There’s a tin of sensory putty on his nightstand and he opens it, playing with it between his fingers. Duck brought it for him after a museum date with Vincent. The image of him not only thinking of Indrid when he saw something, but then buying it for him just to see him smile makes him want to grin and hide his face in a pillow like a teenager who just got asked to prom.

But maybe this date is going differently.

Indrid squeezes the putty, repeats the mantra he’s had since he was a child, “Apollo always lies. Apollo always lies.”

Eventually, he’s calm enough to work on some tattoo commissions, is coloring away when there’s a knock on the door. A secret knock Duck invented as a goof. Throwing open the door reveals the shorter man wearing a suit jacket and an exhausted expression. Indrid gestures to the bed, shuts and locks the door as Duck slumps on the mattress and sets his head in his hands.

“Whelp, that was a shit-show.”

“What happened?” Indrid sits cross-legged beside him.

“Vincent went in for a kiss and I, uh, I turned him down. I mean, he took it well because he’s a sweet guy but I, I feel like shit.”

“There’s no shame in not wanting to kiss just yet.”

“That ain’t the problem. I, I wanna kiss someone on this set, but it ain’t him. Indrid” he looks up, green eyes watery, “Indrid, I think I’m fallin in love with you.”

“Oh. I, are you sure-”

“The whole night, and I mean the whole fuckin night, I was thinkin about you. Thought how nice the trip to the botanical gardens would be with you there to point out color combos and get excited about butterflies. Wanted to hold your hand over dinner. Fuck, when they brought out the dessert menu all I could think was how fun it’d be to order one of each thing to surprise you so you’d do that thing you do with your hands when you’re real excited.” Duck turns, sets his hands on Indrid’s shoulders, “‘Drid, if you don’t want this, I’ll back off but-”

Indrid cuts him off with a kiss, let’s strong arms pull him down to the bed and presses as close to Duck as he can, as if any space between them might be a way for the universe to push them apart.

“Than fuck” Duck pants, cupping his face, “wait, fuck, what do we do now? I can’t string poor Vincent on.”

“We’ll get them to let you out of your contract. It can’t be that hard, right?”

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

“Absolutely not” Ned shakes his head, “dropping out of the show is out of the question.”

“But that ain’t fair to any of us. Can we at least tell Vincent the truth?”

“No, it needs to look as if he naturally decided not to choose you. If not, we could be accused of manipulating results; the last time that happened, the ratings tanked for that season and the next. And my predecessor was fired.”

Duck looks at Indrid, “Guess I’ll just...pull back? That way Vincent won’t have a reason to choose me and’ll let me go soon.”

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

“Droppin out is outta the question, huh?” Duck mutters to Indrid as they watch Barclay and Joseph walk off holding hands, the host eagerly asking them questions as they go.

“I suppose he didn’t drop so much as sprint.” Indrid glances at the rose in Duck’s hand, “congratulations on making the final...well, final three now.”

“Thanks? Guess Apollo’s pretty happy about it too.”

“Yes, but his ego needs no stroking.” Indrid smiles, “maybe this means you’ll get to show me the woods?”

“I hope so. Huh. What are they gonna do with the rest of us when it’s not our turn for the hometown visit?”

The answer turns out to be: drag everyone to each hometown. Because they no longer have Joe’s trip to do, Ned decided they needed more scenes of the contestants exploring where their competitors came from.

Kepler is first, and tonight is the night Duck’s been dreading. His romantic, home-town date that everyone expects to end with at least some kissing. He manages to make it through dinner, even enjoys showing Vincent the down-town he spent years roaming. But as they start down the river walk for a romantic stroll, his heart is trying to smash its way out of his ribs.

“It’s alright, you know.” Vincent stops, guiding Duck to face him, “the fact you want to be with Indrid.”

“I, uh, fuck, I, I don’t not know, uh, fuck-” he closes his eyes, “how’d you know?”

“I’m more observant than I get credit for.” Vincent brushes his cheek, “I’ve had a hunch for weeks now, but I kept you around because I liked having you here, even if I suspected it wasn’t going to end with us together. I’m very fond of you, Duck. You deserve someone who makes you happy. I promise I’ll send you home this next rose ceremony”

“Christ” Duck chuckles, “you’re a hell of a guy too, Vince. I hope whoever you pick treats you right. I, uh, can I, should we…?”

Vincent plants a chaste kiss on his cheek, then smiles, “go get him.”

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

“Any twos?”

“No. Go fish.”

Apollo grumbles as he takes another card. Given Duck and Vincent are on their date, neither he nor Indrid is having a good night. Before Indrid can make his ask, his twin says, “How do you get people to like you?”

“Why do you care? You’ve made it this far, so obviously Vincent likes you a great deal”

“I don’t just mean him. I, I mean, I want him to like me. To want me. But I suspect he’d like me better if other people did.”

Indrid idly taps his cards, “I suggest you stop acting like our father.”

“I’m nothing like him!” Apollo squawks.

“Oh, but you are. Everything he taught us you still hold as true; you’re just the newest version of men like him. Self-absorbed. Cruel. Shallow. I’m amazed you’ve gotten this far with Vincent, given that the age difference means you’d be caring for him in his old age.”

“I, I can care for him. I will!”

“Apollo, I wouldn’t trust you to care for a potted plant.” He sets his cards down.

“At least I’m not a-”

“Ambitionless deviant who has to ride his brother’s coattails to survive?”

“Wha--how-”

“Like I said; you’re just like him. Down to your insults.” Indrid stands, “I’m going to bed. I suggest you do the same.”

His brother remains speechless--a rare state for him--as he closes the door and heads for his room. He doubts Duck will do anything on the date (hell, the two of them have only been able to steal some kisses now and then), but the whole charade has him feeling low.

There are far more cameras in the rented house than there were a few hours ago. Which means the rest of the crew is back. Does that also mean…

“Hey, sugar. I was just lookin for you.”

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

Duck’s glad his door is open, because otherwise Indrid would have smashed it to pieces dragging them both through it. He’d only gotten out the barest explanation before the taller man was kissing his face and tugging at his clothes, purring “mine” over and over again.

“Yep, all yours.” He shuts the door as Indrid mouths at his neck, “which also means you’re all mine.” He yanks Indrid’s black sweater up and over his head, sends the matching t-shirt after it a moment later. Indrid whines, fumbling with Duck’s dress shirt, and he gets an idea.

“Uh uh, only good boys who show me why they deserve it get to feel me up.”

Indrid groans into his shoulder, fisting the fabric of his jacket “What constitutes good behavior in this instance?”

“One sec, don’t go nowhere.” He starts to step past him, pauses to grips his chin and pull him into another kiss, “and no peekin.”

As he digs through his bag for the strap on he brought just in case, he keeps an eye on Indrid to be sure he’s following the directions. The taller man’s fingers twitch, but his head stays still. God, Duck is going to memorize the shape of each of the tattoos decorating his skin with his mouth.

“You did real good.” He slips around Indrid once more, resting his back on the wall. Indrid notices the new bulge in his pants and thuds to his knees.

“May I?”

“You better.”

Indrid undoes the button of his fly. Then he looks at Duck over the rim of his glasses as he takes the zipper between his teeth and pulls it down. When the black silicone of the strap breaks free, Indrid cocks his head as if unsure of his options. Duck doesn’t really have a plan--he just wants to be with him, to make him feel good and show him just what weeks of pent-up desire have done to him--but he’s starting to regret that choice.

Indrid flicks hair from his face and wraps his lips around the head of the cock experimentally. He hums, sucking on it a moment, then pulls back blushing, “This is going to sound strange but, ah, I, I really like that. It’s such a lovely texture on my tongue, it’s, it’s almost soothing to suck.”

“Guess you better keep suckin it then, huh?” Duck runs the fingers of his right hand through Indrid’s hair.

“Is that really alright? It can’t feel like much on your end.”

“Don’t mean it ain’t fun to watch. But, uh” he touches the edge of Indrid’s red glasses, “it okay if I take these off?”

Indrid nods and Duck slides them free, tucks them into his breast pocket for safekeeping as Indrid draws the cock into his mouth again. He focuses on the head at first, humming and moaning as it bumps his cheek. Then Duck sees him swallow and relax the muscles of his jaw as he presses closer. Little puffs of breath tickle Duck’s skin as Indrid gets most of the cock in his mouth, cheeks hollowing and head bobbing as he sucks. Hungry noises burlbe up his throat, and the more he lets himself go the messier he becomes, spit coating his lips and eyes fluttering closed in bliss.

“Okay, I lied.”

Brown eyes shoot him a disbelieving look.

“This ain’t fun. This is one of the hottest fuckin things I’ve ever seen.”

Indrid wiggles happily on his knees, left hand dropping to rubs his own cock through his jeans.

“Needy little thing, gotta have somethin down your throat and around your dick at the same time.”

“MMMhhmmm” Indrid purrs, the picture of filthy perfection.

“If, if you swallow the whole thing, I’ll let you finger-fuck me.”

Both hands fly to his thighs with an excited moan. Indrid’s brow crinkles with determination as he slowly, carefully brings his lips to the base of the toy. Duck groans out “good boy” and shoves his pants down, Indrid helping to drag them to his ankles. Indrid keeps his left hand on Duck’s hip while the right hovers below his folds. Duck takes it, the toy making the angle a bit awkward, and guides it against him.

“Start with one.”

Indrid nods, moans reverently as he obeys. Duck curses, looks down to find Indrid watching him attentively. Duck is going to wreck him. Then he’s going to cuddle him to sleep and wonder at the fact he got this lucky.

“You’re doin’ great, sugar. Promise I’ll tell you if you need to adjustOH, ohyeah” he lets his head rest against the chipped white of the door, “that’s the spot. Fuck it, add one more, Ahfuck, yeah, those artists fingers are fuckin perfect for this.”

Another purr and then a sharp, choked noise. Duck looks down, realizing he rolled his hips without meaning to. Before he can apologize, Indrid grips his thigh and shakes his head.

“You like that?”

“Mmhhmmm” Indrid traces a heart on his belly.

“You’ll pull off you need to?”

“Mhmmmm.” Indrid curls his fingers as his stretched lips manage to grin.

“Fuck!” Duck giggles, “okay, if my darlin wants his face fucked, that’s what he’ll get.” He keeps a hand on Indrid’s shoulder as he lets loose, grunts and curses mingling with the increasingly wet moans of his cock claiming Indrid’s throat. Soon he’s out of words, too busy with the sight of himself forcing Indrid’s lips apart as he tightens around his fingers. Handjobs are a toss-up for him most days; sometimes they work, other times he can’t cum from them at all. It turns out what makes it very easy to do so is-

“‘Drid, fuck, fuck, sugar, yeah, right there, rightthererightthere ohfuckyeah.” He cums, jerking his hips hard enough to punch a new, high sound from Indrid’s throat. The other man pulls off, rests his cheek on Duck’s belly with shuddery, satisfied sighs.

“Y’know” Duck unbuttons his shirt from the bottom up so Indrid can more easily nuzzle the skin there, “I had this whole plan where I was gonna fuck you with this and then ride your face to cum.”

“I’m not opposed.” Indrid grins, bouncing a bit.

“Yeah, but I’ve only got one in me tonight. So” He tosses the shirt away, pulls off the harness as Indrid nibbles his hips, “if you wanna cum, you’re gonna have to do all the work.”

An edge enters his smile, “I can manage that.”

Duck hits the floor with a whump, Indrid trapping him on his back and climbing atop him, all the while kissing him with abandon.

“May I fuck you?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Condom?”

“Dop kit, bathroom, aw come back.”

“Patience, sweetheart” Indrid blows him a kiss, returns a few moments later doing an inelegant dance to kick his jeans and boxers away, “got one!”

“Good, now get back down here before I-AHfuck!” Indrid is on him and in him so fast it knocks his breath away.

“Before what? You’re not going anywhere, you’re mine, alllllll mine.” He drags kisses across Duck’s cheek, then bites his chapped lip as he looks down at him, “right?”

“You know it, nnng, fuck, that’s it sugar, be a good boy and cum for me. Fuck, darlin, wanted this so bad.” He locks his fingers into silver hair to keep Indrid in kissing distance as the other man whimpers, thrusts shallow and rabbity.

“Want you too, so much, I’ll be worth it, I swear, I’ll be good, I’ll, I’ll make you so happy.”

Duck rests their foreheads together, “You already do.”

There’s a high, gasping moan, almost like a chirp, and Indrid rides out his orgasm in drawn-out rolls of his hips. Then he collapses, laughing, on Duck’s chest.

“I, I’m sorry, I just never thought I’d get this. Someone wanting me. Choosing me.”

“I mean, I went on a T.V show to find love, so I know a little somethin about that fear. But I also know findin you is better than anythin I ever imagined.”

“Likewise.” Indrid nestles closer, one hand reaching out to hold Duck’s where it’s flopped on the rug.

“...You realize this means there’s a fifty-fifty chance your brother will win.”

Indrid shrugs, lifts his head to smile at Duck, “I leave that to Vincent. I already got my prize.”

[fanfic-me-up]

okay so i kinda got carried away with this one??? i just really love this idea and how freaking fluffy it is! so thank you for submitting it @peachy-yabbay​! 😊 also lowkey im sorta falling in love with kaminari?? like he’s so fun to write and i had a smile the entire time. anyway i rlly hope you enjoy!

Feel free to request more here. I write fics, drabbles, and headcanons 💖

Also, I have a yoga fic already posted with bakugou x fem!reader so if this doesn’t satisfy your need of bakugou being a flexible pretzel and failing you can read more here 😂

Bakugou Katsuki

THE STRUGGLE IS REAL

like Bakugou prides himself on going to the gym everyday, but he focuses on strength training and muscle building

the art of flexibility takes time, effort, and perseverance

he gets super frustrated when he can't get the splits in 2.5 seconds

“Careful or you might pull something.”

he ignores you ofc bc for some reason he thinks he’s gonna get the splits if he just - forces himself???

“seriously, Bakugou, don’t push so much-”

“Shut up I know what I’m - OW SHIT FUCKING HELL”

poor bby is on the ground cradling his thigh bc he pulled his hamstring

And lemme tell you THAT SHIT HURTS 😭

he’s literally screaming bloody murder

-like he’s faced a lot of pain from hero training but pulling your hamstring is just so. much. worse???

you grab an icyhot pack (aka you grab Todoroki lol) but Bakugou’s just like “hell no fuck off half n half”

“Must be bad. I heard you crying from downstairs-”

“I SAID FUCK OFF” Todoroki shrugs and leaves.

you roll your eyes at Bakugou’s stubbornness and grab some muscle balm instead

“Tch. I can do it myself” but you ignore him and rub the balm on his thigh, he doesn’t fight it

after that whole fiasco he finally listens to your warnings when you tell him that's enough

he’s in the splits in a little over a month!

“Oh my god, Bakugou, you’re doing it!”

“Tch. I know.”

you don’t miss the small smile on his face

he goes up to you later and shoves something in your hands

“Um. What’s this?”

“A movie ticket” you stare at it blankly, he rolls his eyes

“I’m taking you to the movies tonight, dumbass.”

“Like a date?” you stare up with hopeful eyes

“The fuck? No! As payment.”

you blink, clearly confused

“You know… for helping me with my stretches.”

Oh.

you blush in embarrassment at the misunderstanding

“I’ll meet you out front at 7. Don’t be late.” he walks off, but before he reaches the corner he stops-

“Ugh fine! It’s a date! Happy!?”

you erupt in the biggest smile

he wants to be the only one to make you smile like that from now on

Todoroki Shouto

Todoroki is impressed with how flexible you are, and you’re quite surprised when he asks you to help him

the most aloof - and handsome - guy in your class you’ve barely spoken TWO words to has come to you for help??? is this a dream? someone pinch you 👀

but there you are, the next day in his dorm, gently pushing his hips down

Todoroki’s working on his warrior/scorpion pose (ya’ll there's so many names for this pose jfc the one where you’re standing on one leg, back arched, and you’re holding the other leg above your head)

he’s sweating and breathing heavily, and when you go to steady him, you actually burn your hand on his bicep.

“Ouch!”

“Are you okay?”

he’s hovering over you the next second, you show him your hand, a blister already forming

“Damn it. I still have trouble controlling my left side,” he looks away from you, clenching his fists, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” you blow cool air on the wound to stop the tingling, “all better,” you smile up at him

“Here, let me,” he pulls his shirt up to reveal his stomach and places your hand on the right side. You sigh in relief as your hand is instantly cooled.

Uh oh.

you realize where your hand is currently pressed against 😳

you’re so tempted to trace along the hard contours of his abs

“Y/N? You’re burning up.” he touches your cheek, your heart doing somersaults at the closeness

“Oh-kay, that’s enough for today!” you squeak, running away from a thoroughly confused Todoroki

Todoroki shows excellent progress in just a couple weeks. He says it’s because he has a great teacher, but you know it's his work ethic and how he listens to your advice and applies it flawlessly.

He’s even gotten better at controlling his left side since he’s constantly relaxing his muscles to get deeper in the stretch.

it happens during warm-ups before training

Class 1-A goes into some stretches when you see Todoroki go into a perfect scorpion. His back perfectly arched and his leg reaching above his head.

“Oh my god, Todoroki, you’re doing it!” you clap your hands in excitement

“Am I?”

...is this boy for real? lol

“YES” you laugh at his stoic expression

“I see.” He softly comments before going into another stretch.

your shoulders deflate, disappointed at the lack of enthusiasm

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he cracks a small smile and your breath is taken away by the simple gesture. It’s rare to see him with such a soft expression, and the fact that you’re the reason for it sends your heart aflutter.

AND bc he’s totally oblivious to your current state, he goes up to you and whispers, “you’re an amazing teacher, Y/N”

“It was n-nothing re-really it was a-all you!” you laugh awkwardly, unable to meet his eyes.

“How can I thank you?”

“It-it’s really n-not necessary!”

“Hmm…” he walks away deep in thought and you’re just standing there like the stuttering mess you are bc how dare he walk away like nothing!?

Mina’s got your back tho bc frankly it's quite sad how awkward you are and how oblivious Todoroki is that she NEEDS to become the captain of this ship stat

She “casually” suggests to Todoroki that he should take you out to eat as a thank you for helping him.

and when he walks you to your door that night he says, “I hope you enjoyed our date”

“D-date?” cue the butterflies in your stomach

“Was it not a date?” You’re pinned by his intense gaze, but you manage to squeak out a “yes!” in your confused daze. He chuckles at your nervousness

“Have a good night, Y/N.” he kisses your cheek

and when you give Mina the details of your date there’s a bunch of squealing from her end and you’re just like 😳 the entire night

Kaminari Denki

“Woah, Y/N, you’re really flexible. Can you put your foot over your head?”

You show him and he’s totally amazed. “Cool! Can you teach me? I wanna put BOTH legs over my head!”

first day of stretching with Kaminari is… def a day you remember

“Ow ow! Y/N, don’t break me!”

“Denki, I’m not even touching you!”

He looks up where your hands are on your hips

“oh... heh” he gives you a sheepish smile

You roll your eyes. How you’re gonna get this boy flexible enough to put his foot over his head is beyond you, but you’re happy it’s going to take a while - it means more time spent with your crush

You spend an hour with Kaminari each day to perfect his stretching routine (It should only take about 20 minutes, but the boy’s got the attention span of a newborn puppy)

“Woah check out that cloud, Y/N.” Kaminari looks in awe at the sky. You sigh, not again

“Denki, we’re not done, get back in the stretch”

“Look Y/N,” he points, “doesn’t it look exactly like baby yoda?” He lies down on the grass to gaze at the clouds

“Oh my god, Denki, I’m gonna kill - oh wow…” you gaze up in awe at the cloud, “baby yoda…”

You and Kaminari spend the rest of the hour cloud gazing

After literal MONTHS of getting on Kaminari’s ass he can FINALLY put his legs over his head.

He calls out to you during a training exercise, “Y/N LOOK I DID IT!”

“NOT ONE BUT TWO!” he points at both of his legs with a huge smile

You feel a rush of happiness because even after how frustrated you were with him at times, you would do it a million times over if it meant getting to see such a pure smile.

“Congrats!” you say, “Now, stand up so I can give you a hug!”

“Um…” he sheepishly looks up at you, “I’m kinda... stuck?”

You roll your eyes affectionately, “the things I do for you.”

You’re about to help Kaminari when Bakugou shoves him backwards giving everyone in class a clear view of his ass in the air 😂

“Hah, dumbass.”

Kaminari waddles helplessly side to side

“Y/N?” he squeaks, “a little help here?”

Later that week he tells you he found a yoga class for both of you to take and you’re surprised. He still wants to spend time with you?

But then he says, “Are you crazy? Why wouldn’t I wanna spend time with the coolest person I know?”

You choke on your tea, in disbelief at his words - that was a huge compliment and you know Kaminari is a very open person so you just brush it off with an “Oh stop it…”

“No I’m serious, Y/N, you’re awesome. Like super awesome,” he gives an awkward laugh while rubbing the back of his neck

“I’ve been thinking… maybe after yoga, we can, i don't know... hit up the arcade or something? Or it doesn’t have to be the arcade, it could be anything really!”

You’ve never seen Kaminari this flustered before. He’s the type to brush off his mistakes with a laugh, always moving on to the next moment.

“No, the arcade sounds fun!”  

You reassure him and the confident light in his eyes returns

“Oh and Denki?”

“Yeah?”

“Prepare to get rekt in mario kart”

This starts a whole ass play fight about who’s gonna get dunked on when racing down rainbow road

[olympusgenius]

Relax, my baby boy

Hephaestus' underground lab was bustling with many things that day, mostly by finishing with the cleaning of the place, normally Talos was the only one who helped Hephaestus with the cleaning and maintenance of the lab, but for delayed updates in his system, he was put in a intensive updating session leaving him indisposed by the moment, leaving his creator with the responsibility of tidy up the place, fortunately, Jutaro was there to help with that matter.

Hephaestus was putting order to some spare parts while his lover/mother was accomodating some tools in a storage inside the lab, that was the last thing to do to finish with the cleaning of the place.

- M-Mama?...- Hephaestus asked to the summoner in a shy way, feeling a little awkward to himself.

- yes, is there something wrong?- the young man replied to the olympian wanting to know what he wanted to say.

- No, it's nothing...sorry for disturb you...-the crafter told him with shame, retaining what he wanted to say because of his shyness.

-no, it's ok, tell me what you wanted to say- Jutaro responded him with insistence to know.

- w-well.....I wanted to tell you I'm sorry for making you h-help me with the cleaning today, i-it supposed to be a normal visit like other times, but you ended helping me because Talos couldn't do it right now a-and...- he was keep going until he's silenced by Jutaro's index finger placed over his lips.

