#and for some fucking reason their response is always yeah your body looks so good i could never

[skzdust]

This Damn Rain

THIS IS SMUT. MINORS DNI.

Summary: You and Felix are in bed on a rainy night and neither of you can manage to get to sleep... Felix has an idea how you can stay occupied.

Pairing: Felix x afab reader

Includes: fingering, "good girl", slightly dominant Felix, begging, penetrative sex, reader described with a vagina and breasts

Word Count: 1.1k

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!! Thank you!!!

----

“The thunder’s so loud tonight.” You mumbled, curling into Felix as you tried to sleep. The rain usually soothed both of you in the evenings, but it was loud tonight. Grating, for some reason.

“Yeah, it is.” He said, and you could head the thoughts in his voice.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked, slightly un-curling and looking up at him.

“I have an idea. It’s a game we can play.”

“What kind of game?” You sat up a bit.

“It’s called… ‘Make y/n moan loud enough that they can’t hear the rain anymore.’”

A thrill ran through you. “That sounds like a great game.”

“Yeah?” Felix gently ran a hand into your hair, and you inhaled sharply as his fingers twisted into it and yanked your head back. “Let’s see how far I have to go, hm?”

“I can be very—ngh!” Your eyes shut and your lips parted as Felix’s mouth found your pulse, gently nipping and sucking the skin. His hands began to roam the rest of your skin, finding their way under your shirt. His thumbs brushed your nipples, and you inhaled sharply.

“Feel good?” Felix’s voice was low and dripping with need, his breath hot and heavy on your neck. He knew what the answer would be.

“Yeah, Felix, s’ good.”

He moved to straddle you. Your eyes darted down between his legs, but the thunderstorm made the room dark enough that it was hard to see.

He pulled back the front of his hair in a swift motion, tying it into a half-bun and pausing for a moment to make sure there were no bumps before he leaned down, practically on all fours over you. “You want me to touch you, love?” His leg pushed between your thighs.

You sucked in a breath through your teeth. “Fuck.”

He laughed, a low noise. The noise of a predator, about to dive onto their prey. “You want me to fuck you?”

“I—well—” You stammered.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Spit it out, love.”

“Yes.” You whispered back.

“What was that?” He leaned back. “Can’t hear you.”

You knew what he wanted. “Yes, Felix.”

“Mm. Good girl.” His thigh pushed in harder. You almost involuntarily whimpered.

He laughed again. “You’ve gotta be a bit louder than that to drown out that rain.”

“I believe in your abilities.”

“Oh, so it’s on me?”

You nodded. “I believe that’s what you said.”

“I don’t think that’s what I said.” Felix smiled, letting his dominance slip for a moment, which you found quite endearing. “I think it’s your responsibility to be loud.”

“It’s your responsibility to give me something to be loud about.”

Felix’s smile drained off his face in a second as he tilted your chin up towards him. “Are you trying to give me an order?”

Another thrill ran through you. “No.”

“That’s what I thought.” His hand tangled in your hair again, and he gave you a long, searing kiss, as if branding your mouth as his. You breathed him in, breathed him out. He was everything, his hands everywhere, his mouth everywhere, his voice everywhere, murmuring worship and degradation equally.

“You’re so beautiful for me, love, you always look so beautiful when you want me.” Kiss. “You’re so needy, so desperate, you want me so bad and I’m gonna make you wait as long as I want, and you’re gonna wait, you’re gonna wait for me.” Kiss. “God, I’m gonna fuck you so hard, your body’s gonna remember the shape of my cock forever, isn’t it, love?” Another kiss. Thumbs brushing where your thighs met your core. “I want an answer.”

“I want it so bad.” You whimpered.

“That isn’t an answer.” His fingers moved even further, dipping between your folds, and just as quickly teasing your thighs again.

“It is, it’s gonna remember you forever, no cock is gonna ever match yours.” You breathed. “Please, Felix.”

He grinned. “I’ll give you my cock, love, but you need to be loud.”

You nodded quickly. “That will not be an issue.”

“I know.” He took off your sleep shorts and underwear, humming. “You made a mess, love. Someone’s turned on.”

“Yeah, I am.” You whispered.

“What did I say about being loud?” He didn’t look at your face, instead spreading you open and sliding a finger inside you.

You didn’t suppress your moan. “God, it’s so good.”

“It’s one finger, baby. Gonna need more than that to be ready for me.”

“Please, more.” You whined, moving a pillow down to prop your hips up to provide easier access.

“Alright, alright.” He jumped straight to three fingers, pulling another moan from you as he moved inside you.

“Fuck… fuck.” Your voice was thick, your head thrown back, but you looked up at Felix. He was smirking from between your legs, and his fingers pushed up into you as your eyes met. You moaned again, eyes fluttering shut.

“Ready for me?” He asked after a few minutes.

“So ready.”

Felix slipped off his boxers and threw them across the room. He stroked himself a few times, his head falling back.

Your tongue darted between your lips, wetting them as you looked at him. His almost-hard length, the way he was slightly biting his lip, the hair falling in front of his eyes that he shook off his face.

You could not have been any more turned on.

He lifted your hips with one hand and lined himself up with your entrance. “Ready, love?”

“Yes.”

With one swift motion of his hips, he pushed inside you, and you exhaled in pleasure. “Fuck, Felix, fuck me, please.”

“Your wish is my command.” He leaned on his forearms over you, mouth slightly open as he began to thrust in and out. One of his hands found a bit of your hair, gently petting and playing with it.

“Jesus Christ, that feels so good, you feel so good—”

“Yeah?” He panted. “You like it when I fill you up? Fuck you just the way I want?”

“Yes.” Your voice broke, and you moaned. “Yes, Felix, I love it.”

“Good. Gotta— gotta treat my baby well. Gotta fuck my baby well.”

You clenched around him, and he groaned. “You fuck me so well… please, please, don’t stop!”

“I have no plans to stop, love.” His hips snapped into you, and you moaned. “You feel so fucking good, you have no idea.”

“Gonna fuck me all night?”

“All night.” He paused for a second to press a long kiss to your lips. “All fucking night, or at least until this damn rain stops.”

#I am taking requests atm!!! Feel free to send me an ask or smth! #skz #stray kids #stray kids smut #smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee felix x reader #skz felix #stray kids felix #skz felix x reader

[mynameisbillandimaheadcase]

Cw

#the next person that complements me when i mention that im very skinny is getting smacked #that's why i hate diet culture #your brain is so fucking rotten that I'm asking for help and you are complementing me #and it's never “I'm so skinny haha'' #i always say that I'm underweight and keep loosing weight #and for some fucking reason their response is always yeah your body looks so good i could never #i shouldn't either #but something isn't working right and hasn't since i was an infant #i sometimes just don't feel hungry and i just don't eat #and especially in therapy i get called lucky #so i never continue talking about how i managed to connect hunger with something positive #so now when i feel hungry i feel good about myself and when i don't i just don't eat bc i really struggle #it's not normal sustaining yourself with one or two small meals #but i can't help and feel good about my body #i shouldn't #my body is weak #i want to build muscle but i can't bc my body needs that energy

[capslocked]

PART & PARCEL

male reader x sana && tzuyu

18k words

“Is it too late?” Sana asks, and here’s how it always starts with her.

Nevermind that it’s not a question in search of an answer. A normal person could, should, text you. Hey, what’s up? or something equally inconspicuous before turning up the dial, are you busy? can I, like, come over? 

Instead, she’s at your doorstep again, twirling a bundle of honey-blonde between her fingertips as if she doesn't know what all that does to people. Some people say, incorrectly, that these are the hours of the night shared with ghosts. And to that you say: No, these hours belong to Sana, clearly, and apparently nobody fucking else. 

Now in a way, you do get it. It’d be easier to turn back over in your bed and ignore the elegant simplicity of a text message, or one step beyond that, do the unthinkable and finally tell her no, but when she’s standing there - there with that face, like a thousand different excuses or a million little reasons why she needs something from you, right now - and all she has to do is push her lips together, eyebrows going high - 

It is a bit like magic, after all, this feeling when she comes around. 

Everything that happened before - her visits, the first one and then the next - no matter how impossible, gets washed away, and suddenly all you have is her. Her voice, her hair, and a sneaking suspicion that the time apart really isn’t such a bad thing, because you don't always have a guess as to what comes next.

Of course, you were always going to let her in.

“I saw the lights were on,” she adds, starting to shrug off her coat like she knows you will.

“I mean, I’m here,” you say, non-committal.

“Yeah. I can see that.”

The door's half open and the only substantial hesitation you have is when you peer over her shoulder. There’s another girl, propping herself up against the doorframe, with a pretty head of glossy, sable hair falling gracefully down her shoulders, and she looks at least a few years younger than Sana. You smile cautiously at her before giving Sana another, much longer glance. In response, you receive a wink that's as subtle as a brick through a glass window (which only raises more questions). You ask the one that seems most important.

What else would Sana, of all people, possibly want to bring you if not some plaything or another. You've seen it all: girls who liked her money, girls who liked her body, girls who just flat-out liked girls, whatever. The dynamic always seemed to be, as long as everyone is having a good time, nothing to get hung up about - because at the end of the night, everyone comes around to Sana again.

And she comes around to you. 

Why question it.

“This is a little… irregular,” you say with a nod of your chin, as you step back from the door. "Who's the plus one?"

Sana motions the girl in with a sweep of her hand and throws you another disarmingly flirtatious smile - the same one that'd first left you utterly hooked by this strange person, who had, when you first met, walked into your life for five minutes, then fucked your lights out the way she wanted. She goes further with this, of course, teasing a warm smile and slanting an eyebrow.

"I figured I'd bring you a gift," she coos, in this sultry, dusky sing-song of a voice that really needs no followup whatsoever, other than maybe take my clothes off right now, as she makes a show of how she's pushing her shoulders back, like there's an audience to be impressed with the curve of her bust. "Since we were celebrating."

"Uh-huh. What's the occasion?"

"Whatever the hell you'd like," Sana chirps.

With that, she takes you by the collar. And even though the girl she brought is in the middle of, like, peering around curiously in your foyer, Sana leans up on the balls of her feet and kisses you hard. It's a real kiss - no preamble - which is sort of funny, given you would have been more than okay with some. So, naturally, you're caught entirely off-guard. It takes a full ten, fifteen seconds of feeling her hot little mouth pressed insistently up against yours, your mind gone blank with the suddenness of the moment. Your body taking it for granted.

Meanwhile, the other girl blinks - long, dark lashes batting the curve of her cheekbones slowly until Sana has moved to stand in front of her with the full, earnest intention to cup her jaw, tilt her head down a smidge, and kiss her too (very thoroughly, also, in her own way).

Sana lets the girl go with a sharp draw of air and a peck. Then she looks at you, just this side of playful. The way her teeth flash over her bottom lip suggests how she's enjoying, to her bones, this state of affairs: a dalliance with control, with desire, where she can flaunt it.

She tells you to relax, unwind, which you suppose is code for taking another of Sana's friends and bending her over every horizontal surface in your flat and fucking someone the way you've wanted for the last however-long it's been since Sana dropped back into your life. You've done as much. Some rotating cast of characters: Mina, Chaeyoung, Nayeon, the raven haired girl with the perfect tits; some names and faces starting to run together the more Sana pops up at your place with a girl under one arm, usually looking half bored and half shy - or at least putting up some pretense that might justify Sana telling them to strip down while she's already eyeing you with this look like she's wondering which article of clothing you'll be ripping off her first.

"Does she have a name?" you ask, with a nod vaguely in her direction. Of course it's a loaded question. What's her name doesn't matter. You don't know most of their names.

But when you do a double-take, remembering to steal a good look, you're not sure you've ever seen anyone pull off that perfect little white dress quite the way she does - the kind that goes right up the back, tucked under the neck, sleeves coming to a neat point across her fingers. Sana may or may not have a thing for pretty girls in cute dresses, but this is, without question, the most obvious bribe you've ever witnessed in your life.

Sana's still smirking - so much for being considerate, you think for a second, until you’ve got a dainty hand stretched into yours like you’re brushing up with royalty. And well, maybe you’re getting a better look now that she isn’t bathed in the calm, assured wickedness that two A.M. might only ever know - the dark curling like wind around her fingers and down the lines of her spine, cajoling.

She is gorgeous.

And she says - 

“Chou Tzuyu,” in this charming little voice that’s even more mesmerizing than you anticipated, this taut thread winding itself up between the two of you. She says her name with a gentle sigh, a light in her eyes that you know, intimately, not to trust, but you get the sense that she'd rather you make an exception for her - or at least for the night. “Everyone calls me Tzuyu.”

You feel a squeeze at your fingers, an anxious reminder from Sana's thumb, as if she feels the reverie in which you've lapsed. It draws you back, just slightly so.

"Tzuyu," you say, taking mental note of the faint smile that shadows in at the corner of her mouth when you do. "How much do you know?"

She twists in Sana's direction, and oh, look how eager and innocent and coquettish Tzuyu's making herself in front of her, smiling. What do I say, the gesture is asking. You can see her effort to hold back a giggle or two as she bites her lip, trying, as all the pretty girls who come through these doors often try, to come up with something cute and modest and small that'll allow you and Sana to picture exactly the right thing. You can tell when a person is not used to having an audience.

"I know Sana..." Tzuyu's voice trails as she gives Sana a furtive glance. "She talks about you a lot. And I figured, you know."

"What? That we were good friends?"

"Sure," Tzuyu laughs to herself lightly again. "Whatever makes it easier."

Sana has her fingers threaded beneath Tzuyu’s chin, studying her like she’s an artifact that belongs behind glass. Expensive. One of a kind. And oh-so-excessively fragile.

The way Sana touches her, she may be trying to prove the point, guiding her body's angles and edges towards whatever form she sees fit, with just fingertips and the slightest tug, showing you exactly how malleable the girl can be. The look on Tzuyu's face is hardly discomfited when her dress slides past the dips of her shoulders or the slope of her waist, when the fabric gets crumpled in Sana's hand like the most expensive balled-up tissues in the universe. You can't decide what animal comes to mind: perhaps a deer, some cute, unknowingly doomed elk.

