#you can’t save the world inside of your head // you think the prize waits for you think again! (elwin)

[anthologyoflucas]

When I talk about the clan and I mention kids, the clan takes in runaways and kids with no where else to go. Sometimes toddlers, usually teens but there are a lot of young adults. Elwin may be a trash can but he is protective of the younger kids and has rules with dire consequences about how they should be treated.

When Alya was in the clan, she was in charge of caring for the younger kids but now Thyme and Emilia do it in shifts.

Elwin won’t get violent with children. He might snap at them but he will apologize to them for it cause he’s “just stressed” once they’re teens they lose that protection from Elwin’s anger. He won’t directly harm them but he’s not as “nice”

He will hurt the teens if they try to escape the clan especially if they stole supplies. He’s more likely to yell and release them as long as they haven’t stolen from the clan but he might beat them before they go.

The kids fear him but try not to show it and trust Thyme and Emilia to keep them safe.

Thyme plays a motherly figure to them that Alya used to fill while Emilia has that sisterly vibe. She (and Alya) will take blame for something a kid did to keep Elwin from getting pissed off.

[bardsandchangelings]

Tag dump (Npcs)

You can’t save the world inside of your head // you think the prize waits for you think again! (Elwin)

Among the roots and baby’s breath // I covered us with silver leaves! (Thyme)

Strong as the steel we carry // we rise like the sun! (Marcus)

Family Ties; You’re standing as tall as a tree as thick as a lie can be // a sappy sickly story // I can’t listen anymore! [Elwin & Thyme]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

No Time This Time 10

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon and other elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You prize order and practicality but your past, and newest client, throw your life into chaos. (older [~50s] reader)

Character: Tony Stark

Notes: Don't even mention how long this update took. I mean it.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like Tony loves his own voice. Take care. 💖

A yellow cab pulls up and the window rolls down. You near warily and the door swings out. Matt sticks his cane out before he steps through, ducking his head lower than needed. He stands and you click closer on your low-heeled leather boots. 

"Hey," you call to him, "right here, Murdock." 

"Told ya, Matt's fine," he smiles in your direction and waves his arm, hitting his hand on the car door, "shall we?" 

"I'm dying for a drink," you eagerly step past him and dip into the backseat. 

“Hope you don’t mind, I was thinking somewhere that doesn’t feel like a cult,” he kids as he follows you in. 

“Not at all. I’ve been to some dives in my day. Probably the most fun I’ve had,” you click the seat belt into place and sigh. 

“I thought you were out of town,” he says as he feels around for the buckle. 

“Was.” 

“And...” 

“Family emergency,” you answer. 

“Ah, hope I’m not keeping you from that,” he replies. 

“You’re saving me from it, trust me.” You cross one leg over the other and peer out at the city lights. 

You’re uneasy. It’s not the spontaneity or even the fact that your mother is in the hospital and you have a thousand things to worry about. It’s more than that. You aren’t read to be back in New York. The glare of a red light twinges in your chest, hinting at the reason why. 

“You alright?” He asks, breaking the silence. 

“Uh, yeah, jet lag. Sorry.” 

“I’ll try not to keep you out too late.” 

“Just try to make me go home,” you challenge.  

He chuckles and it eases your nerves. Just enough to get through the lull of traffic. He tells the driver to slow down and let you out on the corner. He pays and sidles out. 

You follow and he taps around. He guides you to a bar with a dingy yellow sign. The furor from inside beckons to you. It’s somewhere you can fade into the background, even if your tweed sweater might make you stick out like a blackeye. 

He tells you to find a table. You do and announce you’ll be in the corner. He assures you he can find you. You can’t help but admire how he moves through the world so effortlessly. You have your sight and can admit you’ve felt lost in the city rush. 

You sit and wait patiently. Your phone vibes incessantly. You don’t look at the messages before you set it to Do Not Disturb. Your mother has doctors, the best care you can afford, and your sister can handle a few hours without tagging you in. Whoever else may be bothering you can wait. 

Matt approaches with two pints, his can hugged beneath his elbow. You watch him in amazement. He kicks around with his fit until he finds the chair. He puts down one glass, then the other, and his can clatters to the floor. He retrieves it without missing a beat. 

He sits by your shoulder and laughs, “I may have had a few before I came.” You laugh at his joke. He leans his cane against the table and reaches for his glass. He lifts it, “cheers. Hope you don’t mind a bit of lager.” 

“I won’t turn my nose up at a free drink,” you clink his glass. “Especially with a good looking young man.” 

He snorts, “not that young.” 

“Oh no?” 

“I know what I’m doing,” he affirms and takes a swig. You taste the thin foam. It isn’t the worst brew you’ve tasted. 

“I could never doubt your expertise. A young and upcoming graduate. Isn’t that what the paper wrote?” 

“It’s been a while,” he evens his tone and turns his head towards you. “You wanna take the edge off and I wanna take your panties off. I think we could make a deal.” 

As crass as his suggestion is, you can appreciate his pointed approach. Your cheek burn like they haven’t in years. It’s been some time since a man didn’t make you feel anything but rage or disgust. 

“I’m sure we can come to acceptable terms,” you extend your arm and hesitate. Suddenly you’re very afraid. You hover your hand before you make yourself clamp down on his thigh. 

He sits back and drapes his arm on your chair as he grins and takes another drink, “you’ll have no objections from me.” 

👜

The moonlight beams through the large square window panes, refracting off the silhouette of writhing bodies. The silver glow slats over Matt’s shoulders as he bends his head over your chest and nuzzles between your tits. You could blame the beer or the stress or a number of things but there’s no shame in you. You want this. 

A cluster unfurls in your chest. A sensation completely new to you. You’re giddy. This man, this handsome, younger man, hasn’t let up for a single moment. He’s matched your energy every step of the way. The tension chains you together, locking you in the tunnel vision of sheer desire. 

It might help that he can’t see you. That even with the sheen of moonlight limning your figure, he won’t notice the rippled lines around your hips and thighs, are the extra crinkles around your eyes.  

He slips his hands beneath you and you arch your back as he unhooks your bra. He’s more agile in the release than any man you’ve been with. You could chalk it up to his familiarity with working without seeing but there’s a confidence in his movement that assures you it’s more than that. 

You moan and close your eyes as he drags the bra down your arms and frees your chest. Your tits aren’t as perky or tight as they once were. None of you is. There’s a soft layer that covers every inch of you; arms, chest, stomach, legs. His hands worship it as if you’re a goddess in the flesh. 

You shiver and hook your hand around his head as he takes your nipple in his mouth. The pressure tweaks and draws another sigh from you. He swirls his tongue around the beaded bud and you clutch his head tighter. 

His other hand tickles along your side and follows the line of your pelvis. He brushes up and down as if savouring the feel of you. You run your fingers along his shoulder, muscles hard beneath your touch. He guides your panties down your legs and untangles them from your ankles before setting back to his mission. 

He dotes on you, nosing you, nibbling, and nuzzling. He sucks and teethes, groaning as he reaches between your legs. He grazes along your lips and you shake, tensing then easing into him. You comb your fingers through his hair and caress his shoulder as he descends your body. 

He kisses along your stomach, goosebumps prickling in his stead. His lip brush along your pelvis and you arch your back with a gasp. Your fingers curl as his soft tresses flow between them. You bring your hand up to clutch at your chest as his breath fogs between your thighs. 

He presses a lip to the tender flesh. He trails up to your groomed triangle and traces the crease of your pelvis. He pushes against you with his nose and pokes his tongue out to taste between your folds.  

He flutters his fingers up your leg and flicks along your entrance. You twitch as he laps at you long and slow. He hums in delight and encircles your clit with his lips. He sucks and gently rolls your bud between his teeth. You moan louder as he inches his finger into you. 

He pushes down to his first knuckle and pulls back out. He repeats the motion as you quiver desperately. He sinks in to his limit and wiggles his finger as he rocks his head. He drinks you up as he draws his hand back again and lines up a second finger. 

He delves into you as his mouth enthralls you. You writhe, legs bending, feet arching, breath trembling. You can’t get enough. You put your hands around his head and urge him on. You rock your hips in time with him. 

You huff and heave, mewling and moaning. You push your chest up and drone as your climax blooms. Slow at first. Creeping along your thighs and stomach before flooding into your core. You squeal as your defenses shatter. 

He wipes his lips along your pelvis and trails over your hip. His breath is shallow as he raises himself on his knees. He hooks his thumbs in the elastic of his briefs and tugs them down. His dick bobs out, rigid and wanting, all for you. He wants you. 

You push yourself up on one elbow and reach for him. You pump him as he lets out a startled noise. You toy with him, stroking as you bring yourself up. You roll your thumb around his tip and he spasms. He catches your hand, stopping you. 

He reaches for the waiting condom. He stretches it over himself as he gazes down at you. You’re happy you can’t see his face, that he can’t see all of you. 

His other hand comes up behind your head and he pulls you into kiss him. You’re reticent as your lips meet. You don’t want that. You just want to fuck but it’s nice. You won’t spoil the moment. 

As his tongue pokes along your lips, your chest plucks. Your eyes pop open and you grip him tighter. A memory flickers in your head. He pulls back to look at you and you release him. You shake out your fingers as your knuckles ache. 

“Hey...” he whispers. 

“I’m fine,” you cup beneath his dick and squeeze his balls, “just fuck me.” 

You move on your knees and he sits on the mattress. You climb over his lap as you tease him and rub him against your wet cunt. He frames your hips with his hands and groans. You put him against your cunt and sheath him in your walls. You shudder and clasp onto his thick arm. 

He feels along your side and chest as you settle onto him. You keep your face down and eyes closed. He hooks his hand around your lower back as you start to rock, your clit rubbing on his pelvis as you start your deliberate motion. 

You slide your hand behind his neck and pull him closer. He buries his head between your tits and slips down to grope your ass. He guides you, groaning and growling as you ride him. 

Another strike of fear courses through you and you recoil. Before he can react, you push him onto his back and he grunts in surprise. You pin him with your hand on his chest and roll your hips. You moan through your teeth. 

You want this. You want him. It’s not like it was. Don’t think about that. Don’t think about him. 

You bite your lip and dig your nails into his muscle. His rocky voice wafts into the air as he keeps a hand on your chest, his other on your thigh. You puff as you speed up. 

“Mmm, oh, you’re so good,” he breathes. “Mmm, god.” 

“Yeah,” you push your hand up to his shoulder as your other snakes down between your legs, “not too bad yourself.” 

“Fuck,” he snarls. “Ah, wow, I... this is... ahhhhh.” 

You grit your teeth and roll your eyes back. You play with your clit as the tension builds, coiling around your fingertips, mounting as the friction turns to fire. You babble as you chase your orgasm. You cum but don’t stop.  

You have to keep going. You need to cling to this feeling. A rare moment of bliss breaking through the stony sharpness of your everyday existence. The one time you’re not trapped behind that icy wall. You are enshrined in the licking flames of your need. 

He cups your ass as he eggs you on, muttering your name between airy moans. You buck hard, clapping down on him even as your bones aches. More, more, more. 

You climax again. You can’t stop. You rip your hand away and slap it down on his other shoulder. You keep him at your mercy. 

He grunts and lurches you suddenly. He rolls you over and pins you beneath him. He ruts into you, shaking the bed, crushing you into the mattress. 

The ecstasy turns to panic as your chest constricts. You claw at his shoulders as your eyelids paint another seen inside. The metal walls of the elevator, the tickle of a coarse goatee, the taunting laughter. 

Matt goes rigid and twitches as he reaches his peak. He eases his motion and exhales as he lowers his weight onto you. He rests his head beside your shoulder as you lay limp. You feel the pulsing behind your eyes, that heat that threatens to break through. 

Your hand shakes and you touch his side. 

“Let me up,” you whisper. 

“Hm?” he shifts slightly. 

“Let me up,” you demand, your usual sternness taking over. 

He slides out of you and pushes off. You’re up in an instant, staggering around the dark and into the bathroom. You slam the door and hide on the other side. You stand in the blackness but can see your shadowy reflection. You growl at it and throw your hands up. 

You are not doing this. You’re fine. You’re fine! 

You can’t not be fine. 

[missdawnandherdusk]

The Verdict

Draco x Reader

The Case The Defendant The Witness

The Auror The Confession The Deceased

Summary: The case was gathered... now it was time to defend it.

A/N: AHAHAHAHAA i'm so sorry for this one

“Well.” Dr. Dresden said. “I’m impressed.” 

My heart was racing as I just laid out everything I had discovered the past month. It was all before us on his old maple wood desk. Every piece of evidence that Draco Malfoy was innocent. My most recent prize: Snape’s wand ballistics that have the killing curse casted the night of Dumbledore’s death. And a confession from both Draco and Harry that Snape was there that night. 

“You are?” The crushing weight of his expectations that hovered like a dark cloud finally dissolved from my psyche. 

Dr. Dresden rose an eyebrow at me. I nodded, knowing it was a stupid question. 

“Well, that is all I need from you. Consider yourself passing my course.” 

I sat up straighter, not believing the words I was hearing. 

“Oh thank you professor,” Relief washed through me. “When is the trial date? Or will you let me know?”

“You must be mistaken. You do not get to see this trial in court.” 

I froze. 

“I—I don’t?” 

“You have a witness statement in this case. You do not get to defend it yourself in court. I will.” He said, matter of factly. 

“I—I don’t understand. I just spent the last month building this case—I just proved a guilty man innocent! And now you’re telling me I don’t get to present it in court!” I stood, rage tearing through me. “How do I know—“ I stopped myself before I said something really stupid.

“How do you know what, Miss Y/l/n?” Oh, he was angry too. 

“Nothing professor. I apologize. Thank you,” I bowed my head. 

“Do you not have faith in your court case? In the evidence you gathered? Do you think you are a better lawyer than I am?” He stood as well. “That I cannot acquit Mr. Malfoy the same as you?” 

“No, I—I misspoke. Again, I apologize.” 

“You’re free to go.” He said, sitting down arrogantly. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anxiety ate me up inside as I waited outside the courtroom. I had to at least warn Draco that I wasn’t going to defend his case. If he was unbalanced it could throw the whole case. 

My leg bounced as I sat on a little bench, dwarfed by the giant marble pillars and walls that were as cold as the world I wanted so desperately to get into. 

“You’re wearing that?” Draco judged my more casual outfit, drawing my attention from my anxieties. 

“What? No—yes.” I fumbled out, standing. “I’m not your defender.” 

Draco paused, the color draining from his face. “What?” He bit out. 

“Dresden is going to defend your case.” I glanced to the court room doors. “I—I have a witness statement in it. I—I can’t. Besides the evidence is there… it… it’s gonna be fine.” 

“Over my dead body,” Draco seethed, storming toward the doors. 

“No, Draco wait!” I grabbed his hand. “There’s a solid case. And… Dresden’s a better lawyer than me. I… just let him do it.” My gaze dropped to our hands intertwined. It felt nice. 

“No.” Draco said firmly, squeezing my hand. “Y/n, I don’t want to be free if you’re not arguing my case.” 

“Draco—“ tears welled in my eyes. “Please… you need to be free and I need to pass… I—I… please just keep the peace,” 

“You were the only one who ever believed that I was innocent. I want you there to defend me.” His grey eyes tore apart my soul. “You’re defending my court case.”

“Draco… look this is noble but—I can’t make an enemy of Dresden.” 

“And he shouldn’t make an enemy of a Malfoy,” Draco said cooly. His gaze softened as he met mine. “I’ll work it out.” 

“How?” I asked weakly, but his hand was gone from mine as I entered the courtroom like a man on a mission. 

Dread threatened to swallow me whole. I aperated from the courtroom and to an open field needing space for the despair that swirled around me.  

What had I just done? 

.

The Innocent

.

masterlist

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[giantbonfirestars]

A World Left Behind

The Guardian Force are now letting everyone leave Starlight after having forced them to stay for much longer than anyone had planned.

But now everyone is free to return home. Mostly everyone

OR

What I think happens after the season 6 finale of Mystreet and how everyone copes with what happened.

Chapter 1: Returning home

Zane stepped out of the cab alongside his older brother, Garroth. The others shouldn’t have been too far behind him. Or at least, those who weren’t injured too badly and were actually able to return home.

Their trip had been expanded much longer than they had planned due to the Guardian Force forcing everyone to stay on the island. While most people took the extra time to enjoy the luxuries on the island. Zane and the others spent it in hiding.

The Lycan family were being hunted down by the GF. While technically Zane didn’t need to get involved, he wasn’t going to abandon his friends when they needed him most.

Sure, he’s paying for it now. He can’t remember many of his friend’s names, even his girlfriend’s, but if he had the chance to go back in time, he would do it all over again.

Okay, maybe not all, but he still wouldn’t abandon the others.

He'll admit, there was a time in the past where he would have left them if it meant saving himself, but he's changed, he's not that person anymore.

Zane and Garroth approached their house. Laurence was sure to ask them loads of questions about the trip and why they took so long to get back. But right now, Zane just wanted to go and collapse on his bed and take a well-deserved nap, surrounded by his prized pony collection.

But there was no way that was going to happen.

As the two brothers walked up to the house, Laurence burst through the door while they were still only halfway up the drive way.

Laurence practically tackled Garroth into a hug, causing him to drop his suit case. When Laurence pulled away, he was smiling brightly. “Thank goodness you guys are back! I don’t think I could have handled Dante by myself any longer.”

Garroth chuckled at that. “What? You don’t know what he’s been like while you were gone. He’s been talking to pillows with your faces sown onto them.”

Garroth stopped laughing. Both he and Zane just stared at Laurence, waiting for some kind of context. But it never came. Zane made a mental note to ask more about it later.

“So, why did you guys spend an extra month on what was supposed to be a 2-week long vacation?!”

“Now that is a long story? We should probably head inside before we get started on that.” Garroth rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

The sound of a car stole all of their attention. Another cab had pulled up and parked across the street. Katelyn, Seven, and Four got out. Zane frowned to himself at the fact that he could only remember Katelyn’s name. He would worry about that later though.

While Katelyn and Seven grabbed the luggage, Four ran over to the group of boys standing on their driveway.

“Zane!” She shouted excitedly, forcing him into a hug.

“H-hey!” He said, returning the hug.

“Uh, did I miss something?” Zane was abruptly reminded of Laurence’s presence, and the fact that he didn't know they were dating. Four pulled herself out of the hug and turned to him. “Hey Laurence!” her voice was filled with so much joy and innocence. It would have been impossible to tell that her body still ached from the large scar that now tainted her torso. She had got it trying to protect him, and he may not have been the one to inflict the injury, but he couldn’t help but feel responsible for her pain.

Laurence was staring at the pair, visibly confused. Zane almost thought he was forcing it for the sake of humor. Four just kept smiling in his direction, while Zane gave him an unimpressed look. It might have been hard to tell considering the mask he wore and the hair that fell over his messed-up eye, but the quarter of his face that was visible should have worked well enough to send the message.

Laurence just continued with his confused stares. Garroth then spoke up, breaking the silence that had come with Four’s arrival, “They started dating while we were on the island.”

Laurence’s eyes went comically wide. “Him, and- and her?”

His pointed finger was going back and forth between the two as he tried to process the information. “But she’s so sweet! And he’s so,” Laurence attempted to make an angry face in the weirdest way he possibly could. Zane just rolled his eyes at him.

“I know! It surprised me at first too. But they’re actually very cute together.” Garroth said, putting his hand on Laurence’s shoulder.

“Seriously though, Zane and KC? Did not see that one coming.”

Zane looked over to Four, the girl he loved. He knew he loved her, yet he didn’t know her name. He tried to imagine her with the name KC, but it just didn’t fit. Maybe it was nickname he didn’t remember, and that’s why he couldn’t picture her with that name. He could try to call her KC, but it just didn’t feel right. He would just keep calling her what he knew her as until he could figure out her name.

“Yeah, yeah, I know how you feel.” Zane gave his brother a glare at that. Garroth raised his hands in surrender, a goofy look on his face.

“We could use some help over here!” The group turned to see who had shouted. It was Katelyn, holding both Four’s and her own luggage. Seven wasn’t anywhere to be seen, so he figured she must have gone back to her house with her own bags.

“Sorry!” Four shouted, running off to help her friend. Leaving Zane alone with the idiot duo.

He turned back to face the pair. “So, can I go unpack or are you gonna keep asking me stupid questions about my love life?”

Laurence gave him a look, Zane wasn’t exactly clear what message it was supposed to send, but it was a look either way. Garroth looked over to Laurence, “We really should unpack.”

Laurence sighed in defeat, “fine” he said, dragging out the i.

In the past, Garroth would have joined Laurence in making fun of him, but they’ve been trying to build a better relationship after everything that’s happened.

Garroth picked up his suitcase and the three boys headed inside of the house. Zane never thought he would say it, but he missed this place. He dragged his bags up the stairs and headed for his room.

