#semi-rigid in rhythm

[doumadono]

❛ you can't expect me to do all the work. i want to see what that pretty mouth of yours can do. ❜ Dabi & f reader (whatever type you'll choose!)

Congratulations on your well-deserved success! You're an inspiration to me - I started writing thanks to you and I've never been happier. Please never change 🙏

Practice makes perfect - Dabi x Reader

Warnings: smut w/o plot, oral (m receiving), f!reader Synopsis: Dabi evaluates your oral proficiency 😏 A/N: thank you so much for your kind words, dear Nonnie! I'm incredibly touched to hear that I've been a source of inspiration for you. It's wonderful to know that you've found joy in writing. Your support means a lot, and I'll always strive to be a positive influence

MASTERLIST

Dabi stood tall above you, his hands gently cupping your head, a stark reminder of the power they held, capable of crushing your fragile skull with ease if you were his enemy. Your jaw felt immobilized as his slender form hovered before you. Proximity brought you so near to his body that your nose almost brushed against the belt adorning his hips. His t-shirt was already discarded, and the subtle scent of salt clung to his abdomen.

"You know," Dabi's voice resonated above, tinged with a hint of menace, his palms exerting pressure against your cheeks, "You can't expect me to do all the work. I want to see what that pretty mouth of yours can do, baby doll."

Retracting one hand from your jaw, Dabi began to fumble with his belt. Almost immediately after pushing his jeans down to his ankles, he revealed his semi-erect dick, gently nudging the flushed tip against your lips. "Suck it, doll."

Compliantly, your lips parted, a delicate submission to his prominent desire. With a cautious grace, you accepted the tender flesh into your mouth, a sensation that carried a subtle blend of warmth and vulnerability.

A complex blend of flavors greeted your taste buds - a subtle dance between the bittersweet notes of salt and sugar, intertwined with the delicate musk of sweat. The mingling scents enveloped your senses, creating an overpowering yet strangely intoxicating sensation. With your mouth slightly agape, your own saliva clung to your lips, and the faint aroma found its way to your nose, immersing you further. You moaned quietly.

Your eyes remained fixed on Dabi, your desperation evident as you longed for a hint of warmth in his gaze. A small shift occurred, a flicker of softness that touched his expression, albeit ever so slightly.

You bobbed your head back and forth slowly, your tongue skillfully tracing the contours of his shaft as you groaned around him.

His voice, a deep resonance, broke the silence, reaching your ears like a caress. "That's it, doll. Such a good girl."

In response, your palms instinctively pressed against his thighs, a yearning to draw closer to him, to bask in his presence. The compliment he bestowed upon you carried a spark of affirmation that ignited a desire to lean into his approval.

Your puzzled expression didn't escape notice, prompting Dabi to reach out and delicately tuck a stray strand of hair behind your reddening ear. "Keep going, princess, just like that, you're doing a fucking good job down there," he urged, his voice a velvety murmur that seemed to linger in the air. His dark lashes brushed down as his eyes traced over you once more, igniting a surge of excitement that sent your heart into a rapid rhythm and made your pussy clench around nothing. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, heightening your senses and propelling you forward.

You fixated on the now rigid contour of his shaft, the taste of his skin replaced by a mingling of your own scent and saliva.

His hands, simultaneously unkind and gentle, wrapped around your head once more. Dabi was toying with both your head and your heart, a deliberate game you were acutely aware of.

Under Dabi's guidance, your motions accelerated, your compliance unwavering. A gasp escaped your lips, followed by a guttural moan, a mix of discomfort and arousal as the rounded tip of his cock abruptly breached the recesses of your throat with a throbbing force as he bucked his hips into you. The forceful intrusion left a bruising sensation against your hard palate. You fought the urge to gag, your throat accommodating his entirety, your nose pressed desperately against the coarseness of his groin.

A brief respite emerged as he withdrew momentarily, allowing your teeth to graze against him, a fleeting sensation that granted you an opportunity to breathe.

"Fuck, princess, careful with these teeth," he hissed lowly. Yet, without pause, Dabi thrust himself back in your welcoming, warm, slick mouth. He continued to thrust into your throat with an unrelenting rhythm.

Your head bobbed and jerked, devoid of any gentleness, a disorienting dance dictated solely by his actions.

Soon, he plunged himself deeply once more, his full length settling within you. "Fuck, take it, take it, babygirl."

You battled for breath while his pulsating member twitched and quivered, sending thick ropes of cum down your throat. All you could do was to moan.

Shortly after, he withdrew, his thumb delicately sweeping away a droplet of his cum from the corner of your mouth. "Impressive job, princess," Dabi remarked with a soft smile, his words dripping with approval. "I'll continue to train you further, doll. It's important for you to master your skills after all."

[izaanagi]

Oliver... handjob kink (idk what it's called)

— tw. handjob feat. Oliver Aiku.

+ mdni. reblogs are always appreciated!

You've been kissing Oliver for what feels like hours, and your hands have been wandering around his broad and firm chest, his chiseled pecks, his hard abdomen but have never ventured farther. You don't know whether it is because you're afraid of what it might brings, or because you're simply afraid you won't be up to par to the girls that must have touched, and not only, Oliver.

"Hey, doll?" he asks, as he looks up from your neck, where bruises of all shapes and sizes are blooming, as he stares right through you with his enigmatic dual toned eyes, lust blowing his pupils only to leave a rim of colour around. He looks like a thoroughly fucked god.

"What's up? I can hear you thinking even if your lips aren't moving."

Your core pulses, because Oliver is just like that. He makes you hungry and wet, and hungry and wet and then makes you feel as if there hasn't been anyone in his life that would have ever made him like that way, too.

"Can you teach me how to touch you?" you ask, hesitant, but you feel before you see Oliver's eyes widening, and a gulp going doing his throat. He does not have an answer for you.

After a small moment of silence, he takes your hand in his, and looks you straight in the eye.

"Trust me."

And that's all he says, before he is already guiding your hand toward the zip line of his pants and helps you unbutton them, slowly, steadily. Yet, time feels to move in molasses and all you can hear is the rush of blood inside your ears, the way your pussy is getting wetter inside your panties, and your nipples stiff inside your half inside-out bra, and the warmth of Oliver's palm.

He takes his pants off, and all you're left with is the bulge of his desire and the saliva you're trying to swallow without suffocating.

"It's okay, doll. Slowly," he gently whispers and then you're already cupping his length through the fabric. He's big, and he's clearly already semi-hard, with a wet patch on the front. It makes you feel marginally better to know you're not the only one to be in that situation.

Your hand in his, he strokes himself all over his rigid cock one, slowly, making you feel exactly where he ends and where the base is, still covered by the boxers. You lift your hand again, the cloth creating a friction against his raw skin that makes him inhale sharply. God, he is big, but his hand isn't leaving yours, so after stroking again and again, familiarising yourself with his shape, you feel bold enough to speak.

"Can you take them off?"

"Do you want me to take them off?" he asks, and when you nod, it's all but a moment that you're left with glorious Oliver Aiku standing stark naked in front of you, his shaft stiff and ready for your hand to resume its work.

At the touch, he feels warm. The vein underneath throbs, and the glans is already swollen and deliciously red, as a strawberry. In a passing moment of confidence you wonder whether it would taste like that, too.

"There's not much to it besides what you've been doing already, sweetheart," Oliver adds, but you doubt that is the case. And yet, you're already wrapping your hand around him, not even reaching all the way, and resuming again the sliding motion. His skin moves with your palm, and Oliver's hand with yours. It goes up and down, exactly as you will it to. Then, Oliver twist his wrist, up in one direction and going down in another.

"That's the movement, yes. Gently, up and down until you feel it twitch, alright?"

You feel yourself nodding, before you're backing it up with another corkscrew motion of Oliver's cock, already giving a twitch at that. He has been breathing as if in labour for a while, and you can see the way he wants to jerk up his hips to meet your hand, but is refraining from doing so.

You pick up the rhythm, his cock growing his each motion of your wrist stroking it u, swallowing the glans in and then down again, twisting, and revealing the way the mushroom top is carmine and ready to burst. It takes another five minutes of you stroking Oliver, first slowly and then faster, until all your do is get a little farther than the top and then up, in jerking motions you know you'll have to practice to become good at, when you feel the cock under your hands twitch uncontrollably and Oliver to gasp in.

He cums on your hand in heavy, white strikes. They feel heavy on your hand, and there's a weird fascination that makes you want to dip your tongue inside of you and taste. But you don't, not before you have given another full pump to Oliver's cock and feel him slump against the bed post.

"Was that your first handjob?"

You nod, not able to fight the blushing, not the fact that you've nearly cum yourself watching him.

"I surely hope it won't be the last then," he adds, cheeky, as he kisses you fully, tongue wiping your internal walls, and then helps you clean up his own mess. The smell of Oliver lingers longer you'd like to admit.

[tricitymonsters]

DAY 5 - Biological Changes

DAY 5 - Biological Changes

Akello x Reader w/o a cock

Content warnings: changes to biology, slime cock, slime powers, rearranging the body, overstimulation, dramatic libido increase.

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Sex with Akello is 100% going to ruin you for literally anyone else.  He’s sensual, he’s attentive, he’s sweet, he’s got stamina for days… but even beyond all of that, he’s intense and inventive and his slime powers can make you feel things you didn’t even know were possible.  When he breaks away from an intense make-out session to ask if you’ve ever been curious about how sex feels with different body parts, you kind of laugh a little.  Surely it’s one of life’s big curiosities.  Even people who don’t question their sexuality think about it.

”I told you I can sort of hook up to the body’s nervous system right?  Would you wanna try?”

”Try having a dick?”  The idea is intriguing on its own but because I’ve already worked yourself up grinding on him, the thought is so inflaming you can feel yourself getting wetter almost instantly.

He seems to read your mind and smiles a little rakishly.  “Excited, huh?  I’ve been wanting to try this for a while, I gotta admit.”  

In a heated rush, he comes back in to pull your shirt off, kissing you the moment he can get his lips to yours.  He moves behind you, leaning in to nuzzle the slope where your neck meets your shoulder, and laying a heavy arm across your collarbone in a semi-embrace.  His other hand wends down your side and his thick fingers delve between your thighs, rubbing gently but with enough insistence to part your lips.  He lets out a hungry breath at the feel of you so slick and hot but he’s trying to focus and you can tell it’s a struggle.

At first, the only thing you can feel is the structure and rigidity of his arm morphing into the cool, flexible weight you've come to associate with his slime.  When he pulls back, a thick mass of dark green slime covers the rise of your pubic mound, and after a second, his arm reforms.  He shifts his other arm around you and pulls you into him tightly as he concentrates on manipulating the piece of himself he’s left behind.

It's not that you didn’t believe him- you’ve seen him do crazier things with his slime form- but you gasp as the slime quivers for a second before the sensation hits you.  Tendrils of slime are pressing deeper, sliding into your  pussy and coiling tightly around your clit.  Your mind goes completely blank for a second in the overload as Akello taps into you.

When you can focus again all you can do is moan.  The thing protruding proudly from between your legs is dark green and shiny but otherwise a picture-perfect cock and balls.  Akello was kind enough to GENEROUSLY size it too and the sight is so unbelievably hot I can’t think clearly.  

“You can feel it, right?” Akello asks.

You can’t fucking feel anything else

There’s an incredible tension in your lower body and the weight of this monster dick is totally alien but impossible not to pay attention to.  It’s huge and heavy and your balls, even drawn up tight, are only adding to the sensation.  When Akello’s warm hand wraps around the shaft your whole body arches and you throw your head back in surprise.

You can feel it in every corner of your body and you don’t know what to do or how to react.  You simply shake and gasp wetly as Akello takes the time to work your entire cock from root to tip.  It’s shockingly- HUMILIATINGLY- easy for your body to suddenly start rutting forward into his hand and you can’t help the jerky, needy way you try to get into a rhythm.  Everything feels tight and swollen, your pulse is in the fat head of your dick and you’re gripped with the need for tight, hot friction.

You try to grab yourself, intent to jack off immediately, but Akello bats your hands away.  The noise you let out is pathetic but you’re frankly not all there and you helplessly buck your hips, watching with a mix of potent humiliation and morbid fascination as the- your - heavy shaft bobs.  But Akello only laughs and sinks down on you- the sensation is like being electrified and you buck up harder in surprise, fucking up into his face and then instantly pushing into a rough rhythm as he grabs your hips in an effort to control your exuberance.  But even still, you can see him smirking and hear the low throaty chuckle as he hollows his teeth and sucks tightly

[the-darkness-does-not-bargain]

SCP-XXXX: “Ava”, chapter 4 preview

Just a tidbit of what I’m working on.  Hope you guys are still excited for this!

SCP-XXXX: Do you mean it?