"No underwear," you note, watching.

Sana draws herself a little closer to Tzuyu with an appreciative gaze, lips gently landing at her shoulders, neck.

"Why bother?" Tzuyu muses. "What were we going to use them for?"

A pull here, a tug there, and the dress puddles around Tzuyu's feet, silk shimmering like the inky dark of a starless sky. And just shy of a pedestal and perhaps a fucking moonbeam, she's the spitting image of perfection: porcelain skin stretching out over a masterwork of curves and bone and muscle. A sculpture, a study in the form that so frequently leaves people just absolutely dumbstruck and thirsty in their wake.

Sana trails her hand around the width of her hip - drawing your eye along the skin of her leg, up and around the perfectly curved thigh - stopping to splay her fingers just so at the base of her spine, as if in demonstration of ownership. Like this: mine.

"Don't get it confused," Sana tells you. "The whole naive innocence thing is a total fucking misdirection."

"Tzuyu," you say again, this time noticing the way it feels in your mouth, syllables sweet and sticking to its roof like honey - maybe something more of an excuse to move forward and touch her yourself, palm her face, brush your thumb over her bottom lip. A taste, something subtle but intense, spreads to the back of your throat, the moment her teeth graze gently over its pad. "Is that true?"

"Are you asking me what kind of girl I am?"

"I didn't put it exactly like that."

"Just answer, sweetheart," Sana says, brow quirked in a faux-display of nonchalance, fingers still pressed, spreading gently at her neck. She's enjoying this a little too much. Though, you're enjoying this too. It doesn't have to be an either-or kind of scenario.

"It's better if you say it," she adds after a second of consideration, and even though it's obvious by now she's only prodding and that this is a foregone conclusion, Tzuyu puts an emphatic twitch in her lips - red, wet, a vision in crimson - like the thought is deeply troubling and will likely require lots and lots of thorough explanation later.

"Fine, okay, in that case," Tzuyu starts with a weary sigh, and then with a blink-and-you've-missed-it flash of a smirk, there's no way anyone's buying any of this, "I’ll say: I'm whatever kind of girl you want me to be."

Sana was right, and she didn’t even need to go so far as to say it. It’s clear - you want her.

But it's half as easy to pinpoint where it all starts: there's the way Tzuyu melts, sinking just that much further when you guide your hands around the curve of her ribs, fingers following the flow of her soft edges, the slopes and valleys of her breasts, and she parts her lips even before yours touch the seam of her mouth, her breath warm, heavy, the kind of anticipation that sends jolts down her neck, her spine, the body electric - a real live wire.

Or, it's because of the way she likes it - like, really likes it. There's something exceptional in a girl who will wrap her legs around your waist and suck your tongue and whimper just by a feather's touch around her hips or between her thighs, where it's damp and hot and holy shit, this is unreal in a very tactile, visceral way. There's no mistaking the noise for anything but genuine pleasure when Tzuyu's trying, unsuccessfully, to bite down the whine sneaking up her throat and into your mouth - where you're kissing her, still - the kind that presses heavy at the bottom of your stomach.

Or, there's Sana yet, pulling her clothes off, and instead of leaving a trail in her wake, folds each piece neatly until she's bared down to this fine little number of lace and cream-colored silk that'd make your head spin if you weren't, y'know, pretty busy, mouth occupied by Tzuyu's pliant moans, both of your tongues colliding.

"God," Tzuyu groans out quietly as you pin her to the wall, and again after another string of kisses, sucking your lip. 

There are fleeting moments that slip through like sunlight that have you thinking: Right, this was a good idea, nothing other than a sweet girl like this all messed up and squirming with the shallow dig of your nails. But only close to perfect.

Sana will explain it.

"Mm. Not god." Sana is grinning when she leans up for the same kiss, but she takes her time with it: mouth slotted tight against Tzuyu's as her long fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of Tzuyu's neck, working her grip up slowly so that the strain gets more noticeable until the girl is a gasp on a choke of breath. The curve of her back is drawn out by that same hand and her ribs pressed, pert and rosy, into the cool air.

"Sir, and please," Sana then instructs, voice just harsh enough for Tzuyu to understand. 

You might imagine she's also drawing in with her nails, teeth, a full-body drag up her exposed front, like some kind of prize, marking and tasting and fucking every inch. There's a whimper, desperate sound of, yes, right, fuck, please, and sir slipping like a sigh off the edge of Tzuyu's tongue. 

"Or better yet," Sana adds, with another searing press into the junction of her collarbone, "say daddy, please," then follows through on the plea with another slow-pull.

You try not to roll your eyes. It's Sana's kink, not yours. It's a whole thing. And with Sana, like most things, you find it best when you simply play along.

More than that, you indulge her. You both do.

"Okay, daddy." Tzuyu's teeth catch the corner of her mouth in a self-amused bite. Twisting and twisting the swell of her lip further until it snaps forward. "I want you to tell me something," she says, which, for the way this typically goes, is a little more self-assured and pressing than the usual fare. Even Mina, who was perhaps less than enthusiastic about the - uh - title in question, came around eventually when she had Sana's fingers, your cock, all sunk so deep inside her she forgot what any fucking words were anyway.

So maybe Sana does know what she's doing with this one. Maybe you oughta thank her.

Tzuyu just lifts her chin, says, "this isn't what I expected when I showed up here."

"Obviously, it's not," Sana says.

"What I mean is, this is all good fun, of course," Tzuyu explains. A charming indignance that slips past, like the fingers down her belly. She swallows hard, muscles clenching as your palm runs slow over a hip, squeezing. "Though I guessed when we left Sana's, I would've been bouncing on his cock five minutes ago."

Sana's lithe little frame ends up closer - nearly naked in lace and wholly difficult to miss. She's a half head shorter than the girl in front of you, but with a tilt of her chin and a beckon of her hand, it's a powerful look about the lines of her face: eyes slightly hooded, mouth curved and devastating. It's as if, at every hour of the night, the simplest glance will have the fabric of someone's clothing coming undone, regardless.

Tzuyu is just slowly trading looks between the two of you. So curious. "So what then, do I have to do," her words curl like smoke up her throat, "to get fucked by both of you, hm? In, like, the next five or ten more minutes, preferably."

"He's not going to fuck your brains out simply because you ask." Which by the way, is the first real lie Sana tells tonight.

Tzuyu is unimpressed, or maybe she's a stoic. "Clearly," she deadpans.

Whatever the expression is that is fluttering those gorgeous lashes, eyebrows pulled down, adds a faint mark of distrust across her brow. The prettiest scoffs you've ever heard. "Isn't the point to get me spread out on your sheets so you can use me like a little fucktoy?"

A sigh from Sana: heavy, calculated. She does not reply in any obvious way to that, no flimsy assurances that it would be whatever the hell Tzuyu likes (though you think maybe Sana might want to take this whole fucking opportunity, all this thinly veiled begging for it, for the first taste of what will probably be the main thing that'll hold her over the edge of an orgasm or two). 

So, instinctually, Tzuyu pushes it, just enough - she tilts her head, and the motion is followed by a wide sashay of her hips as she gently presses a fingertip to your chest, encouraging a step back to better your balance, like the pull between you has a little more gravity.

"Don't go quiet on me." Another sultry note pulls from her mouth when she guides you another foot - or however many, until the foyer opens up into your living room. The chair, the sofa, a table, you watch her eyes wander like she's mapping the territory. And then finally she drops her hands from your shoulders, reaching instead for Sana, taking her waist in her palms.

Holding her. Kissing her.

There's a delicateness about both of them, clearly, and not only how Tzuyu angles their lips, as if she doesn't fully intend for the two to merge but instead taste the line, test the edges, or something; but Sana doesn't fight this. In fact, when Sana's being drawn gently, but confidently into a deeper, harder press, a very eager give, her eyes slip closed. There's a war, and Sana - though she'd be the last to admit it - is losing.

Tzuyu, at the end of a particularly sharp draw of air, simply turns to you, eyes peeking over the tousle of copper hair atop Sana’s head, and asks: "How does daddy want to play with his toys?"

It clicks in your head immediately: she's a natural, could be an actress, maybe a pro - you have no idea where Sana found her - even if that doesn't exactly match with the diction; daddy, and sir, and the baby-girl pout. There are the things she does to Sana, this slipstream of control passed back and forth and back and forth again - a fevered tugging, the give of one or the other. An entirely different dance. Beautiful, fluid, intense.

Eventually, it lands in your lap. Literally and metaphorically. Tzuyu looks up from where she's kneeling between your legs and with a little pinch of your hips, tells you with that intoxicately sweet, melodic voice of hers, that you seem like the sort who wants someone who just takes initiative.

And she's right.

"May I?" she asks, breathlessly, fingers at the zip.

"Of course,” Sana answers for you, settling into her side like you both belong to her. Like she’s about to enjoy this just as much as you are.

What does the room sound like, the darkness giving away? Everything. The hum of the appliances, the purr of the heat, something in the walls is settling into its final position for the night as the floorboards sigh. Breathing. Listening.

What you don't hear:

Chou Tzuyu moving - whether she shifts onto her knees, or adjusts how her slender fingers fall from the waist of your pants, doesn't matter - no crunch, no shuffle. She doesn't swipe away the hair from her eyes or drag the pad of a thumb over her swollen, bottom lip. All she does is pull, just a bit, and the zipper breaks the silence, comes apart down the way.

Sana clears her throat gently, hoping, possibly, that Tzuyu might be the kind of girl who just loses herself to the moment, caught in the headlights. The way every delicate, doe-eyed girl is supposed to do. Sana likes them a little helpless like that - makes her feel big.

It's too bad really, because Tzuyu doesn’t appear like she's awash with anything in particular. Or at the very least, she's done a fairly convincing imitation of not being the slightest bit off-put, completely disarmed or whatever Sana had been looking to see.

She does look up though. Long, pretty face still managing a bit of devastation from this angle. Those full lips slightly pouted and slick in red: such an inviting color against her pale skin.

"Sana," she coos, eyes wide and brilliant - innocent, yet taunting all at once - and she's deliberate in what she says next, flitting her tongue across her canines to punctuate every sound: "Isn’t daddy going to use me now?"

"Oh." Sana leans in, eyes flicking up at you, Tzuyu's hands, her body, and starts slowly, like she's exacting a punishment, "Tzuyu, baby," her own anticipation beaming off the surface of her thousand-kilowatt grin, "you're going to take that perfect cock," the words dripping off Sana's tongue, heavy, sweet, "you're going to take it, get your pretty little lips all over it sweetie, you're going to show him just how good you can use that filthy fucking hole of a mouth for him. You're going to take him until he cums in your throat, and then you're going to beg him for more. And if you can do that, well. Then we’ll fuck you exactly how you wanted."

Tzuyu blinks - doting and innocent like the angel everyone probably thinks she is.

But then what you've learned about the angels that Sana brings you: they're devils in disguise, well familiar with the sin and lust that resides in these places; sunk into the cushions of the couch, pressed against the cold pane glass of a window, wound tight in the springs of a mattress. You had long thought - and think, you do, particularly when doing the unthinkable - it's easier that way, to leave aside thoughts of right and wrong and ask: Just how far can an angel fall?

"Ah. Perfect," Tzuyu says, sounding like an answer, and her eyes widen as she peels past that band of elastic.

Your cock springs forward and bumps into the pad of her finger, which traces the length of it like it's hers to own, to pleasure.

"God," she hums with satisfaction, and even without looking up, or even before you say a damn word, she draws her tongue up along the underside in one swift, wet lick. "Sana you weren’t exaggerating: daddy's cock is fucking gorgeous."

There is that tiny whine, or more precisely a tiny, oh fuck when Tzuyu curls her hand around your shaft. Sana gives her a push. "Say it, Tzuyu," she all but growls at her.

"Daddy," she says, always pausing on the word. Testing it further. "Please."

"Please," Sana mimics in faux-sweetness, repeating it again once you start to nod.

Not that it changes much - the stare that Tzuyu fixes you is charmingly determined, like a challenge. Then, she inhales.

Deep.

That slide into her mouth is smoother than anything, hot and slippery and oh, right - you remember faintly with a shudder: those pretty teeth hidden away behind a perfectly lascivious mouth, so much that a couple sharp, expert brushes are enough to send lightning dancing along your spine. Sana moves her hands across your hips, to the buttons on your night shirt, working her way up until the fabric has fallen to the side and she can open your chest up to the air, let Tzuyu swallow the rest.

This, Tzuyu likes. "Ah," she gasps around you, or she tries to, your cock propped up on her soft little tongue.

She likes the way that feels. The way you fit in her hands, her mouth. And it shows. Her posture curls deliciously, under the satisfaction of her lips wrapping finally having something to wrap around tight, tight, tighter - under Sana's roaming touches, the skirting of her nails down Tzuyu's chest, reaching with slow deliberation across her stomach until there's a whisper of skin across sensitive flesh.

“She’s so fucking wet,” Sana tells you, smiling at Tzuyu from above and fitting a fingernail between her teeth. "Good fucking girl, aren't you Tzuyu?"

The moan that leaks out around the weight of your cock is pure. Pure lust, pure pleasure. Pure perfection. Her tongue flattens beneath you and finds you surging even deeper, a firmer slide of Tzuyu's wet lips that brings you right into the roof of her mouth - as she twists her face around you, a soft scrape against the inside of her cheek.

You sigh.

And Sana sighs back.

"Of course. Always such a hidden talent," she notes, as Tzuyu's perfect mouth moves and plucks and teases your nerves, twirling her tongue around your tip. Again as she swallows you down, slow, savoring.

“Tell me,” you say, because the heat of Tzuyu’s mouth is starting to remind you of a daydream, “how exactly do you know each other?”

"Work," Sana answers, flatly.

"Like-"

"Yup."

