#the discomfort at being with someone who has a woman’s body

[veritas-scribblings]

3. out of control | words: 2,325 | M for some mild sexual content | jegulus, platonic prongsfoot, some polyamory, implied bartylus, subtle "really read between the lines" rosestarkillerchaser | [early morning <- previous part | next part -> home]

(October, 1982)

James knows that something will go wrong the moment he sees them walking in. It begins when all the blood in his body immediately pools south the moment he lays eyes on Regulus. Regulus with his pale-yet-flushed cheeks. Regulus with his silky hair that falls into his eyes in loose curls. Regulus with his half-unbuttoned shirt, which should be illegal because James can see his chest. 

James wants to debauch him.

But he can’t. He can’t because Lily is across the room. He can’t because Sirius is here, and everything is already fragile and incredibly loaded. He can’t because…because…because everything. And he doesn’t know what to do. James has managed to keep everything so very, neatly separate and compartmentalised for so very, very long.

But now he feels like everything is about to explode.

It’s Dorcas’s birthday; the one time when their social circles overlap. Marlene, being Marlene, planned this elaborate event with promises of ‘much lubrication’. Because she’s filthy like that. And because Marlene is Marlene and really likes drama, and Dorcas obviously has her own friends, they’ve managed to convince Regulus to make an appearance.

Regulus, unfortunately, comes attached with Barty Crouch Junior and Evan Rosier. It was the only way they could get Regulus to agree to attend.

And James knows: everything is going to explode.

The music is loud; Marlene has amplified it with a Sonorus charm and James can barely hear himself think. Across the lounge, through the throng of bodies, Lily is behind the makeshift bar brewing cocktails. The ‘Lily Special’, Marlene calls it, tinged with magic that makes you sing or breathe bubbles. Mostly harmless stuff. But Barty has been fighting to get his ‘Barty Special’ behind the bar, which James knows isn’t the best idea. Mainly because of where the ‘Barty Special’ got him last time. 

“Lookin’ morose, Potter. All broody.” Marlene elbows him between the ribs. She drops herself down onto the couch beside him and passes him a drink: one of the Lily Specials. James’s agitation is giving Marlene far too much of a thrill, because Marlene is a little shit who gets joy out of other people’s discomfort. 

James cautiously sets the drink aside. Though he wants to down it to try and drown his worries, he knows he’s going to need a clear head to avoid future fuck-ups.

“What’s got your pants in a knot?” Marlene asks, conversationally. “Let me guess. Your ex-girlfriend is behind the bar brewing drinks, getting everyone lubricated, a strong, independent woman. Your best friend looks like he wants to murder someone. Maybe you. Maybe his brother. Your boyfriend, his brother, who you happen to be shagging also looks like he wants to murder someone. Maybe his brother. Maybe your ex-girlfriend. More likely you, because you, James Potter, have been avoiding him all night.”

Fuck it. Because she’s right. He has been avoiding Regulus, and Regulus has been furious about it, hitting him with icy-cold stares of death all night. And James? James is weak. James is a coward. James’s Gryffindor lionheart has wilted and died.

Sirius has never seen them together, and James is just not prepared for the fallout.

James downs the entire ‘Lily Special’ cocktail in one go, a smoking, pearlescent concoction. Swallows too much air. Hiccups a glistening, shimmering bubble. The bubble smells like lemon. The cocktail tastes like peach. It’s damned confusing.

Marlene is right. Sirius sits on a the bench by the bay windows with the darkest, angriest expression James has seen on him in a very long time. He’s watching someone across the room. From the looks of things, he’s been watching that someone for a while. Intensely. Hands gripping his cocktail glass, which surprisingly has yet to shatter under the pressure of his grip.

“Does it bother you, Potter, that they actually look like they’re about to fuck,” Marlene asks casually. She takes a sip of her drink, all innocent like, and smiles up at him sweetly.

“They who?” James asks. A bubble escapes his lips when he speaks.

Marlene elbows him again and nods across the room to the spot Sirius is staring at. She’s right again, he realises. They do look like they’re about to…fuck.

Barty has Regulus in his arms, holding him so closely they may as well one one. All tangled limbs. Leg between Regulus’s. They’re kissing. They’re moving together to the music. Grinding. Barty has his face buried in Regulus’s neck. Regulus has his head thrown back. He’s getting off on it, James knows, because James knows that look.

He has taken something. Most likely a ‘Barty Special’.

And of course Sirius wants to murder someone. James had been wrong; Sirius wants to murder Barty. There's darkness, there's anger. He’s most likely plotting just the murder might go down.

“Huh. So I was under the impression that Crouch is dating Rosier. And that you’re dating…baby Black…but that…” Marlene seems to note that James is not upset, he’s merely annoyed, because she shrugs and holds a hand up and says, “Hey, look, I’m not about to judge your sex life. Whatever kinky shit’s going on in your bedroom…or their bedroom…”

“Fuck,” James mutters. The song changes to ‘Back in Black’. He feels the beat pounding like a pulse in his chest; it gives him the internal boost he needs. “Shit. On a disaster scale of 1 to 10?”

“12,” Marlene says firmly. “I reckon, if you don’t want anyone losing an eye or an appendage, I’d intervene, like, ten minutes ago.”

James sighs and scans the room. Evan is leaning up against a wall by the door, shadowed, like he’s trying his damndest to avoid human contact and ensure his own ability to flee. James shoves his way over. “You go get your boyfriend,” he says, “and I’ll go get mine.”

Evan snickers and leans back against the wall, folds his arms over his chest. “Why? I’m enjoying the scene.”

“Look.” James grits his teeth, feels the heat of a memory flush in his cheeks, draining down his neck. He’s probably tinged red, and maybe he could pretend it’s the buzz of the alcohol, but he knows it’s not. And Evan knows it too. “I don’t need anyone…asking questions.”

“Embarrassed?” Evan drawls. “Hogwarts is a distant memory, and yet you’re still…such a Gryffindor. Besides, not the scene I’m enjoying. Not that it they’re not hot and all. How long do you think it’ll take before his head explodes?”

He means Sirius, who is still staring intently at Barty and James. Every once in a while, Sirius looks over at James like James will have a lot to answer for later. After Sirius is done freezing him out.

“I’m not emb—” James groans, frustrated. “I just mean, if you don’t want Sirius having a go at Barty…”

“Barty can handle himself. I’m pretty sure he’s taken Sirius on before.”

James rolls his eyes. He can handle this himself. When he stalks off, he sees out of the corner of his eyes Evan reluctantly following him.

Barty and Regulus are still wrapped around each other. Barty practically hisses when he see’s James. It is not unusual for the territorial heart that resides inside the little freak. It’s more than likely, James figures, that Regulus is upset with him and Barty is protective on his behalf.

Evan wraps his arms around Barty’s waist and pulls him backward, and James carefully works on untangling Regulus’s limbs. Regulus sighs and lays his head on James’s shoulder. 

“You’re a bitch,” Regulus says into his neck. They sound like Barty’s words.

He’s drunk, James knows. He’s also some level of high. Cheeks flushed, Regulus kisses James's neck and James has to cut off a moan when Regulus’s hand dips between them and he cups James’s crotch and he massages gently.

“Hey, hey, no. Not here. Sirius is watching,” James murmurs by Regulus’s ear, pushing his hand away. When Regulus makes a fussy sound and tries to leave, James traps him in the circle of his arms.

“You taste like fireworks,” Regulus says, nipping at his chin. He smells sweet, like coconuts and vanilla. His tongue, his lips work a pathway up James’s neck, causing James’s breath and heartbeat to quicken. He can feel it pulse between them.

“Love, what did you take?” James tries not to groan, but Regulus is so damned handsy, which is unusual for Regulus. And stress and arousal have been James’s companions all night. “Let’s go get you a drink…some water.”

James pulls Regulus over to the couch, where Marlene is still planted watching everything unfold with great interest. He tries to deposit Regulus onto the couch, but Regulus doesn’t let go and they go tumbling forwards together. 

When Evan arrives with Barty, planting himself between Regulus and Barty for good measure, James notices Sirius storming off across the room.

“Fuck,” he swears, “Evan, get him a—just make sure they don’t do anything stupid.” James races after Sirius, pushing his way through the crowd. 

Sirius is sitting on the door step outside smoking, a terrible habit he’s picked up recently. It’s dark outside and the autumn air is fresh with a slight bite to it. Sighing, James drops down next to Sirius and draws his knees to his chest.

Wordlessly, Sirius passes James the cigarette. James takes a drag, coughs up a lung, and passes it back. 

“It’s…” he hedges. “...he’s plastered. I think…Barty gave him something.”

“Barty Special,” Sirius comments. Takes another long drag from the cigarette. “He’s such a fucking arsehole.” He casts a sidelong glance at James and rolls his eyes. “I’m not mad at you, so you can stop looking like I’m going to rip your head of. I know what they’re like. Everyone knows what they're fucking like."

Letting out a long breath, James leans back, laying down on the ground, half in the house, half out of the house. He can hear the beat of the music in the distance, the chatter of voices merging into a single, shapeless blob. 

“I gave you my blessing, didn’t I?” Sirius says solemnly.

James blinks up at him. “Um…no? I think your words were, 'I don’t want anything to do with this'?” Sirius had frozen him out for a long time when James had admitted that he was quickly and hopelessly falling for Regulus. 

“Well, I maintain that. I am not in the least bit interested in details.”

“And I, too, am not in the least bit interested in giving you any details,” James agrees eagerly, sitting up.

“Good, I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“Okay, so, what’s eating you, Pads?”

Sirius lays his head down on James’s shoulder and sighs a long, drawn out sigh. He tucks himself under James’s arm, snuggling close, staring up at the night sky, which is clear and speckled with stars. “Can’t see me, this time of the year,” he says.

He doesn’t want to talk about it, James knows. He’s bothered about Regulus—Regulus, who still won’t talk to him—and it has nothing to do with James, apparently. Maybe it doesn’t even have anything to do with Barty? It likely has to do with whatever occurred between the brother way back after their parents died. Something they won’t talk about.

James nudges Sirius and Sirius makes a fussy sound, so remarkably like Regulus that it leaves a weird, uncomfortable feeling in the pit of James’s stomach. “Well, what did you go with? Boils? Bat-bogey? Good ol’ fashioned quartering?”

“Death by a thousand lashes,” Sirius says darkly. “Slowly.”

James hums. He pulls Sirius down over to the lawn and they lay on the ground again. The sky is clearer like this; it gives Sirius comfort.

It gives Regulus comfort too. They’re similar like that, though they’ll never admit it.

“Barty isn’t half-bad,” James comments. “Sometimes I think you guys’d get along smashingly if…if you didn’t hate each other so much.”

“You’re nuts,” Sirius mutters. “That doesn’t make any sense. Too many blows to the head in quidditch practice, Prongsie. Gotta get you guys helmets.”

“He’s just���weirdly loyal.”

James doesn’t need to look at Sirius to know that Sirius is rolling his eyes. “Tried to literally murder me kinda loyal. Or you forgotten that so quickly?”

“Violent tendencies aside, he’s okay,” James says. He can’t explain it. Barty is insane. The kind of chaos where you’ll always see him coming, you just won’t know what he’s about to do. He’s territorial. He loves to bait people for the drama.

But James…sometimes he just doesn’t mind Barty. Sometimes he likes him. And maybe it’s…

James clears his throat and tries to shake the images away. It feels wrong thinking about it around Sirius. The way he can feel the heat in his blood rising and spreading and pooling. Feel the heat in the memory of those hands on his skin.

“I won’t say anything,” Sirius says quietly. He’s staring up at the sky, tracing the constellations, James knows. He won’t look at James because Sirius does not do feelings. He's practically allergic to them.

“He’s okay,” James says. “He’s good. Regulus is good. He…got the job at the apothecary. Still plays quidditch on the weekends. Oh, he’s trying to grow this rare herb at his house for these potions he’s brewing at the apothecary. And then his cat ate it, and we had to take it to the animal healer. It was this whole thing.”

James turns, looks at Sirius, who’s resting with his head on James’s arm. “I tell him about you,” he says gently. He talks to Regulus about Sirius, and Regulus doesn’t say anything. Much like Sirius, he is always quiet, but he always listens. 

Sirius hums and closes his eyes. He rolls into James’s arms. He smells like smoke, and he’s a little bit tipsy. Sirius won’t say anything, James knows. The way that Regulus won’t say anything. Because both brothers are too stubborn. Too proud.

And maybe that’s wherein the problem lies.

[nezumasa]

I think the concept of F!Osvald is fun since it also shifts the perspective if Osvald is still an academic (ie. Academia is notoriously sexist and the idea that Osvald is a chosen name to get through censors and biases), gets sent to what seems to be an all-male prison (Frigid Isle) as the first woman deemed horrific enough to be tossed there, and also the expectations that people have for women, especially mothers.

Like that rigged trial probably ended up nastier since a father killing his wife and daughter is obviously horrific, but a mother killing her husband and daughter??? There’s nuance there.

And also the male-female friendship between Osvald and Harvey and the implications of a male academic being “inferior” to a female one (and Harvey’s envy at that) and the acknowledgement (even if “false”) of a male academic to a female one. Just massive hater energy from Harvey no matter what sex Osvald gets born as.

Also I want massive scholarly muscle girls.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

kaiser has always been uncomfortable when other people touched him.

he couldn’t help but feel like that same little kid who always had tears leaking out of his eyes every time his father laid hands on him. he can’t help but feel weak; vulnerable, even. it’s pure reflex for kaiser to slap whoever is touching him away. whether it’s a child, a woman, or a teammate. it’s all the same to him; why are they laying their hands on him?

he shows no ounce of regret when he slaps them away too harshly, when they yelp out in pain. many times, they didn’t mean to touch him. it was just an accident, they would say. well they should have just been more careful; such a stupid accident to occur, in his opinion.

but kaiser had no problem touching someone else as long as it caused some sort of discomfort to the other person.

he couldn’t care less; it made him feel…strong. powerful, even. if he was the one causing harm, then he couldn’t be hurt anymore. he wasn’t the little kid who curled up in the corner and hugging a soccer ball, he was the one making the other person curled up in the corner. and it was satisfying, it really was.

but the same discomfort comes to him whenever he’s touching someone in a way that isn’t harmful. hugs—even the ones his teammates give to him after he scores—make him feel nauseous. only after he goes to the bathroom to place his fingers and palms tightly around his neck does he finally feel better. even when he sleeps, and you accidentally touch him in the middle of his rest, he wakes up instantly, in a ready position to kick you away.

so imagine how stiff you become when kaiser lays his head on your chest, his arms around your waist, silent snores escaping him.

you don’t move in the least, your arms awkwardly at your side, and your palms turning sweaty on the couch. you slow down your breathing nearly instantly. please don’t wake up, please please please please don’t wake up.

—

sunlight cascades down on kaiser’s face as he pushes his eyes open. he yawns, but doesn’t get on. his mattress is too soft, too comfortable to—

wait, his mattress?

his bulging open, kaiser looks up and sees you asleep, a small line of drool leaking down the corner of your mouth and incoherent mumbling escaping your lips. his entire body is atop of yours, hands placed on your back as if it were meant to be placed on your body. strangely, the nausea doesn’t come. only the faint flush on his face and the tip of his ears, and the feeling of someone tugging on his heartstrings.

that someone being you, like you always do.

whether you’re cooking him something when he wakes up, or telling him about how much you love him, his heartstrings always seem to be getting pulled on when you’re around. and his eyes, they never seem to be looking anywhere but you whenever you’re around. how many goals has he silently dedicated to you at a match? how many times has he caught himself subconsciously smiling when you’re around?

and when kaiser feels himself gently brushing your hair away from your face without an ounce of discomfort his eyes fixated on your sleeping face, that’s when he knows.

you’re the one.

[arminsumi]

tattoartist!suguru losing nonchalance when reader flirts with him?

im down bad for him holy hell

Oh, he's falling to pieces, got it bad for the girl he just met 'n he's gonna make a drunk little bet — y'think he's crazy enough to get your name tattooed on him? Or crazy enough to ink his name into your skin?

ㅤ★ wc; ~3k

ㅤ★ note; continuation of tattoo artist Suguru Geto!

ㅤ★ an; aaa!! you got my brain whirring like a laptop... tysm and i hope this makes u blush and kick ur feet as much as i did while writing!! 🍰✨

ㅤ★ tagz; @ohimsummer 💗@fairiesthrum💗 @heartofjasmina 💗 @kwonan 💗 @ghost-buddies 💗 @madamecorbie 💗 @mima0127 💗 @moggleatlife 💗 @natasaa13 💗 @yemmuishomeforthementallyunwell 💗 @wakashudou 💗 @khaothick 💗 @candy-s72 💗 @creamflix 💗 @starriesworlds

ㅤ★ warnings; sum alcohol/drunkenness

“So, was she joking, or am I your type?” Suguru asks, black eyes staring right into your soul.

“Mm, well…” you hum, giving his form a look-over – god, if only you could feel how hard his heart’s beating when you do this. “Maybe.” You reply teasingly.

“Aw, just ‘maybe’?” he groans, now leaning his hip against the edge of the display case that housed the studs and gauge earrings.

“Yeah, just ‘maybe’ – I’m teasing. No, she wasn’t joking; I’ve always had a thing for the black hair, black nails, bad boy look…”

“The ‘bad boy’ look…?” he questions, recalling what your friend had said earlier about bad boys being just your type.

“Yeah, the ‘bad boy’ look.” You giggle.

His heart beats even harder, muttering a naughty little “Well, lucky me.”

“Nah, not so fast – I’m a smart woman.” You warn.

“Oh, are you?” he clicks his tongue in defeat, “Damn, would you believe that my type is smart women? No, no I’m serious… I’ve got a thing for smart women.”

Your cheeks grow hot, the heat spreading to your ears.

“I can assure you that the ‘bad boy’ look is just an aesthetic; I’m really an artsy dork making a living off doodling on people’s bodies.” He shrugs.

“Hm… maybe, maybe not.”

You rub your lips together. He briefly licks his bottom lip. You look him up and down. He looks you up and down. Body language open and alive with attraction, the both of you stand in this air of electric tension that Shoko spies from the other end of the room.

She watches as the two of you giggle like little flirts, observing how totally absorbed the two of you are in each other’s company. When you catch her eye, Shoko gives you a wink and points at her wrist, mouthing “five more” – fair enough, the two of you have promised to get pizza.

Pizza first, boys later, right?

Five minutes more go by – adding to the total of four hours spent at the tattoo & piercing parlor. But despite her discomfort and need for a change of scenery, Shoko decides to linger around just a little longer so that the two of you can indulge in each other just a little more.

But now you're getting nervous – Suguru has you breathless, holding you in a battle of who can flirt harder? which you're starting to lose.

He's captivated by you. This 6’3, tattooed, goth-grunge, slightly dorky man chuckles and smiles like he hasn’t had this much fun talking flirting with someone in years.

It's going well, then your smile trips him up. I know, it’s always the smile, huh? If you see enough of it, you slip… and that’s exactly what's happened to Suguru. He quickly grows obsessed with the way your cheeks look when you smile – the image burns into his memory without him even realizing it in the moment.

No, in the moment he doesn't realize the magnitude of your effect on him. He's just thinking about himself, about you, about —

“I’ve gotta go,” you say goodbye finally, “I don’t want to keep my friend waiting. But you’ll probably see my face here again… she loves dragging me along for these kinds of things.”

He stutters, “Oh! Oh… yeah – yes. Of course. Looking forward to it… maybe next time, you’ll be the one getting ink in your skin.”

“Yeah right.” You smile.

It’s your French exit that makes his heart throb in need.

No, don’t leave yet… I like you – don’t you ever wonder how many acquaintances in your life have thought this when leaving your company? And you’ll never even know.

Oh, Suguru was thinking so hard about asking you to exchange numbers or to meet up for coffee, but he didn’t want to come off as too forward – no, no… he had to maintain his mysteriousness. Or at least, he had to cling to whatever was left of it after revealing his inner dorkiness to you.

*****

After you leave, he wanders in and out of his studio, has small interactions with his co-workers, and doodles ideas for tattoos down.

Throughout all of these things, your face is at the forefront of his mind. Your voice echoes in his head as he recalls every detail of the conversation you two shared. Then he starts smiling softly as he applauds himself for being so gutsily flirty with you… a stranger, just someone, who he probably won’t see again…

A girl with no name.

God, why was he so slow? He didn’t even ask for your name. Suguru groans.

Yes, he probably won’t see you again… not unless your friend brings you along for her next visit. How long does he have to wait? Weeks? Months? That’s insane.

Suguru stops doodling, stares at the scrap of paper, and then looks up at the wall displaying his works. He rubs his fingers back and forth across his mouth.

I gotta.

He looks over to his phone. He reaches for it, takes it into his veiny hand, unlocks it, and scrolls through his list of contacts.

And then he dials his client��s number. Shoko Ieri.

*****

Now, it’s been just under an hour since you and Shoko left the tattoo parlour. She’s complained three times about the pain because exactly three times she has leaned back on the seat – squishing the fresh ink wound against her chair. You just cruelly laugh at how her eyes twitch in pain and each time.

The two of you sit eating pizza.