Dr. Young: Mean what?

SCP-XXXX: About all this.  Will you really teach me about cells and stuff?

Dr. Young smiles.

Dr. Young: Yes, Ava, if you’re willing to learn, I will teach you.  Do you like learning about science?

SCP-XXXX shrugs.

SCP-XXXX: It beat bible study by a mile.  Though that might have more to do with the teachers.  Sister Agatha taught all the science classes, such as they were.  She tried to make it a little fun… even did the whole mini volcano thing during the geology unit.  We thought that was the coolest shit.

Dr. Young: I’m not a geologist, but the study of volcanic activity is fascinating.  I’m sure the library here has books on it if you’re interested.

SCP-XXXX: I think I’ll stick with biology to start, not that rocks aren’t cool as shit.  Thanks, Bea.

Dr. Young: Of course, Ava.

Approximately 5 seconds of silence elapse.

SCP-XXXX: So… what about you?

Dr. Young: Hmm?  What about me?

SCP-XXXX shifts forward in her chair, shifting her weight to either side in a semi-regular rhythm.

SCP-XXXX: Well, obviously you like learning about science, but did you always want to study animals and cells and stuff?

Dr. Young taps her pen against her notepad.  3 seconds of silence elapse.  SCP-XXXX leans back and flushes.

SCP-XXXX: Sorry, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.

Dr. Young smiles at SCP-XXXX.

Dr. Young: Given all the questions we expect you to answer, it’s more than fair for you to ask some in return.  I apologize for my absentmindedness.

SCP-XXXX: Oh, no worries.  It’s chill.

Dr. Young: To answer your question, no.  For a long time, I didn’t want to pursue a career in science at all.  I was always fascinated by it, but I never even considered earning a degree in it until I entered university.

SCP-XXXX leans forward again.

SCP-XXXX: What did you think you wanted to do?

Dr. Young: Don’t laugh when I tell you.  It seems quite strange in retrospect.

SCP-XXXX: Wouldn’t dream of it.

Dr. Young: Well… I actually wanted to study religion, and eventually join the church.  I was raised Catholic, and my family was very devout.

SCP-XXXX: Are they doctors too?  Or… religion-studiers or whatever?

Dr. Young chuckles.

Dr. Young: The term you want is theologian.  But no, they were politicians, diplomats.  When I showed less than zero interest in politics, they pushed me to study theology as the only suitable alternative.  They never neglected my education, so I knew that I enjoyed science before but… I also thought that a life devoted to faith would be good for me.

SCP-XXXX: Until?

Dr. Young: Until it came time for me to choose my classes for the first term, and I chose a biology elective.  I took it for fun, I never thought it would cause me to change anything about my path in life.

SCP-XXXX: But it did.

Dr. Young: But it did.  It didn’t happen all at once.  Actually, in hindsight, it was quite slow.  One class turned into more, but I continued to pursue my theology degree well into my third year.  At first, I thought that studying both would give me a richer understanding of my faith, and in many ways it did.

SCP-XXXX: Meaning?

Dr. Young shrugs.

Dr. Young: I believe that there are higher powers out there in the universe.  But what shape those powers take, I have no idea.  God may look nothing like I always imagined Him, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

SCP-XXXX: …But he could be a weird tentacle guy.

Dr. Young laughs.

Dr. Young: He could be.  But there’s a kind of freedom in not knowing, don’t you think?  When you’re certain you know how the world works, you become limited within its perceived rules.  It’s only when you open yourself up to the possibility of being wrong that you can recognize how little you actually know about anything.  It’s a frightening revelation, but an exciting one too.  The rules you thought you were rigid and clearly defined fall away, and a universe of new potential opens up in their wake.  There’s something divine about that, I think.  A single moment of seeing the world as He must.

Approximately 2 seconds of elapse.

SCP-XXXX: So you’re, like, smart smart, huh?

Dr. Young laughs.

Dr. Young: What do you mean by that?

SCP-XXXX flushes and wiggles in her seat.

SCP-XXXX: I mean, like, you know stuff, but you also know stuff about stuff.  Shit, that sounds so stupid.  Forget I said anything.

Dr. Young: I understand what you meant.  It’s not stupid, Ava, and neither are you.

SCP-XXXX: Yeah, sure…

Dr. Young leans forward and rests her hand flat on the table.

Dr. Young: You’re not stupid, Ava.  Uneducated, perhaps, but that isn’t your fault.  And we’re going to fix that now, aren’t we?

SCP-XXXX looks away and bites her bottom lip, and then grins at Dr. Young, who grins back.

SCP-XXXX: Yeah, I guess we are.

[d0rit0san]

comfort

ღ pairing: choi san x f!reader

And the last rays of sunlight danced above the rigid structure of those neighbouring buildings nearby. They dared to call your attention one last time at what seemed the end of another day, stuck in your familiar walls and glass window with the mare sound of nothing.

Silence.

The muffled sounds that came from several feet beneath you were just a sinking blur making its way into your consciousness as you decided to close your eyes to take in the warmth that was about to disappear over the horizon.

The silk sheets caressed your lower back as you laid half naked on your stomach, resting your head on your crossed arms. Body lying on the delicate mattress. The air was intoxicating for you in a rather splendid way, it was like soft cotton candy at the tip of your senses – soothing and relaxing.

Inhale. Exhale. This could not get any better.

Your eyes slowly opened by themselves as your feline companion came into sight laying on the floor in front of you. His healthy black fur had an orange hue painted across his back due to the sun rays that dared to invade your space. He blinked once, head moving to rest atop of his paws, eyes amber like the moon. And then twice, slowly closing them now. Yet, he suddenly stood up and walked off as you felt your hairs stand on end.

You smiled as you turned your head to face the other side of your silent den. The sound of the door opening broke your everlasting silence, and a being made its way into the room in a delicate manner. He sat his bag down on the floor before doing the same with his keys and phone on the nightstand.

His facial features stood out to you, blonde locks of hair growing into a future mullet, some stray hairs showing signs of damage. His tongue travelled across his pinkish lips to wet them as per usual before he removed his coat revealing his semi sweaty tank top. It slightly marked his chest and lean muscles.

Sigh. Oh were you a lucky girl. 

You chuckled catching him by surprise, he really thought he wasn’t making any noise.

“Did I wake you?” he asked in a whisper, feline eyes wide open. You shook your head in denial with a smile that only grew bigger as he now relaxed his expression and faced you.

“How was practice?” you asked before he abruptly dropped on his side of the bed; you propped yourself up using your elbows before looking down at him, letting your messy hair fall in all the right places.

He turned his head to look at you and covered one of his eyes as a reflex to the sunlight cracking through the huge window behind you.

The sunset gave your skin a golden glow that made him stare for a while, appreciating your beauty like he always did. He could never get enough of you as you were now his only goddess.

Unconsciously smiling he said “Gorgeous,” you slightly blushed “You’re just utterly gorgeous, did you know that?”

You moved closer, reducing the space in between you two. You now hovered above him, your hand on his chest and his on your bare waist, arm wrapped around you. His skin against yours caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach as your hand decided to travel across his chest in a back-and-forth motion.

Eye contact held by both of you was a no brainer and the feeling of his chest rising and falling in a calm rhythm, alleviated you in ways you couldn't explain. His scent invading your consciousness.

The both of you could literally just stay like this for hours.

“How about I shower and get changed and then we can do whatever you want,” he said in a low voice as he caressed your waist. 

He was at ease just like you were. Your brows momentarily raised in approval before leaning down closer to his lips. It was a slow but passionate kiss, occasional biting, and causal sucking as well. No rush required.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” you murmured inches away from his now slightly swollen lips, panting for the missing oxygen in his lungs.

He smiled before leaving a chaste kiss on your smiling lips for one last time. Then broke away and entered the bathroom to wash up.

You returned to your previous position as your cat walked back into view and laid on the floor in front of you.

You smiled, closing your eyes once again. The last rays of sunlight were gone by then and only silence reigned again in your den.

[saunne]

Writing - Reflection and Personal Analysis (Pt 2)

(or the actual plan of what the rest of my NaNo will look like)

I have two main problems at the moment : Lack of STRUCTURE and lack of STYLE. And a less important BRAIN problem.

STRUCTURE

The biggest blockage comes from my lack of planning and the fact that until then I was writing in semi-improvisation. I had an overall plot line to follow, but nothing very detailed.

Which is the heart of the problem.

Because since this isn't a fanfic, I need a lot more careful planning. Chapter by chapter, I need to know what the chapter should be about, who we meet there, who we follow, what information we learn, what scenes take place there, what their purpose is, what clues I should slip in, what false routes pose... I need a step by step manual, a complete checklist, with scene fragments and possibly color coding.

So from now on, this is what I'm going to do for NaNo, officially switching to the Rebel side. No novel writing for me this month, we will focus on the detailed planning of said novel, scene by scene, chapter by chapter.

Well, I say "novel", but it would be more correct to say story. In order not to get stuck by a rigid structure that I'm bad with, I'm just going to put aside the volume by volume structure and simply plan according to my narrative arcs, since I already have some of the planning written during last Camp.

I am more than capable of catching up if I switch to this method. I already have a good backup of information, and putting everything in order and detailing what I want to achieve will help me move forward faster than the blind writing I was doing until now.

STYLE

It’s obvious that I need to develop my novelistic style.

My fanfic style has developed over 4 years but I will not and cannot wait 4 years for my novelistic style to mature. Having a clear plan will already help me avoid going off track when writing, but I need to figure out how I'm going to manage.

Am I more comfortable with a more compact or airier style ? Do I favor very long sentences or short sentences? What is the rhythm of my writing ? Do I have writing tics, words that come back too often, turns of phrase reused in all sorts of ways? How do I deal with dialogue ? Descriptions of decor ? The emotional and reflective side of internal monologue ? How do I integrate the information in a fluid way, the flashbacks, the questions ?

I think the easiest thing would be to practice writing short scenes, or even short stories. This probably won't be something I do during this NaNo, barring sudden bursts of inspiration for Erasde that override my obsessive hyperfocus on my fandoms, but I won't rule out the possibility.

Another possibility could be to restart written role-playing with @gabrielwritessometimes . I have OCs in his world and he has some in mine, so this might be something interesting to do together, depending on everyone's available time and energy.

BRAIN

I can't really change my brain, so we're going to have to learn to overcompensate for the ongoing mess.

I already know that I need to be in a certain mood to write and that if I'm not, there's no point in forcing it. The frustration of not being able to write my fics also plays a big part, so alternating between NaNo and my WIPs according to my mood, energy level and inspiration rather than forcing myself to follow NaNo seems to be a good solution.

Certain places (my bed, the library, cafes, parks) work better for inspiration and concentration. So setting aside a little money to go and spend a few hours in a café at least once a week with one or two drinks and a pastry could be a good idea.

And my brain being a 5 year old with a sugar addiction, it seems that returning to a reward system based on candy and other sweets could alleviate the fluttering in my brain. Watch out for Mom and don't forget dental hygiene I guess.

POST NANO AND CAMP

I'll probably be busy in December, covering shifts at the library, but I plan to continue writing. After NaNo, I'm going to set a daily writing goal : no word limit, but write at least once a day, on any project or WIP.

I plan to submit my thesis and take my oral exam at the beginning of next year, at the earliest for the February holidays and at the latest at the beginning of April. Once my thesis is out of the way, I should be much more relaxed in terms of writing, which will undoubtedly help.

I plan to attend next year's Camp NaNo, both April and July.

If I haven't finished planning by April, this is what I will continue. If I finished it, I will slowly start writing the novel and continue writing during July Camp.

In order to reduce my anxiety, I will work chapter by chapter. That is to say, write a chapter, send it to my friends who wish to give me feedback, whether as readers or official beta-readers. Allow some time to pass, during which I work on other projects or another chapter, before rewriting the revised chapter.

I write primarily for myself, with no publication goals at present.

I don't yet know what I will do with my story once it is sufficiently advanced, if I will try to translate it myself into English to share it, if I will publish it on a platform like ao3 or Wattpad or Webnovel, if I'm going to send it to publishers hoping to get published, if I'm just going to keep it for myself and my group of friends... We'll see.

[guanshentai]

Classification and characteristics of packaging machinery automation production line

　　The packaging process of the automated production line includes main processes such as filling, wrapping, and sealing, as well as related pre- and post-processes, such as cleaning, feeding, stacking, and disassembly, etc. In addition, packaging also includes processes such as measuring or printing the date on the package. The use of packaging machinery to package products can increase productivity, reduce labor intensity, meet the needs of large-scale production, and meet the requirements of cleanliness and sanitation.