-Don't worry about it...you always make many things for me, and in some way, I must do things for you to make it fair to you too because I care for you as you care for me...but now...is there anything else left to do?- the summoner asked, Hephaestus stayed silent for some minutes before answer.

-I think it's all, I guess...- the crafter responded, Jutaro sighs with relief and drops his body in a sofa to rest while Hephaestus serves some iced tea.

-Heph?- the young man asks to the transient.

- Y-yes, Mama?- the olympian replied with insecurity, he watches how Jutaro is patting his thights to come to rest his head in his lap.

- B-but Mama! I can't! I would dirt you with my filthy hair!- Hephaestus exclamated embarrassed, but the summoner was insisting.

-please, just come here, please?- Jutaro was making sad puppy eyes to make Hephaestus come with him, Hephaestus couldn't do anything against those eyes, he surrenders and lies his large body in the sofa with his head in his lover's lap in a stiff way and blushing.

Jutaro then puts his hand in Hephaestus' head and pats it in a caring way, noticing how soft and silky was Hephaestus' hair and playing with his curl, the crafter started to relax his body and enjoying the headpats, his hands clinched in fists are loosening to rest them in the abs intertwining his fingers.

-Can I ask you something?- the summoner asked him suddenly, Hephaestus surprises a little.

-What you wanna ask me?- the olympian was confused by that question

-why you always says things like you're trash or you're filthy when you are close to me?- the crafter shocks but decides to answer directly.

- B-because after I remembered those past time loops, I noticed many of the weapons that killed you were made by me...and I feel I'm unworthy of receive your love Mama...I feel guilty for made those...wretched things...I blame myself for my talent and for killing you in one of the loops, I feel like a scum like the ones who killed you before...and...because of that I made Talos as my ideal self...but now even if my ideals changed...I still feel I'm not worthy of touching you...- Hephaestus was starting to cry, but his tears were stopped by the summoner's finger wiping out the drops from his golden eyes.

- let me tell you something...you don't have to feel bad for yourself about what happened...I forgive you from whatever happened before, because I know you're a noble, gentle, strong and brave man...don't blame your talent, because I know you can make cool things to help others too, and...I will be there when you need me...besides, I prefer you as my ideal man than Talos...don't get upset, I love Talos too, but in a different way...like...our son, if I may say it-

Hephaestus was surprised and confused by those words, but he felt joy afterwards.

-really Mama? you mean it?- Hephaestus asked him to confirm those words from Jutaro.

-really, from heart- Jutaro smiles at him, and Hephaestus chuckles a little, but asks him again.

-you really mean it, I'm your ideal man? even if I'm...well...distorted?- Hephaestus bumps his index fingertips expecting more answers in a coy manner.

-you're not distorted, you're unique...interesting...outstanding...attractive...very attractive...to me...- Jutaro starts to blush saying those words to him.

-even if I don't have legs like everybody else?- Hephaestus asks again

-about that, when I met you, I was shocked when you showed me your prosthetic legs, but now, I can't imagine you without them, and being honest...your robotic legs are very cool- Jutaro responds and this shocks the crafter.

-WHAT?-

-I know, I really think you're legs are amazing, I mean, looks like they're from a comic book and in any moment you will make a heroic feat using them- Jutaro told him what he had in mind

-Umm....I don't know what to say about that, no one ever told me those kind of things before, except when Kurogane gets in his curious mode...- Hephaestus is confused.

-If I can ask you......are your prosthetic legs a sacred artifact, and why don't you use the same material you used in Talos' skin to make them look more natural?- the summoner asked him about the nature of his legs.

- my legs are almost a sacred artifact...both have dark matter but doesn't have a rule by themselves, instead they work as an enhancement of my original rule, and about the false skin...my inner fire burns it because it considers it an impurity in myself and its very hard to produce it because it needs a lot of delicate materials, for that reason I don't use the false skin, but I still feel them like if were my real legs. -

-you mean, feel like tiredness and pain in your feet?- Jutaro was getting curious about it.

- y-yes, things like that...-

-Can I...touch them?- Jutaro makes a last question, asking him to let him touch his robotic legs.

-w-what?! a-are you sure you want that?! you could get dirty!- Hephaestus tried to make him change his opinion, but Jutaro changed from seat to Hephaestus' feet, the crafter was getting nervous and blushing, he tried to reason with him, but the summoner was already touching and caressing Hephaestus' legs, even if were made of metal, the legs were warm and smooth to touch, shining in black metal with the lab's lamps and seeing the bright lines were the joints are, shining with a golden light.

-sorry...I got excited...but anyways, can you feel my hands?- Jutaro apologizes to him while he keeps caressing from calf and shin.

-yes...y-your hands are so warm...like when I was a child- Hephaestus answered whimpering and moaning with joy and shame blushing even more, then, Jutaro takes off Hephaestus' shoes from his feet and makes him a foot massage, Hephaestus gets more excited and bites his lip, Jutaro keeps going and massages between toes, the metallic toes are wiggling indicating Hephaestus was enjoying it.

-How does it feel, it doesn't hurt you?- Jutaro asks him while he keeps with the massage.

-I-it feels good! Mama...Mommy...I...!-

-Shh, relax, my baby boy, Mama likes it too- Jutaro kisses Hephaestus' feet, because of the emotional charge, Hephaestus gets sleep with a smile in his face, Jutaro smiles too and lies his body alongside with him resting his head in his pecs, Hephaestus embraces the summoner unconsciously with his strong arms.

Jutaro then kisses him tenderly in his cheek and lips and embraces the large transient.

-sweet dreams, I will always be there for you too, my sweet prince-

both were sleeping in the sofa, not knowing Talos watched all their chat in silence smiling to them.

-I knew the ideal thing was not interrupting them, well, if Papa and Mama are sleeping now, so do I, that update left me groggy afterwards...-

Talos shuts down himself keeping the smile in his face knowing his family was happy and safe for now.

[norisxfics]

NCT’s Dorm Maid: Ch.4 - Jungwoo

Title: NCT 127’s Dorm Maid

Genre: smut

Chapter: 4

Characters: Jungwoo x oc/reader

Chapter Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Contains: Drunk sex

Summary: When NCT’s Dorm maid falls ill, her niece takes her place and becomes NCT’s new dorm maid. NCT weren’t unfamiliar with the girl as she has substituted for her aunt many times before. But this time it was different, this time she was going to become their permanent dorm maid as her aunt was forced to retire because of her health. NCT members quickly grow fond of the girl, but little did she know this also meant that she was going to be a hell of a lot more busy than she expected.

Authors Note: BTW idk who all is actual roommates, I’m just going based off what I think it is after watching their 24 hour relay cams and stuff. I don’t need to be technical or get every little detail right so I’m not worried about getting their actual situation right.

It was Friday night, my day off, so I was just relaxing at home, my aunt had left to visit her son for a month since he and his wife just had a baby, leaving the apartment to just me for a while. I was just watching some TV with some snacks and beer at my side, comfortably sitting in nothing but my underwear and my large black t-shirt stolen sponsored by an ex of mine. 

I was about to run out of beer so I walked over to the kitchen and opened the fridge, just as I was about to grab a pack my phone goes off. “Ugh it’s 12 in the fucking morning who’s calling, let me live,” I grumbled as I made my way to my phone, picking it up from the coffee table I saw that it was Jaehyun. 

“It’s my day off,”

“I know I know, I just need a quick favor, Jungwoo is drunk and I was wondering if you can come take him up to the dorm?”

“I don’t have a car though,”

“It’s okay you don’t need one, we’re walking into the building now just meet me at the elevator, I wanna go back to the party I barely just got there and Taeyong asked me to take him home,” 

I let out a big sigh and groaned “ugh fine, you owe me one,”

I put my phone down and made my way down on the elevator to first floor, and Jaehyun was right there waiting, he grinned at me and quickly handed Jungwoo over to me, Jungwoo stumbled against me “He’s heavy so be careful, I’m off then,” 

He turned and ran out the front doors before I could say anything “You can’t just toss him at me and leave jeez,”

“He just threw me away like I’m trash? I knew it, I knew he doesn’t love me! I thought we had something special, you bastard!” Jungwoo slurred and whined. 

I rolled my eyes and took him up to his dorm and into his room, setting him down on his bed before turning away to get him a glass of water. I grabbed onto my wrist “waaaaiit don’t leave meee, don’t go,” 

“I’m just going to get you some water, relax,” 

“Oh...okay,”

I brought him a glass of water and made sure he drank it before I decided to leave him to sleep. But once again when he saw me about to leave he started whining again and started crying as well. Jeez he’s a sad drunk huh? 

“Stay with me, it’s lonely, I don’t like being lonely!” He pulled me towards him “let’s cuddle! I wanna cuddle, you look cuddly,” he looked up at me with half lidded eyes, his lips in a pout. It was adorable despite how drunk he was. 

I mean I shouldn’t be doing this but whatever it’s my day off and I’m doing this as a friend. Not like I wasn’t doing anything else I shouldn’t be in the first place. 

I climbed into bed with Jungwoo and pulled him into me, his head nuzzled against my chest and his arm around my waist, I ran my fingers through his hair to comfort him. It was quiet for a couple minutes but the silence was soon broken when he began giggling. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing~”

“I mean, you are drunk, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were laughing at nothing,”

“I’m not that drunk…”

“You were crying just a minute ago because you thought I was abandoning you,”

“Okay well I’m less drunk now,” 

“How so?”

“I’m sober enough to realize that-” He began to chuckle.

“Realize what?”

He shook his head “Never mind, nothing,”

“Tell me or I’m leaving,”

He whined and pulled his face away from my chest “fine,”

He cleared his throat, a smirk forming on the corner of his lips “you’re not wearing a bra are you?” He burst into a giggle fit. 

“Ugh you’re so childish, it’s not that big of a deal,”

“No bra!”

He laughed squishing my breast through the shirt “Jungwoo! Stop, you're drunk!” 

He stopped laughing and pulled his hand away before pushing me onto my back and climbing on top of me, his hands resting on the bed, my head in between them as he propped himself on them. His gaze on me had darkened, my heart skipped a beat. I had never seen Jungwoo like this before. “God you’re so cute right now,” his tongue slowly moved across his bottom lip as he eyed me hungrily. 

He leaned in and pressed his lips against mine, kissing me softly. I pushed him gently “Jungwoo, we can’t do this right now, you’re dr-” 

“You just admitted it you want it too, I know exactly what I’m doing, Mina, so let me do it, if you don’t want it I’ll stop, just say the word,” 

I looked into his eyes, he was being serious and I can tell he had sobered up. My eyes soon fell to his plump lips then back to his eyes. I decided to answer without words, I wrapped a leg around his waist, and my arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. His hands roamed my body moving underneath my shirt and finding their way up to my bare chest. He groped my breasts, massaging them in his palms. A hummed into kiss, his tongue pushing past my lips, meeting with my own. His tongue swirled and played with mine, he let out a soft sigh into the kiss. 

Jungwoo’s hips then began to roll against mine, my hips responding to his, moving to match with his motion and pace. He squeezed my breasts, eliciting a small moan from me. I trailed my hands down his chest then gripped onto the end of his shirt before lifting it up. Jungwoo pulled away from the kiss and sat up, pulling off his shirt and tossing it to the floor. My eyes wandered down his body and to my surprise he had some abs going on. My fingers traced his abs softly before hooking into his waistband. I unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, I looked up at him, bottom lip held between my teeth “Take these off, Jungwoo,” Jungwoo climbed off me, kicking off his jeans, while he did that I slipped out of my shirt. I pushed Jungwoo back onto the bed before crawling between his legs, leaning down I began to kiss down his neck, collar bone and chest, palm resting on top of the bulge that was protruding from his underwear, rubbing against it. 

I then sat up on my knees, fingers hooking into the waistband of his underwear. I slowly pulled them down, his erection springing up before me. He helped me get his underwear off, kicking it off to the side. I wrapped my fingers around his erection, my eyes on his as I gave him a small smirk. He licked his lips as he stared at me in anticipation. I began to slowly stroke him, my wrist working slowly and teasingly. 

“Fuck, Mina…” He hissed, before sitting up, his fingers finding my chin lifting my face up so I was looking at him, he stared at my lips for a moment before he roughly pressed his lips against mine into a heated kiss. I tightened my grip around his erection, pumping it faster now. I felt his hand slip into my panties, not hesitating to slip a digit inside of me. 

I let out a moan into the kiss as he not so gently fingered me. The kiss soon became sloppy, the sound of our moans mixing together. “Jungwoo...I want you inside me,” I mumbled against his lips. He pulled his hand away. “let me just grab a condom,” I nodded my head, even though I was on the pill I didn’t mind using condoms, it’s not just about protection against kids after all. As he reached into his bedside drawer I slipped out of my panties. 

Once the condom was on I climbed on top of his lap, hands resting at his shoulders as he positioned the tip of his cock against my entrance. I slowly let my hips down, pursing my lips as his cock filled me up. His hands were resting on my waist, guiding me down until he was completely inside me. 

“Fuck. You’re tight,” he cursed. I began to move my hips up and down, slowly riding him as I adjusted to him. He soon began moving his hips up in rhythm with mine, my moans slowly filling the room. Jungwoo leaned in and took one of my nipples in between his lips, sucking on it roughly, grazing his teeth against it. Our hips began to move more quickly and I could feel the vibration of Jungwoo’s moans against my skin. 

He soon pushed me back onto the bed, hovering over me without pulling out. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he began rocking his hips roughly into me. I gripped onto his shoulders, my eyes roamed his naked body, appreciating every part of him, even the sweat that was now forming on his skin. 

I suddenly heard a door open.

 “ahh I need some sleep, I think I drank too much,”

“Tell me about it, it was fun though, it’s a shame Jungwoo got drunk before I got there though,”

I heard the boys talking as they came in.

“Shit Jungwoo, they’re home,” I whispered and he covered my mouth with his hand. 

“Then stay quiet and we’ll be fine,” 

I nodded my head, I was worried about getting caught but it was also exciting. Jungwoo’s hips began to move in a quicker pace, pounding roughly into me as I tried to hold back my moans. Small whimpers leaving my lips instead. 

My walls began to tighten around his length, my hips buckling up as I reached my climax “Jungwoo...fuck,” 

“Fuck, I’m close too…” He whispered into my ear, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he continued to rock his hips, groaning right into my ear when he finally reached his own climax.  Hi lied down on top of me, both of us now breathing heavily and trying to catch our breaths. 

“Jungwoo…”

“Hmm?”

“I think I should go now,” 

He groaned softly before sitting up and taking his condom off, tossing it into the trash. I grabbed some tissues and wiped myself off before slipping back into my underwear and shirt. “You should go to sleep,” I whispered, he nodded and gestured for me to go. 

I slowly opened the door and walked out, closing the door behind me. It seemed everyone was in their rooms already. I quietly walked over to the front door and opened it slowly, slipping right out. I carefully closed the door as to not alarm anyone. 

“Oh? What are you doing here? It’s your day off…”

I jumped and cursed under my breath, turning around to face whoever it was. 

“Oh Yuta, hey, well Jaehyun asked me earlier to take up drunk Jungwoo to his room, so I did…”

He tilted his head, raising a brow “That was a couple hours ago though, you’re still here?”

“U-um well, Jungwoo was being clingy and crying about me abandoning him or whatever so he um uh, well I,”

Yuta just stared at me, waiting for me to finish explaining, it was honestly intimidating. I was a stuttering mess. 

“I decided I should take care of him until he falls asleep you know? I guess I fell asleep too, haha” I smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck. 

“Oh, okay, makes sense, well good night then, see you later,” 

I nodded and bowed my head towards him before rushing to the elevator, not looking back at Yuta. 

[bodyswapmischief]

Fit For February

I looked around me. I looked at the empty buck of fried chicken. I checked the empty containers of mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and coleslaw. I grunted as I picked up the two empty 2-liter bottles of soda. The only thing left was half of the cake that came with the party combo meal.

I looked at my bloated stomach. I fell back onto the couch. All 320 pounds of me felt even more tired and heavy from the meal. I started rubbing the pain from my stomach. It wasn't supposed to be like this, I thought to myself. A few weeks into January and I already broke my New Year's resolutions. And, in a big way. I made a complete pig out of myself.

But, how could anybody not expect me to binge after the kind of day I had. I started the day as usual, since the new year began. I ate a bowel of plain cereal. I went to work. I ate a salad, for lunch. The only thing different was today was gym day.

I was still very self conscious about my body and only planned on going to the gym once a week, to start off. Being January the month of New Year's Resolutions, the gym was pack with a lot of people. It helped to see other out of shape people. But, I still saw that I was the fattest person there.

Being in my 40's and fat my whole life. I didn't really have a game plan. I was just winging it. First, I went on the treadmill. I knew I wasn't in shape to run for a prolong period of time so, I started at a walking speed. That's when I saw him walk in. He wore a tight muscle shirt that showed the curves of his abs. His strong arms were out on full display. "Fuckin Shit! I hate January. All the fucking fatass come in thinking they're gonna lose weight this year." He said to his friends not being subtle at all. They all laugh.

A few more minutes past, I'm was still on the treadmill. Then I feel a strong force push my arm. It almost sent me off balance. But, I caught myself. I looked to see who pushed me. "Hey dude, I need to use it," said the guy from earlier. He was clearly annoyed by me being there. "Um ... I'm still using it." I sheepishly replied. He looks at me with full on hate. "Oh yeah. Your using it? Are you sure about that fatass?," he says aggressively. "Um... yeah." I said starting to get scared. "Let me fucking guess. You ate a salad today, too. And, you're feeling proud about yourself'" he said mockingly. "Now, your deciciding to waste everyone's time by WALKING on a treadmill. Take your fatass and walk somewhere else. Better yet, stop lying to yourself. We both know this is some silly New Year's resolution. It's not going to last. You're gonna stop trying to lose weight by the end of this month, especially a fat ass like you. I mean look what you've done to your body. There's no reversing that damage. I don't go into your kitchen and eat your food so, stay the fuck out of my gym."

I stood there motionless for a few seconds. I couldn't believe the hate and words coming out of his mouth. I looked around and saw a majority of people didn't hear him. They were either to in the zone or had their earphones in. However, a hand full of people did hear him. They looked at me with pity, but didn't say anything. My face grew red. I could feel tears wanting to form. Without saying anything I just left. I walked quickly to the locker room and got changed. I looked back over at the treadmill. And, there he was. Not even bothered by what he said.

I left and started crying. I felt like a complete loser. I was fat and weak. I couldn't even stand up for myself. My stomach started growling in sympathy. I was hungry. I was beyond hungry. I could feel my stomach turn into a black hole. So, instead of going home to my premade chicken breast, brown rice, and steamed vegetables, I got the party Combo meal at my local fried chicken restaurant.

After thinking about everything that happened, I sat on the couch eating the rest of the cake and distracting myself from my pain by watching tv. Slowly, I drifted of to sleep.

The next morning, I slowly woke up. And was surprised to feel that I was on a bed. I must have woke up and put myself to bed, I thought. I opened my eyes to see, I was in a bed room. But, my vision was still hazy with sleepiness. So, I closed them, out of habit, and began stretching. It was weird. I actually felt good. Usually I'm sore and still tired. But, I woke up feeling light and energized. I removed the blankets from my body and I could tell something felt off. But, I was to comfortable to care. The morning air was colder than usual.

I went to pat my stomach. For a breif millisecond, my mind panicked. My hand should have touched my stomach already, I thought. Then a millisecond later I touch some something hard. My eyes immediately opened. I'm not in my room, I immediately realized. I looked down and saw why I felt different. I wasn't staring at my pale white obese body.

Instead, my skin was now a beautiful tanned brown. I rubbed my hands along the ridges of my abs. I felt up the new pecs on my chest. I flexed and watched my biceps bounce around. My penis was growing from the excitment. Reaching a size I could only dream about. I can't, I thought to myself. It's not my body. But, the urges were just too strong. As, I masturbated I moaned in complete ecstasy.

After enjoying my new body, I finally got of the bed and started exploring my surroundings. Everything felt easier. I felt so much lighter and stronger at the same time. I made my way to the bathroom and jumped. I saw the guy from the gym staring at me. He looked scared, too. I quickly realized I was looking at a reflection. I was looking at the body I was in. I smiled.

I left the bathroom and saw a phone sitting on the nightstand. Memories started flooding my mind. Instinctively, I used my finger print to open my ... his phone. More memories started filling my mind. I was Javiar Ramirez. But, even with these new memories, I knew this body was not really mine. Memories of my daily routine flooded my mind. I had to get ready for work.

I sighed, but looked at my reflection through my phones camera and smiled. I didn't know what to do about my old life. I was in this body now. So, I had to play the role of Javier, until I could find a way back. I looked at my body again. But, do I really want to go back, I thought to myself.

So, using his knowledge I went about my day. I made my protein shake. I made my breakfast. I had fun trying on different clothes combinations and talking pictures of myself. Finally I got dressed for work. I had my lunch. I met up with some of Javier's friends. Then I went to the gym.

As soon as I walked in, I looked around. Hoping to see my old body. And there it was. Struggling to run on the treadmill. I never realized how fat I really looked. But, now I was ready to give Javier a peace of my mind. Words filled my mind, as I was thinking what to say. Maybe something along the line of who is the fatass now, I thought.

I forcibly tapped him on the shoulder and he almost tripped. I chuckled to myself, as he turned to face me. He look at me scared, "I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd be back here today... I'll get off." He lowered his head and started getting his belongings. I was thrown back a little. Before he could leave the treadmill, I held him by the shoulder. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't want any trouble ... I'll stop coming to the gym, just let me go," he started to plea.

I just looked him in the eyes. Was he in there, I thought to myself. Does he think he's me? Is he trapped and forced to act as me? No matter his fate, I saw the deep pain that I used to have in his eyes. My anger vanished and I could only feel pity. "No, it not like that," I sighed. "I just wanna apologize for everything I said yesterday. I was just having a bad day but, that still didn't give me the right to act like an asshole." He smiled at me and nodded. I continue, "I'm actually proud for you. That your trying to make a change in your life. Keep it up. But, I did see you struggling." His face started to turn red. "I know what I said yesterday. But, for a big guy like you walking is actually going to be a better and safer exercise. Just keep at it and if you need any tips, I can help." I said as knowledge about working flashed through my mind. His face still red, he thanked me and continued his work out. I finished mine and headed back home.

I don't know who did this or why but, I'm glad it happened. I can gladly say that becoming fit is marked off my New Year's resolutions. However, I do hope Javier's or should I say Mark continues his weight loss journey. The next time I see him, I should offer to be his personal trainer.

[veralovemail]

Hello! If it isn't much hassle, can I have a male matchup (survivors), please?

