#the voice itself is cute it’s so babygirl

[saetoru]

i’m gonna rewatch jjk season 2 in dub just for the excuse to rewatch

[bitterbutblue]

feixiao on top!

i'm guilty of falling for you twice ☆ feixiao x reader

~ feixiao is so cool shes so cool but shes also so babygirl coded u need to hear me out guys u need to SEE my vision like shes so babygirl coded please hjgsfjkhdlkjlka anyways domestic fluff with feixiao because we should love her more instead of thirsting over her

song: fallin' twice - chevy (robin's singing voice!!)~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

"Jiaoqiu, can you stop that!"

"I'm trying to cook!"

"You're being irritating-"

Feixiao lets out a loud groan as the sounds of bickering fill the room once more. Being around you and Jiaoqiu always feels like a babysitting job with how often the two of you argue over the smallest things, whether it be his food being too spicy or your need to add coriander to everything.

"Guys, please."

Her voice cuts through the bickering like a knife, and you immediately shut up. You look away, pouting like a child with your arms crossed as Jiaoqiu raises an eyebrow, glancing between you and Feixiao.

"How'd you get her to shut up?" Jiaoqiu looks at Feixiao, who just hums as she flips to the next page in her book with minimal regards to your pouty state. You shoot a glare at him.

"Do you want me to keep going?"

"Both of you, calm down." Feixiao rolls her eyes "Jiaoqiu, can you excuse us for a bit?"

"Wha-"

The look she shoots his way has him closing his mouth and leaving the room with a disgruntled huff. The second the door closes, Feixiao gets up to walk towards you, wrapping her arms around you from behind.

"Darling-"

"He was being a bitch!"

"Language." She chides, lightly flicking the back of your head with her finger. You wince, but ultimately melt into her embrace as she rests her head atop yours.

"You mustn't keep picking fights with him, he saved my life."

"He's a cocky little bitch." You whine, and she just laughs. Her laugh sounds genuine, not those she puts on for appearance in front of the other generals, or in front of Jiaoqiu or Moze. Her laugh around you is light, and for a moment all you can focus on is the feeling of her heart beating through her chest, echoing onto you as her hand interlaces itself with yours.

"He may be sometimes, but you should still try to see him the way I do."

You turn around to face your girlfriend, sighing.

"I don't actually hate him, Feixiao."

"I know. But for my sake, stop arguing with him all the time?"

You don't notice the way her breath hitches in her throat when you smile up at her, you don't notice the way her heart jumps and flips when you reach up to cup her cheek. You don't see how her eyes soften when you tilt your head to the side with a small smile.

You don't notice how she falls for you all over again over something as simple as a smile.

"Anything for you baby."

She just blinks, face turning a light pink and you grin.

"Flustered?"

"No." She responds quickly, clearing her throat as she looks away. You grin up at her, pulling her so that she's now standing in front of you.

"You're so pretty when you blush." You whisper, and her ears fold down from embarrassment which has your heart absolutely soaring. Who else gets to see the tough general like this?

"You- uh.." Her eyes dart around the room anxiously, worried that someone may walk in.

"Stop worrying."

She yelps when you tug her down,. She stumbles over her feet, catching herself on the armrests of your chair so that she has you caged in between her arms. She turns redder at your close proximity and you laugh because how is she still so flustered around you when you've been dating for almost two years now?

"You're adorable."

She wants to swoon, the great general of the Yaoqing reduced to a giggly mess over her girlfriend. It took her a while to finally be able to put her guard down around you, but being able to do that was the best decision of her life. You love her, unconditionally.

She loves you, unconditionally.

"You're... you're also cute." She mumbles out, and you smile up at her before moving to quickly give her a peck on the lips.

"I know."

She finally lets out another laugh, the softest smile on her face.

"Get over yourself..." She mumbles, before kissing you again. You smile into the kiss, hand cupping her cheek before she pulls away.

"Jiaoqiu will return any moment now. Do I look alright?"

Her face is red, ears flapped downwards and she looks like a giggly schoolgirl after seeing her crush.

She looks perfect to you.

"He will definitely suspect something."

"Fuck."

Se doesn't get any time to even recompose herself because Jiaoqiu storms in, finger pointed up at you two as if accusing you of a crime.

"I KNEW IT. I KNEW IT- GAY PEOPLE! GAYS! MOZE, YOU OWE ME!! THEY'RE GAY AND KISSING!"

"JIAOQIU, GET OUT!"

[touyaz]

love shot

pairing shidou ryuusei x fem reader

word count 1.7k

notes the dialogue in this is the focal point & i was experimenting with it a lot, so shidou does say really . weird things. he's a lil hot + nasty like that <3 if you dont like it sorry u have no taste ♥️🙏

WARNINGS oral (f rec), masturbation (m), fingering, lots of petnames (wife, babygirl, and some other weird ones), reader has body hair. calls reader's pussy 'she' but otherwise no pronouns.

MINORS, AGELESS & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ ONLY.

"ain't this the dream?" shidou murmurs, kneading your hips mindlessly. his head is buried in the crook of your neck, lips peppering kisses wherever they can. "bagged a cute, lil wife all for myself."

"stop it," you protest, leaning your head towards his so he has no space to press on. "we can do this later."

a displeased whine escapes him, and he tilts his head to dot kisses along your shoulder instead. "fuck that," he groans, and one hand comes up to tug the neckline of your shirt away. his mouth is hot against you, a little meaner than earlier with how he nips at your skin. he sweetens the blow with a fleeting kiss, only to repeat it all in the next second. "want your attention on me now."

"and i want to finish making dinner, but i guess—" you yelp when he bites the juncture between your neck and shoulder, dropping the knife in your hand so you can bat at his hands. "sei!"

"my bad," he snickers, his smirk searing itself into your flesh. "what'cha cookin', sweetcheeks?"

"curry," you snap, holding on to the edge of the counter when he doesn't budge. you bow your head, and as much as you want to finish making dinner, it's getting harder to focus on what you need to do next when shidou licks up the slant of your neck, nibbling on that soft spot behind your ear. "but it's all gonna— gonna burn if you keep this up."

"that's fine," he drawls, voice low like the rumble of a jet lifting off with the promise of taking you to new highs. "i'm in the mood for somethin' else, anyway."

there's no question about what he means when his hand snakes down your front, cupping where you're warm, wanting.

"bet you're pretty hungry for me yourself, huh?" he grins, rubbing over your sex firmly despite the layers. you can't deny it has you a little desperate, melting like butter in the hot pot next to you. it's always been too easy for him to get you like this, to have you craving whatever it is that he wants to do to you. "gonna let me take care of that for you?"

"you can do what you want later," you try again, one final attempt to win this battle, but shidou's never been one to share first place when it comes to competitions.

"or, i can turn this shit off," he starts, and he takes it upon himself to ruin everything you've done, turning the knob on the stove, so the fire dies out. "and you can hop onto the counter and let me dig into that sweet cunt of yours. sounds a lot better my way, yeah?"

there's no point in moaning about your half-cooked meal when he drags you away and helps you sit up on a cleaner surface.

"you're making dinner tonight after this," you tell him.

"yeah, yeah, whatever." he's more focussed on getting you out of your clothes, dragging your underwear down, too, and kicking the pile away when you're finally half-naked for him.

"and washing up."

"babydoll, i'll do whatever you fuckin' want, long as you spread your legs for me."

his words have you biting your cheek, and in a last ditch effort to defy him, you don't part your legs like he wants you to.

you also don't stop him from pushing them apart himself.

"not so mouthy now, are you?" he snickers, staring down at you. you can't hold his gaze and it makes him laugh louder. but then he leans in to kiss your cheek softly and the contrast has you clinging onto the edge of the counter, gulping. "you're so fuckin' cute," he murmurs, biting the fat of your cheek teasingly. "it's alright, baby, your cunt's doin' all the talkin' for you, dripping all over the kitchen. this your secret ingredient? cookin' up a love shot for me tonight?"

"shut up," you admonish, squeezing your eyes shut as if that'll help drown out his words. "that's so gross."

"fuck yeah, it is." he grins, canines bared and ready to feast. he finally sinks to his knees, and his voice sounds far away but no less overwhelming. "wouldn't mind you doing it for real. wouldn't ever wanna eat anything without it, though." he drags your legs over his shoulders easily. he wastes no time in getting his mouth on you, licking a long stripe up your slit and groaning at the taste. "oh, fuck yeah, this is it. been starving for your pussy juice all fuckin' day."

"don't— don't say that." you pull on his hair, taking your embarrassment out on him, but the moan he belts out doesn't sound the slightest bit pained.

"eh, why not?" he sucks your clit into his mouth, grazing his teeth over it lightly enough to make you jerk in his hold. he lets go with a wet smack of his lips, waiting patiently for you to look at him. when he notes the haze in your eyes, the dew on your lashes and the crease in your brows, he grins. "don't wanna hear how I've been thinking about your angel cunt all day? jacked off so many fuckin' times as well—"

"shut up—" you cry, yanking his hair, but he only rolls his eyes back shamelessly.

"fuck yeah, sexy." he drags you to the edge of the counter and back onto his eager mouth. his tongue is hot, wet, everywhere all at once. "pull it harder," he goads. "make it hurt."

narrowly, you watch as one hand disappears below, followed by the sounds of clothes ruffling as he loosens his trousers. "gonna make me nut all over the fucking floor."

he slurps noisily, messily, but it's not enough to mask the grunts and wet clicks that track each stroke of his length. his arm is a blur to you as he pumps himself, and your fingers flex around his pink-tipped strands in an attempt to ground yourself to something that isn't the lewd slide of his tongue into your sopping hole. his free hand joins in now, and it's your eyes rolling back this time, whimpers trickling out you as he starts circling your clit.

you barely understand when he starts mumbling into your pussy, "how about i'll cook ya dinner and you clean up my cum, how's that sound? off my dick and off the floor— so fuckin' dirty, bet you'd do it, though, eh?" he isn't looking for an answer, continues flicking his tongue and pinching your swollen bud and fucking his own fist to your whines. "soaking my face so much, yeah, you would do it, wouldn't ya? you've been like this all day? been waitin' for me to come home and eat you out? put up a fight earlier for what?" he slaps your clit lightly, but it's enough to have you bucking up, gasping. "yeah, that's it. been wanting this sloppy cunt on my face all day."

another hit lets you hear just how soaked you are from all his spit and drool, from your own arousal. "listen to that, she's been missing me, huh? sweet thing's been pent-up and leaking for me all day, haven't ya?" he kisses your clit and all along your slit, unabashedly wetting his lips with your arousal. "i'm here, babygirl, gonna take care of ya, gonna give you everything you're dripping for."

he uses his entire hand to spread your arousal around. he drags the mess from your slit upwards, soaking the hairs on your pelvis and drying off on your thighs only to push his fingers into your aching hole and follow the slick trail with his tongue instead.

"you ready to cum, baby?" through half-lidded eyes you can make out the way he looks up at you, eyes dark but sparking wickedly. "gonna give me all your honey-sweet love juice?"

you shake your head, gritting your teeth and hating every word that leaves him. you hate how it has you leaking onto his tongue, the coil inside of you winding tight.

he sinks his teeth along your thighs, curls his fingers in your pussy, and screws his hand around his dick. it's too much. he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks; he slips a third finger in and crooks it just right—

"don't leave me hangin' now, sugarcunt," he calls out. "let me get a taste of ya, i'm so fuckin' hungry. thought you were gonna feed me, huh?"

—and you cum with a drawn-out cry of his name, and he drags your high out until it hurts for him to give you any more.

"there she goes, give me all that sweet angel nut, baby."

your head spins, body heavy yet weightless.

over the sounds of your stilted breaths, you hear him growling, wet schlicks following as he brings himself to his own release. "oh, fuck yeah, this is it— gonna bust a— all over. should've cum in your little cunt— do it, next— gonna cum— gonna fuckin'—" his body tenses up and you watch as his cum spurts out, staining your cupboards.

he'll definitely be cleaning that up himself.

"that's the good shit," he sighs, slowing down his strokes. "feels so much better blowin' my load after eating your cum first. might have to bottle you up," he laughs tiredly. he slumps over, resting his head on your knee, and you push back the sweaty strands that cling to his forehead.

"what's—" you pant, taking a deep breath in. his chest heaves, but he doesn't look half as affected as you; if anything, he looks ready to go for another round or two, already dotting kisses back up your thigh. "what the hell's honey love juice?"

"all this good shit." he beams, easily sinking two fingers into your pussy. when he pulls them back out, he shows off the creamy strands of your arousal proudly. "and it's honey-sweet love juice. not a fan?"

"god, no," you grumble, staring at the webs that hang between his fingers.

you grimace as he slips his fingers into his mouth, speaking around them, "tastes sweet as honey, though." your face scrunches up with distaste and he continues, "how about sugar squirt, then? or creamy sex slick? or droolin'—"

[calumfmu]

omg stop that (loser)step dad!steve blurb was so cute u should do one where like reader and steve have a little baby girl and the boys are like "😒😒😒..." but once she's born, she's got them wrapped around her tiny finger LOL like they're completely enamoured by her once they see her

thank you babbyyyy <3 hope you enjoyed this one. it's a bit on the shorter side (well for me), but i'm glad that you enjoyed the first part. No cw for now, just cuteness. 901 words

She was beautiful. Her tiny fingers pressed to her chest, body curled up in that cute position newborns make, a soft towel wrapped around her as Steve rocked her in his arms. He couldn't take his eyes off of her, wetness dampening his lashes as he whispered to her.

"Hi, babygirl," he smiled, gently running a finger over her head. She had little strands of dark hair there, color mirroring his own. You sat on the hospital bed, exhaustion coursing through your veins, yet a small smile sitting on your lips.

They looked perfect there together, father and daughter. Steve was meant for this, you could tell. In this moment, you felt a similar feeling to your birth with your other two sons, like life made sense.

There was a knock on the door, it creaking open to reveal the nurse, head popping through.

"Harrington?" She smiled, voice low as she took notice of the sleeping baby in your husband's arms. The both of you looked towards her, eyes crinkling with the happy emotions you felt. "I have some people who want to meet the little girl."

She stepped into frame, your sons piling in. Your eldest son had his serious look on his face, lips pressed together as he looked bored. Your youngest was in a similar fashion, trying his hardest to mimic his brother, yet you could see right through the two of them. The nurse left the four (and a half) of you alone, closing the door behind her with a soft shut.

"Hey you guys," you whispered, voice raspy as you reclined. Your eldest looked concerned at you winced, shifting in your bed.

"Ma, you okay?" He said, eyes wide. Nodding, you smiled, opening up your arms as they both came to your side, hugging you. Steve stood watching you, rocking with his body as his eyes kept flitting back on your daughter in his arms.

"You want to meet her?" You asked, smiling as they both nodded. They tried keeping serious expressions, but you could see it in their eyes, they were curious. Your youngest ran over to Steve, peering over him as he caught sight of her. Immediately, he melted, mouth parting open in shock as she made a small noise, face scrunching up.

"She's so small," he whispered, placing a light touch on her blanket-covered body. Steve laughed, nodding in agreement. "Can-can I hold her?"

"Yeah, buddy," Steve said, head nodding over to the chair in the corner of the room. "Just gotta sit down first, and I'll hand her over."

He complied, running over to plop down, arms wide open. Steve placed her in his arms, instructing him on how to hold his arms out. The two of them were beaming, sharing their thoughts on how she looked, your son saying she looked like him if anything. Steve hovered over him, smiling, but you could see that protectiveness already kicking in, his eyes watching like a hawk at every movement your son made.

You drew your gaze away from them, looking at your oldest who stood awkwardly, a few feet away from the bed, gaze stuck on the baby. He kept looking at Steve too, suspicion on his face.

"You want to hold her too, sweetie?" Apprehension covered your voice, not sure how to deal with him when it came to this. It had been a year and a half since you and Steve were married, yet he was still wary of the man he called a 'stranger in 'our' home'. There was nothing you could've done or said that would have made him accept Steve faster, figuring that it would work itself out on its own. It hurt you, but it was your normal now.

"Ah, I think I'm good," he nodded, but still kept his eyes on her. He gasped when his little brother shifted his elbow, her body dipping a little bit. "Watch your elbow--Jesus Christ, man."

He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. You bit back a smile at the outburst, knowing that he was in the same boat as all of you--smitten over this little girl who was not even aware of the world yet, let alone all of you.

"Babe, go hold her," you whispered, nodding your head at him. He looked at you, eyes wide. "It's okay."

Crossing the room, he maneuvered her out of the younger boy's arms, gripping her firmly. She rested against his shoulder, a small cry of a noise leaving her mouth. He looked up at Steve, fear on his face. "Is that--was that normal? Did I hurt her?"

Steve shook his head, leaning into him as he placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't complain at the touch, the first time that has happened. Hope bubbled at your chest, your boys finally all being connected.

The young boy in the chair kicked his feet, impatience pulling at him. "Okay, you're done! You're taking too long, my turn now!"

"Shut it, I've only held her for, like, 6 seconds!"

"That's not fair! Steve! Tell him!" He cried out, pouting exaggeratedly.

"Boys relax! She'll be here a while, there's plenty of time," Steve laughed, holding his hands out in front of him. They quieted down, eyes returning to rest on her. Your heart felt full, grateful for this little bundle that graced your world, finally bringing your family together.

Masterlist! Inbox and requests are open! <3

[nqctar]

floppy eared surprise

이찬영 / anton lee ★

pairings: cg! anton lee x f!little reader. genre: sfw age regression, tooth rotting fluff. synopsis: cg!anton comes back from his incheon trip bearing a floppy eared gift. warnings: nonsexual usage of 'daddy.' no major warnings apply.

the moment anton walked through the front door, you were attached to his hip. he’d been gone for an entire week and it would be an understatement to say you only missed him.

even though the two of you facetimed each night and you babbled on and on about the things you did while little, it was still nothing compared to physically being with him. you wrapped your arms around anton and held on tight as if he were about to disappear into thin air.

“i’m not going anywhere, baby. don’t worry.” he mumbles into your hair before kissing the top of your head. you smile and nuzzle your head against him. “just making sure!”

“guess what, bunny?” you pull your head away from anton’s chest and look up, beaming at him. “what is it, daddy?”

“i got you something.” he pulls away from you to go through one of his bags and stops once he seemingly finds it. anton turns to you, a small smile creeping onto his face.

he holds the item behind his back carefully so that you can’t see it, and turns to the side when you try and look around him to take a peek at whatever it is. “close your eyes first. it’s a surprise.” his voice is soft, and you feel like there’s a hint of shyness in his tone.

you close your eyes and wait, still beaming happily. anton carefully guides your hands up and then places something in them. it’s big enough to fit in both of your palms, yet it isn’t heavy. actually, it’s incredibly soft.

you feel around it, smoothing out its fur and playing with the floppiness of its ears. you giggle, almost certain that you know what it is.