“He liked you. Why don’t we go back and you ask him for his number?” she teases.

“No way… he’ll think I’m too forward.” You shake your head.

Then three minutes later, Shoko's phone goes off. She reaches into her backpack. She looks at the caller ID, then at you, then at the caller ID, then –

“… is that him?”

“It’s him.”

“What’s he calling for! Me?”

“Absolutely he’s calling for you – I can bet gold on that.”

It stops ringing. She tells you she’ll text him back but guess what? She doesn’t even need to, because he calls again.

“Relentless.” She giggles. “I’m answering.”

“Pretend I’m not here!”

She winks at you and answers, “Hey, Suguru, what’s up?”

The two of you lean in until your foreheads press together – it’s still hard to make out every word.

“Yo.” You hear his smooth voice coming from the other side, “Sorry to bother you… (muffled)… your friend (muffled)… so embarrassed, so don’t tell her that I’m calling… (muffled)… what was her name?”

You clap your hand over your mouth when you hear those snippets.

She gives you a devious look before saying, “Oh! Well, she’s right here with me, actually, so you can ask her yourself.”

Mouth full of pizza, you freak out and X your arms to signal a fat NO WAY SHOKO! and fall to pieces all with the taste of pepperoni on your tongue.

But she just hands the phone over to you anyways, then proceeds to silently laugh as you spit out your pizza before talking.

“Hehlooo?”

“H-hey.”

You get right to the point. “My name’s Yn…”

“Oh… I like that… I’m Suguru.”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Suguru. Suguru Geto.” He raises his voice.

Cheek hot against the screen of his phone, Suguru is silently freaking out at the tense silence. He can feel his stomach starting to flip. His mind blanks.

“Anyways! Um, that’s all.”

No. That’s not all. He has a novel’s length worth of things to talk about with you.

At this point, Shoko rolls her eyes at the two of you being so awkward on the phone and decides that she needs to take matters into her own hands.

So she snatches the phone from you.

“ – Suguru? Say, you wouldn’t be free on Saturday, would ya? Yeah, I’m going on a date with this guy… and I’d love to make it a double date with you and Yn if you’d like to –”

You hear him stutter out a yes, absolutely before Shoko can even finish her sentence. She grins.

Suguru can sense that the two of you are smiling and giggling. He can predict that the two of you are probably going to gossip about him being the 'dork from the tattoo parlor that called not once, but twice for the name of a girl he just met' – but he doesn’t care. He’s been presented an opportunity and taken it.

To hell with seeming too eager.

When the call ends, Suguru blows out a breath through his lips. Then he promptly texts his best friend. Dark strands of hair slip out of his sloppy bun as he puts his face over the screen, thumbs swift and eager.

Toru 🤞😜 lol bravo... but i thought u said she was out of ur league??

Sugu i mean... yes. she's way too pretty and smart for me. but i'm not gonna pass up this opportunity

Toru 🤞😜 still can't believe u called ur client just to get her friend’s name... lol

Sugu you would understand if you met her ok

Toru 🤞😜 damn she must be something else

Yes, yes you are something else — Suguru can’t even begin to describe why. Translating his thoughts into words isn’t his thing; he translates them into art.

****

It's later in the day. You're lazing around Shoko's apartment.

She confirms the time and place of the double date, and cackles on her couch while kicking her feet, teasing you for being so crazy about a guy you just met – her tattoo artist.

You just couldn’t stop talking about Geto Suguru.

“Shiiit, should I even let you and a bad boy like him be alone in a room together?”

“I can control myself.” you assure her.

She slowly shakes her head at you.

“Yeah right… but can he? I don't trust neither of you... miss crazy and mister crazy... you might just wake up with his name in your skin.”

You giggle to yourself, biting your thumb. “Maybe…”

“Oh girl…” she groans, causing you to giggle into yourself, “You’re gonna be licking the tail of his dragon tattoo by the end of the date tomorrow.”

“H-h-he has a what? And where?” you stuttered, lashes quivering.

She shakes her head at you. “God, you’re screwed…”

*****

It's Saturday night. The bar's more alive than ever.

You've learned that Geto Suguru does, in fact, have a dragon tattoo inked up his toned arm – and a tight-fitting black tank top that shows it off along with his martial artist’s physique, too.

He’s got a glint of the devil in his black eyes. Softly-delivered dirty jokes ready to roll off his pierced tongue. A habit of tilting his head and looking hungrily at your lips and neck.

“Martial arts, huh?” you ask with stars in your eyes.

“Mhm, I could teach you a few things.” He purrs in reply.

Your stomach starts squeezing and flipping – that’s got to be the flirtiest 'mhm' that you’ve ever heard in your whole life.

“You think so?” you purr back.

Now it’s his turn to feel that squeezy, flippy feeling in his stomach.

Fuckfuckfuck is all he could think when he looks into your eyes.

I’m gonna fall to pieces. You’re gonna be the death of me.

“Uh…  do you two need some privacy?” Shoko teases.

Oh. It’s a double date. How could you forget? Shoko is literally sitting beside you at the bar with her date. But for a second there, it really felt like it was just you 'n this deliciously tattooed bad boy.

“Maybe.” Suguru chuckles coyly.

“There’s a hotel just next door…”

“Shoko!” you scold, playfully shoving her arm.

She giggles into herself, sipping down her cocktail innocently as if she didn’t just electrify the air between you and Suguru. His throat’s tensing, foot’s tapping up and down on the bar stool – boy’s got long spider-legs, huh?

Now after that, Suguru grins wider – showing off his pretty canines – his posture assuming something self-soothing; he holds his elbows, arms squished against his ribcage, which just makes his biceps more pronounced. Oh why, why did he have to wear a tank top like that? Surely he’s aware of the effect it has on girls. Or maybe he’s oblivious…

Nah. He's not.

*****

“Did it hurt?” you ask, trying to blink out the tipsiness from your love-drunk eyes but you’ve got three cosmopolitans surging through your veins.

“Not really… I’ve got great pain tolerance.” Suguru replies.

“Oh really?” you blink up at him again and his mind goes blank.

“Look at that...” He murmurs softly, not breaking eye contact with you. Where’s your friend and her date? Who knows. It’s just you and him now – and that’s all he wanted.

“Hm?”

“Not every day I see eyes like that…”

You widen your lips into a smile, “You’re laying it on thick.”

“Am I? Sorry – see, this is what happens after you feed Suguru too much rum. I just can’t keep my mouth shut.”

“That’s terrible… need someone to shut ya up?” you flirt.

He tilts his head at you, loose strands of hair shifting across his cheek. His left brow quirks up – he’s so taken aback by your forwardness but he falls right into it.

You just giggle flirtatiously after making that comment and pull the straw of your drink between your lips, sucking the remnants of a cosmopolitan into your mouth as sensually as you dare to in front of a bad boy who’s got bedroom eyes on you.

“I think I could do with some shutting up…” he admits.

“Mm,” you hum, “y’think by our third date you’re gonna snap and kiss me hard like we’re in a movie?”

Suguru smiles bashfully and looks down into his drink, swirling the melting ice cubes with a straw – slowly, round and round, they clink. Then he draws his gaze back to you, catching you with a sultry side-eye, and now it’s not just the ice cubes that are melting.

“Nah-uh…”

“Nah-uh?” you question.

“… I think it’s you who’s gonna snap first.” He says.

“Wanna bet?” you tease.

“Sure. What’ll be at stake?” he asks.

He keeps his sultry gaze on you as you look off to the side in thought for a moment. Your friend’s joke echoes in your mind.

“… you might just wake up with his name in your skin.”

Then you look back to him – his heart throbs but he’s trying to keep it together here, pulling his straw to his lips to get a sip of whatever rum still exists in his glass.

“Loser gets a regrettable tattoo?” you suggest.

He looks at you with a little bit of disbelief at your boldness.

“How regrettable?” he questions, one eye squinting shut in suspicion. He's wondering just how wild you actually are.

“Like my name on you? Or vice versa.”

He covers his mouth and lets out a chuckle hearing this. “You want me to tattoo my name on ya skin?” he teases. “Sure, I’ll bet on that.”

You can’t believe that he’s matching your crazy.

You stutter, replying only after a lingering moment of hot eye contact, “… there’s no way I’m gonna snap first…” you say boldly, proceeding to pop the cherry of your drink into your mouth and eating it right in front of the poor boy’s eyes. “ ‘m gonna have you walkin’ around with my name on you.”

Eyes glued on your lips, his breath catches in his throat.

“Yeah?”

Ooh, there it was. That feeling. That body singing electric songs feeling… that tummy-tightening, blood-rushing, skin-flushing feeling – it hit him all at once. He knows that if he were standing, his knees would have buckled now for sure, or at least he would have felt the tremor of your words under his feet.

He’s unsteady – smiling uncontrollably, looking dishevelled and softly drunk. Those rouge lips are begging to be kissed.

The bar grows quieter and quieter.

You’re hardly able to call each other anything more than strangers, and yet you’re leaning into him, closing the distance.

The tips of your noses are just inches apart now. You’re in each other’s air. He eyes out your lips, feels your hot, liquor-scented breath tickle his face.

But when you try and close the distance, he raises his hand and presses his thumb against your soft lips, stopping you.

“What happened to that bold statement, huh? Keep it together, baby; the bet’s on.” He feathers against your face.

*****

Tumbling into Shoko’s apartment after a night out drinking, you smile and giggle into the pillows of her bed.

She’s letting her hair down and swapping out her tight dress for jammies when she looks at you in your gleeful state.

“Someone’s in love.” She teases, coming over to tickle you.

“I’m not in love!”

“Oh, quit the act; I saw how the two of you said goodbye – you could barely hold yourself together. Drunk or not, I ain’t seen two adults giggling like that before.”

“Sh!” you swat her, “Not! In! Love!”

She takes a look into your eyes and observes your smile, then shakes her head. You're drowsy, so you make a dive into her bed and fall asleep almost instantly.

Shoko pulls a blanket over you, affectionately ruffling your hair.

“Madly in love, at the very least.”

[cthulhus-curse]

Rules & Regulations

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,125

Warnings: Dom!Mistress!Wanda Maximoff, Sub!Reader, Strap-Ons, Dacryphilia, Obedience Training | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: When you find yourself alone and stranded at a BDSM Club, you meet a mysterious woman who gives you more than you bargained for — not that you're complaining.

Warm lights hug your half-nude skin as you step through copious amounts of people. Normally you would find discomfort with such clothing, or lack thereof, covering your body. And yet with each individual surrounding you being far too engrossed in their own little worlds, your insecurities don’t rise up. No. Instead you hold your head up high, eyes partly twinkling as you make your way past the crowd of people and towards the bar – a lonely hearts convention. 

Darcy had been the one to give you the final push required to attend such an outing. And yet, as you look around, your friend is nowhere to be found. Part of you wishes to call her, to give the woman a piece of her mind for having flaked on you yet again for some time alone with Monica. Although you adored the manner in which Darcy had fallen for another, it was your fault you currently sat there, hand gripping an untouched glass of whiskey on the rocks, while flickering your eyes on the clean rim. 

Those around you are quiet as well. While appreciative of the comfort silence brings, you cannot help but be overwhelmed by it this time around. It mocks you as you bring the glass of alcohol to your lips, but you quickly pull it back down with a tender sigh. 

With your career as a data analyst for a tech company, there are not many moments where peace comes about with such ease. Instead you often sit around, eyelids growing heavy as those in your neighboring cubicles howl about. Not you though, because while others find joy in procrastination, someone has to do the work. 

Perhaps that is why Darcy of all people, who knew well of the stressors you constantly endured, had suggested a rather peculiar party for the two of you to attend. Not that you had shown interest in partaking in any of the intriguing activities that would take place there, but alas, Darcy gifted you an outfit right for the occasion. The dress is tight as it hugs you in all the right places – wrong ones in your mind – leaving little to nothing for another’s imagination. Each second that passed, more prying eyes found themselves stuck to you like glue. 

“Can I give you some unsolicited advice?”

The words make you jump, but oddly enough, it is the sultriness of the voice which brings forth a sense of comfort that brings you back down. 

Swiftly turning, you come to face a woman who, albeit of average height, seemingly towers over you with the elevated heeled boots she wears, ones which almost make it to her knees. Fishnets cover the bits of nude skin visible while a mixture of faux-leather straps and latex attire do a half-assed job at hiding her more intimate areas. Yet it is the straps around her waist which garner your attention, leaving your mouth embarrassingly agape as you fail to register the woman who sits in the opposing stool. 

“Sure,” you mumble out, wishing you had downed out the entirety of that drink, maybe even more, for the sake of finding the confidence you suddenly lack around the woman. “My name is Y/N and-”

“Not important,” she tells you. “I’m Wanda and I can tell it’s your first time here. So you might want to take my advice.”

Mirroring that of a deer-in-headlights, you shrug into yourself. “Is it really that obvious?”

“Very much so,” Wanda hums. You don’t know her, not yet anyway, but the manner in which her hand, with sharp bloodlusted fingernails, sneaks to your thigh in grips it brings a twinge of warmth between your legs. “Now, be a dear and listen up. You shouldn’t come to these things all by yourself. There are a lot of interesting characters here, some who don’t care much for the rules this lifestyle requires. It’s not safe for someone like you. New submissives are like fresh meat. Not long will pass until a vulture comes scavenge this…” There is no shame behind those green eyes as she gawks at you. A vulture herself. “Pretty girl.”

“Projecting a bit are we?” You shoot back. 

But the fire in your eyes, one you weren’t sure you could even light in her presence, is something that makes Wanda beam. “You seem like a big girl. I suppose you’ll have to find out all by yourself.”

“And if I don’t want to?” Regardless if you are strangers, you both know that is a complete lie. 

“That wasn’t a question, sweetheart,” Wanda says. She moves her leg up slightly, brushing it right against your own uncovered one. The hand on your thigh grows bolder, fiddling playfully with the hem of your dress that nearly fails at doing its one job. “Buy me a drink.”

“What would you like, Wanda?”

“A submissive should always know what her dominant wants. You do have a lot to learn, sweetheart. But I have to say, your boldness is adorable. I doubt it’ll last long,” Wanda chuckles dryly, making you shudder. “And while it’s the two of us, you will refer to me as ‘ma’am’. Do I make myself clear, sweet girl?”

Hunching over, you take in her words. “Well, we’ve only just met and I-”

“Don’t slouch, pet. It’s unbecoming for a pretty little thing such as yourself.” The order is barked in a way that makes time stand still, but so do you. Your back straightens out instantly with eyes wide as saucers ready for the next command. “Now. Are you ready to do as you are told?”

The evening turns into a mirage of sorts as time passes. The sound of skins slapping together alongside that of moans are drowned out in the background. Your sights are solely focused on the woman before you, only a handful of years older from what you can tell, yet who holds the reins you so-easily gave up. Your judgement is questioned once or twice, but in looking at her, you lose yourself all over again. Perhaps something good could come from being abandoned by your friend. All your decisions so far had led to a rather famished lioness to pounce on the easy prey that you were. 

You’re not quite sure why it is that she orders you to stand, rather than sit, by her side. But after having drunk your whiskey, maybe one or two extra ones coming after it as per Wanda’s request, there is not enough willpower in you to question it aloud. Instead you obediently stand there, holding Wanda’s gin & tonic on one hand while a rather hefty bag is carried by the other. But regardless of all the wandering looks you receive, never does your position give out. Not even when Wanda is sure you will upkeep your inhibitions. Little does she know, they were thrown right out the window as soon as you saw one another. 

Being half-ignored by the woman who is so keen on keeping you around draws hints of frustration from you. All that you wish for is that she turns around and finally makes you hers, that perhaps this night won’t be such a total waste of time and a cure for your stress can be found. 

But no.

Of course not. 

As though she can read your mind, Wanda stubbornly upkeeps light conversation with the bartender. Surely he can see you fuming from the redhead’s side, yet no one bats an eye. It is a long-lasting torture that leads you to grit your teeth, even slightly so, for the sole sake of not turning to putty by the slickness that has already begun setting between your thighs. But you power through it to the best of your ability. Right. Just power through it…

“Pet?” 

The voice makes you straighten out your back again involuntarily.

“Yes, W- ma’am?”

The near slip-up doesn’t make you shudder, but the harsh look you receive from the redhead creates an intrusion in your throat, making it impossible to swallow until you look away. Scarlet lips purse as they eye you, this time fully. Even if the both of you sit at the corner of the dingy bar within the confines of the club, you feel exposed. Those viridescent eyes pierce through your confidence, forcing you into a freezing position as Wanda takes over you. She watches even the slightest movements you make – the twitch in your fingers which turns solid as your fist tightens around her drink, the heaving of your chest that doesn’t soothe itself regardless of how badly you try, and even the bouncing of one of your feet on the floor which creates quite the obnoxious clicking sound. 

“I’m bored.” The dreadful words are ones which elicit a pang in your heart, but the follow-up quickly diminishes it. “Would you like to have some fun together? A sweet thing like you needs to be properly taken care of. Isn’t that right?” But you are far too excited to spew out even a singular word. “It’s alright, Y/N. You can speak.”

“Yeah.” Nodding, the ends of your mouth rise. “That’s right.”

Your comment makes the woman hum with approval. “Good girl. Now, come along. I wouldn’t want anyone to see my new toy. If there is something you must know about me, darling girl, it’s that I am very possessive over my property.” 

Wanda’s property. 

Sure, you could get used to that. Gladly so. 

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

“Safe-word?”

This time around, the lights are warmer and so are you. There is no longer a sea of voices or lewd noises surrounding you. Instead, there comes a semblance of peace as you lay back, your breath hitching here and there. You melt against the mattress covered by velvety sheets. Not that there is much sleeping that goes on in one of the private rooms at the club. If anything, more often than not there are numerous people packed as sardines there, enjoying close contact with one another. 

But not you. Well, not with such a large group anyway. Wanda has hypnotized you with ease, and soon you find yourself with your legs sprawled open, dress thrown aside along with your underwear, awaiting for the woman on the bed. The previously empty harness around her waist now is adorned by a rather thick red dildo, matching the hue of her lips, bigger than any you have taken. 

The bed dips as the Wanda takes her place above you. Her breathing is heavy matching that of your own. She hums, a hand moving to explore your nudity in a long, drawn out motion. Because much to your dismay, she is the type of person with enough prowess as a dominant to afford taking her time. All as you are driven to the brink of insanity. 

“Stardust.”

“Good girl,” Wanda tells you, and you nearly purr for her. “Do you still want this, darling? You need to know that at any point, you can put an end to this.”

“I know,” you nod. “Thank you.”

A pair of fingers is nimble as they eventually find themselves tapping oh-so softly at your inner thighs. You squirm slightly, but the ever-so-dominant woman holds you down. She flashes a stern look, huffing loud enough that you settle your misbehavior in an instant. The power she already has over you in the hours you have known one another is palpable. 

“I’ll take it slow for now, but I expect an obedient submissive such as yourself will take whatever she is given,” Wanda explains as she runs her fingers over your cunt. It’s already slick, she finds when pulling apart your folds, with juices that leave your inner thighs shining. With her free hand, Wanda raises your chin far enough for your gaze to fall flat on her. “You’ll be my good girl, right? And take whatever your mistress gives you?”

“Yes.”

But she isn’t delighted. Not yet. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good girl.” She flattens her hand on your pussy. “So beautiful and obedient for me. Just think of how much I can teach you…” The tips of her fingers drift up to your clit, pinching it with enough might that you scream; you can tell it only further turns Wanda on. “A willing toy ready to be molded into the perfect submissive. You have much to learn, sweetheart. But don’t worry. I'll be patient.” A slap, only for this time playful, lands on your pussy. “For now at least.” 

Nimbly, her fingers ease into you. You could lay back there and cry out, but a mouth that consumes your own soon swallows every noise stemming from the depths of your throat. Wanda consumes you – all of you. She ensures your relaxation as your inner walls tighten around her, yet with enough time and patience, find relief in the sudden intrusion. 

Soon you are in cloud-nine with Wanda who doesn’t dare attempt to pull you down. Her lips kiss you slowly at first, but turn harsh as she substitutes her digits, who formerly stretched you out so well, for the tip of the strap-on. It rubs against your gaping hole, mocking you with such a girthy appearance. Never had you taken something of the like, and yet there you were, your moans drowned out by Wanda’s mouth while she oh-so gently pushes herself back into you. 

There are tears in your eyes, but you soon find they further entice Wanda. She forces your legs further apart as her cock rams into you. No matter how many screams of need are let out, no one can save you. Not that you want it anyway. Especially not when the redhead is so keen on forcing tear after tear from your eyes, scoffing when you so much as try to wipe them away. 

“Leave them,” Wanda orders, her tone much darker than ever before. “You look gorgeous like this. All spread apart and willing to be broken by your mistress. What an adorable little thing you are, Y/N.”

“Mistress, I- ah!”

Her hips thrust themselves forth, successfully shoving the entirety of the dildo, previously drenched in extreme amounts of lubricant, in your cunt. You arch your back, but even if you so much attempt to free yourself from her grasp, Wanda is there to hold you down. 