"She sings?"

"She does - rather, she will." Sana glances sidelong with a bit of a grin. "You have no idea what that tongue can do to people when it's got some good backing tracks, when it knows a goddamn fucking thing about rhythm. Speaking of," Sana looks down at where Tzuyu has her silky brown head of hair bobbing between your legs.

And then it's clear what she means, Tzuyu humming and rolling your shaft through the flat of her tongue. It's all slick, soaking heat and the tension building and building in your balls, aching, just absolutely desperate for more friction, to be taken and used and stuffed in her throat - or just more of this.

"Here," Sana's fingers are hooked in your pants, helping them off your legs, your ankles, pulling you further to the edge of the sofa. Let me, she's telling Tzuyu, this slight murmur of want she just can't wait on.

"Wait, I'm -" Tzuyu attempts, pulling her lips off the curve of your cock, to where pre-cum is weeping out of its tip, and she kisses it so very tenderly, going back for round two. Round three. She floats her fingers up over her eyebrows, into her fringe, all to tuck some dark, wispy hair gently behind her ear when she starts to hollow her cheeks and again suck your cock in earnest.

Until -

"Tzuyu," Sana reprimands her, "don't play, daddy's got his work cut out for him tonight. So be a good girl, and let me show you what he likes."

It takes a second, maybe three. It might take longer if Sana didn't have her fingernails digging into her thighs, sliding further to grab hold of Tzuyu by the hair and pull her lips off your shaft. There's a thin trail of spit coming off her mouth and stringing across you. Sana closes her fist in the back of Tzuyu’s hair and doesn't so much as blink while studying the look on her face: lips glistening, just absolutely needy, like she can't help the whimper in her throat.

"Hm?" Sana cocks her head to the side.

"But... sir."

"You are his toy," Sana explains, flashing her eyebrows because apparently it needs to be said, "not the other way around."

And it may be the first time you've seen it happen since Sana walked in with Tzuyu and declared her intentions: the fluster, the pink spread across Tzuyu's features like some scarlet-lettered stain. Defenses dropped like a draw-bridge. She's not quite every bit as cool and composed as she wants the two of you to think she is. (They never are.)

But the fact that Tzuyu's coy little smile returns into her lips - how she's wiping the spit off her mouth with the sharp edge of her hand and pointing your cock in Sana's direction with a delicate, arched brow, how she then moves on, untangling herself from Sana's grasp, eyes heavy, but on her - is a marvel in and of itself.

It’s an amusing surprise, a welcome one, for the simple reason that Tzuyu keeps showing both of you that she can have anything she wants exactly like this: wrapped around a slender fingertip, flushed and helpless, and without breaking a sweat. 

"Have you considered daddy wants both our mouths on his cock and maybe a few less words?" Tzuyu scoffs. And even though Sana does scoff right back in retort, that's exactly how it plays out.

(And you may, upon occasion, reflect: you're a real lucky bastard.)

Sana always puts on this act. One that you’ve learned to see right through. 

Like she isn't too eager to follow the momentum, that she hadn't just been just as impatient to touch you - to be on her knees with Tzuyu, all aside this beautiful girl who gives you a pretty smile when her tongue finds the base of your cock. Who likes being bossed around but can just as easily turn her face towards yours - in what seems almost like a taunt - as if saying: You know what else I like? to be challenged, and sometimes when the mood’s right, pushed and punished. 

But Sana doesn't let you see what kind of resolve she has until she's gone another minute, licking, lapping her tongue around your cock - this is her idea, after all. The little white dress in a heap, the adoration and worship that comes with fucking girls she knows are the prettiest things to see ruined.

Listen - even if Sana’s veneer is as blatantly obvious as it is shatterably thin, she’s no less dangerous. 

When she first pushes the very head of your cock inside her mouth, and just that - because why rush it, she's so fucking perfect with those pretty lips - the rest of your brain is shouting something to the tune of fuck me sideways because she knows you better than anyone, knows what really gets your blood burning. 

A few slow brushes, one kiss, this lick that goes bottom to top and over and around. It’s like she's testing the surface, dragging her lips across your aching cock as she settles on a rhythm, a tempo that starts to mirror the movements of Tzuyu's hand.

Tzuyu lets you see: this slow twist, this slide of skin up and down the length of your shaft, her soft fingers rubbing tight circles up and down the path of her palm until it meets Sana’s mouth. And like it’s the most simple thing in the world, she dips down, finds a place at the base of your cock, where Sana’s lips can’t quite reach, and drops a hot, messy kiss right across the spot.

Fuck.

She kisses you everywhere.

"Sana," you start to say, and she looks up through the strands of blonde fallen slightly in front of her face. Her lips sink further down the length of your cock - until she hears your breath catch in the bottom of your throat. Until she’s pulling you up and out, again, just barely past her teeth.

Fuck.

"Mm." She hums it right into your skin, and her eyes are hooded, dipping right down with another pull of spit, and then another, before her lips are at the tip once more, flicking across the slit with her tongue - wet and rough.

"Sana," you try again, biting into your lip as you reach a hand into the gold locks of hair framing her deceptive, pretty little face, and tug, a warning, a reminder. You need. It's too early for you to be repeating yourself, and Sana knows that.

A pop, the release of her mouth slipping off the top of your cock, and Tzuyu moves - wrapping her lips tight and silken around the sides, the rest. It all happens in an instant. You're being taken with the sudden, harsh suction of one mouth, the other, fluid and slipping back and forth again and again.

Sana's nodding along, impressed, as she watches Tzuyu take you - completely, nose to your hip - and has a glint of pure hunger shining through her eyes when you hiss, when she kisses along the lines of Tzuyu's stretched lips. There's another flick of a tongue, and you can feel Tzuyu moan something muffled and choked, a frantic pulse at the base of your spine - pressure gathering like a fucking flood.

"Just how you like it, hmm?" Sana says, her breath warm on your balls as she seals her own mouth right over the base of your shaft. And you swear there's something about this: the drag and suck of both their lips as your hips stutter forward, the feeling of them pressed together in a perfect line, heads tilted and mouths fucking dripping with saliva and sin - your hands, resting on the backs of their heads as they're returning you these greedy little moans that vibrate off the top of your cock and nearly kill you in the process.

“Tell me,” Sana adds, dragging a hot, hazy kiss over the sensitive skin up your shaft. "How's daddy feeling? Hmm? Feels nice and perfect, doesn't it. Feels like you could just let go and release, a hot, sticky load of cum, right down her fucking throat. I know she’ll swallow every drop."

"Fucking hell, Sana-"

Sana doesn't exactly answer to your begging, only hikes Tzuyu a fraction higher over your body to gain better control of the rhythm, and a better view: the hollowed out cheeks, her watery, half-shut eyes, tears welling in her lashes - because the prettiest girls always come apart in the most perfect ways.

You grip into all that silky brown hair, thumb running gently up and over the soft skin behind her ear as she finds an exacting little movement with her lips that will have your spine twitching uncontrollably as you fuck deeper down the perfect arch of her throat, Sana keeping rhythm, guiding you all the way in - a searing heat, and then a new rush of saliva dripping off Tzuyu's chin and back down into the tangle of tongues, fingers, throats, mouths.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The pair of them. The things they're doing.

"Or maybe," Sana muses, tilting her head on an angle that suggests she's weighing her options, and then, massaging a quick, firm twist into the very base of your cock she finally lets spill: "You could make a mess of that perfect face," Tzuyu's faint whimper hardly slips out unnoticed, "I'd hold her hair for you while you cum all over her - how about that baby, should we make a big mess of your pretty face?"

The whimper grows louder - Tzuyu moans long and low, right up against the tightening tension gathering between your hips, right as your balls pull, that familiar coil about to break - and, god, if there's some part of you committed to holding the moment, waiting and wanting to stay in the vision of these two perfect mouths pressed together, it's a fleeting and useless notion - but, as usual, Sana already knows.

The way they're blowing you in perfect tandem, their mouths locked together, kissing around your shaft as they continue to pleasure you, filthy and open - a little more, the thought percolates, a little longer, to let the pressure swell.

"Sir," Tzuyu says, swallowing her next breath, and that's the first you've heard her sound like that: whining, pleading.

She slaps your cock against her lips, her tongue - it's all so wet with spit and precum and slick that her chin is coated, her fingers. A demonstration of what you should have already known: Sana's girls aren't just straight down the line. They want the messy, roughness that comes with the sin; the split in the seam, the wail, the raw, uncut want.

You watch Tzuyu’s lips curl, this quiet smile pressed against your cock, and after a slow draw of air, they fall open again. Asking, "aren't you going to fuck your toy's slutty little mouth?"

The silence of the night swallows up the sounds of Sana's low chuckle and the responding squelch of her fingers tearing free, her hand trailing after. Here’s three bodies in the otherwise ordinary emptiness of your living room, on the edges of the leather sofa, so completely drenched in anticipation and hunger.

There’s a flash across Sana's rounded cheeks, hot, like she's just this small space shy of smirking, or giving into something, you don't know. Tzuyu, however, you've got a fairly clear view of - how her eyes glaze, pupils going wide and dark, staring up at you as she places the shape of your cock so acutely up the length of her perfect features: chin supporting its base, the cute, button-like tip of her nose teasing the soft underbelly of skin pulled taut - a fucked up preamble to whatever the hell it is going to feel like, once she's ready for more.

"Say please, sweetie," Sana says, fluttering her fingers over Tzuyu's neck. And then to you, as an aside: "If there isn't a better way to break in a toy."

When Tzuyu doesn't immediately reply, Sana leans over her, with a fingertip under her chin, guiding her hot, wet lips to the edge of your cock.

"Ask daddy to fuck his filthy little whore."

"Ah," Tzuyu lets out an awkward exhale. "Daddy?" she pauses to swallow, licking her lips, then, with just the slightest inflection, this tight line, right at the border, somehow managing to hit both notes of I'm going to make you beg for it and is it okay for me to be begging you for more: "Please, daddy. Fuck my face."

But then the way she fucking looks - petulant, needy, like if you don't shove your cock down her throat in seconds it could kill her - that's the realest thing you've seen from her since she shuffled through your front door wearing a dress that belongs in someone's heaving, pent up fantasy and left it in a careless pile in the middle of your foyer, tits bouncing on her way into the living room. And somehow, that's a lot to take in: to think this whole debacle has led up to her, this girl you're probably never gonna see again, pressing the pucker of her perfect, pretty lips to the underside of your cock, and -

"Open," Sana cuts in, "your fucking mouth."

Tzuyu gulps thickly and stretches her jaw, blinking expectantly as her pink, slender tongue sticks out the faintest, most insinuating inch.

You lift your hips with one good thrust, the plushness of her mouth becoming soft and velvet as she opens wider, and wider still, and you're balls deep, hilt hitting her lips as she opens her eyes, taking you down her throat, slick and slow.

"Good girl," Sana grins, watching Tzuyu swallow around you. 

You may be buried into her throat but the sound of Sana's encouragement has Tzuyu keening, this wrench in her brow like she wants to focus so fucking badly. Only made worse when Sana bundles a handful of Tzuyu's long, glossy hair into a fist and gets her voice into the shell of her ear. 

"I know you love it, Tzuyu, how he's fucking taking you, huh? That's it. Show daddy how good of a toy you can be."

And oh, the reaction - the very clear one, no less. Tzuyu grips onto the cushion of the couch, a full set of fingers curling around Sana's forearm, any part of you - the one closest and she's digging her sharp nails into your skin and whimpering for Sana to keep talking like her life depends on it.

"Let me see if you can be as good as you think you are," Sana murmurs, and you shift forward again, bucking your hips just barely but getting there, and then there's more, fuck - getting closer to a good steady pace. Slow, forceful. Hitting the very back of her throat, the bottom of her lips.

Tzuyu can only respond by taking you impossibly deep.

"Remember what you told me?" Sana's biting her lip, finding as much satisfaction out of the mere display.

"Mnnph," Tzuyu chokes out before slipping off your cock, only long enough to gasp for another breath, "I said, I said - all the things I would let him do to me." Her voice sounds so wrecked. Broken. Desperate. Filthy, the kind that needs to be fucked. "Please, please," she says again.

"Tzuyu." Sana's fist tightens in Tzuyu's hair, and down Tzuyu goes. "You sounded so sure, baby - when you said you'd making him fucking cum so easy, how you'd make him bust over and over with this mouth, so -"

You're getting too close. It's really not your fault, it's the two of them. Every wince on your face a result of Tzuyu's swollen, shiny lips wrapped tightly around your cock, cheeks flush and hollow with every move of her mouth. She keeps doing this little flick of her tongue as her lips slide around you - even while Sana lifts her jaw up, down, up down, fucking her mouth onto your aching cock with a sort of callous disregard for how it's fucking her up - how it's fucking you up.

"-the prettiest girls make the best fucking cumrags, you know. Really - makes your toes curl," Sana finishes, giving one particularly pointed tilt of her head at the sight of how bad your knees are shaking.

And then, out the corner of her mouth, teeth locked over her lip, because you're so caught up in how good it feels fucking your length through the vice of Tzuyu's mouth, sliding across her wet tongue - "she's not lying baby, is she? Fuck, I bet she feels so fucking good on you doesn't she" - her voice hoarse and desperate, a hint of something caught at the back of her throat like she can almost taste what it's like. What it must feel like.

Sana pushes, and even she can probably feel you pulsing at the way Tzuyu chokes when the tip meets the drain of her throat.

It gets... it ends up too much, too fast. Borderline abusive - and not just the speed, or the sheer roughness - Nayeon was here on her knees, like this, in the middle of the night not too long ago, and deepthroating you is far from the unusual or accomplished, at this point. But, fuck if that isn't something you build up to.

The slight curve of Tzuyu's arms, rising as they tremble with the effort, the little tears that slip down her cheeks, and those lovely sounds she makes. It's not at all intentional - and you're so stupidly certain Sana didn't think you'd be this riled so quickly, like there's not an ounce of willpower in the world that could save you at this point.