　　Classification of packaging machinery automation assembly line:

　　1. According to the connection characteristics between packaging machines, it can be divided into:

　　Rigid automatic packaging line refers to a production line in which packaging machines are directly connected by conveying devices and packaging operations are completed at a certain production pace. This production line has a disadvantage, that is, all machines work at the same rhythm, and if a failure occurs in a certain production link, it will cause the entire production line to stop.

　　The flexible automatic packaging line is equipped with a storage device between each packaging machine, and is sent to the next packaging process by the conveying device as needed. In this way, the defects of the rigid packaging automatic production line are overcome. Even if a certain packaging machine fails, it will not affect the packaging operations of other packaging machines.

　　The semi-flexible automatic packaging line divides the automatic production line into several sections, and does not add storage devices to the sections that are not prone to failure to improve its rigidity; add storage devices to the sections that often fail to improve its flexibility. It not only ensures the productivity, but also reduces the investment.

　　2. According to the combined layout of the packaging machine, it can be divided into:

　　The automatic packaging lines are connected in series, each packaging machine is connected in one direction according to the process flow, and the production rhythm of each stand-alone machine is the same. The structure of this kind of assembly line is relatively simple, and the layout is relatively compact, requiring that the operating speed of each packaging machine is relatively consistent.

　　Parallel automatic packaging lines, divide the equipment with the same packaging function into groups, and jointly complete the same packaging operation until all the tasks of material packaging are completed. In this type of assembly line, it is generally necessary to add a reversing or converging device.

　　The hybrid automatic packaging line adopts both series and parallel forms on one production line. The main purpose is to balance the production rhythm of each packaging machine and realize the productivity matching of each packaging machine. However, this often makes the packaging automatic production line longer and the number of machines is larger, so the types of conveying, reversing, shunting, merging and other devices are also complicated.

　　Features of automatic assembly line for packaging machinery:

　　1. Packaging automation: The degree of automation is an important indicator to measure the level of packaging equipment and technology. At present, IT technology, advanced automation machinery, and intelligent detection, control, and adjustment devices have been introduced into logistics packaging, thereby promoting the development of automatic packaging lines. .

　　2. The complete set of equipment is strong: the single machine or unit with different functions and auxiliary equipment are matched into a continuous operation line, and the sealing, weighing, palletizing, transportation, cleaning and sterilization, measurement, labeling, printing and testing in modern production are integrated. Combined with functions such as transfer and transportation to form a complete set of operation lines.

　　3. Strong versatility: users may have different requirements in terms of material characteristics, weighing accuracy, wrapping, sealing, etc., but many actions are the same or similar, but the size is different. Therefore, the generalization of packaging automatic production lines can improve the utilization value of packaging automatic production lines.

　　4. High technical content: The combination of high-tech and traditional technology improves the working quality, precision, speed and reliability of the automatic packaging production line, and promotes the development of the packaging production line in the direction of intelligence and high automation. For example, computer control technology is applied to Realize accurate metering, high-speed filling and automatic control of packaging process for quantitative packaging of materials.

[boundforhale]

Derek  barely  restrained  himself  from  rolling  his  eyes.  Of  course  Stiles  could  still  find  something  to  complain  about  when  he  was  playing  along  with  what  he  had  been  asking  for  the  last  30  minutes.  There  really  seemed  to  be  no  way  to  win,  but  then  the  teen  seemed  to  get  over  it  and  continued  his  semi-flailing  dance.

He  shrugged  nonchalantly  at  the  question,  simply  stating  "Comes  with  the  job,"  while  he  continued  to  block  potential  interested  parties  from  getting  close  even  as  he  danced  along  to  the  beat  and  rotated  around  Stiles  easily.  "Though  it's  not  exactly  hard  to  have  more  coordination  than  you,"  he  chuckled  teasingly,  the  words  lacking  bite.  

He  could  feel  the  rhythm  resonating  through  his  body  as  he  continued  to  sway  and  move  with  the  music,  allowing  himself  to  just  let  go  of  his  body's  usual  rigidity  as  he  normally  did  whenever  he  had  been  required  to  dance  in  the  past  but  keeping  all  of  his  senses  alert.

Derek  just  clicked  his  tongue  as  he  leaned  in  closer  so  that  only  Stiles  could  hear  him.  "I've  never  danced  for  my  own  enjoyment.  It's  always  been  for  some  kind  of  job,"  he  confessed.  He  honestly  didn't  know  why  or  how  dancing  came  to  him  so  naturally  when  he  had  never  done  it,  not  like  there  were  a  lot  of  opportunities  for  dancing  in  the  military,  but  he  had  received  praise  for  his  skills  during  training.

"I'll admit, you smiling isn't very comforting, but that's because I rarely see it." He murmured, forcing the grimace from his face as he just told himself to pretend that Derek was having fun--and that he was a willing participant here.

"You've got more hand-eye coordination than I do." Stiles pointed out the obvious, already envious of the smooth and sure movements Derek managed. Everything Stiles did had a clumsy air about it.

"What kind of music get you genuinely dancing?" He asked curiously then, leaning forward a little so Derek could hear him. "Or makes you happy?"

[multiversal-madness]

List the first lines of your last 20 stories. See if you find any patterns.

Tagged by @101flavoursofweird

Tagging: whoever wants to do it!

I don’t have 20 fics yet so I’ll do my published ones first, then a few of my unpublished fics.

He watched from the cameras as the surprisingly intelligent cat jumped around his flat, knocking over piles of books that hadn’t been disturbed in centuries, scratching up old damaged carpets and playing with the somehow still functional radio.

- Preservation, Stray

B12 stared down at the box monitor that lay now shattered on the ground, unable to look away.

- The Frustration Memories Bring, Stray

She eased her eyes open, blinking as she realised this wasn’t where she fell asleep.

- Shiny Legends: A Strange Realm, Pokemon LA

Irida had first heard of him through the stories children had told.

- A Leader’s Choice, Pokemon LA

Snow crunched beneath his shoes and his breath came out as visible puffs of air.

- Son of the Devourer, Ninjago

That’s it for my published fics, so here’s some from the wips sitting in google docs:

Luke walked back up the stairs and got into their temporary room before Mr Wright could see him.

- On the Subject of Death, Professor Layton vs Phoenix Wright

Burning, standing in the beam felt like he was standing in fire.

- Shattered Future, Professor Layton

Making a tunnel like this, especially one that needed to go unnoticed, was far from the easiest thing in the world.

- Semi-Successful Save, Professor Layton

Desmond had been pacing for what felt like hours now, his cape catching wind from how rigid his turns were.

- Identity Reveal (working title), Professor Layton

Emmy revved her scooters engine, zipping around cars and ignoring the beeps and shouts as she broke what was probably multiple road laws.

- Pandora’s Call, Professor Layton

Sammy’s life had its ups and downs.

- 5 times Sammy gets spooked by the spirit + 1 time he spooks the spirit, Professor Layton

Hershel stared blankly at the wall of his current hospital room.

- Surprise Visitor, Professor Layton

Hershel groaned, an ache had settled all over his body and a migraine was making itself known.

- Another Way Around, Professor Layton

As the last of the Neurotox fog disappeared into the vinedrill flowers, the stone statues turned back into people.

- New Teammate: Blite, Slugterra

“Looks like this is the end for you, Inspector.”

- Saving Vergier (working title), Rhythm Thief

Jesse lunged forward, striking her blade against her target.

- Scattered Feathers, Mcsm

Another prison spider turned to dust beneath her blade, far from the first and far from the last.

- The Escape, Mcsm

And that’s makes 17! Not quite 20 but eh close enough. Congrats if you made it this far.

I’d say for patterns I’ve noticed, I’m practically married to overusing commas- though it’s fun to write like that. Also most of my stories contain a large does of angst and/or confusion for the characters in the story.

Quite a few of these start with the POV character’s name or pronoun, only one of them starting with dialogue. The ones that start with neither tend to start with an action instead.

Most of it is Professor Layton, but that’s understandable since it’s my current interest and I have a lot of Au ideas for it. As for other fandoms, we’ve got Stray, Ninjago, Slugterra, Rhythm Thief and Mcsm.

Most of these are also oneshots, only seven are chaptered and one of those seven is a 5 things + 1 thing format.

A lot of these are currently on pause, but most of the Professor Layton ones I’m in the process of writing (Shattered future is almost on chapter 3) so we’ll see if any of them end up getting published.

This was quite fun to do, thank you for tagging me!

[lemonadearchived]

🍋 OPEN ABRAHAM STARTER

OPEN TO: f / nb PROMPT: it’s an ungodly hour and abe has just returned home from an under-the-table business deal at the auction house. he’s trying to unwind in his study, thinking that everyone has long gone to sleep. CONNECTIONS: tab*o, stepc*st, wife, one of his children’s girlfriends, live-in maid, babysitter etc.

Nothing goes down quite as smooth as an aged scotch after a particularly grueling day. He’s just now started to settle into the comfort of his own home, tucked away in his study with the fireplace roaring and the classic rock of his youth playing more like white noise in the background than anything else. It’s not as loud as he’d like, but it will do. Abraham can’t be too cautious with so many people in his house, big as it is. He doesn’t want to attract attention, he just wants to sink into his leather seat and let his mind wander. his hands too. They work at the buckle of his belt and the button of his trousers, pulling his semi-hard length from his pants. A drawn-out sigh escapes him as he strokes himself to full rigidity. He’s built up a nice, steady rhythm when the creaking of his study door alerts him that he’s not alone. His entire body tenses, head snapping toward the noise. “Is someone there?”

[belit0]

Caught in the Act

sharinganslut

can you like have madara ruining your shit and tobirama and hashirama come in and catch you (female reader) thank you i’m just a slut😀 and fuck anon i want people to know i’m horny

We are all horny ppl when it comes to the Uchiha. I fucking support you a lot, I’m like that but with Indra

Rating: E

Pairing: [Uchiha Madara / Fem Reader]

Additional Characters: [Senju Hashirama] [Senju Tobirama]

Tw: Domination, Degrading, Roughness, Some Praising

“Tell me why do I have to be here when this is a favor requested of you?

"Because if I have to suffer Hashirama’s lack of intellect, you as my lover will too. Now find that man’s fucking coat so he can stop bothering me.”

It’s nothing new to witness the leader of the Senju lose and forget his Hokage dressing gown, but it’s something that always causes great annoyance to the leader of the Uchiha. Outraged at his old friend’s lack of responsibility, when Hashirama asks him to help find it for him, Madara only avoids exploding in the air because he knows it’s a good excuse to spend time with you and not working.

“I could be taking a nap at home… Or having some sweet jasmine tea while thinking about the beautiful face you make when you get angry… Maybe even eating something while I remember your muscles on me and- ”

“You’re walking on thin ice, [Y/N]. Shut up and look.”

With a tense posture, Madara passed by you, heading to check out the different rooms of his best friend’s house. Imitating his action, you took a different route from him, and searched the other end of the big building.

Sliding the door of Hashirama’s main room, you hit the target first. On the large two-person bed, stretched out, red and immaculate, lay that piece of cloth that gave reason to your lover’s grumpiness.

Entering the bedroom, you slid your hand over the material, feeling the softness in your fingertips. A mischievous urge attacked your mind, and a great idea to provoke Madara suddenly struck you.

Quickly, to prevent him from catching you in the act, you put on the Hokage garment, which was considerably large. Hashirama was monstrously tall, so the cloth touched the floor and dragged over it when you slid it over your shoulders.

Laughing weakly, you looked at yourself in the mirror on one of the walls, and found that the cloth was not at all flattering in your form. Even more tempted, you tried to keep your composure, and prepared for the stampede that would come upon you in a minute.

“Dear! I found it! But there’s something wrong with it, hurry up up and come have a look!”

After a second, you heard Madara’s footsteps approaching the room where you were, and the anticipation in your chest began to grow. Suddenly, you regretted your stupid joke a little. Walking down the corridor, you heard him talking, without even reaching the door.

“What do you mean by something wrong? If you did something to that damn piece of trash I swear that-”

Posing, you surprised him with a… great… idea. With both arms in the air and over your head, you put on the best smile of satisfaction that your features could have had at his reaction, and despite the growing anxiety in your stomach about his glance, you rejoiced for a second in the situation.

Yes, one second.

From the door frame, the Uchiha was paralyzed by the image you offered to him. His eyes had quickly changed from a deep black colour to a bright red, with an unnerving dancing pattern in them, characteristic of Mangekyōu.

His shoulders were stiff in their stance, his chest was forced up and down by clearly strained breathing, his biceps were increasingly inflated with every second that passed thanks to the two fists he held tightly on either side of his body.

His hair began to bristle, and the tension in the air became extremely heavy. Not brave enough to speak or look him in the eye, you put your hands together in front of your legs, bent your shoulders and your head. Reducing your size as much as possible, as if trying to make yourself invisible to Madara’s terrifying gaze, you waited for the inevitable.