“Stay still,” the throaty words almost sound like a plea; how gloriously maddening. “For me, sweet girl. Just let me take care of you.” Kisses are plastered across your jawline, trailing up and down to further intensify the reassurances Wanda gives out. “If you’re a good girl and take what your mistress gives you, then maybe you’ll be deserving of a reward.”

You try to hold Wanda to that, but as she begins setting a steady pace with her movements, your mind goes blank, similar to that of your knuckles as you grip the bedsheets for support. Her cock leaves you sated, moreso if anything. Its size and width are immense enough that you barely muster out coherent thoughts, much less words. All you are left to do is stare up at the other woman with your eyes bloodshot as fresh tears cascade down your cheeks. 

“That’s it,” Wanda pants, her lips mere inches from your own. She grips you tightly, her scarlet nails perforating your skin. But it doesn’t faze either of you. You find far too much joy in being feasted on in such a way. To have someone fully give you her attention, using your body as she pleases. And all you ask for in return is that connection which you instantly found in Wanda. “You’re such a good girl. Taking your mistress’ cock so fucking well. You love it, don’t you?” 

“Yes, mistress,” you are able to whimper out. 

All it does is draw out a chuckle from Wanda. “Naughty girl.”

The two of you move as one, grunting in loud manners as you are forcefully pounded by the thick cock. It hits you in your sweet spot once, twice…and by the time you are ready to let go, you lose count. Your features scrunch up while your legs, albeit shaky, wrap themselves around Wanda’s waist. This only urges her to go faster, to fuck you with the absolute might she has been holding back all this time. And by the gods does it successfully draw out an orgasm for you.

And eventually, numerous ones. 

Because when realization dawns upon you that Wanda is not keen on stopping, you try to frown – although far too exhausted to do so. Instead you rhythmically hum with every other thrust that follows. Rather than allow you to ride your climax in peace and quiet, the redhead keeps going. She bites down hard on your shoulder, surely leaving a nasty mark that you will proudly wear for the following days, as her faux dick breaks you in half.

This version of Wanda is unkind. She is rough and greedy as she takes, takes, and takes while you give out orgasm after orgasm. But her hunger is not easily sated as the two of you end up spending what feels like countless hours familiarizing yourselves with the other. She is an animal who carnally engulfs you in a trap. One that you saw coming from miles away, yet happily placed yourself in. 

All for Wanda. 

By the time she is done with you, your eyelids are far too heavy to dare open them. All you see is a silhouette hovering over you, her sweet lips kissing along the expanse of your neck before suckling lightly. Wanda was right – she is quite possessive over her property. 

“You exceeded my expectations for someone so new,” Wanda tells you, and while you can’t find the will to reply, your chest swells up with pride. “Don’t worry, sweets. You can rest for a bit now. I’ll keep you company until you find it in you to speak. But until then, I’ll be there to watch over you.” 

But you don’t reply, not that you can. Instead you nod, at least you hope you did, with understanding of her words. The melodic hums that fill the room do wonders to lull you into a deep sleep. With Wanda, you can only pray, watching over you. 

You aren’t sure how much time passes, but when you rise from your impromptu slumber, the redhead is nowhere to be found. Looking around the room, you frown at what you catch sight of. The bottle of lubricant you had used, nearly empty by now, sits right next to the cleaned dildo. All with a note to bring it together. 

I had fun. Make sure you prepare yourself for our next meeting. I look forward to it.  - W.M.

[captain-joongz]

Tits out

Pairing: best friend!Wooyoung x f!reader

Genre: bffs to ??, college au, pure smut, barely any plot, fluff, humour

Summary: When talking to your best friend about your nipple piercing during movie night backfires in the most spectacular way possible and Seonghwa's new couch gets caught in the crossfire

Word count: cca 7k

Warnings: reader is chubby, there's no discussion, they just jump into it, titty sucking, nipple and nipple piercing fixation, unprotected sex (this is pure fantasy, be careful in the real world), a little bit of body insecurity about body hair, fingering, doggy, squirting (let me know if i missed anything)

I had met Wooyoung back in the first year in uni and now four years later we were still going strong. The man that walked in confidently into a lecture hall, bee-lined straight for the empty space next to me and was sitting down before I even comprehended his question of “is this seat taken?���, who then proceeded to talk my ear off and invite himself for lunch with me, was quite easy to befriend, believe it or not. After sitting next to him a few times and going for lunch later, I’d managed to get out of my shell a little too and soon we were two merry extroverts steamrolling through university hip to hip. He’d become one of my best friends, one of my closest friends and a person that understood me almost perfectly. We knew we could count on each other completely and trusted each other blindly.

I was introduced into his friend group, and he was into mine and we often hung out together in huge groups of rowdy younglings, going dancing and spending weekends eating too much junk food and watching bad movies someone had put on, but no one really paid attention to besides the occasional joke about its stupidity. I couldn’t count how many times I’ve done something extremely stupid while hanging out with them and was heavily encouraged by both Wooyoung and San. It was the most fun I’ve had though, and that’s what really mattered.

Now I was already out of school, but Wooyoung and most of his friends were continuing with their studies. Due to this, we tried to hang out every Friday, but a lot of the time it ended up being just me and him or even just me sitting in their living room watching Netflix waiting who makes it home first. It was like my second home at this point, and no one was phased when I showed up out of the blue and sat on the couch like I owned it. Especially since Seonghwa bought the new one, that one was extremely comfortable.

Usually, Friday night was a hang out and movie night for me and Wooyoung anyway, but today I was a woman on a mission. A few months ago, I had gotten a nipple piercing. It wasn’t my first one (though it was definitely the most painful one) so I wasn’t extremely worried about it, but lately it has been acting up a little. It usually didn’t hurt but sometimes there would be this slight discomfort around it and I’ve even noticed some slight scabbing even months later. I knew realistically that it was most likely okay, but my anxious nervous little brain had managed to convince me that I’m going to lose my tit or something. That’s why I needed a second opinion. And that’s where Wooyoung came in.

Tonight, I was making my way towards their flat knowing I’m about to ask Wooyoung for the weirdest favour one ever could, but it should be okay, right? We were such close friends, it definitely wasn’t a big deal, right? You normally asked your friends to take a look at your tits and tell you whether there’s something weird about one of them, that was just a usual Friday, no?

I checked the group chat again and confirmed that it would be just me and Woo tonight and then made my way to their building’s door. They lived on the fourth floor without an elevator, which would normally be a minus, but since it was an old warehouse made into an apartment building, their flat was actually massive and housed all of them without a problem, so I graciously sacrificed myself and stomped up the stairs a few times a week to see their faces (and eat their food).

Upon arriving to the flat, I found Woo busy making something in the kitchen, humming lightly while whipping cream like a 50s housewife.

“What you up to?” I asked casually strolling into the room, making Wooyoung jump with shock. “Jesus fucking Christ, you sneak in all the time and yet I still get scared by you,” he said and put his hand over his heart. I slapped his shoulder and peeked at what he was making.

“You literally gave me the keys, Wooyoung, I’m hardly sneaking in,” I said and rolled my eyes at him. He just laughed and pushed me out of the kitchen. “Shut up and start choosing the movie or I know we’ll just end up scrolling through Netflix for hours like always,” he shouted over his shoulder and went back to whatever snack he was making.

As I sat on the couch, I was steeling myself for what I was about to ask him, trying to figure out how to bring it up. No time like the present, right. I mindlessly scrolled through the movies, but really I was waiting for Woo to join me in the living room. Then finally he came in through the door, a plate of little cheesy snacks in one hand and a bowl of popcorn in the other. I was just about to open my mouth, but he cheekily winked at me and made his way back to the kitchen. When he returned, he was holding a little tray with two cups of hot chocolate, the coke and two glasses.

He finally joined me on the couch and for a while we both just sat there, arguing about whether we want to watch a comedy or a thriller, while I was thinking how to broach the subject. But in the end, I didn’t even need to do that. In the middle of my sentence about how I’m not watching another stupid horror movie about nothing, Wooyoung suddenly turned to me and just gave me this look. And I knew I was done playing around. I stopped in the middle of talking and stared at him. He grinned.

“Okay, just spill it,” he said when I stayed silent for too long.

“What do you mean?” I attempted to stray away from the topic until I was ready, but he’d already saw through me. “Really?” he asked incredulously, “I’ve known you for years, you think I don’t recognise when you want to talk about something? Just spill the beans already.” I heaved a deep sigh and then turned on the couch to face him. He was still grinning.

“Okay, this might be really weird, but just bear with me for a while, okay?” I started. While I was slightly worried about the piercing, I also couldn’t help but fear Woo’s reaction, after all this wasn’t exactly a normal thing to ask your friend. I knew worst case scenario he’ll just say no and laugh it off, but still. He looked a little more serious for a moment, but then I continued talking. “I need you to look at my tits, okay?”

Wooyoung looked at me shocked for a moment and then bursted out laughing. I just glared at him annoyed. “Hear me out-“ I started but he cut me off. “Is this about like being insecure about them? You want me to look at them and say they’re okay? Y/N, you know your tits are amazing-“ he was going on and on, but this time it was me who cut him off.

“God, no, nothing like that,” I shut him up embarrassed. While it was true that I was slightly insecure about my plump figure, I loved my boobs, I knew they looked great. They were simply just right, it was one of the things I loved about my body. Wooyoung sensed that it must be something more serious and gestured for me to continue.

“You know I got the piercing, but lately it started to act up a little and I’m getting nervous and I just need you to look and tell me it looks fine,” I got out in one breath and he just stared at me. “Okay…? Why don’t you look into the mirror?” he asked, genuinely curious. “I have, but since I’m getting so nervous about it, I need a second opinion,” I explained, “Come on Woo, I know it’s a super weird and gross request, but help me out here.” Wooyoung laughed again and smirked at me.

“Gross and weird?” he repeated, “Not only I’ll see a nipple and a piercing, but I’ll also see a boob and a nipple with a piercing, that’s like some of the best things in this world combined together.” I slapped his shoulder again, but we both laughed this time.

“You’re the worst, god,” I said laughing, “I’m surprised you haven’t died over being such a fucking horndog all the time yet.” He laughed too and then gestured to my top.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, just shut up and pull your tits out,” he joked and made himself comfortable on one end of the couch. I wasn’t particularly shy about showing my body, so it wasn’t that hard to bare myself like this. Hell, me and Woo have probably seen each other naked a few times but just didn’t care enough.

I pulled the two straps of my top off my shoulders and bunched the fabric around my waist, then reached around to my back to take off my bra. When it hit the floor Wooyoung’s full attention was suddenly on my chest, and it flustered me a little. I fought the instinct to cover myself with my arms and instead just sat there, topless with my best friend intensely staring at my boobs.

“So?” I asked anxiously, “What do you think?” He suddenly straightened up and it brought us quite close to each other. “That you have really great tits,” he said absent-mindedly, his hands raising on instinct as if going to squish them. I flushed and swatted at them. “Yeah, I know,” I said annoyed, “that’s not what I asked though.” That seemed to break him out of it a little bit and he hunched down so his face was on level with my chest. I face-palmed and hoped no one would come home unannounced, cause this would be damn hard to explain.

“No, yeah I think it’s okay,” Woo said after a while, “I mean, the pierced one looks a little different, but that’s to be expected. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.” I relaxed at hearing him say so and felt the tension leave me at once. But I just needed a little more to feel completely at ease.

“Can you like… touch it to see if it’s weirdly warm or if there’s some weird texture or something?” I asked embarrassed and quickly looked to the side when Woo’s head whipped up to look at me. “You want me to what now?” he questioned me flabbergasted.

“I don’t know, dude! You’re the one that gets into contact with tits, you’ll know if there’s something wrong with it!” I started hurriedly explaining myself, growing more flustered by the minute. Wooyoung stayed quiet for a moment and then sighed. I thought this was finally the line that was too far for him, but then his hand suddenly flew up and stopped just millimetres from my nipple. We both just sat there, holding our breath, not knowing where to look, when he slowly brought his fingers in contact with my skin. I gasped quietly, but in the silence it was still audible. I flushed in embarrassment and refused to look anywhere else except for the wall by the TV.

Wooyoung’s fingers messed around a little, pressing down on the nipple and gently squeezing it, also lightly touching onto the piercing. Surprisingly enough, what I felt wasn’t pain like I feared. With every soft brush of his fingers over the sensitive skin, a little bolt of pleasure shot through me and I had to fight to keep myself from gasping more or arching into his touch. I felt the blush spreading over my face and completely mortified I noticed beginnings of a scorching wet heat between my legs.

Then suddenly his hand was gone and he was clearing his throat. The silence that set between us was broken and we both started shifting around, not knowing what to do with the situation we found ourselves in.

“I think it’s totally fine,” he said, his voice somewhat hoarse, but I was so embarrassed I barely even registered it.

“Oh thank god, I was really getting nervous,” I said and laughed a little awkwardly. Wooyoung wasn’t saying anything and just sat in front of me tensely, so I assumed it was good and he just needed a moment to shake off the sudden awkward atmosphere, and turned around to find my bra. That was a rookie mistake though. The moment my eyes left Wooyoung, he striked. As I was searching the floor with my eyes, suddenly what felt like a lightning strike went through my whole body. My back arched on instinct, and I toppled backwards onto the couch with a loud moan.

Wooyoung’s mouth has attached itself onto my pierced nipple and he sucked again, another shock pulsing through me and pleasure suddenly flooding my senses. My hands flew to his shoulders, but instead of pushing him away I just pulled him closer. I myself wasn’t sure of what was happening or what we were doing, but it felt too good to dwell on it and I definitely didn’t hate it.

Wooyoung moved closer and made himself comfortable between my spread thighs, his mouth busy sucking and licking around my piercing. I was letting out tiny breathy moans, my legs instinctively pulling him closer to my core, hoping for a little friction.

“What… what are you doing?” I finally gathered my wits and asked breathlessly. I looked down to see the top of his head moving around. He peaked up to look at me and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I’ve never been with a girl that has a nipple piercing, I couldn’t help myself,” he explained, and I rolled my eyes at him.

“You damn horndog,” I muttered, but didn’t push him away or stop him. That gave him confidence to continue, and he smirked at me, as one of his hands brushed down my front until he was slightly pushing on my clit through my clothes and I arched again. He moved to the other nipple and played with it a little, while his unoccupied hand moved to my other breast, touching it teasingly, squeezing it slightly and thumbing the piercing.

“It’s so sensitive,” he murmured and watched his hand completely fascinated. I was about to retort something, but he chose that moment to bite at my breast and move up to leave wet hot kisses on my neck and a loud moan came out instead. It’s been so long since I’ve been with someone, and I was starting to worry I might utterly embarrass myself. One of my hands sneaked down between our bodies, trying to encourage him to touch me properly instead of just gently pressing, but he caught it and pulled it up to my shoulder. Suddenly he was towering over me, smirking at me and just generally being a menace. I arched again, this time trying to push our lower halves together, but he avoided me with a laugh.

“God, please, Wooyoung just touch me,” I begged him as the desperation from the scorching heat cursing through my veins was taking over, throwing everything into the wind and fully committing to getting fucked by my best friend. He kept smirking and propped himself up over me on his elbow.

“Touch you, huh?” he said and suddenly his hand was back to teasing my clit, this time with more force. I keened and pushed up into him, suddenly embarrassedly realising just how wet I’d gotten from such small ministrations. He chuckled watching me, head diving to take my pierced nipple into his mouth again, gently playing with it with his tongue and scraping his teeth over it. I jerked and my hands flew into his hair, holding him in place so that he’d never stop, my mouth falling open on a silent moan, too overwhelmed by the sensation to properly function. He slowly moved up to my neck, peppering kisses and small bites along the way, while his fingers moved in little circles over my clothed clit.

I was so turned on I could die, I needed him to touch me properly – like stuff me full of his long beautiful fingers. And I told him as such. And he laughed at me.

“Aw, such a little desperate angel, aren’t you?” Wooyoung whispered into my skin. I whined his name, hoping it would speed him up. He scoffed at me playfully but moved away to pull my shorts off, grabbing them with one hand and pulling them down in one swoop; leaving me a little breathless and only in a bunched up top around my middle, while Wooyoung was still fully clothed. I started pulling his shirt off and he obliged, flinging it to the other side of the room eagerly.

Woo sat back on his heels between my spread thighs to take me in and I started to feel shy again, hands moving to grab onto him and pull him back onto me, but he pushed my arms back into the couch and held them there for a moment, before sitting back again.

“No, no, angel, I’m looking at your pretty pussy,” he teased me, hands grabbing at my full thighs to keep them spread wide. I looked down and suddenly an insecurity reared its head again. About two years ago I had stopped shaving in my intimate area, only trimming it a little, cause it irritated my skin too much and the last time I was about to get some, the guy called me disgusting. Wooyoung was currently watching me like a starved man in front of a feast, but still I nervously covered myself with my hands. His eyes flicked up to me, questioning, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Sorry,” was all I said, mad at myself that I couldn’t even properly get out why I was suddenly so uncomfortable, and he looked at me all confused. “What are you sorry for?” he asked, but then realisation lit up his eyes and he moved to stand up from the couch, “Did you change your mind? You know it’s okay to tell me.” I looped my legs around his waist to pull him back to me and he fell forward with an “oof”. This pressed his erect cock to my core as he held himself up with his hands right by my head and we both moaned at the contact. My legs kept encouraging him to grind into me and for a moment we both just breathlessly moved against each other, Woo releasing little moans and sighs into the heated air between us, and I watched his half-lidded eyes slowly become hazy with pleasure, utterly fascinated.

“So I guess no changing of minds,” he chuckled on a small groan as his hips started thrusting a little harsher against me, losing all rationality and just chasing pleasure. “No, nothing like that,” I whispered back and pulled him for a kiss for the first. As soon as our lips touched, we started hungrily devouring each other, moaning into each other’s mouths and our hands grabbing onto each other desperately. I ended up helplessly grabbing onto his back and most probably leaving red scratches in my wake.

After a moment Woo pulled away, sat back on his heels again and I whined and tried to pull him back, leading him to laugh at me once more; but his fingers went straight for my pussy, spreading it open and sliding through the wetness there. As if placated, I immediately stopped whining and arched my back more, begging for his touch.

“What was that about before?” he asked slightly breathless and I could see he was being serious, even though his finger started slowly circling my clit and playing around. I could barely concentrate on explaining as I was too busy drowning in the liquid pleasure spreading through my entire body.

“Just a little… hng- a little insecure about- about my hair,” I answered while writhing around, simultaneously wanting more and hoping he’d stop so that I could explain properly. His eyes immediately flicked down between my legs just as his finger slid down and slowly slipped into me. I moaned loudly, hands grabbing and squeezing the couch. His gaze was trained on my hole as he pumped his finger in a few times and then quickly slid in a second one.

“Fuck, you’re so wet..” he whispered, still watching his fingers slowly fucking into me, his other hand going to squeeze his erection still tenting his sweats. My mouth was hanging open, eyes unfocused, noises just pouring out as I was finally feeling full for the first time. But then suddenly he pulled his fingers out and focused on me again. I actually sobbed out, trying to close my legs to keep his hand from leaving, but they were still kept spread by his hips.

“Why would you be insecure about it?” Wooyoung whispered and it took me a moment to remember what we were talking about before. I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at him, sitting between my spread legs with an obvious erection in sweats stained by my wetness from our grinding before. I flushed again and tore my eyes away from his cock, only to catch his smug smirk. I schooled my expression and said: “The last guy I was with called it disgusting. Said he’s not Columbus to be exploring the rainforest.” Wooyoung scoffed.

“What a fucking asshole, who even comes up with shit like that?” he asked incredulously, “Well, clearly he’s a fucking coward, but thankfully… I’ve always liked a little bit of adventure.” He said the last bit all flirty, winking like an absolute sleaze and I just knew something awful was coming. “Besides,” he said while pressing himself into me again, “the rainforest is the perfect place for my anaconda.” I groaned, but this time from pure embarrassment at his jokes while he cackled like a madman. I pushed him away and started to turn around so that I could stand up.

“God, I changed my mind, get off of me,” I said morosely, but he just grabbed my hips and used the momentum to turn me around and get me on all fours, then pressed us together. A bolt of arousal shot through me, and my arms buckled under my weight, my face pressing into the couch while my ass stayed propped up by Wooyoung, pressed into his hips.

“Actually, this is quite a good idea,” he said grinding into me, “I always knew you’d love to be fucked like this.” He bent over me, his chest pressing into my back as he whispered straight into my ear. “Pressed down like this, taken from behind quick, rough and dirty,” he murmured, “Put nicely in your place…” I moaned unabashed, hips pushing back onto his cock on their own and lust making itself painfully known again; in response I could feel Wooyoung’s hands tightening on my skin and suddenly he pulled back to hurriedly tug his sweats down. His hands made their home on my hips, squeezing and pulling, keeping me pressed into him, his cock slotting between my thighs and sliding along my wet pussy. I keened and attempted to grind back, but he held me as his hips pulled back.

“God, please,” I begged, “Please, Wooyoung, give it to me…” He held himself with one hand and I heard him chuckle. “You want it?” he teased. I felt the head of his cock gently teasing around my hole, slightly pushing in and pulling out again. I sobbed exasperated and nodded, face mushed into the couch and hands grabbing onto the throw pillows, my whole body just fucking screaming for his cock to spear me through and through, cunt spasming and tightening around nothing.