It looked untouched for the most part, so he dropped his bags on the floor and collapsed onto the bed. He knew he wouldn’t be able to fall alseep, but he could at least try to get some rest before the others came looking for him.

Zane took off his mask and let out a sigh. He needed this.

Well I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!

I started writing this before a season 7 was announced but that doesn't really matter when it comes to fanfiction anyway!

Not sure when the next chapter will come out, some time soon since the first 6 are prewritten though

[river-bottom-nightmare]

an (incomplete) list of things kon can do because lex luthor is his dad that people always forget about:

#1 : math - he's fifteen, and math comes easy to him (unlike a lot of people his age, or at least, his visible age.) a lot of things come easy to him, because when you have all knowledge in the known universe downloaded into your brain, things like advanced math don't bother you very much.

but it bothers his friends, because bart loses interest about three seconds into the assignments, cassie groans anytime "homework" is brought up in general, and tim hates the concept and execution of math so much that he'd rather hide in kon's room where he thinks no one will look for him instead of even cracking open a textbook.

but kon's pretty sure being a hero means you don't need any real world skills, and after his initial hesitation and disagreements, he realized that he genuinely wants these people to like him, to be friends with him. their math homework is easier than a breeze to complete.

#2 : tying a tie the ~fancy~ way - he's nineteen, and his fingers flow through a silk tie like a fish through water. the motions are beyond familiar, he could do them in his sleep. so is the action of pulling on a suit, pressing his collar, arranging his hair into a neat style. he's timothy drake-wayne's date tonight, and he needs to look the part. fortunately, luthor taught him how to look the part a long the ago.

the party itself is,,,,pleasant, he supposes. he spends most of the time as arm candy, tim's pretty little thing as his boyfriend sweet-talked investors and networked. but they both know that the tipsier people are, the easier they let slip secrets to someone they believe won't understand them, and kon gathers a wealth of information by the time he meets up with tim by the appetizer bar right before dinner.

tim tugs him close by his tie and kisses his cheek, then laughs when kon discreetly but disgustedly spits out the pickled salmon cracker toppings.

#3 : educated debating - he's sixteen, and in an argument with tim that's gone so off the rails that kon can't even remember what they were fighting about in the first place. wherever they started, they were here, now, kon on top of a table in an ice cream parlour screaming about how a socialist approach to taxes would boost the lower class, tim on top of a barstool screaming right back about how the middle class are the only ones paying taxes and socialism would only put more weight on their shoulders.

both of them are this close to busting out laughing, and the only reason they haven't been thrown out is because the employee behind the counter is frantically taking notes. kon can see it in tim's eyes, see the way the younger boy didn't expect to hold such a passionate and intense debate with him, didn't expect kon to be capable of it. it's a pleasant surprise, though; that much is evident in tim's barely-hidden grin.

the debate comes to a pause when bart smacks him with a spoon and tells him off for stepping on the speedster's ice cream, and the tiredness with which he collapses back into the booth is a good one.

#4 : efficient + effective workplace supervision - he's twenty, and wondering how in the hell people hadn't murdered the entirety of young justice when it was first founded. bart had graduated to being the flash's full time sidekick, and though he came to visit often, it wasn't the same. gotham was almost always on the verge of imminent disaster these days, and tim was one of the few ropes holding it together. kon missed him like crazy, but his few visits were all the boy could spare. cassie was in charge now, and she was a wonderful leader, but busy, always smoothing over relations between the team and the justice league and civilian offices.

so, somehow, that left kon to be the den mother to all the new younger kids, and somehow, kon was good at it. he knew exactly what to say to get people to listen to his commands, telling them to work on this or work on that, train for this and practice that. he tells them when to get some sleep and let the weight of the day roll off their shoulders, and when to push themselves to raise them higher than they ever thought they could go. unexpectedly, he finds himself liking it.

#5 : the splits

#6 : colour schemes + interior decorating - he's twenty-one, and tim's finally deciding to turn the nest into a home. bart, who had spent the last couple of years bouncing between allen-west-mercury households and was therefore accustomed to a home with a fire of love reaching every corner and every member of the family, was appalled. so was kon, honestly.

the penthouse that tim worked out of was cold and impersonal, sleek lines that angles that matched the limbs and contours of tim's body. but the shadows around tim's eyes had lessed over the past few years, his smile coming to his lips almost as easy as when young justice first learned how to work together. all it took was a little encouragement from cassie, and suddenly, all four of them were involved in a home renovation project.

cassie churned out ikea furniture like it was nothing, the three of them taking a break from their jobs to just watch her as she lifted one of their hardwood bookshelves with one hand. bart bought home goods and essentials from various department stores and ran around, stocking the house with them wherever he felt a saucepan needed to be hung (near the coat hanger) or a candle holder needed to be placed (on the kitchen barstools, because apparently those were decorative anyway).

kon, meanwhile, decorated. he painted rooms and bought curtains and pillows, yes. but he also sorted through every single souvenir and memory the four of them had managed to accumulate over the years, photographs and hacked-off pieces of giant robots and saved movie tickets and broken weapons. he gets his hands on everything he can find, then fills up tim's nest until it's brimming with a cosy warmth made up of the four of them.

still, it's an obnoxiously large penthouse, so there's empty and open space left over even after redecorating. it's tim who takes a breath and works up the courage to tell them, not ask but tell them, that he wanted each of them to have their own bedroom. so bart takes the largest guest room and turns it into an explosion of colour, and cassie spends too much time decorating a room that she won't even live in most of the time. kon conspicuously notes how tim doesn't bother giving kon a room, just dumps kon's backpack on his bed and clears room in his own closet. he does wrap tim in a ttk hug though, from all the way across the room, and drinks in tim's red flush.

#7 : speed reading (no powers) - he's seventeen, and just now realizing how competitive his best friends are. cassie had long since resigned herself to being the judge and the hander-outer-of-prizes (candy from the nearest convenience store) for the speed-reading competition, but tim, kon, and bart were still in the running.

eventually, though, the pressure from holding back his powers grew too strong, and bart slumped against the back of the sofa, mournfully opening his mouth so cassie could drop a candy into it.

and then there were two.

kon thought back to the confrontation that had started this contest in the first place, robin's offhand comment about how he had to be the one to collect the data files from the company office they were infiltrating, because he was the only one who could speed-read and retain information. that had spiraled into an argument, then a challenge, then a competition, with a clear rule not to use any powers.

kon darted his eyes across the page, soaking up every word, the pages like tiny knives on the pads of his fingers as he turned them. he lost track of the page count, just reading and reading and reading until he tried to turn the page and realized there wasn't a next one. he yelled in triumph, reveling in tim's defeated groan, and settled in for cassie's quiz on the contents of the book.

#8 : sophisticated meal and wine palette - he was twenty-two, and discovering that he really, really liked tim's shocked face. they'd been friends for years now, childish hatred turned into playful bantering turned into knowing each other inside out. still, every now and then, kon did something that forced tim's eyebrows high on his head, his eyes widening just the barest bit.

right now, kon was at a dinner party with the words moral support written across his forehead. tim could handle himself remarkably well, but there was tiredness lacing the smaller boy's frame, and kon could practically see the way the tips of his soul were frazzled. so kon let tim lean into his arm and whispered jokes about luna-with-the-big-ugly-purse and martonio-who-can't-do-a-combover into his ear. or, at least, he was.

somehow he'd been drawn into a good natured argument with the man sitting just two seats down from tim and kon. friendly opinions of food had been tossed back and forth, growing more and more heated until kon looked him right in the eye and said he liked prosecco with his prosciutto, internally crowing with satisfaction at their shocked silence and sighing with pity that none of the guests here would ever try that combination out of fear of deviation. once the man had regained his sensibilities, he shot back, saying the sixth course should never serve salmon, instead regaling the fish to the amusebouche or the cheese course. kon snorted and told him fish itself was going out of style, and if he wanted to impress guests at the next dinner party he hosted, he should try serving octopus.

tim's shocked face was a pleasant surprise, but seeing the stunned, controlled blinks of everyone around him as they realized he wasn't just a pretty face was satisfying as well. even more satisfying was when he and tim said their goodbyes; while waiting for the valet, tim pressed up onto the tips of his toes and whispered promisingly in kon's ear, i fucking love your competence.

#9 : manipulating people into hating him to justify his actions - he was eighteen, and he was screaming, crying, tearing his hair out. kon didn't know what he had expected. lingering fondness? grudging acceptance? maybe a small leap for a chance at love?

it didn't matter. clark didn't want anything to do with him. and he was eighteen now, which meant clark didn't need to take care of him anymore, didn't need to pretend to pay attention to him anymore. he'd made it quite clear.

maybe that was why he found himself hesitating before saying no to amanda waller's offer. he forgot about the warnings tim gave him, though, and waller pounced on that hesitation, quicker than a panther. it was easy, it was oh so easy to let himself go with her.

besides, they had a reason to hate him now. he hadn't done anything to clark. he hadn't asked to be made. but clark had wanted nothing to do with him anyway, and didn't that sting. so if people were going to turn him away now, it was going to be for something he did.

he didn't realize how bad he was spiraling, how close he was to stepping off the lighted ledge he'd been balancing on his entire life and tumbling into the darkness below. but cassie had a stronger punch than most grown superheroes, and bart had tenaciousness written into every strand of his ginormous hair, and tim gripped his jaw so hard his fingernails dug into kon's skin and told kon that he was getting his best friend back, no matter what the hell he thought he was worth.

maybe it was madness that made him throw himself forward, still wrapped in the lasso cassie borrowed from diana, practically mauling tim's lips with his own. he was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to break down crying after he kissed someone, given past experience, but the three of them, his wonderful, wonderful friends, just hugged him tight, let him fight and shake and sob until all the rage was gone. it was the first time in a long while he'd done something in hopes that someone would look at him with love, not hatred.

#10 : waltzing - he was twenty-three, twenty three and giddy with how much time he had left. conner was with tim drake-wayne publicly now, so expectations were thrust onto him, expecting to be met.

kon tended to have more fun at events than tim ever did. granted, kon didn't have to deal with all of his coworkers drinking too much and exchanging money with secrets faster than drugs and asking tim whether or not his relationship meant he was open for still-young and handsome men who needed just a small escape from their wives. but tim wasn't trying very hard to enjoy himself either.

so kon was completely justified in tugging him towards the center of the room, in a patch of floor sparsely occupied, then pulling him as close as he dared. tim's panicked whisper of what!? was overridden by kon's laughter, but he muffled his sounds for a minute, letting tim hear the quiet music playing in the background (prerecorded and playing on speakers, not live).

understanding broke over tim's face, and he arched into kon's hold as easy as breathing. kon moved one of his hands to grip tim's wrist, and he twirled the two of them effortlessly, breathless at tim's flabbergasted expression. the rhythm was simple, and tim caught on quickly. one two three, one two twist, one two three, one two step, one two three, one two switch, one two three, one two three.

kon couldn't say they danced the night away, because a little while later tim took a break for a drink, then speeches were made, then dinner was served. by then, they were both entirely too tired to dance, longing for just a bed and a soft blanket and each other. but for those few minutes in the middle of a packed yet empty ballroom, kon and tim did lose themselves in the music, just a little bit.

i don't know shit about taxes or socialism. this got way longer than anticipated whoops. i'm tagging this "long post," but if someone asks me to put it under a cut, i'd be happy to

also jesus christ this thing is almost 2.5k words. im uploading it to ao3 later if i'm in the mood

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridg @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy

[chiwhorei]

green scrunchies

pairing: dom!k. ukai x sub!fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, spanking, smoking, daddy kink, dom/ sub dynamics, brat taming, subspace, dirty talk, degradation, age gap(reader is 22ish and ukai is 26ish) spitting, fingering, oral (fem receiving), edging, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, a little dumification, public nudity (kinda), unprotected sex, tattoos (there’s a tattoo in a really unholy place), this is just filth okay

a/n: i have been sitting on the bulk of this piece for a fucking month and am honestly so surprised i finished it. this was inspired by a picture i saw of a really naughty tattoo and my mind want crazy and vomited on to a google doc.

hymn: nothing’s gonna hurt you baby by cigarettes after sex

“but today isn’t a day of honey-sweet ministrations.”

Ukai Keishin is a gentle man. The team of highschoolers he coaches, his friends, hell, even his mother would beg to differ. But they were not privy to the Keishin you know. The man that serenades you with Elvis Presley while cleaning up after closing the store, grabbing your waist and pulling you into a clumsy slow dance as his gravelly voice croons into your ear. 

He’s entrancing. Hypnotizing you, almost two years ago now, in the most tender pursuit possible, so softly you were unaware of falling deeply in love with him until you had already tipped completely over. Turning to an ink pen and scraps of receipt paper to flesh out the feelings he worried would not sound perfect when they hit your ears. To this day, you’re not entirely sure if he meant to leave the pages to his extemporaneous romance novel for you to find on purpose, but you have your suspicions.

You were in your second year of college when you met Keishin, only 20 years old at the time and clueless to any world outside of studying frantically from one exam to the next. Chasing after a degree you could pursue your dreams with and getting tattoos that would piss your parents off, you crashed into him, literally. 

While walking to class with practiced steps and flipping through a small stack of notecards, you frantically try to accomplish last minute cramming and making it to class promptly at the same time. With one final attempt to understand the scribbles in front of you, you take a sharp turn into a brick wall. A flurry of white papers thrown into the air and falling back down like snow.

It happened in a minute, a minute that held sixty of the longest seconds to ever pass; from the moment you smack your nose into his cemented chest to the moment he saves your head from kissing the ground below. “You need to watch where you’re going, kid.” He says with a cigarette pressed between his teeth. It all happened in that single minute, your soul escaping and crawling into his jacket pocket without even realizing. It’s been there ever since, for safekeeping, of course.

He’s perfect in every way. But just as he is soft and loving, Ukai is not one to take shit. Especially when his sweet, shy baby girl is being a raging brat. It’s like any normal fall afternoon, slightly chilly and crisp on your walk from class. The air is biting at your skin, but the temperature is not what sends a piercing shiver down your spine. You know that as soon as you get home, Ukai Keishin is going to ruin you. 

“What are you doing here, princess?” Your presence is made known with a soft ding from the bell above the door, but Ukai doesn't look up from his magazine when acknowledging you. 

“I live upstairs?” Your tone is light and playful. You decide to test the waters, wondering how much Keishin will let slide today.

“Don’t be dense, little one.” He graces you with his eye contact for the first time, “I know you have a Biology lecture on Friday afternoons. So, why is that cute little ass here instead of on campus?” His lips are pulled tightly in a thin line and he rakes his eyes down your body. You’re wearing a short pleated skirt and a baggie pull-over. Exactly what he picked out for you this morning. Well, almost exactly. He was already opening up the store by the time you woke up, so the clothes were placed neatly on his side of the bed. What he didn’t pick out though, were the stockings currently brandishing your mid thigh, cutting off the supple skin with the soft, black cotton. 

“Oh! My professor cancelled lecture today so I came home early to have lunch with my loving boyfriend.” You smile sweetly, dropping your backpack and rounding the corner of the counter he is sat at. Ukai hums softly- dismissively- and lights a cigarette, his eyes don’t give away any emotion, so you are left hanging off the end of the burning cherry. Has he caught on yet? Maybe the thigh-highs would be enough to distract from your real surprise. 

Before you can ruminate on the thought, a wide, kind smile spreads across his face. If you didn’t know any better, this smile would be comforting. Your boyfriend pats his lap, motioning for you to take a seat. You adjust yourself to fit snugly and lean into Keishin’s chest. He presses a chaste kiss to your temple and takes a drag from his cigarette. Customers trickle in slowly, and you stand a few times to ring up their purchases, always the dutiful girlfriend. Keishin watches you with adoration in between paging through a magazine, everything you did was so perfect, even if it’s just scanning a few groceries. Such a good girl you are. 

It’s not until you sit back down, and he adjusts your hips to settle back into him that he is made aware of the game you’re trying to play. And he is pissed.

“Princess, did you not like the clothes I picked out for you this morning?” He has fully caught on to you at this point, and you both know it, but he isn’t going to show you his hand quite yet. 

“Of course I did, Daddy.” You bury your burning cheek into his neck, letting the familiar smell of cologne and campfires calm your clambering heartbeat. 

“I see, then why are you wearing these…” Keishin’s voice trails off and pulls at the material of the thigh-highs, snapping it against your skin.  

“Actually,” he interrupts, “I have a more important question. But I need you to be a good girl and answer honestly.” Keishin whispers into the shell of your ear and nods a goodbye to the elderly man leaving the store. You two were alone now, the promise of other customers wandering in diminishing quickly with the time of day. 

“I’ll be a good girl Daddy.” You try to coat your words in velvet as best as you can, but Keishin scoffs, clearly unamused. 

“That’s rich, princess. Now tell me, did you go to campus this morning without panties on?” You knew the question he was going to pose, you could have even saved him the breath. You knew you were going to get caught, I mean, that is why you did it. But now, faced with having to atone for your sins, the confidence in your original actions was melting away. 

“I forgot to put panties on this morning, Daddy. I’m sorry.” You try to pout in the sweetest way possible, but Keishin knows. You’re lying through your teeth.

“Tsk, you forgot. How could you forget if I laid them right on top of your skirt this morning?” He fishes in his pocket and pulls out a damning article. As he moves the exhibit into evidence, light pink thong hanging off of fingers, you resolve that your little game was over long before you even tried to start. All you can do now is wait with baited breath and flushed cheeks for his next move. 

“Stand up princess.” Ukai grabs onto your hip bones and lifts you upward. He spins you around to face him and perches his elbows on his knees. “Show me what’s mine baby girl.” His request, his demand, rolls off the tongue like icicles. You know what he means, but still stare back dumbly, mouth wide at what he was insinuating.

“You know I don’t like repeating myself, little girl.” His words stir inside you. If he sees how wet you’re getting, you’re done for. There’s no escaping this moment though. You take a deep breath in a feeble fight against the suffocating feeling in your chest, and lift up the end of your short, black skirt so he can see you. All of you.

Your precious, sumptuous thighs now in his view. He studies the lines of the tattoos not covered with your stockings. Beautiful floral designs in delicate black ink. Keishin thinks the work you get done is always so beautiful. Every addition befitting you perfectly. He loves tracing the pads of his fingers over the art in softer moments. This moment though, was not soft, and the tattoos on your thighs were not the subject of Ukai’s attention. 

He flicks his eyes up to meet yours briefly, and trails down from your quivering bottom lip, to your delicate, freckled collarbones peering sweetly from your large sweater. He drags his darkening gaze down further, cherishing every inch until he reaches your hips. Nestled in between the apex of your thighs, in small, dainty writing lays his prize.

“My Daddy Will Kill You.”

No matter what you did, he would always be there, snugly under the second layer of skin. When his fingers weren’t intertwined in yours, when he couldn’t have a protective hand in your back pocket. Whenever he was away with his team for tournaments or just when you were in class. He was always on you.

“Such a gorgeous little cunt you have.” He leans back in his seat, watching you fidget under his stare, “Whose cunt is this, baby? Is it your classmates? Is it your professors?” You bow your head in shame at Ukai’s insinuation, you know that going to class with a bare ass and a short skirt was going to get you in trouble. How could you resist though, when the punishment always feels so good.

“You’ve been acting like a petulant brat recently. I’ve been letting things slide because I know how stressful your senior year of college has been.” His tone is exasperated, but his eyes are calm, level, dark, “I can’t ignore this, you know that right?”

“I know, Daddy.”

“Your class was cancelled. So that means we get to start the weekend early.” He pulls your hands from your skirt, letting it fall back into place and holds both of your hands in one of his much larger ones. “Go upstairs and sit on the bed. I want you in just your skirt and those cute little tights you were so keen on wearing. I’ll be up in a few minutes.” 

“But Daddy…” you really did like to test your luck sometimes, but the look he gives you, slightly shocked and more than lightly infuriated, was enough to make you hurry to the back and up the stairs to your shared apartment. You kick your sneakers off at the door and head straight to the bedroom. You pull the sweater over your head and unclasp your bra. Usually Keishin likes to do that step for you, savoring the way you shiver as he brushes the straps off of your shoulders, but today isn’t a day of honey-sweet ministrations. 

You tremble like a puppy as you wait for Ukai and almost jump out of your own skin when you hear the front door creek open. Usually you are met with a bellowing voice upon his entry, walking through the door with a hearty, “Honey, I’m home!” even if you had only walked in a few steps ahead. Now, all you can do is wait as he mulls about the apartment with lackadaisical intent and a deafening silence. After a few agonizing minutes and feeling like he made his point, Ukai finally appears in the doorway, arms folded and pressed tightly to his hard chest with a categorically sadistic smile on his face.