“okay, open your eyes babygirl.” your eyes flutter open and a small gasp escapes you. in your hands is the cutest bunny plush you’ve ever seen. the fur is a snowy color and there’s a blue gingham pattern on the inside of its ears.

it boasts a permanent small smile and even has rosy cheeks, presenting itself as the perfect companion. to you, it’s absolutely perfect.

anton mistakes your silence as dissatisfaction and begins trying to explain why he picked it up in the first place.

“i wasn’t too sure if you’d like it, but i thought it looked so cute. and he was just sitting in the window all alone, i had to rescue him for you.” anton rambles on, speaking fast and slightly louder than normal. he fidgets with the strings on his hoodie and then pulls them tight, now covering his face with the hood.

“and he was so excited to meet you, too! he told me himself, y’know.” “plus, i always call you bunny…” he stammers, now sounding completely muffled by his hoodie.

you look up at him with teary eyes, blush forming on your face that matched your new stuffie.

“daddy, he’s perfect!” you wrap your arms around anton and pull him into a tight hug. “this is the bestest gift i’ve ever gotten.”

anton lets out a sigh of relief and then smiles down at you. “i’m so glad you like him, pretty.” he says softly, running a hand through your hair.

“be sure to give him lots of cuddles, okay? especially when daddy isn’t home. your bunny is gonna make sure he keeps you company if i’m gone.”

despite not wanting anton to go away again, the bunny stuffie tucked in your arm looked hopeful. “i will, daddy! i’ll make sure to give him lotsa kisses and cuddles, don’t worry!” he runs a hand through your hair once more and leans in to kiss you on the cheek. "you're so cute,"

he smiles at you, gorgeous as ever. your heart begins to race and instinctively you cover your face with your new stuffie out of shyness.

anton notices and hides his giggles behind a fake cough. "let's go nap, hm?" he says, stretching a hand out for you to hold.

[princessmixx]

꒰୨୧◞ ⤷ ❛❛ THE MIDAS TOUCH ❜❜ .ᐟ o. hw, l. jm

pairing: oh haewon x lily morrow

[ ⟡ ] ── minors do not interact ! smut, g!p haewon, rough sex, haewon’s a flirty bitch (because she is irl), super sub lily, lily’s a little whiny bitch, haely backshots, smut with just no plot, blowjob, slutty lily, etc.

a/n: okay but haewon definitely got that midas touch. i mean, how do people hate this bitch? she’s more beautiful than earth itself. ALSO, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO SKIBIDI LILYYY 😛

“Haewon, you fuck me so good!” Lily screams as she gets plowed into the floor by Haewon’s dick. She loves that dick as if it’s the last thing she needs on earth.

“You love it when mommy fucks your cunt, Lily-ah?” Haewon growls in her ear, speeding up her pace. God.. Haewon take it slow! Don’t knock up Lily yet!

Lily could only scream, moan, and gasp as Haewon pounded into her. “Y–You—Haewon—i’m gonna-!” Lily’s words cut off as she squirted on Haewon’s cock. “Slut. You came too fast.” Haewon said, giving Lily’s cute bubble ass a firm smack, making her yelp.

“Now, does the birthday girl have a present in mind for mommy?” Haewon whispers, making Lily whimper and nod. “So tell me what you want, sweetie. What does my babygirl want for her birthday present?”

“M–Mommy—please..breed me! Breed your birthday princess. I–I’ve been so good for you..” Lily begs in a shaky voice, tempting herself to not just start stroking Haewon’s cock. “You wanna be bred, hm? I can make that happen..” Haewon replied, before flipping Lily on all fours, giving her ass another smack.

“M–Mommy!!” Lily let out a shaky giggle, a sleazy grin on her face as her ass jiggled from the impact. “Sorry. It just looks too good in the air like that.” Haewon said, before putting her dick inside her, making Lily’s eyes roll back and her tongue fly out of her mouth.

It wasn’t long before Haewon started pounding into the little birthday slut, pulling her hair and biting down on her neck. Lily’s loud moans echoed through the room, as she pushed back to meet Haewon’s thrusts, her tight ass slapping against her thighs. “Mommy..! A-Are—are you close?” Lily asks between each thrust, but Haewon couldn’t for a word, only nodding.

And before Lily knew it, her insides got filled with Haewon’s cum. Oh, did she love that.. Haewon pulled out, her hand giving Lily’s asscheeks another slap each, before pulling out her phone camera.

“Smile, cutie.” Haewon said, as Lily, completely fucked out and completely tired, tried to smile with her tongue out and eyes rolled back. As soon as Haewon snapped the picture, she started giggling.

Haewon: Maybe I should show our unnies how I got to fuck the birthday girl’s cunt?

Lily: Bae will murder me, mommy. Please no.

Haewon: I’m kidding!

Lily: Okay, good!

Haewon: Happy birthday, baby.

Lily: thank you, Hae~

[eyessocurious38]

Spider-Man ATSV Thoughts (spoilers)

Okay soooo

I watched Across the Spider Verse a second time (because it’s a beautiful artistic masterpiece and I am Miguel trash honestly. )

There were so many things I wanted to analyze and look at for a theory I’m planning to post but damn every scene has sooooo much detail and we’re too fast, my brain couldn’t process fast enough lol.

At least from what I can recollect and some thoughts I had:

1. I’m definitely looking forward to analyzing that entire Gwen opening when I have the power to use the pause button. There is so MANY scenes that are layered with details (a lot of foreshadowing scenes that will take place in the film and some characters like Spot, Hobie, our queen Gwen, and Mr. O’Hater appear too.). The one that caught my eye was the Miguel (of course) part which that was interesting if it was intentional. It showed what looked like him watching Uncle Aaron’s death and that itself seems to foreshadow?? His apathy towards the Spider-Man canon deaths of Uncle Bens. And since the dude has those computers that can basically spy on every universe (or past events that have occurred and not live or current ones) it makes sense. But like how do they do that? I hope they explain more how they were able to do all this tech and stuff) I’m gonna watch it one more time with another friend next week I hope to get more details again. Otherwise imma wait until then.

2. I did noticed the different spider folks in the spider society scenes so that was cools. Didn’t have to strain my eyes too much.

3. I could hear things that I didn’t hear before when I first watched the movie. Lol. But maybe I just need subtitles.

4. Honestly idk where this came from, but now I’m kinda seeing how reckless it is for the spider parents, Jessica and Peter B, to still be doing spiderman stuff with no children safety in mind (pregnant or bringing their kid along, plot armoire I guess but stilll). Weird this feeling is coming up after the second viewing, I guess I’m just anxious if something will happen to either character(s) in the next film. They have a lot to lose and for them to risk their kids like that is kinda irresponsible imo.

5. Babygirl Miguel please your hot and brooding but stop bullying miles. They both have good points, Miguel I get he’s tryna see the bigger picture of things and is tryna redeem himself from the Shit show he caused for his variants dimension, but he’s still very traumatized and is acting like a victim of circumstance and hot tempered jerk like bro that’s a kid ur tryna fight which I hope in the next film they can go more into details, get this man a therapy appointment, maybe prove that his canon model isn’t always accurate, and reconcile. Miles I get he can save his father now that he knows and being Spider-Man means you should try to help and not accept things the way they are. This is very layered honestly it can also apply for lots of themes they express too in this film (generational trauma comes to mind). But I’m worried since they do keep showing the whole “you can’t save everyone as Spider-Man” thing and Miles wants everything, he thinks he can do it. (In the beginning of the film they show this with Miles trying to have a normal life and being Spider-Man, tho he struggles to keep a balance to it. And he’s only a couple years in, he’s still too young but I understand where his heart is at). So maybe miles isn’t gonna be entirely in the right either. But hopefully this will be expanded on more in the next film. Maybe both characters will have a slight change in their current views and see why the other is also valid.

6. Spot’s voice is so cute? Or just funny and light hearted? Almost makes me feel bad for the guy. and I could see more stuff in his flashbacks that I couldn’t recognize on the first watching because I couldn’t process what I saw. But cools. I have a bigger theory about him and his powers and how it could effect the canon model. But my brain is hella tired rn to go into it. Basically if his powers could somehow change the canon model or make divergences that won’t cause calamity’s or could cause more. But another day for that.

7. U know I wonder if Earth 42’s Rio Morales noticed that our Miles wasn’t her son right away? Like did she think her kid was going a lil crazy that night or what? Anyways another thought came to mind was Miguel’s previous situation, like if his variant family knew that he wasn’t theirs based off how he acted or habits.

8. I’m curious what they’re gonna do for part 2. How’s Earth 42 Miles and Aaron gonna act with our miles? I have a feeling they could just make him the next film’s other villain, but maybe he could have a change of heart and be Spider-Man even without the traditional powers. I guess that’s gonna depend on how he reacts, if he finds out that he was supposed to be Spider-Man but our miles took that from him (unintentionally). But he acted so careless when miles was saying our dad but to him it wasn’t HIS dad. So he might still be bad guy, ughhhhhhh I don’t wanna waittttt. I need answersss

Anyways aside from that, new movie is visually stunning, full of great layered moments, music is nice, Indian Spider-Man is my fave character and Miguel only for selfish reasons Gwen’s world is honestly the best looking, Gwen is Trans 🏳️‍⚧️, and more. Really I can’t wait for the next film!

Now onto those theory drafts.

[euphor1a]

Namjoon having a strength kink

thirst drabbles (1/∞)

fandom » bts

pairing » namjoon x f!reader

rating » 18+ (minors dni)

genre » smut, established relationship

word count » ~ 600

warnings » profanities, pet names, strength kink, overstimulation, daddy kink, size kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex, big dick!joon, lmk if i missed anything!

“Does that feel good, baby? You like that, huh?” His voice is dangerously low, causing a shiver to run down your spine. You just nod wordlessly. Splayed out on the couch, naked and under his mercy, you feel so incredibly weak. Which is not necessarily a bad thing, because you like it.

Namjoon chuckles when he notices you squirming under his iron grip. His fingers dig into the delicate flesh of your thighs, immobilizing you momentarily. “Joonie…” you whine, your cunt clenching around nothing. He quirks an eyebrow at that.

“What is it? Didn’t you just ask me to stop?”

Your body shudders, remembering the back-to-back orgasms he gave you using his adept mouth and fingers. Heat surges through your veins and your face gets warm from embarrassment. The overstimulation indeed had you wrecked a few minutes ago. But right now, you feel the deliberate urge to have him inside you. “Please,” your voice is a mewl.

Namjoon growls, leaning down to touch his forehead with yours. You close your eyes immediately.

“Please what, babygirl? You know you have to tell me clearly if you want something.”

“Wan’ your cock in me, please… Daddy.” You dare to sneak a glance at him after completing your sentence. Breath catches in your throat, his blown-out pupils looking back at you as if you’re his prey. In an instant, Namjoon stands up with you cradled in his arms. You shriek, holding onto his large arms for dear life.

“Have you ever been fucked like this, sweetheart?” His tone is mocking, a smirk playing on his lips. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, eyes wide as you understand what he’s about to do.

“But— but—” you stammer, legs tightening around his waist from the fear of falling down.

“Aw, is baby scared? Do you really think that I’ll let your cute little body hit the ground?”

Your silence irritates Namjoon, and he huffs. “I can hold you upright with just one of my hands.” To demonstrate, he lets his right hand slip away to pull at his sweatpants and underwear. You gulp nervously, gasping when his rock-hard length springs out and slaps against your thigh. “Look at me,” he murmurs against your ear, lubricating his cock with the slick wetness of your slit. You wind your arms around his neck in response. Namjoon hums appreciatively, the bulbous head of his member finding your entrance. “Ready?”

You nod, eyes focused on his face as he dives into your warmth, earning a moan from you. Overwhelmed by the sudden fullness, you rest your face on his shoulder. Small whimpers escape you as you adjust to his slow, languid thrusts.

“Fuck it.”

Suddenly, he moves his hands to grip the globes of your ass, hiking your body up before slamming it down on his length. You scream, nails digging into his shoulders. Namjoon focuses on penetrating you on his cock, soft grunts reverberating in his throat. Your cries get louder with each snap of his hips, in sync with his arms that bounce you on his girth.

“I know you’re liking this baby. I can feel your pussy squeezing my cock every fucking second. Does it turn you on that much? You enjoy being used like a rag doll, hm?”

Unable to form coherent words, you hide your face in the crook of his neck. A rough slap across your left ass cheek has you whimpering. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Daddy,” you manage to whisper. Another cry tears itself from your throat when Namjoon hits your g-spot.

“You’re so fragile, babygirl, what am I gonna do with you?”

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💌 author’s notes ꒱

thank you so much for reading!! i hope you enjoyed it 🥺! consider leaving a reblog or a comment to let me know what you think of this!! feedback through asks will be appreciated too! support your local writers 🌺✨❤️‍🩹

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[inkykeiji]

little bit of poison in me

characters: dabi | todoroki touya, takami keigo | hawks

genre: smut and angst

notes: okay FINALLY!! very loosely inspired by tag you’re it by melanie martinez!! uhh dabi’s a drug dealer, keigo’s in his third year of university and a track star, reader’s in her first year of university. please, please pay attention to the warnings below! if keigo’s your comfort character and you cannot handle him being physically abusive and a drug addict, then you might wanna sit this one out! promise he’ll be painted in a more sympathetic light in part two. | aaah dedicating this to @rat-suki​, because ur the only one who’s actually known the details of this fic since november, and because i put a lil something inspired by new moon in there for u ehehe <333 | title credit: tag you’re it by melanie martinez

warnings: 18+, noncon/dubcon, physical abuse, drug use & abuse + graphic depictions of addiction, mindbreak, overstimulation, manipulation, lowkey yandere vibes (which will get worse), daddy kink, a brother a lil too obsessed with his sister + questionably close sibling relationship, generally toxic relationships (possessiveness, jealousy), rough sex, semi-public sex, cumplay/cum feeding, minimal prep, degradation/dumbification, choking, kinda brat taming???

words: 14.8k

synopsis: 

“Do you wanna come home with Daddy, princess?”

He’s caging you between his body and the murky convenience store window as he asks, both palms pressed flat against the grimy glass.

No. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t, can almost hear your brother’s voice in the back of your mind telling you not to. But you’re too enticed in sapphire to care, drawn into pretty, almost glittering blue fire, letting the flames lick your skin as you immerse yourself in it, deeper and deeper and deeper, and allowing it to wrap itself around you, to consume you, to knock the very breath out of you as you gaze into it.

“Okay,”

It’s well past midnight, but the moon is still hanging high in the sky, illuminating the dingy shopping mall parking lot, its reflection gleaming on the wet, cracked concrete. Breathless little laughs and squeals of surprise and pleasure ring out among the vast empty space, your own voice echoing around you.

“Gonna get ya, baby,”

He’s chasing after you, legs longer than yours, faster than yours, mischievous little growls getting caught in his chest as you daintily leap away from him, just out his grasp again, the tips of his fingers grazing the soft linin of your dress.

“No!” you giggle, pushing your burning thighs to keep running just a bit longer, propelling you forward.

But he’s getting closer and closer with each pound of his boots against the pavement, encroaching on you more and more with each tiny gasp exhaled through your parted lips.

Eventually, he catches you, like he always does, large hands wrapping around your hips as strong arms pull you backwards against a solid chest. You’re both panting, chests heaving with exertion, bubbles of laughter escaping your throats.

“Tag,” he breathes, hot breath curling around the shell of your ear. “You’re it,”

His arms encircle you, holding you tightly, your own arms covering his, little fingers digging into the skin of his forearms almost possessively as he uses his strength and bodyweight to guide you towards the car—a 1959 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz that runs like shit and guzzles gas like no tomorrow. But it’s pretty, and he loves it, with all its chrome and argyle blue, glittering in the moonlight.

“You’re being bad, princess,” the words are mumbled against the skin behind your ear, and you can feel the smirk on his lips. “Good girls don’t run away from their Daddies like that,”

And he says the word with so much disdain, cruel and mocking, making you feel sick for liking it.

“Baaad girl,” he whispers, dragging the word out.

A tiny pout settles on your face, eyebrows knitting. “Am not,”

“Are too,”

“Am not,”

“You are,” he chuckles, pressing you against the damp metal of his car as you finally reach it, his body still draped over yours. “What? You gonna fight me on it?”

Squirming a little in his grasp, you turn to face him, a playful glint shining in your glassy eyes as you nudge your nose against his. “I just might!”

“Hah,” the breath of air washes over your face, scorching and sweet, a stark contrast to the humid, cool air surrounding you, causing your exposed flesh to break out into chills. “I’d like to see you try, dollface,”

“Oh, I’m sure you would,” you murmur, yelping when his fingers dig into the supple flesh of your ass through your dress, grabbing a healthy handful and squeezing in retaliation.

“Mmm,” he hums nonchalantly, pushing his forehead against yours, eyes nothing but gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of sapphire. “You gonna show me?” his rough voice fades into a whisper, unblinking eyes holding yours steadily. Calloused hands are sliding up your thighs now, slipping underneath the thin material of your dress and taking the hem with them.

“N-Not here,” you breathe, trying and failing to pull back from him, eyes widening in alarm as you feel his fingers hook in the waistband of your panties.

“Yes, here,” he responds, voice smooth as velvet as soft lips drag along your neck, sharp teeth sinking into your flesh like a hot knife slicing through butter.

Panic is beginning to rise in your chest, your throat closing up, and you choke a little on your words, shaking your head frantically. “Please, Dabi, no, we could just—”

“Wow, you really want me to bruise that pretty ass of yours,” he smirks, cutting you off and pulling back to gaze at you lazily, lips glimmering with saliva.

“No, I—”

“Especially with how much you’re saying no today,” he tuts his tongue in disapproval. “Such a bad girl; a silly, little, stupid, bad girl,”

Each word is punctuated with a sharp slap to your scantily clad ass, each bringing with them a sharp sting that you can hear, echoing out among the parking lot.

“Not bad,” you whimper, eyes shutting tightly against the familiar burn of tears. “Not bad, j-just wanna—”  

“Wanna what?” he teases, voice mocking yours as his palm collides with your ass again. “Huh?”

“W-Wanna—Want you to fuck me right,” you rush to say, the words exhaled as a singular huff of breath.

“Oh?” he pulls back slightly, eyes searching your face, his own features contorted with false concern. “Is that so?”

You nod quickly, eagerly, and he can see it in your eyes, how desperately you want him to buy your lie.

But you know he hasn’t the moment that trademark smirk returns to his face, mouth curling up at the edges as he leans forward, lips moving against your ear. “I think that’s a boldfaced lie, babygirl,” his voice is low, sinister, dangerous, traces of amusement sown into his tone. “I think it’s because you don’t want anyone to see how much of a little whore you truly are,”

“D-Dabi, please,” you whimper, vision blurry with tears as you paw at his jacket, pleading with him.