(Also I'm a girl)

Normally at first I'm a very shy and quiet person and I don't usually show how I feel, but I'm also very friendly and it's easy to get along with everybody. I'm quite introverted and reserved (I have social anxiety), it's difficult to me to talk to others, but I have no problem with them talking to me (although I may be a little nervous and quiet at first, it depends on the person I can let go faster). With my close friends I sometimes become noisy and can talk a lot, I never hide my emotions and I am as honest as possible, I never hide anything from them. Although sometimes I can be too frank and sincere, according to them (I can accidentally say things that can hurt others.).

I am a fairly educated person and I hate to be rude or violent, but sometimes with my friends who are specifically men I am sometimes more aggressive and tough, but if it bothers them I stop (it's just that I am used to being this way with men). I have a sarcastic humor (the ones that I usually bother with this are my male friends, but if it bothers them I stop) and according to my friends I am quite funny, above all I make them laugh with my expressions, gestures and tone of voice (which are very transparent and clearly demonstrate what I am thinking or feeling).

I am a very perceptive person and just by looking or listening to someone I can tell how that person is. I like to help others and whenever I can I let my friends (or the people around me) know that if something happens they can count on me and that I will always be there when they need me, either just to listen, give advice, be a shoulder to cry or just be there. If someone doesn't want to tell me something, nothing happens, I don't want them to tell me something they don't want (I'm a very understanding person). 

Though I never tell anyone my problems. I generate many self-destructive and toxic tendencies towards myself. I don't have self-esteem and I demand and abuse myself a lot. Sometimes I tend to distrust others because they have taught me all my life to distrust everyone (especially people close to me) and I have quite a few traumas. But I don't tell anyone out of fear that they will think I am weak and hate me. I have the constant fear that this will happen, that others will think ill of me, that they will harm me, that I will hurt and not be useful. Only the people I trust and love the most have been told about my insecurities and can see me in my worst moments without me feeling guilty about it.

I'm a pretty fragile person, it's easy to make me feel bad, stress and hurt, plus it's very easy to make me cry. But I only show this to people I really trusted (seeing me crying without containing my emotions is my greatest show of trust). I'm very affectionate person, I really like to give affection to my close friends (even the boys) if they don't mind it and I also use to say openly how much I care and that I love them (in a Platonic way). Finally, I do very well drawing, singing (I have a very sweet and pretty voice when I sing, when I speak although it is also quite sweet and nice to listen to is also very moldable), writing and quite a lot more! (although I find it hard to see my achievements and only realize when someone tells me so, I am very critical of myself and constantly need the approval of others).

Thank you and have a good day!

you're welcome!! i would like to hear you sing someday :" i can rap.. dunno if that counts tho.

i match you with... william ellis!

OKAY HEAR ME OUT i have this one in the bag

william is able to keep up with your slightly more playful-aggressive behaviour towards men. you two probably play fight a lot.

when you two meet, you contradict eachother.

william is very excitable and bold, whereas you're very reserved and introverted.

he definitely isn't afraid to strike up a conversation with you while you're decoding and is able to get you to loosen up a lot around him.

later on, you get ballooned in the match by mary and william's like "hey! anyone wanna see the record time for someone losing their kneecap privileges?" and tackles mary with everything he's got.

you win the match and after that you start talking more!

and after that, with a bit of pushing from vera, you two FINALLY confess to eachother.

so prepared to never go on chair again! william is always going to rescue you and every hunter is now terrified of you two being matched together. they just leave you alone.

if there's a new hunter and the other hunters forget to tell them about the two of you? god bless their poor soul for even trying to chair you.

you two count on eachother, you rely on him and he relies on you.

william learns very quickly that you are very fragile and tries his best to learn your cues or changes in behaviour when you're having a bad day.

you'll have to be really honest with him for a while before he finally starts realising when you're upset, but even then he may not ask and instead show that he's there for you through his actions.

please, keep your honesty with him. william isn't the smartest socially, he's always been like a class clown sort of person.

you make him laugh a lot! you make jokes while decoding together and william literally fails every calibration or just sinks to the floor laughing because you're too funny.

he wants you to feel loved and protected, so after a bad day, he's dragging you into bed and cuddling you until either he falls asleep or you do.

he sometimes runs baths for you when you're down or stressed out, but he may flood the bathroom with bubbles... but it adds character to the bath!

if you open up to him about your problems, he'll definitely try help you out the best he can - tell him how, or suggest subtly and he's already asking helena what it means and what he can do to help.

he will definitely listen to you rant or vent and try suggest solutions to your problems.

if you want to, he'll take you on his training exercises to help work your anger / sadness out of your system.

also, draw him. he will model for you. he will model for you just so he can show off his abs but it really powers his ego if you draw him with the abs.

OH and sing for him!! he would really want to listen to you sing quietly while decoding, or hum when you're writing something or mumbling lyrics to yourself when trying to sleep. he adores your voice and really just wants you to put on a show for him one day where you sing your heart out on the stage but it's just him there, starstruck AND lovestruck.

he sees you as a very strong person, so you opening up to him makes him see you as like... "hey! i can move a mountain" sort of strong.

you're the light of his life- when he hasn't seen you all day, he'll lift you up into his arms and give you the most passionate kiss of your life.

he loves you so much, he never wants to let you go.

ok!! thank u for requesting (saying this for the 2nd time) and i hope you enjoyed these :)

[bnha-almost-a-hero]

monster fucking with... nomu?

part of my ‘kinktober’ series, but it’s only half the days and I decided to start at the end of October.

day three and four featuring nomu (don’t question it), you as a slightly deranged, unstable scientist and a healthy helping of mind break.

warnings & shizz: non-con, dub-con, reader’s a rapist, nomu fucking, oh and you kind of turn into a drooling mess at the end (spoilers)

i’m going to hell, i’m going to hell, i’m going to hell, i’m going to hell, i’m going to hell.

oh, and happy halloween!

prompts — ‘monster fucking’ and ‘mind break’

character — nomu (and i-)

Science and ethics have never always gone together. You—as a biologist specializing in the development of quirks in fetuses—know that better than anyone. Society has done you an injustice, you think, to condemn your research as unethical and immoral.

What even are ethics? You ask yourself. There are no ‘ethics’ in the animal kingdom. Adult lions kill baby cubs to preserve their bloodline yet no-one bats an eye. Why when you propose to take a newborn away from her mother for a couple of years to study how their quirk manifests, do the Bureau of Science call you insane? 

You weren’t insane, you were just doing your job.

Just as heroes did theirs.

Yet, when heroes beat villains bloody, society applauded them and threw meaningless awards in their faces? So, why couldn’t you? 

“Hypocrites,” You mutter disdainfully as you march down the hallway. “The whole lot of them.”

The sterile, white walls of the facility would have stifled normal people, but, sandwiched between them, you felt happier than ever. This was your second home, where no pesky Bureau could bother you or where you had to mingle with the uneducated masses. But, today, you shared your facility with a special guest.

Nomu. A word you’d heard all over the news ever since the emergence of this new ‘League of Villains’. From your quaint, little city apartment, you’d drawn up diagrams of them, hypothesized as to their inner workings and fantasized about getting your hands on one…

And now you’d finally done it.

Of course, you couldn’t snag one by yourself—you were only a frail scientist with a handful of fanatical ideas.

But, what you did have, were underground connections. People who you paid off to keep their mouths shut about the goings-on in your facility and who occasionally eliminated a few nosy annoyances if it was necessary. And all you had to do was slide over a wad of cash, whisper a few instructions into their ear and wait a couple of days for a Nomu to be delivered in one of your testing rooms.

It was the same Nomu from the U.S.J. attack that your ‘friends’ had kindly broken out of prison. And you were heading right for him.

‘Room 108 — Testing’, reads the sign outside the door you’ve locked the Nomu up in. Behind the steel barrier rests a monster bound in chains. You are unarmed, but feel confident in your ability to calm the beast should the opportunity arise. Besides, he was in chains—he couldn’t possibly break out. 

Right?

Right?

Your hand hovers over the door’s handle and you contemplate just abandoning this little project. After all, despite being a fanatical scientist, you did have some sense of self-preservation and you really did not want to get crushed to death by those giant, hulking arms of his…

You shake your head.

To abandon this project would be abandoning your integrity as a scientist. What you were going to do would go down in history as one of the biggest advancements in quirk development and you would not let fickle things such as ‘morality’ or ‘self-preservation’ get in the way.

You open the door.

The Nomu’s eyes latch onto you. Frenzied and unfocused, he looks you up and down yet his mannerisms aren’t at all sexual—more like he’s checking for weak points or weapons. The true mark of a beast. You shiver in fright as you stare up at the creation who, even in the chair he’s strapped to, towers over you. Seven feet, you think the media stated his height as. 

“Hello there,” You mumble out to get the conversation going. You’re not entirely sure if he can talk or if he wants to talk, but you know for a fact that he can hear you. “You wanna talk to me today?” No response. “Alright, that’s fine. Can’t imagine you want to talk to a strange person who kidnapped you, but I’m your friend.”

He stares blankly at you and you offer him a smile to reinforce your point.

“I’m just going to… Um,” What could you say? That you were going to fuck his brains out to see if you could rear a child who possessed multiple quirks just as their father had? “I’m just going to… Acquaint myself with you.”

And your dick.

You walked forward and were pleasantly surprised when he didn’t struggle against his chains… He was just watching, like a predator in wait. You reach within an inch of him and stop yourself. You’re about level with his muscled chest which spares you the embarrassment of having to look him in the eye whilst doing this. His head angles down to look at you, but you don’t meet his gaze, instead opting to reach a hand towards the zip of his khaki pants.

You hesitate when he rustles in his chains until you realize he’s just adjusting his position to give you better access. You look up at him. Does he want this? You were fully prepared to take what was yours without asking, but knowing that he wanted this would be comforting. 

You unzip his pants and maneuver it down slightly to free his cock. Even flaccid, it still holds a lot of girth and weight to it and, as you grasp for it, you gulp a little in the apprehension of it being inside of you. Your core thrums with excitement as you place both hands on his engorged prick and slide it up and down. His cock twitches match up perfectly to your shameful heartbeats.

Should I really be doing this? You ask yourself. 

He can’t give consent. 

It doesn’t matter; this is for the greater good. 

This is wrong. 

No, this is for science. 

Society says this is wrong.

Fuck society.

You pry your lips apart, a line of drool escaping as you feast your eyes on the snack in front of you. Now, with the semi-erect tip resting just in front of your face and your engorged clit twitching and pulsing, you swallow his cock. The taste of his pre is salty, but not at all overpowering, your lower half throbs again—begging you to pay attention to it—but you turn away from your own pleasure. 

The Nomu makes a low, guttural groaning sound that you assume is the closest he’s come to vocalization. Conjuring your inner blowjob skills, you press your tongue against the head of his cock then begin to bob up and down, using his groans as a guide to tell you if you’re doing something right or wrong. The temptations there, but despite the curiosity eating away at you, your eyes never meet his, sheerly because you’re afraid.

Afraid you’ll see the disapproving face of society sneering down at you, just as they had done when they cast aside your research years ago.

You continue on, closing your eyes as you focus solely on the salty muskiness that comes with arousal that lingers in the air.

Your fleshy insides burn, begging for a thick cock to just invade and ruin them. Your core twitches at that thought and you manage a small smile, even with a cock shoved between your lips. This, you tell yourself, is a new era for science—unbound by what humans call morality. For so long, science was hindered by ethics, but now, after you flaunted your half-Nomu, half-human child in society’s face and held up your scientific findings, science would finally be able to advance at lightning speed.

You yank your head back, allowing the Nomu’s spit-lathered cock to slip out from between your pillowy lips before standing up. Now was time for the real prize…

You easily unbutton and tug down your pants, pushing away the flimsy undergarments you chose to wear today before straddling the Nomu. The right head presses up against his abs as you give yourself a mental pep talk. I should’ve bought lube, you think as the very hard, very thick cock rubs against your sensitive, tight hole. Your hands find the Nomu’s broad shoulders and you cling on to dear life as you left yourself up.

He rustles against his chains and lets out another groan. You bite down hard onto your lip, grasping onto his throbbing cock and guiding it to your sopping cunt. With a pained moan, you sink down onto the cock. No amount of lube, you find, would prepare you for the behemoth cock inside of you. You aren’t sure who created this Nomu, but you wonder why they gave him such a massive dick. Were they ‘using’ this Nomu themselves or did they just do it for shits and giggles?

Either way, you scramble to slide the dick out of you, deciding it’s much too big for any human to handle. The Nomu’s chains rustle again and you feel two, hulking hands grasp your waist and SLAM you down onto the cock. 

You scream.

And struggle.

And flail.

But it’s no use. 

The Nomu had broken out of his restraints…

You cry out, “S—Stop! Pl—ah—Please!”

You know that you’re a hypocrite. Just moments ago, you were forcing yourself onto the Nomu, but that lapse in logic doesn’t cross your mind, not when you’re in such colossal pain. You throw your head back, a tear slipping from your eye as your cunt spasms—seemingly not recognizing the pain the rest of your body is in.

The Nomu grunts, grabbing you harder so his claws dig into the material of your dress shirt. Shamelessly, you moan—the buzzing in your lower half too much. You breathe heavily. Your tongue flops from the confines of your mouth, a sliver of saliva falling down and staining the Nomu’s pants as he thrusts up into you. 

Your hole clenches around him and your legs twitch at his invasion. You’re not supposed to enjoy this. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Those chains were supposed to be secure—your associates made sure of that. Why? Why had this happened?

Why—?

Why—?

Why—?

Was this karma? Some retribution for the vile acts you’d committed in the past? Was this society, finally come to punish you—by turning you into some brainless, lust-driven animal?

“Hah~” You groan out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You’re supposed to be a dignified, if immoral scientist. You’re supposed to pioneer the new era for science. “You—…” You lose your train of thought as the Nomu thrusts into you once more, hitting your fleshy G-spot and hammering it until all you can manage out are unfocused gurgles and illegible moans. You can’t conjure a single literate thought, your mind is completely befuzzled.

Your vocabulary has seemingly been replaced with the vocabulary of the very monster that’s fucking your brains out as of late. 

Your heart throbs… At least, you think it's your heart. With the way this beast is battering your insides, you can’t really tell the difference between your heart or your cunt. You can’t really focus on anything, really, all you think about is—

“Fuuuuck,” You moan out and you applaud yourself for vocalizing such a big word. You feel like you’re two again and your parents are trying to get you to talk in full sentences. Except, you’re a grown adult and you can’t even speak clearly.

Shameful.

“Awa—” You manage again, your cunt spasming around the ten inches of cock that’s brutalizing your body and threatening to slip past your cervix into your womb proper. The wet ‘slap’ ‘slap’ ‘slap’ and the Nomu fucking you is the only thing you can concentrate on. “I—”

You cum, moaning out garbled phrases as your world goes blank. Your clit—throbbing and engorged to the size of a small eraser—squirts out an ungodly amount of clear girl-cum. Your Nomu thrusts into you for a few more moments of pleasure-filled ecstasy before his hot, milky cum fills your womb to the brim. You groan out a few strings of unconnected word salad, your mind a mush.

Unthinking…

Feral…

Disgraceful…

All words that could describe the once intelligent, bright, passionate scientist known as [L/N] [F/N]. And you don’t give a damn, all you need to know is that you’re never going to stop feeling this intense pleasure. Let society mock you, they don’t know the true happiness that you feel.

You are enlightened.

You are purified.

Your mind is broken.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[lost-inthedream]

Discovering Youngbin sub side - part 3

Part 1

part 2

Warning: this is nsfw, (+18), light degradation, light bdsm.

Pairing sub Youngbin × dom female reader.

words: 1,7k

.

You saw so many items in that sex shop that it was almost impossible to choose what to use on your boyfriend.

You had asked the seller to show you some BDSM items and now you were looking at that section with your mouth a bit opened. You were so new to that experience but everything sounded more and more atractive. You should initiate a collection of toys!

“Lady?” the seller called you, dragging you out of your lustful daydream. “Will the toy be used on you or on…”

“It’s for my sub.” You interrupted her abruptly. Your cheeks automatically got red.

You had told that to someone else for the very first time. Yes, you had a sub and he was adorably. He treated you so well out of the bed that you felt like a flower, whose he provided all of the best just to maintain your colors bright. However, when it came to sex, lately he used to make also your mind more vivid. He enjoyed being at your mercy, having his body manhandled by you, his hair pulled, his mind blew up by pleasure. It all was so clear on his face when he got all wrecked and exhausted but still wanting to be brutally loved by you.

Only you.

“I would like to get this one and those two there" You pointed so the seller could take the toys for you.

…

You had not showed the toys to Youngbin yet. The bag was inside your dresser and he had you laying your head on his lap. You both didn’t really have any important task to do, so experimenting your new purchases wouldn’t be bad.

“Baby?” You called him. “ I have a surprise for you. Do you wanna see it?”

“Of course, my dear.” He answered pressing the flesh of your side a bit.

You put your hand over his and explained “To receiving this surprise, you have to call me madam once more.”

He immediately took his hand off of your body, entering his role right away. He couldn’t even think about the idea of doing something wrong to his lady.

“Oh” you said in admiration. Empting his lap. “Have we already started?”

“I guess we should start as soon as possible.”

“You shouldn’t take decisions. Anyway, you’re right. This time.”

“Sorry, Madam.”

You didn’t look to listen to his apology, just stood up and opened the dresser. He couldn’t see what was inside thanks to the angle, so you limited to take the blindfold first.

Youngbin got visible curious, you could see many questions popping in his mind, almost leaving his mouth. Even so he didn’t dare to ask you anything, since he had been already scolded for taking decisions before you say anything.

You got closer and kneeled on the bed. “Let me try it out  on you.”

He even lowered his head to make it easier.

“Good little slut”. You praised and he reveled you his beautiful smile adorned by the satin blindfold covering his eyes . You pressed his torso onto the headboard and held his face firmly. "I see that I won't need gag you today".

"Actually I'm not against it."

"I know. You're too good." Now you played with his v-neck, spying on his sic parvis magna tattoo.

"Does it bother you?" He searched for your face even though he couldn't see it.

"Not at all. I like you the way you are. Punishing you is even better when you're behaving." You laughed.

He bit his bottom lip almost smirking

"Listen" you spoke again "I went to a sex shop earlier and I told the saleswoman about you.

"Did you told her that I love being marked?"

"No"

"What a pity. You should have told"

You slapped him on the face so fast that he got confused.

"Are you telling me what to do?" You asked harshly close to his face.

"I'm so sorry, madam." He pouted.

You caressed the red skin. "I know what you mean. The idea of everybody knowing the slut you are turns you on."

He nodded in a hurry and you couldn't help kissing his lips. You loved the role he liked to play. You loved the way the two of you turned into something so new and exciting at those times. You were a strict dom with your good unashamed and also obedient boy.

"Imagine if one of you friend saw me leaving that store with a bag..." You supposed getting off the bed. "Imagine if I told them what I bought for you. They would never look at you in the same way. It would be a shame for you, Youngbin."

"But the truth is t-that I like your treatment." He stuttered.

"Well." You opened the dresser again. "Take tour pants off. Only. The. Pants."

You stoped with a body tickler in your hands to look his action.

Unzipening the pants, slidding them through his hips while raising it and finally getting rid of it.

"Are you gonna take your clothes off too, madam?"

You werent thinking about it but decided to tease him about it too.

"I'm gonna be only on my underwear."

During the time you took to undress, you observed his fingers clenching on the sheets, clearly avoiding to palm his member through the boxers.

You sat at his side making your bare thigh touch his, but moved his hand away from touching you in other way.

"Can you tell me which lingerie are you wearing?"

"Yes. Since you're asked me so politely. It's that red set you like."

“That little thong?”

"Correct." You breathed the word close to his ear making him shiver. “Do you wanna have your cock pumped, lovely?” You asked smoothly touching his waistband boxers.

“Yes! Pretty please,Madam.” He whimpered.

You got the body tickler close to his clad member, but choosing to drag the feather along his crotch instead. Your breath was still on his ear. His reaction was curious this time like he was trying to figure out silently what the hell was touching him. Even so, his body was shuddering a bit. You lifted his t-shirt and moved the curious toy to his sensitive nipples. He gasped and finally asked not what that toy was but why were you using that instead of hurting him with something fancy”

“Do you think I will always mark you? I already know you love it, so I’m gonna punish you with this black soft feather.”

He turned his head for you. “ But I’m doing as you said…”

“Don’t argue with me.”

“I’m sorry.” He apologized with some bitter in his voice.

You hummed and took his t-shirt off paying attention to not remove the blindfold too. You made him think you would take his boxers out too but you just lowered it enough to have the head passing the waistband out. You spread his legs in order to straddle one thigh, your covered core touching the skin close to his knee. Also your own knee went to lay lightly on his balls.

“you’re still on the red thong.” He noticed bythe touch on his flesh.

“yes”. You answered while rubbing the feather on the tip of his dick. “Tell me: do you touch yourself when I’m not with you?”

“N-no.”

“Really? I know when you lie, slut.”

“Hm.. Actually sometimes when I’m on a tour.”

“Yes? Bad behavior. You play the obedient slut in front of me but do this on my back.”

You pressed your knee a little between his legs without paying attention. You were getting upset. But still the body tickler was on his dick.

“I know you don’t like it but even so, I do it when I’m too horny to wait.” He added with the intention to provoke you, maybe you would give up of teasing him with that fucking toy and would actually hurt him in the heat of your feelings. “You wouldn’t ever discover it if you didn’t ask because I always fool you with my good behavior. I’m pretty good at controlling myself when I want to.”

You listened in silence feeling dumb.

“I am smarter than you thought, right?”

You threw the toy against the wall and left the bed to get you last secret.

“I accept that you are smart, but you’re going to regret it.”

You slapped his thigh with a small paddle. The subtle attack made him scream and take the blindfold off to see what had hit him. You slapped him on the face. “Shit! You’re stressing me out”

He pouted “If I am doing wrong, just hurt me” there was a red circle on his cheek and he looked about to cry.

You pulled him a bit wanting to have his body laying on the bed with bent legs and took his dick out of the boxers gripping it firmly,  you said harsh words “I didn’t like what you told me. Why did you fool me?”

He shrugged.

“Touch yourself now.”

You looked his hand going to his dick, wrapping his fingers over yours, still gripping his length. His thumb rubbing your skin while his eyes were locked on you asking for forgiveness. You took your hand off and he moved his up and down leisurely, his teeth sank on his bottom lip. You used the paddle again to hit him on the thigh. He stop for a second, only to let a small gasp escape. You hit again. “ Pump it without interruptions.”

He tried to nod but his breath was starting to get heavy so he looked a bit lost.

Your next slaps were harder, he couldn’t help minimal interruptions on his hands movements but it was cute. He just wasn’t able to scream, because of the impact, and pump his cock at the same time. You had an idea before he reached the climax. You passed two fingers inside his half open mouthed and felt his lips instinctively closing to them. He wanted to suck it.