“So, you do know how to follow directions?” You gulp loudly and nod your head, but quickly correct yourself. If you don’t use your words you’ll make things worse for yourself. “Yes, Daddy. I know how to follow directions.” It’s not a lie, obviously you are aware of his rules, you just prefer breaking them. Your response is small compared to the loud, sarcastic laugh falling from his throat. Ukai steps towards you slowly. 

“You are such a little tease, I came up to kiss you goodbye this morning and found these still sitting on the bed.” He pulls the thong out of his pocket again and drops the lace into your lap. “You left them there because you wanted me to find them. You wanted me to know you were sitting in class with a bare cunt.” There’s no use trying to find an excuse to push past your locked jaw, because he’s not really asking a question. 

“I left them on purpose, Daddy. I’m sorry.” Your mea culpa is underwhelming to say the least, and you both know it. You may be pleading guilty to all charges, but you don’t seem eager for absolution. 

“You are such a little attention whore. My timid, darling girl has been acting like an insolent slut recently. What am I going to do with you?” His voice sounds questioning, but unmistakingly rhetorical. He’s known what he was going to do to you from the moment he spotted your panties weighing the bed down this morning.

“Turn around baby.” Ukai unbuckles his belt, and you turn away from him, tucking your legs to sit upright. He gathers your long h/c hair from where it was settled around your face and meticulously braids it to lay flat on your back, attaching the green scrunchy from his wrist to the bottom. 

Just like a calling card, Keishin always had a scrunchy of yours around his wrist. Whenever you are hunched over the kitchen table in the middle of writing a paper, he pulls your hair behind you and fastens it into a bun, careful to keep it loose so as to not invite a headache, and kisses the crown of your head. Regardless of where you are: shopping, date night, visiting him at practice, if he notices your hair becoming annoying he will slip it from your neck and twist it into the green scrunchy.

And when you are about to be punished, Ukai pulls your hair into a neat, low braid.

You feel him run his hands from your shoulders to your wrists, pulling them gently behind your back. He presses your palms together and gives them a squeeze so you know to keep them together. Ukai pulls off his shirt, and  frees his undone belt from his jeans, folding it in half and running the cool leather up your thigh. He swats softly at your skin, just enough to make you flinch. 

Ukai tosses the belt to the ground, deciding he would rather you feel the sting of his palm, and sits down next to you on the bed. You face him with your hands still laced together behind you and let him position you to lay across his lap. The side of your face and your shoulders lay flush against the bed and your ass is raised up above his jean-clad thighs. 

“You know the rules, right my love?”

“Yes, Daddy. If I lose count you have to start over.”

“There’s my smart girl. You look so beautiful like this.” He lands a smack on your right cheek, actions greatly contrasting his soft, almost taunting tone. “It’s such a shame you’ve been acting like such a whore.” 

He delivers slap after slap on your bruising ass and you count every one out to him, briefly considering what would happen if you stopped counting, but you know that your punishment is already going to be harsh enough. You’re a masochist, yes, but not an idiot. 

“Why do you always seem to be on your best behavior when I have you over my knee, darling?” Ukai connects his palm with your tender flesh again. “How many was that baby?” 

“Fifteen, Daddy.” You speak in an even tone, if your boyfriend catches on to how much more you like this than he already knows, you’re, quite literally, fucked. 

“You really know how to play me, baby. I’m always wrapped around your little finger.” He starts to knead your ass cheek with his large hand, skimming the tips of his digits against your wanton cunt. He’s testing you, wanting to see if you’ll start squirming or unclasp your hands from their position behind your back, but you hold steady.

“You leave me naughty little surprises. I had you on my mind all day, thinking about this naked little pussy walking around campus. One tiny slip and you would have shown everyone what’s mine.” Another sharp swat to your butt reverberates through the room and you can barely mumble out your counted response. 

“But that’s what you wanted isn’t it? You wanted everyone to see this slutty pussy of yours didn’t you?” Whether that was the truth or not doesn't actually matter, you know not to make an excuse. You are just meant to count and thank. 

“You need to stop squirming, princess, or you’re going to royally piss me off.” Ukai continues his relentless pace, two thick fingers pistoning deep in your dripping pussy. This was one of Ukai’s favorite games, finger-fucking you to the point of the bed under you slamming into the wall. Your job was to keep completely still. One arch of your back or escaped moan and he would land a sharp slap to your puffy, untended clit. 

He’s actually being quite generous despite the circumstances. Usually, you would be propped on your hands and knees, but Ukai has laid you flat on your back with one leg tossed over his broad shoulder. The position, while easier to keep your body still, does mean that Ukai’s piercing, hungry gaze has you pinned like prey under him. The completely pornografic sounds of his fingers are making your head spin. The fact that he’s been hammering his fingers relentlessly into your g-spot for an hour, is starting to make your mind foggy, all thoughts are starting to slip from your brain and your boyfriend can tell.

“God, baby, I love making you absolutely stupid for me. I bet all you can think about is my cock filling this little cunt up, huh?” His words are sneering, taunting. Your response is a babbled agreement and plea for his cock, and the sight of you so completely fucked out makes the bulge in his jeans strain even further. The feeling of his fingers in your squelching pussy is dulling all other senses, so when he pulls the digits away, you can’t help the cry that rips from the back of your throat. 

“Don’t worry, precious girl, I’m going to give you what you want. What you’re fucking desperate for.” Ukai pushes himself from the bed and removes his jeans and boxers, and you watch as his thick cock springs free to slap against his abdomen. The sound makes you mewl, your cunt clenching in anticipation. 

As Ukai crawls back onto your shared bed, his head dips down in between your legs. He licks, flat and languid across your slit, collecting your arousal on his tongue with a feral groan.

“Please, Daddy. Please fuck me. I- I need you. Wa- want to be your good girl.” You find your words as best as you can to beg for him, the sweet cadence of your voice and the way your weak arms reach out for his messy bleached hair signals to him that you’ve fallen completely into a foggy, submissive haze. You tug lightly at the tresses and the impressive self-control he has kept up thus far snaps like plywood under a heavy boot. 

Ukai takes one more deep, hungry lick at your soaking pussy and sits up, pushing your legs further apart, digging his nails into the soft skin under your knees. 

“Open your mouth, Princess.” You are quick to comply with his request, sticking your tongue out and looking up at him through your lashes. You hear the sound of him spitting, his saliva and your arousal coats the thickest plane of your tongue, but connecting one thought to the next becomes impossible as Ukai pushes his thick cock into you at the same time.

“Jesus Christ, no matter how much time I take to get you ready you’re still so tight. God, you make it really hard to stay mad at you.” His hands keep your legs pressed up to your chest, pushing his thick cock into you at an agonizingly lazy pace. Ukai was right, it didn’t matter that he had finger-fucked you into the mattress for an hour, taking him was a tight fit every time. As he buries himself in you, the intoxicating burn of being so full takes all of the air out of your chest. His thick cock stretches you so far, you swear he can feel your own heartbeat within the walls of your tiny cunt. He’s barely halfway into you and you can’t help but constrict, the tinny flavor of your orgasm crawling up from your spine to your mouth. 

“There’s no way I’m letting you cum already.” Ukai snickered sadistically, thumb brushing across your tattoo, the dirty secret you shared, right over where you need his fingers most. He wasn’t going to touch your deprived clit yet, and hoping for him to do so was a waste of energy. 

“I’m sorry Daddy. I promise, I’ll be good.” Your tears are rolling down the side of your face, wetting the sheet next to you. 

“You’re a pathetic mess and I’m not even all the way in you yet. I would save the tears if I were you, babydoll.” You try to compose yourself, but Ukai’s words of dismissive degradation give your whimpers more body, sobbing and babbling as his cock bottoms out. 

You can feel every inch of him, hard and thick and so so full inside of you. Ukai pulls out of you completely, his soaking tip rubbing on your labia before slamming back in to the hilt. His pace becomes brutal with every thrust, original slow pace completely unknown to you now. There’s no way you're going to be able to stand properly after this. 

“Daddy, please. Please let me cum. Need to cum, Daddy. Need to be your good girl.” A series of calls for your daddy and prayerful begs are the only things you know at this point, drool and tears covering your face.

“You know what, Princess? I bet I could make you cum with just one touch to that little clit.” Ukai takes one hand off of your thigh and hovers over where you have needed him since you woke up this morning. “If I’m right, I’ll make you cum again. If I’m wrong, you’re not gonna cum at all.”

You can feel the warmth of his finger looming over the neglected bud, the anticipation is overwhelming and cruel, but all worth it as soon as he pushes the rough pad of his thumb down. Ukai presses a single, taught circle into your clit and the coil wound tightly in your stomach snaps with incredible force. You know there is a scream that rips from your dry mouth, but you can’t hear it with the blood rushing through your ears. Ukai works you through your first orgasm, stilling his thrusts as until you come floating back down.

“I know this slutty little cunt better than the back of my hand. Now, my precious little thing,” You watch as Ukai hooks your limp legs over his shoulders, lining his throbbing cock back to your slopping entrance. “Let’s do that a couple more times.”

“Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can’t help, falling in love with you.”

You feel your senses coming back to you slowly, with every delicate touch Keishin glides over your skin. He pulls you back to reality with sweet touches and the deep, gravely sound of his voice. After several meticulous moments and even more words of praise, Kei delivers a delicate kiss to your forehead and carries you to the shower. You take a deep, relaxed sigh as he massages your aching muscles under the hot water. After drying your exhausted body with a fluffy towel, Keishin helps you into a comfy pair of leggings and one of his sweatshirts. 

“Take my hand. Take my whole heart too.” Your boyfriend’s broad arms wrap around your waist, hands finding purchase under the orange sweatshirt currently drowning your form, and you melt into his chest. “Because I can’t help, falling in love with you.” You turn around in his arms to steal a kiss, but as your lips attach to his a small laugh bubbles up from your stomach. 

“What are you giggling at?” Keishin eyes you curiously, and you start laughing even harder.

“Oh nothing, I was just thinking about the bloody nose you gave me when we first met.” You cackle at the memory and feel Keishin take an exasperated but amused sigh, joining your laughter with his own.

“First of all, Princess, you ran into me.”

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[writerpeach]

Blind Date

LOONA Choerry X Male Reader

8153 words

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“Oppa, how long has it been since you’ve dated anyone?” Son Hyejoo asked, seemingly out of the blue as she loudly slurped on her milkshake, stirring the leftover contents with her large straw.

“I don’t know, Hyejoo. I don’t keep track of things like that.”

Hyejoo pointed her strawberry milkshake directly at you, unsatisfied with your answer. “Then that means it’s been too long,” she said, her triangle lips forming a pout.

You rubbed your forehead, knowing once she brought something up she wasn’t going to drop it.

“Why do I need to date anyone when I’m lucky enough to rail you every day?” you playfully replied, causing her nearly to choke on her frozen drink.

“Oppa, not so loud!” she said, kicking your shin. “I won’t be around all the time now that I’m starting a new job. And you need some variety in your life. You’re going to get tired of fucking me.”

“That’s impossible.”

You couldn’t say you agreed with her on that. Hyejoo was the perfect friend with benefits, beautiful big tits and perfect thick thighs, the prettiest mouth and the tightest pussy that you spilled yourself inside several times a day, you couldn’t imagine needing anything else.

“I know just the person to set you up with, oppa. She’s single and one of my closest friends, I think you’ll like her.”

“That’s really not necessary-”

Hyejoo wasn’t going to take no for an answer, refusing to back down as she grabbed her phone and swiped through it.

Finding what she was looking for she showed you her screen, an equally gorgeous girl that looked the same age as her with innocent eyes and a sweet smile.

“She’s cute, but you really don’t have to-”

“Nonsense, oppa. It’s time for you to stop being so needy and find a girlfriend,” Hyejoo said.

“Needy? Unless I’m forgetting something you’re the one who loves slobbering on my cock first thing in the morning,” you said.

“Hey! It’s called breakfast, and it’s not my fault you get so hard in the morning.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure it is,” you said, as you were met with another kick to the shins.

“Ow!”

“It’s settled, I’ll set you two up on a blind date.”

“Blind date? But you just showed me her picture,” you said, tilting your head in confusion.

Hyejoo sighed audibly. “You’re hopeless, oppa. Don’t you want to know what she looks like?”

“O-of course, but-”

“No buts, oppa. Except hers, her butt is very nice,” she giggled, finishing up her milkshake.

“Don’t worry, she’s very sweet, I think you’ll get along well. Her name is Yerim and she always puts out.”

✦✦

“You look good, oppa,” Hyejoo said as she fixed the collar of your shirt.

You wiped your sweaty palms on the back of your pants as you took one more look in the mirror

“You smell good too. I told you that cologne was a panty-dropper," she said as her lips curled in a smirk.

You sighed loudly. “Hyejoo, I’m not meeting this girl just to get laid. You wanted me to get a girlfriend, right?”

"No, I'm pretty sure you wanted this, actually-"

Hyejoo pressed a finger against your lips. "Shush, oppa. Are you nervous?”

“Y-yes, it’s been years since I’ve been on a date.”

“Wanna have a quickie before? Burn all that stress all inside me?” Hyejoo jokingly said.

“...Are you serious?”

“Of course not, you can’t be dependent on me anymore, oppa. Plus, you need to save that load for Yerim.”

“Hyejoo!”

She smiled mischievously and patted your bottom, making sure nothing was out of place for your date.

“Have some confidence oppa, you’ll do great. Yerim will love you. Now get going, you don’t want to be late.”

✦✦

It was unusual for Hyejoo to put in this much effort, typically spending her days lazily on the couch checking her phone.

Everything was planned carefully. Hyejoo had picked the restaurant based on your favorite foods, the time, and the day, even showing up to your place an hour before to make sure you looked your best.

Keeping up with the notion of this being mostly a blind date, Hyejoo didn’t tell you much about Yerim. They shared the same age, although Yerim was months younger. They had a similar body type and lighter hair, and if you didn’t know any better you could have mistaken her for a younger sister.

You were still nervous about the date, but trusted Hyejoo’s judgement and hoped you were about to waste this opportunity that you had been given to meet a new girl. You took a deep breath as you stepped out of the taxi and headed into the restaurant, trying to calm your shaky hands.

The restaurant was larger than expected looking from the outside, equipped with a bar and seating area as you scanned around for your date.

“Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?” One of the hostesses asked, but before you had a chance to answer you heard an adorable voice interrupting.

“Over here!”

You were quickly blindsided by a cute girl that matched the picture that Hyejoo had shown you, abruptly wrapping her arms around in a tight hug.

She had a petite frame with brown hair, a tint lighter than Hyejoo and wore a modest black dress and heels with her hair styled perfectly.

“You’re Hyejoo’s friend right?” she asked, the smile on her face brighter than the sun.

“It would be a little awkward if I wasn’t now wouldn’t it?” you teased, gently nodding in response.

“Oh, well if you weren’t then I would just be hugging a cute stranger,” she said. “I’m Yerim.”

Cute? You thought to yourself as you were broadsided by this ball of happiness. “Come on, let’s eat!” she said, grabbing your hand as the hostess led you to your table.

You were both seated at a romantic candle-lit booth, letting Yerim sit down first as you took in the atmosphere of the restaurant. Hyejoo had picked the perfect place.

The waiter handed out menus and filled glasses to the brim with ice water as you looked over the laundry list of food, unsure what you were in the mood for.

“What’s good here?” Yerim asked the waiter, batting her eyelashes as her vocal tone grew higher.

“Our sushi and steak platter is very popular here. We have several different types to try paired with our signature sauces.”

“Steak? I love steak!” Yerim said, her mouth salivating just thinking about it.

“Me too. And sushi,” you said, as Yerim nodded to the waiter.

“I’ll bring it right out then,” the waiter said, scurrying away with a polite bow.

“I can’t wait!” Yerim said, licking her lips as she carefully unfolded and placed her napkin on her lap.

“It’s nice to meet you. Hyejoo has told me a lot about you!” she said, keeping a beautiful smile etched on her lips.

“Oh, has she? That seems a bit unfair, she didn’t tell me much about you. You’re much cuter than the picture she showed me.”

Yerim giggled as she opened her straw, placing it inside her glass and playing around with the ice cubes before taking a small sip, careful not to mess up her lip gloss.

The two girls were quite the contrast to each other. Hyejoo wasn’t one to care about most things, you found it difficult to pry her away from her gaming chair for anything but food and sex. Yerim on the other hand was hanging on your every word, finding any word you said the most interesting thing in the world without a hint of dishonesty.

Quicker than expected the food arrived, and you both dove in without hesitation, armed with chopsticks like a hunter stalking a prey.

The two opposing foods meshed perfectly. Raw sushi made with fish so fresh it might as well have been served directly out of the ocean, complimenting tender meat that literally melted in your mouth, cooked to perfection and seasoned, salted without excess. You swore you heard Yerim moaning out loud as she took her first bite.

Sharing food with a girl so full of energy was a wonderful experience, her company only adding to the delicious flavor. You were so focused on the fresh sushi that you barely had the capacity to register Yerim unapologetically taking the last piece of steak quicker than a deadly samurai and shoving it into her mouth proudly.

“Ah, you really must be Hyejoo’s friend,” you said sarcastically, frowning at her meat thievery.

"Mmm! There's nothing I love more than juicy meat in my mouth," Yerim said, without a hint of subtlety to her words.

She shamelessly went in for another piece of sushi, trying to add another piece of loot to her food heist as you quickly blocked her chopsticks with your own, denying her the satisfaction as you claimed the last spicy tuna roll for your own.

“Hey! That one was my favorite!” she protested, pursing her lips as her cheeks puffed as she watched the claimed prize disappearing into your mouth.

“Mine too! It was delicious,” you boasted, wiping your lips with the cloth napkin before folding it back on your lap. “I’m sorry, it was rude of me not to ask if you wanted the last piece.”

Yerim wasn’t one to stay mad for long, unfolding her arms as the signature brightness returned to her face. “The steak was better anyways,“ she said, giggling and sticking her tongue out.

Time flew by as you learned more about Yerim, hours had felt like minutes as they passed,

ending the meal with the biggest slice of cheesecake you had ever seen.

The waiter came by to drop off the bill as you scooped it up, not bothering to look at the total as the time spent with such an adorable human was priceless.

“Such a gentleman, aren’t you?” Yerim said, and you couldn’t quite tell if she was teasing you or not.

Leaving a generous tip, you walked Yerim outside the restaurant, both of you equally full from both the delicious food company as the temperature had dropped, the cool crisp air blowing every which way.

“Thank you for a fun night, Yerim. I’ll let Hyejoo know she picked well.”

Yerim’s cheeks reddened and tilted her head down shyly. “Ending the night so soon?” Yerim said, the disappointment in her voice clear as the night sky.

“Well, it’s getting late and I wouldn’t want to keep you up.”

“I don’t have a bedtime, silly,” she said, hitting your shoulder as the wind blew through her beautiful hair. The moonlight bouncing off her skin made her look even more gorgeous, illuminating her milky white skin.

Yerim closed the distance little by little until your noses were almost touching, letting you see the color in her beautiful round eyes.

“I had a really fun night too, but it doesn’t have to end here you know...” Yerim said, giving you a quick peck on your cheek.

Yerim was practically throwing herself at you as you gulped, swallowing down saliva nervously.

“Aren’t you going to invite a cute girl back to your place?” she abruptly said, taking charge of the situation.

You snapped out of it and weren’t going to let Hyejoo’s efforts go to waste. “O-of course. Would you like to go back to my place, Miss Yerim?”

“Of course! I thought you would never ask!”

The short taxi ride back to your place was filled with palpable sexual tension, neither of you muttering a word since you both left the restaurant. Yerim opted for her actions to speak for her as she rubbed your thigh the whole time.

You unlocked the door to your apartment and held the door open for Yerim as she stepped inside, swiveling her head as she looked around. She kicked her heels off and rubbed her feet, happy to be freed of them as her bare feet walked on the carpet.

“You have such a nice place. It’s cleaner than I expected.”

You didn’t know what that meant as you got comfortable, slipping your shoes off as you grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine,” she replied, awkwardly standing in the middle of the living room until you gestured for her to take a seat. Yerim sat down excitedly, pulling her dress down and crossed her legs as you sat down next to her.

Yerim turned her body towards you and placed a hand on your knee, her full attention yours for the taking as her bright doe eyes lit up.

“This was the first blind date I’ve been on,” Yerim said, leaning in close enough that you could smell her cherry shampoo.

“Me too. Did you have a good time?”

“Yes! I’m still full from all that steak.”

You felt weak in the knees at Yerim’s beauty, the possibility that such a beautiful girl existed seemed to be good to be true. You hesitated to make the first move, but Yerim had it covered as she mounted your lap, wrapping her legs around your waist.

You felt the electricity in the air as Yerim’s lips brushed against yours, meeting for the first time as the sweet taste of her entered your mouth, reminding you of an unforgettable candy.

“You’re so pretty,” you said, the kiss breaking after just a few seconds, leaving you longing for more after just a tease.