He thinks it’s so cute when you beg, his silence imploring you to continue, urgently rambling on in your quest to convince him.

“I-I want you to really fuck me; I want you to leave b-bruises all over my body, I want to feel you in my tummy, I want you t-to stuff me so full of cum that it goes to my brain and makes me stupid, please Daddy, I want—”  

Slim fingers wrap around your neck and squeeze, forcing a cry of surprise from your lips and effectively cutting you off. “I’m gonna make sure you remember those words, sweetheart,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

The thump of your own heart echoes in your ears as the Cadillac Eldorado thrums under your body, the leather sticking to the bare skin of your thighs.

“Open,” he demands, delivering a harsh slap to the thigh nearest to him, eyes never leaving the road as his foot presses down, car accelerating. Your thighs obey immediately, spreading as far as they possibly can in the cramped space, knees knocking against the door and center console box.

A rough hand, decorated with callouses and scabs, kneads the flesh once before sliding up, up, up, and then hooking in the elastic of your panties, Dabi spitting out a curse as he lets it snap back against your skin.

“Take those off,” he seethes, aggressively ripping his hand away from you as if he’s aggravated that you’re even wearing them at all. Your dress hitches up around your waist in your haste to obey, little fingers catching in the lacy material as your hips squirm, seatbelt cutting into your flesh, wiggling a little as you pull the dainty material down your legs.

He’s already holding his hand out expectantly and you press them into it, waiting for his fingers to close around the garment before taking your hand back. He feels them, rolling the fabric around in his palm, between his fingers, chuckling darkly as he chucks them over his shoulder a moment later, onto the dirty ground of the backseat.

Those were your favourite, but you know better than to say anything, forcing your expression to stay neutral, to keep your nose from wrinkling up in distaste.

“They’re wet, but not nearly wet enough,” he tsks as if he’s disappointed, hand finding your thigh again. This time, they part instantly, without any verbal prompting, hips pushing towards his palm as it skims the skin of your inner thigh.

“Now, I’m gonna play with this cute lil clit of yours,” he begins, fingers brushing the sensitive nub, words tumbling from his lips slowly, lazily, unhurried, as if you’re stupid, as if you need an ample amount of time for each word to sink in.

It makes your pussy throb, and the borderline malicious smirk that spreads across his face tells you that he felt it, too.

Speaking through his smirk, he continues in the same patronizing voice. “And you—you’re going to be Daddy’s good little girl and get nice and wet for him, so he doesn’t hurt his cock when he fucks you. Do you think you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

Yes Daddy, of course Daddy, anything for you, Daddy.

It’s torture in the most delightful way, coarse pads of his fingers just barely grazing your clit, just enough for you to feel it, just enough for you to want—no, need—more. Heat, thick and sticky, pools in the pit of your stomach, thighs straining to open impossibly wider, edges of the car’s interior digging into your knees as you desperately try to shift your hips, to press further into his touch, to evoke anything harder than these teasing, feathery touches.

Blunt nails sink into the tender flesh of your inner thigh, hard enough to make you yelp, entire body flinching from the sudden pain. “Big girls use their words,” he chastises, voice fading from a growl into a pleasant, light tone.

“Please, Daddy, I-I want more,” you whimper, hips still trying to catch your clit on his fingers, on his palm. “Touch me more,”

The hum that vibrates in his throat has your heart sinking, corners of your mouth tugging down as you blink against the sting of disappointment—you know that hum, know it all too well, know all of Dabi’s bizarre mannerisms at this point and what they mean for you. And that hum, the one that only lasts for a moment, the one that’s barely a noise at all, the one that doesn’t even sound like he’s considering anything, means no.

His eyes don’t leave the road in front of him, despite the fact that his car is going faster, and faster, and faster, whipping through the empty city streets, neon buildings and harsh florescent lights becoming nothing but a blur. And if it weren’t for the hard lump straining against the black denim of his jeans, you’d figure him disinterested; facial features relaxed, breathing normal, entirely unresponsive to the pathetic little noises he’s so effortlessly pulling from you.

It ignites a fire in your chest, blazing with the need to make him react, to make him pay attention to you.

Wearing your best pout, you arch your back a little, the action shoving your hips towards his hand again. “Daddy, Daddy,” you whine, low and needy in the back of your throat, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Please, touch me more? Please, Daddy, I want it so bad, want your cock so bad, please, help me get wetter? Wanna be dripping for you, Daddy, I wanna be soaking for you,”

“Fuck,” he breathes, smirk growing into a full grin as he glances at you from the side of his eye. “Such a brat,” he shakes his head, through the grin is still present on his face as he finally presses two fingers against the swollen bud, rubbing slow, hard circles into it. “You better be drenched for me by the time we get home, you little bitch,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

Large hands are on your body as the two of you stumble up the stairs, nimble fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, obscene sucking and slurping amplified by the stairwell, bouncing back to your own ears, saliva slicked lips slipping and sliding together messily as teeth clack together, practically tripping over each other’s feet and fucking Christ he needs you, he needs you now, his cock hurts, goddamn it.

And you’d be lying through your teeth if you said you didn’t absolutely love it when he gets like this, all clingy and needy and desperate, hushed little whines catching in the back of his throat, fading from deep, rumbling growls as rough hands paw at you.

A sharp gasp is knocked from your chest as he slams you against the wall on the landing of floor three with such force that your head ricochets off the concrete, your resounding cry silenced by Dabi’s lips, tongue invading your mouth as he swallows your beautiful little noises of pain.

You can feel his cock pressed up against your hip, hot and hard and throbbing through the denim that conceals it as he grinds against you, fervent, eager, impatient.

That panic is bubbling up in your throat again, bitter and acidic and eroding, rendering your voice weak and frail as scabbed knuckles drag across your bare thighs, inching higher and higher.

“Da-Daddy, wait,”

“No,” he growls, biting down on your shoulder hard enough to break the skin. “I’m done waiting,” hands are rucking up your dress. “You made me wait that whole fucking car ride,” sharp hipbones keep your thighs spread. “I can’t wait any longer,” the clinking of his heavy belt buckle echoes throughout the stairwell, sending chills pebbling across your skin.

And then he’s forcing himself into you, shoving his cock into your tight little hole, a choked cry bouncing off the dirty white walls as your eyes squeeze shut, tears leaking from the edges.

The stretch is magnificent, little cunt aching as it sucks in his thick cock, and you swear you can feel the burning in your belly, little pinpricks of pain shooting through your gut.

“G-Gonna tear me in half,” you wail, head falling forward, forehead bumping against his.

“Shh, baby, Daddy’s got you,” a callous laugh leaves his lips after he spits out the nickname, the singular word filled with such derision it must sting his tongue. Large hands hoist you up, and your legs immediately latch around his waist, seeking comfort in the monster that hurt you.

“Daddy, Daddy,” Tears drip down your cheeks as you bury your face in his shoulder, the word escaping your lips in tiny half-sobs catching in your throat, little fingers curling against the worn leather of his jacket.

And he can’t help but soften a little as you weep into his neck, thinks it’s so cute that you need him so bad, your little stuttered breaths hot against his neck as you cling to him, reminding him that he is the only man that can make you feel like this; he is the only man that can make you cry while simultaneously finding solace in his embrace. It makes his blood surge, sends cinders searing up his spine, gives him a high better than any other drug every could, and he finds himself hushing you gently, twitching cock buried in your cute lil cunt, snugly pressed against your cervix.

“Okay, okay,” he’s saying as his hips begin to pump, slow and languid. “Quiet, Daddy’s gonna make it feel good, alright? Daddy’s here, Daddy’s gonna make it go away,”

The sweetest, airiest little mewls of Daddy, yes, Daddy, soak into the inky skin of his neck, sandwiched between uneven hitched breaths. He’s gaining speed with each thrust, though, working up a steady rhythm that has you practically bouncing on his cock, little wails of pain fading into whimpers of pleasure. The combination is dizzying, infecting your mind with a haze that is only Dabi, surrounded by him, immersed in him—glowing sapphire and burning hickory and spicy nicotine—unable to quell the little noises spilling from your throat, each one louder than the next with each bump against your cervix and drag against that spot.  

“That feel better, princess?” he breathes out, pausing just to readjust his grip on your ass—to angle your hips just right, chuckling at your selfish, needy whine—and then he’s drilling his cock into you, head pounding against the spot that has his name escaping your lips in high pitched squeals that break in your throat, heavy belt buckle clanking against the wall with each of his thrusts.

It sends sparks of mind-numbing pleasure burning through your abdomen, your chest, straight to your very core and collecting there, each spark adding to the growing fire that’s beginning to blaze, followed by intense spears of pain, slicing through your gut and down the muscles of your thighs, legs beginning to quiver as ankles hook tighter, tighter, tighter, the heels of your sneakers digging into his back dimples, trying to get him closer, closer, closer, desperately begging for more, more, more.

Yet it’s all so much, too much, please, Daddy—the harsh sound of metal colliding with concrete mingling with your pathetic whines and his panted breaths, rough whimpers catching deep in his chest, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard a more beautiful sound.

“C’mon, babygirl,” he gasps, pace never slowing, never faltering once, even though there’s glistening dewdrops of sweat decorating his hairline, inky strands beginning to stick to the skin of his forehead. “Be a good girl and cum for Daddy, cum before someone catches you being such a sweet little—God, Christ—a sweet little slut for me,”

And your cunt submits, would never dare to disobey a direct command from its master, from its owner, clenching around him as you cream all over his cock, a sharp cry ripping up your throat as your nails scrabble against leather clad shoulders.

A growl rumbles, deep and dark and dangerous in his chest, as his hips piston a few more times before they still, tips of his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, branding his name in tiny blotches of navy and violet as his cock throbs, coating your insides with spurts of thick cum.

Head falling forward, his forehead collides with yours, chests heaving and breathing laboured. And he can’t help the little chuckle he huffs out as you wiggle your hips a little, eyes still closed as you rock in little motions against him, clit catching on his pubic bone.

Needy little bitch.

But he isn’t nearly done with you yet, because that desire, thick and sticky in the very pit of his stomach, only wants more, insatiable and voracious, desperate for more of your whines, more of your tears, more of your cunt.

You’re gonna make good on all those words you spewed in the parking lot, baby, he’s nearly snarling at you, cutting off your whiny complaints as he drags you up the final flight of stairs, stopping halfway to haul you over his shoulder with a huff and a deft slap to your ass, carrying you the rest of the way to his apartment.

“Dress, off. Now.” He orders as he throws you onto his mattress, pulling his shirt over his head, belt buckle jingling as he walks, still hanging undone.

And then he’s crawling over your naked body, lips attacking yours, smashing and smacking and slurping, a large hand wrapping around your wrists as he shoves his tongue into your mouth, laving over yours in slow, deliberate drags, pinning your wrists against the cold cracked drywall behind his nearly bare, minimalistic bed, squeezing hard enough to grind the bones together between a singular rough palm—a silent warning—and forcing a yelp from your throat into his.

“Don’t move them,” his lips mumble the command against yours before he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, between sharp gleaming teeth that bite down hard, sinking into the soft flesh and refusing to release until he tastes copper, the tip of his tongue tracing the harsh indents left behind, licking at your lip once more before pulling away completely.

“I want you to leave bruises all over my body!” he mimics, voice absurdly high as lips skim the curve of your neck, tongue darting out to trace along your collarbones. “Isn’t that what you said, baby?”

But you can’t answer, too busy sucking on your now swollen lip, trying to soothe the incessant throbbing as metal stains your tongue. That’s disrespectful, you think you hear him growl into your unmarred skin before something sharp pierces your nipple, clamping down around it and tugging. A resounding cry tears through your throat as your body instinctually bows off the bed, pressing further into him, a muffled snicker vibrating against your chest before his tongue flicks, licks, slobbers, thick strings of saliva glimmering in the dim light as he pulls away, breaking and slapping against his chin.

“Answer me next time I ask you a fucking question,” The words are spit so harshly they slice into your skin, head nodding fervently before he’s even finished speaking, blinking the bleariness from your eyes. Smoldering sapphire holds your gaze for a moment, burning into your very soul—digging, prying, searching, scrutinizing, his breathing slow, calm, controlled with each deep rise and fall of his bare chest.

You aren’t sure what it is he’s looking for as he peers into the depths of your eyes, but you don’t dare let your gaze stray from his, don’t dare blink, don’t dare breathe until he breaks the spell, blinking once as his lips curl up into a wicked smirk.

“I’m gonna turn your body into a work of art,” he promises you, voice low and guttural, forcing thorns of ice up your spine as lips drag across your jaw.

And he does, paints little galaxies across your skin with his tongue and his lips, asymmetrical blotches of blues and greys and purples, ivory bones scraping against your flesh, signing his name into his masterpiece in deep, dark indents of crimson and violet.

It aches and it pulses and it stings, glittery trails of salt water staining your cheeks, tiny shimmering droplets clinging to your clumped, spiky lashes, adding the finishing touches on the greatest piece he’s ever created.

And it’s so pretty, you’re so pretty when you’re like this, baby, covered in navy and plum and carmine, and, fuck, it’s a shame you won’t stay like this.  

It seems he’s in a trance for a moment, in awe of his craftsmanship, of what he’s produced, breathing laboured as shining azure eyes drift over your body, slowly, purposefully, as if he’s memorizing every single nick, bite, scrape, bruise, burning the image into his brain forever.

His gaze floats back up to yours, holding it for a moment, pupils big and gaping and swallowing you whole—before something snaps, breaks, and he comes back to himself, remembers why he did it.

Narrowing slightly, his eyes darken, that sadistic smirk returning to his lips. And then he’s shoving his cock into you again, hard and leaking and the prettiest red you’ve ever seen, cute little cunt stretching around him for the second time tonight.

But little girls who act like brats deserve to get fucked like brats, he tells you in a snarl, slender fingers collaring your neck and squeezing slowly, slowly, slowly, crushing the column of your throat.

Everything’s beginning to grow hazy, vision sliding in and out of focus as those calloused hands continue to tighten, and tighten, and tighten. He looks like some sort of sick angel as he looms above you, nothing more than a shadow of sharp edges and smooth curves, inky spikes and glowing sapphire, haloed by the weak neon light that spills in through grimy windows. Jutting bones prod the soft flesh of your inner thighs, carving out a space just for them as his hips snap viciously, relentlessly, obstinately.

And it’s all overwhelming, overstimulating on every front, uncontrollable tears streaming from your eyes as you choke roughly on your own sobs, each one being forced from your chest by your Daddy’s harsh thrusts, only to get caught on the palm pressed to your airway, ears ringing from the slap of skin against skin overlapping those harsh words spit at you in his falsely saccharine voice.  

Aw, no, baby, wispy words caressing your cheek as they float by, eyes starting to roll back in your head. Don’t pass out on me, dollface. I want you awake when I fill your cunt with cum.

The pressure around your throat lets up just a hint, and you wheeze in air, a rush of cold flooding your body. You can feel it, that contrasting, familiar heat scorching the pit of your stomach, beginning to curl in on itself more, and more, and more with each pump of his hips, until it explodes, your body arching off the mattress, unintentionally pressing into the hand adorning your neck, restricting your air entirely.

The chuckle that leaves his lips as you choke yourself is dark, would send spears of ice slicing through your veins if you weren’t otherwise focused on trying to fill your lungs with air. Nothing leaves your mouth other than a few choked whines, barely more than a huff of light breath.

But his hips don’t slow, and he’s glaring down at you with parted lips and lidded eyes, pupils gaping, so large you’re unable to detect even the slightest hint of blue outlining them—nothing but big black orbs, absorbing everything in their vision, sucking everything from you, every hitched sob and soft whine and gorgeous wince, each time he pounds against your cervix.

And it’s how your looking up at him—with those gleaming, adoring eyes and that blissful, fucked out grin—that has him cumming with a shuddered f-fuck, forcing his eyes to stay open as he pumps you full of thick cum, desperate to catalogue every little expression that crosses your face, the way your eyes flutter slightly, the way your neck arches, the tiniest little moan slipping through chapped lips as his cock pulses inside of you.

You must pass out for a second, Dabi’s calloused palm lightly tapping against your cheek as he murmurs to you in that sinful, silky voice, sugared sentiments twining around your exhausted body.

Wake up, princess. Daddy isn’t done playing with you yet.

Words tumble past your lips in a mumble, though you aren’t quite sure what you’re saying—everything feels hazy, like you’re gazing through a thin cloud of smoke, and despite the fact that you can barely move, your body feels light, almost floaty in a way, entirely numb to the immense pain it has endured thus far.

Two fingers, coated in thick, gleaming cream, are thrust into your gasping mouth, tongue met with the salty, bitter taste of his cum. You cough around the sudden intrusion, immediately obey when he orders you to clean, sluggish tongue sliding up and lapping at and slipping between them, sucking the digits free of cum.

Good girl, he leans away and your heart flutters weakly at the praise, saliva slicked fingers dipping into your hole again to gather more.

“C’mon,” he breathes as he brings his fingers to your mouth again, sticky viscous glops collected on his fingers. They catch in the dim light streaming through the window, a unique mixture of pale moonbeams and hazy neon, cum almost glittering, almost pretty. “You wanted me so bad, didn’t you?” your head’s moving—nodding, you think, you can’t really tell, breathing shallow as your eyes belatedly follow his glistening fingers—and he smirks down at you. “Then eat my fucking cum,”

Lips part instantly, mouth falling open as your tongue lolls out, eyes drifting up to his and pleading mutely, begging for the substance—the very essence of him—and nearly moaning when he drags his fingers across the saliva coated muscle, curling and sucking his digits back into the heat of your mouth.

And he’s fucking high off of it all, pupils blown to hell, outlined by the thinnest ring of cobalt, barely detectable, visible only when it catches in the moonlight.

A lumpy pile of denim sits abandoned and bunched up near the end of the bed—he must’ve kicked his pants off at some point, though you don’t remember when—and his cock’s hard again, head brushing your inner thigh. It’s hard for you to tear your gaze from it, fleeting thoughts of stamina and impressive grazing through your mind, turning to smoke the moment you try to latch onto them.

He notices, of course—you’ve been staring at it for nearly a minute now, glazed eyes unblinking, soft little pants passing through barely parted lips. But it’s the way you’re staring at it—in the purest, unadulterated form of desire—that makes it jump, twitching a little against your thigh. You think you hear your Daddy breathe out a curse, think his rough fingers brush some hair back from your drenched forehead, think he says something along the lines of how much he fucking loves you, but in your dreamlike state, you can’t be sure.

Because then rough hands are on you, manhandling you as whatever trance he had fallen into yet again snaps once more.