And while that's not too surprising on its own - Sana knows you well, this is what she agreed to - Tzuyu must have understood (it was part of the plan, in fact) what she was walking into, what she was signing up for. But fuck it: she was still pretty new, an amateur. And an amateur just wouldn't be capable of doing the things she does, and looking the way she looks, not to the same extent as this.

"Can you cum from nothing but the feeling of daddy's dick hitting your throat? I'll have him sit back and relax while we work," Sana tells her.

It'd make two of you.

"Would you like that?" she's asking you, tilting her head when you've gathered yourself long enough. "No touching, just take my orders while we pleasure you. How does that sound, daddy?"

"Sana, easy," you practically growl, biting down on the inside of your cheek because the twitch in Tzuyu's pulse has you coming far too undone, her chest hitching and lungs heaving and face wet with spit and tears and cum as it's spilling down her chin. You're seconds from telling Sana to dial it back when a low, guttural sound, sputtering, leaves Tzuyu's throat.

The grip in Tzuyu's hair goes loose enough that she pulls herself up, swallowing up as much air as she can. 

And fuck, look at the damage: that swollen mess of her red, glistening mouth; the dark runs of mascara and drying tracks that make a ruin of her face, her neck; a heart-stopping shine of white drool. She blinks the tears off her lashes in a moment.

Sana’s eyeing her over the same way a surgeon might approach a task with a scalpel and a careful hand, or perhaps a fisherman surveying the quality of a catch - before tossing it to the back of a truck to be hauled back home. Like the kind of sight she gets just a little too much satisfaction at. And it's the eyebrow she shoots up into her mess of toffee-blonde hair that asks, quietly, too much?

Fuck. Maybe.

But Tzuyu's eyes shift toward Sana's, and without even an ounce of hesitation - without anything more than a heavy exhale - she opens her mouth again so you can see her tongue run across her top teeth, incensed in her lust. More, fuck me, have me, use me she's saying, telling with you the slight indignance in her eyes that Sana finds perfectly irresistible.

Then, as if unbothered by how far your cock had been slotted in her throat, she swallows. Says, "is that all, sir?"

And the sound that follows it, that shuddering sigh - breaking, cracking, shattering into the calm quiet of your apartment - Tzuyu takes you like it's more than enough. She's swallowing it all back down again.

“Fuck, Tzuyu, you’re-” you try, only to have her moan loud, so loud, when she drags her tongue down your cock and swallows around the whole thing in a way that has you gasping. Your hands end up wound tightly in her hair, weaving through the smooth waves, knuckles straining when it really sinks in. Just how deep down her throat you go, so perfectly deep, the stretch of her lips holding on the side of a grimace because she needs it that way. She can't have it any other.

"Go on," Sana murmurs into the side of your face, drawing closer so she's got her nails curled down into your thighs, leaning in to place a wet, hot kiss into your cheek. "C'mon baby, she'd told me she'd let you do anything - said she'd swallow everything, like the fucking cockslut she is."

Sana's chin digs against the bone in your shoulder, eyes unwavering on where you disappear over and over inside Tzuyu's throat. And it's not just that - Tzuyu's hair clenched tight in Sana’s one hand, the other curled hard into a fist around the base of your cock, her harsh breaths washing over the bare skin of your neck. It's fucking indecent, how needy she's gotten. How needy she always gets. You can feel her greedy little lips finding your ear and biting just shy of savage enough to break skin, and licking - flicking across the vein beating down in your throat, and then -

"That's right," Sana says with a low growl when you look at her. "Cum."

An impoverished sound rips right through your chest. Spreads through you like wildfire.

And just like that, you're spilling inside her, thrusts growing unsteady and lost in the wet, searing heat of Tzuyu's perfect, wet lips, slapping and sliding into her throat, spilling on her tongue with every surge of pleasure drumming in your blood.

Tzuyu sinks down further. So deep that the brush of the back of her throat feels like a hand on the hilt of a knife, tearing into the ends of your nerves, where they’ve come alight and been set ablaze.

Sana picks up again whispering into the cuff of your ear. It makes your head feel like it might explode. And you're almost entirely certain that's what will actually happen, when the combined pressure between your ears and that of your cock becoming so desperately spent builds and builds and doesn't stop, as though waiting. 

Biding time for some perfect snap.

Only, a tickle at the back of Tzuyu's throat has her choking out. The same uncontrolled way your hips start to falter - shaky, jerky motions instead of any precision or rhythm - and you're tilting and winding your head in circles, jaw tensed, squeezing her scalp and oh, oh fuck. Tzuyu's mouth slides itself all the way off you in one hurried gasp, then two and three, just barely giving her a chance to steady herself, all while you're still leaking thick, white cum all over the slick swell of her bottom lip, up over the ridges of her elegant features, the curves of her cheeks, the high arches of her brows.

Look - you're cumming all over Tzuyu's face. You’re cumming all over her pretty face and she just takes it.

She's, fuck - she's so, so good. And not just because her mouth is fucking perfection, or her eyes are all at once bleary but wide open, watching you twitch, her own cheeks flushing as she stares up at you - trying desperately to breathe, taking a quick lick off the end of your cock, flitting her tongue between her knuckles, because apparently another taste can't hurt.

"Ugh," Sana hushes, right into your neck, "would you just fucking look, see that - god, Tzuyu, how does it feel, does he taste as good as you hoped he would?"

There's a subtle, unmistakable bob in Tzuyu's throat as she's swallowing everything down, the evidence, and a small flash of her tongue. "Good, mmn-" and you can see how she struggles in her restraint to simply say so, to let her hand drift to the 'V' between her thighs and sate that ache.

But even if her body seems ready for more, Sana's finger finds its way underneath Tzuyu's chin to prompt, with one, simple command, "let's get you cleaned up before we give you what you came for. Go on, get our little girl up to the shower, won't you daddy?"

-

It's a minor miracle the three of you make it upstairs and down the hall without so much as a trip or stumble, the girls with their fingers woven together and hips swaying as you all stagger up. It's a minor miracle you don't pin either of them against drywall or up against a doorway or do any of the number of filthy things on the mind of a man just fucked, still coming down, with two gorgeous, perfect faces - two perfectly sculpted asses - all in arms' reach.

The bath mat is still bunched at the back of your bathroom door. Still damp from the last shower - Sana's last morning here - which you have to pry apart just a little so the two of them can file in.

And well - it does happen. Eventually.

At the sink.

Just inside the en suite of your bedroom.

With Sana, being the way she is.

While the faucet in the shower starts up a shallow stream of water - tap running warm, steaming the length of the mirror and condensing the glass that Sana will soon have Tzuyu's face up against if she has any say in the matter.

"Tzu," Sana says, carding a hand through her hair and bringing a damp washcloth up to the bend of her jaw. There's a slow trace of fingertips across the lines of her neck. "Keep your eyes right on his while I clean you up, ok?"

And then there's the mirror in the center. The three of you arranged - a sort of hierarchy - with Sana stepping forward and adjusting her stance in order to survey, and clean the mess she's made. (What you've made.)

In profile, you can't exactly make out a distinct detail about Tzuyu's face in the reflective surface, only the silvery blur that is the curve of her neck, and the silhouette of the small frame that her long, slim legs form against the cabinet. But the idea's always the same - she's being used like a perfect canvas. Like an empty, ready-to-use doll that you can twist and turn in the ways you want until all your control breaks and you're just fucking into her, or having her lick and suck all over Sana's gorgeous fucking tits while she's bouncing in your lap.

Whichever happens to come first.

"You missed a spot," Tzuyu tells Sana, as though she hadn't missed several - her head tilts in your direction, eyes wide still, endless in depth. Her mouth gives away what's already burning its way through her blood. "Maybe another pair of hands will help?"

"Mine are a little rough around the edges," you explain, coming in close. The bathroom is this tight, congested space, but at the right angle there's plenty of room, even if your hips knock slightly into Sana's body. Tzuyu's delicate body already has her back flush against the sink basin. "You want to feel them?"

She shakes her head, and even though the hunger on her tongue hasn't been satisfied, even after having a good fill, there's something else she'd rather have now.

"I think," she starts, her words cut off by a hitch of breath when Sana's lips travel to the very tips of her hair and work their way up to the soft skin behind her ear. "Rough is good, when... when I'm being," Tzuyu's closing her eyes - partly so that she doesn't fall off the edge so easily, partly to lean into the sensations of two warm bodies, all attention placed solely on her.

"When you're being worked over?" Sana offers.

"Ngh," she responds - with an attempt, as best as she can, at a smile. And then there's one, light, teasing stroke across her jaw, her mouth. Sana's thumb pressed gently into the crease. "When the fucking gets..." and you'll have to fill the gap - finishing her thought with your hands slotting themselves onto the gentle arch of her hips, pressing a kiss that doesn't even come close to satisfaction on the supple dip of collarbone.

She lets out this pretty sound at the feel of your lips, Sana's, all ghosting down her throat.

"Hard and deep?" you say. Sana smirks at this - continues the effort, "A little fucking nasty, huh, sweetheart?"

"Mhm." Tzuyu is, above all else, a little helpless. “Because - you know me so well.”

But make no mistake: Tzuyu is exactly where she wants to be. With the heat radiating off her bare body, she leans into it all, only flinching when your teeth catch her nipple - when Sana's tongue laps a rough circle over the other. The scene, the feelings, all of it orchestrated precisely - these are the things she likes, maybe loves even.

And after the soft sounds slip through her lips, a moan and another hum, she finds her words and voice, "hard and deep and, rough and, ff-"

"And?"

The quick brush of your tongue flickers across the hard tip. The sensation draws from Tzuyu this very faint cry and the exhale of a word: "Fast."

"Naughty little thing," Sana presses into her jaw, pulling back to regard you both. To lift a finger, wet the pad with her tongue - and reach down, down, down until her fingertips brush the very line of her thigh, into the slick between her legs. "I love it when girls get all messy."

"Please," is all Tzuyu has to say, barely anything but, as Sana's finger drags slowly inside her folds.

"Patience baby," she murmurs into Tzuyu's open mouth. The exchange is swift but thorough; you watch, all tongue and spit, and your fingers twitch with a sense of loss. "Why don't you remind me how this went last time?"

"Mm, listen here," Tzuyu says in an astute breath, the sound of it like tables turning. There's a firm pull on your wrist - the grip on it guiding you, encouraging you, just where she wants them, into the band of lace around Sana's impossibly narrow waist. You feel Sana sigh in relief, shiver at the touch of a warm palm up against her thighs, and into a pulse-wet cunt, as though the slightest touch will kill her. "I think you might be remembering wrong, Sana."

"And why might that be?"

"Weren't you the one begging me? When I had two fingers up your cunt in your apartment," Tzuyu presses forward, voice lilt and darkening like ink, and Sana whines and crumbles in her palms, knees buckling when there's one sudden and rough slide of fingers right on the base of her spine.

"Yeah?" Sana asks with a rising blush, already knowing the answer - it's her fatal flaw: she's all sharp edges and pointed teeth, right up to the point there's a finger at her own throat, a cock in her hands and a girl working at her clit until she's drooling. "Are you suggesting I'm easy? Is that where you're heading with this?"

Tzuyu's leaned up against the counter, turning Sana's slender frame around in her hands, until she has her fingers up on the over the wire of Sana's bra, palms hot beneath the thin cups, feeling for her nipples, and the change in dynamic is as palpable as the steam rising in the room.

"Let’s not put words in my mouth," she responds simply, dropping another kiss into the back of Sana’s hair. There's another one laid along the sweep of her neck, like a careful bite, and with a lift of a brow, a look that tells you what you've always known, "but if you’re asking, then sure, the sluttiest of all sluts. Easy," she pulls the cups down Sana’s chest, "as fuck."

It gets to her, clearly, as if that moan falling out of Sana's parted lips could mean anything else.

"Daddy?" Tzuyu asks, because apparently she's enjoying the bit, easing into all parts of the character. She can't seem to contain her grin.

"What is it, sweetheart?" you ask, dipping your finger down into Sana's cunt, and fuck - the girl is so, so slick for it. She needs to be taken and torn, that much is clear. Her whimpers don't get softer as your hips drive into her stomach, pinning her between the two of you.

"Is she always this much of a bratty tease? Or is that just how she gets when she gets all worked up over your perfect cock. I know she's aching to feel it stretch out that tight little cunt of hers-

"It's never been all that clear," you answer, before Tzuyu can start to say anything further. A moment of composure, in case Sana wants you to step in.

Except that, she doesn't exactly interrupt the play you and Tzuyu are setting up: "So," Tzuyu remarks instead. "Just for me then."

"It's possible."

The room suddenly feels very full, very small.

"Right. Okay. Well then," you say - watching carefully, when Tzuyu gives you an appraising glance. Sana squirms again beneath the pressure of all these fingers printing over her sensitive skin - she'd love to fuck this. Or be fucked.

"That means you'll have to take good care of your needy little princess, won't you daddy?"

It's surprisingly fitting.

-

Though it hasn’t been that long, all things considered.

Not since Sana effortlessly waltzed her way into your life. And slightly less-than-that, the time it took her thereafter to find herself bouncing in your lap and tugging at your hair while you struggled for breath between her tits. This perfect storm, caught somewhere between laughing and choking and definitely, definitely falling.

It's been a year, maybe. If that. But that's plenty to know.

Know every tilt of her mouth, every sly grin. The different moans that shake loose from the curve of her lips.

Know what it means when Sana's palms hit the tiles of the shower wall, fingers splaying as she goes quiet and submissive, letting out the barest noise of frustration as Tzuyu spreads her tongue over the pucker of her ass - know that the knuckle you curl up in her cunt has her that much closer to unraveling in a stream of whimpers, needy fucking pants and a hoarse sound of gratitude.

Ostensibly for getting her so perfectly, perfectly raw.