“Keep kissing me and I’ll let you see how pretty the rest of me is,” Yerim said, once again without any subtlety. Your hands snaked around her slim waist as your lips met again, her tongue introducing itself and playing around with your own.

“Not bad,” Yerim said as she came up for air, her eyes drunk on lust already. This close you were able to distinguish all the features of her face, her dead drop gorgeous eyes, her cute nose, her luscious lips, it was all a complete package.

“You’re really pretty, Yerim,” you said, complimenting her again as her face reddened and the pale color of her cheeks faded.

“T-thank you,” Yerim said, running a hand through her hair, trying to calm herself down.

“I wasn’t planning on dating anytime soon, but Hyejoo talked me into it. I even got this new dress for the occasion.”

“It looks really good on you.”

“Thank you! I think it’ll look even better on your floor, though,” Yerim said, trying to keep a straight face and failing miserably.

You had no response in return, suddenly rendered speechless but her forwardness.

“It’s my first time. You’ll be gentle, won’t you?” Yerim asked, the innocence in her sparkling eyes shining through.

“W-wait, really?” you asked. Hyejoo didn’t certainly mention something so vital, and Yerim had just dropped this so casually on you that you didn’t know how to react.

“Isn’t it every guy's fantasy to pop a girl’s cherry?” Yerim asked, as she bit the tip of her fingernail.

You scrambled for words to find when Yerim began giggling uncontrollably, trying to save the last of her charade as she placed her hand over her mouth.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” Yerim said, as you felt all the color fading from your face.

“Don’t worry, I’m not actually a virgin. I am a good girl though,” she said, as she started grinding herself on your lap.

“Are you? I don’t think this is what good girls do, Yerim,” you said, grabbing her waist to hold her in place.

“Of course! I’m always a good girl…”

“We’ll see about that.”

Yerim’s expression never changed, her eyes keeping the same innocent look in them as if trying to convince you of her words. You moved her hair out of the way and kissed her neck in several places, diving in and gently sucking on the sensitive skin that you found there, causing Yerim to gasp loudly.

“Take me to the bedroom. I think you’re getting excited,” she teased, as blood had begun flowing to your pants, causing an erection to form that she had felt.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked, her gorgeous face a hair's breadth away as you lose yourself in her eyes.

Yerim nodded without hesitation, cupping both sides of your face and swiping her tongue against your lips, taking one more tender kiss, the taste of her lips lingering.

“Yes, I want it. I want you to fuck me,“ she whispered into your ear, her expression finally changing as her eyes opened wide. The innocence was gone, swallowed up by lust as she dismounted your lap and stretched her arm out as you led her to the bedroom.

“Wow, so this must be where you and Hyejoo have all your fun together?” she said, exploring the large bedroom with her eyes.

“Here, the bathroom, the shower, the couch, the kitchen counter…”

Yerim feigned surprise for a moment, stopping at the foot of the bed. “Where are we going to have fun together?”

“Wherever you would like.”

“We can start here,” Yerim said, closing the distance and went in for another makeout session as her slender fingers unbuttoned your shirt, fingers tracing your chest.

“Hyejoo left the part out about you having such a nice body,” Yerim said as she planted a wet kiss on your chest, slipping your shirt off your body as she tossed it away.

“Can’t let her spoil everything about me can we?” you said, exploring her body with your hands, cupping her backside with both hands and grabbing a handful of cheeks.

“It’s my turn then,” Yerim said, turning away from you and letting you see the backside of her little black dress. “Help a girl out?”

You let out a deep breath as you approached, grabbing the top of her zipper’s dress and pulled it down in one smooth movement, exposing her bare back. Yerim turned back around with the shyest of smiles, slipping the dress off her body as it piled at her feet.

Yerim rested her hands on her wide hips, presenting her tight body that was more mouthwatering than the meal you shared earlier. Underneath her dress she had on a cute purple bra, showing a hint of cleavage with matching underwear as she spun around and let you see her the thin piece of fabric nestled in between her delicious asscheeks.

The curves of her body competed with that of Hyejoo minus a smaller chest, competing where it mattered with delicious succulent thighs that you couldn’t wait to get your hands on.

“Like what you see?”

“I do. Is this what good girls wear?” you asked as you pulled her in close, hands wandering around before finding her backside again, squeezing her ass firmly.

“Y-yes! I’ll show you what a good girl I can be,”

Her eyes were filled with excitement as she kept them on you the entire time as she slowly lowered to her knees, staring at the bulge in your pants now at eye level.

“Can I?” Yerim asked with widened eyes, demonstrating her ability to wait for permission as she patiently waited. You gave the go ahead with a simple nod, and she swiftly undid your pants, yanking them down to your ankles as the bulge in your boxers became more prominent.

Yerim was quick to free your shaft from its constraints, hooking her fingers into the waistband of your boxers as she divested them from your body. Blood had rushed to your throbbing shaft as it was freed, almost smacking Yerim’s adorable face as it was met with the cool air.

“Wow...” Yerim said as your revealed cock met her gaze, hungrily admiring every last inch of it as she couldn’t keep her mouth closed. Her fingers wrapped around it, forming a tight fist and pumped up and down slowly, precum dripping out of your slit already as you throbbed in her hand.

Yerim had no time to waste, giving a few soft kisses on your tip as she flattened her tongue at the base of your cock, painting slow upward strokes with her wet tongue, swirling against your leaking slit and collecting every drop.

“Mmm, yummy!” she said, and without hesitation she parted her lips with your shaft, taking you into the warmth of her mouth, sucking on your swollen sensitive tip.

“Oh... f-fuck,” you moaned out, your toes digging into the carpet as the pleasure took over, shooting up your spine. Yerim’s mouth was nothing but pleasurable, delivering radiating warmth as her puckered lips wrapped around your shaft, feeling like the softest silk as she applied a delicate suction and hollowed her squishy cheeks.

You looked up at the lights for a second, trying to distract yourself from the intense feeling of Yerim’s lips sucking you off. It didn’t help much, especially when you felt her warm mouth unexpectedly move deeper, causing you to moan loudly.

You almost regretted looking down, watching as Yerim bobbed her head up and down as she slurped on your shaft, retreating her mouth back when half of you entered her mouth as her playful tongue ran along the sensitive underside of your cock.

“God, that feels amazing,” you said, placing a hand on the back of her head, both to guide her movements and to give yourself a necessary outlet. Yerim took this as encouragement, swiftly sliding her lips up and down your throbbing shaft, leaving behind a trail of glistening warm saliva in her wake.

Yerim looked up, showing the hunger in her eyes, spitting leftover saliva as she furiously stroked your cock.

“Does that feel good, daddy?” she asked, your cock twitching in her small hand, answering for you. Hyejoo had told her one of your little secrets it seemed.

“Please fuck my face, daddy. Fill my throat with this nice cock,” Yerim pleaded, letting any last remnants of innocence slip away.

It was hard not to be taken aback by her filthy words that didn’t match her cute features, but you’d be lying if the juxtaposition didn’t send your arousal level skyrocketing.

Taking control of your shaft you rubbed your tip on her soft warm lips, pushing yourself back into the intoxicating warmth of her mouth. You guided Yerim deeper by pushing the back of her head down until her lips met the base of your shaft. With minimal effort you entered her throat, hitting the back of it as it tightened around you and caused her to gag loudly. You instinctively began to withdraw, but the look in her eyes suggested otherwise.

You grabbed both sides of her head, moving gently as strands of dark hair wrapped around your fingers as you thrusted in and out of her warm mouth, gradually testing her limits. Yerim kept gagging as your tip stuck the back of her throat, but gave no signal she wanted you to stop, her lustful gaze suggesting the opposite.

It didn’t take long for your self control to vanquish itself, carnal desires taking over as you took pleasure from Yerim, fucking her mouth furiously and slapping your balls against her chin as her round eyes began watering with tears.

“Such a good girl. You like being used like this?” you asked, Yerim unable to answer but smiling with a mouth full of cock, slurping and gagging on every inch of throbbing hard flesh.

You never stopped your rough treatment of Yerim’s pretty mouth, ruining her makeup that was no doubt meticulously put on as she tried to tame her gag reflex to no avail. You could see by her watery eyes how much she was enjoying this, dripping down her thighs as she kept her mouth open for you to encourage your forceful use of her throat.

Yerim’s hands didn’t stay idle as they worked the clasp of her bra, discarding it from her body to free her perky tits, only strengthening your erection. She held on to your thighs to brace herself, slobbering on your shaft as you kept her throat filled, taking every thrust like a champ as messy drool spilled out of her lips and coated her bare chest.

Your senses were overwhelmed as Yerim had been turned into a mess, her beautiful face now stained with tears and drool, hair disheveled and out of place. You couldn’t keep this pace up for much longer or you were liable to finish much sooner than you wanted to, forcing her head down and holding her there for several seconds before mercifully withdrawing your shaft from her messy mouth.

Yerim came up for air with several loud gasps, messy strands of spit connected your glistening wet shaft to her smiling lips.

“You really are a good girl,” you said, using your stiff cock and slapping her face several times with your wet shaft as she continued grinning from ear to ear.

"I wasn't lying…"

“I want you on the bed. I’m still a little hungry.”

"Of course, daddy!"

Yerim was quick to obey as she climbed up and crawled on the bed, lying flat on her back as she spread her legs for you, offering herself up like a scrumptious meal.

"Come taste me, daddy," Yerim beckoned, biting her lip as she rubbed her pussy through her skimpy panties, showing off the wet spot staining the front of her crotch that only grew the more she touched herself.

Yerim's perfect body was almost fully unwrapped for you, and you couldn’t take anymore and needed to see every inch, wanting to get in between those thighs you couldn’t stop staring. You joined her on the bed and peeled her panties off without hesitation down her sexy legs, revealing her bare pussy and the prettiest set of lips that were dripping with arousal.

"Beautiful," you said as you laid flat on your stomach, positioning yourself and spreading her legs wider as Yerim blushed in response.

“T-thank you, daddy.”

You grew tired of staring and wanted to take action, planting several kisses on Yerim’s bare thighs in different places, never putting your lips on the same part of skin twice. She squirmed at your touch as you teased her, placing your mouth dangerously close to her pussy but refusing to touch her center.

"D-daddy, please-"

“What is it, baby? What do you need?” you asked, swiping your tongue against her luscious thighs to taste her creamy skin, lapping up juices that had already spilled out of her core and sampling them.

“Eat my pussy, p-please, daddy.”

“You’re cute when you beg. I’m gonna make you do more of that,” you said, lowering your head in between her open legs and giving one slow swipe of your tongue against her pink dripping slit.

"O-oh f-fuck, daddy," Yerim moaned as you gave several licks repeatedly, exploring her wet tolds with your tongue. You slipped your tongue inside her juicy pussy, gathering her delicious nectar on your tastebuds and gave a few swipes against her cilt before sucking on it.

"Your pussy tastes so fucking good,” you said, slurping on her swollen clit as you felt the warmth of her thighs on either side of your face, wrapping around your head and squeezing. You looked straight into Yerim’s round, lust-filled eyes as you ate her out, watching her bliss overtake her features as you lapped up all her leaking juices, drinking up every drop.

“F-fuck, you’re really good at that,” Yerim cried out, her hips bucking with a mind of their own. You brought a finger inside her dripping wet cunt, then a second short after, thrusting into her tight little hole as you kept your lips secured around her swollen clit, slurping harshly on it.

“That feels so good, o-oh my god, please d-don’t stop, daddy…”

Yerim grew wetter and wetter, your fingers being drenched with her slick as you messily ate her out, her thighs squeezing your head tighter as her breathing became shallow. You kept eye contact as your fingers plunged to the hilt, the warm walls of her cunt squeezing your wet fingers, not letting you go.

“J-ust like that, I’m so c-close, f-fuck!”

You kept firm pressure on her clit as her moans grew stronger and longer, lips suckling harshly on her sensitive nub as you helped her chase what she was desperate for, drinking in her nectar as it filled your mouth.

“D-daddy, I-I’m going to cum!”

Yerim suffocated you with her thighs as you kept your lips on her clit, fucking her with your fingers without mercy as grabbed onto your head, pushing you deeper into her delicious pussy as she couldn’t take it any more.

“O-oh, oh my god, daddy, I’m cumming!”

Yerim’s muscles tensed up as her toes curled, flooding your mouth with her sweet succulent honey. Her hips bucked uncontrollably as you helped her hit her peak, her thighs trembling around your head, smearing her juices all over your lips and chin, drowning you with her pleasure.

It was loud and messy, an unforgettable clmax for Yerim as you helped her come down from it gently, slurping with less force and removing your lips from her sensitive clit. Your fingers however, stayed deep inside her as her thighs lost the power they held around your head.

“I want you to cum again for me,” you ordered, pumping your fingers furiously inside her dripping tight hole, her wetness sucking you in.

“I-I can’t, p-please, daddy, I’m still sensitive…”

“You said you’re a good girl didn’t you? I want you to cum one more time.”

You had no plans of letting up, both fingers buried to the hilt inside Yerim’s pussy, keeping up the stimulation on her body as you felt her cunt pulsating again. The wet squelch of her warm hole filled the room as you never stopped moving, keeping her pussy filled as tears welled up in her sparkling eyes as you demanded another orgasm out of her.

“Cum for me, baby, I know you can do it. One more time, I want to see how wet you can really get.”

“P-please, I-I, f-fuck, o-oh fuck!”

Yerim was a beautiful squirming mess, her thighs covered in her own juices as she let out desperate gasps and moans, the intense stimulation overwhelming her body and all her senses.

“D-daddy, p-please!”

You weren’t planning on stopping until you got what you wanted and what Yerim deserved. Your wrist felt like it was on fire as fingers were kept curled inside her heat, moving frantically with one goal in mind.

Yerim barely had time to register the growing knot in her abdomen, still focused on the intense aftershocks running throughout her body that she quickly came without warning. Her orgasm was much stronger as slick juices gushed out of her sensitive pussy that forced your fingers out of her as she squirted all over you and the bed, staining the sheets and leaving a dark mess on the bed.

Yerim shook uncontrollably as her second consecutive orgasm winded down, you helped her out by caressing her thighs to calm her down, rubbing her pussy with your palm.

“P-please, s-stop, I can’t take anymore, p-please,” she begged, and you had your fill, ceasing any form of contact as her sounds of gasping heightened, her chest uninterruptedly heaving up and down.

“Good girl. Are you okay?” you asked, making a show of cleaning your fingers off with her juices.

“Y-yes, I’m fine, daddy. That was intense, I’ve never had anyone do that before,” she said, struggling to form full syllables.

You patiently waited for Yerim to regain her composure, giving all the time she needed. It took several moments for the trembling in her body to control itself, as the lustful gaze in her eyes returned, and you knew that meant she was ready for the next step.

“Will you fuck me now, daddy?”

“If you insist,” you replied, getting into position as your knees pressed against the still drenched sheets as you maneuvered in between her spread thighs. Yerim pushed her knees up and feet flat on the mattress as the anticipation of what you both desired was at an all-time high.

Gazing into her eyes with your cock in hand, you eagerly lined yourself up with Yerim’s pussy, sliding in between the warm flesh of her drenched pussy lips, stalling your desires to enter her body. You parted her folds, playing with her slippery flesh and refusing to do anything else but tease her entrance.

“P-please, put it inside me, daddy. I’ve been a good girl.”

“You have, but I want you to beg for it. Beg for me to fuck you.”

Yerim whined audibly as your cock loitered around her inviting opening, spreading her juices around and denying her the pleasure she desperately sought. It wasn’t going to be that easy for you to give in.

“P-please, please fuck me, daddy. I’m so wet, I need to feel your cock inside my tight little pussy!”

“I don’t think you really mean it,” you said, watching the desperation in her eyes as you slapped her clit with your cock. Yerim squirmed as you nudged the tip of your cock against her hole, teasing penetration but stopping at the last moment, leaving her unsatisfied and empty.

“P-please! I can’t take it anymore, please fuck me, daddy!”

You felt like you could go on like this forever, but your own self-control was being tested as the more you teased her the more you wanted to be inside her. Yerim continued to plead and beg, reduced to a desperate whiny mess and starving for cock as you looked straight into her eyes and slid inside her in one smooth stroke, parting the wet hungry lips of her cunt.

“O-oh my god.”

Yerim opened her mouth to let out a moan, her eyes struggling to stay open as flesh entered inside her. She tilted her head back as she was finally given what she craved as the tip of your cock disappeared inside her heat. Yerim was overwhelmingly tight, her walls suffocated your cock and you wanted to savor such an unforgettable feeling for as long as you could, lazily moving your hips.

You started out slowly, wanting Yerim to earn every single thrust. Her silky wet walls felt heavenly around your shaft, her warmth so intoxicating as you slid in and out of her pussy at a gingerly pace. She felt so wet, so hot, so tight inside that you couldn’t help but keep your pace slow at first, wanting to drown in all the intense sensations that flooded your body.

“Your pussy feels so amazing,” you said, as Yerim’s body tested your patience as you slid an inch deeper at a time, until you had bottomed her out. Her wetness was so prominent that you were able to move inside her effortlessly, her messy juices lubricating your sluggish thrusts.

“Do you like how tight I am, daddy? I’m much tighter than Hyejoo aren’t I?” Yerim asked as she adjusted to your length, keeping her desperate eyes glued to your own as you began to move more forcefully inside her, fueling your desires to give her everything and more.

“You’re so big, daddy. I want to be pounded senseless, ruin me please!”

“You have such a dirty little mouth don’t you, baby? I’m starting to think you aren’t a good girl after all,” you told her, upping your pace and fucking her harder as you grabbed her warm thighs, slipping into the wet depths of her hot constricting cunt.

Yerim feigned the hint of surprise on her face as she moaned, arms by her side and holding on to your bed sheets as she relaxed into the mattress.

“T-that’s not true, daddy. I’m not a bad girl…”

She struggled to keep her eyes open as pleasure took control of her body, and you felt no need to hold back and began pistoning your hips, pounding her pussy and stuffing her full of cock.

“I don’t think you’re a good girl. But I think you’re a little slut,” you said as you gave her the hardest thrust of the night, making her gasp at how deep your cock fit inside her.

“I-I’m not a slut, I’m a good-ah!”

Yerim’s denial was interrupted as you lifted her luscious legs into the air, draping them over your shoulders. You were able to hit spots you couldn’t before, thrusting carelessly into her pussy as the bed became an orchestra of noisy squeaks and audible moans.

“O-oh fuck, right there! just like that, daddy!”

You had no plans on stopping now that Yerim had unshackled the chains of desire, hugging her legs while your hips went wild as you drove yourself repeatedly into her comfortable warm hole.

It was impossible to concentrate on anything else with how good she felt and the never-ending wetness that smothered your shaft as you established a perfect rhythm and looked directly into Yerim’s eyes as you stretched her out.

“Such a good little slut, taking this cock so well,” you hissed, feeling her pussy clench around your cock at the second use of the word she swore she wasn’t, her body betraying her. Yerim let out wordless gasps and moans as you kept the momentum up with no end in sight.

Yerim’s moans grew and grew as your rhythm sped up, her flushed skin becoming warmer to touch as you kept her filled airtight, her walls pulsating around your drenched shaft.

“You’re going to cum again?”

“Y-yes, I’m so close! Please don’t stop…”

“You can’t. Not until you admit what a slut you are.”

“B-but I’m not...I’m a good girl I promise!” she said, desperately trying to keep up the act.

You slowed down your thrusts at the result of her defiance, practically at a standstill, resting inside her.

“N-no, wait! P-please, I’m so c-close. Let me cum, please, let me cum, daddy.”

You refused until she gave you want you wanted, only thrusting into her body every few seconds, driving her crazy.

“Say it. Tell me and I’ll make you feel better than you ever have before.”

Yerim was left with no other options, frustratedly grabbing on to the sheets as the fire in her abdomen kept burning.

“I’-I’m a slut. I’m a needy little slut that needs to cum!”

“No, you’re a good little slut. Now cum on my cock,” you corrected, reestablishing your pace and driving every inch of hard flesh inside her. Her walls clenched almost painfully tight, her wetness growing as you pounded her into the mattress.

“D-daddy, I-I’m cumming!”

Yerim’s orgasm didn’t dawdle, her toes curling into the sheets as her back arched, taking every inch of flesh into her wet pussy. You fucked her straight through her strongest orgasm of the night, her legs shaking in your hands as she came hard. If your sheets weren’t ruined before she made sure they were.

“Good little slut” you purred, letting her legs drop from your shoulders gently as your pace slowed down, caressing her face as her glazed over eyes could barely stay open.

“D-don’t you need to cum too, daddy?” Yerim asked with several shallow breaths, doing her best to form a sweet smile. You leaned forward and kissed her, tasting the cherries on her lips and watched her chest slowly heaving up and down, almost hypnotizing you.