“Yes! Yes, please!” I cried and he finally slid inside in one slow thrust. I moaned with relief and sagged into the couch a little, finally getting what I’ve been wanting this whole time. Wooyoung groaned behind me and his hands dug into the skin of my hips, pushing us impossibly together. The feeling of fullness satisfied something wild and primal in me and I found myself struggling to close my mouth, too blissed out to do anything.

He stilled for a moment to get us both accustomed to the feeling, but clearly both of us were too horny to wait even a little longer, because the second I pushed my hips back into him, he started slowly grinding in small circles and it wasn’t long before it shifted into shallow thrusts punching out little gasps out of me.

I only had to whine out “please!” once to get Wooyoung to speed up and pound into me in a much faster pace, to both of our reliefs. Woo’s cool had quickly melted away into a desperate quick pace that had tiny whiny moans spilling out of him. I wasn’t fairing much better, the slide of his cock along my walls from this angle was absolutely heavenly and within few moments had me absolutely losing my already frayed mind. With my head turned away from the cushions I found myself unable to close my mouth, moans freely slipping out and bouncing off of the walls of the living room. Embarrassingly enough I could feel a string of drool coming out of the corner of my mouth onto the couch, but I couldn’t force myself to care when Wooyoung was fucking me so good.

It quickly became obvious we were both too horny and turned on to keep any kind of decorum, so we descended into a messy filthy fucking, Woo eventually bending over me and plastering his chest to my back, mouthing and biting at my neck in between grunts and groans. Just thinking about how deliciously I was filled with his cock had me moaning loudly, Wooyoung chuckling as if he wasn’t the same, losing his mind over the tight wet heat enveloping him in a torturous hug.

I found myself quickly spiralling, the molten pleasure pumping through my body at an alarming speed. I reached back and pulled at Wooyoung’s hips, forcing him to shift his leg a little closer and putting his hips a little higher over mine, giving him perfect access to that one spot deep inside of me with every thrust. I lost all control over my body then, taken over by the all-consuming pleasure, the moans coming out higher and louder with every thrust.

“God- ah aah-“ I panted out, hands digging into the pillows looking for any kind of purchase to withstand the onslaught of sensations, “I- I’m cumming so-soon.” Wooyoung giggled breathlessly into my shoulder and his hips suddenly gained back a little more direction, aiming to hit the spot with every slam into me, slowly speeding up until he was railing me like a madman, the wet squelch of my cunt and slapping of skin on skin accompanying the cacophony of our joined pleasure. I wailed, unable to keep up with the mounting climax, almost screaming on every thrust inlaid with little gasps, groans and cut off gibberish pouring out of my mouth. It felt as if my entire body lit up, the bliss becoming a little too much for me to properly register beyond “Oh god! Oh yes!” ringing through every inch of my very being.

Then Wooyoung’s hand moved to my tit again and squeezed and pinched the pierced nipple few times, even giving it some light slaps. My whole body seized up on a lightning strike of pleasure and the orgasm hit me like an actual truck, getting thrown over the edge so unexpectedly and with such force that I gave one last wheezing cry, mind blanking out and all I could register was the white ecstasy pouring through me, out of me, as if my entire body was made out of it, every nerve screaming with it.

Distantly I registered Wooyoung’s startled cries and moans, his hips jerking against mine quickly and erratically, his hands back on my hips tightening until I could feel his nails biting into my skin and was sure I’d have a nice set of imprints for at least the rest of the day. Then he stilled over me, cock pushed as deep inside as it could go, pulsing and throbbing as the cum poured out in thick spurts. His deep groan of satisfaction reverberated through my whole body since he was still pressed into my back tightly, letting me enjoy the moment with him.

As if invisible strings were cut, we both collapsed into the couch and hazily I realised I only stayed upright because Wooyoung was holding me so he could fuck me harder. After few minutes my mind slowly started coming back, body tiredly catching up, registering the pleasurable ordeal it just went through. I could feel my pussy throbbing, hot and wet from being thoroughly fucked and filled with Woo’s release, my hips hurting from the pounding. I was almost expecting to see bruises all over me.

For a few moments only laboured breathing was heard through the room as we both recovered, the haze gradually lifting, allowing us to come to terms with what had just happened between us. Surprisingly, it didn’t feel awkward at all. It may have been because I was still lying boneless, unable to speak from the force of the orgasm with Wooyoung’s softening cock still wedged deep inside of my pussy, but I found myself quite comfortable squished into the couch, feeling his shallow breaths in the crook of my neck and his thumping heart against my back. I wondered if he could feel mine, as it was beating just as wildly.

But the comfy silence was broken by the man himself, when he whistled and said: “Wow, I had no idea you could do that.” There was a little teasing undertone to his statement, but mostly I could detect only giddy wonder and pride.

“Do what?” my words still a little slurred, because I was still recovering the functions of my brain and fighting sleep, so deeply sated I could barely hold a full thought.

“Squirt,” Woo stated matter-of-factly, his hands beginning to gently caress my sides to help me come down. “Huh?” I said eloquently and turned to look at him. He just gave me a soft grin, eyes squinting in joy as he took in my state. “I did what?” the question was more rhetorical and I wasn’t even really talking to Wooyoung, rather I started to squirm trying to look down as if my pussy held the answer. And in some way it did. When I managed to lift up my hips a little, my whole body protesting and Wooyoung behind me grunting at the jostling of his soft cock, hands digging into my hips to try and hold me still, I saw that the couch beneath us was absolutely soaked. Slight panic seized me, I didn’t even know why, it was just a natural reaction of my tired brain to the information that apparently Wooyoung, my best friend, had made me squirt for the first time in my life, all over Seonghwa’s lovely sofa. Well, at least it did explain why the orgasm had been so fucking intense, feeling as if the soul left my body and astral projected into a parallel universe.

The squirming dislodged Wooyoung from me and a splat of his cum joined the already huge stain on the furnishing. Now I winced, realising that there was no way either of us was surviving this. Unceremoniously I plopped back down into the mess and turned to Wooyoung, who was sweaty and rosy-cheeked, watching me with amusement.

“Seonghwa is going to fucking murder us,” I muttered tiredly, already back to fighting sleep off now that I was lying again. I let my eyes fall shut and only heard Wooyoung’s answering laugh, only felt him get up from the couch and gently roll me over on my back. There was shuffling, rustling of clothes and footsteps around the living room, but I couldn’t find the strength to look at what was Woo doing, letting myself drift on the high and the aftershocks that were still coursing through me.

Wooyoung was humming somewhere in the apartment and then there was a gentle touch on my hip. I whined but let him do what he needed. A warm wet towel was pressed onto my stomach lightly in lieu of warning and I slowly opened my legs again, feeling the strain and the burn that just hurt so good. Woo tenderly cleaned me up with soft unhurried strokes, then helped me sit up against the pillows to try and put some clothes back on me.

I blearily opened my eyes and blinked at him. Wooyoung was kneeling on the floor in front of me wearing only his sweats and holding his black tee. When he saw I was back in the land of living, he slowly pulled it over my head and helped my arms into the sleeves. I was feeling all warm and fuzzy from his sudden softness, thoroughly enjoying this after-care, suddenly found myself overtaken by the violent need to cuddle and sleep it off, so I was just about to suggest that, when he suddenly sprung to his feet and pulled me up with him. I let myself be man-handled with only a slight surprised yelp, but suddenly standing I realised my legs still weren’t in working order, if my shaking buckling knees were anything to go by, so I just grabbed onto his shoulders and hoped he wouldn’t let me fall.

He didn’t. Another nicely warm towel was now wiping my butt of anything I had been sitting in, his hand gently patting it before putting me back onto the couch in the area that was dry.

I wanted to sleep, but I was too amused by the picture of Wooyoung standing in front of the huge wet stain with a deep thinking expression on his face, wracking his brain for anything to do about it. When a giggle escaped me, suddenly his eyes were on me with a mischievous glint.

“You made the mess and now you laugh at me when I’m trying to save our lives?” he asked jokingly, amusement lacing his tone. I giggled again and curled around one of the pillows, fully committed to watching the comedy unfold. Wooyoung just sighed and looked at the couch as if it murdered his first-born.

“I gotta come up with something before-“ his voice was cut off by the door suddenly opening and a commotion coming in. There were three voices happily chattering something and I could recognise the guys from that. With terror I met Wooyoung’s eyes the moment we registered Seonghwa as one of the voices. Before any of us could even move a muscle, the three men walked into the room and promptly froze in their tracks.

“Holy shit!” It was San who shouted that, but we were focused on the cacophony of emotion going through Seonghwa’s face seconds before he cried out “MY COUCH!!” on the top of his lungs. There was genuine anguish and betrayal in his voice before his eyes redirected from the stain to us with pure fury.

“Okay! Time to take a shower!” Wooyoung shouted and pulled me up, but ended up supporting my entire body when my knees buckled and I was balancing on shaking legs like a new-born fawn. From this angle I could see the pure amusement and approval on San’s face right next to the disgusted traumatised Yeosang. I blushed furiously and let Wooyoung drag me off to a bathroom, where he sat me gently on the toilet.

“I’m going back out,” he whispered with determination as if he was about to walk into a battlefield, leaving his wounded comrade in the safety, knowing there was only death outside. I snickered at him and he theatrically waved at me from the door, before walking out and shutting it behind him.

I could still fairly clearly hear everything go down though, especially when only moments later Yeosang popped in to give me my clothes and stuff I left on the table and didn’t close the door fully after him. My phone was vibrating like crazy, which could only mean San was already blessing the group chat with all the piping hot tea. I unlocked it and clicked on the notifs.

Mountain man: lolol woo and y/n fucked on the couch and completely ruined it

Princess: ew fuck you wooyoung

Muscle baby: i’ll never fucking use the living room again

Brat: 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️

The situation unfolding in chat was interrupted by the scene that was going on in the living room in the real time.

“Calm down, I’ll think of something,” Wooyoung’s voice carried through, trying to console Hwa only to be followed by another shriek of “BUT MY COUCH!!”.

“Wow Wooyoung, I really thought better of you,” Sannie teased, adding oil to fire and I could clearly hear his laughs. No signs of Yeosang, but he was probably just standing there watching it all go down.

“I spent months picking it out!” the level of hysteria was steadily rising in Hwa’s voice and I really slowly started fearing for Woo’s life. “I’m gonna have it dry cleaned or something,” the said man offered only to be met with more shrieking.

“You better fucking throw that thing out, there’s no way I’m sitting on it after this,” San added very unhelpfully to the conversation, “especially since I saw the state of it.” There was a beat of silence during which I imagined Wooyoung was throwing daggers at San with his gaze for stirring more shit into it.

“I’ll buy a new one,” was his final plea and while it was met with some more grumbling and fake-crying, I could hear the situation calming down.

Captain: what the fuck is happening there when i’m not home

Mountain man: fornication

Demon angel: disgusting

M o t h e r: MY COUCH

M o t h e r: my amazing couch in the perfect shade of blue that i was looking for

M o t h e r: DEAD AND DEFILED

Puppy: i’ll help you look for a new one, hyung

Mountain man: wooyoung already agreed to buy a new one since he was the cause of the *suspiciously* large stain

Captain: no details

Captain: never any details

Captain: first rule of fight club

xoxo from hell: 🤔🤔

xoxo from hell: i think

Princess: oooh she breaks her silence

xoxo from hell: that a certain man here in this chat should rather shut up considering last week i walked in on him fucking a girl on the kitchen table

Brat: oop-

Mountain man: Y/N

Mountain man: NO

Demon angel: 🤮

Muscle baby: RIGHT WHERE WE EAT???!!!

Puppy: eat pussy apparently

Princess: nice

Captain: don’t encourage him

“MY KITCHEN TABLE?!” Seonghwa’s scream sounded through the flat just as Wooyoung slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him with a wide grin. Distantly I could hear San’s pleading and general chaos as Hwa no doubt started raining fury upon him.

“Nice save,” Wooyoung smirked at me and started ridding us of clothes so we could finally take the shower we both desperately needed. The feeling of the hot water hitting my spent and pleasantly aching body relaxed me and I sighed with content. I was basically ready to melt into a puddle right there, sleep slowly rearing its head back up, so I just went with the motion and let Woo soap us both up and rinse us, I let him dry me and put a fresh tee on me that I didn’t even notice he brought with him. I was just watching him with eyes half closed and a doped out smile on my face.

“You’re so cute like this,” Woo muttered as he led me through the hall to his room, amusement and fondness filling his voice with uncharacteristic gentle sweetness. Upon entering his room I immediately beelined for the bed and burrowed myself between the blankets and pillows. Woo rummaged around in his closet for a moment, but it was the only sound I could hear as the apartment suddenly fell almost eerily quiet.

“If I’m so cute now,” I finally mumbled out from underneath the cozy pile, “maybe you should fuck me more often then.” That had Wooyoung turning around to face me with a mischievous grin. “I fully intend to do that,” he said devilishly and jumped in with me. It took a bit of shuffling to get into a comfortable spooning position, but we were no strangers to cuddling each other, so it went rather smoothly.

Just as the sleep was claiming me and I felt myself getting pulled under, Woo suddenly perked up and said: “You don’t think the silence means hyung murdered San and now Yeosang’s helping him get rid of the body, right?” I snickered gently, but just swatted at him to lay back down.

“Well, he probably deserved it,” Woo muttered and snuggled in closer to me, letting the exhaustion finally lull us to sleep. And it was the most comfortable sleep I’ve had in a while, even if San potentially paid for it with his life.

Divider from the amazing @saradika-graphics 💜

A/N: hope you enjoyed yourself, don't be shy I'm always open to comments and asks!!

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

first of all, this is all legit, and not bait, though i have a feeling it may come off that way, this did happen to me. please don't publish if tumblr sends it off anon.

i'm a lesbian with gender dysphoria, and while i haven't had much sexual experience, i would consider myself a stone top. in the last year and a half i began reading "terf"/radical feminist writings and reading "terf" tumblr blogs fairly actively, largely out of frustration with misogyny i was experiencing IRL. though i never engaged with the community i did stop identifying as genderfluid and started understanding my dysphoria as stemming from the trauma of being bullied by other girls for having a high-androgen DSD, and using different pronouns/transition thoughts as unhealthy coping mechanisms. i'm happy with this, but i also don't know if i'm attracted to women anymore.

i've always been attracted to women in a way that's stereotypically guy-like; i find feminine women very attractive and not so much fellow(?) butches, want to penetrate with a strap on, don't like bush much, cursory interest in BDSM/daddy kink. i read/watched het erotica and porn sometimes and identified with the man. what i read problematized pretty much every aspect of that- femininity as a cage, penetration as violence/straps as disidentification w the female body, infantilization of women, bdsm as abuse etc. also, desisting making me more conscious of dysphoria/knowledge of how extensive sexual dimorphism is putting me off both women with larger breasts and hips AND smaller breasts and hips/unrealistically masculine body types as well. so a lot of what turned me on before isn't arousing anymore, or i feel guilty about it, and i haven't been able to find butch4butch stuff which is much healthier very interesting.

i consider my sexuality healthier now on a political level but my ability to get aroused/jerk off has plummeted (used to be i could jork it sunrise to sunset) and thinking about being in a relationship w another woman makes me feel uneasy and weird, especially since a lot of what i read emphasized reciprocative cunnilingus/tribbing (which i don't like) as the healthiest sex options. i also think about both my dysphoria and my sexuality issues 100x more than i did before, even though i was promised the opposite (freedom from dysphoria and feeling happier as a lesbian), and it's stressing me out day-to-day. i'm aware based on your general ethos that you probably think i'm a terrible person right now, but i figured it'd be useful to seek the opinion of someone who radically disagrees with what i've read on what i could/should do next, since i admittedly miss being at peace with my sexuality.

thanks for reading.

hi there anon,

it's a bummer that you'd think I would assume you're a terrible person based on everything you've told me here. I generally try not to consider people terrible unless they're actively being shitheads or hurting other people, which doesn't sound at all like you're describing. from what you've told me, you've been up to your eyes in some information that's made you feel deeply uncomfortable in your sexuality and now you're seeking out a new perspective to help you make sense of that hurt. that describes most of the people who send me questions!

it's so striking to me that much of what you're describing is very reminiscent of what's recounted in The Persistent Desire, an anthology of writings on butch/femme identities edited by femme historian and archivist Joan Nestle that was released in 1992. in various essays and interviews countless butches and femmes recount their discomfort with the feminist turn against butch and femme identities that too place in the 70s, when both roles were declared problematic recreations of heterosexuality and summarily decried as politically "incorrect" for lesbians. it's shocking to me how much what you've described echoes these accounts experienced by lesbians half a century ago - the disowning of women who are "excessively" feminine or masculine, the demonizing of penetrative sex, general insistence that there are "correct" sex acts that every lesbian is supposed to enjoy, and the deep discomfort and insecurity that this causes among people who don't fit into the very rigid standards of proper lesbian identity set forth.

here's a link to a PDF, if that's interesting to you at all. it's very long, so feel free not to read it straight through; it's a great project to skim and an incredible way to get in touch with the lesbians who came before us. their accounts of their lives are so wildly different from the boundaries of "good" queer representation that feel so universal today; in discussing their own lives many of these women speak very bluntly about their experiences with abuse, drugs, sex work, and violence. it's a great glimpse into the lives and history of a lot of very ordinary lesbians just living their lives, and I'm very grateful it's been preserved.

now, as for what you're actually gonna do: hey. listen. first of all, if you haven't given up reading this stuff yet, you've gotta. you simply cannot keep internalizing stuff that makes you overanalyze your own sexuality so hard that you feel uncomfortable about being attracted to women. that's not "healthy," that's conversion therapy lite. there are other places to talk about feminism without being made to feel ashamed of yourself.

listen: there's nothing unhealthy about anything that you described about yourself. being a stone butch, being attracted to certain looks and aesthetics, watching porn, wanting to use a strap and roleplay during sex and not being interested in other sexual activities - all of those thing are completely normal and, yes, healthy. certainly healthier than feeling the need to repress your sexuality so hard that thinking about being with a woman doesn't feel right!

should we run through that list?

femininity as cage - sure, okay, femininity isn't for everyone, and there are parts of it that suck. that doesn't mean there's anything wrong with women who like to wear dresses or put on makeup or shave or whatever, or anyone who's attracted to those women. genuinely I cannot think of anything less interesting or important to feminist organizing than getting hung up about what people want to wear. it's clothes, dude. it's fucking clothes. pick a more important hill to die on, I implore you.

penetration is not the same thing as violence. there's just nothing to debate about that one; it's patently absurd to pretend that every act of penetrative sex is rape and you'd have to fundamentally misunderstand how consent works to believe that.

straps are not about "disidentification with the female body," they're about augmenting a sexual experience. a strap-on is not more problematic than a vibrator or a massage oils or a pillow used to prop up a body part. unless those are also bad? are those bad? are pillows disidentifying from the female body also? I'm not up to date on this.

straight up I don't even know which part of your whole deal the infantilization of women is supposed to address, but a thing that I've always found interesting about a lot of radical feminists who are deeply distrustful of sex is the way that many of them seem to assume that women can't be trusted to understand their own sexual desires and need to be taught what's appropriate. seems kind of condescending to me, personally.

BDSM isn't the same thing as abuse. abuse, crucially, is not a situation that people can safe word out of or negotiate the constraints of. it's kind of like how, you know, I purposefully pay people to shove needles in my skin when I want a tattoo, but I wouldn't be stoked about it if somebody just ran up to me in public and started stabbing me without any warning or conversation. context is crucial. there can certainly be abusive people within BDSM spaces, but that's true of people of literally every sexual proclivity on earth, and certainly not an innate feature of BDSM. it's just make believe, dude. it's dress up. it's sex LARPing.

also, psst, hey. that thing about being attracted to women in a "guy-like" way? no such thing. men are humans, dude; they experience attraction in as many different ways as anyone else. for every dude interested in the same stuff as you there are men yearning for hairy women, muscular women, masculine women, women who will dominate them, women who would rather be eaten out then penetrated, and so on. to say nothing of the men who aren't into women at all! and, as is obvious from your own experience, men don't have a monopoly on those kinds of feelings, anyway! there are no men or women feelings, dude; it's all just people having feelings and fighting for their lives trying to figure out what they're into to.

I want to particularly talk about that last bit, where you mentioned not enjoying or wanting to engage in cunnilingus or tribbing. that's totally fine! people like different shit in all kinds of combinations - I'm personally a huge fan of getting eaten out and scratched up or bitten, but I don't do penetration and I've genuinely never met anyone who actually liked tribbing - and there are absolutely people out there who will, to paraphrase the poet Tinashe, perfectly match your freak.