“We’re gonna put that pretty, empty head of yours to good use!” he’s saying almost enthusiastically as he hoists your boneless body up, propping you up against his chest and securing you with a strong arm wrapped around your waist. “Whaddya think about that, hmm, princess? Want Daddy to use your little skull as his own personal cumdump? Huh?” lithe fingers squeeze your cheeks so hard your lips pucker up, a high-pitched whine getting caught in your throat. “That’s all it’s good for anyway, isn’t it?”

You try to nod, but all your head wants to do is flop back against his shoulder.

“Oh baby,” he cooks mockingly, jutting his inky bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “I thought that was what you wanted?”

“T’is!” you mumble through his grip, drool beginning to collect in the corners of your scrunched mouth, dribbling down your chin. Gazing at him through the corner of your watery eyes, your resolve hardens, doing your best to hold your exhausted body up on your own, expression steeling as you force your woozy head to nod as best you can in his bruising grasp.

“Yeah?” he breathes, mouth curving into a dangerous smirk before his lips are at your ear, voice dropping an octave lower. “You’re fucking stubborn, y’know that? Stubborn little brat, just like your bullheaded brute of a brother,”

And then he’s pushing you down, shoving your head into the mattress and pulling your hips up, a hiss spit through your teeth as he purposefully presses into the fresh bruises.

Your poor little pussy aches, fucked open and raw by his cock, but you are stubborn—you can’t help it, it runs in your blood—exhilarated by the challenge and pushing your hips back weakly towards him.

Your Daddy chuckles behind you, but it’s one of those annoyed chuckles, one of those disbelieving chuckles, one of those chuckles that consists of an audacious smirk, quick short nodding that’s more to himself than anyone else, and a tongue running along his top teeth, sucking on the bones, before it fades from his face completely, replaced with scorn in an instant, eyes cold and jaw clenched as he delivers a harsh backhand to your ass.

Then his body’s blanketing yours, chest hot and heavy against your back, lips moving against the shell of your ear.

“Oh, you really want me to break you, don’t you?”

No, truly, you don’t, but you grit your teeth, eyes shut tightly against the sting of a fresh wave of tears, trying to stop your head from involuntarily shaking no.

He laughs again, this time mean and sharp and full of malice, as he straightens up, lining his cock up with your hole.

“Nah, nah,” he’s saying as he pushes in, and God, it still hurts, it still stretches you, reopening little sutures created in the stairwell. “I think you do—Actually, I know you do. And Daddy knows best, right?”

Yes, of course, Daddy knows best, Daddy always knows best.

And it burns, that relentless snap of his hips, driving his cock into you with deep growls and grunts, with such force that it’s jostling you up the mattress, little hands planting themselves in a pitiful attempt to press back against him, to keep yourself in one place. Every muscle in your arms screams at the effort, stiff and rigid from being held, kept, still and obedient against the wall for an extended period of time.

The dreaminess has faded again, leaving behind a dull haze, and it all just hurts. It seems to come in bouts, inexplicable waves of numbness and pain, alternating sporadically and sprinkled with spikes of intense pleasure, a potent mix of chemicals swirling in your brain, lust and desire and terror and anguish burning through your veins.

You’re sobbing into the mattress now, fingers curling tightly in his soft black sheets as your bleary vision begins to darken at the edges, mumbling out something almost in a chant—his name, you think, though you’re not sure, it all sounds muffled to your ringing ears—vibrations of your voice getting caught in your throat, hitching with your sobs and the rough piston of his hips.

It’s building again, licks of fire scalding hot against the walls of your stomach, the temperature rising with each drag of his cock against that spot, until you’re sure the flames are going to engulf you from the inside out.

Little squeaks, poor imitations of moans, escape your lips, interspersed with your pathetic wails. He’s speaking once more—you can feel it, his chest reverberating against yours, lips moving against your ear again. Something rumbles, rattles, deep and dark and dangerous at the very core of his body, and then he’s tangling a hand in your hair and tugging, hauling you up, a choked cry slipping from your lips.

It pulls you from unconsciousness’s grasp, just for a moment, clears the mist from your mind as he snarls against your ear, taking the cartilage between his teeth and biting down, hard.

“Thought I told you to answer me the next time I ask you a fucking question,” he breathes, and he almost sounds gleeful, contradicting his voice, so rough, so hoarse, so hot.

You did, Daddy, you did, you’re trying to say, trying to nod in the vice grip he has on your strands, the words jumbled and muddled and near incomprehensible, wet and messy and coated in spit.

“But I guess my—Christ—my cock makes you too stupid to do that, huh?” he’s panting now, in time with his thrusts, huffs of breath sweltering against your already sticky skin. “What would your goody-two-shoes brother say if he could see you, hmm? If he could see how fucking dumb his little slut of a baby sister goes from my cum,”

It’s too much, too much, Daddy, too much, the brutal pounding of his cockhead against your swollen cervix and the continuous stream of strained, husky, filthy words he’s spewing in your ear and the sting in your scalp and that spot, that spot, that spot—

It hits you so hard it’s painful, knocks what little breath you had right out of you as your entire body convulses on his cock, little cunt clenching and gushing as you weep Da-Daddy! over and over and over, the only word your soupy brain is capable of conceiving, body going pliant in his arms as your head lolls back against his shoulder, struggling to keep your eyes open while he continues to drive his cock into you, hard and fast and messy.

He cums with the prettiest broken whine you’ve ever heard—or at least, you think he does, entire body gone numb once again, think you feel his hips juddering and his cock pulsing, think you feel that familiar, thick substance filling you to the brim. Everything is still for a moment, his chest heaving against your arched back, and then he laughs malevolently, though it sounds far away, even though you can feel the sound vibrating against you.

“That ought’a teach you to say no to me again,” he spits harshly in your ear, giving one more hard yank on your hair before letting go completely, your abused body collapsing in a heap on his mattress.

It feels like you’re more Dabi than yourself now, with his name written all over your body, signed by his mouth, his teeth, his fingers, and his cum leaking out of you, drying hard and sticky on your thighs, his scent being all you can smell, all you can taste, heady and fiery. And as you crawl into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness—finally, finally—you think about just how much can change, and how fast it does, in a mere 92 days.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

Three months earlier

The air is hazy with thick smoke, heavy enough to dilute the already dim yellow light shining from the bare lightbulbs overhead. The stench of cheap beer, weed and sweat stings your nose, and it wrinkles reflexively.

You aren’t supposed to be here.

Throbbing music radiates through the house, causing the structure to tremble in time with the beat, the dirty drywall you’re currently pressed up against quivering in response. It’s so loud it hurts, vibrating through the warped linoleum floors and through your body. It makes you shiver in disgust, as if it’s some sort of parasite worming it’s way through your veins in timed intervals.

Your brother would kill you if he knew.

You’ve been backed into a corner—literally, surrounded by three college boys you’ve never seen before as they drunkenly leer at you. They’re a year or two older than you, glassy half-lidded eyes scanning your body in a way that makes you feel filthy, in a way that makes you want to scrub your skin raw to rid it of their slimy gazes.

They’re mumbling out something, speaking amongst themselves in low voices, peppered with raspy snickers that make your skin crawl. Pressing further into the corner, you quickly wrack your mind for something—anything—that will get them to part just a little, that’ll crack the wall of bodies you’re now surrounded by just enough for you to barrel through. Adrenaline begins to surge through your veins as you gear up, drawing in a deep breath, and—

“Whadda we have here?”

The men part immediately at the sound of that low voice, smooth as melted chocolate, revealing a figure with spiky onyx hair, an involuntary gasp escaping your lips the moment your eyes collide with sapphire.

“Ah, I thought it was you,” he smirks, peering down at you with a gaze so intense it feels like your body’s been set aflame. “What’s a good little girl like you doing in a place like this, hmm?”

Dabi.

This wasn’t the first time you had seen him, remembering the man with the pretty cobalt eyes and inky hair standing under a singular flickering lamp post outside of the tiny house you and your brother share, or lingering on the threshold of the front door, eyes lazily darting around the space as he waits.

He never comes inside. Your brother doesn’t allow it.

You’ve barely spoken any words to him, always responding to his polite greetings with shy nods or little waves.

But this is the first time you’re meeting him properly.

Feet bolted to the floor, you try to respond, only able to emit a pathetic little squeak.

He huffs out a condescending chuckle, gazing down the bridge of his nose at you, head tilted up just a touch, lidded crystal eyes glittering in the dim light. That trademark smirk spreads into something darker, something almost ominous in nature, something that whispers in your ear that it knows something you don’t, sending sharp spikes of ice shooting up your spine.

“Does your brother know you’re here?”

You shake your head quickly, eyes widening in panic as anxiety begins to rise in your throat. He isn’t about to rat you out, is he?

“Thought so. Dunno why I asked,” he heaves a heavy sigh, chest rising with the force of it, as if he’s extremely exasperated, as if you’re some sort of child lost at a supermarket and he’s bringing you back to your parents. “Alright, let’s go,”

A hand extends, hanging limp in the smoky air for a moment, waiting, before Dabi sighs again with a roll of his eyes, latching onto your wrist and all but dragging you out of the corner, maneuvering through the mass of sweaty bodies crowding the dingy living room.

“We’re leaving?” you ask dumbly as Dabi approaches the back door, hand still wrapped in a firm grasp around your arm.

“Yep. My work here is done, and you,” he tuts his tongue with a slow shake of his head, hidden smile on his face. “Your work here is done, too,”

“W-Where are we going?” you ask as the two of you stumble outside, shivering a little as the cool, fresh air hits your heated skin.

“No idea. Away from this place,” he looks back at your briefly, giving your wrist a soft squeeze before dropping it. “You tryna put your brother in an early grave or somethin’?”

A frown tugs at the corners of your lips as you shake your head again. “No, I just—”

“You shouldn’t have been there,” his words echo your thoughts from before. “You were in some real danger for a second, y’know that?”

“I-I know. Thank you for, uh, s-saving me, Sir,”

“Sir?” his eyes are bright with mirth, shining despite the weak light provided by the waxing moon. The smirk returns, and you feel it again—like he’s plotting something, like he’s got some big secret he’s hiding, a plan, something up his sleeve. “Sir is nice, but I think there’s another name you’d rather call me,”

Eyebrows knit in confusion, your eyes drift to the ground, mulling over his words. Something else you’d rather call him? Like what? You’ve only seen the guy a few—

“Still have no idea why you haven’t fucked him yet,” one of your friends muses as Dabi’s exiting his car, eyes watching him lazily from where you’re both seated on the front lawn.

“Keigo would murder me, literally,” you giggle a little, glancing over at the man with inky hair before looking away again, down at your lap as little fingers thread through the grass beneath you and shaking your head.

“Shame,” she sighs, twirling her sticky pink lollipop idly, the candy catching in the sun. “He’s Daddy as hell,”

A sharp gasp leaves your parted lips, eyes snapping back to her face and holding them for a moment before the two of you burst into a fit of giggles, your fingers tapping her bare knee in a silent warning that he’s approaching.

Heavy black boots collide with the front stone path, buckles jingling daintily, his head perking up in a catlike manner, trademark smirk forming on his lips as you both urgently try to calm your laughter.

“Ladies,” he nods with a wink as he passes, little giggles cutting off instantaneously, the two of you mumbling shy greetings in response.

That was the only time you had ever spoken to him, until now.

“Oh my God,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment. He did hear.

He chuckles slightly, dropping the subject with a shake of his head.

“So. Where to?” he asks expectantly, feet slowing to a stop on the cracked sidewalk as he taps out a cigarette. He whips a silver Zippo open, sharp twinge of metal swiping against metal cutting though the silent nighttime air. “Home?”

A shrill bubble of incredulous laughter escapes your throat. Dabi glances over at you, amused, raising an eyebrow in question as he cups the flame and brings it to his lips.

“Do you want to put my brother in an early grave?” you snort.

“I could just walk you to the street, you know,” he rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face. “Precious niisan wouldn’t even need to see me,”

You shake your head, idly kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe as you begin walking again. The campus is beginning to bleed into the city now, engulfing the two of you in familiar florescent light. “No, I can’t go home,”

“Why?”

“I…” you trail off, heat flooding your cheeks. “I, um, told him I’d be staying at a friend’s place tonight,”

Dabi gasps mockingly. “Baby, you lied to your niisan?”

Knocking your shoulder against his arm, you scoff, trying to hide the stupid smile the nickname conjures. “Oh, shut up,”

“Getting bold now, I see,” he hums to himself. “Could’a swore just a few minutes ago you were scared of me,”

“N-Not scared, just—uh, just surprised, that’s all,”

“Uh-huh, sure. Tell me again why you can’t just go to this friend’s house?”

“Well, she’s—she’s, like, y’know—” you shrug as a form of explanation, deflating a little at his unimpressed stare as he blows smoke out his nose. “She’s going home with some guy,” you mumble. “A-And I was supposed to too, but…”

Dabi tsks, shaking his head in false sympathy. “Sweetheart, you’re a teenage movie cliché,”

“Shut up,”

“You tell me to shut up one more time and I’m gonna have to do something about it,” he singsongs, a thinly veiled threat coated in sugar. Swallowing thickly, you glance up at him, blinking twice. His eyes tell you that he’s not fucking around, despite the relaxed features of his face, smile easygoing and gaze lidded.

“S-Sorry,” you murmur, looking away.

“Don’t you know? Good little girls don’t speak like that to Daddy,”

He spits the word out, almost patronizing in his tone, but that fails to stop the way your stomach flutters when it falls from his lips, fails to prevent the choked little gasp that escapes yours. He laughs loudly, your cheeks burning with shame.

Sapphire eyes glint in the pale moonlight, as if he’s just discovered the most valuable treasure, as if he’s just been given the key to the universe—a predator who’s just ensnared it’s prey, and the smirk that slowly etches itself across his face is nothing short of sinister.

“Do you wanna come home with Daddy, princess?”

He’s caging you between his body and the murky convenience store window as he asks, both palms pressed flat against the grimy glass.

“Hmm?”

No. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t, can almost hear your brother’s voice in the back of your mind telling you not to, but you’re too enticed in sapphire to care, drawn into pretty, almost glittering blue fire, letting the flames lick your skin as you immerse yourself in it, deeper and deeper and deeper, allowing it to wrap itself around you, to consume you, to knock the very breath out of you as you gaze into it.

“Okay,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

He only has one bed and no couch, he informs you as he leads you up four flights of stairs, explaining that the elevator’s been broken for a few months now, panting out the words just a little.

A soft giggle slips from your lips, amplified by the empty stairwell and echoing off the concrete walls, and Dabi looks back at you, amused.

“Something funny, princess?”

And although there’s a friendly grin on his face and mirth in his eyes, something in his voice makes you tremble, shoots scorching sparks up your spine and sends them rushing through your veins, and your laughter immediately cuts off.

“No,” you say simply, shaking your head and hoping that he didn’t catch the full body shiver that coursed through your figure just a second ago, all thanks to his voice. “Just laughing at the absurdity of it, s’all,”

“Ah,” he says sagely, nodding once. “Well, here we are,”

A tattooed hand gestures vaguely to a white door with a large, black 4 painted on it, the paint beginning to chip away, worn down and faded in some spots.

Dabi’s apartment is small, but you like it. He’s surprised, he tells you, expected someone like you—someone brought up with luxury, someone who’s never had to ask for or want anything in their life, because they always already had it—would hate it.

“Or maybe, that’s exactly why you like it,”

It’s a little snarky, the way those words flow out of his mouth, biting your cheek as they pass, and you wince a little.

“I think it’s homey,” you say quietly, tiny voice raw and honest, deciding to omit the fact that you’ve never really had a space that felt homey yourself. “It’s very you. I really do like it.”

His eyes soften at your gentle confession, features relaxing a little as calloused fingers tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then, I’m glad,”

For a moment, you’re positive he’s going to kiss you, staring down at you so intently with that look in his eyes as they slowly sweep across your face. But he turns on his heel a moment later, stalking into the tiny bachelor and beckoning for you to follow with a wave of his hand, flicking on a lamp as he passes.

“You hungry?” he’s asking as he walks. “I know this kickass noodle place that delivers 24/7,” he collapses on his bed, outfitted in black sheets, looking up at you expectantly when you stop hesitantly a few feet away. “You should probably eat something,” he continues, pushing himself up on his elbows, legs dangling off the end of the mattress. “Especially if there’s still alcohol in your—”

“Oh no, I don’t drink,” you cut him off without thinking, the words etched into your permanent vocabulary, sitting down next to him, just a hint too close.

“No, no, of course you don’t,” he says with a laugh and a shake of his head, sitting up fully. “Let me guess; niisan doesn’t allow it,”

A frown forms on your lips, brows knitting together. “Well I—”

“Ah! Stop,” he cuts you off with a disinterested wave and a roll of his eyes. “I’ve heard enough,”

Normally, you’d scoff at someone speaking to you so rudely. But with Dabi, with Dabi, it’s different. A little giggle escapes your lips without your permission, the bubbly noise surprising you, and Dabi chuckles in response, a genuine grin spreading across his face, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“So. Food?”

The takeout arrives at 1:56am, Dabi bringing the bag full of noodles and other appetizers—too much food for only two people, if you’re being honest—back to his bed, placing it in front of you and then crawling onto the mattress, sitting cross-legged.

The action surprises you—he doesn’t have a table, but you had been expecting him to bring the food to the small breakfast bar, complete with two mismatched stools, not his bed.

Old Hammer Horror films flicker on the TV as the two of you pick through the food together, Styrofoam containers littering the bedspread. And it’s…fun—it’s the most fun you’ve had in a long time, a strange, unfamiliar giddiness fizzing in your tummy every time you make him laugh, every time his eye catches yours, every time he shoves your knee and calls you dollface, despite the deep, honey-coated voice echoing in your head telling you that you shouldn’t be doing this and he’s dangerous.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

“Bedtime,” Dabi says simply as he returns from the little kitchenette after storing the leftover takeout in the fridge, using a hand to tug at the back of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

“Wha—”

The material hits you square in the face and an involuntary, entirely unsolicited giggle bubbles past your lips, pulling the garment from your head.

“Pajamas,” he nods at the fabric now bunched in your hands, but you can’t seem to find your voice to respond.

Teeth bite into your tongue hard enough to make you wince in an effort to keep a gasp within your chest when he comes into view. He’s lean—toner than you expected, muscles gliding smoothly under his skin as he moves—and you’re unsurprised to find his chest and back decorated with vibrant, intricate tattoos.

Of course, you knew Dabi had tattoos—they’re on his face, his neck, his collarbone, disappearing under the neckline of his shirt and resurfacing under his short sleeves, curling around his arms, brilliant flowing ink telling stories across his skin. They’re beautiful—they’re mesmerizing, inquisitive eyes slowly roaming the expanse of his chest.

But you had never noticed the soft, slightly puckered skin they hid. Scars, your mind provides dimly.

“Do you want to touch them?”