“Not yet. I’m not done having fun with you.”

Letting her rest for a moment you slowly withdrew from her drenched pussy, watching your shaft glistening with her juices in the lights as you left her body empty, whines escaping her lips. Hands on her hips you nudged her as she turned over, getting on her hands and knees.

Yerim settled into position, displaying the naked curves of her body, ripe for the taking. She granted you all access to her delicious bent over body, her head resting on the mattress and her plump ass raised in the air.

Her pretty pink lips were still splayed open after your treatment of her, but you were just getting started, rubbing your painfully hard shaft between her warm buttcheeks as you prepared yourself to enter her pussy.

Yerim’s skin was so soft as you used her cheeks to massage your throbbing shaft, you couldn’t take much of being outside her. Not wasting time you lined yourself back up with her tight hole, poking against her entrance again with no plans to keep her waiting, needing to find yourself buried in her smothering warmth.

Taking a deep breath you looked at the pleading look in Yerim’s eyes as she patiently looked over her shoulder. You popped your hips and slid in an inch inside her dripping heat before letting the rest sink inside.

Yerim gasped as her pussy swallowed up your cock hungrily and refused to let you go, enveloping you in a familiar warmth and wetness as she lowered her head, fingers wrapped around in your sheets.

“Such a tight little slut, aren’t you? You want daddy to pound this tight pussy?”

“Yes, daddy! Don’t hold back this time, okay? I can take it!”

There wasn’t any reason not to give Yerim just what she asked for as you placed your hands on her supple cheeks, squeezing the soft flesh and kneading it, pressing your fingertips into her warm flushed skin.

“Fuck me!”

Yerim was just every bit demanding as your mutual friend and fuckbuddy Hyejoo, and if she wanted to be treated the same you were going to oblige her. She was all yours and you were going to make the most of it as you started at a rapid pace, finding a harsh rhythm and drove yourself deep inside, making her scramble for a tighter grip on the sheets.

“You’re so fucking wet. Good girls definitely don’t drip all over my cock like this.”

Yerim couldn’t find a response, answering back only in lustful erotic moans as you increased your pace, moving your hands to her wide hips and squeezing her flesh hard enough to bruise in the morning.

“Harder! F-fuck me harder, daddy, please!”

“Since you asked so nicely…”

Yerim so impossibly tight that it almost hurt as you plunged every single inch of flesh in her, making sure your hips smacked against her big ass, causing her plump cheeks to ripple in time with your thrusts as she arched her back high.

“Oh f-fuck, you’re so deep! H-harder, daddy!”

“So needy,” you said, gripping her hips even tighter to pull her back against your cock, slamming into her pussy without mercy and using no wasted movements. You flattened your palm and gave her beautiful tight ass a hard smack that echoed across the room.

Her pussy clenched in response as she let out a loud gasp, and you gave her another slap on the other cheek as her walls tightened around you, threatening to push you out of her body.

“F-fuck!”

“So you’re a slut that loves to be spanked, huh? Hyejoo left out so many things,” you said, smacking her ass repeatedly in the same spot until you left a faint handprint on her pale skin.

“Y-yes! I’m a naughty little slut that loves to be spanked and used!”

Your smacks against her plump ass grew harder, her tender flesh rippling with each flick of your wrist. Yerim’s walls clenched each time you smacked her delicious ass, the mixture of pain and pleasure causing her natural juices to flood down her thighs.

“P-please don’t stop!” Yerim begged, looking back at you with desperation as you saw tears had formed in her eyes. You gave a brief moment of respite, massaging the sore reddened skin until she signaled she was ready for another round.

You struck her cheeks with more force, winding your arm back to deliver slap after slap, making sure you hit the same part of her ass as found the handprints that made such an easy target. Her sensitive skin grew a brighter shade of red with each smack, each harsh slap made her wetter and wetter.

You looked down at your handiwork, your cock disappearing into between bright red buttcheeks that you found it impossible not to want even more out of her body as you pulled her arms behind her, grabbing her dainty wrists with a tight grip.

“I’m really going to fucking ruin you,” you growled, pounding away into Yerim as if it a fire had just been lit inside you, dropping all sense of self control as your animalistic urges took over.

You were anything but gentle, fucking Yerim with the harshest thrusts your body could give. Shortly after sweat began to drip down your forehead, misting over Yerim’s naked back.

“Th-that’s so good, you’re fucking me so well, daddy!”

Yerim could barely keep it together, her pussy dripping like a faucet as she found it hard to think straight, all thoughts ceased except the hard throbbing cock ravaging her cunt without any care.

“F-fuck, d-daddy! You’re gonna make me cum again!”

Your breathing grew as shallow as hers, the loud slap of hot flesh against hot flesh filled your ears alongside Yerim’s lustful moans as your hips smacked her ass, your sweaty bodies clinging together.

“Cum for me. Cum again for me you greedy little slut.”

It only took until your sentence had ended. Yerim was teetering on the edge and your words and actions pushed her over it, unable to control herself any longer she selfishly took her fourth climax of the night. It was the weakest of the bunch but still no less satisfying, toes curling in the mattress as her orgasm jerked her whole body, and had you not had control of her arms it would have been easy for her to fall face first into the mattress.

Her wet hot pussy squeezed your cock so hard that you prepared yourself to follow in her footsteps, giving into the mind-numbing pleasure and released the grip on her wrists. Your hands found their rightful place on her hips as you pounded her pussy as long as you both could stand it.

“I-I’m gonna fucking cum too. Where do you want it?”

“Yay! Cum inside me, daddy! Please, I need my pussy filled so badly, p-please!”

You had just enough time to wait for her response, your body not waiting much longer, finding it harder and harder to breathe and it was impossible to leave the warmth of her silky dripping cunt.

Looking down between your legs, you used all your remaining energy as your cock disappeared in between her cheeks, no longer fighting the urge to hold back anything as the sweat on your bodies increased, as did the harsh sounds of your bodies slapping against one another.

You reached your peak with ease thanks to the vigorous use of Yerim’s body. It was just too much to handle as your pulsating shaft erupted inside her, moaning loudly and sending shot after shot of thick semen into the suffocatingly tight walls of her heavenly wet pussy.

Using all the energy you had left you finished up your final thrusts, slowing down the movement of your hips and ensuring not a drop was left. You were both exhausted, tired gasps and heavy panting filled the room but you couldn’t help but give her backside one more squeeze as your cock rested inside her.

“You came so much...it’s so warm…”

Once your senses had recovered and you withdrew an inch at a time as your depleted cock slipped out of Yerim’s freshly fucked pussy, leaving a stream of thick milky cum leaking out of her that dripped down her thighs, mixing with the already prevalent juices that had ruined your bedsheets.

You had just enough energy to let your tired self plop on the tortured mattress, Yerim crashing on top as your sweaty bodies melded together in a mess of limbs.

“That was amazing…” Yerim managed to mutter out, drained syllables barely leaving her sweet lips in a coherent sentence, her head resting on your chest while you draped an arm over her back, pulling her in tight.

“Do you want to clean up? My shower is big enough for two,” you said, making Yerim drip between her messy thighs again as you fixed strands of sweaty disheveled hair out of place.

“I can barely move,” Yerim giggled, flashing a weak smile.

“Don’t move then. Take all the time you need.”

“This was a wonderful date. Thank you, daddy.”

Yerim quickly fell asleep in your arms, out like a light. You were about to follow her until a buzz on your nightstand interrupted you from doing so.

Hyejoo deserved some credit, and you’d had to thank her in the morning. For now all you could do was drift away to sleep, thankful for the amazing night with Yerim and also that she wasn’t a snorer.

[missymurphy1985]

The Morning After

The morning after your wedding to Cillian, you were now officially y/n Murphy.

*Request*

Warning - pure filth.. sorry. Also mentions of past abuse.

Rolling over in bed, you winced. Fucking hair pins, why did they need so many?? It was a 'down' do, why so many pins?? Opening your eyes, you instantly felt better. Your new husband lay beside you, still fast asleep, the dawn sunlight glancing over his sharp cheekbones as he snored lightly.

You smiled, allowing a finger to trace over them. You watched his long eyelashes flutter as his eyes twitched, clearly in the middle of a dream. Your fingers lightly touching over his cute, perfect profile, lightly down his nose, smoothing ever so gently over his lips so as not to wake him. You noticed more freckles than usual, a result of a sunny day spent outdoors following your Summer wedding day in Cork yesterday. In his navy blue suit and dark red cravat, he looked as handsome as ever. The way he gasped as his own father led you down the aisle, the way his eyes watered when you arrived by his side at the altar.. you held back a tear of your own as his father kissed your cheek and placed your hand in his son's. After the year you'd had, your own family breaking contact with you, your friends slowly reducing their contact, you finally felt happy. At peace.

Your family and friends refused to accept your new relationship - they were still besotted with your ex, and couldn't understand how you couldn't see what they did. They, however, didn't see what YOU saw behind closed doors. The way he wouldn't allow you to spend money without clearing it with him first. The way he berated you in private when you dared to put an ounce on in weight - your confidence at an all time low. He called you every name under the sun in the privacy of the small apartment you shared - Fat. Ugly. Worthless. Nothing without him. Plain Jane when you didn't wear makeup, and a whore when you did. But that was all okay, right? At least he didn't hit you... Over the course of 6 months, he wore you down until you were a shell of your former self, before you met Cillian. Your boyfriend was a set designer on a local Enda Walsh play that Cillian was starring in, and he'd taken you along to the aftershow party. He was already wasted, trying to schmooze his way in with the director and cast, showing off his 'singing' skills.. you were mortified, and made a quick exit over to the bar where Cillian stood nursing a Guinness, looking almost as miserable as you did. He turned to face you and you started talking, albeit you very quietly and not making eye contact at all in fear your boyfriend would see you and flip. You didn't need the hassle of him being jealous - you weren't allowed to talk to other men, that was one of the many rules he imposed on you. Too late though, he'd already spotted you and you felt him grab your arm harshly.

"Flirting with the cast eh y/n? Told you that makeup made you look like a whore, didn't I?" He seethed in your ear, making you tremble slightly. He thought he was being quiet...

"Hey, the fuck? We're just talking Chris, there's no need for any of that?" Cillian suddenly moved, briskly swiping Chris's hand off your arm. A bruise already starting to form.

"Stay out of it Murphy, you don't fucking scare me man! Big shot Hollywood star are you? Think that'll impress MY girl huh? Fat chance mate, what's she gonna see in you?"

"We were TALKING Chris, that's it, and you need to leave. Now." Cillian signalled for security to take Chris away.

"I'll see you at home y/n!! This ain't over!!" He screamed as he was dragged out of the party. You sank back against the wall, your breath coming out in short, sharp bursts... Warm hands took your shoulders and a pair of ocean blue eyes met yours.

"Hey, hey... Look at me... Breathe with me... In.. out. In.. out. Come on, that's it, you're okay now.." he maintained the eye contact, waiting for your breathing to return to normal, which it did with this stranger's help.

"I have to go... I can't, I need to go..."

"I'm Cillian, what's your name?"

"Y/n.. I need to go home Cillian, he'll be waiting for me..."

"That's exactly why you're not going y/n, come with me, yeah?"

You looked back into his eyes, finding trust. Trust and care.. that looked genuine.. you'd forgotten what that looked like.

And so started your new life, with a man who took you in, fixed your broken parts, and made you whole again. Your fingers continued their trail over his freckles when you noticed his eyes were open now. He'd been watching you as your memory had taken up most of your mind. He could see the slight pain in his wife's eyes as he leaned forward to kiss your nose gently, then your lips.

"Morning, Mrs Murphy..."

"Morning Mr Murphy. Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Shh... I've told you before, stop apologising for everything y/n. It's okay. I was awake anyway."

"You were snoring."

"Semi-awake." You moved your hand down his chest, further down until it found its prize underneath the sheets.

"That's not the only 'semi' thing dear husband of mine..." He smirked.

"Well I do have the most beautiful woman in the world lying next to me completely naked except for my wedding ring, y/n." He leaned over and took your lips in his, hand reaching behind your neck to pull you closer as he flipped you onto your back.

"Didn't get enough of me last night Cill?"

"I'll never have enough of you... Ever..." He trailed his lips down to your collarbone, hands gently feeling your naked breasts, nipples hardening under his touch.

"You spent half the evening yesterday teasing me Cillian, get to it please..." You demanded, looking down at him with a ferocious need taking over you. He made a regular habit throughout the reception of pushing past you from behind much closer than he needed to, or placing his hand on your thigh higher than necessary under the table.. now was not the time for teasing.

"You're no fun y/n...." His mouth made its way to your core, spreading your legs gently he took you into his mouth, tongue immediately finding that sweet bundle of nerves, biting it gently before sucking it into his mouth. One finger easing its way through your folds, inside it slid like a hot knife through butter you were that wet.

"Ah.... There.. baby yes..." Your hands in his hair now, pulling him closer. His tongue, frankly assaulting you now. Groaning into you, creating vibrations that were driving you crazy. Your back began to arch, you could feel it approaching...

"Cill... I can't hold it.. Cill I'm com- oh shit...." You released over his lips, your legs shaking. Swiftly moving back up to your body, he entered you, holding your legs over his back you pulled him tighter, deeper as he thrust into you.

"Perfect... You feel perfect... My wife... Fuck yes..." He was groaning deep into your neck now, calling you his wife was turning you on even further.

"I'm yours as long as you don't fucking stop!" He chuckled as his thrusts became more powerful, feeling your walls contract around his cock as your second orgasm flooded you, quickly followed by his own as you lay together, completely spent, but completely swept away with how happy you were. You lay in his arms, fingers trailing over his toned stomach, playing with the hair on his chest.

"Thank you." You smiled.

"For what?"

"For saving me." He kissed the top of your head gently and pulled you closer.

"We saved each other y/n."

@queenshelby @ntmynouis @cloudofdisney @margoo0 @being-worthy

[kokororyuu]

miles apart [levi ackerman x reader]

synopsis: “you’re going to die,” “i know,” “you’re dying,” “i know, levi, i’m sorry,”

warnings ⚠️: major character death(s), SPOILERS up to season three, slight suggestive themes (its brief!!), brief description of gore

word count: 3.8k

author’s note: no, because,,, this was my first levi fanfic, and i’m immensely proud of it ‼️ if we ignore the “suggestive” part 😩😩 anyway, have fun reading, lovebugs <33

PART TWO: once more

whatever just happened, had happened too fast, and now both you and levi were laying side by side, miles apart from everyone else and the chaos that caused this whole mess in the first place.

you’re both injured bad from the war, and the stench of blood, both humans and titans alike, lays thick in the air. you find yourself nearly suffocating in it as you cough up what seems to be more blood, it’s metallic taste coating your lips and tongue in red.

you can barely feel your arms and legs, and you’re pretty sure they’re either broken or torn off from the fight. you pull your heavy lids open and stare blearily at the night sky, how many hours had passed since you two had been laying here like this?

you turn your head slowly, hearing the multiple cracks your joints made in the effort as your eyes trailed to levi’s face. he’s still in the same position, facing the sky with empty, soulless eyes. you reckon he was pondering something, how long were we gonna stay here? when will someone arrive to help us?

“levi?” you croak out, and he lets out a little rumble of acknowledgement. “are you okay?” what a stupid question... with how levi is, he definitely isn’t, but he was sure to make it seem like he was. he nods to the best of his ability, though he isn’t faring much better than you. gashes that gush with blood cut across his body in what seems to be parallel and equal in length, claws, of some sort, you assume. “good,” you whisper so softly that he almost doesn’t catch the murmured word.

your life seems to be flashing before your eyes quite slowly for the amount of time you’ve spent here bleeding out beside the man.

you recall the first time you caught him off guard.

it was a complete accident. as a member of levi’s squadron, you worked under him as a subordinate and did as he said, after all, he had chosen you to be on his team, and you put as much trust in him as he did in you.

you were bringing him some tea after you had dropped off a huge stack of paperwork in his office. you knew he needed it, after all, it had only been a few days after your most recent expedition and paperwork was a bore if you ever knew one.

a simple teapot and cup of black tea rested on the tray in your hands as you made your way from the kitchen to his office, acknowledging a few cadets that would respectfully greet you before going on their way. when you had finally made it to his door, you knocked gently before waiting for his usual question of your name and reason for entering.

a few seconds, maybe minutes passed, and you were beginning to think he wasn’t even there, but you hadn’t want the tea to go to waste, so you hesitantly pushed the door open with your foot, entering the sparkling clean room with tray in hand.

“captain levi?” you nearly bit your tongue (oluo would have laughed in your face if you did before biting down on his own) and froze with your head peeking inside the room at the sight of the man leaning his head against the back of his chair, his eyes closed and his usual frown wiped off his face.

it had you in a wonder, surprised that even humanity’s strongest (and grouchiest) soldier could have a face as calm as the one on his as he slept. you stepped as quietly as you could toward his desk, setting the tea down with care before you nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand wrapped around your wrist.

your eyes traveled up the scarred and rough hand, up the toned arm, and looked straight into narrowed grey eyes. “what are you doing here?”

“got you tea, captain,” your nerves were calm now, and you spoke with a grin, “thought you would need it with all the paperwork commander tosses at you,”

levi’s hand lingered on your wrist a little longer before he pulled away and carried the steaming cup to his lips in his strange cup hold that you’ve tried to mimic yet still can’t get right. he drank a little, his face ever so stoic. “tastes like shit, brat,” he said, though he made no move to drop the cup back into the tray and continued to sip away at the red orange liquid.

“thought you’d say that,” you turned to leave after saluting him, your hand wrapping around the doorknob before a mischievous impulse lit in you once more, “you know, captain,” he didn’t even glance up from the papers on his desk. “you look cute when you’re sleeping,” his gaze snapped up at that, and he was about to chew you out for making the comment, but to his dismay, you were already gone, having gotten the amusing response from him that you wanted.

there were many times after that where you’d make a little comment here and there, only to get an icy glare and a click of the tongue from levi, which wasn’t a problem to you at all, if anything, you found it the best part. the way he’d scowl at you and turn away, only to let you get away with it the very next day. it was like a little game the two of you would play, and you were winning if eye rolls, embarrassed blushes hidden behind callused hands, and, “tch,”’s counted as prizes.

you would’ve never thought he’d bite back, especially this far into the game.

“captain levi~!” you drew out his name with a little hop in your step. he didn’t stop walking, if anything, his pace sped up as he tried to leave you in the hallway. “captain!” you groaned childishly and ran after him. he turned the corner and into his office, leaving the door ajar. you grinned, it seemed he knew well enough you wouldn’t stop for a closed door. you opened it as soon as your hand touched the cool wood, and sang out, “levi~” you saw him standing by his desk and looking down at the papers that littered it. “i’ve got another joke for you—”

“—if you keep this up, i might actually get angry,” you halted in your tracks and clamped your mouth shut, angry? oh no, you weren’t trying to make him angry, only annoy him if anything. you knew, everyone knew to not get on levi’s bad side, and after seeing the man kick the titan shifter boy from the 104th cadets merciless, it’d be terribly stupid of you to try and anger him.

he dragged his fingertips across the tabletop and looked up through hooded eyes, “might even punish you,” you were stuck in a stupor at his words and how they obviously had implications for something else.

“but i guess you’d like that, hm? i wouldn’t want give you that satisfaction,” he seemed pleased with the way your cheeks flamed up and your jaw stayed dropped in shock. after he grabbed whatever he needed from his desk, he walked by you with a sly quirk of his lips, dragging a hand up to close your agape mouth. “close the door after you leave,” he called out before he disappeared out the door and down the hall.

-

from there on, your relationship had changed drastically. this game now had two players, and that new addition was the original target of the game himself. the teasing and playful jokes continued on for days, weeks, and you were having so much fun that you barely realized how much some people were noticing, including a certain bespectacled one.

“hey, hange!” you plopped next to them as you watched them fiddle with a little gadget. “what’s this?” you eyed curiously as hange laughed.

“my new creation! i’m trying to make something erwin asked for to help with his arm. you nodded, understanding immediately. the commander had lost his arm when the scouts went to save eren from a kidnapping. there was a few moments of silence before hange asked, “so… you and levi?”

you opened your mouth to retort but they beat you to it, “don’t deny it! even eren can tell, and he’s as dense as a rock!” you cowered from their accusing finger before huffing out a sigh.

“you know it doesn’t work like that, hange,” the mood dampened with your honest but hurtful words. you were right, it didn’t. with a world of titans and destruction, war like this, there would never be a second of peace, of life, of freedom. you could be alive and happy one day and then die and suddenly gone forever the next. and with levi being an ackerman, he was bound to survive longer than you, you just didn’t want to cause him more unnecessary pain.

hange hummed under their breath, “you’re right, but if it were me, i’d rather die knowing i had the chance and took it, than die letting it slip between my fingers,” they continued to tinker with the gadget as you pondered quietly on their words. they were right, but so were you, and now it was just up to the risk both sides were willing to take. what would happen if you ever confessed these buried feelings of yours to your terribly stoic captain?