(have you heard about the perpetual, critical shortage of tops that the queer community faces? you'd be a godsend, just saying.)

also, actually, hey I wanted to circle back to another thing as well: it's deeply alarming to me that whatever radfem stuff you've been reading has you feeling "put off" of women with wide hips and large breasts as well as women with small breasts and hips. what is wrong with either of those? both of those are just ways that women naturally look. women just look a wide variety of ways, and it's sad that that's upsetting you now. just thinking about this, conceptually, is giving me hives.

having been up to your eyes in all of this, I can definitely understand why you'd feel the urge to overanalyze you own gender and sexuality to the point of completely talking yourself out of identifying with anything that feels good for you. as I said, that's actually not healthy in any way, and as a sex educator I can't say that I think anyone genuinely invested in your well-being would want that for you.

entirely aside from their feelings on trans people, which I obviously disagree with pretty vehemently, one of the things about radfems that's most endlessly vexing to me is the insistence that such an extremely narrow range of sexual behaviors are appropriate. seems like a miserable way to live, and I sincerely hope you can detangle yourself from the morass of shame it's landed you in. you deserve better.

[ashkabbom]

Temporary stresses - Mouthwashing

A/n: I disappeared but I'm back. I finished school and I'm officially on vacation 😋. I had another idea initially, but then I gave up writing to Curly with that one.🎀 Tell me if I wrote something wrong, English is not my first language and I use a translator a lot.

I wanted a story with a happy ending, although it wasn't supposed to end 100% like that 😭

Versão em português no wattpad: Livro de One Shots - Mouthwashing (Conta: ashkabbom)

•Captain Curly x Fem!Reader

Summary/Synopsis: You hate being emotionally raw and your husband has been acting strange lately.

Notes: I wrote this with a happy ending, but in situations like this stress can actually be very dangerous, so be careful if you are going to do this to someone or if you are the person to receive this one day.

You were uncomfortable, to say the least.

It had been seconds, minutes, HOURS, since he had answered you, he avoided you whenever he could! The worst part is that you don't know the reason for all this, even though you told him to tell you when something was bothering him.

He's been acting kind of strange since yesterday. It seemed like you were the only one who was out of touch with all that nervousness and discomfort.

You had been a bit paranoid for some time now, because of these attitudes you didn't know if you had done something and it was eating you alive.

Searching through all your memories and finding nothing you realize you did wrong. Maybe he just got tired?

"I did everything like I always did..." You were rambling on to yourself. Maybe you said something wrong? You know very well that words, no matter how simple they are sometimes, can hurt.

This was all giving you a huge headache and leaving you a mess of emotions. You were just too exhausted.

You were out of the house now, on your lunch break from work, messing around on your phone for a few minutes, more specifically texting your husband, hoping he would answer you like he always did.

He didn't answer you properly, the messages were short and seemed more direct than ever, your husband didn't write and talk to you like that. God, you just wanted to go home.

"You've got that look on your face again." You hear your co-worker, Linda, say and let out a sigh. "What happened now?"

"This is the fourth time we've seen you with that sad, sullen puppy face in the space of 15 minutes," her other friend, Charlotte, says..

"Do you think I'm old?" You ask suddenly.

"What happened to 'Hi friend, I missed you too'? It doesn't exist anymore?" The first woman says.

"Exactly, calm down. You're not old, you're perfect for your age. And old age comes to everyone! It's inevitable." The second friend explains with a raised eyebrow.

"But now it's so different... When we met I was different, my hair, my body... My age..."

"Girl, seriously, what happened? You haven't had these low self-esteem spikes in months, you were so happy" Charlotte says with a sad tone, sitting down next to you.

"That's the problem, I don't know what happened... Since yesterday Curly has been acting a bit strange, avoiding me and being vague at times, but at the same time he's been very short and direct." You think about what your morning had been like that day.

"Oh my, don't be like that, men are a mess all by themselves. I'm not going to put ideas in your head, but let us know if you need help with that." Linda says, running her hand over your back.

"You're still as beautiful as the day you met, so don't worry. If he's going blind and can't see it, take the trash out of your house before it starts stinking up the whole house" Charlotte says, making it clear what she originally meant.

"I just don't know if something happened and he didn't tell me, if I did something and he was uncomfortable..." You love your husband with all your heart, otherwise you wouldn't have married him.

"Girl, put your cards on the table and that man against the wall, if something is going on he will tell you, he is not a lying man" Charlotte advises you in a lighter way now.

"She's right, you have to talk to him, but really talk to him. Just starting a conversation with him won't make him tell you anything... Ask what's going on and if everything is okay." Linda hugs you affectionately. Honestly, maybe this stress is just in your head? You don't know.

"Okay okay, but I'll do it after work, there's still a few more hours until it's time to leave." Grumbling you and your friends get up, heading towards the door while talking about anything now.

You don't know what you would do without them.

Hours had passed since that conversation, it was already getting dark and you were driving home almost completely peacefully.

Being with your friends relieved you a lot, but you still had a little bit of a nagging feeling, not to mention that you also knew that life is not a strawberry and anything can happen.

You were together for 11 years, dating for 4 years and married for 7 years. There was no reason for it all to go down the drain. At least you told yourself that.

You had texted him earlier, saying you were going home now... He hadn't even seen the message, but that's okay! Sometimes he's just busy with... Anything, you think.

Parking the car, you sigh, You hated feeling as tired as you had been feeling lately, you wish you could enjoy some of your time at home instead of just passing out in bed. On the bright side, you were on vacation from your job in 2 days. Just two more days.

Today you would confront him! You would know what was going on with him lately and everything would be okay! Everything has to be okay.

You open the door to the living room and notice the loud silence, seeping through your entire house. You didn't have a good feeling about this..

"Curly? Love?" You call out as you walk through the door and into the room, feeling a little anxious.

You turn to the kitchen and then–

"SURPRISE!" Some voices say/scream at the same time, scaring you at first, but then you notice the cake on the table, balloons, birthday hats, coxinha and other things on the table.

A wave of relief washes over you.

It was your birthday today.

"Happy birthday my love, you don't know how much- Wow, hey, hey! What happened? Why are you crying?" Your husband's cheerful tone soon fades, quickly replaced by a tone of concern.

You hadn't even realized that the wave of relief had brought you to tears, you were crying.

Did something happen? Is she okay?" Anya, Curly's work friend and maid of honor at your wedding a few years ago, asks worriedly, approaching.

"Honey, is something hurting?! Do you need anything? Anything at all? Do you need to go to the hospital?" He was quick to come closer, putting his arms around you as he checked your body with his tender and concerned gaze. God, this was all you wanted.

You try to explain, through your tears, that you're okay, that everything is okay now.

"I thought-" You stop to sniff a few times "I thought you were mad at me. Acting different and distant."

"I told you you sounded thick, but it's amazing how your head doesn't work sometimes." You hear Swansea's voice and let out a laugh through your tears.

"I'm so happy that everything is okay and that you're not mad at me." You explain as you wipe away your tears, soon feeling Curly's hand on your cheek while the other rests on your waist.

"I'm sorry my love, I would never be mad or upset with you, a thousand apologies darling" He says as he peppers your face with kisses, apologizing several times. "Please, I'm so sorry"

"We told him to hide it and not tell you or give you any hints about your surprise party and such, since last time he ended up telling you... But I think asking him to disguise himself wasn't... the best idea" Daisuke says as he analyzes the situation with a disappointed face.

You laugh a little and soon they join you, then a small silence arises, but it is quickly broken.

"So?" Swansea begins

""Is everything okay in there?" Anya asks, looking at you calmly and with a little concern. "Are you feeling any pain?"

"How are you and she?" Daisuke asks in the most direct way.

You sniff one last time and look down, running your hand over your belly.

"I will never make you cry like that again." He finishes with a peck on the lips and runs his hand over your belly. "I will never worry the two girls in my life again. I promise"

You look at him fondly. "We're fine, we just went through a hurricane today and yesterday." You laugh lightly. "Now let's eat this cake, I'm hungry for two."

The others laugh at your answer and soon everyone gathers around the table to celebrate your birthday.

You really hope you never have to go through that worry again, not even Curly would do it again.

You have the most caring husband and your daughter would have the best dad.

[vifilms]

#002 CHARMER AND THE SNAKE.

❝ ABBY!ANDERSON SERIES ❞

warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: camgirl!abby, jealousy themes, dom!reader, messy reader, slight dub-con (alchohol involved by both parties), tw #strapsex, spitting, use of vibrator, fingering, cunnilingus. i promise the slow burn will pay off, and abby will be doing camgirl things next chapter. okieee hope you like this byeeee :')

....AND THEY WERE ROOMATES, she’s always been just abby to you. best friends and thick as thieves. sweet as can be, breathing shy naivety with each one she takes — a walking angel on earth. a gentle reminder of what’s good but looks can be so convincing….can’t they?

wc. 3k

Abby has to pretend it doesn’t hurt. That she feels nothing at all. Even if it’s not true, it’s what she tells herself to help her sane…whole…as mentally sound as she could be. The smell of booze, weed, and sweat fills the room. You didn’t want her to come tonight, insisted you did once you’d been caught and now Abby knows why. It feels more wounded knowing this is what you wanted tonight, why you dressed so nice tonight, splitting Abby into two. 

With an anxious mind, Abby wonders what she did to deserve this. As you cling onto the woman like a vice, your tongue getting lost in her mouth as you pull on her hair, the girl’s back arching as you do so, molding herself to your touch. The black mini skirt your paramour wore riding up so high, her ass nearly full on display but she didn’t really care, not when you were making her feel like that. More than the sharpest blade, it guts her when your head tilts back as the mysterious nips and sucks at your neck, making you moan in the process. 

Abby swallows the poison as it deteriorates her from the inside out. Swallowing her whole as she watches you with someone else. Pretending to have a facade is one thing, but actually being convinced of it is another. Whether it’s you, herself, or both? She’s not sure. 

It’s clear as day, as crystal as the reflection in her window, why you didn’t want her here. The slight argument the two of you had divulged right before you arrived here confused her in all honesty. Truthfully, she wasn’t supposed to see you and your companion tucked in a small corner in the basement. Your body framed against the wall as the woman grinds against you, using your thigh to get off. 

You. 

Discomfort fills her immensely, watching you with someone else. Even if she should feel happy for you, you’re her best friend, she can’t. She won’t. The jealousy courses through her veins, especially when you moan into the mysterious woman’s mouth as the succubus sinks into your neck. Tilting your head back with your eyes shut, you let the stranger grope your ass through the fabric of your trousers. 

Abby doesn’t know what’s worse. You’re not noticing her presence or the fact she’s being subjected to watch. Tragically distracted, Abby doesn’t notice the men circling around her. Until they are in her face trying to get the blonde’s attention. It makes her feel uneasy. 

Undeniably, the men flirt with her as if they are owed pieces of her, scrambling for an inch of the shy girl, the one no one seems to want. She knows the interest only takes place under her guise of experience, more so lack thereof. 

With their overzealous palms, sinful hands paw at her as if these men are owed pieces of her, tugging on her blonde braid, touching her arm — anyone could see how uncomfortable she’s become. Abby isn’t one to pay attention to, not at all really, it’s not until she says no again does it catch your attention. Unintentionally, she’s loud about it, without even meaning to be. Now, you feel completely sober. Even if your lips and neck are slightly stained with lipstick from the woman who was dry humping you until kingdom come, you could hear Abby’s cries in a sea of a thousand cries. 

With a heavy foot, she charges at them, shoving the man pack slightly. 

“She said fucking no.” You practically bite at the group. 

“We’re just messing around. Tell your little watchdog they can back down.” 

You take a step forward to knock the little bitch off his feet, but Abby catches your wrist before your fist could fully swing.  

“It’s not worth it. Can we just go?” Reluctantly, you nod but before the threat leaves your lips. “Touch her again and you’ll fucking regret it.” 

Sliding your hand into hers, you shoulder check the two men, making them split while you have Abby in tow. Abby turns to see the death glare of the century being passed her way, the girl you had just been exchanging tonsils with not believing you had left for well — Abby. 

Now with her face visible, you can see her clear as day, Francesca. More difficult than before, Abby finds it even more difficult to not let her heart swarm with envy especially when it comes to someone she can’t stand at all. Francesca is everything she’s not. The brunette oozes the confidence, the blueprint of extraordinary femininity. When she walks into a room, everyone turns to look at her. Unlike how Abby standardly feels, entirely visible from her. Easily, the blonde blends in every room she steps foot in, her thick sweaters and pants with her plain sneakers don’t leave much to remember. 

Then, there is Francesca. 

Everyone knows from the moment she steps in, she’s the hottest woman there. With her short skirts exhibiting her undeniable ass, her perky tits she always loves to put on display, and then there’s that goddamn smile. As if it was created by the finest god themselves, she can lure anyone into her venus trap and she damn near has. In the final year of uni, Francesca has been hellbent on you. Dropping and closing out the bar that you work at, Abby has even seen it herself a few times. 

It was easy to spot. Abby had even seen Francesca undo multiple buttons when she noticed you were here, you take it with grace, always politely declining saying you aren’t interested. Was this just all for show? Did you not want her to know your true intentions so you keep buried and concealed from her prying eyes? Clearly, you were interested in the perfectly put together princess. Abby really couldn’t even blame you, Francesca was the one of the most beautiful women she’s ever seen and Francesca didn’t give up until she had what she wanted. 

An insatiable need you seemed willing to fill tonight, the stars aligned for the siren, getting off on your thighs before you were so rudely interrupted, in her hazel eyes anyways. Abby didn’t really understand why you stopped what you were doing, she could handle herself with ease. The last thing she needed was an upset Francesca with a new target for her unhinged rage. 

As you pull her outside, the abandoned patio and the steady fire raging in the autumn air, instantly she checks if you’re alright. Deeply, Abby hates how she can smell Francesca. It’s not your scent comforting her it’s the woman you would have fucked in the nearest bathroom if she hadn’t been so loud, interrupting you in the process. Would you have bent her over the counter, stuffing her fingers full of you? Or maybe you would have sunk to your knees with your mouth latched onto her clit as you praised the succubus at the altar of your sins. 

Even if she knows she shouldn’t, Abby pokes at the bear. 

“I’m fine. You can go back to Francesca, I’m fine.” Abby bites, trying to conceal the sharpness in her tone, but she does nothing but expose it. 

“I might’ve believed you if you hadn’t said it twice.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t want to be with her. I’m surprised your tongue didn’t get sucked into her mouth permanently.” 

It’s dangerous for Abby to say these things. To let her anger show in front of you so clearly like this. If she wants to preserve the relationship you have with each other, she really should do a better job at disguising how she feels. The jealousy is bleeding green, her blood dripping all over you, staining you until you have to scrub out every last drop. Hearing you moan her name possessed her with a claim she shouldn’t have over you but now she can’t stop herself from branding you as hers. 

— 

Even you had to admit, things had gotten out of hand. You’d been so hellbent on getting Abby out of your mind, needing a break from her constant, figurative teasing, the repetitive dreams she kept having of your best friend. You need to get her out of your system but it was just your luck she had seen you with someone else. The stupidly cute pout, lips turned downwards perfectly as she fails to hide how she truly feels. 

”It’s fine. I’m just going to take an uber and go home. I’m sorry for ruining your night.” Abby gets up but you follow her, not wanting her to be alone when she’s this upset. 

“You didn’t ruin anything.” You try to convince her but she’s not really listening, her mind is far gone — away from you.

“I think I just wanna be alone. It’s been a long week anyways, probably wasn’t a great idea to come out, you know?” You nod at her words, watching as she leaves. You should have gone after her but you don’t. Ever since you saw her in a way you shouldn’t, everything between the two of you has been rocky. A dynamic shift you weren’t quite prepared for. You think about leaving, the rest of the night will just be a bust, you grab another drink. Trying to drown your senses in shitty alcohol, just enough for you to not hate yourself for making her feel like shit. 

Thankfully you’re walking out of the house party but Francesca finds you before you can. It’s her home, her space, and it would be so fucking easy. There’s no denying, clearly, you’d been all over. It wasn’t just tonight either. “C’mon, you can’t leave now! The party’s just starting.” 

“I’m pretty beat, might just call it a night.” 

“How about one more drink? Can’t leave without having a drink with the host.” Meticulously, she places a hand on your sternum before pulling you towards her by the waistband of your trousers. Maybe she can help you forget about all of it and you’re too weak to say no. 

You should leave. You really should. 

“Alright, one more couldn’t hurt.” 

Three tequila shots in, for the two of you, is all it takes. Francesca‘s kind enough to lend you a harness and dildo so you can fuck her pretty face into the mattress. You slap her ass as you deliver a particularly hard thrust of your cock, watching her pretty cunt swallow you whole. It’s sloppy, wet, and fuck is she the perfect little slut for you. Deliciously, she meets your thrusts as she fucks her ass back onto your baby blue cock. The harness creates just enough friction each time she back up on you, rubbing against your clit as she does. 

“God, I didn’t think you’d be this good.” Francesca can’t help but look back at you and she’s glad she does. It’s just in time to see you spit on her pucker hole, teasing her lightly with your thumb. Grabbing a hold of her hips, making sure your grip is firm as you pull her back over and over, making the pretty brunette take every single inch of you. 

“What was that? I don’t think I heard you.” Francesca slumps, her moans could be heard throughout the house, you’re sure and fuck is your ego incredibly stroked as you make the girl everyone wants to fuck see stars. “You know what you’ve been doing, chasing me down, not letting me leave. Stupid brat. Couldn’t leave without feeling me inside you, huh?” 

“Yes, yes!” Francesca screams, wanting every in the house to know you’re the one fucking her. She’s lost in the moans you’re giving her, she feels so close, so fucking close to cuming all over your cock. No one has ever fucked her to bliss so quickly, she can practically taste the orgasm on the tip of her tongue. Francesca needs it more than the air she breathes. 

But you slip out of her, maneuvering her body so she’s on her back, you suck on her tits, marking them up as she arches into you. Francesca bucks her hips into as she grips onto your hair and pulls. “What’d you stop?” 

You don’t answer her. Not verbally. 

Grabbing her legs, you lift lightly and push forward, “Grab them.” Her knees land near her head as Francesca is fully exposed for you. 

Maybe this is what you need to get Abby out of your mind. Just one fucking night of rough fucking to get you off her mind. So, it’s what you do. Sinfully, you spit on her dripping cunt, enjoying the way her body shivers. With your fingers, you let them slip into her folds, she’s so wet, you slip right in. Her cunt takes your fingers with ease, she whimpers the moment you’re penetrating her with skilled fingers. Carefully using your thumb, you circle her clit, Francesca squirming for more. More fingers, more of your cock — she’s not sure which she needs but she’s craving to come undone around you. 

“Such a pretty cunt you have, huh?” In your drunken haze, the lines begin to blur, and all you are golden waves and bright eyed blues staring right back at you. You imagine these are her tits, your ass, and her pussy. All of it belongs to her, it isn’t Francesca, it’s Abby. Doubling down on your pace, you fuck her like your life depends on it. Francesca is just as inebriated as you, not caring about anything but you bringing her body to the edge she so desperately craves. It’s criminal how much she needs to cum in your mouth, on your face, and wants you to swallow every last drop. 

But you have something different in mind. 

Your fingers slip out of her before they are replaced with your cock, spreading her legs so she’s folded in half, her legs in the air as you split her pussy, coaxing it to bend to your will. Her furrowed eyebrows and pout reminds you of Abby, how she takes it in your dreams with no questions asked. It’s what you crave but you’ll settle for another pretty girl, even if it’s not the one you want. You’d ruin Abby, destroy her precious heart into a million pieces without even trying to. 

The girl beneath you? You’re more than willing to break her down into nothing. Truth be told, you could care less if she likes you or not, you just need to fuck your need for Abby out of your system. If you’re getting your fill elsewhere, you’ll be able to control yourself. Right? 

With a firm grip on the headboard, you plow into her like she’s the farmer’s daughter, her grip barely able to hold her legs together as Francessa's head slumps into an awkward angle. The sound of the headboard hitting her wall makes her cunt gush with need, she feels it dripping off her ass, her slick being fucked out of and into her at the same time. 

“I-I need to c-cum. Please.” 

“Do you think you’ve earned it?” You slap her clit, enjoying the way her entire body shakes. 

“I’ve been good, so good for you. Don’t you hear how good I’ve been.” The weeping cries from her pussy are even louder. You know she’s close. It won’t be long before she comes around your cock. 

“Yeah, you have been good, huh? Then be a good girl and cum around my cock.” 

Francesca needs nothing else. Swiftly, her arms circle around your neck, bringing your lips to hers as she cums, shoving her tongue down your throat she moans into your mouth as you fuck her through her euphoric high. You think that’ll be the end of it, you slip out of her as you take the harness off but she pushes you to lay back on the bed. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Making you cum, obviously.” 

“You really don’t have to I’m—” She slurps at your cunt like it’s her last meal, shutting you up in the process. “You were saying?” 

Your silence is answer enough as you thread your fingers through her hair, shoving her face in your cunt as she sucks your bundle of nerves into her swollen lips. Giving the wanted pearl all the affection in the world, starting off the small kitten licks and sucks until she’s tasting your divine slick, letting it coat her tongue entirely.

Francesca halts for a moment, grabbing the vibrator on the dresser, before holding it to your clit. Her gleeful smile is wicked as she watches you, whimpers slipping off your tongue as she lets you ride her fingers. “Yeah, I’m not just a pretty face, baby.” 