The rumble of his deep voice snaps you out of your revere, heat flooding your cheeks when you realize you were staring. There’s a playful lilt to his voice, and you can’t quite tell if his offer is serious or not, your eyes floating up to his.

“Here,” he chuckles a little as he sits down, offering you his forearm, flipping it over and resting it on the bed.

He lets you trace every single one. He won’t tell you where or how he got the scars, and you don’t push, even as curiosity erodes your chest. It’s impolite to pry, Keigo’s voice echoes through your mind, and you nod once to yourself.

You don’t have sex that night. He doesn’t force you. You nearly tell him that you’re surprised, what, a man of his stature, of his reputation, has a pretty girl in his bed and he doesn’t fuck her?, petty retaliation for what he had said to you when you entered the apartment hours ago, but you chicken out at the last minute. You’d soon come to find that some things are better left unsaid.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

Spring has just arrived, bringing with it cool, gentle breezes and swaying blades of grass decorated with glistening dewdrops that sparkle when the sun catches them in just the right way. The smell of freshly battered cinnamon sugar donuts and cheap coffee wafts in through the open window, drifting over your bodies and embracing you.

It rouses you, and your eyes flutter open to be met with Dabi’s face. And, God, he’s so damn pretty, with thick dark eyelashes fanned out delicately across inked skin and tousled onyx hair, breathing deep and calm, sharp jaw on display. Reaching out, you daintily trace over his relaxed features—circling defined cheekbones, sliding down the slope of his nose, trailing along his jaw—allowing yourself a moment to admire him before thick guilt begins to strangle you.

You should go. Keigo still thinks that you’re at a friend’s house, and doesn’t expect you to be home until late afternoon, but that belated bitter guilt finally brands the back of your tongue, face souring a little at the idea of deceiving your big brother. And after all he’s done for you, niisan tsks in your head, voice sweet and syrupy, and you can almost see the disappointment in his eyes as he shakes his head. We’re all each other has, you know. And you do, really, you do know, head nodding routinely, instinctual at this point, as you begin to push yourself up.

“Stay,” Dabi says softly, eyes still closed as a hand catches your wrist. You stop immediately, allowing him to pull you back down to the mattress as lids lift to reveal the most brilliant sapphires. Fingers trace down the curve of your neck and you hum, arching into his touch.

“Keigo—”

“Doesn’t have to know,” he cuts you off, his voice still quiet, rough around the edges and heavy with sleep. “C’mon. We’ll go get pie for breakfast, and I’ll have you home to niisan by dinner, promise,”

Giggling a little, you roll into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and pull you atop his chest as he flops onto his back.

“Pie,” you laugh, resting your chin on his toned muscles and gazing up at him. “For breakfast?”

“Why not?” He asks, and that smile is back again, the boyish one that looks like he’s hiding something, a little amusing secret just for him, the one that induces a whole flock of butterflies in your chest. “It’s Saturday,” he shrugs as best he can, then squeezes you to his chest. “You don’t got anything to do, I don’t got anything to do...”

Crystal eyes glitter in the morning sun as they gaze at you, golden rays creeping through the small gaps in his thick purple curtains, swaying gently in the wind.

Molars sink into the inside flesh of your cheek as you think, and Dabi tuts his tongue softly, a hand coming to gently pull the skin from between your teeth.

“Okay,”

His lips curl into a smirk, something sharp flashing in his cobalt eyes. “Okay,”

That’s how it begins—with deceptively bright, youthful smiles and cherry pie for breakfast— and five days later, in the backseat of his Cadillac Eldorado while James Cagney flickers on a worn out, off-white screen and two of his fingers are three knuckles deep in you, he asks you to be his, digits curling in your pretty little pussy as he breathes the words against the shell of your ear.

You’re whimpering out yes as you cum, nodding almost frantically against his shoulder as your hips roll towards his palm.

That’s it, that’s his good girl.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

But it progresses faster than you ever thought it would—faster than you ever thought possible—like a shot of morphine straight to your bloodstream, pupils gaping as DabiDabiDabi surges through your veins, becoming all you can think about—all you want to think about, all you want to do, eat, feel, breathe.

Midnight double-features of old Hollywood films at the local rundown drive-in become one of the many staples of your relationship, finding comfort in the sharp smell of buttersalt popcorn stinging your nose, in the way the film’s sound cracks and pops as it travels through the car radio, staticky like an old record, in the way Dabi forces a cherry Jolly Rancher from his mouth into yours, the hard candy clacking against your teeth.

This is how you spend most of your weeknights for the next month or so—passing candy through kisses in the backseat of the Eldorado, tongues shoved down each other’s throats, stained red and purple and blue from the cheap artificial dye, hands wandering up dresses and little fingers tugging at beltloops and buckles.

On Saturday mornings—sometimes Sundays, too, if you’ve been a really good girl—you find yourself in a familiar red booth at The League—a little diner tucked away on one of the city side streets not too far from Dabi’s apartment—cheap speckled plastic glittering in the sunlight and sticking to your thighs as your favourite waitress, a young woman by the name of Himiko who insists that you call her Mimi, takes your order. She seems to know your Daddy—your Dabi—somehow, but you don’t press, because it’s impolite to pry, you know and niisan raised you better than this.

He always lets you pick what you want for breakfast, but Daddy always orders it for you, always reminds you the mornings you decide on pancakes that if you get those, you aren’t allowed any sundaes or a slice of pie, because too much sugar is bad for his babygirl, and he knows how much syrup you drown those things in, dollface.

But there’s one staple of your relationship that you love more than all the others.

Joyrides.

That’s what he calls them, those drives through the bad parts of the city, the parts with cracked concrete sidewalks and shattered glass and needles littered in the dying grass.

Dabi takes you along frequently, tells you that you have an important job to do, that you play a crucial role in this whole operation, because the police—including your father—have been cracking down especially hard on dealing in this area. But nobody bothers to question a seemingly innocent young woman delivering inconspicuous brown paper bags—bags full of pretty little pills and tiny baggies of white powder—to shop owners and crumbling apartment complexes, eerily reminiscent of a Girl Scout selling cream filled cookies and thin-mints.

Keigo would kill you, if he knew.

It’s an instantaneous rush, though, being allowed to participate in Dabi’s business ventures, being allowed to help. It’s a privilege, you think, makes you feel like he trusts you, and you absolutely live for the praise, for that gorgeous smile he gives you after you deliver the sweets to the client, for the passionate kisses he rewards you with for being such a good little helper.

Joyrides are the best. Because it’s just you and him, the Eldorado’s radio struggling to play whatever station it’s picking up on—usually some sort of sixties rock—as you cruise the streets in his absurdly large car, the sky smeared with strokes of faded pinks and oranges, peppered with wispy clouds that look like loose strands of white cotton candy.

And sometimes, after his work is all finished, he’ll drive you to one of those cliffs you’ve come to know so well and let you ride him in the drivers seat—precious little whines and pathetic broken whimpers spilling from your lips as you rest your head against his shoulder, gyrating your hips in fast, shallow little circles, using his cock like it’s a toy, just like he told you to—before taking you back home to fuck you properly, to fuck you right.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

It’s quaint, the little house you and your niisan live in, with its perfectly trimmed hedges and well-manicured grass, a stone walkway leading up to the front door, which is painted white. White windowsills, white brick, white, white, white, the whole thing is white—bright, pure, untarnished.

It’s just enough space for the two of you, your adoptive father, an absurdly large man by the name of Toshinori Yagi, had stated proudly, the first day he showed it to you.

And it’s only a short walk from the university, his wife chimed in with a smile too wide for her face, nodding excessively.

It’s convenient, they had said, the day you received your acceptance letter and scholarship offer from the university your brother attended. It’ll be good for you to stay with your older brother for a little, before going off into the world on your own, they had promised.

You hadn’t really wanted to go to this university—would’ve much preferred to go away to school in another country—but you didn’t. Keigo knew it, too, knew your desire to leave, to see more of the world, to experience it on your own without that hulking shadow with the wild hair. But he coaxed you into it, convinced you to stay, just like he always does, begging you softly not to leave your poor niisan all alone as gentle fingers pushed locks of hair from your face, trailing down your cheek and coming to cup your jaw, reminding you that you’re all each other has.

And you had nodded, nuzzled your face against his palm, sought comfort and relief in the presence of your big brother, just as you always do. He was right; you had your entire life to travel the world, what’s the rush? Why leave now? Stay with him, just for a little longer.

But your niisan, your niisan has a secret.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know. Keigo has always had a penchant for living fast, after all, seems to somehow incorporate conceptual and literal speed into all aspects of his life—his marks in school, his record-breaking track races, and now, his personal life, too.

It started in high school. He was in twelfth grade. You still don’t know who gave him his first taste, still don’t know why he decided to shoot up that night, but he did.

And it made him feel invincible. It made him feel like he could fly.

He hid it well, didn’t look like a heroin addict—at least, not what the words ‘heroin addict’ usually conjure up. His topaz eyes were bright as ever, even if his pupils were just a pinprick; nails cut so short it looked painful, to keep from scratching and scabbing his body; was always sure to keep his track marks well hidden, methodical in choosing his injection sites, and kept up with regular hygiene, even if his wild, windswept hair did get a little messier.

Yes, he hid it well.

But he couldn’t hide it from you for long, didn’t hide it from you well enough, becoming increasingly careless the deeper he spiralled into the addiction.

And it takes a while for you to truly acknowledge it. You didn’t want to—not at first, anyway—didn’t want to believe that your all-star, top-of-his-class, golden-child of a big brother was a junkie.

So you ignored it. You ignored the way he began recklessly disposing of the needles in the small trash can under his desk instead of hiding them in the kitchen trash whenever your mother asked him to take it out, ignored the burnt spoon you found in the sink and the bloody Q-tips you found littering the counter of the bathroom the two of you shared, ignored the way those tiny orange syringe caps had begun appearing in odd places, seeming to pop up more and more frequently.

Yes, you ignored it, until he stole one of the shoelaces off of your sneakers. And you still can’t explain it, exactly, can’t explain why that was the final straw, why that had you gripping a laceless shoe in a trembling hand as you stormed into the washroom uninvited and unannounced, catching him with the string between his teeth, just as the last of that disgusting orangish-brown liquid sunk into his veins.

The words disintegrate on your tongue, escaping in a pitiful little squeak, all of the fury you felt towards him for his behaviour melting the instant your eyes catch the end of the injection, wide and unblinking as they stare at the needle stuck in his forearm.

For a moment, neither of you are able to speak, Keigo’s mouth opening and closing a few times as his eyes flood with tears, the prettiest topaz shining in the warm washroom light as they frenetically search your face.

“Sit,” you tell him, finally breaking the silence, your voice not your own. His eyebrows knit together, and he shakes his head a little in misunderstanding, but you persist. “Sit,”

Shoulders deflating, he holds your gaze for a moment longer before nodding once and obeying, sitting on the closed toilet.

“We have to—” you stop as your chin begins to wobble, swallowing thickly against the sob crawling up your throat, quivering hands rooting haphazardly through a first-aid kit. “W-We have to clean those, so they don’t get infected,”

Glassy golden eyes watch you intently, his chest hiccupping just a little as he wordlessly holds his arms out to you, armed with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol, the scent stinging your nose.

There aren’t many—only a few little pinpricks on each arm, some decorated with dark blooms of periwinkle and violet, but they still cause your tongue to crumble to bitter, suffocating ash in your mouth.

Tiny fingers encircle his wrist, your touch always so soft, so gentle, as if you’re afraid to break him, and he chokes on a noise that sounds suspiciously similar to a sob.

“You don’t—You shouldn’t have to—” and he can’t even force the words out, breathing out forcefully through his nose as his tears finally overflow, glistening drops streaming down his cheeks, bleary eyes unblinking, focused on your little fingers as they continue their tender ministrations with so much care, with so much love it’s nearly stifling, and he can’t breathe, because he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve it—

“I want to,” a knuckle catches one of his fresh tears, swiping it across his cheekbone and leaving a glimmering trail in its wake. “Alright? I want to,”

And this—this becomes a habit.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

You don’t tell Keigo about your relationship. Not at first, at least, conjuring up flimsy excuses that become more ridiculous as the days pass, as your disappearances steadily increase. Dabi doesn’t want to, makes up some bullshit excuse about how he isn’t ready yet. But you buy it anyway, and you wait.

Until the morning of one of your niisan’s big races, the ones where multiple trainers and coaches come from all over the country to assess his performance, when Dabi shows up entirely unannounced and uninvited, makes sure he’s in Keigo’s line of sight as he bounces around at the starting line, and kisses the life out of you, right in front of him.  

That’s the only time he attends one of Keigo’s races.

The rest you continue attending by yourself. Dabi doesn’t like it, doesn’t like to have you out of his sight at all lately, but he knows it’s moot to argue with you. You’re going, you told him firmly, the night before Keigo’s next race, whether he likes it or not.

But, boy, was your niisan fuming by the time the two of you arrived home that day.

He hadn’t cared that he had, essentially, lost the race, hadn’t cared that he didn’t even manage to place in the top three for the first time in literal years, hadn’t cared that he just blew several chances with potential coaches and sponsors.

None of it mattered.

With a rough hand wrapped around your bicep, he all but yanks you out of the car, doesn’t care that you’re stumbling over your own feet as he drags you towards the front door, doesn’t care that he shoves you inside the house so hard you do trip, crying out as your hands and knees collide with the cold tiled floor.

And he’s yelling, yelling at the top of his lungs, the moment that white door slams shut, shut so hard the walls tremble.

“Fucking Touya Todoroki!? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You can barely see him through your tears as you quickly flip yourself over, beginning to inch away on your hands and feet as you stare up at him, breath hitching in your chest.

“Wh-Who?”

“Dabi, for Christ sake!”

“T-T—” Touya?

“Oh Jesus, don’t tell me—He didn’t tell you his fucking name?”

No, you shake your head quickly, chest stuttering as the name echoes through your mind, your big brother nothing but a blur of crimson and gold advancing towards you, mumbling to himself about how no, of course he didn’t, why would he? Of course not, as he drags nimble fingers through his messy hair.

“To-Todo—”

“Todoroki,” he spits, so harsh it makes you flinch.

“Your coa—”

“Yeah, I know his father,” Keigo rolls his eyes as he crouches down, catches your trembling chin between his thumb and forefinger, and you cease all action immediately, freezing in his grip. “You know his brother,”

Your brow furrows as you belatedly search your memory for any instance of the name, gunmetal grey and snow white flashing through your mind, but everything’s too foggy, too hazy with the fear of disappointing your niisan more, eyes squeezing shut as you hiccup at the mere thought.

But then he’s sighing, always knows when he’s gone a little too far—you are very delicate, after all, so small and naïve and in desperate need of someone to take care of you, aren’t you?—collapsing back on his heels and pulling you into his lap as soft hands smooth down your hair, murmuring it’s alright, it’s alright and niisan’s got you, niisan’s got you.

“What’re you doin’ with a man like that, my little songbird?” his voice is gentle as he rocks your bodies back and forth, after your sobs have calmed a bit.

What are you? you want to ask, front teeth sinking into your tongue hard enough to make you wince, keeping those three tiny words inside of your mouth.

“I like him,” you mumble instead, nuzzling your face into his chest and hiding from those bright, inquisitive topaz eyes.

“You—You like him,” he snorts to himself in disbelief, shaking his head a little.

“I do,” you respond, a little firmer as you pull back to stare at your big brother’s face, eyebrows knit together in determination, sparks of fury igniting deep in your chest at the thought of Keigo thinking he knows better, when he’s just as bad.

“He isn’t good for you—”

“He isn’t good for you,” you shoot back, tone clipped as you level your gaze, squirming a little in his arms. His grasp tightens, like he’s terrified you’re going to leave, honey eyes holding yours for a beat before he lets out a breath, looking away, defeated.

“That doesn’t mean you should be allowed to see him,” he mutters, glancing at your tear-stained face for a moment before his eyes flit away again. “But…” his chest rises with a deep inhale, pressing against you. “I guess…I guess it isn’t very fair of me to, uh, judge you, is it?”

“No,” you pout a little. “It isn’t,”

He huffs out a soft chuckle, gazing at you from the side of his eye, a tiny smirk spreading across his face. “Stop being so cute,” he grumbles, squeezing you against him just a bit too hard, giggles spilling from your lips as your fingers curl in the cotton of his hoodie. “I’m trying to be mad at you, y’know,”

“Kei-nii,” you whine with a roll of your eyes, shoving his shoulder weakly, though there’s a smile on your lips.

“Alright, alright, alright,” he’s saying as lithe fingers brush some hair back from your face, palm resting against your cheek, thumb stroking your jaw rhythmically. “Just—Promise me, if he ever hurts you…You’ll tell me immediately, yeah?”

Blinking a few times, your eyes search his face, sobering up as gold bores into you. There’s something in his stare, something you’ve never seen before, something that you can’t decipher, and it sends chills pebbling across your skin. Swallowing thickly, you nod, little jerky movements as your eyes hold his. “Y-Yeah, promise, niisan,”

“Good,” he whispers, chin resting atop the crown of your head as he cradles you to his chest. “We’re all we have. Never forget it.”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

You only question Dabi about his name once, lounging around on his bed in the early hours of the morning, tangled in his sheets, wearing his t-shirt, with his large hand resting on your bare thigh. His head’s tipped back against the headboard as he exhales smoke in pretty little curls that disintegrate into hazy nothingness only a moment later.

“T-Touya?” Your hearts thudding against your ribcage as you almost whisper the name, barely audible at all, but his head snaps forward, sapphire eyes finding yours immediately.

And for a moment you’re terrified you’ve made a grave mistake, that you’ve crossed some invisible line you hadn’t had a clue about, his glare scathing your skin; but then his features relax, and a little smirk spreads across his lips.

“Ah, so he finally told you,” his voice is quiet, and you can’t read his tone, eyes squinting a little as you lean towards him. “I don’t go by that name anymore,” he speaks up, voice ringing out clear and strong. “Don’t call me that again,”

The or else is implied, and you nod meekly, promising him softly that you’ll never utter it again.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

It’s been gnawing at you all week, sitting heavy like a block of lead in your stomach, the cuticles on your left thumb bitten raw in agitation. You need to tell him. You’re going to tell him, it’s just…

It just never seemed like the right time to tell him—then again, is there ever a right time to tell your older brother that you’re spending the entire weekend at his drug dealer’s place?

But now it’s Friday, and Dabi will be here in a few minutes, and you still have yet to let Keigo know.

Because Keigo is currently otherwise occupied. With a girl.

You hadn’t been expecting to hear the tinny laughter of a woman when you entered the house, arriving home after your last class of the day, hadn’t been expecting to walk into the living room to find said girl splayed across your niisan’s lap, staring up at him dreamily as endless giggles spilled from her painted lips, hadn’t been expecting him to be so completely enamoured with her that he doesn’t even greet you.