Damn..

You smacked the paddle on him a last  time. This gave the best view ever. His mouth opened with your fingers inside, the scream was full of pain and his hand tightened around his dick making the cum pour. Your mouth smashed his while he finished himself draining all the seed he had. You swallowed his whimpers and caressed his tense abs.

“I didn’t know you cummed so good without me.”

[sparklyafterdark]

[08142019 "My dick isn't that big, you can handle it." and "That's it baby, you're doing great." Felix]

This totally isn't what you expected, but you love it. What more can you ask for? That cute guy you've been eyeing in Humanities class is sitting right there on your couch with you straddling his lap, his lips on your neck and his smooth hands roaming your body.

Well, maybe you lied a bit about not expecting this to happen.

We’ll just finish this paper and we’re done.

You both knew that was a joke. You both wanted it to happen even if it was only your subconscious deciding for you. You haven’t gotten laid in months, and maybe it was just your body talking, being so desperate and needy for something more than touching yourself under the covers. If you really wanted that damn project done, you would have taken him to the library or the study hall and not your dorm room. If he really just wanted to get some studying done, he wouldn’t have said yes. 

Felix is one of those guys you didn’t think would notice you in the first place and it’s not like he was always under your radar. Though he’s always been nice and friendly to everyone, he had his own circle of friends and all, and you’ve never exchanged more than a few words and passing glances. So when you were talking about where to meet up, both of you were surprised you suggested going to your room instead, but he agreed it was a good idea anyway.

The way Felix’s eyes crinkled when he giggled at you listing all the snacks you had in your room had you feeling some type of way. And how convenient is it that your roommate was out on a date? Perfect.

Gosh. Who knew the sound of his deep voice making the loveliest soft sighs as you grind on his lap would be this addicting? If that’s how he sounds like while you’re making out, thinking about how he sounds when he’s fucking you makes you even needier than you already are. He catches your lips in a kiss again, teeth grazing your bottom lip before swiping his tongue over the swollen spot he has just bitten, hands slipping under your shirt to caress your back and your sides and stopping just below your bra once he felt the underwire hit his hands.

"Go ahead, remove it if you want to,” You pull away breathless from his lips for a second and watch Felix’s eyes widen at your suggestion, and a playful smile quickly forms on his lips. He didn’t hesitate to lift your shirt and throw it to the floor, doing the same with his own garment. Fuck, you just want to lick and leave love bites all over those perfectly toned abs. His impatient hands don’t even wait to remove your bra before cupping your breasts, only lifting it at first so he can start sucking on your nipples while he undoes the hooks at the back.

Desperate for more friction between your legs, you rut against his lap even harder than before, feeling your underwear soaking through your shorts as you grind on his clothed erection. 

"You look so cute like that darling,” Felix hums as his lips briefly let go of one of your nipples but his free hand continuing to play with the other. "Need more?”

"You fucking tease, I’ll get back at you, you’ll see.” You breathe out and pull on his hair. "Bed, now,”

He kisses you again, even hungrier this time, not breaking contact as he carries you by the thighs and drops you gently to the edge of the bed. For someone who isn’t very big, he is surprisingly strong.

You waste no time pulling him by the drawstrings on his light grey sweatpants showing off his dick print and making you drool even more. 

"Oh, you’re hungry, I see,” He smiles at you sweetly as he looks down at you, stroking your cheek and tucking your hair behind your ear, pulling your chin up with a thumb and forefinger to make you look at him.

With one hand on your cheek and the other undoing his drawstrings, Felix doesn’t tear his eyes off you as he takes off his pants and underwear in one go. You salivate at his length dripping in pre-cum, springing free and pointing right at your face.

"All yours baby,” Like the good girl you are, you grab the base of his cock and start pumping gently, lapping up the pre-cum leaking from his tip. As his breathing starts to speed up, you take more and more of his length into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing every time his tip hits the back of your throat.

"F-fuck, you’re so good at this," You hum contentedly around his length and his hips buck into your mouth the faster you suck, meeting your mouth with thrusts desperate for more friction, then suddenly stopping you with both hands gripping hard on your shoulders. 

If he didn’t pull you away he'll be shooting down your throat. He's panting heavily, eyes shut tight and jaw hanging slightly open, trying really hard not to cum. 

"Sorry, was that too much?" Felix only grunts and pushes you down the bed in response. Your underwear is off in a second, his tongue hungrily licking up your folds, lips sucking on your clit and fingers pumping and stretching out your entrance. His pace is frantic, groaning at how wet you are and so intent on making you even wetter. 

You almost couldn't breathe at the pleasure and your heart feels like it’s going to jump out of your chest at the sight of Felix pulling away to put a condom on. He takes notice right away and stops as he's halfway through tearing the wrapper open with his teeth.

"Hey, babe, still ok? You look really… Nervous…" His eyes scan your face carefully in search of signs that maybe you didn't want to continue anymore. "Do you still wanna do this?" You want nothing more than Felix fucking you into oblivion but the way his forehead creases in concern calmed your heart a bit. What were you even so nervous about? Is it too much excitement? You didn’t really understand why your over-dramatic ass is making such a huge deal out of this either. 

You laugh breathlessly and fall against the mattress, with Felix following suit and laying beside you. 

"Lix, I'm okay, really, and I want this…" You roll over to your side so you're facing him. "I… I guess it's just that… I haven't… in a long time…" 

"So that's what you were worried about," Felix breathed a sigh of relief and pulled you in for a kiss. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you,"

"Uhm... Not really worried or scared? I don't know? I guess I was too excited that it made me look scared?" Well, fuck, that was embarrassing to admit, but the fact that Felix was willing to adjust and take care of you just made you want him more than you already do.

"My dick isn't that big, you can handle it," There's a hint of pride in his grin as he moved to straddle you. 

"I'm pretty sure I can," You chuckle and grip the sheets tight and squeeze your thighs together as you watch him roll the condom on, opening your legs for him promptly as soon as he was done.

"You're so ready for me," His words paired with his fingers rubbing circles on your clit and spreading the wetness at your entrance made you squirm around so much and he had to hold your hips down. He holds your waist tight as he enters slowly, making you feel every bit of him, and your mouth falls into a silent scream as you feel his length filling you up.

Once he's confident that you've adjusted well enough, he starts moving and it's pure bliss.

So it is true what they say about dancer hips. They're fucking irresistible, slick movements capable of turning you into putty within seconds. He may not be that big but he surely made up for that in skill.

"That's it, baby, you're doing great," For a while, nothing could be heard in the room aside from your whimpers and his moans, your fingers running through his hair in an attempt to steady your breathing and his eyes locked on yours like he wants to remember all the faces and sounds you make while you're under him.

"S-so good, Lix- I'm-" Gradually, the pressure in your core gets closer and closer to its breaking point, every thrust threatening to push you off the edge.

"Really babe? Where? Where does it feel good?" He angles his thrusts expertly to hit where you need it most. "Right here?"

You cry out at the sudden jolt of heat and pleasure searing through your body, the clenching of your walls around his cock turning his hips into an uncoordinated mess. Things quickly take a messy turn as his movements get more and more relentless and it didn't take long until he pulls out to release on your stomach and breasts, both of you watching in awe at the thick ribbons of cum he's decorating your body with and dripping down the sheets. 

"Shower?" Felix whispers and kisses the top of your head as he helps you clean up the mess he made on your body with tissues. 

"Another round?" You give him a knowing look and he pinches your nose. 

"I think you're forgetting why I came here in the first place," 

"Of course I remember!" You laugh and gather your clothes on the way to the shower, throwing him a suggestive look before closing the door, inviting him to join in. "Research paper and chill."

[goodnightallwhites]

Daugherty's Daughter By BlackingPacking

Daugherty's Daughter 

By BlackingPacking 

Submitted: November 30, 2019 Updated: November 30, 2019 

Slutty white wife and mother, Charlotte Daugherty, cuckolds her husband Dan. He takes out his impotent sexual frustration on their daughter, who soon too becomes a slut for BBC 

Contains: NTR/Cuckolding, Interracial (Blacked/BBC), father-daughter incest, SPH, dubcon, very extreme 

Provided by Hentai Foundry.  

Chapter 1 - Cuckold's Frustrations 2 

Chapter 2 - Charlotte Gets What She Wants 11 

1 - Cuckold's Frustrations 

Dan Daugherty always got his wife everything she wanted. He worked for a large finance company, so he could definitely afford it. He and said wife, Charlotte, lived comfortably in their two story house with their beautiful young daughter, Phoebe. Charlotte was now nearing 40, the decade she often teased her scrawny, brown-haired husband, who was a few years older than her, for being. Still, she kept up with herself. She hadn’t worked for well over a decade, since Phoebe was born, and always spent her days at spas, salons, or get-togethers with her girlfriends. Sometimes for days on end. Dan payed for it all, of course. He was used to paying for women. 

It wasn’t only his wife. In his company, Dan was a middle ranking employee, with enough power to manage promotions that could get people higher, but he was never good enough at his job to manage much more. This meant that sometimes, timid little Dan got over his head, socially. 

This came in the form of a hot blonde girl with big dreams, big tits, a big ass, and a tiny waist. She had straight, strawberry blonde hair, and a little nametag saying Kara on her sweater. She’d work with Dan and saw how, whenever he had to talk to his wife, he never looked at ease. She took advantage of this, and eventually got him to let her suck him off. 

Under his desk, Kara put on her reddest lipstick she had on her fat, dick-sucking lips. Excited, she pulled down his pants to see... to see... 

Well, it sure was a penis. A short, needle-like one at that, nestled in some curly brown hair on his crotch, but none on his body or legs. Still, Kara wanted that raise. So she sucked him in between her lips, and not very far past, until he came in about a minute and a half. 

“What an adorable little penis,” she told him, “I’m sure your wife doesn’t give that cute dick of yours the attention it deserves. Only I see how great it is.” She’s tell him things like that all the time, making him think she was in love, until she got promoted and forgot all about him. Now Kara was his boss, and made sure to always strut in her office skirt around him. She pinched his ass and called him ‘pin dick’ at the coffee machine. She was dating some black male model now, which she never failed to flaunt. “Ever hear of BBC?” She’d ask the young office girls like she was a fucking missionary. She knew she hated missionary. “The rumors are true,” she said. He’d heard one of the office girls got a tramp stamp larger than her hand about wanting to fuck black guys. He hated Kara now, but at least he was happy with his wife. 

One weekend though, Charlotte left the house on friday and didn’t respond to her husband 

until she strutted through the front door in a new white dress with gold jewelry and her blonde hair curled beautifully. In her cream-white stilettos she was at least Dan’s height, and he wasn’t physically imposing at all either way. Besides, her little hubby couldn’t stop staring at how her bouncy tits and impossibly sexy ass looked in that dress. How could he deny her. 

The next weekend, the same thing happened. That sunday evening she returned, she wore a sky blue dress, much shorter this time, and even bigger gold jewelry. It was so short that when she walked up the stairs, he could see right between her legs and her asscrack. He stared at them like a pervy little boy. 

When he tried to fuck her that night, she said she was too tired. Still, he hadn’t got to stick Danny Jr. inside any part of Charlotte since his birthday. He had to excuse himself to the bathroom, sitting his unremarkable body on the toilet and jerking his 4 inch dick off to his own wife a few meters away until he came into the bowl. 

She promised him she’d call the next weekend. They spoke exactly once, during her lunch on Sunday, when she said she’d be coming home. 

That night, in bed, she said she wasn’t horny again. He tried to touch her pussy, but she easily swatted away his thin-wristed arms. Still, he could’ve sworn he felt her wetness. That’s when he began to think she was cheating on him. 

He wasn’t willing to confront her, of course. He hoped it was something else. That Wednesday, Charlotte brought home a shopping bag. In it was a sex toy. She said she wanted to ‘spice up’ the bedroom. That meant that she got to fuck herself with that 8 inch blue silicone bullet, while he wrapped one small hand around his cock and jerked off on his half of the bed. He thought about her cheating on him with a guy that big. A guy twice his size. Unlike last week, he came buckets. 

She felt generous then, and actually let him fuck her on Thursday. She spread her full, curvy legs for him. Her lace panties dangled from one ankle. Thrilled at finally being allowed to have sex with his own wife, he grabbed onto her, buried his face in her big, soft jugs, and fucked her as hard as he could. It lasted all of two minutes. The rest of the night, she fucked herself with the dildo again. Friday was the same. She went out, bought some new makeup, ate at some overpriced hippie cafe, and fucked herself with her new dildo that night as her hubby curled up beside her. 

Charlotte was cheating on him, of course. She met up with a black young entrepreneur, Purcell, who owned one of the African fusion restaurants she frequented. He always talked about African culture, revitalizing black youth. He had posters of Black Panther and Creed on his loft bedroom walls. Charlotte often saw them when she was riding his 12+ inch monster of a dick. She couldn’t see them so well when her back was pushed into the mattress as he drilled her deep. She always squirted on those perfect abs of his. He made her a screamer. 

The loudest she screamed though was when he put it in her asshole. For the first few times, on her nights out before that first weekend, it would hurt when he’d simply fuck her pussy. He was 3 times bigger than the dick she was used to having, after all. But soon she got stretched out and used to it. A few weekends in, that was why she bought the dildo. Dan would definitely know something was up if he tried to fuck her before. She was being generous by getting a dildo halfway between the two men in her life’s size. When Dan felt stretching, he assumed it was the toy. 

Her birthday was coming up though. The big 4 0. Purcell had promised his busty, leggy girlfriend the time of her life that weekend. But Dan also wanted to give her a real treat too. Charlotte has to do the right thing. The Friday before her birthday, she was outside Purcell’s apartment complex around 6pm right when Dan was getting home from work. She wore jean hot pants and a tight crop top t-shirt that said ‘you aren’t big enough for these.’ What a total slut. She called her husband. 

“Hey Dan, it’s Lotte,” she said boredly as he picked up. 

“Oh- um, hey baby, how’s it going? Gonna be home soon?” 

“About that, honey...” she trailed off. 

“What? Hey, I know things have been a little rough between us, but-“ 

“What? I think we haven’t been happier in years, Danny.” 

“Oh-“ he paused. 

“Do you think I’m cheating on you?” She said curtly. 

“I- buh- duh- what? No, of course I don’t think you’re cheating on me. Why would I think that. I mean, sure... my mind wandered a little wondering why you’ve been spending weekends away, but-“ he didn’t finish his thought, just running his thin fingers through his pale brown side-parted hair. God, he was dense. 

“I have been." 

“I trust you enough tha- wait, what?!” He jumped 

“I’ve been cheating on you for a month and a half now. I love you, and I want the best for our daughter, but- I also met this guy. His names Purcell, and he’s black, and he owns a restaurant, and he’s huge- well, I already said he’s black,” she giggled. Dan was speechless. “But the point is... I love him too, and I really want his birthday gift for me. Not 

that I don’t want yours but... his dick makes me feel better than your little one ever has. You just can’t make me cum, you haven’t once since college... but I promise things’ll be as wonderful as they once were if you let me do this. And I know about Kara.” She paused for effect, “so- can I?” 

“I-I-I-“ he breathed, unable to make a sound. “Yes babe, of course.” He muttered. His default response when his wife asked for something. 

“Great! Love you hun, I’ll send you pics!” She hung up just like that. 

Dan wanted to throw a hissy fit. How could he be so weak willed? How could he let his wife walk right over him like that? How long had she known about Kara? Had that been why she had to leave him- cuckold him- with a black guy? He ran into his walk in closet, expecting to cry but instead jerking off. 

He shot his load onto the carpet, and kept stroking his little dick, imagining a huge black dick pile driving his wife’s pussy. He remembered her talking about her parties in high school, how she’d always let guys fuck her before she mellowed out her senior year. Was she like this even then? How many guys in her hometown were black? 

Suddenly, Phoebe walked in, wearing short shorts and a teal tank top. “Yeah, I don’t think dad’s home. Better that way, since my door doesn’t lock, and the water’s shut off to the other upstairs bathroom.” She was on the phone. “No, I don’t wanna do it downstairs! It’s.. weird if I do it in the guest bathroom. Especially if I’m thinking about my dad!” 

What was she talking about? “You’re lucky. You got to finger yourself to your dad with your door locked.” Fingering?! “You’ve done it downstairs- wait, but I always complain that Uncle Bryce’s downstairs didn’t lock. You fucking perv!” 

Bryce... that was Charlotte's brother! You knew that Phoebe was close to her cousin Martha, but was that who was on the phone? We’re they talking about- fingering, though? And what was that about dads... 

“Yeah, talk later Martha,” that confirmed it, “have fun flicking your bean in the guest toilet to your own fuckin dad like some weirdo. I’m gonna masturbate using my dads soap and shower head, like a normal girl.” He totally ignored how much trouble he should be putting his daughter in. Dan’s little dick was hard. “Oh shut up, you jilled off to your dad first. Well I think MY dad’s hotter. Whatever, Martha. Bye, have fun!” She hung up and turned the shower on. Dan, behind her, stepped out of the closet onto the marble tiled floor of their expensive bathroom. 

“Wha- DAD?!?” Phoebe jumped, terrified as she realized what she’d been caught saying. She already had her shirt and bra off, revealing her flat, underdeveloped tits. She didn’t look 

like she would inherit her mother’s tits or ass. She looked like a girl who wasn’t old enough to be masturbating, or shouldn’t be. Her height didn’t help either. 

“D-dad,” she spoke with fear and embarrassment. He reached out and turned off the loud shower. “I-I- this-“ 

“What were you saying about me?” Asked Dan. He was ecstatic- he lost his wife, but he’d been gifted his own daughter! Phoebe was often neglected. Charlotte, that materialist bitch, preceded to hire the maid to care for her daughter. But now, Dan has a chance to prove himself as the real patriarch of this family, not some- some- some nigger who Charlotte’s big tits here were wrapped around right now... 

The thought made Dan seethe. But now, he could take out all his impotent rage on his whorish wifes own daughter. Her tiny frame would easily be overwhelmed by even his small cock. It might not have even been incest. Phoebe probably wasn’t even his. He was going to make her his though, and Charlotte would regret messing with him. 

Finally, she answered. “I- I’m turned on by you, dad... when I see mom kiss you and when you tap her ass... I wanted that too and... I’ve been thinking about it for a while... I’ve really wanted you to fuck me,” she looked up at him, suddenly terrified again, “-a-as a fantasy though! Not as an actual thing I was planning on, I swear, daddy!” 

“Oh, but,” he growled, trying and failing to sound aggressive, “I want you too,” he grabbed her thin waist and pulled her close, making her jump a little. Her flat chest barely shook. 

She looked up at him with green, pretty eyes. His were hazel. He blamed his stupid slut wife. 

“Really?” Asked Phoebe, reaching out to touch his nonexistent pectoral. 

“Yes, Phoebe baby. Your mom and I..” he grit his teeth.. “aren’t doing too well. I think I need you to make me feel better. Can you do that?” He took his hand, walking backwards towards his room. 

Daddy’s little girl, Phoebe Daugherty nodded. “Y-yes daddy. I’ll make you feel good. I’ve never done anything with a boy but I’ve seen porn. I’ll try my best.” 

“Good girl,” he said, feeling more dominant than he ever did with Charlotte. He walked out onto the carpet of the master bedroom and sat down on the large chair on the left of the bathroom doorway. Dan pushed the footrest out of the way and had his daughter kneel there instead. His rage at his own impotence and his hatred for how Charlotte was cuckolding him right now made him forget that this was even his baby girl. 

Charlotte, as Dan undid his pants again, was miles away in the stylish, urbane, gray loft 

owned by Purcell. She strutted in happily, swaying her fat white ass in the shorts that barely covered it. Purcell was on the couch in front of a table of African artifacts. He got up and welcomed her with a deep, tonguey kiss and a slap on the ass. 

“Wanna give me my present now, babe?” She breathed hotly into his wide lips. He smiled and led her into his room, where she was shocked by the presence of three more black guys. Like him, they were all over 6 feet tall and muscular. They all wore some variation of a t short and running shorts that did nothing to hide their bulges, just like Charlotte’s tiny t-shirt did nothing to hide her cleavage, or her under boob, or her hard nipples. 

“Oh- oh, my!” Charlotte’s cock-needy lips and pretty blue eyes went wide seeing the display. While her friends had introduced her to BBC porn a full year ago, she had only ever actually slept with Purcell. Now she was getting 3 new hung black guys. 

“You like my friends babe?” He asked. She nodded, pulling up her red bikini bottoms she wore under her shorts. “Glad to hear,” she bit her lip. She was getting wet just by hearing him speak. “Ever had guys run train on you?” 

“I-“ she had been in a gangbang once, as a senior in high school. Those boys were all white though, and she wasn’t the only girl there. “No,” she decided that a half dozen white guys humping her legs until their little pink dicks turned purple and shot a load like she was a Barbie doll they got to undress didn’t count. “I’ve never. But I’d love too.” 

“Hear that, boys?” Purcell slapped Charlotte on her as. Charlotte took it with a smile. They smiled back as they took off their shirts, showing the kinds of muscles that were the reason Dan never took her to the beach. She took off her wedding ring and fell into their big, strong arms, letting them kiss her and grope her. She had to look straight up to make out with the tallest one, while the one made out with her neck and another literally tore her shirt off of the swinging spheres of her tits. She liked that shitt. But she liked how they pressed their huge bulges into her sides much more. 

Meanwhile, Dan was struggling to overpower his own tiny daughter, desperate to fuck her silly. His destroyed ego demanded that Phoebe fuck him, and, although she was planning to masturbate to that very thought before he grabbed her, she was resisting. 

“Daddy- unf~ Daddy!” she pushed his arm off her nonexistent tit, while his other one was down his pants, grabbing at his dick. “This is wrong! We shouldn’t do this!” she insisted 

“Phoebe! Phoebe, please!” He yelled. He had never yelled at his daughter. His hair and eyes made him look like a mess. “D-don’t you wanna make me feel good?” 

Phoebe did want to make her dad feel good... and cum... but she wasn’t sure. Sure, he was deciding for her basically, but he never acted like this around her. He was always very 

passive, never making her do anything. Now... this? With the drip of her pussy in those short shorts she was this close to taking off, she knew she wanted it too. 

“Okay Daddy...” she breathed, hoping to not make him angry, “I’ll make you feel good.” 

“Good girl,�� breathed Dan. Instead of taking his dick out though, he felt up her chest again. She was still flat as a board, but whenever he thought of his ideal tit size, all he could think of was how Charlotte probably had a huge black rod between hers. She did. He just kept massaging his daughter. Those soft, sensitive, unmanly hands of his felt her sides, her hips, and, when he bent down so far that his face was in her neck, he felt the doughy softness of her asscheeks. She turned crimson. 