With the voice that made your blood run cold and your hair stand on end, he spoke, intimidating from across the room.

“What… are you… doing… with… that…”

“I-I-”

A grunt erupted from his chest, deep and serious, animalistic, making you exult when it hit your ears. Without courage, you continued to stare at the ground.

“That… belongs… to him.”

You nodded, hoping that your good behavior would calm the beast in front of you.

“You… are… not… his…”

Another nod.

“So, tell me… WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT?”

“I-IM S-SORRY-Y”

“Look at me.”

Trembling and in your reduced form, you raised your head reluctantly, staring at those terrifying red orbs. Suddenly, all you wanted to do was take off that dressing gown once and for all, show Madara that it was a foolish mistake.

“Who is your owner?”

“Madara-Sama.”

You said it without hesitation, quickly after his question, which generated a slight smile of satisfaction on the Uchiha’s face. Crossing his arms over his chest and looking at you over his nose, he continued.

“Are you mine, or are you his [Y/N]?

"I am all yours Madara-Sama.”

“Kneel before me.”

“Look what a pathetic bitch you are, dressed in that shit, taking my orders without a problem… Tell me [Y/N] Why should I fuck you right now?”

Knowing your man’s habits, you answered.

“Because I’m a stupid little whore who needs your cock right here, right now. Please Madara-Sama, don’t deny it to me, I need you inside my tight pussy.

"Oh well, really? If my slut is so desperate for my dick, you leave me no choice but to give you what you ask for.”

“Please sir.”

“Come here.”

On all fours, knowing what turns him on, you crawled to his feet, where you sat back on your knees and looked at him from below.

“Use your filthy little mouth.”

Obeying his orders, you rose to the height of his hips. Biting the waist of his trousers, you captured the cloth between your teeth, and with experience you lowered it strongly to his ankles.

“What a talented little pup, an expert in doing everything without hands… Go on”

Smiling slightly at his compliment, you repeated the action, but in his underwear, revealing a semi-erect limb, which promised to harden with little effort.

“No hands, or I’ll have to take them off.”

Faced with Madara’s threat, you understood that it was better to stick to his rule than to challenge him, and you introduced his penis into your mouth, maneuvering your head at a strange angle.

Working at a steady pace, his member became rigid in a matter of a couple humid strokes and your task became easier. Moaning at the situation generated by a foolish prank, you devoured your man’s cock with hunger.

After a few minutes in the same rhythm, Madara needed a speed boost, and he grabbed your hair. Combing it into his grip while breathing heavily thanks to your supplies, he held it with one of his big hands, forming a ponytail. With the new security of the hairstyle, he was able to use your hair as a handle to press your head harder against his length. As your nose hit his pelvis and your throat begged for a break, you placed both hands on his thighs, trying to free yourself from his hold.

At that moment, he stopped all activity dead on, but did not allow you to free your mouth. Even with his limb inside your moist cavity, he moved away from you a little to stop the pressure at the bottom of your throat, and spoke.

“I said without hands [Y/N]… Did your hunger for my dick cloud your mind? No problem, I told you that I would take care of it if necessary.”

Without further ado, he took your wrists and held them above your head, fully stretching your arms. Releasing your hair, he gave you the freedom to move as you wished, but now your upper limbs were minutes away from losing circulation and falling asleep, which was a big pain in the ass.

Because that’s what Madara is really like, a big, big pain in the ass.

Taking up your task, you put your best effort to make him cum just with your mouth. Moaning over his member, your pussy was dripping from him to hear him talk, on the verge of his orgasm.

“Oh [Y/N] don’t you dare stop, keep it up, you beautiful obedient whore. Eat my whole cock like it’s all you need, I want to fill that naughty little slut’s mouth with all my cum”.

“Agh… -gasp- [Y/N] -gasp- I’m… I’m…”

A shot of hot liquid hit the bottom of your throat, while you felt his limb throbbing inside your cavity. Swallowing everything he had to offer, you dutifully waited for his release to end.

“What a good puppy… I think you’ve earned the benefit of being rewarded. Take it all off.”

With a broad smile coming from his compliments, you did what he asked, standing completely naked in front of him.

“Put Hashirama’s coat back on.”

Without wanting to contradict him and make him angry again, you took the garment from the floor and dressed it on your naked body, looking at him with curious and expectant eyes.

“In bed, lying on your stomach.”

Putting yourself in the right position, you waited.

“Show me that beautiful ass of mine, rise it up.”

Following his demand, and with your stomach still leaning on the bed, you positioned your legs over your knees, providing an easy entrance for Madara. What you did not expect, is that the Uchiha would continue with his jealousy whim.

Taking Hashirama’s gown in both hands, he tore a hole where your cunt was, accessing it through the fabric instead of removing it from your body.

“MADARA! WE ARE SUPPOSED TO TAKE THIS TO HASHIR- ”

Two fingers were inserted mercilessly inside you without warning, moving towards a specific point that made you moan suddenly.

“You will not say another man’s name when you are giving yourself to me you naughty whore.”

An overpowering spanking hit your skin covered by cloth, making your whole being vibrate.

“Tell me [Y/N], tell me whose pussy is this.”

“…M-Mad-dara’s!”

A third finger entered you, moving at an overwhelming frequency. A second spanking hit your buttock before he spoke again.

“You don’t sound very convinced… I’m going to ask you again. Who is the owner of this pathetic little cunt?”

“MADARA-SAMA!”

His tongue attacked your slit for a few long seconds, before inserting his fingers back into you accompanied by more spanking.

“PLEASE MADARA I BEG YOU.”

“What is it [Y/N]? What does my slut want?”

“I NEED YOUR COCK INSIDE ME, DON’T TEASE ME ANYMORE, PLEAHHHG… -gasp-”

He got into you firmly, using your fluids as sufficient lubrication to slide in. Hashirama’s coat soon found itself soaked in the body liquids flowing from the union between the two bodies, with the hole in the fabric being the main factor in allowing penetration.

Lost in the pleasure of both, drowning in moaning and heat, neither of you noticed when the front door opened and closed, when footsteps sounded down the hall, or when two pairs of curious and surprised eyes stopped to look at the scene unfolding before them.

“M-Madara?”

The Uchiha slammed on the brakes, being able to recognize that voice anywhere. Not coming out of you, he faced the gaze of Hashirama and Tobirama.

Understanding the situation, you refused to face those men, and hid your face in your arms and the leftover cloth, holding your eyes and hoping that the shame would soon be over.

“This… well…"

Without noticing it, his pelvis moved involuntarily towards you, hitting a spot with his member just inside you and making you moan in front of the two brothers.

Tobirama blushed completely, coughing uncomfortably and looking away, while Hashirama seemed not to care at all.

"Is that my dressing gown?

"Yes… we found it…”

“Oh well… oh well… I’ll send you the ticket later… Shall we go Tobi?”

“But brother! They are using your bed, they broke your clothes, they desecrate your room! You should say something to that damn Uchiha instead of…”

A growl of fury escaped from inside Madara, who was still inside you, when Hashirama interrupted before a fight broke out.

“Now, now, Tobi, you’ll understand when you stop being a virgin… come on, there’s a new tea shop I’m really dying to try!”

“HASHIRAMA!”

The front door soon opened and closed again, and at the same time, Madara took his overwhelming step over you, thanking his beautiful friendship with Hashi from the heart.

[moonflowerlesbians]

41 and 45 please. Just can't get enough of your stories

first of all you're so sweet 🥺 second, I did these and I batched in another one for a longer story and the obligatory soft nightmare fic, so I hope that's okay :)

18. "I'm embarrassed." "Don't be." 41. "Is that my shirt?" "Is...is that okay?" 45. "Don't say anything. Just...just lay here with me."