It burns up all of the anxiety that had been building inside you in an instant, turns it into boiling rage that bubbles and pops, noxious as it rises up your throat.

And so, you decide that you won’t say anything at all. If he’s too busy to even acknowledge you like he normally does every single day, then surely he doesn’t care if you leave, right?

“I’m going out,” you toss airily over your shoulder as your halfway out the front door, a small grin spreading across you lips as you spot Dabi leaning lazily against his car. He gives you a nod of acknowledgement, smug grin of his own forming on his lips.

Keigo shoots up immediately, nearly knocking the girl to the floor, moving faster than he ever has in his life as he catches your wrist and tugs, hard. A loud yelp sounds from the back of your throat and you stumble backwards, right into your big brother’s chest.

“Where? Huh? Where?” he growls out the word through clenched teeth, squeezing again. “With who? That—That fucking scumbag?”

At the sound of your yelp, Dabi straightens up instantly, usual lidded eyes now wide open and alert, zeroing in on where Keigo has ensnared you.

“Not like it matters to you, not when you have a whore to entertain,” you spit, and though your gaze is blazing, your eyes are filling with tears, gleaming in the late afternoon sun. “Right?” you push, after a few moments of silence.

His grip loosens, although he doesn’t let go completely, fingers still clasped around you.

“Princess, I…”

“No,” you snap, viciously pulling yourself free of him. “Don’t princess me. Not after ignoring me like that,”

“You’re overreacting—”

“Then so are you,” you cut him off sharply, already beginning to back away and blinking hard to clear your eyes of stubborn tears. “I’m spending the weekend at Dabi’s. I’ll see you on Sunday,”

Dabi catches you the moment you’re within reach, drawing you close to his chest for a second before pulling back. Calloused hands gently raise your wrist, sapphire eyes assessing the damage. His thumb caresses the rapidly bruising area rhythmically, back and forth, back and forth, and he frowns deeply, his gaze finally meeting yours.

“Does he do this often? Hurt you like this?”

And it’s startling, shocking, to see the overflowing concern in his crystal eyes, studying your face intently as you try to find your voice. You don’t think he’s ever sounded that serious before.

“I—No, of course not,” you shake your head, tongue tripping over the words. “We—Y’know, siblings fight, and stuff, it’s—he doesn’t know his own strength, sometimes, uh, forgets it, a-and I bruise easily,” you shrug, wincing a little at the serious expression still etched deep into Dabi’s face.

“If he ever puts his hands on you again, I’ll fucking kill him,” Dabi says slowly, softly, as if he’s reciting the morning news to you, dark eyes drifting up to refocus on the figure still standing in the doorway. “Do you understand me?” he asks, though his stare does not leave Keigo’s, voice still calm, almost serene. “I’ll fucking kill him,”

He won’t, you reassure him, countless times over the next few weeks. Niisan’s never intentionally hurt me, Daddy, he won’t, I promise.

And they’re all true, those words you repeat to him, over and over and over again, while you comb fingers through his inky hair or press chaste kisses against his scarred skin. They’re all true.

Until they aren’t.

You should’ve known, really, not to talk about it. He doesn’t—not when you’re cleaning his track marks or wiping sweat from his forehead, not when he lays his head in your lap as he’s coming down, eyes fluttering as your fingers thread through his hair, not even when you’re feeding him teaspoons of water to keep him hydrated as his body forces him to throw up nothing, again, lips dry and cracked, skin clammy and cold—and you shouldn’t, either.

“Have you ever thought about switching to pills?” You ask one night, casually, as if this is mundane, normal, to discuss while washing dishes. “I heard oxy is like, heroin in a pill,”

His jaw clenches, you can see the motion out of the corner of your eye, quickly refocusing your gaze on the bowl in your hands, the same bowl you’ve been washing for about five minutes now.

“No.”

“Why not? They’re more controlled—”

“I said no,”

“And I asked why not,” you spit, dropping the bowl from your hands. It cracks as it collides with the aluminum of the sink, the sound piercing through the tense air as you turn to glare at your brother, soapy hands on your hips. “It would be safer—”

“Marginally—”

“That’s still better than nothing, Keigo! Christ,” you sigh, running a sudsy hand through your hair. “They’re all fucking opioids, what’s the difference!? They’re all gonna get you high the same way, aren’t they?”

“No—for fuck’s sake—”

You wouldn’t understand, even if he tried to explain to you. You wouldn’t understand that he’s already attempted this, attempted to switch from heroin to pills, and that it wasn’t the same—isn’t the same. You wouldn’t understand that oxy doesn’t give the same instantaneous rush as heroin does, doesn’t take his breath away like heroin does, doesn’t warm his entire fucking body the way heroin does.

No, you wouldn’t understand how most of the time he feels like he can’t fucking breathe until he shoots up, wouldn’t understand how, at this point, heroin feels like an old friend, safe and cozy and more comforting than anything he’s ever felt before, than even your arms are, wouldn’t understand how heroin makes him feel like he’s fucking invincible, like he can take on the entire world in one day, like he can continue living.

It makes him feel whole again, full again, put back together with no cracks or missing pieces. It distracts him from how irrevocably shattered his insides truly are, providing him with quick, fleeting relief, just long enough for him to keep going, keep striving, keep breathing. But you wouldn’t understand any of that. How could you?

He’s sighing as he walks away from you, raking both hands through golden hair.

“You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t see what this shit is doing to you! It’s killing you, niisan!”

God, no, not the honorific. Not when you’re gazing at him with tears spilling from your eyes, little hands desperately pawing at his t-shirt, urgent just to make him understand, to get through to him for one instant.

“I-It’s killing you and all I can do is watch,” your voice fades into a whisper, breaking on the last word as more tears streak your cheeks, leaving small gleaming trails in their wake, fingers readjusting, knotting in his shirt and tugging, latching onto him as he keeps walking, jaw clenching again as he tries to ignore you. “Y-You have to stop—no, no, n-not stop, just—just slow down, yeah? Slow down a little, it’s—it’s too fast, niisan, you’re going too fast—”

But it’s building, and building, and his head is throbbing, and throbbing, and your voice is rising higher and higher, louder and louder, and it’s all just too much, and before he even knows what’s happening, his hand is cutting through the air, knuckles colliding with your cheek so hard it sends you stumbling backwards, tripping over your own feet as you fall on your ass.

He regrets it the moment it happens, the very moment his skin makes contact with yours.

But that doesn’t matter; the damage is already done.

He’s never hit you before. Sure, he may be a little rough sometimes, and his grip may leave a few bruises every once in a while, but he has never deliberately hit you, until today.

He never thought he would.

Golden eyes dart from his hand, still raised in the air from where it struck you, blood gleaming on his silver rings, to your face, small and terrified, crimson flowing down your cheek, mixing with your tears as it slowly drips off your jaw, and then back to his hand.

And for a moment, he swears, the whole world stops.

Then, a mere second later, his whole world shatters.

You’re trying to form words, staring up at him with impossibly wide, unblinking eyes, but they’re just escaping your lips in little mumbles, half-formed and coated in spit.

His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, nothing more than a pitiful huff of air formed in the shape of a curse leaving his lips.

It takes your mind a moment to register what’s happened, numb with dizzying shock, stupid with the most heartbreaking pain, dazed as tiny, trembling fingers raise to tenderly prod at the wound, wincing the moment they make contact. But the throbbing of your cheek brings you back quicker than Keigo would’ve liked, and then your eyebrows are knitting together, mouth settling in a wobbly line, blinking hard to clear your eyes of pesky tears.

And all he can do is watch, watch as you shakily push yourself to your feet, watch as your hand grips your phone like it’s a fucking lifeline—a lifeline he very briefly thinks about diving forward and snatching out of your grasp—watch as you turn on the balls of your feet and disappear down the hall, the slam of your bedroom door echoing a moment later.  

You barely make it into your bedroom before your collapsing on the floor, wheezing out uneven breaths, sharp, hard huffs of air that slice through your tight chest with each exhale, vision blurry with stinging tears as you stare down at your phone, cradled in quivering hands.

You know that if you make this phone call, Dabi will never let you come back. You know that if you make this phone call, this is it. Trembling fingers hesitate over his name, those four glowing letters staring back at you, an unnecessary amount of various heart emojis cushioning them.

He doesn’t pick up the first time. Maybe it’s a sign, you think to yourself, a sign that you shouldn’t leave just yet, that you should stay and rot away with him for a little bit longer, remain with him for a little more and give him another piece of your soul that he can add to his prized collection as he slowly steals your life force from you.

But then searing pain radiates through your entire face, along your jaw and to the back of your head, and the coppery smell of blood stings your nose, and you press on Dabi’s name again.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

If he’s being honest, he would’ve never picked up for anyone but you, probably would’ve killed the idiot that thought to interrupt him during one of the biggest deals of his career—of his life.

“What?” he snarls as he answers, pacing along the wall outside the warehouse like a rabid dog, anxious and eager. “This better be important, sweetheart. You knew I was meeting with one of the bosses today—”

“He hit me,”

It’s hard to understand you when you’re still sobbing, words all wet and garbled, and Dabi squints as he focuses his concentration, feet skidding to a stop as his heart begins to pound.

“What?”

“He hit me. Nii—Keigo hit me,”

And then, his blood runs cold. His ears are ringing, vision fading in and out of focus as red tinges the edges, breathing beginning to accelerate, exhaled harshly through flared nostrils. The thin skin stretched taut across his bony knuckles has turned white as he grips his phone so tightly he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his hand.

“Pack your shit,” he tells you, voice oddly calm, cold and sterile and sending shivers skittering up your spine. “I’m gonna fucking kill him,”

[daisyvisions]

No because like imagine this:

You end up calling the number because it’s so cute and he was really sweet when you met him and you’re pleasantly greeted by that charming voice of his. Y’all talk for hours and set up a date for next week (he’s planning it and it’s a surprise for you ;D). A couple days later and it’s the day before your date with Sangyeon. Your friends decided to take you to watch a racing event late that night. You wanna say no because you wanna mentally prepare for your date tomorrow, but they’re not taking no as an answer. On your way into the stadium, you accidentally bump into a guy with a helmet on. You both immediately apologize and go on with your lives (but his eyes may have lingered on you for a bit-). Your friends are stunned because you just bumped into the most popular racer in this event and you’re kinda embarrassed now. When you get to your seat and the race starts, you’re immediately enamored by the stranger you bumped into. Even with the helmet on, you can tell he’s handsome. The tight shirt he has on accentuates his broad shoulders and his muscles. As he’s on the track receiving his prize for winning 1st place, you swear he looks at you. When you’re on your way out, you linger near the exit of the stadium, hoping to catch a cab because you live in the opposite direction from your friends and don’t wanna inconvenience them. You’re just standing there trying to book an Uber on your phone until you feel someone gently tap your shoulder and clear their throat. When you turn around, you see the hot racer you bumped into earlier, with his helmet still on. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing waiting here all alone?” “J-just waiting for a ride” He chuckles, hearing the cute little stutter and seeing you try not to stare too much at the defined muscles that are being shown because of the tight material of his top. He’d lean in close and say, “you need a ride babygirl? Hell, I could give you the ride of your life if you really wanted…”

-🍞 (I love your work too shawty 😫 especially possessive Hoonie-)

bread, you're giving me REALLY good ideas for a fic rn ngl 😭😩 he'll prolong this double life thing with you until one day either you connect the dots or just find out by accident, either way you end up riding him into the sunset 🤪

and aw thank you yes bcos possessive hoonie is a category in itself and I live for it 💕

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑆/𝑂'𝑠 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝐶𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝐷𝑎𝑑

♡*:.｡.𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰.｡.:*♡

Hongjoong had offered to look after your daughter since he knew you had an interview to go to. He didn't mind having her keep him company at the studio, he usually got very lonely that a tiny bundle of sunshine would definitely brighten up his day. Noticing she was probably bored, just as he was, he thought of something.

"Hey? Princess? Wanna play hide and seek?"

She didn't even respond, she immediately ran out the door to go hide somewhere in the company. Hongjoong giggled and began counting to 20 before scurrying off to go find her. It wasn't difficult for him to find her either, her pink bow was peeking out from the table she was hiding behind in. Hongjoong quietly crept up and peeked his head out.

"Found you!" He exclaimed, which had the little girl bursting into giggles.

"Yay daddy! You found me!"

Hongjoong's heart stopped for a moment before he ended up giggling himself.

"Yes princess. I did find you. Now go hide again so daddy can find you again."

Hongjoong watched as she ran off again, a shy smile on his face as he recalled the moment. He couldn't wait to tell you about it.

♡*:.｡.𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪.｡.:*♡

"Aww come on kiddo. Won't you eat your food?"

Seonghwa felt helpless as the little boy in front of him refused to eat his vegetables.

"I want ice cream." He pointed to the freezer, knowing fully well you and Seonghwa had bought ice cream when you went grocery shopping.

"And you'll get to eat some, but first, you must finish this ok?"

The little boy huffed slightly. He picked up his fork but overall just toyed around with the food, not even taking a bite or even putting it close to his mouth. Seonghwa pouted, feeling dejected and hurt.

"Aww please try some at least. I tried really hard to make it delicious for you." He begged.

You honestly felt sorry for Seonghwa, he had really been trying so hard these days to bond with your son. The boy looked at him when he said that.

"You cooked this?" To which Seonghwa nodded.

The little boy inhaled and then surprised him by saying:

"Ok. I'll try some of daddy's food."

You dropped your own fork when he said that and Seonghwa stared at him in disbelief and then at you. You were both in shock, however the little boy just began eating as if it was the most normal thing in the world to say. Seonghwa was feeling so many things at once and immediately asked.

"Could you please just....say that one more time?"

♡*:.｡.𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸.｡.:*♡

"Sweetie. Get down from there. You might break something."

You felt so embarrassed, having your daughter run around the dressing room and climb on top of things with the members watching you. Yunho however didn't mind, he thought it was cute how active and playful she was.

"Y/N it's ok. We really don't mind." He assured you.

Turning his attention back to the tiny girl, he picked her up and sat her on top of one of the dressers in the room.

"Look at you! You're so tall now!" He chuckled.

The little girl smiled as she peered at Yunho's head.

"I can finally see the top of daddy's head." She blurted out.

Everyone in the room got quiet. Some of the boys were looking shocked while others were trying hard to not burst out in squeals. You felt your face grow red, your hands immediately covering your face.

Yunho began chuckling nervously and covered his face as well.

"Yes babygirl. You're now as tall as daddy."

He couldn't help himself as he picked her up and spun her around, completely unbothered that she thinks of him as her dad. He truly loves it.

♡*:.｡.𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰.｡.:*♡

Yeosang came into your house to find both you and your son restless.

"Everything ok? Am I interrupting?" Yeosang always made sure never to overstep boundaries and not get in the way of you parenting your son.

"No you're not. We're just having a tiny issue." You sighed.

"I wanna go on the school's field trip." The toddler said.

"I know you do honey, but I'm sorry. I have work that day and you can't go by yourself." You tried explaining for the 6th time in a row.

The little boy huffed, arms crossed over his chest. He then looked over at Yeosang and his eyes lit up.

"Well can daddy take me instead?"

You snapped your head in horror at Yeosang, watching as his eyes grew wide, his complexion somewhat turning pale. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die, thinking he was uncomfortable by what the boy said.

"Honey, I don't think Yeosang-"

"I'll take him."

Now it was your turn to be stunned as Yeosang firmly stated:

"I'll go with you on the school trip. Let's have a little bonding time together."

♡*:.｡.𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷.｡.:*♡

From the moment he found out you had a daughter, San was super eager to meet her, be a part of her life. He simply adored kids and loved your daughter as if she was his own.

He did, in fact, think of her as his own kid and wanted her to think of him as her dad hopefully one day in the future. He'd often joke with her and ask her to call him dad, but she'd always just look at him weird.

"Look! I got you this while I was away on tour."

San excitedly handed the box to you girl in front of him. She eyed it curiously before opening it, revealing a large plush toy that made her scream in happiness.

"I knew you'd love it! I saw it and thought of you." He was just as excited as she was.

"It's so cute!" She hugged it.

"Darling. Manners. What do you say?" You reminded her.

The girl bit her thumb as she walked up to San.

"Thank you daddy." She followed it by a kiss to his cheek.

San could hardly believe it. She actually said it and he was over the moon.

"Oh my God! You actually called me dad!"

He beamed with joy as he pulled her into his lap and peppered her tiny head with kisses.

♡*:.｡.𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲.｡.:*♡

When you called Mingi, asking him if he could do you a favor and pick your son up from school, he immediately got up and headed out. He enjoyed spending time with him and wanted to be as helpful as he could be since he knew raising a kid as a single parent was no easy task.

He waited outside the school gates, hoping to spot him there soon. When he saw him come out, he began waving at him, huge grin on his face, not caring if he looked like a total idiot. When your son saw him, he began jumping up and down, waving back and began racing towards him.

"Dad!" He shouted.

Mingi paused when he heard him say that. He looked around, thinking perhaps the kid's father actually showed up or something. But then he felt a tiny body attach itself to his. He looked down to find your son staring at him so purely as he hugged his legs. That's when Mingi realized he was referring to him.

"Did...did you just call me?" Mingi pointed at himself rather incredulous.

When the boy nodded, Mingi burst out into a smile. He picked up the boy and ruffled his hair. It was definitely a surprise, but he wasn't mad. It was a very touching moment for him and he felt like he was truly making an impact in the little boy's life, something he was hoping to achieve.

♡*:.｡.𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰.｡.:*♡

You figured that after finding out you had a daughter Wooyoung would give up trying to pursue you, but you were wrong. Although he was awkward at first, he soon got the hang of helping you out with her. He didn't mind changing diapers or getting up to attend to her when she awoke at night.

Right now he was hell bent on trying to get her to talk.

"Google says she should have been babbling her first words 2 months ago. We got work to do."

So there he was, repeating the word 'mommy' over and over again on various tones and speeds, hoping the girl would follow along.

"Look here. Moooommmyy." He drawled the word out as he pointed at you.

The little girl made several attempts, uttering a few incoherent noises. Then finally she said her first word:

"Dada." She innocently looked at Wooyoung.

Wooyoung was shook to the core and so were you. He just looked at her for a few seconds then turned to you.

"She obviously loves me better than you." He teased.

He then turned back to her and smiled. "Can you do me a favor and say 'DaDa' again?"

♡*:.｡.𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸.｡.:*♡

You were all settled in the living room watching a movie, Jongho and you cuddled up in the couch while your son opted for laying on the floor bundled up in his blankets. He was barely paying attention to the movie, instead playing around with some of the toys scattered around him.

Feeling hungry, he went to the kitchen and took out an apple from the fridge. He then walked up next to Jongho and tugged on his sleeve.

"Dad?" His tiny voice called out.

Jongho immediately looked at him.

"Yes buddy? What is it?"