He breathed heavily, overcome with perverse lust. “D-daddy’s gonna bring out his cock now, sweetie,” he told her. She simply sat on her knees with her hands on her silky thighs. He fumbled on his pant’s buttons, desperately wanting them out. Eventually he got it, and in one swift movement, he pulled his pants down to his ankles. 

Phoebe, the incestous little slut, was face-to face with her father’s own tiny, white cock. Her eyes widened, and her pussy immediately dried up. 

“W-what is that?” she asked him. 

“My dick,” said Dan, sounding nothing like her father, even though she barely knew her father. He pushed the skinny thing towards her, “Suck it.” 

“B-but why is it so small?” Phoebe really wanted to pleasure her dad, to suck him off until he shot a huge load in her face. But... this? How could she love a cock that was barely larger, in any way, than her finger? If she made a fist, it was more than twice the size of his balls. 

To her shock, the then hit her face. Not hard, he wasn’t man enough to do that. But still, a slap was a slap. 

“What did you say?” he asked her, suddenly only seeing her mother in the beautiful young girl. 

“Y-your penis isn’t that big, daddy- I-I’ve seen much bigger in porn, I’m sorry-” 

He raised his hand again, “You’ve been watching porn?!” He knew that when his wife began masturbating by herself, it was all over for him. He couldn’t believe the same was happening to his daughter. 

“N-no! I- I meant good! Your dick is sooo good, daddy! Look-” almost crying, she began to suck it. It tasted strange- plain, not at all sexy. Once, she sucked her own virgin pussy juices, 

and that got her hotter than ever before. This did one of that, even when his precum started leaking, it just tasted like water. She sucked and sucked as well as she could. Phoebe had no idea how to suck a dick, but, at the very least, her dad’s was so small that it fit right in between her little lips. He didn’t have to worry about scraping on her teeth or choking her. 

She wrapped her tongue around the quivering little white pin she desperately tried to satisfy. Dan felt great by this. He leaned his head back, and finally relaxed, as if it wasn’t clear to everyone now that he was just a pathetic, creepy white guy. His own daughter wiggled her tongue around his pencil shaft. He wasn’t even into incest, but, the quickshot that he was, once her saliva-coated tongue finsihed licking the tip of his dick inside her mouth, he started cumming. 

His orgasm was drawn out, with thin ropes of cum spraying into his daughter’s mouth slowly. It had no power or force, nothing sexy at all. She would never masturbate to her dad ever again. Instead, she just spit his cum out on his hairless thigh. 

“You’re supposed to swallow!” he yelled. Not that Charlotte had ever swallowed his cum, since he usually popped his teeny top before he even shoved it in her mouth. Phoebe just looked grossed out. His dick, as much as she wanted to love it, was now an ugly, throbbing purple. It looked like it would pop, and it wasn’t big enough to look like it should be throbbing. She said nothing 

Back in the loft, Charlotte was getting absolutely rammed. She was on the red futon, getting to experience how it really felt for BBC to run train on her. A black guy was under her, slamming his dick deep in her babymaker with his balls slapping her taint. Two more were in front of her, making her stretch her cheeks out like a chipmunk to suck both of them off at once. She was terrified of what would happen when their monster dicks, big enough to dwarf rulers, would blast their cum in her gullet. It felt so good. 

Best of all, on top of her, with hands on her shoulders and arms on the armrest, Purcell was fucking her ass, raw. No matter what the others did to her, Purcell had stayed in her asshole the entire gangbang. His 40th birthday present was a 12 and a half inches (Charlotte liked to say 13) deep of rough anal sex. His cum had been churning deep in her guts, and his thrusts now had been picking it up and making it froth out like runny butter. She felt her whole asscrack, taint, and pussy feel covered in melted fluids. If it ever got too messy, she’d just lick it up herself. She loved it. 

Her husband, meanwhile, had grabbed their little daughter and bent her over the bed, facedown, ass up, despite her protests. Without even seeing his wife lover fuck her with his massive dark fuckmeat, BBC had already totally mindbroken the timid white man. Here he was, forcing his crying daughter’s face into his and his wife’s bed’s comfoters. He spread her legs apart, staring at her beautiful, but dry pussy. 

With his pinkish red dick standing as hard as a needle, he lowered his skinny torso into her slim thighs, taking his daughter for himself. He molested her with whiny grunts, the kind that Charlotte was absolutely done with. Frustration was something that Dan had been faced with all his life, and now he was letting it all out on Phoebe. The frustration he had since the first time he first found a porno mag with huge dicks when he was fourteen, all the girls he jerked off too but wouldn’t date him, to all the porn he watched when internet porn first got big in college, even when he was dating Charlotte. All of it, all directed in his pathetic thrusts into the tiny girl. 

As he raped his virgin daughter, she felt every twitch of his dick like only a girl her size could. Even though it felt far bigger in her than her mother would’ve felt it, she didn’t enjoy it one bit. He joylessly came in her pussy, shooting his white load into her just deep enough so that its small contents couldn’t even drip out of her. He told her to get out of his room, and he slept. 

Meanwhile, Purcell had finally taken his painfully hard cock, having cum in her anus 5 or 6 times, out from between her thick asscheeks, letting her suck the soaking member clean. He and his friends gathered around Charlotte as she kneeled on the floor. They jerked off and let her jerk them off and suck them off until she looked like a bukkakke porn star. Once they all came, she was exhausted, but they wanted more. They tossed her back on the futon and had their way with her. 

Purcell came deep in her pussy enough times with enough force to not only make her squirt hotly, but to get her pregnant too. 

She would be furious with Dan when she got home, but she didn’t know that yet. Even her daughter hated Dan's small, perverted white cock more than anything. For now though, Charlotte was blissfully having the best fucking sex of her entire life. 

To be continued... 

2 - Charlotte Gets What She Wants 

“You did WHAT to her?!” screamed Charlotte. Her big slutty tits swung with every word. 

Dan, emasculates and afraid, shrunk down onto the cushions of the light gray, modern style couch. On the other side of the coffee table, Phoebe was curled up. She looked at her father with nothing but hatred. 

“YOU SICK FUCKING FUCK,” Charlotte kept screaming, “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOUR STUPID PUSSY ASS DO TO OUR DAUGHTER? What the FUCK did you do?” 

“I-I-“ he backed up, scared of his adulterous wife. Dan was in a t-shirt and boxer underwear, while Charlotte was in a pink sundress, and Phoebe was in a tank top and volleyball shorts. 

“You AGREED I was going to have a FUCKING MARVELOUS weekend- and it’s all ruined this morning by a call from my FUCKING DAUGHTER about her IMPOTENT BITCH OF A DAD FUCKING RAPING HER WITH HIS STUPID TINY COCK! Am I WRONG?” She slammed her fist against the couch with every word. 

Dan was, as always, too wimpy to disagree. 

“Mom- wha- what’s going on?” Asked Phoebe. 

Charlotte turned to her beloved white daughter. She walked over and knelt in front of her, saying, “Oh, sweetie, it’s mommy’s business. Grown up stuff, nothing you’d understand.” 

“Mom,” said the girl who, even though she was babies, was still old enough to regularly watch porn and masturbate her smooth little cunt. 

“What? Yes, baby, mommy’s here,” Charlotte calmed her down, “mommy’s just, um, got a new boyfriend that’s all. And sometimes mommy goes and sees him. That’s okay, right?” 

“Mom,” grumbled Phoebe, “I’m not fucking 6. I know you cheated on him!” 

Charlotte looked back. She paused. “Alright, yes- mommy cheated on daddy. I’m a fucking whore, a total fucking SLUT cockwhore bitch. But you saw him! You saw that your dad is a sick, perverted, useless, weird piece of trash, right?” 

Phoebe nodded. “He’s so gross! I’ll never think the same way of him again! I mean, I guess it’s the same for you, mom, but at least you’ve got a reason. I... I’d wanna get f-fucked by a real man too! And he’s... hes just-” 

“A little fucking L O S E R?” her mom volunteered. Phoebe nodded along. 

“H-hey,” stuttered Dan. The scrawny white man crawled up from his fetal position, “S-she was on the phone, talking about sexual things with her cousin! About having sex with me and your brother! A-and she watches porn too!” 

“Didn’t I tell you to SHUT THE FUCK UP!?” screeched Charlotte. Her cuck hubby was soon put in his place. “So what? She’s young and stupid. We were too, remember? The difference is, when I had kinky fantasies, you were always too pathetic to do them! You’d fucking cum in a minute and then roll over and go to fucking sleep! If you wanted to rape someone, rape me ten years ago! Then I wouldn’t have become a fucking anal fuckslut! This is your fault!” 

With shaking arms, she turned to her daughter, “And of course I wouldn’t judge you for watching porn! That’d be such fucking hypocrisy! After all, I’m the one who had a train run on her with four fucking black cocks last night! The only problem Phoebe and her cousin has is they still think white BITCHBOYS can do it!” 

“F-four?” Dan sounded like he was tearing up. 

“Oh fuck yeah honey. My REAL man Purcell and three of his friends.” The room went quiet. “What? Oh, yeah, stay quiet. Because there’s nothing you can say about how I’m a fucking whore for biiiig, blaaack COCKS! I fucking fit four huge fucking black dicks up this asshole,” she pulled her dress up and showed her gaping anus to her husband and daughter, “They fucking shot their fucking cum all the way up my dirty fucking asshole. And it’s fucking thick too, unlike yours! I bet you fucking wish you could do that, huh? With that fucking little stupid 4 inch peice of shit! Do you wanna know how big my lovers were?” 

“H-how big?” asked Dan weakly as he was slumped on the couch. 

Charlotte noticed a tiny tent on her loser husband’s boxers. She wrinkled her nose at it, but then lunged at him. She grabbed at his underpants. Her boobs swung in his face. She easily overpowered him, throwing hus underwear on the floor. 

Exposed to his ruined family was Dan’s four inch skinny little white boy cocklet. It stood up straight and hard in the thin, soft bush that was his excuse for body hair. 

“Fucking fuck. Look at that pathetic LITTLE thing. My BULLS were fucking three times that big! The smallest was 10 inches, the biggest was fucking 13! THIRTEEN! How could your little fucking dick compare, huh? HUH?” 

She turned around. Phoebe was staring at his penis with disdain. Though neither girl thought penis was the best word. 

“Is that it, sweetie? That’s the thing that defiled you, right?” asked Charlotte. 

Phoebe nodded. “Yes, mom... it’s fucking gross. I can’t believe I had a fucking incest fetish...” 

“It’s alright baby- it’s alright. Look. Hey, BITCH!” She yelled at her husband, “I’m gonna get our fucking daughter some good porn with some good dicks so she can forget about your little loser thing, 

alright? And never touch her again, you- you- you fucking sick fucking fuck!” She punctuated her scolding with a few sharp kicks to his tiny, shaking balls. 

“AAAh! OW OW OW! H-HONEY- m- my-” 

“Your what? Your fucking little cuck balls? The ones that can’t produce enough fucking sperm to make a girl feel even fucking halfway filled! Look! Look...” she walked over to Phoebe. “Take your pants off, baby. I wanna show him how different cum can be. And how, even if this shitbag who owns our house took your virginity, your sex life can still be a fucking blast, alright baby?” She asked her daughter. Phoebe nodded and slipped off her leggings. Charlotte hiked her skirt all the way up. 

Both were smooth pussied, but Charlotte’s was shaved, with looser, darker lips, while Phoebe’s was natural. A pretty pink tight pussy. She might has well have been a virgin. 

“Now spread your legs,” instructed Charlotte. Phoebe obeyed. “Now look at the cum left over from last night.” The house’s matriarch fingered her daughter, eventually coaxing out a flow of sticky liquid which dripped onto her hand. Charlotte grabbed a china plate from the coffee table and smeared Dan’s cum on it. 

“Look at that,” whispered Charlotte mockingly, “look how thin it looks!” she was right. Dan’s shrivelled balls had given them watery, impotent cum of either a boy much younger or a man much older than him. It only even looked white when it was clumped together. 

“And now,” she said while standing up and spreading open her asscheeks right over the fancy plate, “mommy’s black boyfriend’s cum.” she pushed hard and stretched her asshole out with two fingers until eventually a big steady stream of smooth, thick, rich, creamy cum came out. All of it was plump and healthy. It landed with a splogsh and made a big, opaque puddle on the plate. It was almost yellowish it was so creamy. And it totally eclipsed Dan’s tiny load. 

“See who’s superior?” asked Charlotte. 

“T-that’s a wedding gift...” was all he could whimper about the show on the expensive plate. 

“Oh boo fucking hoo, I squirted black cum out of my ass onto our shitty wedding present,” she grabbed a matching china cup and brandished it, “What if I fucking pissed in this one and made you fucking drank it? How would you feel about that, huh?” she waved the cup around under her pale white crotch, “if you’re lucky maybe you’d fucking get to drink some of their delicious cum with my piss. How about fucking that? You should fucking respect what I do for you and listen to what I fucking say! Ungrateful little pervert piece of shit! Apologize!” 

“Yes,” he curled up again, this time closer to the edge of the couch. “I’m sorry Charlotte... I’m sorry Phoebe... for being a perverted POS.” 

“Good. Now I have an errand to run. Don’t you even dare fucking move. And don’t even FUCKING LOOK at Phoebe!” she pulled her skirt down, grabbed a coat and her purse, slipped back on her slutty high heels, and strutted out the door. 

Once she was gone, Phoebe got up. She sniffled a little. Even though her pussy’s wetness said that, like her mother, she got off on being a snowbunny dom, she was still upset at what happened to her family. 

“I hope you’re happy with mom only fucking black guys now. And never you, ever again,” she said as she took out her phone and opened it up. 

Dan sniffled too, sounding more like a bitching little dog than a man. He wasn’t the man of this house anymore. He hadn’t ever been, since Charlotte discovered black cock, but now he knew it. His head was buried in between his smooth, effeminate legs, and he was sitting on his scrawny ass and feet, with his tiny little balls poking out from his crotch. It looked like a pale hackeysack covered in thin straw. Wasn’t much bigger than one either. Over it hung the soft, impotent little worm that was his cock. Keyword was. Now it was a useless little twig of flesh. 

Dan pissed himself. His little dicklet perked up, and out of it came a steady, pale flow of piss from the organ which now was only for that. It tinkled all over his little balls. The hair got wet, but looked no thicker. Some got on his thighs, covering his pointless manhood in his cowardice. He was like a dying animal, emptying his bladder all over himself when he felt it was all over. It was, in a way, for him. He cried as he soaked the couch cushion. 

Phoebe walked over to the front entryway, on the side of which was a cushioned, round area to the left of the front door, bordered by windows. She sat down in it to talk on her phone. She’d already gone to contacts, and scrolled to the number for Kevin. 

Kevin Gold was a young white kid and a school friend of Phoebe’s. He was around her height, with light blonde hair with a touch of strawberry, smooth skin and a youthful face. He was average in body, but still rather attractive, and was madly in love with Phoebe Daugherty. Little did he know, she had a crush on him too. 

When he picked up the phone though, he answered as her best friend. 

“Hey, Phoebe. What’s up?” 

She sniffled, “I don’t know, Kev. My parents are fighting, and... I don’t know how to feel. My dad’s a piece of shit, but my mom’s... so different about it. I think I got it. But I think I’ll be fine. I just need someone to talk to. Can we talk? Not about me. About... about something else. Okay?” 

Kevin, of course, agreed. They talked for a bit, and Phoebe felt better. Kevin told her to just trust in herself. With some soul searching, Phoebe realized how different she felt. How her slutty black cock loving mom awakened something in her. Just then, Phoebe had to hang up, because her mom was back. 

She walked back into the living room. Her dad was still sitting on the couch, but not crying anymore. 

Charlotte burst through the door. Shopping bags were in her ams and a strange smile was on her face. It was a look she hadn’t had all day. From the moment she walked in and said, “Alright, my happy little white family, let’s see what the real world has for us,” both new something was up. 

Phoebe was getting excited. She was proud to be this woman’s daughter. While she had very quickly grown to despise her father, she replaced all of that with how, sexually, she admired her mom so much more. Her mother looked like a million bucks- she put some makeup on, maybe did her hair a little, but that wasn’t the point. If her hair was a rat’s nest she’d still be the same. Her sexy body filled out that lilac dress perfectly, and the way she carried herself made her tits and thighs ooze with sex appeal. She was a woman who knew and got what she wanted. Fuck whatever her disgusting, cuckold husband had to say about it. 

Charlotte looked down at Dan and saw how red his eyes were, and how the couch under him had a soaked puddle. 

She exploded. “WHAT THE FUCK, YOU PATHETIC LITTLE PEICE OF SHIT? DID YOU FUCKING PISS YOURSELF LIKE SOME FUCKING LITTLE BRAT? YOU PISSED YOURSELF AND ITS ALL OVER YOUR USELESS, UGLY LITTLE STUPID IMPOTENT DICKLET, UGH AND YOUR BALLS AND MOST IMPORTANTLY MY FUCKING COUCH? YOU’D BETTER CLEAN THAT UP!” 

Dan squeaked and got up, running to the kitchen to get paper towels and spray. 

“Good,” she hissed, “like a good little dog,” she turned to their daughter, “So, how are you feeling now?” 

Just as her mom was honest, Phoebe was too. “I like what you’re doing. Dad’s always been... a little weird. But now I realize it wasn’t the kind of weird that, um... gets me wet. But what you do, like, like, the way you take control? I like that. I wanna be like you. And this talk of black guys?” Charlotte grinned. “You like thinking of that. Those massive, throbbing, lengthy, hot black dongs? You ever seen porn with black guys?” Phoebe quickly turned beet red. Charlotte smiled, “It’s good if you have. I’m so fucking jealous that you’re already exposed to porn at your age. I didn’t even have the chance to get online porn until I was almost 20! And there wasn’t anywhere near as much Blacked stuff then.” 

Phoebe worked up the nerve to nod ‘yes’ to her mother. 

Another smile. “I’m so proud of you!” she beamed, like momma like daughter, Phoebe had more than enough for the seed of a braindead snowbunny slut to grow in her underdeveloped white little body. She might not have been as busty or curvy as her mother, but Phoebe promised there and then to be twice the alpha girl slut. 

And poor little Dan, having cleaned up his mess, tried to stand up to speak to his wife, but was soon knocked down. “NO! Me and my black bulls own this house now, not you! If you wanted to be a man, you shouldn’t have been so weak, or whiny like a baby. You should’ve been able to make me cum! But now I’ve got better men for that. And speaking of...” She took out her phone, turned on apple TV, and showed off her photo gallery. 432 pictures and videos were taken last night. A cache of amateur pornography featuring one Charlotte Daugherty and 4 black studs. 

She started playing the videos. First was one with her kissing the camera sluttily, then walking back to pose with Purcell in a wide variety of ways. The next video showed her pointing out the bulge in his 

pants, then taking his shirt off to make out with him and lick his hot black abs. He flexed a bit for the camera before going to the next vid. He took it out in that one, and Charlotte’s whole family got to see how it was as long as her arm. 

In the room, while a video of the other three guys unsheathing their meats played behind her, Charlotte stripped her dress of. Her perfectly smooth pussy and her bouncing tits were great, and she didn’t wear underwear, of course. She sung ‘happy birthday to me’, as the TV had her giving Dan the middle finger. 

“Come on!” Said today’s Charlotte, “let’s get some fun group stuff going. Family porn night! Starring mommy!” She grinned evily as she sat down next to Phoebe. She encouraged her daughter to strip. Her pants already had a dark stain. 

Dan and Phoebe began masturbating across the room to the TV showing Charlotte lick all around the heads of all their cocks. The lady of the house ran off upstairs to get her dildo. When she came back, Phoebe was lounging back, butt naked, and confidently flicking her little bean to her mom gasping at the huge loads of cum that were now getting dumped on her face. Meanwhile Dan was hunched over pathetically. He tugged his little cock hard. It’s tininess, along with his boring hairstyle and skinny bday, made him look like a child compared to his daughter. And forget his wife. 

“Oo, look at him!” Laughed Charlotte, tapping Phoebe’s shoulder to get her to look over, “little losers trying to tug that tiny thing! Isn’t that fucking pathetic? Can’t you see why I need this?” she laughed, pulling the thick dildo out of her. Phoebe laughed too. 

“But mom, you take a bigger one in the vid,” she pointed at her screen with her free hand. 

“True- this toys just to tide me over. Better than hubby, you know?” She thrusted it into her gaping pussy a few more times. Her nasty juices flew across the room with a loud shlicking sound. Phoebe’s only trickled down her taint and onto her little pink pucker butthole. Charlotte took out the plastic cock and handed it to her daughter, “wanna go?” 

Phoebe shook her head, “I can’t take that.” 

Her mom smiled, “You’d better learn soon baby girl, if you wanna get blacked.” 

She stared at the size of the thing. “Never seen one up close but... it’s scary,” she chuckled, “I’d rather just watch.” 

“Then you’ll get tons of live shows.” 

“Mmmm. I’m already loving this. Just as good as the pro stuff I watch.” Phoebe was referring to Charlotte getting her ass pounded and her blonde hair painted white by those black hunks. 

“Thats cuz they’re black,” giggled Charlotte, “white guys in porn always wear fake dicks, that shoot fake cum and all that. Interracial’s real though. No faked orgasms there.” Charlotte put her leg up on the coffee table and aggressively rubbed her clit, “and I’ll never have to again.” 

They kept watching as Charlotte deepthroated every black cock. Every vid ended with them cumming their manly loads into her throat. They led her to the bedroom, with the camera on her swaying ass, where she had a train run on each and every hole. She was made airtight, first by their huge cocks and then by their thick cum. 

They just kept going. Dan usually got petered out after he came once after a few minutes, then rolled over and slept as Charlotte uncomfortably masturbated until she fell asleep. These guys seemed to have infinitely full balls . After they made the bed dirty with spilling loads, they tossed the tired white whore onto the floor, jacking off over her. They set the foundation for a full body coat of thick black cum. 

With a pathetic groan and three fingers wrapped around his dick, Dan started cumming. Instead of shooting anything out of his needle-like pink dick, it just dribbled onto the floor. 

“Ch-Charlotte,” he groaned. 

“Shut the fuck up! Your daughter and I are trying to masturbate to PURCELL’s friends running train on me. Purcell could cum like 9 times last night without a problem. Can your stupid balls only muster one fucking load? Try and at least be man enough to make another load!” She shut him up. 

Then there were the ones on her face. Tons of cum was unloaded onto her cheeks, in her eyes, on her cleavage and hair. It just kept going, until she was barely even fucking them any more, and just being jacked off too. Soon, every inch of skin above her knees hand some sort of man juice on it. Mostly her pussy, under her ass, her tits, and her unrecognizable face. She got to the point where their fat loads of cum landing on her weak white skin made her cum. Every single time. 