"Fuck, yes, that," Sana barely manages, between the messy swipe Tzuyu's tongue makes over her hole. Just this thorough lick, drawing tight, swirling circles around her, lapping at the wetness before making a hot and steady pass over the sensitive stretch of skin, drenching it in spit until Sana's scrambling against the hard surface.

She's not close to going quiet: her cheeks look rounder, like she can hardly keep her noises under control as Tzuyu eases a single fingertip inside the tense muscle of her rim and uses the stretch and warmth of the water raining down her spine, to slip in deeper. Sana's sighing as Tzuyu eats her like an act, an invitation.

You push your fingers deep, deeper, slick, pulling, rubbing, coaxing Sana's mouth apart even as your lips press wet into her cheek. She groans louder, needier, with your hand flexing up a three-finger graze over that bundle of nerves. The kind that makes her back fucking arch.

"You," Sana sputters open like a struck match, burning bright in the steam-cloaked shower, "you, you, you," and it’s not really clear who she’s cursing, "going to - you're going to - you're going to make me-"

"Oh no," Tzuyu sings, starting to straighten herself out - until she’s reminding Sana that she’s the smallest of the three of you and in a possible sort of danger.

She reaches an open palm into the stream of water and splashes off the slick running down her mouth, her chin, her neck - gaze anchored to Sana's trembling figure. It's just one, heavy exhale into the hot, hazy air: "You've got it all wrong.”

Sana twists her head around, face still so wildly attractive amidst the look of worry and that flush of pink taking over from the bottom half. The tiny, imperceptible dip in her brows.

But before she can give voice to a complaint, Tzuyu has her spun by a rough grip around her waist, pinning her back to the tile - water beating down the rise of her breasts and the tops of her shoulders.

"If you're going to cum baby, it'll be all over his thick cock, getting your whole cunt so stretched and stuffed full it'll feel like he's cumming up inside your guts."

You and Sana share this wistful groan of a sigh after Tzuyu wraps her long fingers around your cock, aims you true, and brings you close. Closer. Until you can feel Sana's pulse at her cunt, lips wet and slippery and dripping, just a few inches from where the tip of your cockhead nudges the insides of her thighs. Sana's stomach is seizing in a fluttering of heat and -

"Do you like hearing her beg? That's good. Because this girl's gonna do everything she can to make sure you fuck her raw before you even let her come," Tzuyu's voice lowers, a deep register. "How long can you last, Sana?"

Sana gives you this look, all anticipation and pleasure, holding it for longer than is strictly necessary - and then, her pert little mouth falls open, keening, hissing out a shallow, almost painful, "fuck" the moment you bend at the knees and slip inside.

The feeling that washes over you is a beautiful elixir of relief, an indomitable kind of want, tinged with something heavier, and with just the tiniest hint of longing in the sense that this is not enough, nowhere near enough. It never is.

"God, Sana," is all you manage. All you want to.

Sana doesn't wait around any longer before giving you an impatient shimmy of her hips, fucking herself further down the length of your cock, like she wants to choke on it. And the feeling of it, well, she does it well - the tight warmth swallowing you to the base, her cunt squeezing you all at once, slick and smothering. Fuck, it's all in her eyes. How badly she wants to be held down, split apart. How tightly your fist finds itself locked around Sana's long, wet strands of golden hair as Tzuyu closes any semblance of distance - brushing her lips over where she can tease Sana's open and slack mouth, licking down inside, panting.

"Baby, you are so close, I can feel you trembling," Tzuyu teases, running her fingers up Sana's stomach, cupping steady the breast she can fit in her palm. She drops another messy kiss on Sana’s throat and hums: "Go ahead, cum. I'm sure he doesn't mind.” 

"You're such a prissy fucking- nnh-" Sana's words skirt right over Tzuyu's fingertips before they're shoved roughly across the swell of her lower lip and into the back of her mouth. If Tzuyu's intent was to prove a point, she's about as successful as can be - Sana can only gag quietly around her digits, working her jaw over them.

"Sana, shh-shh-shh, baby, don’t fight it; just cum around around his cock, don't put yourself in a corner and try to play games - he'll fuck you right, until you scream, I promise, and-"

It hardly ever takes much. That's something you've come to appreciate: Sana can't ever help it. With the way it actually feels, you pressing right up against where the rest of her cinches so impossibly tight. She was practically teetering on the edge, on the very cliff and within reach of falling right off of it the instant you fit the very hilt of your cock up the molten-hot stretch of her perfect cunt, sliding, fucking into her while water sprays all over her quivering body, so soft beneath the wash of rain.

One of Sana’s long legs gets wrapped around your waist and you can feel her nails start to dig through the muscles in your shoulders.

Tzuyu smirks right into Sana's temple, biting at the slickness of her skin, running the curve of her thumb around the length of Sana's jugular, and sucking with her teeth when Sana cries out. "How does our girl feel wrapped around you? Wet, huh? Needy?"

"Unbelievable," you answer honestly - and maybe that's the point; Sana's pussy is incredible. Hot and silky and absolutely unreal. There’s no question, whether she's a work of art, or if she'll fuck you up, but you love that part.

“Ruin her for me, won’t you?” Tzuyu prompts, with that twinkle of mischief you're rapidly becoming accustomed to. "She looks even prettier when she's fucked out. I know you know that."

She does, she does, she does.

Your hips snap, up, fuck in - Sana mewling around the shape of Tzuyu's first two fingers - then back, drawing the motion slow, long, full - until you’re crashing forward and sinking up into that warmth you know is spreading across every inch of Sana’s body, swallowing her up inside-out as her legs start to shake and give and her tongue laps recklessly along the outline of Tzuyu's knuckles. 

Sana knows she likes to play at coy and control, but this is never part of the act - your cock fucking her submissive pussy apart - it’s hard to argue she doesn’t love how you can come to own her: hot and fast and filthy, leaving her breathless and desperate, every thrust into her tight cunt punctuated with some pretty whimper. And here, she just… there isn't the luxury, there's nowhere to hide.

Nowhere to run or shy or look away.

Tzuyu curses when finally Sana bites down, part of a long sequence of reflexes that bloom from the depth you fuck up into her cunt. And with her voice back in her throat (Tzuyu's fingers shaking out the sharp pain) she fucking whines into it, unable to stop the steady line of nonsense tumbling past her lips, incoherent except for the single-minded purpose of her own release.

"Fuck, daddy, fuck," Sana repeats in the same way she always does, getting fucked, the letters collapsing into each other. "I'm cumming, fuck, fuck, so fucking wet. God, you're, fuck, right there, oh - I'm cumming, daddy, I’m fucking cumming," is the all further she gets, muddied with the sound of your slicked-up thighs moving in quick rhythm with the beat of your heart, slapping loudly against her skin - loud enough so that the neighbors can probably listen in through paper thin walls.

Then she goes silent, face painted with it all. She isn't crying, the tears won't come, but she's gone this quiet sort of wide-eyed that matches the way she's mouthing, cumming, over and over, you’re pulling me a-fucking-part.

And you believe her. You have to.

Just look at the way her legs are doing all the wrong things. Thighs tensing taut, muscles giving out - she’s slipping down the tiles, back bending and flexing and going limp all at once. Tzuyu's already moving, scooping her up like it's something rehearsed, before you even have to ask, "Tzu, help me hold her up, won't you?"

“Tzu, huh?”

It's not much, but it is worth noting: how Tzuyu, her fingers curling and interlacing between Sana's, holds the girl like she's breakable. Tenderly, cradling Sana's small body against her chest.

"Do you slip into pet names and all that with every girl Sana brings around? Or am I," and when Tzuyu tilts her head, her smile has this very palpable bite, "the exception?"

"Every pretty girl thinks they're special, sweetheart."

Tzuyu just glimpses one downward look into Sana, shivering, riding her orgasm down into nothing, and drops a kiss into her hair. A gentle chuckle: "And when have I ever given you a reason to doubt it?"

"Shameless," is all Sana offers up, beyond exhausted, trying and failing to take more than a passing, somewhat disgruntled interest in the scene unfolding around her, while she clings to the strength Tzuyu and the tile and your hands are putting into her body.

Meanwhile Tzuyu, this devil of a daydream - this tall, skinny thing of long hair and smirking lips and cheekbones as sharp as her wit, has her gaze locked. Still curious, and all but relentless - there's more she's dying to say. It seems almost impracticable that such a lovely woman would really be this way, weapons concealed under all that good-girl charm. And in its most uncomplicated form, that's what it is: an open invitation.

You've only managed the vaguest outlines, after all. "Do you mind?" you ask again.

The next movements feel more elegant than they probably are. Cradling Sana's limp body between you, finding a steady hold.

There’s a slight shuffle to discover a proper balance, a hand slapping the glass of the shower door, and yeah, Sana's fucked out. Slurring out sounds that might resemble the shape of words if she had the presence of mind. The rest are whines and whimpers, obscene in all ways.

“Baby,” Tzuyu tells Sana in a growling kiss to the back of her ear. "Keep your fucking legs up."

(That’s a cue if you were looking for one, to get your arms fastened around Sana's small waist as she leans heavy into your chest.)

"More," The girl in your arms starts to complain, when you truly start fucking her.

"Hurt - hnn, please, more - fuck - harder," and all those sharp edges, that arrogance and conceit, it's all gone. Her pupils are blown out, an animal-like-desire set in its place - these are your invitations to wreck her, you realize, pushing so deep into her well-fucked cunt that she arches, and that her head knocks against Tzuyu's, that the small room is entirely empty save for these movements under the metal cloud of shower water, falling like rain.

This is all there is. 

Tzuyu, smirking like she herself might get off on this. 

Sana, begging.

And when Tzuyu buries a hot smile at her throat, nibbling at the skin - urging her, urging you, this sharp, "now give her the fucking dicking of a lifetime, will you?"

When Sana’s reduced down to her pleas of, please, harder daddy, and deeper, god, I can feel you so deep -

Well,

You’re all instinct. You sink your fingers into the firm skin of her ass, grab at the soft, slippery flesh around her hips. You sink your cock into her hole again and again.

The stretch is obvious and absolutely devastating, making Sana cry out and muffle her face in your shoulder. She makes a weak sort of sound around your neck - it could be anything, maybe please don't stop, or maybe please do - it doesn't matter.

"You look incredible like this baby, does he fuck you well?" Tzuyu croons, curling around her so her head rests on her shoulder - eyes watching Sana, meeting yours. "Oh, come on, aren't you always telling me about how it makes you feel - all this, full and hot and better than anyone? Now's your chance, no hiding from him. Or me."

"It's so, god it's - I -"

"Come on," Tzuyu squeezes out one long, eager moan with her hand dropped onto Sana's breasts, pulling and kneading like she owns it. "Tell him to cum in you baby, like the good fucktoy you are, let him cum up into that creaming pussy until you’re all sticky and leaking cum all over, just the biggest fucking mess."

There is measurable irony, you suppose, in how Sana brings these friends of hers back with the clear expectation to be fucked and torn apart, how they each want the same, all wanting to get her unraveling and her knees buckling. Only Tzuyu manages, more efficiently than anyone you've ever seen, to leave her all wanton and squirming against your hard, relentless thrusts into her needy cunt.

It's easy: this isn't difficult, there is nothing hard about falling for each and every promise her face has to offer - knowing her body's secrets and drawing the story out, line by line, so you can fall in love with it over and over, all while Sana starts to go helpless at the shape of your cock filling up that tiny, wanting cunt.

So you cum. Inside her. In one final push, filling her completely.

Sana opens her mouth like she's trying to say something - say yes - say daddy, say fuck yes daddy.

"That's it," Tzuyu strokes down Sana's belly. "I knew it - now keep your pretty thighs shut. Can't let even a drop out, understand?"

"Yes, fuck. It's - fuck - good, he feels," Sana finally sobs, chest heaving as you grind the last little bits of cum deep, so far and hot as it can get. All the way in. Where it's hot and wet and throbbing and slick.

Where it should stay, because you never pull out. You savor the last bit of your pulse, sporadic and lethargic. Because in truth - your mind is made and your mouth won't say it because you don’t need to.

Tzuyu's wringing the water out of Sana's hair, picking the strands into careful folds. "Alright then," and her grin is positively lecherous.

There's a bench in the corner of the shower where you eventually arrive, panting now that you realize it, and Sana makes herself at home right in your lap, face buried in your shoulder. Grinding her hips down in this almost imperceptible circle, circling back and feeling. Holding you inside and murmuring into your collarbone.

(Fucked, Sana is simply and unfairly beautiful.)

It’s all in that exhale of a moment, when Tzuyu catches water in cupped palms from the shower-head, wiping away what stray tracks of soapiness left on Sana's shoulder-blades and breasts and thighs. Her hands all up and down her body, sudsing the crease between leg and torso, down lower still, around her sensitive pussy and her folds.

You wonder if she can hear you swallow.

"Maybe we should actually wash up before we go again?"

-

The first thing Sana's free hand goes for when she stumbles through the threshold of your bedroom is a hair band you didn’t know she was storing in the top drawer of your dresser. She fidgets around keeping her towel wrapped tightly around her chest as though modesty were an option at this point.

"What?" she asks, fixing you with a slightly-irritated, slightly-teasing smirk. "You look like you have something you want to say."

"Nothing." You laugh out loud. "It's nothing. I'm just waiting."

She makes this face at you, guilty - so sorry about the contraband - as she twists her wrists and pulls the hair band round her middle-finger, wrapping her palms around her knot of wet blonde and bundling it into a half-assembled ponytail. It leaves the length of her nape exposed and vulnerable, neck flushed pink-from-showering in all the most wonderful of places.

"Waiting," is what she hones in on.

Tzuyu is pulling out of the bathroom. Her hands, washed clean and dried off with a fluffy, off-white towel. When she sets it down, she steps back, leaning on the frame. "He's waiting, for what I wonder?"