The setting starts off slow, tedious, but then the kinky brunette amps up the speed. 

“Do you want another finger, baby?” 

“Yes.” You cry out, she slips another inside you, deliciously pressing on the spot deep within you. Once she’s found it, she continues to press on it over, and over, and over. 

“So confident all the time but you’re really just a moaning bitch who likes to be fucked?” 

“Watch it.” You demand. 

“Or what?” 

With a wild smirk, her eyes blissed out as she watched the goddess beneath her buck her hips, she maxed out of the speed on the vibrator until it’s buzzing on your clit. It’s the final nail in the coffin to send you into overdrive. You have no control over your entire body as it you seize and moan, unable to stop yourself from the not so subtle cry. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck……Abbyyyyyy.” 

Francesca doesn’t freeze, doesn’t even push away from you like you half expect her to. No, she doesn’t do any of it. All she does is fuck you through your high, allowing you the same kind of pleasure you granted her. Your eyes shut the entire time as you imagine your best friend, the one person you can’t have, bringing you to completion. Eventually, Francesca lets off, walking to her closet to slip shirt on before she straddles your waist as if moaning another woman’s name means nothing. 

“Sorry, I don’t know I—” You began to reason, trying to come up with some type of excuse as to why her name name slipped out of you and instead of the women who was just fucking you. 

“It’s innocence of her, isn’t it? The blue doe-eyes looking up at you as if you created the world just for her to exist in it.” She plays with your tits as she talks to you, fuck, why is this so hot? “She follows you around like a lost puppy, begging to be saved.” 

“Don’t talk about her.” Harshly, you bite back. The protective instinct you have for Abby is a necessary reflex, you don’t like anyone speaking about her, regardless of how much you want to fuck Francesca again. “You don’t know anything about her.” 

Neither did you really. She wasn’t innocent she clearly loves to fuck, while others watched and you’re the one who can’t handle it. Francesca won’t know the truth about it. No one will, not even the woman who’s been occupying all your time, even if you’ve been avoiding her, trying to worm your way out of being close to her — Abby remains on your mind. 

Constantly. 

“I know girls like her, that’s enough. She wouldn’t be able to handle you even if she gave it her best shot.” You push her off of you as you begin to dress yourself, but right before you excuse yourself out to give a curt goodbye. Francesca, like the minx she is, spread her legs wide, a perfect angle of her pussy for you to devour. “I’ll see you the next time you need to forget about her.” 

With a clear eye roll from her, you slam the door on your way out, trying to forget this ever fucking happened.

—

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[mj-dev]

Long Post

I recently completed all the books in A Court of Thorns and Roses series and the first one in Crescent City. Both works are praised for their strong female leads and feminist characters which is the sole reason I decided to give them a try. And now, I have opinions.

Though the female characters show promise on the surface, it’s not the case when we look closely. Most of this analysis is based on the former series as it has the most varied range of female leads.

Feyre

In the beginning, Feyre heavily radiates masculine energy from her choice of hunting as occupation to the tired breadwinner mentality. She lacks empathy for her sisters and expresses her disdain clearly in her attitude and inner monologues when it’s clear they do the household chores, which translates to her disregard for the feminine work. She falls under the ‘not your typical girl’ archetype with her preference of pants over dresses and apathy towards her appearance. She makes an exception when she intends to please Tamlin. In the first book, it’s a one-time occurrence but over the course of the series, this becomes more prominent once Rhysand enters her life.

A woman, who refuses to be controlled, willingly plays Rhysand’s whore wearing the same dress he forced her into Under the Mountain when he sexually assaulted her. In Spring, Feyre expresses her fear of getting dolled up and reduced to a broodmare. While in Court of Nightmares, she takes pleasure in flaunting her body and putting on a sex act in front of an entire court. This transition apparently marks her taking back her power. She describes in great detail in her inner thoughts how she enjoyed kneeling to Rhysand as part of the act and the power he held over her and the room. This is the same woman who refused to bow to any fae in the first book. She feels empowered being reduced to a sex object for Rhysand and enjoys the discomfort it causes to the court, which she radiates as she walks down from the throne. Moreover when Keir disrespects her for it, she is offended by the insult but not for being put in the position. This becomes a role she actively and pleasurably plays in their court for the rest of the series.

None of her femininity translates to her emotional state. Except for the one scene in the mountain cabin where she heats a soup for Rhysand, she’s not portrayed indulging in womanly activities or mannerisms. Moreover, Feyre only embraces this side when she pleases a man. Tamlin, Rhysand, Tarquin. Despite her overtly masculine traits, she is equated to a goddess in Cassian’s monologue the moment she’s pregnant and paraded like a ‘breeding mare’ in Court of Nightmares.

Feyre’s story heavily pushes the idea that being feminine is only acceptable when it satisfies a man and his desires. Over and over again, a woman who doesn’t appreciate this way of living only ever embodies it to please her partners.

Nesta

Nesta is raised and groomed to be a housewife but she sheds that part of her life to become a warrior. This isn’t a choice of hers but thrusted upon her by the ones, mostly men, in her life as this is seen as the most contributing or ‘healthy’ way of living. Where healing through softness and compassion is an option and most needed given Nesta’s trauma and history, she’s subjected to more and more violence.

Nesta begins as someone bound to be a lady using her wits and charms as her weapons. But as the story progresses, she becomes a sword swinging warrior who becomes a close enough reflection of Feyre. A woman who won’t wear anything but dresses as it’s not lady-like becomes someone who only wears pants and slays demons for a man. A woman who wants to travel and read and enjoy simple life with her girl friends finds purpose becoming a weapon.

A woman who’s taught to treasure her body and never has sex for the same reason until she’s into her mid-twenties turns to it when she’s hurting and becomes sexually hyperactive to the point it’s considered an embarrassment. What’s interesting here is she’s forgiven for this when her sexual energy is focused towards the man(Cassian) everyone approves of.

Nesta enjoys reading romances, a classic hobby associated with women, which is either dismissed or joked about by Cassian. But the moment she trains to fight, he starts appreciating her. The same is seen during Eris’s seduction. Nesta’s dancing skills are known even before that and Cassian doesn’t acknowledge it until he sees her dancing with another man. Everything Nesta does or indulges in are somehow appreciated when they align with Cassian’s interests or what he desires in a woman.

Elain

The one character who is highly feminised in the series is Elain. She loves gardening, small talks and connecting with people, and surrounds herself with beauty. She learns to cook and enjoys feeding/nurturing her family. She’s often described as ‘kind’ and ‘delicate’. Even in Feyre’s thoughts, her body is sensualised and described in ways that imply sexual allure while her emotional traits are equated to child-like innocence. She’s the epitome of femininity and she’s the damsel that needs to be saved and protected by everyone at the end of the day. Sure, this could change in her book but the bottom line is her womanliness is very much in parallel with the misogynistic standards of what and how an ideal woman should be.

Morrigan

Morrigan is very in touch with her feminine side as her interests are wearing red dresses and painting her lips red and having sex (please hear my sarcasm). Her expression of liberation is lording her promiscuity over her parents and wearing provocative dresses in her court. In order to hide her true sexuality, she uses men to the point of using one of her close friends as personal flirting companion and leading the other on who’s been pining over her for five centuries. She’s the classic ideation of femme fatale with a heart of gold, yet has a childish, bubbly personality.

Amren

Throughout the series, Amren is more masculine than the male characters in some ways from her talks to behaviour. She’s an ancient creature trapped in a fae body. She’s so disgusted by it that she can’t grasp the need for eating specific food or relieving oneself. But what she truly understands and embraces in this body is her sexual urges. It is ultimately the one thing that helps her to bond with another person in her long life. Even if sex is considered as a universal act among all creatures or whatever, she should feel the same about eating and shitting which she doesn’t.

Bryce

Though she fares better than the A Court of Thorns and Roses (except SF) women, Bryce still falls victim to this pattern. She’s introduced as someone who parties and has sex without regrets which is sign of her independence. It forms most of her personality that everyone perceives her as such. This soon changes but the idea often lingers. She’s always found in her underwear (which could be considered a character quirk but I highly doubt that was SJM’s intentions) and all the male characters tend to love her or be attracted to her body at first sight. Over and over again, her sex appeal is brought to reader’s attention and one of the ways Bryce claims her feminine nature is being very confident with her sexual prowess.

There are several common themes and patterns in these books that heavily contradict the foundation of feminism.

Equality

Feminism, in simple terms, is equality of genders. In this series, it’s anything but that. Again and again, the words are mentioned but there’s simply not enough proof of it.

The Archeron sisters have no true autonomy. Feyre shares three different connections with Rhysand the majority of the time which gives him control over her thoughts and emotions to some extent. In Nesta’s can, Cassian transforms her into his ideal partner when she’s at the lowest in the name of healing. He often sees her as an animal to be tamed, and so far, he’s succeeded. In the end, Nesta becomes someone who questions her choices until Cassian or IC affirm it. Moreover, she has no financial independence or agency to choose how to live. And Elain is playing courteous guest in Rhysand’s house as she has no home or life of her own.

In Spring, Feyre who explicitly expresses her desires to be an equal to Tamlin complains when the opportunity is given to her to shoulder the responsibilities—socialising with the people serving her, dressing to be part of her court, and sitting through a tax collecting ceremony. While in Night, she becomes Rhysand’s soldier and goes on missions where she kills and maims in the most brutal ways possible. Though she is a ruler, her training and life is always focused on the arts of warring rather than administration which was requested of her in Spring. And once the wars are over, she complains about answering letters which are again tasks expected of a ruler. This shows what Feyre truly sees as equality is the chance to be violent.

Strength

The female leads are considered equal to their male counterparts only when they are progressively aggressive. Except for some side characters, almost all women prove their strength through their fighting abilities—Feyre, Nesta, Bryce, Morrigan, Amren. Elain, who has been a bystander until now, had her moment of courage when she embraced violence and initiated Hybern’s killing. This has brought many speculations about her future adventures mostly involving training like her sisters and becoming a spy, thereby proving the point.

Also, Feyre is only considered an equal to Rhysand after she inherits the powers of other High Lords. The same is seen in Nesta’s relationship with Cassian when everyone accepts her as his equal after she becomes a warrior. All this implies the strength of the men is the standard to which these women have to aspire to be, while none of the men are expected to change or challenge themselves to reach the level of their partners.

Appearance

They all possess extraordinary beauty that every male character is charmed with at the first sight and they either directly pursue these women or it’s implied. And at some point, their partners relish or wield this desirability against the said men—Rhysand against Tarquin, Cassian against Eris. This is prominent in Silver Flames as we get only some of Rhysand’s inner thoughts through Feyre. Cassian objectifies Nesta even when she’s emaciated, when she’s not fit—physically or mentally, after she’s sexually assaulted and almost dies. The value of these women are reduced to how appealing they are to the male gaze.

Sexuality

Most of these characters come with a sheltered view of world about how a woman should be or behave. When they finally step out of that bubble and embrace themselves and their new world view, they also become sexually proactive.

Every female character at least at one point describes being seen as a prey by their male partners. This can be attributed to the fae’s primal nature although it is a recurring theme in every relationship. Especially for Feyre, where she describes Rhysand’s gaze as predatory. She revels in this objectification to the point she derives pleasure by entertaining and putting on a show for him.

All these women exhibit hyperactive sex drive and have multiple partners with no emotional attachment which is seen as a sign of their empowerment. They always use sex as a means to ease their emotional trauma and they all have endured one variation of abuse at the hands of a man, mostly sexual, which they eventually explore and overcome by being sexually active—Feyre with Rhysand, Nesta with Cassian, Morrigan with her multiple partners. Elain’s attraction towards Azriel could very well fall under this category with her struggle to accept her fae life and mating bond with Lucien (and SJM loves trauma dumping).

There’s nothing wrong with owning one’s sexuality and putting one’s pleasure first but seeing it as the only path to empowerment is absurd, which is common theme in all theses women’s growth.

Life outside their romantic relationships

The female characters either come with a set of girl friends who are her ‘ride or die’ as in case of Bryce, or bond without much depth like in case of Feyre, Morrigan and Amren. The Valkriyes are the only exception to this where the women organically grow and build genuine friendships. Given the 4.5 books are dedicated to the Archeron sisters, there is no bonding among the three except for the blame shifting and one minute heartfelt conversation where their life-long trauma is erased and forgotten.

These women have hobbies which only exist to offer that touch of femininity to them—painting, gardening, reading smut, dancing, dressing themselves in pretty clothes (while male characters have no hobbies except for Tamlin and Lucien, and in case of Crescent City, all the men are into the same sport). Their ‘softer’ traits only rear its head when the narrative calls for proof of their kindness or empathy and mostly reserved for their partners but not in the way of living or their character itself.

Here’s the bottom line. Feminism in these books is masculinity masquerading as female empowerment. Throughout the series, what makes these women powerful is their ability to match the men in their lives. They are equal because of the brute force they embody on par with them which is basically the masculine ideal of strength. The faux feminism propaganda is blatantly obvious with the woman’s value constantly reduced to how much she is desired by men and her hyperactive sex life. These books are nothing but a mockery of feminism.

[eatmangoesnekkid]

Ladies, if you are being penetrated by him, he must know himself as a God. Even if your lover (no matter the gender) does not say those words or refer to themselves as such, you will be able to sense it in their daily actions. When I speak about masculine energy, that God energy, I'm not speaking about the performance like how a person's postures themselves or their overall banter. When I speak about masculine energy, I am speaking about tactile external structures like what are your lover's main focuses in life? How does your lover treat their body? Is your lover on social media all the time? What is their attention focused on? How does your lover manage resources including their money and "free time" like are they only playing video games, watching TV or sitting around in other ways when not working? I think of someone like Nipsey Hussle, who practiced semen retention, an archetype of human power who didn’t just carry masculine bravado, but organized and directed energy into a practice that procured success, those masters of our time who lived in more elevated ways. Other masculine archetypes I connect to are David Goggins, Joe Dispenza, Bruce Lee, Sun Ra, and many female and male athletes like Angel Reese and Deion Sanders. Too many woman have dead men/masculine energy hanging around their root, which means that they have very weak masculine energy entering their bodies and lives. Weak masculine energy makes you broke and tired because it makes no space for your actual feminine energy to shine and thrive. Weak masculine energy negatively affects your physical structure and taxes you financially and emotionally, like the lack of confidence or willpower you will have to move through discomfort or hard times. You must find ways to exalt the masculine energy within you if you want to excel in the this 3D energy. It is masculine energy that helps you to not only say the thing, but the become the thing. It is this energy that makes you completely comfortable with being the villian in another person’s story and not need to please everyone. This was one of my biggest coming-into-maturity lessons of all time. Goddess energy is lovely, the subtle and internal are deeply essential, but they are only truthful when God energy has been integrated. How can you raise the God in you? This is one major reason that I have been weightlifting nearly every week over the last 20 years. Even when I travel, I also grace the local gym as part of my traveling adventure. It’s the God in me that allowed me to confidently workout at Lee Haney’s gym on Ponce de Leon in Atlanta back in the day in the part of the weightlifting area where mostly big burly muscular men went as they stared at my ass while I squatted. It was a little icky and annoying at times but it was that God in me that mandated me to not tiptoe around or shrink like a little girl and only leave this area of the gym when I was done with what I came to do. Getting stronger not only helped my mental health and made me more confident, it is helped to dissolve a lot of the recurring low-grade depressive energy that was often part of my life. Strengthening my belly, my solar plexus, my sense of self, has been my discipline, one way I exalt the God, H.I.M., the masculine, within me. I never consciously realized that I tend to go into a gym feeling like a God until this morning--like "I can do this; I'm ready,” especially mustering this energy up on days when I don't really want to go, when going to the gym feels hard. Ultimately you can only attract God when you know yourself as a God, not intellectually because you read the Bible (many people who only read the Bible all the time stay broke and broken), but the God living in your own body and treat yourself accordingly. You can’t receive what you haven’t given to yourself. It's simple math. 1+1=2. -India Ame'ye, Author

[foggyfrogss]

⋆ HIEMAL ₊˚.

tf! Sukuna x f! Reader | Warnings: MDNI, Sexual Content

Chapter One - Next Chapter - Masterlist | ᴡᴏʀᴅs: 7.3ᴋ - Discord 18+

A/N: Considering we don't know much in regards to Sukuna's past... I hope I do my best in portraying that in my story. In the beginning he is human but I will tell the story of how he turns into what he is now.

ʏᴇᴀʀ: 940 | ᴀɢᴇ: 24

“I thought I told you to stop being careless when training,” you huff out in a quiet tone in rhythm with the crackling fire inside the Irori. Your words earn a huff of annoyance from the man who sat in front of you.

The overall atmosphere was thick with rising silent tension as you wiped away the blood from Ryomen Sukuna’s shoulder. His tight skin flexes under your touch.

“What would your father do if he found you tending to the wounds of someone like me?”

You’re stunned by the gruffness of his voice. The sudden exposure of emotion being rare, especially from him. You sigh.

You had stopped your movements with the cloth. Moving it away from his shoulder to dip it back into the bucket of warmed water. His wound had stopped bleeding now.

“My father has no say in what I choose to do. I’m a grown woman, Ryomen.” You tell him but it earns a grunt from his lips. Why did he always have to be such a brute? At times the stoic, tough-guy act had irked you to no ends, like now. “You are a Nobleman’s daughter. To be seen with someone as me,” he begins, suddenly turning to face you, “it would be considered immoral.”

The room had grown quiet once more, only the sounds of crackling twigs filling your ears as the two of you locked eyes. His intense gaze showing through to you even in the dimness of the room. It almost made you shudder as light chills prickled down your spine and through your arms.

Your fingers clenched around the drenched cloth to expel the tainted water from it, bringing you back to your senses.

“You know I don’t see you in that way…” you whispered softly to him. The words that came from your lips do no favor in relieving the suffocating tension that had begun to swell.

As you raise the cloth to continue tending to his wound, he snatches your wrist in his hand. The substantial size of it completely engulfing it. His long fingers squeeze but not enough to cause discomfort. It’s a comforting pinch, combined with the warmth of his fiery skin; it makes your body buzz.

“Define ‘that way’,” he demands with a squeeze of your wrist. All you do is swallow nervously at the sight before you. His sharp gaze darkening even further as he awaits your reply. You take in a deep breath, cursing at yourself internally for how shaken it had sounded. Waves of fluttering anxiety burst through you and pool in the base of your gut, feeling as if a kaleidoscope of butterflies had been released within you.

Angry, hungry, and eager butterflies.

Your legs had pressed together firmly, relieving yourself of the blooming heat that grew further below.

“A curse,” you begin, feeling his grip tighten even further as your smaller voice sounded, “an outcast. They’re scared of you.” The last sentence comes out in barely a whisper.

He releases your wrist from his hold.

A sudden gust of cold air that surrounds you as his abrupt stand almost puts you into shock. The heat from the irori nonexistent as you finally release a shudder. It was almost as if the air from the winter storm had made its way inside.

“Let me stitch it before you leave,” you quickly let out, noticing how painful it looked. “It’ll heal fine. It’s not that deep,” is all you hear him grunt out. His back is facing you again. The light from the fire illuminating the broadness of it. His fair skin glowing in a tasteful way as he gathers his kimono that pools at his waist where it’s tied. He hadn’t fully removed it, not intending to stay long in the first place.

You watch in awe, entranced by the way his back muscles flex under his skin. Once again you swallow nervously, but for a whole other reason. The heat in your body signaling you why.

“Let me help you,” you insist as you finally stand with him. His right shoulder, the one he’d injured, proved weaker as he slowly pulls up the kimono sleeve. Your much smaller hands meet his to take it from them, pulling the thick fabric over his shoulder neatly. He replies with a grunt as he accepts your help.

With no issue he slides on the other sleeve.

As he fixes how it sits on his body, your eyes scan the room for his haori. The black clump of fabric by the door probably it. You didn’t own any fabrics dark in color. Your mother and father kept you dressed in bright ones; noticeable colors.

You take the fairly weighty haori into your hands and pull it off the floor. It’s softness bringing a comfort to your exposed skin as you walk it towards Sukuna. He’d turned his gaze towards you, capturing your eyes with his own as he takes the article of clothing from your hands.

You assume the rest as you begin to help him guide his arm into the sleeves. With light movements you do the same as you did with his kimono.

“If it’s giving you anymore trouble-“ you begin but quickly you’re cut off by his deep voice, “I won’t. You have done enough.”

You’re left speechless as he ties the haori together.

The average person would have been hurt and confused by his blunt usage of words, but you weren’t a fool. You’d known him since your early childhood, where you were fortunate enough to see a man such as him smile freely with fervor. It’d been years since you’d seen his lips do anything but the scowl that rested there indefinitely.

Though at times, you did find your chest twisting uncomfortably at his words. Especially in moments like this where you wished nothing more than for him to stay here with you in the comforting warm silence.

You also didn’t want him to walk back to his home alone in the snow storm. He lived across the village from you. Located in the less fortunate side. It was at most a fifteen minute walk.