“See Phoebe? That’s what real men do. Not like your dad over there, cumming into his hand.” 

Phoebe looked over. Her dad was leaking out thin white juices onto his scrawny fingers. “How’d you even get pregnant?” She asked her mom. She paused. “Is he really my dad?” 

Charlotte looked away from her husband as he collapsed exhausted on the ruined couch. “Well, I’m shocked he managed to get me pregnant even once. But you’re his alright. I’d never cheat with another white boy. But hey. You got my beautiful eyes.” 

“I kinda wish guys like, unf, unf, that,” she pointed to the TV, “were my dad.” 

To clean off, they dragged Charlotte to the shower, where she could barely stand. Instead she pumped their cocks, worshiped their balls, and even rimmed their assholes. All their cum newly clogged the drain. After, they made her dry them off, and then lick up their cum off the floor. 

At around 2 AM according to when the video was taken, she passed out when she was halfway done, facefirst into a puddle of cum. 

Phoebe came. 

“Aaah!” She yelled, thrusting her hips over the armrest of the white cushioned couch. Her orgasm squirted all over dad’s men’s health magazines that he never read. “They really did that, mom?” 

She nodded. “It’s weird telling you, sweetie, but yeah. Mommy’s a fucking abuse slut for big black cock.” 

“It’s hotter than weirder. God, that was the best I’ve ever cum.” 

“Well, that’s black guys. And now” she kept swiping through her phone, showing them photos of the bulls taking advantage of Charlotte’s unconscious body on the tv. Weird things were stuffed in her asshole, and she was fucked in multiple uncomfortable positions like a rag doll. 

“Fuck,” Charlotte bit her lip, “I didn’t know they did- did- did... did that!” Her pussy exploded with a waterfall of orgasm, even wetting the TV screen a little. 

“There it is!” She sat back and sighed, “it’s like every time I cum to black guys it’s better.” 

A bit after, she saw Dan getting up. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” She asked, less angry now. 

“C-cleaning up my mess?” 

She laughed, “your widdle loads? Barley a mess. And don’t do it with clothes on. Strip.” 

“I-“ 

“Did I fucking stutter?” 

He frowned and stripped. He prided himself on looking youthful, but honestly he just looked pathetic. Thin, featureless white skin, and a fitting tiny, soft little penis, barely poking out of his crotch. 

She smiled as she walked over to pick up her bag, “good, baby. We’re not going to pretend you’re not pathetic and inferior anymore in this house, alright sweetie?” 

“Yes, dear,” he got on all fours to wipe up god cum. She ran her foot up and down his effeminate asscrack possesively. 

“And we won’t be bringing what you did to Phoebe to the authorities because you’re going to admit that you’re a pathetic little cuckold, and us ladies are gonna be enjoying all the black cock we want now.” 

“W-what?” 

“Yes babe. Did you think I was gonna stop cheating on you? After realizing what a freak you are, I can barely stomach you now. But I might forgive you if you let me fuck all the black guys I want, when I want, where I want, and how I want. Not for some reward, but out of the goodness of your heart. Sound good?” 

He looked down at his flaccid manhood. It was as wimpy as he was. He nodded in agreement to her terms. 

“Great! That makes me so happy Dan, you don’t even know!” She dishes through her bag and got a box out. The back was legal fine print and faced Dan, “can you say it?” She asked. 

“I- I’m a white cuckold... I’m small...” 

“And?” 

“And pathetic, and I barely cum and can’t make my wife cum.” 

“And?” 

“And I’m a perv who r-raped his own daughter because... because I’m a white loser who was so insecure,...” 

“But now...?” 

“N-now I’m happy to let you f-fuck,” he started tearing up, “all the black c-c- guys you want.” 

“Good boy. Did you enjoy your orgasm?” 

“Yeah,” sniffled her submissive hubby. 

“Good,” she turned the box around, “because it’s the last you’ll have in a while.” The box had a picture of plastic in the shape of a small penis, titled ‘THE LOCK HIM UP CHASTITY CAGE- size small.’ 

“W-what?” 

“What what? I said I’d forgive you, but you have to make it up for me. So like a good little white cuckold, you’re going to be locked away in this little chastity cage. I’ll keep the key, and you can only cum when I say so. Agreed?” 

He nodded. Totally impotent. 

“Good,” she took it out, read the instructions, and started to put it on. Phoebe came over to watch. She slipped the cock ring over his tiny worm, then putting the cage over it, screwing it on, and finally locking it all together with a little gold padlock. 

Both Phoebe and Charlotte laughed at his baby dick all locked away in his new cuckold cage. It was a clear plastic tinted pink, fitting for the little bitch it was on. It was a little heavy, and pulled down his crotch a little. 

“And this thing scared me?” Laughed Phoebe, flicking it and watching it wiggle and twitch. 

“To think I married that thing,” replied Charlotte. Dan was still speechless. 

“Let’s sample our new life, how about that?” 

“Sample?” Asked Phoebe and Dan in unison. 

“That’s right,” smiled Charlotte, showing them both her phone. On it were recent texts from contacts Darnel, Jamie, Kyan, and Purcell. “I invited the guys over. We’re having another gangbang here, in one hour.” 

[lankylevi]

Rating: E Relationships: Levi Ackerman & Eren Jaeger Tags: Kinktober 2019, Smut, Top Levi, Bottom Eren Yeager, Halloween Costumes, Werewolves.

Summary: Chapter 1: Overstimulation with Werewolf Levi: Top Levi & Bottom Eren.

Note: It’s officially the 15th here which means this is finally getting posted! Overstimulation is this month’s poll winner and this is also written for @ererismutprompts costume party prompt! (If you want early access to all my works and wanna vote on what I should write next, consider becoming my patreon for only $1! (Link in bio))

Read on AO3 or below

“I can’t believe I’m wearing this.”

“Your own idea backfired at you,” Jean snorted as Eren walked out of his room in a full sexy bunny costume. He didn’t even try to keep in his enjoyment and fell into a whole laughing fit while Eren tried to find a coat long enough so people wouldn’t think he was some type of hooker when they’d walk to the costume party.

Eren grumbled, “Since when are you even decent at Overwatch?” They had placed a bet, five games, the loser had to embarrass himself by wearing one of those slutty, pin up bunny costumes with huge ears to Hanji’s costume party on Friday. Meanwhile the other could just go as Batman.

“Since Armin taught me,” Jean said and Eren had to roll his eyes.

Armin, their mutual friend and the one who introduced them to Hanji, had been obviously flirting with Jean. And Jean cockily flirted back, but neither of them had the actual guts to make a move. “Just fucking date already.”

“Wha- me and Armin? You’re joking,” Jean feigned offense and Eren slapped him on his bicep.

“You better make a fucking move tonight or I’m telling.”

“So I take the attention away from your ass cheeks hanging out? Haha- Auw!”

Eren’s palm connected to the back of his roommate’s head as he glared at him. “Let’s just go and get this over with.”

At a quarter past eleven, they arrived at the party and Hanji eagerly opened the door to their apartment. Hanji was a chipper brunet, always acting like they were high on crack and tonight was no different.

“Welcome boys,” they slurred. The roommates already felt the vibrations of the music inside their chests and a wave of alcohol and weed hit them as Hanji leaned against the doorframe. “you’re smoking hot tonight.”

“Eren!” Armin wriggled his way through the dancing crowd, waving his hand enthusiastically, “Oh, and hi, Jean.” Of course, Armin would be dressed as Robin. As if they could be any more obvious.

Jean nodded and Eren waved back in response, shaking his head.

“Hanji, I think Levi needs your help.” Armin nudged their side with his elbow, “He’s about to make two girls cry.”

“Ugh, Leviiii.”

With that, Hanji disappeared back into the crowd and Armin showed them where they could hang their coats.

“Looks like Jean won, huh?” Armin said, trying to keep his snorts and giggles under control as Eren fumbled with the hem of his coat.

“‘S your fault. Look where your stupid crush got me.” Glaring, Eren finally got rid of the article of clothing after taking a long breath. No one would even bat an eye at him right now, he definitely wasn’t the only slutty something at this party. Fishnets also weren’t as comfortable as they looked and he was pretty sure half of the back of his costume had disappeared between his ass cheeks.

Armin chuckled, “Well, you look good. Maybe you’ll also... you know.”

“You can say “get laid” Ar,” Eren huffed, smirking when his best friend’s face got as red as a tomato. “What? You’re saying you’re not going on that horse cock tonight? Hahaha!”

“I swear to God, Eren,” Armin shushed him, “stop calling it a horse cock, I’m not a freak.”

Eren pressed his lips firmly together, trying to keep himself from bursting out laughing. “Right.” Armin wasn’t exactly the most vanilla person, he was in fact the reason why Eren had discovered some of his own kinks. Not together, no, no, they’d never. But Ar’s browsing history had revealed some of his own weird fetishes and that was how Eren actually found out there was this thing called ‘knotting’. Very sci-fi but hey, Armin couldn’t kinkshame him when he was into even weirder shit than he was.

All flustered, Armin dragged him through the dancing crowd till they found their usual group of friends. Mikasa was wearing a Marceline of Adventure Time costume while her girlfriend, Annie,  a Princess Bubblegum one; not looking entirely happy about it. It was cute though, cuter than the Batman and Robin Jean and Armin were trying to pull off while still convincing everyone there was nothing going on between them. Did they really think they were all blind?

Mikasa nodded at where Jean and Armin stood and Eren turned his head to see Horseface filling up Ar’s cup. Idiots, he thought before Annie couldn’t suppress the urge to comment on his outfit any longer. “Isn’t it a little too early for Easter?”

“That pink really evens out your bitterness, Annie.”

“Oeh-oh! What a burn.”

“Okay, easy you two,” Mikasa interrupted them for the millionth time. “Eren, go socialize with my cousin, he also lost a bet.”

Eren followed her stare and his eyes landed on a shirtless raven, angrily sipping on his cup. “Don’t mind if I do.” Did he seriously say that out loud?

“Gross,” Annie scrunched up her nose and Mikasa shook her head.

“Please don’t get it on with my cousin, Eren.”

“Why? Is he gay?” Eren looked at her expectantly with a wicked grin. Not caring to wait for her answer, he straightened his back and made sure to sway his hips a little as he strolled towards the shirtless man. Luckily his heels weren’t too high or he would’ve probably made a fool out of himself already. Please be gay, please be gay, please be gay.

“Oh, yes, he’s definitely not straight,” he mumbled to himself as he saw the raven’s eyes raking over his body while smirking with a raised brow. This meant he could go for his usual strategy; teasing, teasing and some more teasing.

Instead of walking straight at him, he went for a detour and grabbed himself some punch, making sure to stick out his butt as he filled his red cup with the green, witchy liquid. He looked over his shoulder, sending the raven a flirty grin before he turned on his heels and leaned against the nearest wall. He took small gulps of his drink, which actually wasn’t bad at all, kudos to Hanji taking extra bartending classes.

The raven still hadn’t moved from his spot, so Eren went to phase two. He side-eyed Mikasa’s cousin and while their eyes locked he seductively bit his lip as he ran a hand through his chocolate brown locks. Fucking finally. The raven walked towards him and while Eren was surprised by his short stature, he sure didn’t mind the perfect set of abs and scowl on his face. Emotional unavailability, count him in.

“So, what are you supposed to be?” Eren said while lowering his cup, not hiding the fact that he was eyeing him up and down like a piece of meat.

Rolling his eyes, the raven pointed at Hanji who was currently doing the limbo. “A werewolf, Hanji’s fault.”

“Where are your tail and ears then…?”

“Levi,” and he shook his head, “I left them at home. Plus, I’m supposed to be Jacob from that Twilight bullshit.”

“Ah, quality literature,” Eren nodded, chuckling under his breath before he took another sip of his drink. “All he did was walk around shirtless anyway and you’re certainly pulling it off.”

Levi scoffed and raised one of his brows, “I would almost think you’re hitting on me…?”

“Eren,” he smiled, “and so what if I am?”

“I’m not complaining,” Levi said and he took the brunet’s drink out of his hand, the brief skin to skin contact making the tips of Eren’s ears burn, and downed it in one go. “So, Eren.”

Clearing his throat, Eren tried to keep his composure as Levi sent him a toothy grin, he was gonna eat him alive wasn’t he? “Hmm?”

“I happen to like bunnies, so how about we go to my place?” The raven said and stretched an arm to touch Eren’s waist, gently digging his fingers into the soft skin. “Only to see my tail and ears of course.”

Gulping, Eren’s mouth went dry and he enthusiastically nodded his head as he felt the heat spread through his body and straight to his crotch. Embarrassing.

Within a matter of minutes, he found himself in the passenger seat of Levi’s car and the raven fastened his seat belt for him, whispering in his ear to behave if he wanted him to be nice. In all honesty, the thought of Levi fucking him roughly stirred him up more, making his cock strain against the confinements of his costume.

“Now be a good little bunny and sit still,” Levi smirked as he hovered over him before dipping down and hungrily clashing their lips together. Pants and moans spilled from the boy’s lips and he rutted his hips against Levi’s hand palming his cock. Eren whined in protest when the raven quickly pulled away before he slid in the driver’s seat. “Better not distract me while driving if you want to come tonight.”

Eren was almost certain he heard Levi purr when he wrung his hands together to keep them occupied and a shot of arousal slid up his spine. He really was gonna have him for dinner and nothing excited the brunet more.

With his legs wrapped around Levi’s waist, Eren didn’t pay any attention to where he actually was when he was slammed against the nearest wall. Levi’s tongue swiped roughly over Eren’s bottom lip and the raven ravished his mouth as he clawed at his clothes.

A surprised gasp spilled past the boy’s lips when Levi ripped his clothes with his nails and left a trail of shreds behind them as he was being carried down the hall to what he presumed was Levi’s bedroom. He was thrown on the bed and within seconds Levi hovered over him and pinned his hands above his head. “Little rabbit fell into my trap.”

Eren never thought he’d be into dirty talk, let alone roleplay, but with the pure animalistic lust Levi was treating him, he couldn’t help but get even more turned on. “Aren’t you going to be nice to me?” Eren bit his lip and Levi’s eyes went from soft grey to vibrant silver at his words.

“Not in the slightest,” Levi sent Eren another toothy grin and a wave of arousal coursed through Eren’s body at the sight. “You have a thing for my teeth?”

Pressing his lips firmly together and keeping himself from making embarrassing noises as he saw Levi swiping his tongue over the sharp edge of his canine, Eren nodded his head and shuddered under his hold.

“You won’t be able to keep quiet once I start having my fun with you, little rabbit,” Levi purred in his ear, rutting his hips so the fabric of his jeans slid roughly over Eren’s pink cock. Leaning down, he bit and sucked on one of Eren’s pierced nipples, rolling the bud between his teeth until the brunet was gasping and thrusting his hips up. “Sensitive? How cute.”

With every action and word Levi gave him, Eren felt his mouth go dryer and dryer and his cock grow impossibly harder. Pearly fluid leaked freely on his stomach, leaving a slick mess all over his chest as Levi hooked his hands under the back of Eren’s knees and pushed forward.

High pitched whimpers and moans spilled past Eren’s lips every time Levi darted out his tongue to lap over his sensitive hole. “L-Levi…” His voice came out shaking and broken as the raven wriggled his tongue past the tight ring of muscle and started thrusting it ever so slowly. Eren wasn’t going to last long.

As Levi bit into the round globe of Eren’s ass, the boy yelped and quickly succumbed under his touch as Levi slid one finger in slowly. He hummed at the tight heat with a smirk before planting another bitemark on the tanned skin. He added his tongue to the mess, alternating between pushing it deep into his ass as he hooked two fingers to spread his hole, and biting down onto his cheeks, close to breaking the skin.

With an angled thrust of Levi’s fingers, Eren tensed and cried out as thick ropes of come streaked over his red collarbones. His chest heaved, cock twitching as Levi milked his prostate dry and kept going until it left the boy completely shaking and blabbering, “L-Levi, I- I already came.”

“I know,” Levi said flatly, lapping over his hole again and angling his fingers, abusing the sensitive bundle of nerves inside Eren’s body until he started begging for him to stop. “Stop? I’m not even nearly done with you.”

Eren’s eyes blew wide at the words, cock growing hard again under the rough treatment of Levi’s tongue swiping over the seam of his balls and dipping into the slit. “I… can’t.”

“You’re a brave little human, you can take it,” Levi smirked as he shoved his nose into the neatly trimmed hairs at the base of Eren’s dick, taking in a deep breath. The action left Eren lost for words as the raven continued and unbuttoned his jeans to let his cock spring free.

It was nothing like Eren had ever seen in real life; Levi’s cock was slightly ribbed, thicker at the base and his cockhead had a pinkishly red sheen to it, just like the dildos he had seen on pornhub and both excitement and fear took over his body. He swallowed thickly, not knowing exactly what to say or do as the raven crawled closer and leaned down to leave a sloppy kiss just below his ear, “Never seen a real werewolf? Adorable.”

Eren’s world flipped upside down as he was pushed down onto his stomach, ass sticking up in the air. He immediately moaned at being so deliciously manhandled, previous worries left forgotten as Levi spread his cheeks and poured a decent amount of lube onto the crevice of his ass. He didn’t care at this point, he wanted to get fucked by Levi and his werewolf dick. Would he also have a knot?

With a slap on his ass, Eren yelped and looked back over his shoulder, blush turning crimson as Levi spanked him again. He was really hitting all of his kinks tonight and he didn’t even realize it.

“Stop thinking, brat,” Levi said as his palm connected to Eren’s ass cheek again, leaving a stinging burn in its wake before he slid three lubed up fingers inside the brunet. “I can smell you’re distracted, come back to me. All of you.”

Eren moaned loudly into the pillow as Levi grabbed his hips and buried his entire length inside of him in one smooth motion. The brunet felt every ridge and bump stroking across his walls with bruising force, clamping down on the thick cock. He got a well deserved minute to get used to his length and girth before the werewolf increased his pace slowly.

He felt everything, the claws digging into his hips, Levi’s cock moving in and out of his willing hole, his hot breath against his spine and his own cock roughly rubbing over the covers. Everything was too much and yet he wanted, craved more of Levi. An insatiable hunger he had never experienced before overrode all logical thought and he rocked his hips backward against Levi’s.

The sound of skin slapping on skin filled the room as Levi started moving with bruising force, letting the animal inside of him take over as the little human beneath him moved and moaned so willingly. “Uncover your mouth, let me hear your pretty noises, my brave rabbit.”

Eren titled his head slightly to the side, letting the werewolf’s ears pick up on the soft pants and moans he made as he buried himself deep inside his ass.

“Prepare yourself, boy.” Levi snarled, angling his hips to slam precisely against his prostate, turning Eren into a drooling, blabbering mess as the werewolf fucked him roughly.

Eren whined in overstimulation as his prostate was abused to the point his entire body trembled and tears rolled down his cheeks, feeling too good for words. He gasped at the sensation of Levi’s cock growing bigger, stretching his hole wider with each thrust.

With a deep rumble inside his chest, Levi launched forward and bit down on Eren’s nape, drawing blood, as he slammed his cock deep inside Eren. Knot growing to its full size, stretching the human impossibly wide, he came in the boy’s ass, painting his insides with thick ropes of his come.

He felt beyond full, cum and knot filling him up to the brim and when Levi’s teeth sank into his flesh, his second release crashed over him. He came untouched, cock twitching and spurting his come on his stomach and the covers. A sleepy smile spread across his face when Levi held his hips up as his body lost its final strength.

Completely satisfied, Levi planted a kiss on the back of Eren’s neck, whispering sweet praises in his ear as sleep washed over the little human. “My sweet Eren.”

It was dawn when Eren awoke, the sun peeking through the curtains. He was tucked in bed, clean, and with a pair of pajama pants on. The smell of tea and something sweet filling up his nostrils.

It took him a moment to recollect his thoughts, the vivid images of last night flashing before his eyes. As he stood, the heavy pain in his hips along with the purple bruises and red marks all over his body served as another reminder that all of it had been indeed, very real.

With a droopy grin, he got up from the bed and shuffled towards the source of the sweet, hearty smell, finding Levi sitting on one of the chairs in nothing but sweatpants and two sets of pancakes in front of him. Had he cooked breakfast?

Levi’s eyes shot up once Eren peaked his head past the doorframe and he instantly jumped up and wrapped his arms around the brunet’s waist. He held him gently, a purr rumbling in his chest as he nuzzled his nose in his human’s neck. “Morning.”

Overwhelmed by the sudden affection, Eren stammered, “Morning.” Levi was so gentle with him, a complete 180 compared to last night, but it honestly felt right? As if their bodies remembered each other from before and were finally reunited. Eren laughed under his breath, how silly of him.

[lundiivith]

(i can say i) did it all with love

more reposting stuff i posted months ago to ao3 on tumblr because... unfortunate situations. anyways

here’s a 7.5k words miraak oneshot backstory fic ft vahlok the jailor. read it on ao3 or under the cut!

warning for, uhm... mild/not-very-explicit gore, couple deaths (esp. of family members), eye trauma, fire, a cult, the works. one implication of boarding school-style child ab/use. yeah. not a happy fic

mid-aar; “loyal servant”.

The man held his midsection as tightly as humanly possible. Forced onto his knees by all-too-mortal injury, proud Miraak looked up, defiant in the face of destiny. In that momentf, Midaar was struck by familiarity; but to what, exactly, he didn’t know.

The wind howled as the sun rose. Or fell. Midaar wasn’t sure.

The snow under Miraak was red, as were his clothes. Liquids leaked from his wounds, not all of them blood -- like an ugly, pale acid that left burn-marks on his fingers. The man himself was shaking in agony, and yet, he still raised his shoulders and tried to move. He made a noise and persevered. He’d see this to the bitter end, Midaar knew. It was what his friend always did.

...He was a traitor. He was his friend no more.

(When had he stopped being the man Midaar had known all his life? When had Miraak stopped being the person Midaar had befriended; when had he instead been captured by greed, by an otherworldly spirit’s smoky promises? Had Midaar taken his eyes off him for too long, for just a moment--?)

“You know I expected better of you, Miraak.” Midaar’s voice was icy.

Miraak laughed, a gross wet chortle. “Of course you did.” He tried to laugh as he started coughing, and then he kept coughing. Miraak crawled further, maybe an inch. His free hand held onto the ground, carving the snow as he went; droplets of hot acid smoked as they hit snow. He raised his mask just a little bit and uncovered his mouth; Miraak then stared defiantly upwards, into the slits of Midaar’s mask, and retched blood onto his feet.

Midaar waited for him to finish. Once he did, he knelt and with almost no resistance grabbed the back of Miraak’s head, and he smashed it into the ground once, twice, three times, careful not to let his body shake. Midaar then kept Miraak’s face pressed against the ground, teeth against the cold, and spoke.