The boy held the apple out to him. Jongho chuckled as he realized what he was asking for.

"All right don't worry. Daddy's got this."

He effortlessly split the apple open for the boy, who thanked him and then went back to his tiny fort. Jongho turned to you, not understanding why you had that look on your face.

"You do realize he called you 'dad' and you responded like nothing?" You pointed it out.

Jongho was surprised when he realized you were right. He only ended up giggling.

"It did come out so naturally right?" He wrapped his arm around you again and kissed your cheek.

"Maybe it's meant to be this way."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

[meltwonu]

1. “Don’t make me take you home and punish you.”

9. “Try to stay quiet, understand?”

18. “You’re in trouble now.”

notes; cam-couple!au, dom!joshua, a bit of brat!reader, daddy!kink, fucking in a car, using panties as a gag, dirty talk, degradation 😗💕 hehe also i kinda mentioned in an anon ask that i wasn’t sure if i wanted to do it all as camboy!svt but i figured that’d get repetitive real fast so its just gonna be more of camboy/cam-couple instead kjdhksh 😭😭 Hope that’s okay! As always, thank you so much for requesting! Enjoy! 💕

edit; not joshua doing a vlive while i’m proofreading this, i literally started screaming LMAO this mf making a bracelet BEING CUTE while i’m writing about getting railed by him, hateful DKJFHKSDH 😩😩😩

“Don’t make me take you home and punish you.”

Joshua doesn’t even spare you a glance from across the fancy dinner table - eyes downcast towards his food as you grin.

“Mm, but our viewers like it when you do that~” Licking your lips, you watch as a slight smirk etches itself onto his features before he finally meets your lustful stare.

“I try to take you out on a fancy dinner and all you can think about is filming. Tsk, always so fuckin’ filthy.” His silverware clanks against his plate as he leans back in his seat - but not before picking up his glass of wine.

“Let me guess, panties are already wet just thinking about it, huh?”

Nodding, you giggle softly before your eyes are downcast; a demure aura about you despite what you decide to do next.

Joshua’s breath hitches momentarily - fingertips gripping the wine glass tightly when he feels your heeled foot flitting up his calf and resting against his inner thigh underneath the table.

“Sweetheart…” Muttering, he stays still, waiting for what you do to decide his course of action.

“Yes, daddy…?” 

Whispering, you make sure your voice is low enough that the other occupants of the fancy restaurant can’t hear you. “I took my panties off when I went to the restroom earlier… I’m so wet, I might be soaking my pretty dress right now… Such a waste, y’know? Daddy bought it for me after all~”

Joshua grits his teeth as he sets his wine glass down - suddenly less concerned about the dinner and more concerned about getting you home and in his bed.

He takes a second to compose himself; angel-like façade back on as he flags down a waiter and asks for the cheque.

“Was the food not to your liking, sir?”

Joshua smiles - eyes forming crescents as he laughs.

“It’s perfect actually, we just have a bit of an emergency at home so we need to head out. Right now.”

His hands grip the steering wheel tightly; knuckles white as he tries to focus on the road in front.

“Sweetheart… Don’t play this game with me. You won’t win.” Joshua feels your hand sliding into his lap - palming him through his slacks as you hum in response.

“Aww, daddy... You just seem kinda tense so I thought I’d help out~”

Scoffing in return, he veers off the next exit ramp of the highway; searching for a more secluded area before he puts the car in park and turns it off.

Joshua turns to you, the same angel-like smile painting his features before it morphs into a knowing smirk.

“You’re in trouble now.”

You get what you want.

“Mmph! Ngh...!”

Sort of.

“Aww, look at my filthy ‘lil babygirl. Getting fucked in the back of my car while all of our viewers watch,” Joshua laughs cruelly - hips slamming into your ass as he fucks you front behind, “Her soaked panties are keeping her mouth occupied since she can’t keep her voice down.”

His fingers dig into the skin of your ass as you moan into the fabric in your mouth - eyes rolling to the back of your head as Joshua’s cock slams into your cervix.

“So fuckin’ needy and desperate to be fucked all the time, I can’t even take her out to a nice dinner without her pussy getting wet for me.”

You whine and whimper; hips working back to fuck yourself on Joshua’s cock as you clench around him.

“To think she wanted me to take her home and fuck her… And now I’m fucking her in the backseat of my car. Hah, then I’m gonna cum in her needy pussy and make her sit in the passenger’s seat while my cum drips out of her.”

“Mmnh…”

Joshua’s thrusts have your body jerking against the leather; your fingertips trying to grip onto anything to keep your body upright instead of slumping against the seats.

“If I take the panties out of your mouth, will you behave and keep your voice down?”

You nod frantically in return as Joshua leans closer from behind and starts tugging the soaked fabric from your mouth - tucking them into his back pocket for safe keeping.

“Try to stay quiet, understand? You wouldn’t want someone catching me fucking you in here, would you? Mm, not that our viewers don’t already know~”

“N-no, daddy…” Your voice is hushed and only audible enough for his phone that sits in the center console recording you, to hear. “Ngh, I--I’ll be good now, I, a-ah, promise!”

“You’re such a filthy ‘lil liar, sweetheart~ You really wanna get punished more, don’t you?”

“Mmh, n-no, I--I swear!”

He reaches a hand around your body, fingertips pinching your clit as you let out a loud, garbled cry of his name.

“See? I barely get my fingers on your clit and you, already, can’t keep your voice down.” Joshua starts to double his pace; fucking you hard enough for the car to start swaying. “Ah, I know the perfect way to punish you when we get home~”

“H-huh?” Your head feels muddled; body buzzing with electricity with each skillful snap of his hips. 

Joshua glances into the phone still recording from it’s spot before he starts to lean into you again - his warm chest meeting your back. 

“You’re not gonna cum right now.” 

“W-wait, but d-daddy, I--”

“Ah, ah, ah~ You’re gonna let daddy cum in your filthy ‘lil cunt and then I’m gonna get you home and you’re gonna be a good girl and let daddy watch you grind against a pillow and get yourself off without me touching you.” 

“Buh--but--”

“No buts. I wanna see you get that pillow soaked with your wetness and my cum dripping from your needy hole, am I understood? We can even do an extra mini cam show so everyone can watch you cum just like that~ Since you’re always so preoccupied with wanting people to see you get off~” 

The thought alone has goosebumps rising on your skin; eyes glazing over in lust as you peer up into the window that’s fogging up.

You catch your fucked out expression in the glass, right as Joshua kisses your shoulder and pulls away. 

“Am I understood, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes, daddy...” 

Joshua feels his cock throbbing; already close to an orgasm as he draws his hips back, only to thrust back in and start a punishing pace. 

“Good. Now, be a good girl and don’t you dare spill a drop of daddy’s cum.”

[kpoptwitches]

Hi I love your writing and I was wondering if you could do a hyung line reaction to their SO using their safe word?

|| Of course, darling! 🌻 ||

You can find the Maknae Line reaction -> here

Warnings: 18+ content, reader being pushed past their limits, orgasm denial, spanking, oral (male + female receiving), this may be sensitive content for some readers, strong language, read at your own risk

Mafia!BTS Reaction: You Use Your Safe Word (Hyung Line) [18+]

Kim Seokjin

You whined, feeling another orgasm beginning to approach. Your fingers gripped onto the bed sheets tight, your back arching off the mattress.

“I-I..” you moaned, moving one hand to cover your mouth.

You could feel Jin moving away the second you moaned, causing another whine to erupt from your throat.

“D-Don’t,” you pleaded, feeling exhausted and uncomfortable from being denied so many times.

Jin pulled his head out from between your legs, a smirk tugging on his lips, “You’re so cute like this, princess. Begging for to let you cum..”

His lips attached themselves to your neck while you felt two of his slender fingers slip inside you. They started moving in and out at a painfully slow speed. You were a withering mess. You just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Pink! Pink, Jin, pink.”

He stopped, immediately stepping away from your form on the bed.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, princess. Wait here, okay?” he apologized before exiting the room.

Jin returned a few minutes later, a mug of steaming liquid in his hand. It was your favourite cup of tea.

“Here, baby. Let’s just unwind, okay? I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.”

Min Yoongi

You were currently bent over his knee, your skirt bunched up on your hips, your panties slid down to your knees. His hand rubbed itself across your smooth flesh before slapping it for what felt like thr millionth time. At first it was fine, the stinging barely noticeable, but as the slaps continued, the pain got more unbearable.

“Y-Yoongi,” you stuttered out, wiggling in his grasp.

“You got this, babygirl. Just a couple more.”

You felt his hand make another sharp impact with your upper thigh, causing you to yelp. Just a couple more, you thought to yourself until you felt yet another impact, hurting more than the last. That’s it. Tears began brimming in your eyes, one even threatening to fall.

“Red! Red, red..” you shouted out, the stinging still not subsiding.

“Fuck,” he muttered quickly moving you off his lap, “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. It was just too much..” you said, looking down at your hands.

“Hey,” you hear Yoongi whisper, then a gentle grip on your chin caused you look up into his eyes, “I’m sorry I went too far, sweetheart. I thought you could handle it.”

He pulled you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace, then pressed a delicate kiss to the top of your head.

“I won’t take it that far again, I promise.”

Jung Hoseok

Hoseok’s hands snaked their way through the soft strands of your hair, gripping onto them tightly. He bobbed your head up and down his cock, grunting in pure satisfaction. Your lungs began to burn. You could Hoseok hitting the back of your throat, making tears stream down your cheeks.

If it was even possible, the grip on your hair tightened more causing you to wince in pain. You could no longer concentrate due to the lack of oxygen, the painfully tight drip on your hair, and the constantly flow of tears streaming down your cheeks.

Tapping his leg multiple times, he let go of your hair just enough for you to pull yourself away.

“Hoseok,” you coughed, “P-Pineapple.”

His mouth felt open in a silent gasp. You felt Hoseok immediately scooping you up in his arms, and bringing you over to the bed. He sat you down on his lap, cradling you in his arms while you caught your breath. Seconds ticked by, your coughing finally came to an end.

“So,” Hoseok started, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, trying to lift the mood, “You want to finish?”

You couldn’t help but to chuckle, lightly hitting his bare chest, “Shut up.”

“I’m kidding, beautiful. Cmon, let’s go get cleaned up.”

Kim Namjoon

You let out a whimper, feeling the corner of the wooden desk dig deeper into your thighs with every thrust.

You wanted to move, you wanted to readjust, but you were bent over Namjoon’s desk, face down, arms pinned behind your back. You could feel your arms beginning to cramp, the wood pushing too far into your legs.

“Namjoon,” you muttered, “Peanut Butter.”

He didn’t seem to hear you, the sound of skin slapping and desk creaking was drowning out the barely audible whisper of your voice.

“Peanut Butter!”

He heard you this time. Loud and clear. His actions came to a halt. He pulled out, letting go of your wrists, and helped you stand back up.

“I’m sorry, Namjoon, it’s just the wood—”

He shushed you, giving you a calm smile.

“It’s okay, baby, don’t apologize for something that was too much for you,” he whispered, picking you before your legs gave out, “Let’s just go relax, yeah?”

[chaomother]

blaze x amy cafe date maybe?

OF COURSE MY BABYGIRL!!!! i'd do anything for you, and you always get special gf privileges to req whenever you want!♡♡ *BLOWS U A BIG KISS*

「blaze the cat x amy the hedgehog」

“Oh Blaze, I think it’s time we get you out of this stuffy, old library!”

As Blaze flipped the page of yet another military treatise, the sweet voice of her girlfriend enveloped her senses in congruence with a pair of arms squeezing her from behind. “Ames! What are you doing here?”

Amy’s hands rested on Blaze’s shoulders, kneading into the rigid muscles and alleviating a little of the strain. “Didn’t you hear me? We’re going on a date!♡” she exclaimed fervently, the astonishment on Blaze’s countenance evoking a giggle from the depths of her throat.

“But I still have a whole pile to get through—” Blaze gestured towards the bulky tower of books still occupying a side of the library table.

Rolling her eyes, Amy tugged on Blaze’s arm while saying, “And you already did a pile today! Just for a small tea break, okay?”

Blaze vacillated whether she could afford a moment’s respite, but when she took a peek at Amy’s hopeful mien, her heart was captured once more and couldn’t possibly refuse. Making her girlfriend happy by spending time with her? It truly wasn’t an opportunity to pass up.

Allowing Amy to pull her up from her seat, the two girls entwined their hands and ambled from the capacious building and out where the sunbeams brushed their fur, warming their already lit hearts.

“I know just the café I want to take you to—it’s a little bit of a walk, though, is that alright?♪” Amy put forward, finding her grin widening tenfold when Blaze nodded her head.

“For you? Of course it is,” Blaze answered, smiling softly as Amy nuzzled her cheek into her shoulder, “That, and a warm cup of tea.”

Instantly, a puerile pout twisted itself on Amy’s lips. And that cute little action of Amy’s is precisely why Blaze added that extra remark; she was just so adorable to tease sometimes.

The two girls chatted—although it was mostly Amy jabbering away about her own latest endeavor, how she bravely fought off a hoard of badniks with Cream—until they arrived at a quaint, paradisal café.

“Isn’t this…?” Blaze breathed out, taken aback as she examined the glamorous sign that read 〚Honey 'n Lace Café〛. She heard Amy chortle blissfully beside her, the shorter girl capering ahead and clasping onto both of her hands in her own.

Nodding ardently, Amy confessed, "This is the spot we had our first date ever!"

Warmth flooded Blaze's cheeks, her embarrassment palpable as she staved off her stutter by squeezing Amy's hands.

"I know it's probably a bit silly to come here for a simple break, but... I wanted you to know I'm always cheering you on!" Despite her own bashfulness, Amy exuded confidence and a sincere wish for Blaze's comfort.

"You've been working so hard, my princess, let me show you the depths of my loyalty." And as Amy flashed a jejune, knightly pose, Blaze's entire soul went aglow in a soft, rosy pink.

[spideymarvelws]

Pillow Fort

Fratboy!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My Taglists

A/n : Got this idea from when i made a pillow fort in my room cause i was feeling lonely :’) Also this isnt really a part two to behind doors, just a branched off oneshot from further down in there relationship

Summary : Peter is tired from a rough night of patrolling and comes home to you sleeping in your very own pillow fort

Warnings : SMUT! (oral [fem rec], dirty talk, sub/dom dynamics) some nice floofy floof

Word Count : 3.7k

...

Peter had never felt so drained after patrol. 

Maybe it was because he stayed up all night studying for a Physics quiz or that classes throughout the day seemed to drag on because you weren’t there to entertain him with your silly pick up lines you came up with on the go. After his last class ended, he didn’t want to go out as spider-man. All he wanted was to swing by your apartment and cuddle for the rest of the day, but when he heard about a new gang terrorising the city on Mr. Delmer’s radio, he knew he had a responsibility to stop them. 

One gang and a drunk driver later, he found himself landing in front of your window, knocking lightly on the glass. After a few seconds of not getting a response, he assumed you were already asleep. Carefully, he slid open the window, stepping inside your bedroom. He locked the window before taking off his suit with a heavy sigh, leaving him in his boxers, ready to slide into bed with you.

However, as he sat on your bed and his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he noticed that it was stripped bare of any blankets or pillows. He stood straight up, looking around your room until his eyes fell on a deformed structure hidden in the corner.

It was a pillow fort. 

It was flimsy, a significant dip in the roof (he could only imagine how much it annoyed you throughout the process of making it) but it kept hold. The wooden chairs on either side were the only support for the fort, heavy books keeping the sheets secure. It was rickety, but a fort nonetheless.

Peter let out a small sigh, a soft smile forming on his lips as he walked up to the structure, trying to find the entrance in the mountain of blankets. Getting on his knees, he crawled through, his hands and legs ending up on either side of your sleeping form.

“Baby?” He whispered, placing his hand on your cheek, “Sweetheart? Love? Babygirl?” He littered your face with kisses, slowly waking you up.

You let out a loud groan, stretching your arms out and almost knocking the flimsy blanket ceiling. Peter raised himself slightly, trying his best to give you enough room to stretch in the small space

“Shit,” you mumbled, making Peter chucked at your sleepy state, “Oh... Hey Petey,”

“Hey, Y/n/n,” Peter mumbled back, letting out a breathy laugh, “Missed you,”

You raised your hand to push the loose curls falling down in front of his face behind his ear, giggling at the fact that it felt right back in his eye. He blew the strand with his mouth, his nose crunching up cutely when it went right back to tickling the side of his face.

“I need to cut it soon,” he said, lowering himself into your body, his head buried in the middle of your chest like a puzzle piece fitting perfectly in place.

“I strongly disagree,” your said, almost offended at his words as your passed your fingers through his soft, pillowy hair, “Cut it and I’m asking Tony for his blasters,”

“Are you sure he’s going to let you borrow it after last time,” Peter looked up at you, his left cheek squished against your shirt, his lips slightly parted.

“Who says I haven’t been practicing?” You smiled, scratching his scalp, enjoying the feeling of his body melting into yours.

“Oh really?” He mumbled, “I’m going to have to see those skills sometime babe,”

“I don’t know Peter...” you dragged, biting your lip and tugged on his hair gently, “I don’t want to steal your thunder,”

“That confident huh?”

“That I could beat you in a fight, one hundred percent,”

Peter shook his head, “I’m sure you can,”

You gasped at his sarcastic tone, “You have no faith in me!” 

“I never said that,” he pinched your side, raising back on his arms to hover over you.

You pouted angrily, crossing your arms over your chest, “It was implied,”

“Oh was it now?”

“Yes, yes it was,”

Peter rolled his eyes playfully.

“Maybe I just don’t want you to get hurt,”

“Then I’d tell you to go fuck yourself. I’m incapable of getting hurt and I don’t need your protection,” you replied smugly, sticking your tongue out.

“Is that so?”

You hummed in confirmation.

“Okay then,” he grinned, trailing the pads of his fingers up the side of your waist, “Protect yourself from this then!”

His hands pulled the bottom of your shirt up, revealing your stomach. Without hesitation he attacked the soft skin, wiggling his fingers in the places he knew would make you scream. 

“For fucks sake Peter!” your hand shot up to his chest, trying to push him away as the giggles took over your body, your chest bubbling with joy while your breath escaped your lungs.

“Stop! Peter! Oh. My. God. Stop!” you laughed, fists pounding at his hard chest. 

“Then tell me, you wont get those blasters Y/n!” he said, a sinister smirk on his face, “I’m not letting you go until you tell me!”

“I-” you heaved, “Peter! I-” you giggled, “Holu fuck!” god damn did your chest begin to hurt, “Okay! Okay! I won’t get them! Now stop!”

His hands suddenly left your body as he leaned back on his calves to admire the mess he made of you. Your chest raised up and down with desperate breaths to calm your rapid beating heat, your face blown out and your eyes closed in a silent thank you. You sighed, letting your stiff limbs fall back into the cushioning with a thud, relaxing fully. 