-

in the end, you never said anything, at all. the two of you stayed at this sort of flirting and joking around type state. it was comfortable, you concluded, though you had to be honest, there were a few close calls where you felt you blushed too much, said too much, or gasped a little too loud when his touch lingered on you for too long.

you hadn’t said a word about your feelings for the man, and neither did he.

-

levi didn’t know when his heart had decided to let you in.

it was probably after erwin had passed away on a roof of a building with a gaping hole in his side that colored his cape and the white bandages around his abdomen red.

he brought his body back for a proper burial, but even then, levi couldn’t cry, nor let a single tear slip down his cheek. for a few weeks, even if he seemed put together, there was a heavy feeling that resided in his chest. no matter if he tried to sleep it away or drown himself in paperwork, it never left him.

it had been a rough night. there were complications with the imports from a faraway town in sina, and while hange was busy with things as the newly appointed commander, levi had to deal with the papers that came with the conflict.

he didn’t know how long he had been sitting before the fireplace in the mess hall, scratching away at the parchment under the warmth of the flickering fire that casted a warm orange hue around the room.

he clicked his tongue as another wave of aches hit his head before rubbing at his temples. erwin would’ve been better at handling this shit… his brow furrowed at his thoughts, you know better than that, there’s no bringing him back, you made the choice, levi.

levi didn’t regret his choice, but he had guessed the heavy presence of death had just stuck with him a little tighter this time around. it was fine, it would pass, at least, that was what he told himself.

during his turmoil, you had entered the mess hall as quietly as you could, “captain levi?” he looked up from the papers and pulled his hand away from his face with a quirked brow. “i brought you tea,” you spoke softly as to not agitate him any further. “i hope it tastes better than last time, i practiced,” you sent him a lopsided smile that you hoped would ease his frown, but instead, it brought the opposite.

the lines on his face became deeper as he scowled, “i don’t have time right now,” and the grumble of your name right after sounded harsh on both yours and even his ears. it was now your turn to pout. you definitely weren’t trying to mess around with him right now, not with all the stress and the recent death of one of his closest friends.

you sat there across from him at the table in silence for a few moments as he penned the paper. what could make him feel better? you thought quietly to yourself, your eyes raking over levi in search of something, any indicator to help him. a sudden idea popped in your head as you stood, making your way to stand behind him as you watched his eyes never leave the documents. “what are you doing?”

you reached over and plucked the pen from his hand, placing it down on the table and ignoring his glare, “just relax, levi, i’m gonna try and sort out these tense ass muscles of yours,” as soon as the words popped out of your mouth, your hands began to press into his shoulders, eliciting a little sound of surprise from levi. he almost immediately tensed back up at the foreign feeling but relaxed to the best of his abilities after a few pointed words from you.

“i’m not just here to get you tea, you know?” you worked out a knot in his neck, watching as his head lolled to the side to give you more room to work. “i had the same training as you, and i know how to handle paperwork, you could always ask if you need the help,” he hummed at your offer, and you only chuckled before getting back to his tense muscles.

levi let himself relax, more so than he probably ever had. your hands made their way up the base of his neck, and he let out a little sigh. he didn’t think this would feel this good, and he was considering what he could do to pay you back before realizing. what was the need to? you were doing the work of a subordinate for a superior, there was no need for him to treat you to anything.

but there was something that made levi realize that it wasn’t true, no matter how much every fiber in his body wanted to reject the idea. you were different, in your own weird way, and he couldn’t place his finger on it yet, but he decided he’d find out along the way.

“alright, you can work with me starting tomorrow, meet me here after dinner. if you’re late, i’m not letting you help again,” you smiled victoriously and pat his shoulders to signify you were done massaging them.

“alright then! see you tomorrow, captain,” you saluted him and shuffled out of the mess hall to leave him to his work.

the man held back a chuckle, sipping on the now lukewarm tea by his side. he had to admit, you were getting better at brewing his favorite drink.

levi’s heart felt a little lighter that night.

-

the two of you were almost impossibly closer after that. early mornings were spent with hange at important meetings and gatherings, most of the days were spent listening to hange rant about titans and ridiculous (but hilarious) and sometimes even useful plans, and late nights would be spent on paperwork and idle chatter by the warm fireplace in the mess hall.

the two of you would talk about nothing and everything, sometimes levi letting you talk his ear off as he added comments here and there or choosing to bask in each other’s silence as the flames beside you two crackled.

there were nights you fell asleep at the table, only to wake up in the middle of the night with a blanket that looked suspiciously like the one levi refused to share with you the night before around your shoulders that smelled of fresh laundry and lemons.

-

levi remembered all these little moments, including the time he had to yank a paper from under your arm to save it from your impending drool, or the multiple times he draped his cotton blanket over you and pulled it around your shoulders, his hands hesitating to pick off the dust that had resided on your cheek before gently brushing it off you and holding his breath when you’d twitch or move from his touch.

he still couldn’t really understand how it happened really, but spending time with you made him realize how much he liked the way you smiled at him no matter how annoyed he was with you, and the way you talked to him like he wasn’t humanity’s strongest soldier.

he felt normal, and strangely free.

and for some reason, he felt that if you ever disappeared from his sight, he’d lose this light feeling in his chest that outshined the bitter emotions he was always burdened with.

he didn’t want to lose you.

levi huffs, trying to control his unsteady breathing. there’s a feeling of discomfort that settles in his chest, and he’s not sure if it’s from just the cuts and bruises he obtained from the crash. you’re treating him like he’s fragile, like glass, and he hates it, sure, he’s broken, even he knows that, but he hates it.

humanity’s strongest soldier… he scoffs internally at himself, well, he feels pretty pathetic at the moment. he then outwardly scowls, gripping onto the pants of his torn uniform.

“you’re going to die,” he doesn’t mean for his words to sound so sharp, and he’s sure that his tone hurts you more than the gashes that litter your torso.

“i know,” he’s right, it hurts, and they seem to cut deeper than your wounds, as if someone struck your heart with a knife and twisted the blade.

his voice nearly breaks when he says this, but he stays... strong, “you’re dying,”

“i know, levi. i’m sorry,”

you know this man has been through so much, too much. he lost too many, has seen too much, he’s been through so many tragedies, and you still haven’t seen him cry, not once, and not now as you lay beside him, shivering and keeping your eyes open enough to watch him glare up at the night sky.

one last attempt, you think to yourself. you need to get his attention before it’s too late, before you fade away and disappear, but you can already feel your conscious slipping through your fingertips and your eyes drooping.

“levi…” your voice sounds pained when he stays turnt away from you and looks up at the moon, “i’m proud of you,” levi’s heart squeezes and so does his eyes, he doesn’t want to hear your soft voice right now, nor look at your mangled body, or hear the shouts of soldiers swinging around on their odm gear or the battle cries as they slice into titans’ napes.

you bite back a cry at his act of ignorance to your pleas for him to just look at you, and fall silent as your energy drains along with the blood that comes from you and him and soak into the earth. you meant those words, you mean what you said, and you beg him with your eyes focused on his high cheekbones to just spare you a glance while his stay glued to the twinkling stars.

it becomes so quiet, that levi begins to think you’ve already kicked the bucket with how he can barely hear your breathing.

he’s already preparing himself to do what he usually does, steel himself against the terrible emotions of survivor’s guilt and sorrow. every time he feels the twinge of depression and desperation creep up and wrap itself around his heart, he escapes to his mind, the logical part of him. the part that keeps him miles apart from everything, distance, safety.

he does it so much that you know, and you can tell he’s doing it right now with how tense his brow is and how the nails of the hand which lays between you digs into his palm. he’s closing himself off again, even after all these years you’ve spent together as comrades, partners in crimes, and what you hope was as friends.

you try to distract yourself some more, with anything really, the way his hair, though covered in blood seems to flow seamlessly to the sides of his head, revealing his undercut, and his eyes that stare silently into the endless blue sky, or the familiar smell of citrus and fresh laundry that you get from him even with the layers of smoke that are wafting from the ongoing battle burning your lungs or the smell of blood still seeping out from the both of you.

you want to hold onto the lingering hope that he’ll turn to you and at least say one last goodbye, or say those unspoken feelings he’s always hidden behind cool grey eyes, but he doesn’t say a word.

time is running out, and you need to say this, say this before you leave him like everyone else. levi’s fingers twitch when he hears you take in a sudden breath, your voice coming out quiet, weak, frail.

“the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” levi’s eyes open, and his head snaps toward you, and he regrets it, so bad. he manages to catch the exact moment the light, the life, fades from your very eyes he always thought were so gorgeous.

he’s lost his light.

you’re gone.

levi feels this terrible grip on his heart that makes him lose his breath and his head pound worse than it already is, and he chokes on the blood that gushes from his lips. his hand reaches out to you weakly, his arms, losing their strength, and he barely has the energy to keep his eyes open.

he almost can’t bring himself to do it, but he leans forward to press a shaky and hesitant kiss on the top of your head that he hopes conveys all the unsaid confessions he could’ve showered you with before your passing. his lips are warm, while your body turns pale and blue, and he finds it ironic how someone as kind and bright as you now seems dull in comparison to him.

as unshed tears pool at the corners of his eyes, your lifeless ones bore into his for the last time before he pushes them close with a touch of his hands over your eyes.

his heart, it hurts so bad, more than it ever has, and no matter how much he tries to push down the lump in his throat or the burning of his eyes and heart, it persists. he slowly falls back into his previous position, your corpse beside him losing its warmth and his steel grey eyes facing the moon once more.

the fuzzy lines around the full moon start to blur as he blinks a few times, the hues of white mixing with the blue of the sky, “it is…”

and finally, he lets himself cry.

explanations

“the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”

this is a more poetic way to say “i love you” in japanese :D

“it is...”

this is essentially “i love you too” in reply to “the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

[anthologyoflucas]

Fun fact number 4

I’ve had Alya and Emilia’s character arcs planned since before the blog existed. They were characters I made when I was gonna try to play D&D but my attention span made it impossible for me to play so I sidelined them before deciding to write them instead.

Elwin and Thyme’s stories also have been fully planned since before the blog, the only difference being that Thyme was going to bea bit more of an asshole in the D&D campaign (still less than Elwin but they would be more or less okay with his violence) and I mellowed them out and gave them morals and their own plotline to struggle with.

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #26: Cracked: Katsuki Bakugou

Bakugou’s a controlling bastard. But every now and then, something slips.

Characters: Katsuki Bakugou x f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!) aged-up characters, bratty sub!Bakugou, soft domme!reader, bondage, overstimulation, begging, cum play, dry orgasms

Notes: We are finally caught up! This may be the same reader and the same Bakugou as yesterday’s fic. So... let that mean what it will. 👀 Navigating Bakugou as a sub is definitely interesting, but I like to think that, if he can be vulnerable for you, he can be a switch for you, too. 

EDIT: Forgot to add! Today’s prompt was “Overstimulation.” But that will become very obvious to you imminently. 

Kinktober Masterlist

Bakugou’s a controlling bastard. But every now and then, something slips.

Some nights, he comes home with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Hero work is high-pressure. Life-or-death, always. As a kid, it was all about the glory for him. But now, it’s been brought abruptly to Bakugou’s attention that there’s no saving everybody.

When the pressure of control sends cracks spidering through the veneer of his confidence, he has you to fall back on. You can assume control. You can take care of him. For the world, he’s strong. Always.

Sometimes, here, you get to be the strong one.

Tonight, he’s been quiet and fitful- needy, even if he isn’t very good at showing it. He gets temperamental when you draw too far from him. So, after dinner, you get the handcuffs. And to your immense delight, he relents.

It’s better when he’s ready to admit that he needs it. It means he’s going to let you help him, without having to bust through his iron-clad walls first.

By the time his resolve breaks, you’ve got him cuffed soundly to your bed. You’re perched in his lap, riding his cock slow and smooth. He’s drawing into himself, so you’re testing his patience. It’s one of the easiest ways to find out what he really wants. Katsuki is transparent, when his patience wears thin.

“That’s it,” you praise, even if he’s not ready to give you what you want. “Good boy. You’re such a good boy for me, Katsuki, letting me give it to you slow like this.”

His jaw ticks. His eyes crackle like bright, hot flame as he glares up at you. Every so often leading up to this moment, he’s let out a little grunt of sensation, but the look he gives you now implies that you’ve made an especially low blow.

“So patient,” you croon, giving a deep, low scoop of your hips against his. He groans through clenched teeth with hard lines of muscle standing out in his shoulders as he strains against the cuffs. “Waiting so well for me like this, Katsuki. My perfect, patient-“

He snaps.

Planting his unbound feet on the mattress, Bakugou gives a demanding roar and thrusts his hips violently against yours. It’s awkward and fumbling with nothing to brace against, but he can’t hold out any longer.

“Just- fucking- get it- over- with-“ he snarls between brutal pumps of his hips. Above him, you’re doing your best to fight the pleasure. You grab his hips and pin them down hard, pulling yourself abruptly off of him and watching as he growls and squirms.

“Tell me what you want,” you practically bark. Katsuki’s face is scarlet.

“Shut up,” he snaps back. “I said it already.”

“No. Tell me all of it.”

“God dammit. Just fucking give it to me.”

“What? Give you what?”

“Too much!” Bakugou blurts the words and then immediately shrinks into the mattress, sullen and embarrassed, “I want… too much again. Okay?”

“Baby,” you purr, softening immediately. He’s struggled through his own insecurities and given you what you asked for. Now, it’s time to reward him. You lean down and push a tender kiss against his damp forehead, sliding a palm up and down his heaving chest.

“You want me to overstim you?”

The flush is creeping down to his chest now. He glares at you, mortified, but pushing himself.

“Yeah.”

Much better.

You sense the root of his request easily. He needs to be exhausted tonight. He wants to fall into your hands. It’s been a long time since he let you take control like this, so he must really need it.

“Okay,” you soothe. You swing a leg back over his hips, lining his cock up with your slick pussy. “Alright. I’ve got you, babe.”

This time, when your body sucks him down, you don’t hold back. You hold him by the throat and ride him viciously, and he meets you at every stride. You revel in the way your flesh slaps against his, the soft creak of the mattress springs beneath you.

“That’s my baby,” you rasp, bracing your other palm on his broad chest and relishing the scrape of your clit over his body. It’s pushing you to climax far faster than you’d anticipated, but he’s starting to pull at his restraints again.

He’s not far off, either.

It’s the quiet gasp of your name from his lips that makes you sure.

“Almost-“ he chokes, and you press a little more firmly against his throat, drawing the restriction as tight as possible right before he cums. His chin wobbles a little as he lifts his head, bristling beneath you from mere sensation.

You hit your peak first. But he doesn’t follow far behind. As you fall forward against him, your pussy seizes hard around his shaft and milks the pleasure from his body. His wrists jerk against the cuffs- fighting his innate need to grab you hard while he cums. He plants his heels and shoves his hips up hard against yours, and his cum rolls down your insides and coats his shaft as he pumps it slowly into you.

“Good…” You’re breathless, pushing yourself up onto your hands to force the post-orgasm weight from your limbs. “Good one, baby.”

You stroke your fingertips down the side of his sweaty cheek and push a tender kiss to his pink mouth.

You’re just getting started.

Drawing yourself slowly off of him, you settle onto your knees between his legs. You resist the urge to lick your lips.

“Look how much you made for me,” you croon. His cock is slick and messy from his own cum- and yours- and you wrap your palm around his twitching shaft. He’s starting to go soft, but as soon as you squeeze, Bakugou bristles, and you can feel the surge in his muscles as his body reacts involuntarily to the sensation.

“So slippery,” you purr. “So slick for me. Let me give you another one, okay?”

You tighten your grip- firmer than usual and spurred on by the lubrication that his cum provides. He’s already trembling beneath your fingers, but he’s taking his pleasure in stride. He asked for this, after all. You plan to deliver.

“Gah!” He shudders when you start to stroke. You’re jerking him off in earnest, gripping and tugging and using every ounce of that lubrication to your advantage. Your palm slips easily over his tender flesh, and it’s not long before he’s flushed and twitching in your hand again. Fresh swells of precum break through his thickening cum.

It’s when he’s getting ready for his second orgasm that Bakugou starts to whimper.

It’s your favourite sound of his. Prized because of its rarity. You can count on one hand the number of times you’ve managed to pull that sound from him, and it’s almost perfectly aligned with the amount of times that he’s let you do this to him.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting tender already,” you purr, keeping up your steady rhythm. Squeezing just a little tighter, for good measure. His hips jump into your palm and his toes start to curl.

“T-tender,” he stutters, “g-gonna… baby…”

The last syllable gets drawn out as his body arches clean off the bed. He tenses, and his cock shoots thick ropes of cum over your hand and across his belly. There’s more than you anticipated, given the fact that he’d just cum already, but you’re not complaining.

“Holy shit, Katsuki.” You dip your fingers into the mess on his firm belly, slicking fresh drops of cum across his cock. His whole body jerks, hard, when you touch his cock, and you draw your eyes quickly to his face. You want to drink in his expression.

He’s irresistible like this. His whole face has gone maroon, his lower lip pulled tightly between his teeth. His eyes are all heady and soft, blown out with desire and tender sensation. It makes you want to stop, want to throw yourself into his arms and pepper him with kisses, but you know you can bring him further.

“You want my pussy again, babe?”

“Oh, God.” His eyes roll hard as he draws a tight breath through clenched teeth. You only grin wider.

“Come on, baby, I know you got it in you.”

He shoots you a wicked glare, not appreciating his own words when they’re turned on him. But he leads out a heady sigh.

“Just fuckin’ get it over with already.”

You’re far too happy to oblige. This time, you turn your back on him. You reach behind you to dip your fingers into the cum that pools in the grooves of his stomach, and slick some over your own tender folds.

“Jesus,” he snarls, and his cock twitches against your ass.

You ride him a little slower and steadier this time, knowing that your own pleasure is spent. But it doesn’t matter when this is about him. You want him to be so overwhelmed with pleasure by the end that he can’t handle anymore. You want him to break for you. If you take him to pieces, you can put him back together again the right way.

By the time he hits his third peak, the air of aggression and impatience has gone completely. He ruts his way through it with desperate whimpers of overstimulated pleasure, twitching weakly against you as more cum drools into your body.

You clean him up diligently afterward. After licking the mess from his stomach and thighs, you suck down his flushed shaft and he gives a sob of desperate sensation. He’s gone sensitive, so sensitive, but your mouth isn’t enough to hurt. It’s just gentle enough to drive him to that tender ecstasy- the place that feels impossible to reach, with bruised flesh such as his.

You suck diligently and slowly, grabbing the swell of his balls and making him shout for you. His pleasure builds anyway, and you brace your hands on his tensing thighs as he fusses and cries your name and shakes against your lips.

He gives you two bare spurts of thin, desperate cum. You swallow it eagerly and pull away, stroking his trembling thighs.

It’s working. The cracks grow deeper.

“You’re almost there, baby,” you promise, kissing the hard flesh beneath your palms. He starts.

“Almost?”

“One more for me,” you plead. “C’mon, Katsuki, you’ve got one more, right?”

“N-no,” he grits, looking almost teary as he lifts his head to find your gaze. “No, please. I-I can’t take anymore, sweetness, baby, please.”

Concern rises sour in the back of your throat. You take a deep breath and crawl out from between his legs.

“Katsuki,” you whisper, tender as a lamb. You drop to the edge of the bed and push your forehead against his, reaching forward to twine the fingers of one hand with his.

He squeezes your fingers, carefully and distinctly.

Three times. I love you.

That’s your green light.

“Here,” you soothe, reaching into the bedside drawer and producing a bottle of cooling, water-based lube. “Let’s make it a little easier on you this time, okay?”

You squeeze a generous dollop into your palm and rub it between your fingers. When you get between his thighs again, his cock has started to droop in protest. He’s spent- far beyond spent- but you plan to push him through that. It’s what he’s asked for. What he needs from you.

“That must feel better.” You smooth your lubed hands over his cock- the skin is molten- and he fusses again, bristling beneath your fingers and letting out a fitful little moan of indignance. His fingers curl above the soft cuffs that bind him.

“Fuck,” he gasps, but as you squeeze and massage his exhausted flesh, he begins to stir to life again. Even the sensation of arousal seems painful, given the way he squeezes his eyes shut and throws his head to one side.

“Don’t worry, Katsuki,” you promise, “I’m gonna take it nice and slow. I know you can do this, baby, I know you’ve got this for me.”

It doesn’t take him long at all to struggle and fuss his way to a peak.

You touch him in long, smooth, easy strokes, gliding your hand through the cool lube and letting him squirm between your fingers. Every breath he draws is shuddering. His skin is kissed all over with blush. You’ve never seen him look so desperate, so vulnerable before.