“Looking back, it’s obvious. You were always too independent. Too bright, too clever for your own good. You were naïve, Miraak, to think you could best the dragons.”

Miraak grunted something against the snow. He was shivering, burning. Crashing.

“What was that?”

The traitor twisted his head, freeing his lips. “I bested twenty.”

Midaar froze for a moment, horrified, iracund, disgusted, and then replied, “And look where you are now. Dead by the hands of a man.” His chest felt empty. “A man who used to be your friend, Miraak,” he whispered (was he pleading?). “Why did you do this?”

Miraak’s breaths were more and more shallow. He didn’t look at Midaar. “Does it matter?”

“Not to our lords, no.” But you can tell me anyways.

“Then I’ll take it to the grave.” Miraak smiled, wicked and bitter and angry and small. Bloody vomit trailed from his mouth, tears (of pain?) stained by ice and mud. “But I can tell you one name,” he then added. “Kᴀʜᴠᴏᴢᴇɪɴ.”

“...Who?” Midaar blinked, taken aback.

Miraak grinned wider. “Ask the dragons.”

And then Miraak Shouted,

F̬U͍̞̬̰͉̞͖S̜̻ ͙̩̣̱͉̱RO͍ D̪̗̩A͔̙̳̗͍̭̠Ḫ̬̹͈ͅ!̠̺̭͍

The world, for lack of a better world, shook.

A void of ink appeared around Miraak; Midaar only realized he’d fallen once the ringing in his ears began. He could feel a trail of -- blood? -- from his ear. He watched as the ink swallowed Miraak. He thrashed, surprised, and Midaar saw it all, saw him disappear, ( “MIRAAK!” ), saw him gone. He threw out his hand, and Miraak struggled to catch it and failed, his eyes suddenly huge and dark and dark and dark and Midaar’s ears kept ringing --

-- and as Midaar watched, the continent broke.

The wave, the huge dark wave of sea-salt and foam was the last thing the dragon priest saw that day.

The boy waiting on the stairs was pretty excited about joining the ranks of the Dragon Priests, all things considered.

He glanced back at the big door and then decided to wait for the Priest who’d welcomed him to come back. The boy didn’t know how old the ma was, but he was a grown-up and he was a Priest and he’d said his name was Vo-something maybe and that he should wait outside until he came back and the boy’s new name was called and then the door had closed and dawn was coming and he’d been waiting for hours, now, and his legs were getting kind of tired.

He watched the people around Labyrinthian. There were also a few dragons, but the boy didn’t find himself caring about them too much. Oh, sure, they were huge and good and stuff, and they sure seemed to be watching over the people wisely and stuff, but the novelty had worn out hours ago and the boy liked people, anyways. Simple dumb people. He found them funny, and fascinating, going around places doing everyday stuff. There was a Dragon Priest talking to a few workers. One of them was a nervous woman who kept shuffling from one foot to the other. The Dragon priest then said something to the nervous worker, and she jumped in place and stared wide-eyed at the maybe Dragon Priest and then began glowing, like straight-up glowing and smiled real wide and gave the priest a short bow and left really fast. The boy smiled. The priest then talked to the other two a bit more, and the boy looked away.

He kept watching as the sun rose, light bouncing off the snow, and he was definitely not scared when a big dragon walked close enough to the entrance to make the entire stone platform shake with his weight. He remembered something his father had told him once, about big things and dragons maybe, and then he remembered that he wouldn’t see his father for a really long time and he felt a little sad. He didn’t know why, though, because being a Dragon Priest was the best thing you could aspire to be, and you got to talk directly to the dragons and change things about Skyrim if they listened to you, and it was much better than the farm and he wouldn’t have to share everything with five siblings.

His thought process was interrupted when he saw a small child by themself.

“Hi,” he told the younger kid. They were maybe four, so definitely younger than the boy, who was eight and three months and five days. “What’s your name? I’m, uh,” and then he stopped because he realized he’d abandoned his old name and he didn’t have a new one yet.

The kid turned around. Their eyes widened for a second when they found him, but they shook their head and stood up straighter. “Hel-lo,” they said, very serious. Little kids usually were annoying, the boy thought, but maybe this one wouldn’t be as bad.

“What’s your name?” he asked, curious.

“...don’t have one.” They seemed… embarrassed. “Had an old one. It was dumb.”

“Are you here to be a priest?”

“...yeah.”

“Me too.” The boy thought for a moment. “Maybe we’ll get matching names. Since we were in-duc-ted on the same day.”

The kid’s eyes filled with tears, suddenly. “No!” they yelled. The boy leaned backwards, a little surprised. They stomped and then started flailing their arms, angry. They yelled for a bit, before shouting out, “I don’t wanna share my name!!”

“Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up!!” The boy covered his ears as the kid started wailing. He groaned. Nevermind on them not being annoying! He hated little kids sometimes.

He remembered his baby brother Eluf’s screaming when he wasn’t allowed to pet the chickens. Then the boy remembered he wouldn’t see Eluf for a while and felt… sad. He froze for a moment and didn’t realize he’d dropped his hands until the kid had tugged on one of them.

“Why are you sad?” the kid asked, blunt.

“...it’s nothing.” He raised his shoulders, defensive, but the kid just tugged on his arm again. And then again. The boy huffed. “...I miss my little brother.”

“Oh.” The kid thought for a moment. “Was he nice?”

“He was. He liked to hug everyone. Even the chickens, but he scared them, because he hugged them too tight, and he didn’t know he was scaring them.” There was a ton of other stuff to say about Eluf, but the boy right now could only remember his little brother skinning his knee on the dirt path to the coops while chasing a very shy hen, crying like little waterfalls from his eyes.

The kid stared at him for a moment. “How did he not know?”

“He was a little kid. He didn’t know better.”

The kid then started thinking. And they thought loudly, humming out-loud. “Can grown-ups don’t know, too?”

“I don’t know. I guess?”

“Oh.” They paused. “Thank-you.”

“...It’s no problem.”

A little bit afterwards, the doors opened -- and their new lives began.

Midaar awoke slowly, unsure.

The first thing he saw was a high stone ceiling. The second thing Midaar saw after Miraak’s death was a healer.

(Miraak’s death. Miraak’s death. Miraak was gone.)

He blinked slowly, trying to make sense of the blurry shape by his side.

“Sleep, my lord,” they whispered. They touched his forehead for a moment (was he running a fever? He didn’t feel hot) and then, seemingly content, tucked Midaar further into bed.

“What day is it?”

“It’s been three days since your duel with… him,” the healer looked behind themself, alert, then slowly returned their gaze to him. “You were lost for a day. A wave dragged you onto the beach on the second day, my lord Jailor. You were unconscious and had a fever, in addition to multiple bruises and graver wounds.”

“Solstheim. The land…”

“It broke,” the healer interrupted him. “Solstheim is… an island, now. It drifted northeast from the mainland, my lord.”

“...I see.” A blurry thought made its way through Midaar’s mind. “...Why are you calling me your lord?”

“You’ve been made governor of the island for the time being, my lord.” The phrase had been blunt, simple. A punch to the gut. Midaar’s chest went hollow.

“Oh.”

He turned around and fell back asleep.

Years earlier, one late afternoon, Midaar found him staring off into the distance.

His friend looked thoughtful. He hadn’t even noticed him; Midaar had an opening. Nice. He looked at him for a moment, hesitated perhaps? -- and then punched his shoulder hard enough to bruise.

“FUCK!,” was his victim’s first last words, followed by “OW! What is WRONG with you, Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ?!”

“Payback, you twerp.” Midaar ruffled his hair and grinned at his scowl. “What are you thinking about, Miraak?”

Miraak huffed, rubbing his wounded shoulder. “...Many things,” he said.

“You can tell me.” Midaar sat down on the cold ground and patted the snow right beside him. He raised a quizzical eyebrow towards Miraak from behind his brand-new mask. Miraak sighed and sat down. He stared away from Midaar, silent, head tilted like the few birds that came to Solstheim in the summer.

“Come on, Miraak. I’m not gonna become a snitch just because I’m a priest now.”

“...it’s not like I think you’ll tell on me,” Miraak began, doubtful. “And it’s not like it’s a bad thing.”

Miraak was silent for a moment.

“One day, I will rule this land.”

“Huh?”

“When I finish my training, I will be part of the High Council of Dragon Priests.”

Miraak always had replaced his want-to’s with will’s. “You’re confident in this, then.” At Miraak’s unimpressed glance, Midaar rolled his eyes. “That’s good, Miraak. You’d be a great councilor.”

“You say that because I’m your friend,” Miraak noted dryly. “But it’s no problem. You will be a councilor, too.”

“What?”

“You’re a great leader, Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ, and you excel at worshipping our ᴊᴜɴ. You might even be heard by them, one day.” Was it just him, or were there hints of bitterness in his voice? Of anger? Did he think he wasn’t worthy of being heard by the dragons one day, when he’d already surpassed Midaar in all his studies of the thu’um? No.

“Miraak. Listen to me.” Midaar grabbed him by the shoulders and physically turned Miraak around, and Miraak yelped. Midaar pointed at Miraak’s chest. “You,” he told him, “will be heard by the dragons more Loudly than I ever will, and this is a promise.”

Miraak’s eyes widened as he heard Midaar’s words, but then his face fell. He looked away from Midaar, clearly angry. He glanced once more towards Midaar and then his face softened, maybe in acceptance. Midaar let go of him.

“Thank you,” Miraak said. His voice was empty, his words a mere courtesy. Had he said something wrong?

“You’re welcome,” Midaar replied, and he looked back towards the sunset.

They both stayed like that for a moment, watching the sun go down at the end of a day that had started fast and lasted long, and Midaar thought not of ink-black or mold-green but of red, red, red, like the blood that ran along his veins, if not Miraak’s too.

The dusk was cloudless. No storm came that night, nor the next, nor storm for years to come. But one day it would come, and it would water some interesting seeds.

The next morning after he woke up, when Midaar was well enough to stand, the dragons came.

The Priest was called outside early. He was still recovering from the fight, sleeping far too much and being only woken up for things of extreme importance -- such as this. He’d gone outside in the snow barefoot but masked, wearing the pants and loose shirt he’d slept in and a fur cloak, jaw dropped to the floor at the dov that perched on the roof and ground before him.

Midaar recognised most of them. There were many dragons he’d either seen around or had spoken to a few times; Sahrotaar, Krosulhah, Relonikiv, Kruziikrel. Most surprisingly of all, however, was that they were led by the dragon Paarthurnax, the Dovah-jun Alduin’s lieutenant, who Midaar had only seen once in brief passing. He started… he didn’t know if he was shivering from cold or shaking from awe, but it was likely both. The sky was a light blue, and Paarthurnax, perched on top of the temple, was staring at him.

“Mɪʀᴀᴀᴋ Dɪʟᴏɴ,” the gray dragon began. Miraak is dead. It wasn’t a question.

“He has… disappeared. It is likely he is dead,” Midaar explained.

“That is enough. As long as you are ready to kill him again, if he comes back.” Paarthurnax stood perfectly still, his head tilted just slightly to the side, and Midaar realised.

He nodded slowly, thoughtful. “Yes, my lord.”

“But Solstheim is an island, now,” Paarthurnax continued. “And it is too small for ᴅᴏᴠ to reside comfortably in. Nᴜ ᴍᴜ ꜰᴇɴ sᴘᴀᴀɴ ɴɪɪ.” Yet we have to protect it. “So we have decided that that shall be your reward for slaying Mɪʀᴀᴀᴋ.”

Midaar went still under the morning sunlight and broke eye contact, just for a second, to nervously glance away. He looked back at Alduin’s lieutenant. “What shall?”

“You will ʀᴇʟ over Solstheim,” Paarthurnax told him. Reign. “You will ward ꜰɪɴ Lᴇɪɴ from his influence.” The world. “And you will also wield a new name, a new title; one befitting your new position.”

“I am profoundly honored, my lord.” He was. (He wasn’t).

“From now on,” Paarthurnax continued, perched above the Solstheim temple, his face tired and cold and hard, “you will be known as Vᴀʜʟᴏᴋ, and you will guard the island of Solstheim.”

Midaar… Vahlok fell to one knee. “I am so profoundly honored,” he begun, and then he started coughing.

Saltwater and blood fell from his mouth as the dragons watched, impassively, and he felt somehow so incredibly desperate to escape this coughing fit he started worrying this was the proverbial straw and the world’s back was about to be broken. He closed his eyes, hoping against everything the dragons would not see this as weakness.

When he was finally able to open his eyes, he saw the consequences of his actions; disgusted, definitely, all of the dov gathered had flown away, their wings like thunder on the too-far blue horizon. All of the dov but one.

Paarthurnax stood, an undeniable shape the color of envy, before Vahlok.

Vahlok looked up, worshipful but hesitant. “My lord Paarthurnax,” he began. He paused for a moment, to think. Should he heed his last words? He was a traitor, of course, but he was Midaar’s friend. He was clever, and inquisitive, and hungry for knowledge in a way Vahlok had never seen anywhere besides him -- and was yet strangely familiar. He was… He’d been. His friend was dead, he reminded himself, whether or not his heart kept beating. And that helped rationalize his actions, at the moment and perhaps later, because he was honoring his dead friend’s memory, and that was something no one could take away from the mortal.

“...Yes,” Paarthurnax said, clearly confused about the long pause after Vahlok’s words.

“My lord Paarthurnax, I… I wish to ask for something.”

“Have we not given you enough?” Paarthurnax huffed through his nose, clearly annoyed, but his sentence had no bite. Vahlok decided not to question his luck.

“Of course you have, my lord. I just wished to know of a dragon. To… congratulate him, or at least speak to him.” Before Paarthurnax’s watchful eyes, Vahlok shrunk a bit. “Miraak mentioned him with hatred,” Vahlok added, and Paarthurnax snapped to attention.

“Vᴏᴛʜ ɴɪ…?” Paarthurnax stopped there. Midaar waited, to see if he’d continue, and then spoke.

“Yes, my lord. And -- and I just wished to perhaps see him. To see what role he might have played, perhaps… to warn other priests not to fall into the same traps as Miraak did.” He was only half lying; as he spoke, those became his intentions, his ambitions, and while he didn’t forget Miraak’s words, he wanted with all his heart to believe he didn’t care about them.

“...Wᴏ?”

“The dragon Kahvozein, my lord.”

The frills and spikes that dotted Paarthurnax’s face and ran along his spine bristled for a moment. “...Kᴀʜᴠᴏᴢᴇɪɴ,” he stated, thoughtful. “I… have not seen him in a long time.” He shook his head, and the shaking went as a shiver down his back and to the tip of his tail. Paarthurnax then lowered his head, staring right into Vahlok’s eye. “You cannot see him.”

Vahlok took a step back, then another. “My lord,” he said, simply.

“If he has…” Paarthurnax began, and then sighed.  “Rᴏ ʟᴀᴀɴ Aʟᴅᴜɪɴ ᴡᴀʜ ᴏꜰᴀɴ ʜɪ ᴀᴀᴢ, ᴀʜʀᴋ ʜɪ ʀᴏ ɴɪ ʟᴀᴀɴ ᴅᴀᴀʀ. Jᴏᴏʀ sᴀʜʟᴏ -- ꜰᴏᴅ-ᴅʀᴇʜ ɴɪ ʟᴀᴀɴ ᴍᴜ...*"

Vahlok looked at the dragon. Slowly, the realization sunk in that he would not be allowed to find answers, that his request would be forever denied. That he would not be able to prevent his greatest failure. That he would not be able to mourn his brother. His face felt foreign all of a sudden, his bones distancing themselves from his nerves. A perfect poker face crept onto his features. Midaar looked away for a moment, then looked back into the dragon’s eyes, hardened by resolve.

“Of course, my lord,” he found his lips saying, independant. “Forget I ever asked.”

Paarthurnax paused for a moment, then looked at Midaar, his face tired and cold and hard, and nodded once before leaving -- with the beat of his wings like a punch to the gut.

Midaar turned around, and remembered, offhandedly, that the healer had told him the next ship towards the mainland would be lifting its anchors tonight. He wondered… he’d been masked for so long. Had the metal blinded his mind, or had it only changed his face?

“On three,” Miraak told him, dead serious. Midaar stared at him in sheer disbelief, but breathed in deeply and prepared for Miraak’s ridiculous request. “One, two…”

“You two, stop immediately.”

Midaar froze.

He slowly, slowly turned his head around, never letting go of Miraak’s shirt’s collar. He lowered his fist, and missed Miraak stealing a glance at how it shook.

At the door’s frame stood the priest Geinmaar, his mask a cruel caricature of a grimace. His shoulders were tense, and his hands were balled up into tight-knuckled fists. Midaar flinched.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing, sir,” he said, at the same time as Miraak replied, “Training, sir.”

“Training?” Geinmaar asked, dryly. He didn’t wait for an answer before oh-so-slowly walking over to the two. Midaar’s hands shook. “What kind of training begins half past midnight?”

“Urgent training, sir,” and Midaar looked at Miraak, eyes wide. What a bold-faced lie.

“I don’t believe you, Miraak.” Geinmaar crossed his arms behind his back and leaned over him. Midaar tried to hold his breath, but it went by far too fast.

“See, sir, Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ had slacked earlier today.” Midaar gaped openly at Miraak. The little-- “And I graciously offered to help him. However, he didn’t relate the information until just recently, and we’ll be tested on our hand-to-hand combat abilities soon, so it was urgent.”

“I see.” A wicked gleam shone through the older man’s eye. “But,” he added, “if that is the case -- then why are you offering no resistance?”

“Uh,” Miraak stuttered, his brain visibly trailing off. Midaar glared at him.

“Sir, if I may,” Midaar told Geinmaar, voice trembling as he went, “Miraak had told me he was afraid of being unable to stay conscious after being punched. To the extent of nightmares, sir.”

“...Really,” Geinmaar said. His voice was distorted by his mask’s metallic shape, echoing oddly into something far more threatening than a mere human voice. Midaar hated it.

“Really, sir,” Miraak answered, smoothly continuing his performance.

“...Well. If that is all.” The priest tilted his chin up, disdainful. “But if another noise complaint comes my way, you’ll both be in very serious trouble.”

The dragon priest then turned around and left the room.

Midaar sighed with relief. “By the Lord Alduin,” he whispered, “that was close.” And he shook his head. “Why are you even asking me to punch you?”

“To prove a point to you, obviously, since you don’t trust any pain I may inflict on myself anymore.” Miraak sighed. “Just do it.”

The resounding punch echoed on the stone walls. Midaar made a noise, head flooding with possibilities -- would Geinmaar come back? Would he hit them? Shit.

“Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ,” he heard, and then a single hard shake of the shoulders. He focused. Before him was Miraak, still held by the neck of his shirt, nose bleeding from the hit -- and before Midaar’s very eyes, the blood stopped flowing barely seconds after beginning to gush.

“...Oh,” Midaar said.

Miraak wiped his face. “As I was telling you,” he continued, and then he paused to pull away from Midaar’s grasp. “As I was telling you,” he repeated, “I’m stronger, and heal faster…”

Vahlok’s footsteps on the echoing chamber were nearly silent. The high stone ceilings, fit for a dragon, held for him the same meaning as a night devoid of stars. He hurried up. The cold air felt strange on his face; it had been far too long since he’d been maskless outside of his own chambers.

When he finally finished crossing the grandiose hallway, the last one in a series of tunnels best left unremarked upon, he found himself before an arch. A curtain was draped over said archway, a thick piece of purple cloth Vahlok quickly pushed away. On the other side -- and he remained on this side of the archway, only looking -- on the other side was a room Vahlok had never seen before. Decorated with more of these thick purple curtains -- all hanging from the ceiling, tall as the mountains -- and entirely lit by candlefire -- including a few dangerously close to the cloth --, a stage stood in the middle of a room, and on it a slab of rock like a table. One side of the room had another platform, higher than the one in the middle, and he couldn’t help but note it seemed the right size for a dragon to lay upon.

He was wondering whether to continue or to stay where he was when, suddenly, a few of the curtains were pulled aside. Chatter filled his ears. Dozens of men and women, all in robes and hoods, made their way around the stage. Their footsteps echoed against the stone floor. Vahlok stood still, as silent as he could, and closed the curtain nearly all the way. Only a sliver of an opening remained, mostly so he could see. He held his breath.

A thunderous noise. Vahlok froze in place, unable to move even if he’d wanted to, before the very sight: a gigantic purple dragon, with wings spotted white, had appeared from behind one of the curtains. The dragon settled on top of the taller platform and languidly raised his head. Soon, a hooded mortal scurried across the multitude, holding in their wobbly arms a shaky bronze tray full of what looked like enormous chops of raw meat. They climbed onto the smaller, central platform and placed it upon the larger platform, then bowed deeply and stood in place, shaking. The dragon inspected the tray with one compound eye. The mortal shivered. The dragon then, simple as the act of breathing, stretched forwards just enough to bite onto the mortal, grabbing their body tightly with his teeth, before launching them upwards -- and as gravity forced the body onto a downwards momentum, the dragon opened his maw to rip the body messily in half. Blood rained across the people around them. Vahlok watched, silent, as they cheered the dragon on, screaming in joy as their robes were covered by blood.

After the screaming lulled to an end, one of the curtains was pulled. A dragon priest appeared from behind it, followed by three people. Vahlok didn’t recognize her, at least not at a distance. Out of three people behind her, two were wearing armor and hoods, and were dragging the third across the floor in chains. The multitude parted like an impossible sea as the woman walked up the steps to the central stage, followed by the two ...guards? and their prisoner, the only one not wearing a hood. His head bumped on the steps. Vahlok could gleam from his position that he was a man with longish auburn hair, his face streaked with warpaint, but not much else. The man was led to the stage and then thrown on the table in the middle. He fell unconscious. The Dragon Priest dismissed the guards with a gesture, and they hurried down into the multitude as she began circling the chained prisoner.

There was a gleam of metal. Vahlok watched as the Priest produced a sharp, curved bronze knife, somewhat resembling a dragon’s tooth, from the folds of her clothes. She stopped before the dragon and gave a deep bow, placing the hand that held the dagger behind her back.

“Kahvozein, my lord,” she said. “I bring to you this sacrifice, only just captured -- a rebel against the glorious regime.”

The dragon chuckled, a deep laugh that seemed to shake the very foundations of the chamber. “A traitor, you say?” he said, his teeth bared in an approximation of a smile. “Do you all ʜᴏɴ these words?”

The audience broke into a hellish sort of noise, fueled by pure hatred. Mere inches behind one, Vahlok stifled his breathing, trying his damndest to not be caught. His mind had crawled to a stop at about a thousand miles an hour in mid-flight. The multitude screamed vile words towards the rebel, spit out their darkest curses and cursed him down to his earliest ancestor as the man regained bleary consciousness. The rebel realized what his situation was all of a sudden and began struggling against his bindings. Vahlok watched, mesmerized, as the Dragon Priest walked up to his face and gave him a resounding slap that echoed through the room; the man visibly gave up on freedom as soon as his cheek hit the table. He whimpered.