cw for mentions of child abuse

~~~

The motel bed is empty when Dani drifts awake, feeling in the dark for the warm mass that indicates Jamie is sound asleep beside her. Instead, empty air and rumpled sheets greet her, and she frowns. Still lingering in that semi-sweet state of half-consciousness, somewhere between dream and reality, she registers the shadow of the bathroom light through the crack in the door, which stands slightly agape.

Ah.

She rolls over, tugging the duvet over her exposed arms and sparing a quick glance at the clock on the nightstand 3:27 a.m., it reads. Dani yawns and readjusts the pillow supporting her neck. The doctor had said it would help with the stiffness in her shoulders and upper back in the morning, said she had a tendency to sleep curled up like she was protecting herself. Unsurprising, she had thought at the time.

Long minutes pass, faint moonlight trickling through sheer curtains to adorn the carpeted floors with tigerstripes of silver and blue. Dani rolls over again, flipping onto her stomach, her arm coming to rest alongside her head. Jamie’s pillow remains vacant. Dani sighs.

The floor is bracing beneath her bare feet, and she recoils, suddenly regretting the decision to leave the relative warmth of the blankets. Steeling herself, she pads across the room. Dim light filters under the bathroom door, and she can make out muted noises from within.

“Hey,” Dani says quietly, giving the wood three light raps with her knuckles. “You okay?” The noises stop.

“’M fine,” Jamie’s voice comes muffled through the door. “Y’can go back to bed.”

Another night, maybe, Dani would have listened. Another time, perhaps, if she had not spent weeks, months, learning the intricacies and peculiarities of Jamie’s vocal pattern, Dani would have returned to the comfort of their queen bed and fallen back into a pleasant sleep. At another time, maybe, Dani would have ignored the hoarseness of Jamie’s voice, the sandpaper-rough scratch of the syllables against her throat, the subtle distress cloaked in a layer of false nonchalance.

Dani rests her forehead against the cool wood, the metal of the doorknob in one hand. “Can I come in?”

Silence, for a moment, then shuffling. The click of an unlatched lock. “Yeah.”

She inches the door open. Jamie sits on the floor of the bathtub, knees drawn up to her chest. Strands of brown hair are sweat-matted to her forehead, others sticking up haphazardly, streaked through with shaky finger lines. Grey eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, with a tired stare that wrenches at Dani’s heart.

“You got room in there for one more?” Dani says gently, crossing to crouch on the tile floor.

Jamie breathes shakily. “Sure.” She slides to make room for Dani, who sits cross-legged, her knees bent at a slightly awkward angle due to the nature of the tub. From this new perspective, she can see the piece of fabric balled tight between Jamie’s thighs and her chest.

“Is that my shirt?”

Jamie swallows, a flash of alarm flickering across her features, and her voice is small, so small and so, so frail. “Is... is that okay?”

Dani’s brow furrows. “No, um, yes, yeah, that’s... that’s okay.”

Jamie mumbles something that Dani doesn’t quite catch.

“Sorry?”

“Was in the dirty pile, so I thought... Doesn’t matter. Should’ve asked.” She can’t quite meet Dani’s gaze, and she’s gripping the lilac sweater so hard her knuckles have gone white.

“No, it’s okay. It’s fine,” Dani says, trying her very best to sound reassuring and not as though she’s talking to a cornered animal.

Jamie has not been forthcoming when it comes to information about herself, not since the night before... well. It has been nearly four months since leaving Bly, and Dani feels a bit like an archaeologist, uncovering fragments of a broken past little by little. Some days, she finds nothing, not even an arrowhead, something to point her in the right direction. Other days, it is as if she discovers a bit of parchment thought lost to civilization, a scrap of knowledge to help translate the whole. A perfectly preserved piece of Jamie in the form of a passport, a solitary photograph from a time Jamie no longer speaks of, the dogeared pages of a beat-up paperback.

“Do you think,” Dani begins, cautious, slow, “you could tell me...why?” There is an out she leaves. A minute shake of Jamie’s head, and she would back away, drop the subject at her feet for another day.

Jamie peers at her through clumped lashes. “Which bit?” She asks with a sardonic sort of chuckle, swiping at her nose. “The bit about your jumper or the bit about being a blubbering mess at three in the goddamn mornin’.”

“Both, if you’re up for it.”

Jamie studies her, blinking in the hazy light as though searching for something, like she expects Dani to laugh as if she’s the butt of a sorry joke.

“Yeah,” she says at last, “yeah, okay.” She takes a shuddering breath. “Told you ‘bout bein’ in the system, foster and prison, yeah?”

Dani watches her intently, hands in her lap, an expression of concern firmly situated on her face. She nods, though she knows only the bare minimum. They skirt precariously around the topic when it comes up.

The extent of her knowledge comes from studying Jamie’s reactions to her environment. The way she shirks from loud noises. The clatter of plates breaking in a restaurant, an engine backfiring in an alley. The way she scans every room before she enters, eyes lingering on corners and curtains, and checks the backseat of their rental car. The way she hoards buttons and pop tabs and coins at the bottom of her suitcase, and the way she methodically counts her things before they leave any motel and recounts them when they arrive at their destination.

Habits formed out of necessity in a life of cruelty, a life in which letting her guard down could mean the difference between life and death. A life she no longer lives, but a life that stays with her all the same.

“Had a dream,” Jamie says carefully, her voice almost too loud in the stillness of the morning, “Hardly remember the details now, but... Think I was in my third home. Fourth, maybe. The dad was a drunk. You could always smell it on his breath. Heavy footsteps you could hear coming.” She glances at Dani. “I couldn’t hear him this time. I think he threw a bottle at me, not sure, though. I couldn’t move, couldn’t yell, couldn’t fight back.” Her chest heaves, and Dani reaches out, then thinks better of it. She retracts her hand, leaving it palm-up on her knee for Jamie to take if she chooses.

“Hate being trapped,” she whispers, eyes darting around the bathroom, “Spent too long in places I couldn’t get out of.” She tentatively takes Dani’s hand, still avoiding eye contact. “I woke up ‘n still couldn’t breathe. Didn’t want to wake you up, so I came here.” She fiddles with the tag on Dani’s sweater, murmuring, “It’s not the same, but it was close enough. Smells enough like you that I could pretend.” At last, she looks up, waterline shining with unshed tears. “Bloody embarrassing.”

“Oh, baby...” Dani croons softly, squeezing her outstretched hand. “Can I... Is it okay if I hold you?”

Jamie sniffles, but nods her assent with a heavy sigh. Dani shifts so that she’s reclining against the slope of the tub, with Jamie comfortably settled between her legs, curled on her side, with her head on Dani’s chest. The sweater is pressed between them, the material grasped tightly in Jamie’s fist.

Dani weaves her fingers through the hair at the nape of Jamie’s neck, lightly scratching her scalp with blunt nails. Jamie shivers at the contact.

“’M embarrassed,” Jamie mumbles into the bunched fabric of Dani’s pajama top.

“Don’t be,” Dani says simply, her head resting on the white shower tile. She cannot tell if the flush rising to Jamie’s cheeks is because of the sweater or waking up in the middle of the night or both, and frankly, Dani decides, it does not matter.

It’s unusual, seeing Jamie like this. Vulnerable. Raw. Dani can count the number of times she’s seen Jamie cry on two fingers.

Once, in the aftermath of the lake, they had held each other close in the lamplight of Dani’s bedroom at Bly and wept for all that had happened and all they had lost, great heaving sobs that tore through walls and rafters and flesh and bone.

The second time, just now, with Jamie trembling in her arms.

She takes such measures to remain steadfast, resolute in her dependability, all hard angles and rigidity. A suave exterior carefully constructed to deter those who would attempt to breach her defenses. Cannons on the parapet he keeps loaded with snark and bite and sturdy shoes, ready to flee at the first sign of danger.

She had opened up to Dani, though, a privilege Dani does not vilipend. Took the risk and raised the portcullis to allow Dani to pass through to the inner walls, closer to the center, but not quite there. There was more to discover, Dani knew then and knows now, but patience is vital. Stability. The reassurance that she means no harm.

“Can...Why’d you think you needed my permission?” Dani clarifies, “For my sweater.” Jamie stirs against her, the weight warm and familiar.

“Don’t take things without asking,” Jamie recites despondently, and the weight of the statement catches Dani off-guard. The resignation in her tone, the rhythm of the words are indicative of a phrase spoken over and over again, well-worn and thoroughly beaten into the track of her mind.

(Perhaps, Dani fears in some dark corner of herself, it was not only Jamie’s mind. She thinks of trainers with holes in the sole, bits of cheese swiped from the refrigerator and promptly hidden, and wonders about a little girl left with no one but herself and callous adults who neglect and belittle.)

Dani finds herself shaking her head.

“It’s okay,” she says into the crown of Jamie’s head, her breath rustling wayward strands. “I mean, I’d appreciate a heads up if you want to borrow something of mine just so I don’t think something’s gone missing, but for this?” She pauses, choking on an inconvenient swell of emotion. “God, please, take it. Or wake me up or something, but... you’re not alone.”

Jamie is still, her breath coming in slow, measured puffs against Dani’s chest.

Dani tries, “Most of my stuff isn’t really your style, anyway. Not that I think you couldn’t rock a pink turtleneck.” She considers. “Actually, I’d kind of like to see that.”

The mental picture earns her a wet laugh from Jamie, and that is enough for now, Dani thinks.

“But, you know, if this happens again -- you wake up in the middle of the night -- please, wake me up, too, okay?”

“Still getting used to you, ‘s’all.”

“I know, baby, I know.”

They lay there in the bottom of the questionable motel bathtub until the quiver of Jamie’s shoulders recedes into a steady enough rhythm, in time with the rise and fall of Dani’s chest.

“Come on,” Dani nudges, “think you want to get back in bed?”

“Shit,” Jamie jolts upwards, taking them both by surprise, “God, sorry. Sorry. I’ve kept you up long enough.”

“No, no,” Dani assures, running a hand along Jamie’s upper arm, “I just thought the mattress might be more comfortable for you than I am.”

“Unlikely,” Jamie scrutinizes. She rubs her eyes once more and climbs out of the tub, offering a hand for Dani to lift herself up, which proves more difficult than anticipated on account of Dani’s leg having fallen asleep. She wraps an arm around Jamie’s waist, separating for an instant to nestle beneath cool sheets, then finding each other again.  

“Sorry,” Jamie says to the darkness, the hum of the radiator providing the rattling soundtrack to her unnecessary apology.

“Shh,” Dani soothes, her nails spelling out words from covert languages on the skin of Jamie’s back, “Don’t say anything. Just… just lay here with me. We’ll talk in the morning.” Jamie’s grip tightens on her shirt. “Try to get some rest, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

She brushes the ghost of a kiss along Jamie’s hairline, smoothing down the wisps that tickle her nose.

4:14 a.m., the clock reads.

Dani does not close her eyes until she feels Jamie’s muscles slacken, the tension leaching away into cotton and dream. Then, and only then, does she allow sleep to claim her.

[heroloverangel]

Feels Like Home (3/3)

Y’all already know exactly what this is. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Chapter 3: Missed You

"I missed you so much."

Mirio’s voice is muted against your throat as he continues his job of covering every exposed bit of your skin in kisses. You can’t help but smile and run a hand through his hair, every bit as happy to be reunited as your boyfriend. It’s only been a few weeks since his mission, but it feels like you’ve spent months apart and you’re both eager to make up for lost time.

You pull him off your neck to meet his lips instead. “Me too. It’s been so lonely in this big bed.”

“I can fix that.” He works a hand under the familiar sweatshirt beneath him, revealing a fresh inch of your stomach above your leggings. “My clothes look so much better on you,” he points out, pushing up the shirt you’d stolen from his closet months ago. His fingers are warm on your skin as he shoves the fabric up higher over your chest. You squirm out of it and he pauses above you, taking a second to admire your body after being denied so long. “Actually, they look better off of you,” he jokes, tracing his lips over your collarbone.

It’s difficult, trying to get him out of his own shirt when all his attention is so spectacularly distracting. You have to wait for him to break away for a breath of air before you’re able to tug it over his head, but you’re rewarded with the sight of those amazing muscles he’s worked so hard for. It’s a welcome reminder that, despite everything, Mirio is still the strongest person you know. Pulling him down against you, you bask in the feel of his warm body, raw power under your fingertips as you run them over his back. “I’m so glad you’re back,” you say, unable to find the words to accurately express your overwhelming happiness.

His smile is dazzling. “You know I couldn’t stay away for long. I’d go crazy!” His fingers grip at your thigh to spread your legs open more and press against you, and you can feel the rigid shape of his erection through the layers of fabric between you. The shuddery little gasp slips out of your mouth thoughtlessly, and he groans in response. “Babe, I wanna touch you so much right now. You wanna help me get these off?” He pinches the stretchy material of your leggings and lets it snap back into place for emphasis. You’re more than happy to obey, wiggling them past your hips before letting him yank them down your legs. It’s almost surprising that you only hear one seam rip in his haste to get them off of you. “Wow,” he murmurs as he takes in the sight of you stripped to your underwear. “I think you got even prettier while I was gone.”

You meet your boyfriend’s gaze, too sweet for his own good, and somehow you manage to fall more in love with him. One large hand runs up your side to settle on your bra strap; he pulls it aside and trails kisses along your shoulder as he goes. You work your arm out of it and he switches to show the same devotion to your other shoulder. “Hey, can you…” you’re on the same page and reach behind you for the hooks before he can finish asking. His hands are back on you in a moment, ignoring the familiar sound of your bra being flung across the room with too much excitement and smacking into the wall.

“God, I love your chest,” he murmurs, cupping your breasts without mercy. “You’re so nice and soft and squishy.” He squeezes them firmly and you sigh with satisfaction. “Your nipples are so cute, babe.”

He pauses, the two of you stare at each other for a beat, and then both of you dissolve into laughter. It’s just such an endearingly random, cheesy, Mirio thing to say that you can’t help it. “Sorry, sorry!” His grin is unyielding even as he kisses you again. You run your fingers down his body, appreciating every curve and dip of his firm muscles. Your touch stutters at the feel of the large, unfamiliar scar marring his perfect abs and you gently trace over it. “Don’t worry about it, it looks worse than it is-”

“I’m proud of you,” you whisper, lips following a path along his cheek and jaw. “You’re incredible, Mirio. I have to be the luckiest person on the planet to have you.” You expect him to eat up your compliment like candy, but he just shakes his head. 