She's made of all things smooth-and-sharply-cut. Even from here, even through the sleep-haze fog, the silhouette of her nude figure gives itself to a small sense of anticipation. The long and smooth sweep of her chest, from breast, up and out, and then tapering along down to where her hips flare. She takes a step and then another and lets her fingers ride her side, from the very top of the shallow indentation in the dip of her waist, up. Then the tautness of her abdomen and further still, running slow and over the breast, coming to cup its full weight, pushing the bottom of the curve outwards.

"Waiting to," and she wets her lips in something akin to expectation. "Pound me into the fucking bed?"

You’re smiling when you explain, "I was going to say a request…"

Tzuyu’s dimples deepen. "You mean, like, we can tell you what to do?”

You sit on the bed, which is actually more of a proposition than you realize. "I suppose."

"Sana, sweetie, is there something I should be doing for him," Tzuyu looks up, wearing that trademark kind of playful expression that is definitely deliberate and not at all a tell. "Or maybe I've got this all wrong and you know exactly what you want."

"Well," you manage in reply, sounding surprisingly sane. "Don't both start coming forward with any ideas you have no intention of following through."

"And what if I have no ideas at all? What would you tell me then," is the challenge you find hanging around the slender outline of Tzuyu's wrists, and then at the back of her fingers, as she cards her hands through her hair and pulls it prettily over rise-and-falls of her collarbones, until it's barely curtaining her breasts. 

(Barely.)

She crosses over to the bed - to you and Sana - and without much other movement than that, finds a knee on either side of you to let a lone fingertip skirt the tops of your hips. Flirting with the towel around your waist.

"For the record," Tzuyu says, flicking a glance at Sana and leaning down into your jawline. The palm she slides over your thigh is so warm, so promising of its heat and pressure you'd swear you can almost taste the touch of her. "I never, ever go back on my word."

"Try me," you tell her.

"I do have some, ideas." Every time her fingernail ends up between her teeth, it’s another drop in a well that runs god knows how deep. "Though very few of them involve this towel."

“And about the ones that do?”

"Well," Tzuyu starts to purr - reaching a hand down and spreading the flat of her palm on your chest, "I figured if I ever wanted something to bite down on, well, you know."

It's just a subtle little rock - and the perfect view: she starts like this, her hair all tucked behind one shoulder, the arch of her back lifting. Slow at first, Tzuyu only pausing after every other short breath to lick and kiss your lips with hers, and the edges of her teeth, all soft and insistent. You are sure - that with a subtle twitch, a minor jerk of the knee or hip - she is almost right over the perfect place, and when her hips grind in these micro-friction little motions that have her sighing and pushing herself flush, it's clear that all she's looking to do is rub her cunt down all over the erection you've been holding in since the last time your towel was hanging somewhere above your waist.

"Hold, please," Sana interrupts, when she leans over and plucks something out of the messy contents of the nightstand - a few hair clips, and, more importantly, a condom. She swears aloud when the package tears the wrong way, but she's quick to apply a lip balm-slick finger-tip on the inside of the ring, and hands the thing to Tzuyu by way of a passing roll, "so, I assume you've got this under control."

"Give me that."

"Mm. Have at it."

There is an intrusive thought that finds its place, wedged somewhere at the base of your skull when Tzuyu starts the careful act of lowering herself down your shaft - like this, it has an inevitability - a forward momentum, the familiar sense of excitement building a force in your heartstrings. Sana must have a similar sensation, as she scoots her ass and slides one hand over the same place you feel that force thrumming, her palm reaching right for Tzuyu's ass, while Tzuyu hisses out a tiny sound at the added stretch.

"Careful," Sana says, fingers drawn back from the cleft of Tzuyu's beautiful ass with a string of slick that's unmistakably arousal. "You try going back after having his cock. And trust me, there's nothing to go back to. Like, ever."

"That must be why you're always like this," is Tzuyu's cock-sure comeback, finding herself flush with your hips.

You're biting down. You're holding back. You're probably digging nails into your palms hard enough to break skin, because you could be double, triple wrapped, latex running up your length like a goddamn balloon and you'd still feel the hot, melting perfection of Tzuyu's pussy swallowing your cock in one, slick, seamless motion. There isn't any sound either more pleasing than that hitch-groan-slip you hear as Sana helps guide Tzuyu's hips back, forth, back again and to a steady beginning of this proper pace: smooth and full.

You both need a second, because, fuck - and she's biting into a grin. Eyes already half lidded as the speed builds. As Tzuyu starts really enjoying the drag of it, the feeling. The god-damn-fucking-stretch.

"Oh? Like what?" Sana asks, smirk filling out her lips to bridge the silence you're both groaning into. "Like what?"

"Greedy," Tzuyu says. The only part that really needs to get filled in. "Because he fucks the self-control right out of you."

Now Sana lets that settle, and it's not like she doesn't know. Or doesn't understand. And still, "Mm. That does sound like me, doesn't it, daddy?"

(Yeah, well- you- )

Tzuyu watches you watch what happens next: Sana peeling out the cotton slip of her bath towel - sizing up just how good Sana looks. Fuck-me-raw.

And then she laughs, deep and gorgeous. "Didn't he just do a number on you - hn, god. Can you hear him all up inside me? Fucking, splitting me apart."

It's true.

All of it.

The way Tzuyu rides your cock. Faster, faster, rolling her body and drawing her hands together behind the length of her hair and neck until the point of her chin is upturned, showing off the hollow of her throat. A tension that glitters with sweat.

The tightening in the space between the bottom of her ass and your cock - all of it is heaven. This slow-and-rough, rough-and-fast. Tzuyu picks the tempo of it to fuck out a particular pleasure that has you catching her and pulling her closer to your body, holding her through the upward grind, where your cock meets the heat of her cunt - pressing her closer.

That's it.

Possessive. That's what both girls have the good grace to read.

Sana's hands come up Tzuyu's ribs, fingertips skirting the muscle-taut-surface of her stomach, the bumps and grooves of her ribs, and up further still, riding the path of her breasts as they're bobbing-jostled and going full-on heavy - her thumbs go at her nipples. Rolling around the hardened tips - the faintest tug at them, enough to start to pull - then just teasing them between thumb and forefinger and loving the sight of you wincing. Loving that you love that.

"She's pretty, isn't she?" Sana laughs.

"It's a real show," you bite the compliment out. The very least you can get to.

(You'll be fucked if you can hide how much you want to stay buried in this girl and cum a fucking waterfall between those perfect, creamy thighs. Oh, she knows. The dirty little smile, the filthy laugh, you're holding tight - even if the act is useless.)

"Like how she clamps down," she hums. "That's the part I've always loved, you know. She just does everything so slow, so fucking good, so... deliberate."

There's a fist in Tzuyu's hair and no trace of sympathy or self restraint in her friend when Sana tells her, "Baby, ride him slow for me, can you do that?"

When Tzuyu sucks a hiss through her teeth, mouth caught around the sharp intake, Sana just licks a slow line along the curve of her lower lip - as though saying, baby, like the slut you are, remember who asked nicely? 

And it turns out: slow is worse. You can feel every tiny tremor of friction, every little shift of Tzuyu's cunt squeezing you. Clinging tightly. Your fingers wrap around her rib cage and hold her right as her ass hits your lap, while her head rolls back into her own hair. It is enough, finally, to draw an out-of-breath little pant out of her, making a beautiful blush crawl and spread across her cheeks - there.

(Oh, fuck, your brain echoes. So, you want slow, that's what the noise from your throat says as she eases back, rising up. So slow, you-can-feel-all-of-me. She makes the effort so flawlessly, it's fucking you both over, because she's looking at Sana with this flutter-beat look, eyes wide, wet and round and pleading.)

It gets that much worse the minute Sana pushes her down by the shoulders. Giving her some resistance. Showing you both she can take you inch by slow goddamned inch.

"Harder. Deeper, sweetie."

Tzuyu does everything Sana says she'll do, loving her fingers in her hair, pulling tight. Control given as easily as that. Because she looks just how she feels: utterly surrendered. A helpless kind of want, like there's something broken in her chest when the head of your cock pushes her deep, deep. To the point she feels something more than an ache.

"Want it," Tzuyu whispers out against Sana's smile. "From the back, like you promised," she says, and takes the shudder out of your breathing.

Sana cups her jaw, laughing. She puts one arm around Tzuyu's throat and bites at her chin, at her ear. "I bet he'd do just about anything to give you what you want, baby."

Tzuyu’s hips snap down onto yours again. Melting your cock in this thick, molten heat.

And again, faster. Needier.

The kind of movements across your lap that make everything louder - a beautiful chorus of small-sounds. Slaps and squelching. Wet and gasping and begging and skin-on-skin. You'd never, ever considered the act a competition before, not with Sana. But when Tzuyu seems to be seeing who can pull the most erotic of noises out from underneath your ribcage - or the highest pitched sigh - the wetter and louder it all gets -

"Sana."

"Tzu."

Tzuyu rides the pressure and finds her voice, head thrown back, jaw slack. "Sana - tell him to, I'm gonna, soon. Tell him what to do."

"Beg for him," and Sana gives her the fakest-of-all-pouts when she slips her hand along Tzuyu's inner thigh, nearing her where the two of you meet, then slowing her pace, bringing you both to an immediate stand-still, while her fingertips continue, ghosting across the shape of your stomach. "He doesn't need anything less than the truth."

Tzuyu's face. It's the most gorgeous thing you've seen. Her hips are winding slow against you when you hit a spot you're not entirely sure either of you can recreate at your own whim: deep inside. Her eyes as wide as they can be. All of her sharp edges now just these subtle things - the very shape of the shadow beneath her clavicle, the tensing of her thighs at your sides, the gentle lines that curl up from the wide bottoms of her hips when your fingers thread up her belly, palm open flat.

"I want," is where Tzuyu starts, not hiding it any part. "I want you to bend me over the bed." 

And in a breathless voice: 

"Please, please let me have what I want. Just bend me over the bed, shove my legs apart and take me. Hold me down. Fuck me and fill me and don't let me move or say a thing. Until we're both fucking finished."

You swallow. Hard.

Because here's what Sana's brought you: this tall brunette with an impossibly beautiful ass and thighs to die for, a sin-full mouth. The curves in her waist and back and tits a distraction, that you might try to map out until you're so lost you forget how to leave, how to ever take your cock out of this tight cunt.

"Is that a thing you can do?" Tzuyu practically purrs in one long tone, pushing herself up your waist, until your cock falls out and hangs there. Until you can only see all of this clear, gorgeous skin in front of you and hear her pretty little moan. "God, please, daddy, I’m begging you."

(She says this last part in a way that lets you know this isn't something either of you will get over easily, the kind of pleasure, the feeling and the flash. She's unreadable - almost, not quite- just too honest, there's nothing else for you to believe. Maybe that's where the shiver comes from, or your palms itching, or the sounds of your bedding ruffling as you spin her onto her back, her tummy - pull up on her hips until they're sky high and you can palm her breasts, let her press her knees up and apart on the duvet. Until you get that first look down the column of her spine and the sudden, stunning shape of her ass in a view you never want to say goodbye to.)

Tzuyu slides her hands across your sheets, all this stretch. A flex of muscle. When she opens her hips and you push two fingers deep, inside, easy - then back out -

"How much of that," Tzuyu interrupts, blushing furiously, "do I have left to beg with? Please."

- because she's been soaked and aching all day just thinking about it. Just begging for a good fucking - or so she told Sana, who now giggles and leaves small kisses up the ridge of her spine, crawls alongside the dip-line of the mattress, and after curling her fingers around the column of Tzuyu's throat - smooths a single fingernail up and down and presses, tracing, the groove of her jaw as you nudge your cock against her.

It’s not on purpose, this needlessly drawn-out moment - simple brush of latex against her slick, dripping folds, the tightening in her core and how it matches the tension in Sana's wrist and the coarseness of the bed-linens and the hardness of you - but everything eventually folds, into her.

And you're not helping, the way you're fastened to the narrow point of her waist like it's a handle. Your thumbs riding the arch of her hips, taking every opportunity to sink your fingers hard into the flesh, grip tighter and push, pulling Tzuyu, if only to really work that friction between your hips.

"Fuck, it's all in. Finally." Sana gasps like she's the one being bent, arched, fucked from behind, then lays herself down against the length of Tzuyu's shoulder, chin bumping her cheek. Watching Tzuyu. Taking it all in.

You have a hard time making it out, but Tzuyu starts this half-whimpered litany about how she needs to be fucked (that is, roughly - deep and long, or maybe rough and short and deep, or whatever, as long as it makes her lose composure), followed with some shoddy mix of cursing and your name and Sana's - the things all three of you might consider for another chance meeting.

And as you're following up the suggestion with a low groan, that's exactly how you notice that grind in her hips - a jerk back, a twist, bucking against you. She feels so, so incredibly tight when she writhes onto you, squeezes. Like she wants to tear her heart out her chest, she's so overwhelmed. So thoroughly and totally taken by this fuck. By you. "Harder," is all she says.

This one line does it, then two more. All in-and-out thrusts from behind, fuller the second time, then the third.

Only when you find Tzuyu peering back over her shoulder with a pair of eyes that say, please, pretty-please, all liquid and warm and wanting. "Fucking ruin that cunt, I want - god. Do you have the slightest idea how much," and that is where the words disappear into a slow and sticky whine.

"Yeah baby," Sana whispers.

She knows what it is. Tzuyu wants so much more, so you give it. Give her the just-this-side-of-ruthless fucking and the slow-pace grind you know can push her right over the edge. Give her more, all of you, and get her hands twisting in the pillow and grabbing fistfuls of sheets, burying her face into the space above her wrists and nearly choking on her hair with how she moans and yelps - loud.

Her whole body jolts forward the next time. The arch to her back deepening. Body drawing in on a flawless line.

Tzuyu does cum. Eventually.

She keens and rolls and begs you not to pull out or slow, just stay put and fill her with your cum - keep fucking going, please. The only thing keeping her from landing flat on your mattress as she practically unravels around your cock are fingers you have under her hips, tightening. Bruising.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck me, you’re,” you’re railing out of her lungs, where the words hang on sex-stale air.