“You want to say something else.” He states rather than asks you. He’s turned his gaze away from you now, walking towards the door. His shoes were at the main entrance of the estate, where you’d walk him to so he wouldn’t get lost in such a grand house. “Perhaps…” you trail off nervously, holding your arms over your stomach as if you were hugging yourself. In the long length of your sleeve, you bunch up the fabric in your fists, doing what you can to calm your buzzing nerves.

Why were you so nervous?

“Perhaps, you could stay here tonight?” You ask him innocently, causing him to freeze his movements. His towering height causes you to bend your neck to look up towards him. The back of his head in your view as you wait for his answer.

Why had you even asked such an ignorant question? You were sure he’d decline-

Your thoughts are silenced by the deep sigh you heard come from him. A noise that proved rather rare from him. Ryomen Sukuna was not one to express his emotions. In any way.

He then turns, “I had not taken the snow into consideration. It would be quite troubling to return home this late with it coming down.”

It’s when you smile, his eyes widen in shock at the sudden expression from you. You knew you wouldn’t be getting a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ from the man. He was a mystery to all but you’d like to think you knew him best… at times.

“The only concern I have with staying the night is being found by anyone of the estate. What do you think they’d think?” He asks you with concern and you sigh, uncrossing your arms from your body to cross them over your chest. “You can just stay in my room-“ he cuts you off almost instantly. “You are not an idiot but your words are starting to prove otherwise,” he says and you chuckle. “If you would let me finish… you can stay in my room. The servants and my parents never disturb me unless something of important is happening that morning. In the midst of a snow storm, I think I can sneak you out early tomorrow with no trouble.”

Your words seem to calm the sudden tension surrounding Sukuna, but the scowl he holds still remains. “So be it.” He mumbles. You give him a warm smile as you walk to the Irori to smother the flames a bit. You wondered if you should just hunker down in this room rather than your own… the only sources of heat being here and the same on your father’s side of the house.

The servants frequented this area, sadly. It was futile and you sighed in defeat as you stood straight.

You usually hadn’t been bothered much by the winter temperatures as your bedding served you quite warmly… you just worried about your guest.

“Follow me,” you whisper as you slide the door open to leave. Immediately, the colder air of the house hits your exposed skin eliciting a shiver from you. You were sure the nervousness of having a guest was not helping your case.

After closing the door behind himself, Sukuna follows you down the dark hallway of your home. The creaking of the wooden floors sounding due to the sheer weight of his body. Each groan off the floor caused an inner grimace, leaving you more nervous as you slowly approached your room.

You only hoped it wouldn’t wake anyone up. It was usually always quiet, especially this time of night.

“Here we are,” you whisper just loud enough for his ears to register. He follows behind you swiftly as you enter the room. The scuffling sound of the sliding door closing makes you hold your breath. As soon as it shuts, you release it, breathing out in a huff.

In a quick movement, you’re in the corner of your room, finding the supplies to light the lantern. It didn’t provide much light, but once lit; you are able to find Ryomen Sukuna standing at the other side of your room. Its warm lighting manages to fill only that corner of the room in which you stood.

The dark corner holds the presence of Ryomen Sukuna. Orange light reflects from his glassy eyes as he stares back at you.

“I have a spare futon in the cabinet. Let me fetch it,” you mumble, hoping the thin walls at least muffle that level of sound. Sukuna doesn’t respond.

His presence in your bedroom is nerve wracking. You’d never had a man in such a intimate place before and if you were to be caught…

You shake the thoughts from your mind as you grasp at the soft futon roll stashed away. Once you pull it free; you lay it flat on the floor beside your own. A servant must have made yours hours ago.

Yet, when you realize how close he would be sleeping next to you; your eyes scan the room for any other possible arrangement.

The size of the room wouldn’t allow it. With the size he was, laying next to you would prove more comfortable.

Once laid flat, you drop to your knees to further fix the fluff of it. You’d let him borrow one of your blankets since you did not have an extra; at least in this room. You would rather freeze to death than risk being caught by anyone at this hour.

“You can use one of my blankets,” you tell him and he releases a grunt. “I’ll do no such thing.” He says with finality. Who were you to object against him when he spoke as sternly as he did. Though guiltily, you nod.

With a flicker, you notice the lantern’s light cascading into a lighter glow. The oil must have been low. You hadn’t checked it in a while and you weren’t sure when you actually did check it last. That meant you wouldn’t have to exit your futon to put it out; perfect, you thought.

As Sukuna lowered to sit himself on the plush futon, you turn towards your folding screen. It laid folded up against the wall, but you’d need to unfold it so you could change without Sukuna seeing. The thought of him accidentally catching a glimpse of you nude has your face fuming, but you quickly shake it off. You grasp at the bamboo screen; paper ruffling as you slowly unfold it. “I need to change out of this kimono. It’s rather uncomfortable to sleep in,” you explain quickly before walking behind it.

In a few quick motions, you shed yourself of your layers. You immediately felt the iciness of winter graze against your bare skin. Your teeth clench as you keep yourself from chattering them.

You had set the screen up with your cabinet behind it. It held your extra clothing, such as your white yukata, which you reached for. With haste, you put it on to keep any warmth you had left inside of you. It’s soft material already doing wonders as if traps your body heat it. The cold makes your fingers hard to move as you tie the yukata together.

You’d kept the thick socks you had on before.

When you stepped out from the cover of the folding screen, you catch Sukuna’s eyes. His dark iris’ stealing a glance before they quickly rip away. It sends a wave of heat through you, which you’re grateful for.

“Does the light bother you?” You ask him as you kneel down to your futon. Your icy fingers peel back the blankets so you can slide in with ease.

Sukuna shakes his head, “I’ve slept in much worse conditions.”

After tucking yourself into the depths of your futon and pulling the blankets over your body; you’re left with your thoughts. The silence of the room radiating around the two of you as you wonder what to do next. Should you bid him goodnight?

The sudden sound of wind slamming against the thin outer wall of the estate makes you jump. “It’s getting worse out,” you mumble as you glance towards the shut window of your room. The shutters had been latched already; probably by a servant. You sigh, tucking your chilled hands into any warmth you could find under your blankets.

You glance out of the corner of your eye to find Sukuna. He’d already laid flat. His large back facing you. For some reason, you felt disappointed. Did he already subdue to slumber? He’d been training extensively the last day and a half… perhaps he was more exhausted than you’d thought.

Alone with your thoughts, as you always seemed to be.

You find it hard to find sleep, staring above at the ceiling as the lantern flickers lightly. Its orange hue illuminating the room in a beautiful way.

It feels like an eternity passes as you wait for sleep, but it doesn’t seem to come. The only thing creeping up on you being the chills. Your feet were miserably icy and your hands ached. You wouldn’t be able to sleep at this rate, you thought. Yet, when you glanced towards the large sleeping man beside you… he was still.

Your eyes widened when you realized he’d been sleeping on his injured shoulder. He must’ve been tougher than you thought to do such a thing.

A shiver breaks through you painfully and you curl your legs into you. The fetal position you form being the best technique at keeping any form of heat in. Yet, you still shiver away. Teeth chatter quietly inside your closed mouth. You really hoped he couldn’t hear-

“I can hear you shivering,” he utters with a quiet sigh. His deep voice softer than usual. “You’re hearing th-things,” you say and immediately clench your teeth, shrinking back into your futon for stuttering. Talking while fighting the cold had always been a challenge.

The shuffling of fabric catches your ears and you move your eyes towards his form. He’d turned over, facing you in all his glory. The light of the lantern illuminating his face partly, but just enough to where you could meet his dark gaze.

The two of you live in each other’s eyes for just a few seconds before he raises his right hand, a tinge of pain washing over his features. Yet, before you could protest; he’s placed his index and middle finger against your cheek. The warmth from his fingers being drastically different than the coolness of your cheek. It almost makes you gasp, but your lips only part a bit.

“You are going to turn to ice at this rate,” he mumbles and the low vibrations of his voice ignite the fire within you. You take in a shaking breath, grateful you could blame that one on the cold if he noticed. “I’m used t-to it,” you say with a pitiful smile. He isn’t convinced, you notice.

He’s removed his hand from your face. Now grasping the thick blankets above you. He peels them off of you slowly, as if he were unwrapping an important artifact. Yet, he moves it just enough to where you’re still partially covered but he moves closer to you. His large body moves closely against yours as he pulls the blankets back over the both of you now. You were grateful to have such a large futon.

In a situation like this, you’d be alarmed by a man climbing into your futon without permission.

It was Sukuna, after all. His towering height and burly body sucked you in almost immediately. The heat in which he radiated made you sigh in relief as the aching iciness in your bones slowly left you.

It was innocent, you felt. He meant no other reason other than warming you up. Once warm, he’d return to his original spot… the thought hit your gut with a wave of heavy dread. Disappointment.

Eagerness. Carnal desire.

You glanced up towards his face, which sat a whole other head above yours. An ache in the back of your neck could be felt due to the angle you’d positioned it. “How is it now?” He asks you in a hushed tone. When he speaks the lantern flickers, as if he had influenced it.

The distance between your bodies is small; enough to wear you could just barely feel the hardness of his large body against yours. It’s intoxicating and quite pitiful how it darkens your mind.

When you move to rest on your right arm, fully facing his body with your own; you boldly place your left hand against the area where his upper stomach would be. Just right below his pectorals. The heat under the palm of your hand was exponential and you were shocked any human man could emit this much heat. Though you weren’t complaining.

Far from it actually.

The simple touch had shot the heat that absorbed into your hand directly to the other parts of your body. From your toes to the tip of your nose, you radiated with sparks. The internal flame within you bursting alive a hunger you never experienced before.

The sensation causes you to close your eyes as you focus on where you’re touching him.

You feel how solid he was even with the layers he wore. The ridges of his abdominal muscles could be felt as you steadily roam your hand over him; exploring his body as if he were uncharted land. That in which he was. You’d never touched a man before… especially in this way. It exhilarated you, feeling Sukuna in the way you are now.

With his warmth and musky scent surrounding you; you’d completely forgotten how cold you were before. All senses were taken over by him. Your sight, smell, touch, even hearing… but one.

As your roaming hand finds the curve of his waist. It slides over it seamlessly, laying flat against his broad back. The muscles they’re just as stone-like as the front. You take that opportunity to pull him closer to you, closing the distance between your bodies. Stone muscles move under your hand as you feel him willingly scoot closer from your push.

He’s fully placed his right hand on the curve of your waist, holding it in a firm grip. The overwhelming largeness of it forming to your curves. His fingers slightly dig into the softness of your flesh that’s still covered by the yukata.

That’s when you finally reopen your eyes, noticing how much closer his face was to yours. He’d moved a bit down to meet your eyes. His nose aligned with the the tip of yours as you still bend your neck to look at him.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he rasps out; his deep voice making it difficult to speak quietly. The closeness of his voice sends a thrilling shiver through your body. You could feel the heat of his breath against your lips, causing you to bite your bottom one just barely enough to where he wouldn’t notice.

“It’s perfect,” you murmur.

You take hold of his haori with a fist, pressing your body even closer to his. All you can hear is your heartbeat in your ears and the feeling of the actual muscle thumping viciously against your chest. Your thighs rub together as you do your best to give yourself some sort of sensation, but Sukuna seems to have noticed.

The hand he had resting in the crook of your waist tightens its hold against you, making you gasp at the sudden shift.

He’s leaned closer; his lips just barely touching your own as he breathes against them. Warm, intoxicating breaths reel you in as seconds pass. You grow impatient, waiting for the warmth of his lips to be on your own. Yet, when he suddenly pulls away; you’re stunned.

He doesn’t pull away completely. Your bodies are still pressed against each other frustratingly so, but he takes his free hand that’s pinned between the two of you, grabbing your chin with his thumb and index finger.

All Sukuna does is gaze down at you with such an intense, hungry look. The darkness that’s swelled into his eyes shows prominently even in the faint lantern light. It’s inebriating, making you drunk off lust just by just the way he looks down at you.

Technically, you were above him; in class and more, but you wanted nothing more than to worship this man like he was your king.

You were on your knees for this man.

“Ryomen…” you plead, unsure what you’re even begging for. The soft way your voice breaks as you say his name almost causes his composure to crack. “Please.”

That’s when he’s on you, pressing his surprisingly soft lips against your own in a starving way. You immediately sigh into him, basking in his warmth, scent, and taste.

He tastes inviting; a flavor that attacks your tastebuds in almost a sinful way.

It’s delectable, swimming with hints of sweetness and bitterness that pulls you in.

Your hand on his back slides towards his chest now, resting against his large pectoral. The feeling of his erratic heartbeat could be felt under your palm as your hand slowly danced its way towards the back of his neck. Bare skin.

Against the flesh of your palm lay his warm skin, melting into you as if it were meant to stay there forever. Your fingers find his hairline, treading into the soft depths of his thick but short hair. When he feels your touch grazing against his scalp, he pulls you closer to him. Your chests are pressed against each other/

Your action bringing out a low rumble within his chest. One you could feel vibrating into your own. It felt oddly intimate, but as he licks his way into your mouth; you accept it.

His wet tongue grazes across your bottom lip before slightly pushing between both. You fully welcome him into your mouth, dancing your tongues together in a sensual rhythm. It almost makes you moan.

In the back of your lust drunken mind, you knew to be as quiet as possible. The challenge ahead of you fairing quite difficult already.

He then pulls away. The sound of your lips separating with an erotic sound. You’re gasping for air as he stares down at you with a passionate desire. His lips are swollen; rosy with color. Pink eyebrows are furrowed together frustratingly as he searches your face with his deep eyes.

You release your hand from his hair, brushing it back down the exposed potion of his large neck. You are still breathing heavily. Chest heaving in rhythm with your hammering heart beat.

Sukuna moves his hand from your chin to the back of your neck now, pushing your lips closer to his once more.

“If I’d known you tasted like that,” Sukuna grunts against your equally swollen lips with your own, “I would have devoured you a long time ago.”

Your self-control slips; lust and desire fully controlling you as you feel your instincts take over completely.

“What’s stopping you now?” You ask him, closing your eyes as you lean further in. His mouth is fully pressed against yours but he replies anyways; words muffled as he speaks into your mouth, “your clothing.”

When he’s pressed his lips fully onto yours for another, more intense kiss; he’s using the hand on your waist to untie the binds of your yukata. The fingers on the back of your neck dig into your skin just enough to earn a light grunt from you.

The feeling of cold air dances over your exposed stomach as he removes the yukata as if he’s unwrapping a gift. Slowly; just to be sure he doesn’t break what’s inside.

Even under the thick covers of the futon you could feel the chilling temperatures of the storm just outside your walls.

Sukuna’s intense body heat had quickly enveloped your newly exposed flesh. His hand exploring what he’d unwrapped to discover his new terrain.

When his large hand takes hold of the swell of your ass, you’re bucking into him. His fingers dig into the soft flesh as he pulls you tighter against him, bucking back into you. A grunt comes from his chest and into your mouth as he kisses you feverishly.

That’s when you feel the intimidatingly large and hard sensation of his eager erection pressed against your lower stomach. Though he wasn’t bare; it felt- your thoughts are cut off by his hand sliding from your ass and down your bare leg, hooking it over his waist. His strong fingers gripping into the flesh of your thigh.

While still attached to your mouth he flips you under him, planting both of forearms on either side of your head as he places one last heavy kiss to your abused lips.

With how you’re laying under him, it’s caused your yukata to completely open. Your body fully exposed to the man atop you. His gaze lingers as he glances at your breasts; to your neck; to your lips again, and finally your eyes.

“You’re heavenly,” he mumbles, taking his right hand to hold the side of your face. His thumb presses against your bottom lip while moves your head to give himself access to your neck. “Divine,” he continues his praise, pressing wet kisses along the expanse of your neck. “Elegant,” he says into your chilled skin. His compliments leave your stomach swirling with heat, pooling in your core between your legs.

Your thighs instinctively press together but are blocked by the girth of his waist between them. When he realizes what you need; he’s bucking his erection against your core, causing a sweet but quiet moan to fall from your lips.

“Please,” you gasp out in a whisper, feeling the way his thumb strokes across your wet bottom lip. He slides it into your mouth, pressing against your tongue as he moves his head to catch your eyes once more. “What do you want?” He asks you.

Once he removes his large thumb your words stumble out in a mess, “I want you, please.” You say pitifully, squeezing your thighs around his waist even tighter.

It’s when he chuckles, you’re feeling the vibrations of his deep voice radiating through his body. You didn’t care that he found humor in your begging. If anything, it reeled you in even more. He had you fully wrapped around his finger and soon his cock.

He doesn’t speak as he pulls away from you. Between your legs, he moves back to sit on his knees, reaching to remove his haori. The sound of him hissing has you in full alarm, but he immediately throws a hand up. “Don’t,” he commands and you nod, laying completely still in his line of sight as he undresses himself.

His haori soon slides off his broad shoulders, revealing the white kimono. Unlike other men, he only wore the single layer of kimono. It was probably due to his status… but that didn’t matter.

When he unties the kimono; he’s soon shrugging it off with ease, ignoring the pain in his right shoulder. His black hakama are all that remain as you take in view of the man before you. His large upper body had blocked out the light from the lantern, casting a shadow over you.

The night air quickly takes its chance to send a shiver down your spine once again. Your hands shake as you run them up your body, grazing them over your breasts in an almost taunting way. You feel how hard your nipples had gotten from the winter air. As you touch yourself under his gaze, you arch your back into your hands.

Within seconds, he’s removed his last layer. He’s standing above you now, stepping out of the hakama.

Yet, before you could even take the chance to glance at what he had been keeping contained within his clothing; he’s atop you once more, returning the heat you had missed desperately.

He takes a second to warm you up before pressing his fully bare cock against your clit, spreading a warmth into you that you hadn’t known you needed. It’s such a pleasurable sensation you throw your head back with a silent gasp, holding his gaze.

“You are a virgin, right?” He asks you, genuinely curious. You hadn’t ever discussed such topics with him. Of course he wouldn’t have known. “Yes…” you breathe out as he holds his wait up with his left forehead beside your head. He’s leaned down to press his lips under your ear, nipping at it. You twitch as the sudden sharpness, shuddering when he chuckles.

“I’m glad I get to be the one to ruin you.”

His words in your ear make your heart hammer harder against your chest, if that was even possible.

Your hands had moved from your breasts to his bare sides, taking in the entirety or Ryomen Sukuna. For just a 25 year old man, he held more power over any other man in the village. He held power over you as well; you were completely, absolutely his.

The way his ripped muscles felt under your fingers was driving you mad, causing you to buck up into him. A light hiss releasing from his lips into the skin of your neck as he kisses down to your collar bone.

Soon enough, he’s taken one of your nipples into his mouth. The other breast being fondled by his large hand. You release the loudest moan you had so far, which causes him to release the breast in his hand to cover your mouth.

You glance down, locking your eyes with his as he lightly nips at your nipple with his white teeth.

“As much as I want to hear those pretty sounds,” he mumbles into the flesh of your breast. He nips at your flesh, possibly leaving a mark before finishing his sentence, “I’m not trying to be banished from the village right now.”

He releases your mouth and your lips part, showing your eagerness for all of him.

Yet, he pulls his waist away from yours.

The hand he’d used to cover your mouth trails down the curve of your waist and over your hip… it finds its way back over the soft expanse of your stomach and then further below. His thick fingers graze over the sensitive flesh of your clit, sliding between the folds with ease as he discovers just how wet you are.

The foreign sensation has you electrified, making your hips jerk at his touch. You’d never been touched like that before.

He swirls his fingers over you and your eyes slam shut as you buck into him. It’s indescribable how pleasant it feels; a warm and blooming sensation growing in the base of your gut as he does so. You can hear his light chuckling even with your heart hammering in your ears.

You wonder how it could get any better than this… but when you open your eyes, you’re watching as Sukuna takes your other nipple in his mouth. Just as he does, you feel a warm intrusion and a groan from the both of you.

“You’re so tight,” he says into your flesh as you feel his tongue swirl around your nipple. You could feel his two fingers deep inside of you, slowly moving back out as you adjudge to the sheer size of them.

It wasn’t painful, but from the chatter of the other women… you were told in times it could do. He hadn’t even gotten to the main part yet, you thought. It’s possibly it wouldn’t hurt.

He begins to thrust his fingers into you with a slow pattern. Each time he’d bottom out to his knuckle, you’d release a breath. The sensation was unreal; unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

He releases his breast from his mouth to kiss your sternum. His lips trail further below, kissing the area above your belly button.

“More,” you plead, taking your hand to cup the side of his face. He looks at you softly, but a sly smirk grows on his features. “If you weren’t in danger of freezing to death I could do so much more,” he promises as he climbs back up your body. He’s removed his fingers from your clit, bringing them towards his face.

You watch as he sticks them into his mouth, cleaning yourself off of him with a feral look in his eyes. “Like what?” You ask him, interested. “In time you’ll see. For now,” he explains, removing his fingers from his mouth, “I say we stick to the first step.”

You weren’t an idiot, so you knew what that meant. A part of you wondered if he was holding back, especially after learning you were celibate.

Yet, when you feel the way his cock sits heavily against your clit, you swallow nervously. You hadn’t even seen it but you could feel how big it was.