“No way, princess. I think we’re just about even on that.” Your heart melts at the sound of his cute little laugh and he returns to the important task of fondling you. Strong hands grope at your breasts, pinching and teasing your nipples hard. You squirm under him, occupying your own fingers with running through his golden hair as he nips at your skin and leaves a mark on your neck. “You make the sweetest noise when I tease you like this.” You let out a little whine when his tongue flicks across a nipple and you bring him closer to take it into his mouth. His name comes out as a needy gasp, familiar tension coiling inside you. “See?” he releases you with a satisfyingly wet sound to focus on your other side. “Baby, you’re adorable.”

You’re so warm, heat prickling along your spine and sweat coating your body by the time he’s done. You pull him up for another kiss, happy to let his tongue slip into your mouth and prove how eager he still is to please you. You drag impatient fingers down his torso, reaching for his zipper and he catches your point, taking over for you and shoving his jeans off. Firm thighs press against your softer ones and you feel his cock twitch beneath his underwear, only a few thin layers away from where you want him most.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he breathes in your ear, tracing the curve of your side. “Your stomach’s so cute. And I love your hips, I missed grabbing on them. And man, your ass is just…” he lifts you up a bit to squeeze at it and his words devolve into an appreciative groan. “I can’t get over these thighs, either.” He massages at your inner thighs, coaxing them further apart and eyeing the obvious damp spot of your panties. Mirio licks his lips at the sight, taking the opportunity to rub you through the damp fabric. Immediately you grind yourself against his hand, desperate for his touch after your unplanned hiatus. “I thought about you, every night I was gone.” He smirks at you, eyes warm with affection and without further delay he’s tugging your panties off. You don’t need much foreplay tonight, you’re plenty wound up for him already, but when he slides two fingers inside your pussy you can’t help but cry out in relief. This is where he belongs: in bed with you, kissing you, touching you, fucking you until everyone else on the floor knows how much he loves you. 

It’s almost embarrassing how fast he can get you off. His fingers scissor inside you, opening you for him, stroking at your walls as his thumb ghosts over your clit. It’s exactly what you need but you grip his wrist to stop. “Mirio, no. Not yet. I...I want to come with you inside me.” Your boyfriend pauses then withdraws, licking his lips when his eyes meet yours. He takes a deep breath to steady himself and nods.

“Fuck, I want it too. More than anything.” He moves quickly, shorts coming off to reveal his dick, hard and ready for you like always. You take him in your hand, throbbing in your palm as you guide him into position. Mirio gives you another long kiss before his hips press forward and he’s finally entering you. “Babe, you’re perfect.”

Neither of you have patience for a slow buildup tonight. He shows enough restraint to ease himself into you over several thrusts, but once he’s fully sheathed inside your cunt his willpower quickly crumbles. “You’re squeezing me so tight,” he groans, rutting deep against you to enjoy how nice you feel wrapped around him. “I really, really love you.”

“Y-you too,” you manage out, gripping his broad shoulders like a lifeline. You’re in heaven underneath him, fixated on the movements of his amazing body and incredibly grateful to have him again. Of course you hadn’t been completely unfulfilled during your time apart, the toys in your bedside drawer made sure of that. But you’ve become spoiled from your relationship, and nothing compares to the feel of your boyfriend’s thick cock stretching you open and pleasing you better than anything else could. His pace speeds up, pelvis rubbing teasingly against your clit with every move and you find yourself at your limit already, only a few wonderful minutes after you began. There’s no attempt to keep quiet when you call out his name, moaning about how good he feels as your pussy milks him for more. He reaches his own climax soon after, your blissed out mind only semi-aware of the excessively wet sensation of his cum flooding into you.

His rhythm stills and he slips out of you, but the look on his face promises that he’s far from done with you. “I needed that,” he admits, voice low and husky with untamed arousal. “I needed you,” he corrects himself, and then his lips are all over you. You’re smothered in kisses, all across your face and shoulders, peppering your neck and moving down to your breasts once more. He sucks at your nipples again, your hips bucking faintly at the stimulation. There’s a glint of mischief in his eye and he slips a hand between your sweaty bodies to begin roughly massaging your clit. You’ve hardly recovered from your first orgasm and he’s already threatening to send you into another one. You make a sound of complaint but he shushes you. “You’re so good to me, I gotta make you feel even better. Just let me take care of you, okay?”

You can’t argue with that, all you can do is lie back and enjoy his affection. Your clit twitches at the unyielding motion of his fingers, almost too sensitive to stand it. Mirio offers you that trademark big, friendly smile before catching you off-guard and clamping his his teeth sharply around your nipple. Your voice comes out in a ragged gasp, nails sinking into his strong back as your resolve snaps. You writhe against him, choking on air and ignoring the sound of his cheerful voice showering you in nonstop praise and love.

He’s kind enough to wait for you to fully rebound this time, only stroking his hands lightly across your heated skin. Eventually you start touching him back, signaling that you’re ready for more, and he’s more than willing to continue. Dick almost painfully hard after your little show, he rubs it between your silky folds and coats himself in your combined fluids. “No more teasing,” you whine pitifully and he agrees. 

You’re soaked, your body giving no resistance to him sliding back in, cunt taking all of him in one smooth thrust. “You’re so wet for me, sweetheart. You feel amazing.” He holds himself up over you so he can see how you pant and squirm for him, watching with interest as a bead of sweat drips down your skin. He cages you between his arms and it feels right; being surrounded and filled by him is overwhelming in the best way possible. “I love you,” he growls out yet again, leaning down until your foreheads almost touch. “I love you so much. I don’t ever wanna leave again, I can’t get enough of you.” You struggle to keep up with him, overstimulated body trying its best to match his pace even as his hips begin to stutter and his movements grow sloppier.

You trail your nails along his strong back, coaxing him further. “You’re gonna make me come again, baby. You’re so great, Mirio. He draws out and thrusts back in hard, and your legs lock around his hips like a vise. “Oh, god, that’s good. You reach for him, cupping his face in your smaller hands to meet his gaze. “You take such good care of me,” you coo softly, enjoying the dark blush splashed across his flushed cheeks. “My big, strong hero. You’re so fucking cute-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence. You find yourself happily interrupted by your own name, loud and ragged in your ear, then he buries his face against your neck in a too-late attempt to stay quiet. A heartbeat later he finishes, cock throbbing deep inside and pumping you full of your perfect boyfriend’s thick, sticky cum. The added sensation is enough to bring you to the edge, and when his lips seal over your throat to suck a hickey into your skin it’s all over for you. Your pussy clenches around him tight and you squeal, much too loud in the small room but you’re far past the point of caring. “You’re so goddamn beautiful like this,” he tells you, voice still breathy and wearing an expression of pure devotion as he stares down at you.

The two of you take a few minutes to relax, Miro’s head coming to rest at it’s favorite spot on your chest and you play with his disheveled hair. “Welcome home, love,” you mutter, he only laughs and flashes you that brilliant smile. Eventually you separate, Mirio just a little too eager to help clean you up to be considered entirely innocent, and you take notice of the time. “It’s already after nine, we missed dinner.” You sit up more to look for your clothes and think up a game plan. “You start back to class tomorrow. Come on, we better jump in the shower and then we can make something quick to eat.” He makes a sound of protest, tries to trap you in the bed but you wiggle out of his grasp. “Don’t complain,” you pull your leggings back on, not bothering to find your discarded panties. “Everyone should be out of the showers by now, so we can take one together.” You’re not surprised that he immediately perks up, no doubt imagining another round and you can’t say he’s wrong.

You lose sight of him, distracted while you slip his hoodie over your bare torso. He moves fast even after all that activity, and you’re pulled into a bear hug before you even get your arms through the sleeves. You snuggle against his warm chest and he lets out a happy sigh. 

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am. About what?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love my old man and it was fine back at our house...” You manage to free your hands only to have them captured by his own. “But it’s just not the same anymore. Being here, with you, though. That’s what feels like home now.” It’s silent in his room for a second and he lets out a small laugh. “That sounded really corny, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, it did.” Gently, you free your arms from his grasp and wrap them around his waist, holding him just as strongly. “But you’re right; you feel like home to me, too.”

In all the time you’ve known Mirio, you’ve never seen him look this happy.

[jjkpls]

Whole Lotta Love (m)

> genre : smut, pwp

> pairing : kim taehyung x reader (f) x jeon jungkook

> total words : 2.8k

> warnings/content : friends to lovers, threesome i guess, exhibitionism/voyeurism themes, some dirty talk, penetrative intercourse, bad editing

There are the drums, getting beaten so hard the whole world is shaking, tectonic plates disrupted and volcanos awoke. And the guitars, the hundred of electric guitars’ cords abused by the most passionate fingers, screeching and thundering blaring so strong it’s like they’re trying to frighten Zeus.

You want to believe that it’s just the music. That it’s so loud, louder than anything you've ever heard, painful and mindblowing in the scariest yet most delicious and memorable way. You’ve never heard that before. You’ve never experienced that kind of insanity. That’s why your body struggles to handle it. Trying to make-do, improvise with the information received while keeping the most of your body intact, making sure your eardrums, eyes, brains and everything else just don’t explode and shatter to pieces right there. And even though you thought about it so long and hard, trying to picture what it would be like, a dream born in a psychotic imagination. A dream of the loudest concert ever: hundreds of guitars, drums, basses and voices, all playing the same tune. It's still unexpected, unbelievable. You couldn't have imagined it to be like that.

Now your body is left to extemporize and lags a bit. Coping via manifestations you’re not responsible for and can’t explain. That’s why your cunt is clenching around nothing, clitoris tingly each time you move your hips around and happen to squeeze your thighs a bit too close. You’re not turned into a fucking disturbing nymphomaniac pogoer for no other reasons than you being a slut, it’s something else. It’s too exciting, everything that’s happening in and outside of you, for you to care yet a little voice at the back of your head mumbles something about how maybe you should be concerned about your freakiness. Getting this horny in the middle of a dancing crowd at a concert. Could you actually come just from dancing to this performance orchestrated by the Devil?

Two large and warm hands grab your hips and drag you backwards. A semi-hard shaft pressed to your ass and a beer scented breath battling your cheek, sending a bunch of wild strands of hair away. When one of the hand slides further down your front, settling for your lower belly, you see the elegant thing, with the ridiculously long fingers adorned by the slenderest, most delicate pieces of jewellery and you smile in relief, knowing whose it is.

Taehyung follows your movement for a while, his front now clinging to your back like glue, his second arm, the one who’s kept fairly nice until now, slips around your middle to wrap itself right under your breasts where they can sit, making sure there is no way your bodies can separate. And then another song is played. It’s still one straight from the most epic rock n roll hits from the eighties, fast-paced and enraged in that particular fashion, with that sense of aiming to fuck with the world by making the most noise. But you find your body to still want to follow the beat lasciviously. You are aware of how offbeat you are but you're possessed and that’s just your body wanting to do its own thing now. You’d be embarrassed if it was not for Taehyung who now doesn’t simply match but enhances your languidness. His pressing his hand against your pelvis, the tip of his not so tiny pinky finger crushing your clit -though you don’t know if he knows it- as he intimates you the rhythm of your hips, grinding slowly his now fully erect cock against you. You’re singing in chorus with the singers, murmuring or yelling you’re not sure as the loudness is fucking deafening -and so is Taehyung even though you can’t hear his lovely gravelly voice, you can feel his chest rumbling against your back. You’re having the time of your life. You’ve reached a trance, an orgasmic nirvana. Taehyung is laughing along with you, holding you tighter and biting now and then your neck. It’s incredible. The best moment of your life and you want to cry when you think about how grateful and happy you are to share it with them.

Them. As in Taehyung and Jungkook. 

Turning your head to the side, where the latter should be standing, you find a group of cute girls with rainbow hairs instead. Your heart knocks furiously in your chest, panic over euphoria, as your eyes dance around in a frenzy only relaxing when they catch him, to your other side, slightly backed away. His eyes are closed from what you can tell, his head bobbing as all the pretty bits of his handsome face scrunch and frown over his tensed jaw. He’s wincing in that particular way people do when they’re getting blessed with good music. And seeing him agreeing with you on the magical performance you’re granted fills you with giddy happiness.

The thing is his stature looks so rigid. He, who likes to mess around with dancing since he’s been fifteen is standing buff and stiff on his strong legs, not hinting the least intent to move his hips or hands or about anything. You scowl. Displeased. You look around at the people surrounding you, all enjoying their time. Maybe he’s embarrassed? Because he’s more used to letting it go and letting the music possess his body when it’s a different genre of music. Maybe he feels a bit awkward in his sweatpants and Balenciaga sneakers, lost in a sea of long-bearded dudes with their big-exposed-bellies and sexy Mohawk chicks. Not really his crowd even though he appreciates all music and he had that emo punk phase in middle school. You’re upset and embarrassed for him, wanting him to have the freest and most shameless experience. The way Taehyung, rutting his hard cock against your ass, and you, letting your pussy drip along your inner thigh -you like to reassure yourself by silently pestering that it is sweat but you highly doubt it is- are doing. You even consider a trip back to the food truck to get him a beer, despite the hassle that it represents, but you then remember what he said earlier about not wanting to drink in an exposed environment -in other words, he can’t handle his alcohol and doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of strangers. 