It reminded him of a very different scenario other than the aftermath of an innocent tickle fight.

“You know I was having a great time before you showed up,” you murmured after a while.

“I find that hard to believe,”

“Oh really?”

“Yes really, I’m amazing!”

“You’re a monster.”

“Your monster though,”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever makes you sleep at night,” you paused, opening one eye to look up at him, “You’re still not cutting your hair though,”

“You’re still on this!”

“It was the point of this whole conversation! Of course I’m still on this-”

“Oh, that's it.”

With your one eye still closed, you let out a surprised hum, circling your arms around Peter’s neck, as his lips met onto yours. You sighed into the kiss, his body relaxing into yours while his hands trailed the side of your body once more, lifting your left thigh against his waist. The kiss became hungrier, soon both your tongues became entangled with each other. You didn’t bother to fight for dominance, knowing Peter already took that role when his hand rested on your ass, squeezing tightly at the skin.

“I hate you,” he mumbled, pulling back and pressing his forehead on yours.

“Sure seems like it Petey,” you whispered, voice low and sultry.

With a low growl, he smashed his lips back on yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. God you loved getting him riled up, as much as you loved your shy, little nerd, the other side of him you saw in bed turned you on more than you could think of as you slipped into sub space.

But you didn't want to do it in something as unstable as a pillow fort.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he whispered into your mouth, moving to your jaw and down your throat.

“Peter,” You groaned, pushing on his shoulders lightly, “Not here, baby.”

Sucking on your collar bone, Peter mumbled, “Why not?”

“I don’t- fuck,” you gasped as Peter pulled up your shirt and latched his lips onto your nipple, massaging the other with his hand, “I don’t think fucking in an unstable pillow fort is going to be really advisable,”

“Don’t knock it till you try it right?” He snickered, moving his lips to the other nipple.

“Were going to knock the fucking thing down,” you grunted, bitting down on your finger while the other grabbed the sheets underneath you.

“Well it’s either here or your bare mattress,” he whispered, raising his head back up near yours, tugging at the bottom of your shirt and pulling it over your head, leaving you in just your panties, “You decide.”

“You ride a tough bargain Peter,” you whispered back, biting your lip at the darkness in his eyes.

He continued down your body, his voice deep with lust, “You know me princess,” he placed a kiss on your stomach, moving down your hips before reaching the side of your thighs, taking them in his hands, “I like when you beg,”

You groaned at his words, throwing your head back as his lips hovered over your clothed core for a split second. But he avoided contact at all costs, focusing on biting and sucking on your thigh, moving between the left and right and getting closer to the place you wanted him the most.

“Peter,” you whined, running your hand through his hair, tugging at his locks once again.

“I thought you heard me earlier princess,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling your heat closer to his face, “I want you to beg,”

You groaned, not wanting to give in. But the light kisses to your clit and his hands moving up and down your thighs, you didn’t know how long you could resist before you broke.

“Come on pretty girl,” he bit the inside of your thigh, sucking the skin to form a bruise, “Beg for it, beg for what you want so badly,”

You tucked your head into your shoulder, “Touch me peter,” you mumbled, yelping when he slapped your thigh.

“Louder pretty girl,”

“Oh god, touch me Peter! Touch my pussy, please,” you said audibly, your hands shooting to his hair, desperate for something to hold onto.

Without any further discussion, Peter teared off your underwear and buried his face between your thighs, lapping at the juices that started to escape your lips minutes before and continued flowing onto his tongue. If there was something he loved more than life itself, it was your taste. Nothing could match up to the sweet nectar that your body gave him. He loved giving you pleasure that nobody else could. He glanced up at you, head thrown back, thighs closing in around his face as your hands pushed him deeper into your core.

If there was a heaven, this is what he imagined it would be.

He shook his head, flicking his tongue deeper inside of you before moving up to suck your on your clit gently. One of his arms stayed securely on your waist, keeping you down so you didn’t destroy the structure around you while the other moved closer to your heat. He tested the waters by gliding his warm finger tip over your cunt and slipping it in, paying attention to your body’s reactions, jerking and tensing under him.

“More,” you whimpered, “More, please Peter,”

“What was that baby? Did my needy girl want more than what I’m giving her?” his laugh sent vibrations up your torso, “What did I say?”

“To- to beg,”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Peter, Peter please give me more, I want it faster, harder, anything! Just please!” you cried, jerking your hips off the ground but his strength held you down.

“Good girl,” he smirked, adding another finger while quickening his pace. His mouth stayed working around your sensitive bud, brushing his tongue along it like he was painting a precious artwork. 

His fingers however were ferocious, pumping in and out of you at an inhuman rate. Your juices began to soak the sheets beneath you, hips grinding back down like the desperate whore you were, pulling his digits deeper inside you.

“Peter, I’m- i’m gonna cum,” your legs began to shake, your voice rising higher and higher while you orgasm approached, “Please Peter! Can I cum? Can I cum?” 

“Go on baby, cum for me, cum in my mouth, cum all over my fingers,” his fingers moved impossibly faster, plunging in and out of your pussy, “Fall apart for me princess.”

You screamed when your high hit, your back arching out of his control. He slowed his movements, sailing you through it, prolonging it for as long as possible. When your body slumped back on the floor, he trailed his lips back up your stomach, staining your skin with your cum. He pushed his lips on yours, moaning as you devoured his mouth, drinking up every last drop.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “You ready for more princess?”

All you could muster was a nod, playing it off as exhaustion from your recent high. Even after a years of dating, you were still as closed off and shy from when he met you in bed, holding back your precious voice from him. He tried his best to keep you talking, to tell you that screaming like a banshee was all he ever wanted. But every time you came back from your euphoric state, you were always self conscious of doing something wrong or saying something out of line.

He was determined to make that your biggest confidence using the little things he picked up along the way.

“Come one princess,” he muttered groggily, moving to your neck and kissing your pulse point, nibbling and sucking on the skin, “I’m not going to do anything if you don’t speak up,”

You looked up at him with doe eyes, a completely different person from the one that was bickering with him earlier. One that was willing to do anything and everything he wanted. But he wanted tonight to be about you, he wanted to do what you wanted, to pleasure and worship you the way you deserve.

It was your pillow fort he was about to fuck you in after all.

“I- uh, you could do what you were… you know, going to do?”

“And what was that sweetheart?” 

Heat rose to your face, you hid your head in your shoulder in an attempt to avoid saying such vulgar words. Peter only squinted his eyes, the gears in his head turning as he thought of something to get you to speak up.

“Alright then,” he smirked, “Have it your way.”

You watched with curious eyes while he slipped out of boxers, taking his hard cock in his hand and guiding it to your puffy hole. He slowly unsheathed himself inside you, resisting the urge to pull back out and slam right back into you. You were always so tight around him, and your uncontrollable clenching just destroyed him even more. 

In one swift motion, he turned the both of you over, careful to keep his chest pressed against yours so you didn’t raise up and mess up the fort.

“There we go,” he sighed, letting you settle comfortably in the new position with your hands pressed against his shoulder and legs on either side of his waist, keeping his cock buried deep inside of you.

“Peter I-”

“Ah, ah, ah, my turn to speak now princess,” he cut you off, squeezing your hips when you moved around a bit too much for his liking, “Now, we’re going to work on our communication skills okay? Meaning, everything you’re feeling as I fuck you, I want you to tell me. And by everything, I mean every detail princess,” he lowered his voice, “I want to know how my cock feels inside of you, what goes through your mind while you fuck yourself sensless,” He rutted his hips up, smiling when you fell further against his chest, whimpering into his neck.

“I. Want. To. Hear. Every. Word,” he punctuated each word with the thrust of his hips, “Or else this ends, you got that princess,?”

You instinctively nodded but quickly caught yourself, “Yes Peter,”

“That’s my good little princess,” he took your cheek into his palm, bringing your head and to press his forehead against his, “Ready?”

“Yes Petey,” you nodded, letting out a shaky moan when he started bouncing you up and down his length, meeting you halfway.

“Go on princess,”

“It- it feels good,” you stuttered, closing your eyes to focus on the pleasure and not Peter’s lustful eyes staring back at you, “You’re… you’re really big Peter. Stretching… me out… so, so good,”

“Good girl,” he groaned, quickening his pace with every word, “Keep going.”

“I… I-” you slumped fully against his chest, “I can’t, all i feel is you Petey. I- I can’t think, all I… I could only feel-”

“Then tell me what you feel Y/n, tell me everything.”

“Amazing… so- so full and deep.” your fingers digged into his skin, “Could you go faster? Please Peter, I- I need more,”

“Anything for you princess,” he mumbled, planting his feet on the floor and ramming into you at the same pace he did with his fingers.

“Ah fuck!” you tightened your arms around his neck, “Peter! Oh god Peter! I- I-”

“Are you close princess? Gonna cum on my cock?”

You nodded into his neck, all you could manage was a whimper, “Yes… can- can i?”

“Go ahead princess, cum on my cock… you deserve it,”

You bit down on the skin of his neck, trying to keep your head from throwing itself back. Peter stilled his hips, filling you up with his seed while keeping you close, sighing as shot up into you. You sunk into his body, your breath hot against his skin while you regained your energy, snuggling closer for comfort.

In the silence that followed, Peter couldn't help but chuckle.

“Round two then?”

...

“Soo,” Peter whispered softly, crawling back into the sheets and lying besides you, “Why the pillow fort,”

You cuddled closer to his bare chest, letting out a soft breath once your cheek made contact with the warm skin. No matter how cold the air around him got, you could always count on your boyfriend to be your own personal heater.

“Was feelin’ lonely,” you mumbled, letting out a big yawn, “And I got bored,”

Peter chuckled, running his hand down your bare back sending shivers up your spine, “It’s nice, comfortable,”

“Yeah, I did a pretty good job didn’t I?” You smiled, curling your legs around his, “Took me three tries to get it right,”

“Three tries?”

“Well my college dorm doesn't really have much stuff to work with now does it,” you looked up at him with hooded eyes, blinking slowly while jabbing your finger into his left peck drowsily, “Would’ve been easier if my boyfriend came earlier though,”

“I thought you liked that I lasted long-”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“That’s not what you said a few minutes ago,” He laughed when you smacked his chest, placing a sweet peck to your forehead as an apology, “And I’m sorry for being late, got caught up with some bad guys and well… you know the drill,”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” You hid your face in his neck, snuggling in closer to his body, “Shouldn’t you be back at the house by now?”

He sighed. Harry had asked him to help out with cleaning up the house for your hopeful arrival in the next couple of days. Him and the rest of the boys planned out the week already, and today’s plan was to fix up the place and set new rules that kept it that way. But seeing you lying besides him, glowing like an angel by his side... words couldn't describe the emotions he felt in that moment. All he knew was that he couldn't wait, he felt like he waited long enough.

That this could be the perfect, special moment he hoped for.

“They could survive without me for one night,” His hand tightened around you, “I- uh, actually came here to ask you about something until we got... well, distracted,” he laughed lightly. 

You hummed, acknowledging his statement and urging him to continue.

“I was wondering if you would want to move in with me?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” you sat up on your elbow to look at him directly, “You’re saying you want me to- you want us to live together? With everyone?”

You felt Peter clam up under your palm, biting his lip as he avoided your gaze, “I mean, you’ve already met everyone and they all love you, probably way more than me. And I can’t you know, guarantee your safety here not to mention i have to disable all the cameras around the block if i want to swing into your window and, and-” he took a deep breath, taking your face in his hands, “That and I really love you, and I would love to take this step with you, only if you want to,”

You immediately engulfed up into a tight hug, awkwardly fitting yourself in his hold but you could hardly care about your uncomfortable position.

“Of course I would move in with you peter,” you smiled, pulling back to look at him, “Honestly, I’m growing tired of this small place anyways,”

“Good, that’s good,” he bit his lip, trying to suppress the urge to screech at the top of his lungs at the thought of your ever saying yes, “We- we’d sort all of this out in the morning,”

“Of course, of course,” you nudged your nose against his, “In the morning,”

Before he could lean in to kiss you, he heard something fall on the floor with a thud and without warning the sheets above you fell, slapping the both of you in the face.

“Maybe chairs with wheels wasn't the best choice for this,” you giggled, pushing up the sheets from your head.

“You think?” Peter joked along with you, helping to get rid of fabric blocking your eyesight.

He witnessed the blanket being pulled off of you, relieving your glowing skin and bright smile staring back at him. He knew he was taking the right step with you, he knew that you were the one for him because with a simple look or touch you made him a complete mess. He was wrapped around your finger just as much as you were around his.

And he couldn't be happier.

“To the bed?” he whispered.

“To the bed.” you responded, finally locking your lips on his, sealing in your love in the now fallen pillow fort.

...

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[tipsydipsydo]

Birthday Gift [M] 

Pairing: octopus hybrid! Jimin x human! Reader x octopus hybrid! Seokjin

Gender of the Reader: female

Word Count: 1.2k 

Rating: 18+

Genre: Smut/PwP

Warnings: Dirty Language + Dirty Talk; Sex Toys; Masturbation; Double Penetration; Anal play; Oral (f.); Exhibitionism + Voyeurism; slight Overstimulation; Strength-/Power-Play; Praising; Petnames; Orgasm Denial; Teasing; Edging; Tentacle-Play; Jimin has a tentacle tongue...

A/N: Finally it’s done! That’s my sweet and short Birthday-Gift for my dear friend @breadoffoxy and I hope you like it Baby~ I’m so sorry that it took me so long!! But I’ve finally written it and I really hope that I ruined you at least a little with it!

Status: unedited

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「© tipsydipsydo」

This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Thank you.

Within a single second your whole face, your ears and even your neck burns in the color of beet red and you have some struggles to gulp properly. Quickly you turn the package around and put the ripped wrapper over it, looking around in your silent and empty apartment. Even though you alone at home and Jimin is already at work... you’re panicking that someone would see you with such an obscene object, too embarrassed to even look at it. You literally expected everything... just not that. Not such a gift with such a comment in the card he wrote. 

Today is your birthday and you was more than exited to know what your Boyfriend Jimin got you for your first shared birthday, especially after he teased you for weeks with subtle hints. The little comments he dropped here and there made you with every new day more curious but you couldn’t connect the details with another. At the end of the day you didn’t knew anything new except the fact you’d die out of curiosity before your birthday arrive.

Now ‘the day’ of all days finally arrived and you are flustered beyond belief, in fact a little mortified somehow. Despite all of the shame you sense, there is arousal pooling between your legs. You can’t resist the urge to pull the damaged wrapper away and to look at your gift once again. Almost automatically your front teeth are gnawing on your bottom lip and the slowly growing ball of lust makes itself noticeable in the pit of your stomach. Yeah, Jimin makes definitely sure you’ll enjoy yourself and keep your needs satisfied. 

In front of you, on the surface of the table lays a new tentacle dildo which is still wrapped in the hygiene plastic bag. It’s a little bigger than the one you already own and has a slightly different coloring. Your boyfriend knows how much you love that toy, integrated it more than once in a play session and learned quickly how to use it to drive you completely insane. One time you quietly mentioned that you wish you’d have the money to purchase a second dildo of this type... you have a weak spot for double penetration and the unique texture of the toy made you almost addicted to it. 

‘Happy birthday, my Darling! 

I hope you enjoy your day off and that you like the first gift I’ve got you for your birthday~ ;) 

I’d love to see you using the toy and his sibling when I come home from work... would you do that for me? It’s essential for the next presents I’ve organized for you. 

Love, Jimin’ 

Oh god... you don’t even dare to imagine what Jimin have planned for you, it sounds so delicious yet so unholy and sinful. You have no Idea how you’ll survive the night after he gave you those instructions. 

~ 

You’re so lost in your own pleasure that you didn’t even noticed that someone arrived and opened the front door, let alone that two figures are now standing in the door frame of the bedroom and watches you silently. 

The suction base of the smaller dildo is attached to the flat plastic panel you’ve bought some time ago to be able to use this toy without hands in bed as well. The length of the tentacle dildo is completely buried in your cute ass, your stretched out rim gripping the girth firmly and hold the toy in place. It’s so deep in you that your ass cheeks almost reaches the plastic surface, your feet and your back on the wall are supporting your body weight. 

Your birthday gift, the new and bigger tentacle, plunges into your tight pussy in a rapid pace and causes such beautiful and delicious squelching noises... so nasty and filthy. The big toy stretches you so wide open, up to the point that you are sure your pussyhole would gape if you’d take it out. Your arms are aching from the weight of the toy and the strength you have to put into the thrusts to make the friction really pleasurable. But all of this doesn’t stop you to pushes your own limits, this feeling of getting stuffed so fucking full with tentacle turns your brain to mush. You can’t think properly anymore, the only thought in your ruined brain is about cumming on these dildos so often until you pass out. 

“Oh Babygirl... I see, you followed my instructions like I said. Hmm, such a good girl you are for me. I think you’ve earned a reward, don’t you?”

Jimin’s teasing voice and his chuckles let you snap out of your lost thoughts, your eyes widen at the sight of Seokjin besides him. The taller man leans with crossed arms against the opposite of the door frame and smiles devilishly at you. His eyes are dark and full of lust and the thin fabric of his chinos aren’t hiding anything of his hard and aching boner. He’s showing you in a shameless manner what your little unintentional show did to him.

“Sweetheart, you can’t imagine how happy I was the moment I found out about your tentacle dildo... there are a few things I was worried to tell you about. You need to know, Seokjin and I are a little different to... normal humans. We have special abilities and features... we both are octopus! Hybrids. Besides our normal human limbs we own four other octopus arms and if we want to, we can show them off. What about we show them to you and make you feel even better with them? I’ll only accept those silicone tentacles for foreplay and self-pleasure now, is that clear? Now, get off of those toys and let us make you cum until you can’t scream anymore...”

You’re only able to nod, trying to process all of this with your mouth agape but they even let you collect one single logical thought. Pulling the toys out of you and remove the panel completely, Seokjin takes the place behind you instead. Then you can already feel very realistic, slippery tentacles wrapping themself around your thighs, opening your legs even further and holding you with a tight grip in your place. 

Jimin goes on his knees between your legs, eyes sparkling brightly in a color you’ve never seen before and his lips opens in a smirk. His tongue pokes out, only the form of the muscle reminds you of a human body part. The texture is completely different, has now a bumpy structure but looks kinda similar to Seokjin’s tentacles... slowly the certitude sinks in. It’s the fifth limb, one of Jimin’s tentacles. 

“I know how much you love to have my tongue between your legs, you have such an insatiable oral fixation, don’t you? What about we combine these two things with each other, getting tongue-fucked by my tentacle... hm? Spread those swollen pussy lips for me and show me how your greedy, gaping hole clenches around nothing. Expose your pussy for me.” 

These are the last words before Jimin drowned himself between your legs.