On instinct, you reach between your bodies to find it. Your fingertips coming into contact with something large and very warm. It’s when he hisses that you’re sure you did the right thing. You take him in your hand, squeezing just a bit as you feel how large he actually was. A but if wetness can be felt dripping down your hand.

You were nervous.

As he looked down at you, catching the nervous look in your eyes; Sukuna sighs, “I’ll be easy,” he tells you. You nod, sliding your hand down his shaft which gets a buck of his hips and a sly remark, “at first.”

“I’m not a fragile person,” you remind him, making his eyebrow raise. “Give me all you got.”

Your words you almost regret as he takes your hand from his cock and gathers your other one to pin them at the top of your head. “You’ll regret demanding that of me,” he tells you and you don’t reply. “Please,” is all you beg.

He keeps your hands bound with just his left hand as he takes his right to position himself at your entrance. You can feel as he spreads the wetness with his tip through your folds, teasing you a bit. You buck into him again, tired of waiting.

All you wanted was to be fully taken over by Sukuna. “Take me,” you plead to him, feeling his tip make its way back to your entrance.

He then releases your bound wrists to hold himself up as he begins pushing in further. “You’re drenched,” he purrs, his eyes closed as he pulls back out a bit to push back in.

You’d never seen his face as soft as it was now. He looked as if he was in pure ecstasy, taking your virginity as if it were just some collectors item. You’d gladly gift it to him.

When his cock finally makes it a quarters way in, you hiss. Your hands push at his lower abdomen on impulse. The sudden intrusion bringing a slightly searing pain you didn’t expect to feel. He immediately stops, glancing up at you in concern.

You nod once, removing your hands from his stomach to signal he can continue. You clench your eyes shut, holding onto his forearms as he finally slides himself completely inside. You’re slightly squirming, adjusting to the new feeling of being stuffed. It’s painful, but also exhilarating.

You’re panting now, digging your face into the stone muscle of his left arm. He’s motionless, letting you decide the next move.

“You can move,” you finally whisper after a few seconds. He does, almost eagerly.

Within seconds, you feel the pain being taken over by waves of intense pleasure. Though still slightly uncomfortable, it’s the way Sukuna’s face makes you feel as he slowly thrusts into you. It’s heartwarming, seeing his pink lashes flutter close as he bottoms out into you over and over. He’s breathtaking, you tell yourself.

It’s when you release one of your hands from his arms to cup the side of his face, causing his eyes to open. He looks absolutely spent, probably from the training and being up.

Beads of sweat pool at his hairline as his dark eyes stare into your own.

“You’re beautiful,” you tell him with your whole heart. His thrusts become a lot heavier and quicker in pace. He’s not making a sound, but you could hear the almost silent grunts coming from behind his clenched teeth.

You’re sighing, feeling the same building up sensation as before in your stomach. “Ryomen!” You gasp, pulling him to you so your chests lay flat together. He’s still pounding into you, hard enough to where it’s not going to overstimulate you. It’s enough.

He’s placed his forearm behind your head, letting the back of it rest on it as his other lay flat on the other side. He’s got his lips back on yours, releasing a pent up groan into your mouth.

If you could have it your way, you’d be chanting his name as loud as you could. Praising him and pleasing him.

For now, your quiet promises to each other would have to do. You feel a sudden jolt, which causes your hips to buck into his thrusts. “I- I’m-“ you gasp out, unsure of what you’re even saying. “You’re what?” He asks into your lips, a slight smirk growing on his own. Your breaths are mixed together as you pant pitifully against him.

“I don’t know,” you confess, taking your hand to press against your stomach. “It feels-“ is all you say before he thrusts just a bit harder, gaining a whimper out of you. “Quiet,” he hisses, taking one of his hands to snake between the two of you.

He understands what you’re trying to tell him even though you aren’t sure. It excites him, knowing he can tear down your walls this easily.

He’s touching your clit again while he pounds into you. The sensations so good you gasp.

After about a minute, you’re unfolding in his hands. Your body feeling as if it were burning as it blossoms on his thrusting cock. “That’s right,” he rasps out, “let go.”

You were a whimpering mess as his continuous thrusting helped you through this new form of high. You never knew you could feel this way. It was addicting, and you wanted to feel it again.

As the high slowly faded, leaving you in an after glow; your body ached. Yet, he continued his movements, removing his hand from your clit to completely focus on himself now. You allowed him to, because though it felt like a lot… it was still pleasing, feeling him use you to please himself.

“Use me,” you tell him. He’d moved his face into the crook of your neck. His ear right next to your mouth. “I’m yours,” you whisper against his burning flesh. He grunts into your neck, thankfully muffled.

He then snakes his left arm under your back, grabbing your hip with his right hand. His fingers dig into your flesh.

Relentlessly, he’s pounding into you. Using you.

You’re overcome with pleasure, closing your eyes as you feel him bite into your neck as he nears his climax.

When he gets close, his thrusts become irregular. His breathing becoming heavier as the arm below you presses you into his body further.

His teeth graze against the skin of your neck before he bites down, hard.

You’re left gasping as he suddenly pulls out of you, placing his heavy cock on your stomach and thrusting against your soft skin as your bodies are pressed together.

You feel a sudden wet warmness on you. Assuming it was sweat, he then pulls away. His chest heaving as he stares down at the mess he’s made. You’re covered in his cum and his cock twitches at the sight of it.

One of his hands goes to cover his mouth as looks down at you. You’re glowing and he’s holding himself back; keeping himself from taking you once more.

He knew you probably would actually break.

He glances around the room and finds his kimono, taking the sleeve to wipe at your stomach. “It shouldn’t stain this,” he murmurs quietly as he cleans you. There was nothing else in the room to do so with.

You’re already back into a shivering mess and the sight makes him sigh. “Be patient,” he whispers. You nod, watching him finish. As he places his kimono away for now, he turns back to you.

Sukuna finds your yukata and wraps it back around you. The comfort of the cloth enveloping your body as he ties it.

It’s when he fully stands, you’re able to fully appreciate his naked body. He was a sight to behold and you wondered how someone like you could possibly be considered of higher rank than him…

He dresses himself, but just his hakama.

When he slides back under the blankets of the futon, his naked chest bleeds his heat onto you.

Your mind jumps to his wound, immediately concerned. You hadn’t spotted any blood but when you ask him to show you… it’s healed. The once deep wound nothing but a red line showing what it used to be. It’s genuinely shocking.

With wide eyes you stare at him but he continues to slide further into the futon. His gaze darkening as you eye him questioningly. “It’s none of your concern,” is all he says before he pulls you to him.

You knew better than to pester him any further on it. In time, you’d learn.

He keeps you warm the rest of the night.

You listen to the sounds of his heartbeat in one ear and the whistling of the wind outside in the other. It’s calming.

As you awake in the morning, you’re wrapped in an extra layer. The black fabric thick against your skin.

It smells heavily of Ryomen Sukuna as you blink the sleep away from your eyes, finding his haori wrapped around you.

Sukuna was no where in sight.

[m-ilkiee]

"Sometimes, we may have the best intentions for our friends, but ultimately, our actions can have the opposite effect. Such was the case of Emma Sano.

Although not her intention, she had pressured (name) into doing things that made her uncomfortable such as going to the mall with her brothers and making the girl forcibly interact with her abusers, encouraging her to sit on Manjiro's laps despite (name) expressing outward discomfort, and then leaving her with her brothers, who only became friendly with (name) a week prior. Her inability to see through her brothers' act and real intentions, coupled with her overzealousness to keep you in her life forever by setting you up with her brothers, has lead (name) into dangerous situations, such as nearly being assaulted by Manjiro Sano. Unfortunately, this will not be the last time that Emma's seemingly good intentions leads (name) further down the path of pain and regret."

Layla's commentary podcast on Chapter 3 of "Monsters"

Welcome to the second Monsters poll, how is everyone doing? I know some of you have written finals or are in the process of writing finals and to that I say comgratulations and good luck!

We had a few blips, but I'm back. And I'm better than ever. This chapter was an intense rollercoaster of emotions, bringing (name)'s fears and emotions to life. Unfortunately, it has also marked the beginning of the end for her since Manjiro has started to 'fall' in love with her. It's only a matter of time until Izana starts to chase after her since he has a constant need to outdo Mikey.

Now, as for chapter 4, we're bringing back the original black dragon members for this one. I won't spoil it for new readers, but this is the chapter that Shinichiro meets (name). It may go a lot differently from what og readers know, seeing as this is a timeline where Shinichiro had to fall into darkness to make sure his siblings were taken care of amd to save Izana out of the orphanage.

Izana will also play a huge part in this chapter, and there may be a huge development between him and (name), especially since Mikey will request him to watch (name) for him closely while they are at the Sano residence.

Takeomi may have had a few lines back then, but mow we have to remember, a girl like (name) is exactly his type and Shinichiro is complict in everything Takeomi does. What do you think happens when an older man in power wants a young woman who has no one to fight for her?

There is only one turning point, one decision that (name) will make that would seal her fate in chapter five and it involves one character, so:

Remember to reblog or send an anonymous asks why you think it's any of the three options or if you think it's someone else entirely.

For the blind item on the previous poll, congrats to anyone who answered: Rindou Haitani. Please message me if you did so that I'll give you your reward.

#2 Blind Item: Lust and Lies

"I wonder if Mikey knows it's obvious he's attracted to that girl. Long before the car incident, I always caught him staring at her body like it's a piece of meat, especially her legs and feet. He's not exactly trying to hide it either, seeing at how many times he admitted during Toman game nights that he'd fuck (name) if she wasn't a virgin and it would be the best sex of his life because her body is perfect. I wonder if he listens to himself when he lingers on her panty cam that he sent on the group, how he was so greedy with it before he eventually was forced to show us or how he seems to beat up any pledge or lower Toman member day dreaming about you.

At this point his attraction to her is an open secret. But he'll never admit it because he hates her so much." - submitted by an anonymous Toman exec. Who could this be? Let me know in the anons or the comments along with your answers for the poll.

[saccharineomens]

i've been poking at this too long to care how visually appealing it is anymore. My headcanons for the main characters' sexualities, based on canon information! (has no bearing on ships.) Canon speculation below the cut.

marcille (bi): fascinated by romance and loves romance. we only see her show explicit interest in a male (fictional character (General Halleus from the book series she loves)), but i don't think she's fully straight.

falin (aro? ace? lesbian? genderqueer?): falin's only interest in relationships in canon is 'she considered accepting shuro's proposal because she was afraid nobody else would want her, but felt it'd be unfair to him because she had no feelings for him'. i consider whether she's aroace or a lesbian or maybe bi/pan, and she also seems like she might have some genderqueer feelings, based on some of her discomfort with her body and wearing certain types of femme clothing. (Also the fact that she‘s part male dragon.) Since she ends the story going on a journey for herself, it feels like she'll finally get the chance to figure out what she wants.

laios (pan, demi): he hasn't shown explicit interest in men, but similar to marcille, i don't feel he's fully straight. He’s aesthetically attracted to monsters, at the very least, so gender probably doesn’t factor in for him. romance/sex just don’t seem to be much of a high priority to him in general, but he did think his ex-fiance was cute and didn't seem uncomfortable with the idea of marriage (just seemed unhappy with being trapped in his hometown), so i feel like demisexuality fits him well.

About his succubus: He was very noticeably not stopped in his tracks by it like Chilchuck and Marcille, but that could possibly be because it just….looked exactly like Marcille, not an obvious fantasy. He started blushing and stammering heavily when it turned into a monster, which like….this boy is definitely a furry/monsterfucker, if anything, but that doesn’t speak on his attraction to actual humans.

I think it speaks for something that the succubi are able to literally read minds and craft the perfect fantasy for their specific target. And for Laios, it wasn’t just “his friend Marcille”. It was a version of his friend Marcille that wasn’t grossed out by monsters, didn’t think he was weird for wanting to be one, and was able to turn Laios into one. It was a Marcille who understood him at his deepest level that made him become a blushing, stammering mess to rival Chilchuck. Which is why I think he’s Demi, and needs a strong emotional connection with someone before he finds them attractive.

kabru (pan): his special interest is people, and he's bold enough with his sexuality to kiss rin despite not being in a relationship with her. so being pan/bi feels appropriate.

chilchuck (bi): he has a wife, and they were childhood friends, so he's definitely allo. but his comments and behavior towards senshi makes me suspect he might be bi, and just never considered the possibility due to being in a committed relationship.

senshi (gay, ace): this is 90% off of vibes. he keeps to himself in the dungeon and doesn't seem to have any need for social company, he's a complete hermit. Being ace makes sense to me, but so would him just having a low social drive. His succubus was 'a woman he hadn't seen since he was a child', but his journal implies it wasn't a romantic/sexual attraction.

namari (bi/lesbian): she is at the very least attracted to women, given her behavior with kiki, but she does make a point to say that kaka is also attractive to her, and her friends at the bar tease her about Kaka being her “new” boyfriend (implying previous boyfriends).

shuro: the token straight (in love with falin, asked her to marry him). i love you shuro <3 (but i can also see him being into men. there's no evidence to the contrary)

izutsumi: aroace. literally no question. her succubus is her mother.

[naturalswimmingspirit]

shaktisuzie

It's National Nude Day today in the US and I wondered why we don't have a day like that here in the UK, or internationally? Perhaps because we're the ones who cover up more?!

Well, whatever reason, I'm here celebrating something we all know I LOVE to do - be naked!

This didnt always come so naturally to me though. I began nude art photography as part of my self-love journey. If you could hear and feel how harsh I was on my body in my younger years, you would know what a transformation and a huge step that was. It was a conscious choice to feeeeeel all the yukky feelings of being naked in front of a camera and someone who was fully clothed. It meant I could sit with those feelings and love myself through the pain and discomfort, and it worked! It also helped massively that I was so wonderfully supported and encouraged in this process. I would really recommend it as part of everyone's self-love and body acceptance journey 💕

It was the same intention when years ago I started skinny dipping during wild swimming. It is such an amazing practice of liberation from the feeling of not being enough - nature embraces you in your natural state and you feel so alive 🌟

Well the part of my body I hid until I was 28, was my boobs. Those of you following my journey recently will know I had tuberous breast, a breast abnormality, as well as asymmetry. This caused a lot of pain and shame as a young woman, and after implants my confidence that was there deep down, shone through as I no longer felt disfigured 💔

Well, fast forward, and now the implants are out, I've had some correctional surgery and I'm ready to be fully me, naked and shining to the world in all my glory. Yes, maybe I could have found love for my boobs back then in my teens and early 20s, if it was now perhaps I would, but we all go through whatever journey we need at the time. Mine has been a long one of returning to look back at exactly what I see in the mirror and telling her she's awesome, over and over, no matter how much I didn't mean it to start with 🌸

I hope we can all embrace this journey in our own way, and be naked and in our own body without shame 💖

[wordy-little-witch]

Hiiii PLS 🙏 wordy plssssz i need more transfem buggy headcanons like i love ur post but i need more🥹🤲 like the hc and scenarios that shook the seas,,, wat r crossguilds reaction n shanks n other pirates reaction uahxiskzkzs shes gonna b so hot dksk ive seen fanart and fembuggy looks so HOTTTT

Hiiiii honeybun!!! I got you, dw ♡♡

Reactions!!!!!!!

Shanks

• he finds out through news coos and bounty posters. It's no secret that the redhair pirates keep careful tabs on bounties, new and old faces alike in the game, but there's special attention to black haired rubber boys and blue haired clowns when it comes to bounties and reports. The crew knows this and supports it. So when they get a paper, when Benn reads through it and does a spit take with his coffee, everyone cones scurrying, especially when he yells for their captain.

• (romantic) Shanks, upon seeing the bounty and story, is left reeling. Buggy had always been breathtaking to him, had always been the epitome of everything he finds beautiful and attractive. Shanks adores Buggy, head to toe, inside out, and even then he could always see the little chinks in the other's armor, the discomfort and uncertainty that stained the clown's cells. It's in the microexpressions, he knows, and those signals are suddenly gone in these pictures. He's breathless. He's swooning. He needs to see Buggy in person.

• (platonic) similar to the above, Shanks keeps tabs on his precious people. And Buggy, his beloved baby brother, his beloved best friend, is among those he looks out for from afar. Seeing Buggy so different, so bright, seeing the way his - her - smile finally reaches her eyes and eyebrows and cheeks, it makes him melt a little. He's proud, so proud, so happy that Buggy looks happy and healthy, and he's.... he wants. By the Seas, he wants to see her. He wants to see and meet his sister.

Crocodile

• Depending on the time frame when the change happens, Crocodile either meets Buggy for Cross Guild as a woman or deals with the transitional phase with the business. If it's the latter, he actually makes a point to try affirming what he believes is Buggy's gender identity in vague terms. Then, when Buggy begins to shy away from them, he moves to more neutral monikers, heavy on the Clown and Fool.

• upon being told that Buggy identifies as a woman, he just rolls with it. He has to fight the trans urge to make "we traded genders" jokes, which he blames proximity to the clown for. He's not going to cause a ruckus about it. He will however cause bodily injury if someone else has an issue with that.

• he's absolutely livid, btw, that he finds the clown attractive like this. It's not the body, not exactly - Croc doesn't really care one way or another about the configuration downstairs of his partners - but he is attracted to intelligence, confidence, power, and how pretty someone is when they cry. Sue him, he has a type. It just so happens that Buggy, newly confident, newly steady, is branching out into all of his standards while staying so utterly charming. He's so mad about it. He wants to kiss her. He's going insane.

Mihawk

• he doesn't stick to labels. They're boring. He doesn't care. He will admit however that the majority of those who held his interest were men. The Clown was an exception - though not because of her gender. He's typically drawn to people by their Haki signatures, and he has noticed a common trend in those he enjoys - Shanks with his firey volcanic energy, Crocodile feeling akin to the desert lands he called home, even Roronoa Zoro's antiquated cliffside mountainous energy. He finds earthy energy to be the most comfortable, emotional aspect be damned. The Clown is very much a different element, liquid and mutable and dynamic. It is reflective, overtly bright and rippling uncontrollably. Odd, he admits, but not investing.

• it's when Buggy calms, when she blooms, that Migawk sees the ripples calm, sees the sharp reflections soothe themselves, and sees that the seemingly shallow pond of energy is but a cover which leads into a fathomless sinkhole. The shores are quaint, smooth, beautiful, and lead gradually further and further in towards a sharp drop which casts the Blues into blacks and the blacks into abyssal shade. It's strange, it's unusual, it's delicious.

• it especially helps that Mihawk finds Buggy to be rather good company. Without her forced shrill demeanor and loud hypervigilance, she's actually a wonderful conversationalist. He enjoys her company. It's unexpected.

More romantic aspects bc I am absolutely melting over it-

Cross guild

• Buggy has always been rather touchy-feely, something she constantly fights with because of her past and experiences. She adores cuddles, holding hands, casual touches, and the like. Her boyfriends aren't exactly the types to love PDA or to seek out physical touch. They do allow her to indulge, however, and they each have their preferred manners of doing so.

- Mihawk

- - in public, will pull a full chivalrous move, offering her his arm, his hand when she climbs up or down, a casual yet respectful hand on her waist to guide her.

- - in private, he will cuddle against her back when he is amenable to touch, chin over her shoulder as they both read a book, one arm wrapped around her waist, fingers caressing the soft skin of her soft sides, other hand tangled with one of her own. If not that, he will become a cat in human form, wordlessly smacking whatever was in her hands away to burrow into her stomach or chest, going limp yet clinging in a mess of contradictions. It never fails to earn a slightly annoyed snicker from her.

- Crocodile

- - in public, he and Mihawk seem to share a general demeanor insofar as the types of touches. He does however take it further by occasionally just plucking her up into his arm, treating her as a dainty little thing, casual touches peppered throughout that imply a level of possessiveness, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, a drag of fingertips or hook along her shoulder, a curl of a hand at her hip.

- - in private, the touches come and go, but the emotion behind them remains. Sometimes he will simply trail fingers over her spine or shoulders, absent and affectionate. Sometimes he will drag her into the cage of him limbs to have and hold her close, a cheek pressed to her chest, hand cupping the other breast in a simple gesture.

BONUS REACTIONS

Luffy

• only thinks "uncle buggy -> auntie buggy"

• does not care, Buggy is Buggy.

• is happy that Buggy is happy!!!

• will throw hands if anyone is mean to his aunt, his hands are rated E for Everyone.

Rayleigh

• for a long time, didn't even know. Finds out by rumors in a random bar which he is Hella confused by and so fact checks. Has a mild moment when he realizes his baby boy is in fact a baby girl now. Wild. Decides to go see his daughter because What The Fuck Buglet

• no he doesn't cry when he sees Buggy. He just.... got sand in his eye. He did not get emotional when he saw his youngest child beam at him with a smile so like Roger's, in bold colors which suited her, so bright, so joyful, so free -

• he remembers the trembling, scrappy little being who would huddle between him and Roger after bad fights, so uncertain, so scared, so far removed from the young woman before him today, and Rayleigh just smiles, bonks her on the head and calls her princess.

• and if he pulls her aside later on and they sit together on the beach, drinking together, well.... when he says Roger would be so proud of her, he means it. And when she cries? Well. He won't tell anyone about it. It's a private moment between father and daughter.