Suddenly his eyes open wide and they focus right on your face. He looks, or more like observes, with an uncommon slitting on his usually endearingly round eyes. The muscles of his jaw twitch and clench a few times, his tongue presses the inside of his cheek and then his gaze, before diverting back to the giant screens projecting images of the musicians, twitches for a split second on yours and Taehyung’s attached bodies and it hits you. 

Of fucking course, he would feel uncomfortable. 

The three of you came here as a trio, beyond excited to share the probably most memorable concert of your lives. And then a few songs in, Taehyung and you are all over each other, dancing, getting to know each other’s private parts and he’s standing left alone in the back, seemingly long forgotten. Your heart aches as it contracts from the guilt. You reach for his hand which you wrap your own around, holding onto it as if your life depends on it. Which it does in a way. There’s no way you’ll enjoy this moment fully if you know your precious friend is not also having it. Just thinking about the past couple of songs you haven’t noticed anything brings an ugly shade over the bliss you were having so far. 

Jungkook lets himself dragged closer, shoulder bumping into Taehyung, looking all surprised and perplexed. You can tell from the straightening of his back to the return of his beautiful round eyes and the tight lip. You smile cheerfully, hoping your gleaming eyes will soften him down and it’s then, finally, that Taehyung realizes the exchange. His motions slow down as he focuses on the both of you trying to make out what he can of what has been going on. Perhaps it’s the desire to get back to the show, with you, that helps his loose brain work it out fast, in any case he's quick to manage to put the pieces together. He flashes an amused pout to Jungkook, before his hand -the one who’s been teasing your cunt for some time now- slides off of your body to wrap around his friend's nape. He forces his short nails in, scratches his scalp mouthing something that you can’t catch before he lets it fall to his ass which he pats affectionately a few times.

Things are settled. 

The show goes on. Taehyung wraps himself around you entirely, immersing himself back to that special zone, grinning to himself when he finds you there again. Jungkook seems less tense. At least his tongue is not poking threateningly the inside of his cheek. And his hand, no matter how slippery it gets from keeping it intertwined with yours, doesn’t let go. Now everything is perfect. There’s nothing you’d change and you enjoy this magical moment to its fullest. And sharing it with them. It feels surreal. Like a gift that you did not deserve. Undeserving but nevertheless greedy, you latch on it, feasting and bathing in this instant because you don’t know when something that special will happen again. It’s insane. You hope they feel the same.

And then you have the confirmation. The confirmation that they too felt like you, like this shared moment was too good and too precious and none of you can accept the idea that it had ended already. You need to create the memory again. Another one. As phenomenal and intense and unduplicable. 

That’s how you end up on all four, barely holding up on your forearms, cheek sticking to the skin of Jungkook’s thigh as Taehyung, on his knees, fucks you hard from behind. Because that’s special and it feels indeed phenomenal. You feel like you're dying and living, feel like sobbing yet you find yourself chuckling through the few tears running from your eyes. It feels incredible. You don’t know how much it is the whole situation. How much it is them. How much it is the foreplay the concert turned out to be. How much it is Taehyung's ministrations. Either way, you’ve never been fucked like so and it never felt so delectable. 

Taehyung shuffles a bit, sitting back on his knees instead of standing, and starts hitting upward, banging against a spot you’ve heard of but never thought you’d experience the day it will be played with. He’s not really playing though. He’s beating furiously, it’s brutish, you just know it will hurt once the pleasure is gone but for now, all you can do is take it, drooling on Jungkook's thigh while panting and whining like a bitch. The more pleasure you gather, the ball inside growing so wide, invading all senses and wearing you down, the deeper you sink into your only support: Jungkook. Your face ends up forcing a snug place against his rock hard crotch. He’s not even saying anything, complaining, moaning or anything. Sometimes you can feel his thighs jerk and tense under you. Sometimes you hear a sharp inhale. He just has one of his pretty hands smoothing your hair down tenderly and the other one is holding you somewhere but you can’t even pinpoint it. Your whole body is invaded by Taehyung in the form of sheer pleasure and all of your senses, stimulated simultaneously, blend and mix for you to be lost in a maze of delicious sensations, completely indecipherable from one another.

You render silent when it turns out to be too much. Mouth stuck agape, eyes rolled upward behind your closed eyelids. It’s Jungkook who worries first, fumbling with your hair to get it out of your flushed face. You blink once at the light, and Taehyung, growling, grabs you by the shoulders before he drags you up against him, slapping your ass with his hips continuously. 

“Babe, get up, I need to know you’re still with me. Am I doing all this just for myself?” A lamentation. Not so convincing, but a proper answer is just too much to ask from you. “Who am I doing this for?” He insists, grunting, lips pressed to your ear.

“F-for me.”

He hums contently. His voice, baritone tease, rumbles against your cheek he then kisses. “Then you're gonna take it like a good girl.”

“Yes, yes, please, I will-”

Slowly he drags his outrageously big cock out, his thickness scuffing every inch of your walls, earning a pathetic whine from you, and he starts fucking you again, quietly and nicely now as he tries to listen to your babbling about how he’s too good and it’s too much. 

“I know, baby, I know. It hurts but it’ll- fuck- it’s gonna be so good in a sec- uh-”

You’re so pliant in his arms. Lenient, unconcerned by anything, letting him have his way. At this point, you’d cry if he were not to help you release your growing orgasm, but you’d let him go away with anything as he ruined you beyond reparation, beyond sanity. You don’t mind him using you to get himself off, use you like his personal fucktoy and for some reason, having someone else, and Jungkook at that, being a witness to your desperation makes it all so much arousing. 

When Taehyung sees you playing grabby hands, your tiny fingers aiming to reach weakly for Jungkook, he decides to be nice and let go of you so that you can lend on your friend's broad chest. It takes a second for you to tear his t-shirt up and attach your wet mouth to his cute brown nipple. And finally, you can hear him properly. He lets go of more of those sharp inhales now accompanied by poorly withheld moans. And he’s squirming under you. Trembling a bit, shuffling his butt on the spot, torn between shying away and offering himself for more. You indulge in his obvious pleasure. Kissing and sucking, twisting gently with your fingers his pretty nipples until Taehyung's thrusts turn wild and raw again, too raw for you to focus on anything else and you let yourself fall forward, until face buried in Jungkook’s crotch once more, you’re getting fucked through the strongest orgasm to ever pervade you. Your twitching walls are an unforgivable treat for Taehyung's cock who’s wrung of every drip of his cum.

It takes an eternity for you two to recover. Taehyung, unmoving, still holding your hips in his gigantic hands as to balance himself and holds himself down to earth and not simply fucking take a one-way flight to outer space or some shit. He’s breathing hard, head dipped forward as trickles of sweat fall from the tip of his nose and the pointy end of his chin. 

“Fucking hell. I’m- shit, you feel good.” There's a pathetic snivel elevating from you. Apparently, it's enough of a contribution to the conversation since no one points it out. “Guk-ah, s’your turn. Good luck.” He says before he’s falling on his back, next to Jungkook, sighing loud like he’s just spent half of his life on just mounting you. 

“I don’t think he has a turn left.” You mumble, chuckling a bit. Taehyung is not sure what you mean, assuming you want to be a tease and maybe deny your younger friend of his pass. But then you’re rolling on your back, glowing face split in a cute grin, watching upward to Jungkook's face who’s turned the deepest nuance of red up to the tip of his adorable ears. Taehyung's mouth shapes in a wolf-like grin as he reaches a hand over you to grab an unsubtle grip of his friends softening dick. He bursts in his typical thundering laughter because if the semi hardness is debatable, the wet spot wetting his palm is not. 

“I think it’s hot, Jungkook.” You say kindly. You know from the deep frustration unfading on his handsome face and the cackle coming from Taehyung that you sound patronizing as fuck. Something like the typical: 'You’re doing great sweetie!' But you mean it. You genuinely mean it. Having a guy like him come in his pants potentially because of you is incredibly sexy and flattering.

“I think it’s cute.” Taehyung adds smiling like an asshole. Jungkook is infuriated when he turns to stare at his older friend. It’s the look he gives as a warning when he’s about to beat someone up.

But this time, you wonder if that look could mean anything else.

a/n: so this came to me in the middle of the night, following the Rockin’1000 concert i’d attended to and uhm... yea, this ensued. I mean can you guys imagine going to a rock concert/festival with Tae, I feel like that’s what would happen lmao. Didn’t turn out exactly how I wanted it but I hope you enjoy. Let me know your thoughts. kisses !

[inforapound]

Emboîté Part 5

A/N - Thank you so much for your likes and comments. The sauce continues. Forgive my typos. Wrote and posted from my phone. 

Pairing – Ivar and Sarah     (Aethelswith)

Words – 3,800 approx

Series Warnings – explicit smut, dance industry inaccuracies, fluffy Ivar, possessive Ivar, semi-slow burn, ‘baby’ used as a term of endearment.

Cracking open my eyes, the room was dim but the warm light coming through the windows told me morning wasn’t far away. Sneaking out from under the warmth of Ivar’s smooth skin and plush duvet, I tiptoed into his bathroom to pee, wash my face and rinse my mouth with water.

The stone floors were cool under my bare feet, making me shiver, my muscles and lady parts feeling wonderfully tender. Even his seed slipping out as I went to the bathroom made me feel oddly content.

I wasn’t sure why I had told him it was okay to finish inside. Swept away in the moment I suppose or perhaps after years and years of infrequent periods, I assumed my body to be infertile. Dancing full time since graduating high school, it hadn’t been since grade 12 that I bled monthly. That was also the last time my body weight was at a healthy level when I wasn’t pushing myself as I was now. Like everything else, my health was another aspect of life I would deal with, one day when there was time and my goals had been realized.

Back at the bedside, I stood looking down at the nude from-the-covers-up Scandinavian God. His short hair was puffy and soft and his sensational lips pouting in his sleep. The word boyfriend tumbled around in my head as I gazed down at him, wondering what that even meant. Did I know how to do any of this, be a girlfriend? Did I even know him? Did it matter? I was already hooked.

Having been with only two guys in my entire life, I was far from experienced with this sort of thing, purposely steering clear. There had never been time and the reality was, there still wasn’t. As incredible as this all felt, I could not let it, him, disrupt my focus. It was career do or die time and the clock was ticking.

But Ivar….God, I sighed lightly, he was consuming. The strength of the attraction between us, the emotion behind what we shared. It was blinding and we had only just started. The thought of him looking at me from behind his camera, kissing me in the restaurant, his lips on my body, his whispered words, sent chills down the backs of my legs.

“Would you stop staring at me and get your sexy ass back in this bed?”

Without opening his eyes, he rolled from his tummy onto his side and lifted the quilt. Climbing back in and settling down in his cozy cocoon, I lay facing him, wrapping my arm and leg around him, back into what felt like our position.

In one swift move, he scooped me and dragged me below him, rising onto his elbows and quickly settled between my legs. Ah, I loved the feel of his weight pressing me down onto the bed, his firm morning erecting digging into my skin.

Touching his lips to mine, I pulled away, looking to the side, “I haven’t brushed my teeth.”

“Tough,” he replied forcing my mouth open with his. Shifting down, he dropped his lips to my throat and then chest, sucking my sensitive nipple into his mouth and gently tugging and murmuring as his hand kneaded my other breast. Switching sides, he sucked and swirled his tongue around the other nipple, giving my chest more attention than all the men I had ever been with combined.

“Christ, I love these little tits,” he groaned, pulling himself back up, his mouth landing on mine. Tilting over, he reached down between us, his fingers slipping between my already wet folds, growling and running his teeth with soft bites down my cheeks to my neck. It felt amazing. The way he touched and kissed me, I could sense how elated he was that I was there, waking up in his bed, naked and completely his.

Moaning under his breath, his lips pulled back to mine, his tongue dipping into my mouth, teasing me as his fingers slid back and forth over my clit, my hips instantly starting to rock in time with his movements. I was ready for him, my body craved him, and it occurred that this is what people meant when speaking of chemistry. We had it in spades.

Lifting onto his forearms, he grabbed the base of his cock and ran his soft tip between my slick folds, coating himself, before pushing slowly in. Moaning with relief, he dropped his head down beside my face, his breath loud in my ear, digging his other hand under me to grab and hold the back of my ass. Covering my mouth again, he kissed me, his movements agonizingly soft, his hips and hard cock buried deep and holding in place.

“I just want to feel you,” he whispered, dropping his lips to my ear. “How warm and tight you are around me.” No longer able to lay still, I rolled my hips up, grinding on his rigid length, his fullness feeling like it barely fit.

“Baby, easy,” he groaned, “I’m so sensitive. God.”

Closing his eyes, he carefully withdrew and gradually pushed back in. The anticipation of the next thrust made my mouth fall open, my breath turning to a pant, wanting him so badly to thrust in hard. Rolling my pelvis up to him again, I could see the strain in his face, bracing, as I wiggled around him.

“You stay still,” I whispered, unable to stop from smiling at his sweet discomfort. “I’ll move against you.”

Slowly, I rocked my hips up toward him, his body staying rigid. Bucking harder, I ground up, the trimmed hair above his length, rubbing directly on my clit. Whimpering, I increased my pace, sliding up and against his large perfect cock, grinding, feeling his hardness.

Pushing my feet down onto the mattress, I thrust up harder and faster, needing him deeper and chasing the friction against my clit. My arms gripped around his neck, virtually hanging from him, as I jutted forward, rutting almost frantically over and over.

Squeezing his eyes shut, his lips pulled back into a silent snarl as my movements found a rough rhythm.

“I, I,” attempting to speak, my voice was lost in the feel of the head of his curved cock rubbing that special spot inside me, my orgasm building, forcing me to hold myself up against him, grinding as hard as I could.