First with Sana whispering promises into her ears and letting Tzuyu swallow, and suck around the length of her index, then two, fingers. Then licking a kiss into her mouth, tongue tangling up hers and finishing up the act with, "cum for us, Tzu, like the sweet girl you are - you take him so well."

Then, with your hand held over her ass-

(She could cry from it. From how everything pulls you in, like a riptide, and, really, with no regard for things like safety or drowning.)

-the utterance off her lips has your stomach twisting into knots:

"Keep," you hear her ask Sana. Barely getting the words out as you ride, fast. "Please, keep, telling him that I - god."

It gets worse before it gets better.

"I can't - I need; fuck, I can’t, with the rubber, I want him," and Sana smirks like she knew all along. "Sana, please-"

"You want the real thing, sweetie. Isn't that right, baby? Hm. Of course it's okay," and Sana soothes a hand through her friend's fringe, pushes it away from her eyes and over her ears, making something that sounds like an adoring laugh slip out. "You want him to fuck his cum so deep in that pussy, I know you do, don't worry."

When you slow down the grinding, wipe the sweat from your face, Sana gets your attention and nods to the very place your cock is disappearing between the cheeks of Tzuyu's ass, "go ahead. If you want the mess-up, sweetie - let's make sure that's exactly what he'll give you."

Who exactly wants what most is hard to say. Sana's the one pulling off the condom, the rubber stretching to an obscene limit that has you fearing for your life should it snap back before it breaks. Tzuyu is already a sort of gaping mess with it all, her own fingers snuck under to rub harsh circles in the absence of cock and something firm and heavy to fill her. To feel full.

And there's you, asking, or maybe, double-checking: "Tzuyu, you're saying you want me to-"

"She doesn't care," is what you're interrupted with, courtesy of Sana. "Fuck a baby into her cunt, that's what she wants."

(Like you wouldn't fucking love it too. Or have the frame of mind to even begin to unpack all of that.)

It’s a lot, admittedly.

And not just because Tzuyu has never looked better: on all fours, pressed, and presented. Legs all the way apart and ass and thighs in your grip, with that smile all pointedly certain and wild-eyed, like, she knows, that you know exactly what to give her - what she really wants - filling her so full and marking your claim by fucking your cum right to her very core.

Tzuyu drags her head back, so she can peek over her shoulder and meet your eyes.

She does things. Like sighing this small sound and laughing and - she has this thing for noises, for things breaking under the strain, where she won't say a word, except to murmur some part of your name into your jawline, a raggedness in her breathing. Sheer hunger.

"I want - want you to, fuck me."

You will. Or you are. Or you're going to, only - Sana's lips are fast around your cock, fingers fluttering delicately between your thighs and drawing these stuttering sounds in your breath, "I will. I will. I'm - I will."

Sana just hums, copper hair bobbing in place. Her hot mouth and wet fingers pulling and sliding and pulling and sliding. Tongue moving in all the ways she knows you like.

Which, here’s a fact: Sana can be mean. No one would believe it.

But sometimes this is the price of admission. You have to be honest about what it takes, how, exactly, you intend to break this beautiful brunette whose ass is swaying back and forth in this mesmerizing little waggle of the hips. It's hard not to marvel, not to ask questions and not wonder at what a pair of friends so similar and so opposite do to each other and other people and to themselves in those small, private hours and space no one else shares, that has you panting and burning and her clasping the hollow of your neck and asking with her body if this is okay, because sometimes, in moments of absolute need, just a glance can mean your end.

So, there's no tease; Sana is well aware of what it feels like when you're throbbing and ready to burst - she's working you up and over and right to that point of no return-

"Can I? Fucking-"

"Fine," she replies, maybe having now considered every other way you might spill a hot load out and make a mess of the sheets. "Have at her," and a flick of tongue catches around the tip of your cock - the final tease, the best punishment.

And the promise of how Tzuyu makes that perfect whimpering cry. Something entirely wounded. Because as soon as it begins - your cock in the shallow depth of her creaming cunt - you're both made aware how she's wetter than she was an hour ago and clenching at nothing, hands balling themselves in frustration, palms bunched white-knuckled up in fists. She needs something, anything. Something for her to squeeze against. For her to bear down on and bounce her cunt off-

The sound all three of you make when you grit your teeth and bury yourself deep into her pussy is a guttural, aching thing, with you biting a lip and gasping. Tzuyu half-growling-half-sobbing into the sheets.

It doesn't matter that she lets Sana cover her open and slack mouth in an attempt to quiet it.

It doesn't matter because in a blink, the exact point in which you sink completely inside - where it's the first, the best, feeling of Tzuyu’s hot pussy taking your cock.

(Mind-numbing, is the word that doesn't come to you.)

Under you, Tzuyu is writhing and hot and tight into the mattress - and so desperate.

"Please," is about all that gets away from her. Which is just too cute to ignore: she's been dying to be fucked, ever since stepped into your foyer and was introduced by the softest, most deliberate of gestures that wound up being all-too intimate. "Please- I need - harder, fucking-"

Sana takes to touching you, her own little form of enjoyment that ends with her fingertips mapping the shape of your jaw. Pupils blown, "Isn't she amazing?" Sana laughs into your neck.

"Fucking," is what your first real stroke back into Tzuyu pulls out,  “unreal."

The friction has you both grinding your bodies together at the base, and she arches, this throaty moan, before looking back up at you and letting her mouth fall open - this wordless sentence of plea, over and over again. She's shaking. Body-full. It's almost something painful to see, that she's so undone - and what if you were the only person who'd ever fucked her like this: into ruin.

Tzuyu clenches around the next thrust - begging, so-sore-and-begging to cum.

The demand is practically written in her muscles, and all you want is for her to let go for the second, third, last time - until she loses track of the count. To get there before you have the time to register that she is actually doing it. She's already half-way gone and at your mercy - her only choices now, being: cum, or let you chase the orgasm you're currently rubbing all around the curve of her cunt.

Sana swallows her scream when the first little cry comes, that you've edged out of her. And it gets worse and better the second time her ass meets your thighs, where she's making a real mess on your hips and all but yelling out her orgasm in her state of such incoherent stutter and disarray. The arch to her back is this thing out of your best imagination, which has you - pounding out all her noises - gripping and curving over the plane of her stomach. Until Tzuyu's beginning to make these different cries, somewhere new, somewhere you're finding a whole lot deeper.

"Hold her ass up and fuck her 'til she's full of cum," is the advice you get from Sana in the end, as you fuck her and fuck her through the tumultuous rise and fall of orgasm after orgasm, "oh baby, does it hurt so good? Do you feel that heat spreading down your thighs and getting you all slick? You always knew the best toys are the ones that get bred, sweetheart."

And from her, barely, "fuck, yes."

That's what does it: the desperation just that tangible in all your voices.

Sana manages to get her lips on yours. A kiss that could knock the wind out of your sails under normal circumstances, one that curls a fist and tugs around a familiar part of you. But Tzuyu's eyes roll and drop low, fluttering shut, while your hips crash in quickening succession:

"Fuck-you're so-perfect, cum in me again, daddy - make me," and, "please, so fucking full, just give me more. Want more of you, until it's-"

Tzuyu gets you. Just there. Just the way you needed it. Just like that.

There's something addictive in how her muscles clench and grab around the head of your cock - drawing everything you'd been holding back to a painful front, and - Sana's taste in your mouth still so sweet, mixed with salt and sweat, while you fuck and pound, with absolutely zero respite. Cum buried deeper and deeper until it's spilling and Tzuyu whines for the filthy feeling. Until you're fucked through, emptying every single drop into her open cunt. Until your legs feel sore, a slight shake all through the muscle and the tension in your neck and shoulders, and you're growling this thing that might be her name, and "Tzu, my god, baby, you feel, so amazing," in between thrusts.

It earns you an appreciative whimper.

Something breathy and not-at-all restrained. She doubles down on it when your cock slides out of her swollen, well-fucked cunt.

At first, she only hums a sleepy smile and turns her face in toward the touch, eyes closed and unresponsive. A long exhale. Even like this - especially, perhaps - Tzuyu is lovely.

Either out of exhaustion or overbearing satisfaction, you collapse into her - bodies folding up like that old-cliche about a stack of cards or dominoes - with your cheek to her back and your arms wrapping around her chest, tight, trying to squeeze. Like you're hugging someone from behind. Which isn't too far off. Because for the next five or ten or fifteen minutes or a half-hour, you lie there, pressing your face in against the side of her neck, smelling her hair - how sweet the strands are - then down along her shoulders, and under, listening to the soft way Tzuyu falls into her breaths. 

In, out. In, out.

Sana follows all the while with, "should we not have let her ride, first?"

To which, Tzuyu says, "fuck off."

Sana brushes it off, crawls around your shoulders and slips two, three, five kisses into your forehead. That's when you know to shuffle over, dragging and tugging limbs and muscles and bone in the same direction - careful not to let the sticky sensation linger anywhere it shouldn't. Not even for an instant.

The three of you are laying in a total fucking mess. But it's your mess, and that's beautiful in a sort of thought-provoking poetic way.

You turn your head. Tzuyu's there, still, blinking slowly.

"Hello again, hi," you say and the smile comes up all sorts of natural. "Okay?"

Her gaze shifts into something vague, so much quieter, but she nods. So it must be. Okay.

-

“Is it too early?” Tzuyu asks two weeks later, and nothing has ever, ever started like that.

She’s at your doorstep, a little too dressed up for the middle of the afternoon, hair pulled away from her face in two loose braids, bright eyes, lip-gloss that shimmers just enough. Something innocent in the whole way she looks and stands and smiles. Nothing, on the surface, that gives the truth away.

You lift an eyebrow, skeptical. Always. "I wasn't expecting company."

"Yes you were," and she dangles a set of keys.

"I'm sorry, did you steal those?"

The laughter from her chest is as surprising as it is gorgeous, rich and thick like molasses, rolling over the shape of her tongue. It hits you hard that two weeks - really, any amount of time - it’s not nearly long enough.

And before Tzuyu can admit as much out loud, Sana chirps from her spot aside the door, knee bent and grinning, "maybe I did."

"Well," you say, hands on your hips, "this is all a little..."

"Irregular, I know." Sana's giving her best impression of you: so exasperated.

"Which is, honestly," she continues to explain, pushing away from her perch and approaching in these small, gentle steps. "We need, that thing you promised you'd do," she trails a finger up the buttons of your shirt, under your jaw. You're already drowning. "Whenever" - is her very worst torture - "we called."

(Might just be a little bit of trouble, is the one honest answer, to whatever you were trying to start when you saw their faces and recognized their bodies and said: yes, come inside and meet me and fuck my brains out, all that.

What a way to begin. What a story it'll be.)

a/n: these two are fucking adorable.

#twice smut #sana smut #tzuyu smut #kpop smut #male reader smut #twice sana smut #twice tzuyu smut

[v-hope]

glad you’re missing TF bc me too, i wanna see them finally settling and knowing they’re ready for the next big step in their lives or even just discussing building a family after grad or when they’re at a good stage in their careers🥺🤧

pairing: jeon jeongguk x reader

genre: slight angst, flufffff, established relationship, non-idol au

warnings: pregnancy scare, mentions of condoms, mentions of unprotected sex

word count: 2.3k

a/n: um. hello after years lolll. i started going through very old requests in my ask box yesterday in case i found anything that’d bring some inspiration to my very uninspired self, and i found manyyyy tiger flower ones and this one in particular reminded me of a headcanon of mine that i never wrote nor mentioned (i think) but for some reason it was??? an actual Thing???? in my mind????? so yeah lol here i am. i don’t think anyone even cares about tiger flower (minus one person. u know who u are<3) anymore, BUT fuck it, i missed them and enjoyed writing this. i hope whoever reads it enjoys it too, bye<333

A pregnancy scare wasn’t something you were expecting only two months into moving in together after your graduation. It wasn’t something you were expecting at all.

At most, you and Jeongguk had agreed on getting a puppy as a new addition to your family of two. Said discussion happened when the two of you had only been together for a few months, a little over a year ago, where you both agreed on moving in together after you graduated college and then get a puppy right away.

Moving in together was not up for debate — you knew so the moment Jeongguk got a job in the last year of college and so did you, saving enough money to get a decent place and looking for apartments throughout the entire year, so you could secure a lease as soon as your previous ones ended. On the other hand, although you were still excited as hell to get a dog, once you were settled in your shared place, you were both too busy and overwhelmed trying to keep up with your new jobs and all the new changes in your lives to even think of adding another responsibility on top of them all, let alone one that had to do with a living creature.

If neither of you felt ready to get a puppy yet, how the hell were you supposed to raise a child?

Your heart beat so fast against your chest, you felt like you would pass out any moment, as you paced around the bathroom while you waited for the pregnancy test to tell you whether you’d bring another human being to the world in nine more months or not. Endless thoughts running through your mind as you did so, and you internally cursed at yourself for not having waited outside with Jeongguk instead — God knows you needed his arms around you to bring you comfort.

You definitely needed Jeongguk to hold you, you realised the second the alarm you set as soon as you took the test finally went off, managing to somehow turn it off with your shaky hands, and fighting not to drop your phone as you took a deep breath and closed your eyes for a moment before taking a look to the test on the sink.

Once you earned enough courage to finally open your eyes and focus them on it, you exhaled all the air you didn’t know you were holding up until then — instant relief washing through your body.

Negative.

You were given another chance not to raise a child when neither of you were ready.

And yet, a part of you couldn’t help but feel a little bit disappointed, empty even, now that said possibility was out of the way.

Although it was not the right time, a family with Jeongguk was something you’d always be happy about — and something you were only now realising you longed for way more than you thought you did.

Coming out of the bathroom and meeting a very distressed Jeongguk waiting right outside the door, you shook your head no right away, just like that letting him know you were on the clear this time around.