It’s no surprise that, as his thighs draw up and his hips shoot downward, as he thrashes against his restraints and sobs your name like a desperate prayer, he produces nothing.

His cock twitches and strains in your hand. His balls draw close, tight and protective. He’s coming, it’s clear, but his orgasm passes without a drop of cum.

“Please,” he begs as the desperate ache of a dry climax settles into his body. You pull your hands from him.

“No more,” he continues. “Please, god, I-I got nothin’ left for you.”

“I know.”

You unbuckle him from his restraints, leaving wet little fingerprints across the supple leather. As soon as he’s free, he rolls onto his side and grabs you tight.

“You’re okay,” you soothe, settling your sticky palms on his back. It doesn’t matter how messy you get- you’re going to clean him up soon, anyway. “You’re alright, baby, I got you.”

“Fuck,” he shudders into the crook of your shoulder. “Gonna fuckin’ get you back for this.”

You grin against his sweat-slicked skin and pull him a little closer.

“I don’t doubt that for a second.”

[revengeisourlullaby]

If I Never Knew You Pt.2

Pt. 1   Pt. 2    Pt.3   Pt.4   Pt.5   Pt.6

Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, arranged marriage plot, kinda royal au, some fighting, secret relationship, angst.

a/n: Here is part 2! I might upload part three tonight. I’m so excited to see where this goes. It seems that the first part is doing pretty good so I might upload them faster. As always requests/asks are open! Just give me little time to get to them. Enjoy! 

Word count: 1.8K

Walking through the town, you felt an inordinate wave of liberation flow through not only you but also through Loki. It felt as if the weight of the world released itself from your shoulders. Confidence and strength soaring through the air. Loki lost his stiffness, his typical carefree nature restored once you became more grounded. 

“See, not so bad, right?”

Shaking your head, a cynical chuckle escaped your throat

“For you maybe. All these eyes on us is kinda gross.”

“It’s only because the most attractive prince has finally decided to show his face.”

You looked at Loki, amusement absent from your face. He laughed, a belly laugh almost. It was a free sound you had yet to hear from him and when you did your face painted your emotions before you had the chance to process them yourself. 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yes, but you, my dear, tolerate it. So who's really at a loss in this situation?”  

“Well, it’s not me.”

“It couldn’t be me Y/N.”

“Looks like we’re both losers then Loki.”

You were approaching the main entrance of the palace and began to wonder if Loki was considering bringing you inside.

“We lost when we fell in love with each other Y/N. Listening to the heart is the most foolish thing one can do and yet here we are. Charging full speed with our eyes closed hoping we don’t trip over anything.”

Guiding you up the steps of the massive golden structure Loki called ‘home’ your nerves struck up again. 

“Seems to make sense that if we’re going full speed, might as well exploit our courtship in the place where you will eventually be spending all your time in. And with all things considered, sneaking you in is...counterproductive, to say the least.”

Exhaling, you brought yourself together and walked in front of Loki. His hand rested on your lower back escorting you inside. Grabbing fabric in your fists, you hiked your dress up a bit making sure you didn’t step on it. Walking through the main threshold, you realized you were worrying for nothing. The halls were massive, the ceiling stretching higher than you ever imagined.

 It would be a miracle if you were to run across someone you knew in a place so vast.

 You looked around in shock at everything you were being hidden from. The thought of it hopefully being yours to share with Loki in freedom and not in constraint was illuminating. One day to not only be openly in love with him but to call him your husband. Your partner for life was the solace you needed. Everything looked new to you because you had only ever seen the hallways in the dead of night to share evening visits with Loki, being as slick as one could, and it always working in your favor.

“Wow, it looks so different here with the sun shining through. Always felt like a runaway sneaking through the backways and balconies to get to your quarters.”

“And now you get to walk there like every other person in this place. Quite fancy isn’t it.”

“Okay, I didn’t ask for the smart mouth, you ass.” 

“Comfortable, are we?” 

“With you? Always.”

Finally, you two had walked up to Loki’s quarters. Opening the doors he welcomed you in and you welcomed yourself to his bed. Flopping down on the edge of it, the edge of your dress flying up and you went down. Hearing the door shut, you lifted your head up to face Loki at the door, only thing was he wasn’t there. Furrowing your brow you sat up on your elbows and by the time you looked behind you, it was too late. 

“Boo.”

Your body reacted before you could control your response. Your stomach fell to your ass, eyes widening and a sharp inhale all followed one another before you finally shook off the anxiety and realized that Loki had popped up behind you. 

“You asshole! What if I screamed, huh?”

Loki laughed falling over on the bed, your reaction to him obviously something of hilarity to him. You rolled your eyes and pushed his shoulder in and began to pout. He caught his breath and calmed down enough so he could respond back to you. 

“You’re only screaming for one thing and unfortunately, darling, the sun’s still out. So, someone will have to wait, considering they’re so concerned about being caught.”

Loki raised his eyebrow and your mouth was agape. You squinted your eyes and an idea popped in your head. Rolling over on your knee you placed yourself on top of Loki's lap, resting your hands on his chest stealing his smirk for this moment in time.

“I can control myself...you on the other hand, once you start you can't stop.”

To emphasize your point, you rolled your hips into his and brought your body down to level his. Reaching his ear you whispered

“If you can find containment within yourself, a prize will await you this evening.”

You moved from his ear and hovered in front of his face, your lips ghosting one another. You pulled back a little bit to stare into his eyes. They were hypnotic no matter how many times you saw them. Loki’s hand trailed up your backside squeezing the mound of your ass before continuing up your back. His hand finding refuge at the nape of your neck. He pulled you back to his face, a gentleness about the entire interaction, and kissed you. 

There was a different kind of spark in this kiss, it felt electric, coursing through your veins and settling in your brain as a memory you’d never forget. Losing yourself in the thrill of it all, your hips began moving against his. Your building arousal creating a fog between you. The more you ground into the god below you, the more apparent his bulge was. Flipping you on your back Loki now held the reins of the situation. 

“Now, don’t tempt me Y/N. You have a habit of teasing and where does it always leave you?”

“At your mercy.”

“Clever girl. So if you like to save this accolade you mentioned for later, mind your manners, my love.”

He leaned down to kiss you as to punctuate his words, ending the discussion with the pull of your lips between his teeth. Hissing through the pleasure you couldn’t help but roll your hips up towards him, now being the one desperately craving friction. Testing the waters, you wanted to see how far you could push Loki to his limits. Your hand found the scruff of his neck and scrunched his hair. Sucking a breath in between his teeth, he pulled back a light laugh following. 

“I’m aware of what you’re attempting to do Y/N, and I think it would be fair for you to know that it’s a feeble attempt. Reason being, now you’re the one left in ardor.”

Loki pulled off of you but made sure to drive his point home by sliding down your body and resting between your thighs before fully standing up. You lied on the bed in slight agony of your current predicament. You sighed and brought yourself up on your elbows. Looking ahead of you, you saw Loki sitting in the massive throne chair that was in his room. It was gothic in nature yet still regal with the back of the chair rising well up behind him and the arms of it embellished with Asgardian design. 

His position in the chair was more than purposeful. His legs were spread wide, his arm resting on the arm of the throne and his hand propping up his head to look not only at you but out on the balcony. The late evening sun illuminating his eyes, bringing a whole new meaning to golden hour. He looked breathtaking and it was as if you were falling in love with him all over again.

The lust you were previously feeling was now amplified but also accompanied with adoration for your lover. You raised yourself from up off the bed and waltzed over to him. A fire behind your eyes and in your presence but you had yet to act on it. Coming in front of him, you kneeled in front of him and looked up. Two could play at this game. Your hands slid up his legs, paying special attention to his thighs and feather lightly rubbed on this. His eyes were boring through yours and you felt small under his gaze. 

The silence between you was telling, that if you were to continue with your actions there would be no waiting until later. You wanted to enjoy the silence between the two of you, so you turned your back to him now sitting on your behind, and crossed your legs. You leaned your head back so it fell in between his legs, but before fully getting settled you reached for the two books resting on the side table in front of the chair and placed them in your lap. You wiggled your hips and settled into a comfortable position. 

Resting your head back, you craned it further attempting to look at Loki. He rolled his eyes knowing exactly what you were asking for. 

“You know, if I knew how often you’d beg for these I would have never indulged in your initial request.”

“You and I both know this is enjoyable for both parties.”

Loki huffed, a silent agreement without saying explicitly that you were right. Loki began to rub your temples. You closed your eyes enjoying the sensation and the loving intent of his actions. You finally felt calm and safe compared to the rest of the day which was riddled with anxiety and panic and the nagging fear of all the ‘what ifs’ you came up with. You had exhausted yourself and this simple action put you at ease. You opened your eyes for a moment and glanced down at the books in your lap trying to decipher which one was Loki’s. 

Catching a glimpse on the side you realized the one on the bottom was Loki’s current project at hand. Grabbing it, you twisted your arm behind you and slid the book into Loki’s lap knowing that sooner or later you would end up dozing off and you figured that getting this out the way would make it easier for both of you. 

“You are truly something else.”

“And you love me for it Loki.” 

“Can’t argue that one.”

A small smile painted your face before it fell back into its relaxed state and you began to drift off. Every little thing that had happened today made you feel that you were a few steps closer to getting what you so desired with Loki.

[robininthelabyrinth]

For the prompts! Wen Qing/Jiang Cheng, accidental marriage that still has to be honoured for political reasons.

Wen Qing was a proud woman, talented and arrogant in it – but all of her medical skills didn’t help defend her when she refused to raise a sword in the Wen sect’s war of aggression. She’d been offered a post as the head of a supervisory office, with assurances that she could offer her medical services to prisoners of war as well as Wen cultivators, but it hadn’t taken her long to realize that her prisoners of war were being sent to the Fire Palace and then back to her, her medical assistance being used to prolong their pain rather than end it.

She “carelessly” permitted a break-out of the most grievously wounded and, out of shame for having failed, resigned her post. Instead, she went to join battlefields, offering what care she could to whoever she saw on the basis that she couldn’t be sure if those cultivators in different colors weren’t secretly Wen spies.

It was not a position that made her very popular.

She was still surnamed Wen and Wen Ruohan had once prized her talents in peacetime; no matter how much disgrace she was in, it wasn’t enough to lead to her immediate execution, or that of her loyal subordinates. She was safe enough from that, and from the base physical abuse that other women in the Wen battle camps faced –

But not safe from everything.

The attack on the Jiang sect had been brutal; she hadn’t known about it in advance and had rushed over as soon as she could to preserve what lives she could, even though Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao laughed at her frenzy as pointless – the order had been to wipe them out.

She smiled in the face of their mockery and sent her subordinates to help “clean up” instead, smuggling as many of those still living as she could out of the Lotus Pier in boats filled with corpses. Wen Ning was especially good at it, since Wen Chao seemed incapable of remembering either his name or his face for more than a handful of moments at any given time, and seemed to generally assume that someone had given him proper orders to do…something.

It only worked in the spaces where no one was paying attention, though. There wasn’t anything she could do when the guards brought back Jiang Cheng to be the star entertainment in Wen Chao’s celebration of his victory. She couldn’t save him.

She couldn’t even save herself.

“Qing-jie,” Wen Chao called, laughing; Wang Lingjiao at his side was positively cackling, tears in her eyes. “We found you a husband to match you, Qing-jie – look at him, a perfect fit for you: beautiful and useless! Say ‘thank you, Wen-gongzi’.”

Jiang Cheng might be beautiful, underneath the tears and the blood that covered him, the ruin of his chest and back, the bruises that stained his flesh, but his eyes were empty and dull – as dead as the golden core inside of him that was no more. That wasn’t something her medicine could fix, even if Wen Chao would be inclined to let her try.

“Thank you, Wen-gongzi,” Wen Qing said politely. “Do you want me to take him out of your sight?”

That would have been too easy.

Her subordinates had all been sent away; she was alone, outnumbered and helpless, and with Wen Zhuliu standing close by, his eyes a little too intense as he stared at her, she didn’t dare protest – not even when they wrapped her in a banner of red silk and had Wang Lingjiao stick pins in her hair, a mockery of a bride’s wear, or when they made her kneel down in front of them and bow three times: to the Jiang ancestral shrine and to Wen Chao as representative of her ancestors, to the heavens and to the earth, to Jiang Cheng…

He was barely conscious for the process, which wasn’t a surprise – the discipline whip was not a toy to be played with lightly – but he was aware enough to flinch away from her when they were thrown into a room together, a cheap storage room with nothing but a bed inside, the door locked behind them.

“I’m not going to touch you,” she said to him. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t do that.”

He looked at her dully. “Do you have a choice? They’ll check.”

It was Wen Qing’s turn to flinch. It would be just like Wang Lingjiao’s vile bitterness – this entire thing stunk of her plotting – to get some grannies to come in later to confirm that Wen Qing had, in fact, lost her purity. That was the goal of this, surely, in addition to humiliating her for having been better liked by Wen Ruohan than the useless Wen Chao had ever been, son or not – after something like this, she would never be able to marry anyone else.

Her husband would be beautiful, but useless, and he’d hate her for doing this to him in the bargain.

She closed her eyes and felt the tears drip down her face. “I’ve been helping people escape, where I can. There’s not much I can do, just little things, but – some people have lived that would have otherwise died. That’s worth something, isn’t it..?”

She shook her head when she realized she was trying to talk him into agreeing to it. She wanted to live, yes, but…at this cost?

“I won’t –”

“Just do it,” he said, cutting her off. “I’m useless now. If you can help even a few people live…that’s more than I can do.”

He was as much of a virgin as she was, and they fumbled together through it, neither of their bodies cooperating to make the process easier – he was in pain and in mourning, she was revolted by the idea of the rape she was committing, but in the end they managed it.

Wang Lingjiao came the next morning with the grannies, triumphant smile on her face, and of course she laughed at Wen Qing, pretending as if it had all been a joke that Wen Qing had taken far too seriously – but now that she’d gone ahead and lost her purity, well, what could be done..?

“Is there anything else you want?” Wen Qing asked coolly, not letting the vile things pouring out of Wang Lingjiao’s mouth touch her. When it came to questions of purity, at least she had bowed to the heavens and earth before touching her husband – Wang Lingjiao couldn’t even say that much.

Perhaps Wang Lingjiao sensed her barely-hidden disdain, and realized the cause for it, because she bristled and ordered Wen Qing to accompany her for the day, treating her like a maid in the guise of giving her ‘marital advice’ – and in the end the only good thing that came out of it was that Wen Qing had a very good alibi when her husband mysteriously disappeared.

Wang Lingjiao slapped her a few times on the basis that she must have forgotten to lock the door, but even hypocrites like them couldn’t concoct any way for this to actually be Wen Qing’s fault.

She went back to her room later that evening, and found her brother had come back at some point.

“Did you..?” she started, then stopped, because of course he had. Her little brother was good at saving people. “Thank you.”

He shrugged, averting his eyes. “Jiejie, they said –”

“A joke,” she said firmly, rolling her eyes. “You know Wen Chao’s sense of humor. So I did a bit of bowing, so what? It’s not like it counts if you don’t mean it.”

Wen Ning looked relieved, then glanced from side to side, his shoulders hunching. “Jiejie…do you think you can come away with me for a little while?”

“Where to?”

“Back to Yiling,” he said. “There’s a patient there that could use your help.”

Wen Qing repressed a sigh at how obvious her little brother was – he wasn’t born to be a spy. But she found a reason to make some excuses (Wang Lingjiao was pouting over her plan not being funny anymore, and convinced everyone to agree as long as it meant Wen Qing would leave) and she went to Yiling, where Wei Wuxian waited.

Where he asked her to –

Well, at least her husband wouldn’t be useless anymore, she argued to herself, and pretended that what she was doing wasn’t every bit as much a violation as what she had done to him in that spare room.

He probably wouldn’t forgive her, if he knew – but he wouldn’t know.

He would go his way, she would go hers, and they wouldn’t meet again.

She thought that way for a long time.

Long enough to run to Wei Wuxian, who owed her a favor, to rescue her brother – long enough to follow him back to the Burial Mounds – long enough to expect a siege.

She hid behind a tree when she saw the flash of purple that was Jiang Cheng walking up the mountain.

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian said in greeting – he looked calm, but she could tell he was nervous. “You’re here about the Wen remnants, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said, and he looked irritated. “I’m here to bring you back to Yunmeng.”

“I’m not going –”

“Without them, yes, I figured,” Jiang Cheng snapped. “The entire cultivation world knows that by now, I think. I told them you were acting under my orders.”

Wei Wuxian’s jaw dropped. “You did what?! Jiang Cheng! The whole point of doing it without telling you was so that you could avoid being blamed for it!”

“Maybe you should have told me what you were planning first,” Jiang Cheng said snidely. “Then we could have coordinated better. Are you going to get moving or not?”

“Wen Ning can’t be moved yet,” Wei Wuxian said automatically, then frowned. “You really told everyone that you permitted my actions? What – is the Jin sect upset?”

Jiang Cheng just gave him a look.

“Of course they’re upset,” Wei Wuxian answered his own question. “But…you’re here, and you want to bring everyone back to the Lotus Pier. You – convinced Jin Guangshan to drop his claim?”

Jiang Cheng nodded.

“How?”

“I told him that we discovered that he’d accidentally kidnapped my wife,” Jiang Cheng said.

Wen Qing covered her face with her hands, stifling a yell in her throat. He couldn’t be serious!

“Your – wife?” Wei Wuxian said blankly. “You…married?”

Nothing they’d encountered so far had stumped him – not her request, not the Jin sect, not the Burial Mounds – but apparently the thought of Jiang Cheng having tied the knot was all it took to break him.

“To who?!”

“Wen Qing,” Jiang Cheng said. “She’s here, isn’t she?”

Wen Qing made a face, gathered her courage, and walked out from behind the tree.

“Sandu Shengshou,” she said politely. He nodded back at her in a way that would be all regal and dignified except for the way his cheeks flushed pink at the sight of her.

Which was better than she expected, honestly – she wouldn’t have held it against him to pull out his sword and stab her.

“…Jiang Cheng, you can’t do that,” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. “You can’t just say you’re married to someone! Wen Qing has a reputation to think about, what if she wants to get married someday –”

“She’s already married,” Jiang Cheng said flatly. “To me.”

“Jiang Cheng!”

“You don’t have to honor it,” Wen Qing said before Wei Wuxian could say too much. “It was under duress; no one would hold you to it.”

“I hold myself to it,” Jiang Cheng said, crossing his arms in what was probably meant to be impressive but came off as defensive. “We bowed to the heavens and earth together. I’m not going to – it counts. At least to me, it counts.”

He hesitated, even as Wei Wuxian’s head swiveled between the two of them faster than an open window in a thunderstorm, his mouth gaping open like a fish.

“I mean – I’m not going to demand anything from you,” Jiang Cheng continued, ducking his head. “Just, you know, politically, I thought – if you wanted –”

Wen Qing can’t quite keep herself from smiling. Her husband was even more charming when he was being extremely awkward and ill-footed than he was when he was being impressive.

“I’d be happy to go back to Yunmeng with you,” she said, and he smiled – he was rather attractive when he smiled, actually. Wen Chao hadn’t been wrong when he’d called him beautiful. “But only after Wei-gongzi finishes with my brother.”

“What is he doing with your brother?” Jiang Cheng asked.

There was a little bit of a fuss after that, what with Wen Ning taking that moment to wake up as a fierce corpse and just barely recover his consciousness – Wen Qing secretly suspected he’d waited for the most dramatic moment to do so, and if this one hadn’t been dramatic enough, he would’ve waited longer – but in the end it all worked out.

The Lotus Pier was a much better place to rest than the Burial Mound, no matter what Wei Wuxian’s grandiose plans for a home there had been; Jiang Cheng arranged for rooms for all of them near the main family home and told his disciples to keep an eye out for anyone who even thought to make trouble.

Wen Ning was shown to a room not far from Wei Wuxian’s.

Wen Qing –

Jiang Cheng stared at the hallway in front of him, body stiff and cheeks bright red. “My sister’s room is on the right,” he said. “She’s currently staying at Koi Tower, and I don’t believe she’s coming back – an engagement is in the works between her and the Jin sect heir, and anyway even if she was, she wouldn’t mind you taking it for a while.”

“Mm,” Wen Qing said. “And which one’s yours?”

Jiang Cheng was adorable when he started stuttering about how he really wasn’t going to pressure her into –

“I meant to sleep,” she clarified and poked him. “Besides, given what happened between us, I would understand entirely if you’re not attracted to me –”

“You’re extremely pretty and I like you a lot but I don’t know how to deal with that!” he yowled.

“We can date,” Wen Qing decided, not even pretending not to smile. “Take it slow – get to know each other.”

That plan lasted exactly one shichen.