“Baby,” he rasped as my legs began to shake, my walls squeezing, making him feel even larger. “Yeah, cum baby, cum all over my cock,” he rushed into my ear as my arms released from his neck, my upper body flopping back onto the bed as my peak hit. With a grunt, he dropped down from his elbows, his warm chest covering mine and began thrusting hard knowing I needed him to move.

“You’re my princess,” he groaned, his strokes hard and deliberate, keeping the same pace. “God, you are gorgeous.” His face hovering over mine, he stared into my barely open eyes.

A second wave of pleasure rippled through me, erupting from my core. Whining loudly, I could do nothing other than whimper as he continued sliding in and out, his fingers between the cheeks of my ass, pulling me up toward his rocking hips.

“You’re my baby,” he hissed between gritted teeth, his eyes now wide, “You feel so fucking good.”

Grunting loudly, his movements became fast and jerky before he thrust in so deep in felt sharp and poured his cum inside.

Slumping onto me, we lay like two lumps of bliss, sweaty and delirious, catching our breath.

Eventually, his slack weight pressing down on my chest made it hard to breathe had me shifting under his body stirred him from his lethargy. The squishiness between us made me inwardly cringe as I pictured what his navy blue sheets must look.

Rubbing my cheek against his, I savoured the feel of his sideburns on my skin.

“I have to get going,” I whispered.

“No.”

“I need to get to the theatre for eight.”

“No... stay.”

“I wish.”

“Than do it.”

Lifting his head, he peered toward the clock on the nightstand before flopping back down against my neck. “It’s only just 6:30. I’ll take you in a bit. Just a little while longer,” he mumbled, his lips moving against the skin of my throat.

Shifting, I squirmed under his weight and with a sigh, he climbed off, rolling onto his back beside me. Looking over, I could see that his mood had instantly shifted, he stared up at the ceiling, his jaw jutting forward and his forehead showing the lines of a scowl.

Sitting up, I scooted to the edge of the bed wondering if he actually thought I would stay all day. Didn’t he also have to work?

“I’m going to shower,” I said, not prepared to be that girl to ask what he was thinking.

“Hey,” he called and I looked back over my shoulder.

“Want company?”

He wasn’t smiling but I could see the hopeful glimmer in his still dozy eyes. Jesus, how could I deny that face anything?

---

An hour later, we were in his vehicle and I wondered what kind of hours Dario worked. Was he always just on standby? Could Ivar not drive because of his legs? It wasn’t the time to ask, so I adjusted back in the seat, leaning into Ivar’s shoulder, feeling the tenderness of our last round in his large glass shower, riding him as he sat on a built-in bench that stretched the entire length.

Lifting my hand, he kissed my knuckles, before leaning down to my ear. “You’re beautiful, Sarah.”

Laughing, I rolled my eyes, looking up to his handsome face thinking how I must actually look - frizzy half-dried hair, no makeup and wearing yesterday’s dance gear wrinkled from the bottom of my bag.  What a journey we had been on in four days. Gazing up at him, the way his soft eyes stared into mine, I believed he thought I was beautiful.

“Give me your phone.”

Passing it over, he took a photo of himself frowning and locked it into my contacts with his number. “Now you can see my angry face when I call, and you know you have to answer.” Grinning like a brat, he handed it back but I knew, despite his smile, he was half-serious.

Arriving, I looked up to him again.

“I’ll talk to you later.”

Leaning down, he pressed a soft peck to my lips, pulling back but instantly kissed me again, peck after peck until I giggled and pushed him back. The door opened, and Dario stood to the side as I slid out. The fresh air filled my lungs as I walked toward the front door of the theatre, literally feeling amazing, rejuvenated. Moving through the entrance, I hoped my dance partner, that morning, would not be able to tell that I had just been shagged inside out.

----

That evening, I pushed through the doors of the theatre exhausted and heading for my forgotten home. A door opened from the back of a black SUV pulled up to the curb and Ivar’s cane touched the sidewalk as he stepped out from the open door.

My smile faded when I saw his stern face, his movements rigid as his eyes swept up the front of me. Confused by his cool demeanor my footsteps slowed as I approached.

“Hi,” purposely, I kept my face bright.

Clearing his throat, he stepped aside and lifted his arm toward the door. “Get in. I’ll take you home.”

Once seated inside, he climbed back in, taking my hand and lifting it to his lips to kiss. Without looking at me, he spoke in the direction of his window. “I missed you today.”

Watching the side of his face, his eyes skipped from building to building, over the passing scenery as we drove, and I wondered why he sounded so disappointed. Straightening, I looked out the front, realizing by the direction we were headed that when he said home, he meant his.

Settling back against the leather seat, I pressed my lips together, wishing I was going to my own place. After the whirlwind few days on top of practice, I ached for a hot shower and to simply flop onto my bed, eat scrambled eggs and read some romance fic.

Not talking all the way up the elevator, I wondered why he even wanted me there. Where was the open-hearted Ivar who expressed his undying affection the previous night and morning? It all felt so strange now.

Walking in, I could see he was leaning heavily on his crutch and I guessed our night of love-making left him in pain, no doubt adding to his current mood. Heading to the living room, he left me standing in the front entrance. Oh yes, I knew this man. Why was I acting so surprised? This was the very same Ivar I first met in that ballroom who dismissed me with barely a second glance.

“Close the door and come here,” not turning to look, he spoke over his shoulder. Frowning, I closed the door and stood in place a moment before following him into the living room. Stopping in front of the glass coffee table, Ivar was already seated on the leather sofa, his dull eyes boring into me.

“Are you alr..”

“Did you dance like that?” He cut me off.

“Like what?”

“Wearing that?” he jerked his chin up toward me.

Glancing down, I instantly knew he was referring to my leotard. Having removed my leggings, I realized to his eye, it looked like a one-piece black bathing suit. My coat hung open and my legs were bare from my hips down to the top of my grey Ugg knock offs.

“Yes.”

Scoffing lightly, his eyes didn’t fall from mine, just held in place.

“So did most of the other girls as the south windows all but cooked us this afternoon.”

I knew my tone was defensive, but I didn’t care. Looking away, he rolled his neck, staring off toward the dining room.

“You were going to catch a cab like that?”

“No, the bus.”

Snapping his head back, he gawked in disbelief and I saw a flash of anger flit behind his blue eyes.

“The fucking bus, Sarah?”

“I was going to do up my coat, Ivar. It’s longer than some girl’s dresses...if that is what this is about. Are you upset?”

Looking down at the coffee table, I could see him struggling with what to say next.

“You,” he exhaled out his nose, shaking his head. “You don’t know what men are like. What they would be thinking, looking at you like that.” Shaking his head again, he ran his tongue over his bottom lip as if holding himself back. “What they would... want to do.”

Christ, he was upset. It was adorable and eerily possessive. Regardless, I felt pathetically needy for his affection from that morning. Not knowing where we stood, I couldn’t help wanting to pacify him. Is this what it will be like though? Jealous Ivar and me wanting to soothe him and make it all better. Part of me, a tiny part, thought I should turn around and walk out and never look back. But I didn’t. In fact, I did the opposite.

“What do you… mean?” I asked in a naive voice, batting my eyes. “What would they want to do?” I tipped my head to the side like a confused baby doe.

Squinting, he studied me, dropping his head to one side. A glimmer of wickedness in his eyes. Inhaling, he flared his nostrils and I couldn’t help but feel a thrill at my effect on him.

“Take off your coat,” he ordered. His voice low.

Taking my time, I slipped it off, letting it drop to the floor.

“Come here,” he tipped his head to the other side.

Slipping off my boots, I walked between the coffee table and couch, dropping down to my knees to crawl the rest of the way. Pushing between his legs, I sat back on my heels like an obedient little puppy, staring sweetly up at his smug face.

“I’m sorry if I upset you.” My tone was innocent, as I ran my hands gently up his legs, tracing circles around his knees.

Frowning, his face changed, his eyes softened, looking almost vulnerable.

“You don’t understand what you’ve done to me,” he whispered.

Reaching forward toward my chest, he looped his finger inside the strap of my leotard, running his thumb delicately back and forth over my nipple through the thin black material. The sensation made me close my eyes and press my crotch down against the heal of my foot, my wetness already blooming.

Sliding my hands up his grey pants, I skimmed over the top of his large bulge making him flinch. Hooking my fingers under the waistband, I eyed him, and he lifted his hips allowing me to pull his pants down his thighs. His perfectly smooth, erection lay hard across his leg. Taking it in my hand, I leaned forward, and all but inhaled it into my mouth.

“Hmmm,” came from deep in his chest, as he settled further back on the couch.

Swirling my tongue around his tip, I ran the flat of my tongue down his length before fully engulfing him, bobbing deep, his head hitting the back of my throat.

Hissing, he flexed upward, and I was encouraged to wrap my hand around his base, slowly pumping his shaft in time with the movements of my wet mouth.

Beginning to breathe loudly, he dropped his head back, relaxing into the feel.

Loving the taste of him, I wanted more. Shifting higher on my knees, I found a rhythm with my hand and mouth.

“No,” his voice startled me.

Lifting his head, he looked down at me, his eyebrows pinched.

“No,” he repeated.

Hesitating, I lifted my mouth, my hand still around his base. Before I could say a thing, he reached forward and swiftly pulled me up by my arms, rolling me to sit beside him. Shifting forward on the couch, he lowered to the floor, his pants still down, and opened my legs roughly, moving between them.

“I’m going to show you what men will think when they see you dressed like that on a fucking bus.”

Reaching up, he tugged the top of my leotard down, jerking me forward, exposing my breasts, my nipples pushing up and above the top of the scooped neckline. Satisfied with this, he lowered his hands pulling me by the backs of my knees forward. Spreading my legs further, he roughly yanked the crotch of my leotard to the side.

“No!” my hands shot down to cover myself. “I haven’t showered. I’ve been dancing all day.”

“Good,” he snorted.

Smacking my hands clear, he dropped forward landing his mouth right on my open sex. Growling like a mad dog, he licked and laved, sucking my soft folds and clit right into his mouth. The slurping sounds and his grunts echoed through his quiet apartment and his cutting blue eyes continually flicked up to me, staring, watching my reaction to his eager mouth.

“This is what they will want.” He lifted his face to speak. “Your pretty little pussy. This is my pussy.” Grunting again, he looked possessed and I wondered if he’d be chaining me up after, feasting on my other body parts.

Dropping his mouth back, he pointed his tongue and ran it hard over and over my clit until my stomach contracted and my legs began to shake. Reaching up, I held the back of the couch, pressing my face against the inside of my arm. The muscles in my legs jumped and I flexed my cunt up towards his face, crying loudly as my orgasm hit.

Licking and lapping my wetness, he straightened on his knees and pulled me forward, flipping me over so my tummy lay flat on the couch. Still coming down from my climax, I made no noise, just allowed him to move me like a ragdoll. Reaching between us, he pulled my leotard further to the side, touching his hardness to the back of my opening before pushing in, in one smooth thrust. Stopping when he bottomed out, he held in place, and I shifted my knees further apart, tipping my bottom up to better receive him.

Moaning against the cushion at the warm feel of his chest covering my back, his lips kissed and sucked my shoulder before burrowing into the side of my neck.

“Are you mine, Sarah?” Withdrawing slowly, he pushed back in.

“Yes.” I rushed, my entrance still contracted and quivering from my finish.

“Completely?” with dragged out and pushed back in.

“Completely,” I panted and honestly, I would have agreed to anything as his cock slid in and out.

“You are so beautiful. Fuck!” he swore, pumping me over and over as I arched my backside up to him. Straightening he rose from my back and I whined from the loss of his warmth.

“I thought about you all day. Made me so fucking happy.” His strokes were smooth and slow and I felt overwhelmed and worshipped all at the same time. “You’re my princess,” he whined, his words filled with emotion. My mind soared and my insides ached for him to move faster, deeper. “In a moment, I’m going to fuck you hard and cum fast and then after we can shower.” Tilting back at the waist, he picked up his pace, his balls beginning to slap me exactly right. “Then I will order us supper and after we can take our time making love. Okay, baby?” The pace of his hips increased, snapping forward and back.

Down the rabbit hole I went, “Okay” I mumbled, holding onto the couch as he started to pound into me, his breath turning ragged.

Suddenly, he whipped out, his strong arms lifting me again, flipping me onto my back, quickly grabbing himself he drove back in, making me scream out. Pushing my bent knees up to either side of my body, he rocked his hips forward, dropping one hand, and began rubbing his thumb over my clit.

“Fuck,” I shouted, tipping my chin up and squeezing my eyes closed. My legs wanted to straighten but he held them in place. I came so fast and hard, it hit me like a battle ram. The sensation too much, too sensitive, making me feel dizzy; my walls pulsing tight around him.

“Baby?” he rushed.

Cracking open my eyes, his wild blue eyes stared back at me.

“Spread your pussy.”

“Huh?” I breathed, unsure of his meaning.

Pulling out, he gripped his shining cock, and snarled, “Open your pussy for me!”

Quickly reaching between my legs, I pulled the lips of my pussy apart, just as he pointed his cock and shot thick spurts of warm cum all over my raw, pink opening and clit, covering my wetness with his own. Grunting like an animal, he shuddered, his other hand falling forward onto the couch for support.

There was no double left in my mind as to where we stood, I had just been claimed. I now belonged to Ivar Lothbrok.

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[lemonadearchived]

🍋 OPEN ABRAHAM STARTER

open to: f / nb prompt: it’s an ungodly hour and abe has just returned home from an under-the-table business deal at the auction house. he’s trying to unwind in his study, thinking that everyone has long gone to sleep. connections: tab*o, stepc*st, wife, one of his children’s girlfriends, live-in maid, etc.

Nothing goes down quite as smooth as an aged scotch after a particularly grueling day. He’s just now started to settle into the comfort of his own home, tucked away in his study with the fireplace roaring and the classic rock of his youth playing more like white noise in the background than anything else. It’s not as loud as he’d like, but it will do. Abraham can’t be too cautious with so many people in his house, big as it is. He doesn’t want to attract attention, he just wants to sink into his leather seat and let his mind wander. His hands too. They work at the buckle of his belt and the button of his trousers, pulling his semi-hard length from his pants. A drawn-out sigh escapes him as he strokes himself to full rigidity. He’s built up a nice, steady rhythm when the creaking of his study door alerts him that he’s not alone. His entire body tenses, head snapping toward the noise. “Is someone there?”