The Priest placed her hand on the man’s chest. “Well, well, well,” she said, “weren’t you a hunter before you fell? I wonder if you were good with the bow.” She chuckled and lifted the knife, placing it under one of the man’s eyes. He screamed, muffled by a cloth gag, and she just shook her head. “Now, now,” she added.

Before he saw something he wouldn’t be able to unsee, Vahlok violently averted his gaze from the spectacle, instead focusing on the candle closest to a nearby huge curtain. He heard muffled screaming. The candle seemed dangerously close to the curtain. The audience held its breath. He looked into its flame, burning a white smear into his gaze. He didn’t think about the wet, ugly noises he could hear coming from the room, until --

“And now,” the Priest said, “perhaps the other one.”

Perhaps not, Vahlok thought, and he kicked the candle onto the cloth.

The fire spread in huge, sudden bursts, consuming the curtains hungrily. The mortals gathered started screaming. The dragon stood up, glared from side to side as smoke began filling the room, then roared; useless, because Vahlok had hidden behind the archway’s side once again. He heard hundreds of footsteps storming out of the room, hid in the darkness behind the archway as people poured out of the chamber through his very own archway, and then suddenly, on impulse, slipped inside the chamber and ran towards the stage.

Vahlok hurried through the crowd, being bumped around and almost ran over, before he reached the stage. It’d been deserted by the Priest, but the rebel remained bound on the table, sobbing hysterically. Vahlok hurried up and produced a lockpick, thanked Miraak for teaching him how to break locks. Thanked Miraak… oh, he’d have time to thank Miraak for everything when he was back on Solstheim. He clumsily opened the chains’ padlock. The rebel fell into his arms, already coughing up smoke, and Vahlok coughed with him, too. He glanced at the rebel’s empty eye-socket. Fuck. Vahlok managed to get the rebel to stand up, holding onto his shoulder, and began half-carrying him towards the exit, until he heard a voice like thunder.

“ YOU! ”

Vahlok turned around. Face bared to the world, he made eye contact with the dragon Kahvozein, Proud-Reversing-Beyond. His eyes widened, and he turned away as soon as he could, but the damage was done; the dragon, coughing up smoke, was after them.

Vahlok dove to the ground, bringing the rebel down with him, just barely avoiding the dragon’s maw. He coughed and crawled forward, bringing the rebel with him, and pushed himself and the man both off the platform. They fell onto the quickly-emptying chamber’s floor. Vahlok stood up and held the rebel as he ran, as fast as he could, away from the great wyrm’s snapping jaws; finally, he was able to get both of them past the archway, too small for the dragon. He heard Kahvozein Shout furiously, uselessly filling the chamber up with even more fire before leaving in a hurry, and slid to the floor, still holding onto the rebel.

The rebel looked at Vahlok, wide-eyed. He coughed and seemed to notice something, touched his empty… orbit… ah. Yes.  The man blinked and then gave up on reality, falling unconscious on Vahlok’s chest.

“...I was wrong,” Vahlok whispered. “I was so, so wrong. All this time.” His shoulders shook, and he began sobbing from shock into the stranger’s auburn hair.

Someone knocked at his door, that fateful day. (A year ago; remorse bit at Vahlok. An eternity).

At the sound, Midaar blearily blinked the last bits of sleep away from his eyes. He slapped his nightstand until he found his mask and stood up, sliding it in place; then he yawned.

“Who is it?” Midaar asked.

“It’s me, Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ,” Miraak’s voice replied. There was a tone in his voice, an edge of urgency, that Midaar had rarely seen from him before. It finished waking him up. Midaar grabbed the nearest clothes he could find -- yesterday’s -- and went to the door, which opened with a soft click.

Miraak wasn’t wearing his mask.

Midaar hurried to slide the mask halfway off his face. “Miraak? Is everything alright?” he questioned, suspicious. He had barely seen Miraak’s face in years, since his friend had been made a Priest.

Miraak shushed him, urgent. “I need to talk to you now.”

“What’s wrong?”

Miraak stared at him for a moment. “I… Fuck’s sake, Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ.” He let his head drop on Midaar’s chest; Midaar took a step back, surprised at Miraak’s arms around his ribcage. He hugged him back. Miraak breathed in deeply, then continued. “There’s things I need to tell you. Things I didn’t trust you enough to tell you.”

“How important?"

“Very.”

“I thought you knew you could trust me.”

“Not with this, though.” Miraak’s voice was muffled. “But I’m here to right those wrongs.”

Midaar pulled Miraak away from him. “Alright. Tell me then.” His brow furrowed in worry.

Miraak looked away. “Where to begin,” he mused. “Where to even begin.” He shook his head, then looked back at Midaar. “I saw a dragon die, six months ago from today.”

“You -- what?” The dragons were immortal. If one of them was somehow slain, Alduin would claim his soul and resurrect him. No dragon could die, and this was known.

“I saw a dragon die, Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ. I had -- sneaked,” Miraak admitted, just a smidge shameful, “sneaked somewhere I never should’ve gone to. Two dragons fought, enraged by clashing… it doesn’t matter. One died. And I… Its soul. I saw it.”

“You -- Lord, Miraak, where did you go?!”

“It doesn’t matter. Not far from here. Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ, I… I need to tell you something I discovered about myself that day, and I need you to know I was scared.”

“What are you talking about? Are you still scared?” Priorities, snarked a voice in Midaar’s head.

“I’ll explain, and no -- I assure you, I’m not scared anymore. I will not be scared anymore, and this is a promise.”

“Then tell me.” Midaar’s grip on Miraak’s shoulder tightened.

“When the dragon died,” Miraak said, slowly, “it glowed. I saw its soul, an orange flame -- an impossible flame, forged through eons of living. And it… went, inside of me.”

Midaar’s mouth opened. It stuttered silently, then closed.

“I know,” Miraak replied. “This was the answer, Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ. When we were children -- I was stronger, more powerful. Healed faster. I’ve always had the ᴛʜᴜ'ᴜᴍ on the tip of my tongue. And I found my answer. I absorbed the soul, do you understand what it means? Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ, my soul is that of a dragon’s.”

“I…” Midaar just stared at his friend.

(That was the pivotal moment. Vahlok, in but a few months, would rewind the entire conversation a thousand times in his head, thinking over and over what he could’ve done better, how he could’ve helped his brother. And it always, to him, revolved around that moment -- the moment Miraak’s face fell for the first time in ten years, since that talk under the sunset. The last in a string of times Midaar wilfully had let himself be left behind).

Midaar’s first words after the pivotal second had been, “This cannot be.”

Miraak’s eyes widened, and his face hardened. “It can. I’ve ached for power just like one of them from day one, Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ, and you know this.”

“You -- dragons don’t own the spirit of conquest. I can’t… Lord Alduin, is this why you…?” He trailed off, shaking his head. This was a nightmare, a bad dream. It would soon pass.

“There is a spirit, a god of wisdom, Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ. He knows everything. He could grant me the wisdom to rule -- grant us the wisdom to rule, my brother. I did what I had to do for the best of this land, and I beg of you to join us.”

“Us.”

“Yes. You think I am alone in this rebellion? No. Others have seen the truth too, Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ. Please, listen to me. He could be so much more to us than a dragon who does naught but allow his fellows to toy with our kind.”

Midaar stared, wide-eyed, at his brother. There was a look in his brown eyes that made him hesitate for a moment, but then blinked and looked away.

“A spirit,” Midaar said. Empty. “Miraak, you cannot trust him.” He looked back at Miraak, put a hand on his shoulder. “Please. It’s not too soon, Miraak, I beg of you to desist. This is not--” Not how we were raised. Not how we lived. (Unlike anything we ever knew).

“No, you don’t understand -- they were wrong!”

“I can’t! This is how it’s been our entire lives, Miraak. You-- This isn’t right! The dragons will kill you, and the spirit -- what says he’s trustworthy?! And you’d make a shit ruler!”

“What was that?!”

“You don’t care about people! You just care about power! And you’re so fucking rebellious, you refuse to listen to anybody! You’d end up a tyrant!”

The fire in Miraak’s eyes flickered and died. “...Fine,” he said. He smacked Midaar’s hand away from his shoulder, stepped back. Rage built up in his shoulders, built up his shoulders.  He made as if to turn around, only to abort the movement.

“Go fucking die, then, with your precious tyrannical regime,” Miraak told him, disdainful, cold -- and he punched Midaar’s face.

It caught his mouth, the side of his cheek. Midaar’s head was slung backwards and he bent over, spitting out blood. More than blood; one of his canines appeared on his hand, and his tongue immediately went to poke in its place -- empty. Shit. Shit!

“Miraak,” he muttered, just slightly sibilant. “Miraak! What the fuck?!” His head whipped upwards -- but Miraak was already gone.

A year and a day after Miraak’s defeat, Vahlok watched silently as the dragons landed upon the island of Solstheim, and Paarthurnax watched him back, equally silent. Blood dripped from the arrow wound over one of his eyes, but Paarthurnax ignored the warmth on his temple as the last of the other dragons settled.

Vahlok stared from behind his mask, hands clasped behind his back, regal.

“...And so, the dragons have come to Solstheim,” he began, simply.

“And so we have,” Paarthurnax echoed. “To one of the last bastions of our rule, we come, so that the revolution might not have spread here.”

Vahlok did not move. That should’ve been the first clue, in retrospect; Vahlok did not bow, did not take a knee, did not seem particularly worshipful at all of the dragons. He simply stared, his head swiveling left and right, and behind his mask his eyes jumping from dragon to dragon. Counting them.

“I am afraid,” he said, “I cannot afford you safety.”

Paarthurnax tilted his head. “...How so?”

Vahlok’s eyes snapped to him, and he took a moment to reply. “This island is too small, its harvest too poor,” he blatantly lied. “We do not have enough room to afford even thinking about it.”

“These sound like excuses, Vᴀʜʟᴏᴋ,” Paarthurnax replied. “We can clearly fit, seeing as we already do so.”

“Oh, but there are no buildings designed for dragons on this island anymore,” Vahlok replied. “No grand stone arches, no purple curtains.”

“...Purple curtains. A strange choice of words.” Paarthurnax didn’t notice Vahlok’s shoulders stiffening. “I admit I have seen them. Nonetheless -- a ᴅᴏᴠᴀʜ does not need ᴊᴏᴏʀ’s buildings.”

“No, you don’t.”

“And you can feed us. Even if you couldn't, we do not strictly need food. This we know, and so do you. So why lie, then?”

Vahlok stood for a moment, arms straightened, quiet. He slowly bowed his head. Paarthurnax did not expect the next thing he heard from the mortal’s lips to be a chortle -- a small, choked-down laugh, escalating into a giggle and from there onto an open laugh.

Vahlok bent down the middle, consumed by laughter. The dragons’ wings rustled. His laughs echoed in the empty morning, bouncing off the gently-falling snow like sunlight would’ve done otherwise.

“Ah, hah hah!”, he wheezed, holding a hand to his stomach. “Oh, you’ve caught me, my lord.” He sighed. “I’ll miss this land.”

The dragons looked at each other, uncomfortable. “What are you talking about?”, one spoke up.

Vahlok huffed, the last of his laughter left behind, and straightened up, chest puffed forwards. “I reject the charge of governor of Solstheim,” he said, his words muffled from behind his mask. “I reject the charge of the guardian of Solstheim. I reject the charge of jailor of Miraak.”

As he spoke, he dug his hands into his hood, untying something; he pulled down his hood and his mask fell onto the ground. Big, dark eyes on a pale face, copper wisps of hair flicking against his face in the wind.

“And... I reject the charge of sonaak,” he finished.

“You-- you cannot do that!”, shouted another dragon.

“Oh, I can,” Vahlok replied. “I quit. I desert. I am finished with your horrible little charade of a religion.”

Angry roars and affronted whispers sprouted in the crowd of dragons. Paarthurnax silenced his entourage with a look, then looked back into Vahlok’s eyes; the mortal did not flinch.

“You are bound to us until death,” Paarthurnax said.

“I am bound no longer,” Vahlok replied. “As are the innocents and guilty alike you’ve captured, careless, to be sacrificed as entertainment. As are the multitudes dead in mismanaged famines. As was my brother, Miraak -- the priest named, as I once was, for loyalty.”

The dragons seemed about ready to jump on Vahlok, but Paarthurnax taking a step forward embarrassed them, cowed them into watching what would be a fun spectacle.

Paarthurnax looked down at Vahlok, just a tiny speck of grey and brown some distance below his field of view. Vahlok stared up at him, his hair whipping in the wind -- definitely longer than a sᴏɴᴀᴀᴋ’s should be.

“And this is where you truly wish to stand, then? Nᴀᴜʀ ᴅᴀᴀʀ ᴋᴏʟ, ʜɪɴᴅ-ᴅɪʀ?”

“Yes,” was Vahlok’s succinct response. “Miraak was right.”

“...You have planned this,” Paarthurnax realized. “For some distance.”

Vahlok frowned, confused. “You could say that, yes.”

Paarthurnax huffed a passable sigh. “If you will not give us your servitude unto death,” he said, slowly, “we will take it.”

Vahlok blinked back tears and smiled. “Take it,” he said. He faced the sky. “I have loved Skyrim for thirty-one years,” he said. “If you loved her as much as I did, as much as men did, as much as Miraak did… things would be different.” He closed his eyes.

Yᴏʟ Tᴏᴏʀ Sʜᴜʟ!

Paarthurnax’s voice was the last thing the dragon priest heard.

mir-aak; "allegiance guide".

* (non-literally) “[I] fairly requested of Alduin to give you mercy, and you unfairly/harshly ask of me this. Mortals [are] weak, should not request [of] us…”

if you liked the fic, feel free to give it kudos on ao3! and stay safe!!

[insomniacandtired]

Opportunity

I decided to try out making an idol/reader. I'm not sure if I'll make anymore, since I still don't fully like them, but if like to know what you guys think about it.

------

You felt yourself being pulled into the apartment, doing your best not to panic. Here you were, face to face with one of your favourite idols ever, and she was pulling you into her home as naturally as if she had known you for years.

If this was a dream, you didn’t want to wake up.

You let her wordlessly push you into a plush armchair. Facing directly opposite you was a pretty large couch, but the only person sitting on it was Hara, trembling like a leaf. You made a move to see if she was okay when Gyuri put a hand on your shoulder, trapping you in place.

“Girls!” she called, and you could almost hear the grin on her face. “We have a guest!”

The other two members came in only a few seconds later, making it seem like they had just been waiting for their cue. They sat flanking Hara, but neither of them even blinked an eye at her condition.

“So, here’s the deal,” Gyuri murmured in your ear. “We want you to do something for us, but you can’t say a word about what happens here, okay?”

You nod easily. You hadn’t planned on telling anyone you met Kara anyways, since the location of their home wasn’t public knowledge. You felt…proud, knowing you were probably their only fan to have been inside their home.

Gyuri smiled at your agreement, gesturing with her free hand. Hara rose and walked over, every step looking painful as she staggered and stumbled. All your excitement was lost, replaced with worry. What had happened to her, and why weren’t her members caring in the slightest? You were starting to get a bit mad at their dismissal, only for it to be wiped away as Hara drops heavily into your lap.

(Really, you could barely feel her weight, but the drop looked pained.)

An odd feeling stirred in your chest as she tucked into your torso, the height difference never more plain. You had always been on the taller side, meaning the crown of her head tucked neatly under your chin. Her hands gripped your shirt near the collar, and this close you could hear the breathy little gasps she was letting out.

“What’s wrong with her?” you ask, arms instinctively coming up to curl protectively around her frame.

Gyuri chuckles, scratching Hara’s nape fondly. You don’t miss how Hara squirms away from the touch. “Our little baby here’s just a little tense,” she said, but you could tell from her tone that that wasn’t the whole story. She leans in close to whisper, and you suddenly remember your close proximity with two of your favorite idols. You fight the blush from rising to your face, but you can feel your ears getting a bit too warm.

“We’ve been edging her for the past three weeks,” Gyuri reveals, and your eyes go wide as dinner plates. “She only gets to come today if you let her.”

You look to Hara, and the trembling suddenly makes a lot more sense. Your arms tighten unconsciously, making her whimper.

Gyuri smirks, letting go of you to go and claim Hara’s seat. Seungyeon speaks up, voice low and heavy. “You have no restrictions. Call her whatever you want, do whatever you wish to her. But don’t let her come too early. Make her work for it.”

Youngji giggles, a wicked smirk on her lips. “Go wild!” she encourages.

You look down to Hara and grasp her chin, making her look up at you. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

A shudder passes over her, and she nods frantically. Her breathing is heavy and her eyes are unfocused, and you can feel yourself getting more turned on by the second. Regardless, you have the permission you need.

You tug her shirt up, a simple pink tank top, waiting for her to lift her arms to get it off entirely. She’s not wearing anything underneath, treating you to the sight of her small breasts, rosy tipped and perfect. Your thumbs brush over her nipples, making her squeak in embarrassment. The reaction makes you grin, and you duck down to nibble at her neck while you tease her.

The combination has her panting, clutching at your head like it was her only anchor in a hurricane. Her grip was weak, though, making you huff out a laugh.

You’ve had experience edging girlfriends in the past, so you knew when she was getting close. The moment her body locked up, you backed off, taking the impending orgasm with you. It takes a moment for her to realize what you did, and she’s crying as soon as she does.

“Why?” she wails, sobbing into your throat. It’d be heartbreaking if it didn’t turn you on so much.

You stroke her spine, soothing her with quiet shushes and murmurs. It takes a few minutes for her to settle down, finally looking up at you. “You’re only allowed to come if I say so, okay babygirl?”

She pouts, and you want to give in, but you hold firm. Finally, she nods. “Okay.”

You give her a smile, kissing her forehead. Reality hits you again. You woke up this morning expecting nothing but another day delivering packages. Somehow, that evolved to having your way with the Goo Hara.

What the fuck was your life right now?

The shorts she was wearing were riding up, showing off her lack of underwear. The sight entranced you, and you slid your finger down the seam before you realized what you were doing. Her breath hitched, and before you knew it she was grinding down on your hand. You smirked, pressing into her with enough force to make her cry out. She looked up at you with watery eyes, making you coo.

“Hara-yah,” Seungyeon called, reminding you that the others were still there. You looked up to see Gyuri and Seungyeon staring at you with half open eyes, while Youngji was openly touching herself under her skirt. “Are you being a good girl?”

Hara whimpered out a “Yes.”

Gyuri hummed. “I don’t think you are. Good girls give kisses, don’t they?”

Hara perked up immediately, diving for your face and pressing sweet little kisses all over your face. Deciding to help, you angled yourself so she could access your lips. The kiss you got was long, gentle, and perfect, so much so that you forgot about your situation entirely. It became all about her.

She tasted like chocolate.

When you pulled away, she smiled hopefully. “Can I please come? Haven’t I been a good girl?”

You shake your head, petting her softly as she starts to pout again. “Not just yet, baby. We haven’t even gotten to the main course, yet.”

“But I wanna co~me!” she whines, bouncing in your lap. She was acting more excitable than earlier, making you wonder if it was because of the kiss. The sudden slap to her ass makes her still, a shocked squeak escaping her lips.

“Be good,” you warn, “or I won’t let you come at all.”

Her eyes go wide, and she shakes her head nervously, instantly settling back down. You almost miss the bubbly personality but having Hara’s complete obedience is way too much of a rush to not abuse.

You stroke her thighs, making her unconsciously spread her legs wider for you. Gripping her hips, you lift her to her feet. Her hands ball up under her chin, and you want nothing more than to kiss her again, but you refrain. Instead, you press your lips to her tummy. She cooed, and you can feel her abs shiver. Your thumbs hook under the hem of her shorts, slowly dragging them down over the curve of her ass and her slender legs.

She was completely bare, and you could see the dew gathering. You longed to taste it, but you had a plan first.

Keeping your hold on her, you bend Hara over your lap. She’s squirming in embarrassment, but a solid smack to her ass made her still. You move her hair out of her face, but she catches it, gripping your fingers and holding your hand close to her face. You let her take her comfort, stroking the back of her thighs.

“Stay quiet for me, baby,” you say, admiring the sight of the perfect little idol in your lap. “Remember, no coming unless I tell you to.”

Your hand slips up her thigh, teasing at her entrance. She presses the back of your hand to her mouth, muffling the little whimper she let out. You decide to allow it. Your fingers stroked at her lips, flicking over her clit, your touch feather light. In seconds, she was gasping and trembling, doing her best to stay quiet and utterly failing. You didn’t care to punish her. The idea of making Hara lose herself was far too enthralling to make her stop.

Again, the moment she started to come, you stopped. She sobbed, kissing your knuckles to try and distract herself.

As you let her calm down, you glanced back up at the other couch. Youngji was now seated in Gyuri’s lap, bare as the day she was born as Gyuri played with her. Seungyeon was playing with herself, grinding down on her hand with a fervour. It seemed you weren’t the only one affected by what you were doing to Hara.

Once Hara was still again, you shifted her, letting her bury her face in your chest again. You massaged between her shoulder blades, helping her calm down.

“There’s a good girl,” you murmur, kissing her temples. “You’ve been so good for me…would you like to come, babydoll?” She nods desperately, her grip on your shirt tight. It makes you grin. “Ask nicely, then. Give me a reason to make you come.”

She looked up at you, lower lip trembling with desperation. “Please…Please! Please let me come! I’ve been a good girl, I swear!”

“Are you sure you want to come?”

“Yes…please!”

You smirk. Right now that was her answer, but you’d see if that’d stay the same. Without another word, you lift her onto your shoulders. Her thighs wrap around your head, and the feel of her silken skin on your face nearly makes you moan.

You attack Hara with your lips, making her writhe so much that she had to grasp your head for balance. She cries out, doing her best not to fall as you hold her in place.

It only takes a couple minutes before she’s arching back, nearly screaming into the air as she came. She nearly falls from your shoulders, so you help her down, letting her curl up in your lap as you massage her tummy.

She looks up at you, eyes wide and watery. Innocent. “Thank you…” she murmurs, followed closely after by a tiny little yawn.

You laugh, caressing her cheek for a moment before grasping her jaw in an iron grip. You snarl. A sadistic gleam enters your eye as you snarl.

“You really think we’re done, princess? We’re not finished until you can’t even remember your own name. I’m going to ruin you, and you’re going to thank me for it.”

There was a flicker of fear on her face for a moment before your fingers were back inside her. She cried out, nearly in pain from how turned on she was. You grin viciously, savagely pumping her until she was coming again. She was panting, trying to catch her breath as she clutched at your wrist desperately.

“Please…” she whispered. “I…I can’t…”

You say nothing as you start again.