(Wen Qing wasn’t sure how they’d started kissing, but Jiang Cheng had valiantly asked her if she was sure when about half their clothing was off, which was very noble of him but also extremely getting in the way of what she currently wanted, so she’d justified it with a half-assed excuse about needing to make sure they’d be compatible as marriage partners and he’d found the argument convincing. To no one’s surprise, sex was much better without the duress and one party being half-dead from torture.)

Afterwards, though, when he was running his fingers through her hair, she felt the slight stirring of her conscience. If they were going to be married – originally forced and politically convenient as the marriage might be – was it really acceptable to go into it with lies?

“…I know why Wei Wuxian didn’t tell you about coming to help me,” she said, and Jiang Cheng’s fingers stopped. “And about why he hasn’t been helping you here. I’ll talk to him tomorrow and tell him he needs to tell you about it. You should know in advance that you’re probably going to be very angry when you hear it.”

“I’m just happy to know that there is a secret reason,” Jiang Cheng confessed, his voice low. “I thought – never mind.”

Wen Qing didn’t need to know all of Jiang Cheng’s history to know what it probably was: he’d thought the problem was with him; that somehow, through some failing, he’d driven Wei Wuxian away.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” she said. “He’ll tell you, or I will. We’ll all have a great big fight about it and then we can decide what we’re going to do next.”

“I like how practical you are,” Jiang Cheng said. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

Wen Qing squinted at him. “You barely know anything about me. How can you have a favorite?”

“I know lots of things. I like the way you pretend that you don’t want to strangle people when you think they’re being stupid –”

“You’re not allowed to like that!”

Maybe this marriage had a chance of working out after all.

[getlitaesthetic]

I’m interested to see what the brothers would be like if they had a child (probably with the mc purposely or accidentally) and the fucked up family dynamics that would come of it, like would they full on discard the child? Raise them to be just like their dad? I wouldn’t be surprised if Beel pulled a full on Kronos from Greek mythology

Also asked by an anon: “What if mc somehow got pregnant? How would the brothers be towards them during their pregnancy and how will they deal with the child?”

(Undateables version found Here)

Lucifer

It is on purpose, and Lucifer is the most excited to be having a child.

Will carefully monitor MC’s diet, exercise, leisure activities, everything they do to an extent far surpassing anything he’s done before.

He becomes obsessed with the child’s health.

Not that that stops him from injuring MC, but now he’s very careful with what he does to avoid any harm coming to his child. After all, they can’t get comfortable here.

When the child is finally born, it’s immediately taken from MC.

“I can’t have you passing on your weakness to my daughter, can I?”

He names her Lilith. It was always going to be Lilith.

Lucifer is a loving father, and abusive partner. MC only gets to see Lilith as a prize for a job well done. They become the most well-behaved human in the realm for a chance to see their child. It is such a rare occurrence, their daughter rarely remembers them.

He teaches Lilith to be a true demon, despite their half human nature. Raises them into the Devildom and is a careful protector to ensure that no corrupting influences touch her but his own.

Eventually, Lilith is ready.

MC is so excited to see their daughter, as soon as she enters the room, she’s swept into a big hug. 

MC gasps, and gurgles as they choke on their own blood, Lilith giggling in their arms. 

“Did I do a good job, Daddy?”

“You did perfectly, Princess.”

Mammon

This was definitely an accident

Not only was it an accident, but he may or may not have freaked out a little bit.

“Do you KNOW how expensive children are?”

But then he realizes that everything has a value.

So he sucks it up, and helps MC get through the pregnancy unscathed... Although he may or may not have chained them to the wall so they didn’t get into trouble while he was handling business.

When the boy is born, Mammon doesn’t bother to name him. He leaves MC to take care of the child. They name him Najjad, and dedicate all of their time to raising him to be happy, and healthy, and as human as possible.

He is a handsome child, born with a head of pale white hair, and MC’s eyes. Skin smooth and unblemished, with an easy, happy smile. They love him. They would do anything for Mammon in order to continue being allowed to raise their son.

But the fantasy is short lived.

Mammon quickly grows tired of MC’s time being split between him and the boy, growing greedy once again for their full attention. 

It isn’t long before he has lined up a buyer. It is only days after that that, without warning, Najjad is taken from his parent’s arms, and delivered to a shady demon willing to pay a pretty penny for the offspring of one of the Avatars.

“Finally! About time I got you to myself again, eh?”

Leviathan

This was long since planned. It was only a matter of time before one of his brothers had a child, and Levi wanted one first. Maybe it was the envy in him. Okay, okay. Probably it was the envy in him.

MC is already locked in his room, so it’s easy to hide the pregnancy, just in case something happens. After all, the last thing he wants is for his brothers to know it was a race, and then for him to lose.

Or worse, for one of his brothers to hurt MC while they were still pregnant.

Levi forces MC to do a lot of floating during the pregnancy, and to have a water birth.

However, he is less careful than most of the others. Constantly forgetting to be gentle, always pushing and grabbing MC a little too hard.

Still, the baby boy is born healthy. He doesn’t look quite human, even at birth. Long ragged gills cut sharp lines along his throat, and his eyes are slit. A long black tail extends from his spine, with a fin on the end. The rest of him looks human enough.

Leviathan eventually settles on the name Mizuko. MC is not given the chance to disagree.

MC is still not allowed to leave the room, but is given ample time with their son, helping to raise him, as long as they follow Levi’s strict instructions. He often takes Mizuko away for significant periods of time, disappearing along with him. MC can only imagine they are in the Devildom’s waterways, their son learning skills they’d rather him not know.

Oh, but how good to be alive, and a parent. Even if they were chained to this room, to the torture of being Levi’s plaything. Mizuko makes the whole thing so much more bearable. In fact, they consider trying to get Levi to have another, if only so that they may have a chance to always have one at home.

“I did it, MC! I won! I wonder what Lucifer will have to say about that.”

Satan

A pregnancy with Satan was planned, and actually suggested by MC.

They wanted to show their devotion to him, still so unaware of how he had manipulated every aspect of their life.

He seems so excited when MC tells them that it’s happened, they’re pregnant.

He treats them so sweetly throughout their pregnancy, but continues drugging, manipulating, and casting spells on them without their knowledge and without regard to their child.

It is only luck that none of them hurt their baby.

MC gives birth to a beautiful daughter, who will grow to have soft blonde ringlets and beautiful blue eyes, just like her father. She glows softly. 

Satan and MC agreed to the name Ismene for a girl early in the pregnancy, and once she arrived, it seemed just perfect. 

She grows to be smart as a whip, but cruel. Satan is so proud. MC begins to realize they don’t know everything about their husband after all.

They sit in the garden, Ismene practicing a spell to set a flower ablaze. MC tries to frown, to scold her, but their face does not budge.

“How lovely,” they hear themselves say, as if far away. “Our little girl is growing so quickly.”

Satan kissed their forehead and knelt in front of their daughter.

“Remember, you have to want it to die, with all of the rage in your heart,” he instructs her.

She smiles, looking at MC as the flower begins to burn.

Asmodeus

A child with Asmodeus is unplanned, but not unexpected.

With all of the unprotected sex he has with MC, and how frequently? It was only a shock it took so long.

Besides, MC no longer had the brain capacity to agree or plan anything. All they wanted was more of their demon master, filling them up, using them, making them worth something.

What could possibly fill them more than a child?

Asmo thinks it’s adorable, to watch MC’s stomach grow as they lay there, mindless and drooling. Desperate for anything Lust could offer.

It does not affect his daily routine in the slightest. He continues to use and abuse MC as he sees fit whenever he desires, and still disappears for weeks at a time, leaving MC’s health up to whatever brother happens to remember to feed them.

They give birth alone, confused as to why they are in pain and what is happening.

When Asmo returns, he leaves MC in their pain and filth, taking the baby girl away to clean her up and dress in lovely silks.

He names her Bellerose Fayre, and is the only one of the brothers to give his child a middle name.

She is perfect, and would pass for human if it wasn’t for her long, winding tail that reaches and grasps with it’s velvety texture, pulling in anything it can touch.

What happens next is... incredibly disturbing, to say the least. If you are particularly sensitive, I would recommend skipping to Beelzebub.

Asmo is inseparable from his daughter. Always keeping her dressed in beautiful clothing and teaching her everything he knows. Bellerose is a very quick study. It isn’t long at all before she has fully tapped into her father’s power and begins to work at his side, seducing souls to Hell. Only a child. 

How MC would have died to stop it if they could have. But they remained in that room, no mind left to care.

“Good job, Rosie! Another worthless wretch condemned to the pits. You’re a natural!”

Beelzebub

Unplanned. Unplanned. So unplanned.

Anon, you are unfortunately quite correct.

Beelzebub can smell it on MC before they even know. He had been holding back on feasting, saving them for a special occasion. 

But now that they were pregnant? Their blood, their body, all of it was extra nutritious as it prepared to build his child.

He waits, for a while. Staying far away so as not to be tempted, despite MC’s desperate attempts to get him involved.

The day comes for the gender reveal.

A boy.

Since Beel refuses to be involved, MC picks out the name. Akuji. 

It’s an apt name. 

MC returns that day to attempt to tell Beel the news, only to be met by the lumbering form of the starved man that strikes fear into their heart. They eat MC whole, and their child with them.

But that isn’t the end. Awake. Akuji screams from inside MC, inside Beel. Tiny claws begin to scratch and dig.

Eventually, his son rips through his stomach and into the world, severely underdeveloped. Time would take care of that. The boy had curled hands with bloody claws, blindingly violet eyes, and the concave stomach of his father. He would eventually grow fly wings and a head of MC’s hair, but he would never gain a full human form.

Beel tried several times over the years to eat his son, to no avail. Every time, he would just have to sew up his stomach and continue on his endless stalk for sustenence.

Belphegor

A child with Belphie is so unplanned that he doesn’t even know about it until a thousand years after they are born.

He had trapped MC in his lair for his nap, but his grip had loosened in his dreaming, and while they remained locked in the room, at least they could roam. Food was stockpiled to hide from his twin brother, which MC subsisted on.

They had become pregnant after a slow, elongated night of fucking with Belphie as he gained their favor to get them where they were now. And they had no way to tell him without ensuring their own death in the process.

So MC coached themselves through the pregnancy, always careful not to wake Belphegor.

It was a close call during the birth, as he huffed and stirred, but MC bit down on their own arm to shut themselves up.

When their son was born, he looked perfectly human. Blinking slowly up at their parent. MC fed him only once, and whispered his name to him before he drifted to sleep. 

Eventually, the food ran out. Their son did not wake, no matter how they tried. MC sobbed quietly at their loss, as surely he was dead. Starved and exhausted, they laid down to die.

Hundreds of years passed. In his sleep, the child grew, gaining more demonic features. Growing longer, sharper. Lithe wings extending from his back and sharp teeth appearing past his lips.

Their dreams began to intertwine, the boy learning so much from the Avatar of Sloth’s thoughts.

Finally, Belphie awoke, immediately spotting his son in the corner, strangely familiar, and the young one stirred at the movement.

“Who are you?”

“Cimon.”

“Hmm. Good morning.”

[sleepymccoy]

This isn’t exactly what you asked for. By chance, last night my housemate asked me what my favourite human discovery through history was, so I used that brainstorming session as a launching pad for this fic cos otherwise i had like no ideas. So it’s more of a debate than you asked for, but I think it’s a fun read. And the ending is unbelievably sweet. I don’t think I’ve every written something that sweet without referencing trauma in some way, but this is just sweet sweet fluffiness. @megers67​ hope you enjoy it mate

-

Crowley stared out at the lake, mulling over Aziraphale's question. The angel had gotten bored of waiting for a response and had pottered off to get a closer look at a baby swan. Crowley laughed as the mother swan squawked, startling Aziraphale. 

A few seconds later found Crowley speed walking alongside a harried Aziraphale as they stalked away from the angrily squawking mother, Aziraphale pulling Crowley along behind him by his hand.  

"Well," Aziraphale said haughtily, "I never."

Crowley laughed again, keeping pace with Aziraphale more so their hands wouldn't become detached than out of any concern over a pursuant swan. 

They crossed a bridge, Aziraphale's footfalls heavy and swift, Crowley's just swift, and heard one last distant squawk as the swan fare welled them.

Crowley didn't laugh, Aziraphale was still holding his hand and he didn't want to push his luck and be dropped.

Instead, he answered the asked question.

"The typewriter was pretty good."

Aziraphale glanced at him, the slight gleam of madness leaving his eyes. "You surprise me," he said. 

Their pace slowed, Aziraphale's grip on Crowley's hand slackened, still holding him but less of a vice. 

"But why not go a step back to the printing press?" Aziraphale asked.

"Oh yeah, that's a point," Crowley admitted. Was the typewriter really an invention if you had printing presses? And what about writing before that, does the printing press count if you already have ink? "Why not go another step back to all those enslaved monks?" 

"Why must they be enslaved monks?"

"You know," Crowley waved his other hand, not really proving that Aziraphale knew. "Monks were the only literate folk for ages. All those illuminated manuscripts."

Aziraphale squeezed his hand for a memento and Crowley felt very fond. "But, enslaved?"

"I guess they weren't enslaved. Indentured?"

"You just dislike organised religion."

"Guilty." Crowley squeezed Aziraphale's hand back, eliciting a quiet chuckle. "But typewriters, you know. In terms of ticking boxes, they've got sound. Good sound, they sound good."

"Sound?"

Crowley nodded. "Sound," he said certainly.

"Is that important in an invention?"

Crowley could feel Aziraphale's gaze on him and turned to meet his eyes. Aziraphale's thumb ran gently across Crowley's first knuckle.

"Well," Crowley said. "What about you, then?"

Aziraphale hummed and went back to looking at the path. Crowley let him lead and kept staring at his face, enjoying the wrinkle that appeared on his forehead as he thought. 

Crowley tripped on a rock and as he stumbled (kept standing by Aziraphale's suddenly appropriate firm grip on his hand) and wrenched his attention back to the path. He realised just how sickeningly in love he must've looked, gazing at Aziraphale like a desperate dog. He glanced around self-consciously and noticed an ice-cream stand. He quickly forgot his worries.

"Ice-cream?" Crowley offered.

Aziraphale turned to him, so bemused it bordered on anger. "You think ice-cream is the best invention? What kind of lack-luster suggestion-"

"Shut up, no," Crowley groaned. He threw his body around in exasperation, holding on tightly to Aziraphale's hand, still talking. "There's a blessed ice-cream stand, d'you want one?"

"Oh, certainly," Aziraphale said without a touch of humility from his misunderstanding. 

Crowley realised too late that he'd have to let go of Aziraphale's hand to complete his task. He steeled himself for a moment, then did so. 

He returned quickly with an icy-pole for Aziraphale and a cone for himself. 

"Democracy?" Aziraphale asked as he accepted his icy-pole.

"Fuck off," Crowley groaned, "pick something proper."

Aziraphale began to walk. Crowley followed, regretting the ice-cream as he couldn't hold Aziraphale's hand any longer. 

Then, wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, Aziraphale swapped which hand was holding his icy-pole and reached out to Crowley. 

Crowley took his hand and grinned, remembering about seven second too late that he was meant to look cool. But Aziraphale's returning smile was so nice he couldn't force nonchalance into his features. 

"Fabric was a pretty good one," Aziraphale said as they walked, fingers quickly entwining. 

"Oh yeah? Why?"

"Well, it got them warm. Far more versatile than those hides they wore early on." He gesticulated with his icy-pole, waving it in circles as he discussed hides. 

"And look at where it's gone," Aziraphale said cheerfully, "my pants are marvelous."

"They are," Crowley agreed  "But fabric's hardly a make or break kind of thing. It's nice, yeah, but it doesn't do anything a big ol' leaf wouldn't."

"What about in summer," Aziraphale argued. "How else would you avoid sunburn than a light linen shawl?"

A good point. But Crowley wasn't ready to give up the goat just yet.

Aziraphale waited patiently, licking his icy-pole in a manner that delayed Crowley's memory.

"Clay!" Crowley finally said, a lot more triumphantly than their peaceful stroll through the park should've allowed.

"Oh, I forgot about clay," Aziraphale hummed.

Crowley preened.

"Does clay count as an invention?" Aziraphale asked.

"Nah," Crowley said. "'s'in the dirt already."

Aziraphale made a wordless agreement. His thumb began to run across Crowley's knuckles again.

They walked quietly. The pressure of Aziraphale thumb picked up, feeling the bones of Crowley's hand confidently. Crowley walked and enjoyed it. 

They finished their ice-creams. Crowley took Aziraphale's stick from him and threw it out.

"Oh, I might have it," Aziraphale said as they approached the edge of the park, meandering back towards the Bentley. 

"Go on," Crowley invited.

Aziraphale paused, then, with all the confidence in the world, said, "Glass."

Crowley cocked his head to the side. "Wine glasses," he said slowly. 

"Yes."

"Sunglasses."

*Lovely," Aziraphale told the birds.

Crowley thought. Then, "Windows."

Aziraphale's hand in his jiggled as the angel nodded. "Those are good," Aziraphale agreed.

"Computers-" Crowley interrupted himself and palmed his mobile out of his back pocket to illustrate his point. "Even phones have glass now."

Aziraphale dutifully looked at the displayed phone. "So they do," he said.

"I mean, it is a bit clay though," Crowley said. "I mean, it is made naturally."

Aziraphale frowned. "Not often," he said widely.

"'s'just hot sand, innit?"

"Very hot," Aziraphale said. "It can't be easy."

"I s'pose," Crowley agreed reluctantly.

"And glass blowing is definitely creation," Aziraphale continued, sensing Crowley's reticence. "That's discovery. That's man made, that is."

"I'll give you that."

"Bottles don't form naturally."

"Love a good bottle," Crowley said. "Could've said the same for clay, you could've."

"But I didn't," Aziraphale grinned, "I saved it for this."

They reached the Bentley and Crowley slowed, coming to a stop before they had to let go of their hands to climb into the car. 

"And that kind of forward thinking should be rewarded," Crowley said. 

"Were we playing for a prize?" Aziraphale asked with a delighted laugh in his voice.

Crowley spun to lean against the door of the Bentley, facing Aziraphale. He quickly took Aziraphale's hand in both of his. "Sure," he said.

"Well," Aziraphale said. He stepped closer to Crowley, crowding him against the car. "You listed all those good glass things, perhaps you've earnt the reward."

"Nah," Crowley said broadly. "Your idea." He tugged on Aziraphale's hand to punctuate his argument. "Your reward. Go on, what d'you want?"

Aziraphale's smile softened. His eyes fluttered down to Crowley lips and back to his eyes. "I would like a kiss," he whispered.

Crowley leaned in and kissed him.

It was brief and tasted faintly of artificially sweet red flavouring. Crowley leaned away with a smile.

"And another kiss," Aziraphale said without opening his eyes, for he had closed them when Crowley had been too close to notice. "Please," he added.

Crowley raised one hand to cup around Aziraphale's jaw and kissed him for longer. 

He leaned away again, just as Aziraphale began to press into it with sincerity. Aziraphale gasped quietly as Crowley settled back into place against the car door. 

His insides writhed in joy and want, but externally he kept his smile warm and simple. He watched Aziraphale and waited for the actual prize to be asked for.

"And-" Aziraphale said, eyes just barely beginning to flutter open.

Crowley chuckled and interrupted. "You can't just keep asking for kisses, that's not a real reward."

Aziraphale met his gaze and smiled. His blush, born of being kissed, deepened. "Whatever not?" he asked, so sweetly.

Crowley grinned. "Because I give you those anyway."

Aziraphale shuffled in half a step, his belly pressing against Crowley in an intimacy Crowley relished. "What do you think I would possibly ask for that you don't give me regardless?" Aziraphale asked. "Besides, I wasn't going to ask for another kiss."

"No?"

"No," Aziraphale said with certainty while watching Crowley's lips. "I want-" 

Crowley licked his lips and enjoyed how Aziraphale's eyes followed it. Aziraphale did not finish his sentence.

"Um," Aziraphale squeaked, "what's the word for a really long kiss?"

Crowley laughed and slid his hand from Aziraphale's jaw to around the back of his neck and pulled him in close, kissing him full and open on the mouth. 

Aziraphale dropped Crowley's other hand and balled his fists into Crowley's jacket. He pressed forward and Crowley found himself joyfully pinned between the hard, cold car door and something the opposite in every way.

He fought every instinct to raise his legs and wrap around Aziraphale's waist, they were still in public after all. 

Aziraphale broke away with a grin and cried out, "And an almond croissant!" 

Crowley laughed, delighted, and found himself being kissed as he laughed. 

He wrestled Aziraphale away, although no effort was really kept up, and said something about scandalised middle aged women and a promise to pick up croissants later tonight if they went home right now. 

Aziraphale got the gist of what Crowley was quietly sure had been almost incomprehensible vowel sounds, and practically skipped across the road to get in the car.