He let out a heavy, shaky sigh, rubbing his eyes with his palms as he processed the news, before he pulled you into his arms like you so badly needed him to — melting into his familiar touch and inhaling his scent as you felt yourself begin to calm down.

He said nothing, you said nothing. Your arms around one another and feeling each other’s comfort were all you needed right then.

Jeongguk didn’t let go until he felt your body stop trembling, only pulling away enough to rest his forehead on yours and cup your face in his warm hands.

“You okay?” He wondered; for a change, not being able to tell what the expression on your face meant right then.

He genuinely didn’t know whether you were relieved or not. And, therefore, he didn’t know how to react to the news. Yes, he had sighed in relief a minute ago, but that was as much as he’d let himself express until he knew how you felt about the whole situation.

You nodded, still a little bit stunned — not knowing whether you should say what was on your mind. Then again, it was Jeongguk the one in front of you, holding you. You knew you could tell him anything and he would understand, or at least try his best to do so.

“Is it wrong that I feel a little bit disappointed?” You finally mumbled, catching his attention. “I mean, I know we’re not ready, and we haven’t planned it at all and I would be so fucking terrified had it turned out positive, but, I just…”

“I get it,” he stepped up when he realised you wouldn’t talk anymore, gently reaching for your hands and holding them in his. “Of course I’m relieved we’re not having a baby right now, but… a part of me really wants to start a family with you now”.

“Now?” You playfully raised an eyebrow.

“Not now,” he panicked. “But, I mean, in the near future, but not that nea—ugh, you get it”.

You couldn’t hold back a giggle, biting your lip when he rested his head on your shoulder, embarrassedly hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“I know,” you reassured him, running your thumb on the back of his hand. “I can’t wait to start a family with you either. It’d be cute, wouldn’t it?”

He nodded — one hundred percent on board with it, yet pensively.

Up until that day, you hadn’t really discussed your future together. It was more of a given. Unspoken, but you both knew you wanted everything with each other. From moving in together, to getting married, to having kids, to growing old together.

Maybe it was finally time for you to actually bring those thoughts up.

“What do you think is a good age for us to start trying?” Jeongguk wondered, his voice gentle as ever.

You puckered your lips as you pondered your options. “I mean, we’re only twenty three this year… Maybe in another two or three more?”

“Yeah…” he quietly agreed. “We still need to get the hang of living together on our own…”

“Getting a puppy…” you added.

“Save some money” Jeongguk considered.

“Get a bigger place”.

“Get married”.

You smiled at his addition, feeling the by now very familiar butterflies fill your stomach. Reaching your hand up to cup his cheek, you sweetly ran your thumb over the corner of his mouth.

“You wanna marry me?”

“I am marrying you, Y/N” he confidently stated, only to feel his cheeks burn the next second when he caught the way your eyes lit up. “I mean, if you’ll take me, of course…”

You giggled once again, this time throwing your head slightly back as you rejoiced at the new bit of information your boyfriend had just provided you with. “I am marrying you so hard one day, Jeon Jeongguk”.

He beamed, giggling against your mouth as he searched for it and trapped your bottom lip in between his smiling ones.

You couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh of your own, wrapping your arms around his neck when he held you up by your thighs and took you to the sofa only a few steps away in your living room — not letting go of you for a second as he carefully lied on his back with you on top of him.

Lying your face comfortably on his chest, and running your fingertips up and down on it, you let out a contented sigh.

“So, kids sometime after we’re twenty six?” You returned to your previous conversation, before you got carried away by your desire to spend the rest of your lives together.

He hummed in response. “We should already have achieved all our previous goals by then, so I think it’s the most reasonable”.

“After twenty six it is then” you settled, smiling brightly when he reached for your hand and interlaced your fingers. “How many would you like?”

“Two or three would be nice,” Jeongguk confessed. “I’m okay with as many as you’re willing to have, though”.

“I always thought two… a girl and a boy” you admitted, feeling him smile against your head. “But I wouldn’t mind having three of them with you” a smile curved up your lips at the simple thought.

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “Two girls and a boy, or two boys and a girl…”

“What if it’s three girls?” You looked up at him.

“That’d be nice” he smiled.

“And if it’s three boys?”

“That’d be nice, too”.

“Mhm…” you squinted your eyes, suspiciously staring into his. “You want at least one girl so bad, Jeon Jeongguk”.

“I didn’t say that?” He defended himself.

“I can see it in your eyes” you playfully poked his forehead.

He rolled his eyes in amusement, tightening his hold on your hand to stop you from poking him again. “Well, sue me for wanting a mini version of you”.

Your heart melted, and you were pouting before you knew it. “I want a mini bun, too”.

“Too bad, we’re only having three girls now” he teased.

“Shut up,” you whined, slumping your face back down on his chest. “You just created a new need for me”.

Jeongguk’s chest trembled as a blissful laugh escaped his lips, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you so close to him you almost found it hard to breathe. You would never complain about it, though, let alone when his lips began to pepper kiss after kiss on the crown of your head.

“I love you,” he said. “And honestly I’ll be happy with whatever sex they are as long as they’re ours and we raise them together”.

His words brought tears to your eyes and a lump in your throat, being apparently still too sensitive over the whole situation not to feel like crying when he said the most reassuring words you needed to hear.

“You’re gonna make me cry” you let him know, looking up to meet his doe eyes once more. “But I’ll be the happiest as long as that’s the case, too”.

Jeongguk smiled timidly, gently pushing your chin slightly up for your lips to come in contact with his; pressing a soft kiss on them before his arms were once again tightening their hold around your waist.

“I’m sorry” he mumbled, nuzzling your hair.

“What for?” You questioned.

Jeongguk shrugged, fingers drawing small circles on your back. “For putting you through this…”

You chuckled, burying your face in his neck. “It takes two to make a child, bunny. Which we didn’t get to make, by the way”.

“I know,” he pouted, holding you somehow tighter against his body. “But last time I was too horny to go get a condom”.

You snorted. “Nothing we haven’t done before. We just tested our luck for the hundredth time and it backfired on us for once”.

Although you weren’t looking at him right then, you knew a pout had just formed on his bottom lip. You tenderly kissed his chest, in hopes of making the sad look on his pretty face go away.

When you felt him be distraught still, you decided to switch the mood a little bit.

“Still, I did have the scare of my life, so we’re going on a sex strike for a bit”.

His mouth fell open in disbelief, pulling you up by your shoulders so he could look you in the eye. “You’re not serious”.

“I am” you stated, trying your best not to allow your lips to break into a smile. “One month at least”.

“At least?!”

“Aren’t you the one who went twenty one whole years without having sex?” You raised a teasing eyebrow. “This should be nothing to you”.

“Petal…” he whined, hiding his face in your neck. “It’s not the same now”.

“Why not?”

“Because I got a taste of it with you two years ago and I can’t control myself around you now, you know it”.

“Sucks to be you” you shrugged. “One month starting today”.

Letting out a defeated cry that could only have you finally releasing the laugh you managed to hold for so long, he rested his head back against the couch.

“Can this month end already”.

“So you’re just accepting your fate?” You were the one in disbelief now. “You won’t even try to convince me otherwise?”

“No, it’s up to you” he said, closing his eyes as he threw an arm over them. “If you don’t want me to touch you then I’ll just keep my hands to myself and suffer in silence”.

You half cooed, half laughed, not having expected such a touching answer to your playful question. Then again, it was Jeongguk the one you were dating; you should know better by now.

Removing his arm from his face, you pressed a brief kiss on his nose. “I love you, bun” you ran your fingers through his hair. “As if I’d be able to go a whole month without jumping your bones”.

“Now don’t say it like that” he laughed, throwing one of his legs over your body and making you lie on your sides now.

Properly face to face now, you cupped his cheek and gently caressed it as you rested your forehead on his. “Give me two weeks tops to shake the fear off my body?”

He nodded, lovingly bumping his nose on yours. “As long as you need me to”.

#bts #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #kpop #kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts reactions #jungkook reactions #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #jungkook #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts angst #jungkook angst

[awniie]

ANGEL !! ㅤㅤㅤ⭑

summary: how ‘toru treats his precious little angel !! ㅤㅤㅤ⭑

content: fem!reader, dacrophilia, cum denial, mean toru, sorta proof read, fingering, smut written while half awake (sorry if something doesn’t make sense!)

note: I’m growing some sorta feelings for this man..

“Look at this pretty little pussy, all wet..just f’me,” Satoru hummed while tapping the tip of his fat cock against your pulsing entrance. He was right, you were really wet, slick dribbling from your pretty cunny to your ass.

You were laid out on your back, eyes blinking away at the tears that pricked them.

‘toruuuu’ you drawled, calling out for the white-haired who was currently teasing your hole. There was no response for a good minute before a low voice answered. “Yess baby?” Satoru didn’t even look at you, too entranced by your cunt to make eye contact. He always got so lost during sex, as if your pussy made him intoxicated to the point where his senses went dull, and the part of him that was fully aware was the his dick.

You opened your mouth to speak, probably to whine about how he wouldn’t stop teasing with you, but your words ran dry as you felt the familiar sensation of pale fingers playing with your overstimulated clit. Instead of scratching complainhitive words, pitiful sobs escaped your lips and you heard his indiscreet snicker. Your body tensed as he built up the pleasure in your clit, a strangled symphony of your moans left your throat in abundance. It was too much, the pressure of his cock aswell as the ministrations of his fingers, you could barely think about anything else. The better it felt, the farther gone you were in your mind. “you gonna cum f’me angel?” he asked, as if he didn’t already know the answer. He just wanted to hear the sex-drunken taint in your voice just before you let go. “y-yes ‘toru! g’nna cum!” You whimpered , bucking your hips wildly as his fingers quickened their caresses on your clit. He let out a little amused hum, giving your bundle of nerves a little more love before pulling them away.

“T-toru!” you cried, dumbstruck n disappointed . The overwhelming pleasure you had just experienced, the pleasure that was so intense that you could grab it, had dissipated just like that. The burn of a ruin orgasm seared between your legs, as well as the burn of embarrassment that seared your mind. “W-why’d you stop...?” you sniffled as your pussy was still twitching and soaking the bed with your cum. Satoru gave you a little smile, still prodding your cunt with his slick-coated fingers. “Didn’t want you to cum yet angel. Patience, yeah?”

Patience your ass. You knew you too well to believe that faux-innocent bullshit that seaped out of his honeymouth. Satoru liked the power he had over you, more than liked, loved it. He loved how you got so dumb to the point where you couldn’t speak, except for the little babbles and murmurs that slipped out. How’d desperate you got just so you could finally cum. He relished in it, but you weren’t as big of a fan of it as he was.

After what seemed like hours of begging and pleading for him just to properly fuck you, he finally gave into your lust-tainted mewls and started pumping his pre-coated length . But just when you thought you’d finally get to cum, he continued to tease your overstimmed cunny with his dick instead, again.

“please, stop teasin’ me.” You mumured. Your head started to hurt with how bad you needed to cum. He ignored your pleas, dragging his mushroom tip across your slit, still with that stupid smirk of his. So with whatever reasonability you had that remained, you your own trembling hand and trying to grab hold of his cock. He let out a groan at the way your hands flexed over his He watched in amusement as you tried to put in your cunt, swiping your hand away chuckling at your frustrated whimpers.

“I wanna hear you ask for it, angel. Ask ‘toru to fuck you.” He told you. Maybe if you had any more of your senses, you would’ve tried to scrap together some of whatever dignity you had left, but right now all you wanted to do was cum all over his cock.

“please ‘toru..Please fuck me, pleasee. I promise I’ll take it so good.” you whined, nothing more than a whimpering n’ wet mess. Pearls of tears swole and ran down your heated cheeks, your naked body quivered with need and want. Satoru couldn’t help but let out a little laugh at your fucked-out state, too far lost in the chase of your own pleasure to care about how pitiful you looked right now. Despite how much he enjoyed your cute little tears and moans, He’d choose to be merciful. He’d do anything for his pretty little angel.

“d’awww, Only ‘cus you asked so nicely, yeah?” He cooed, kneading at doughy flesh of your thighs and aligned his pre-covered cock with your hole. “‘Toru’s gonna fuck your precious pussy real good, angel. Does that sound good?” You nodded and let out a high-pitched ‘mhm’. “Yeah, I know it does baby. Dont worry, ‘toru’s got ya.”

“y-yes ‘toru, t’ank you..!” you babbled, squirming at the sudden pressure at your entrance. He slid into you slowly, letting you savor the feeling of finally being full. By the time he reached his hilt, a little bulge had formed at your abdomen.

“f-fuck angel,” he stuttered as pink gummy walls clenched around his length. “your just too precious!

#jjk #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #gojo smut #saturo gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #gojo saturo #jujutsu gojo #jjk x reader smut #jjk fanfic #gojo x you #smut #saturo smut #jjk satoru #satorugojo #jujutsu satoru #jujutsu kaisen satoru #satoru smut #gojou satoru x you #jjk fluff #jjk headcanons #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen

[cranberryjuice-posts]

Sorry for breaking your window to get in here but since where already on the topic of B & E what about Clarisse x Daughter of Hermes where the Hermes Cabin and the boys from the Ares cabin started a prank war with each other and Clarisse is PISSED because she gets getting caught in the crossfire and when reader breaks into the Ares cabin to set up a prank but she accidentally wakes up Clarisse.

- it’s all fun and games -

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! Hermes! Reader

An - i feel like I don’t use AN’s properly but who cares also my ao3 series is almost finished also I cuss way to fucking much I mean damn 😭😭 irl I say fuck every 3 words dude I have a problem

An Pt 2 - I Hope thus is good I’m going through a rough writers block rn

For the entire summer. The entire fucking summer clarisse has been dealing with everyone’s bullshit.

Her brothers had for some reason started a season long war with the Hermes cabin. Probably because over some girl which she honestly found pathetic, even though deep down she would do worse if someone tried shit with you.

So here, clarisse currently found herself looking in shock with her cabin floor covered in Greek fire ash marks. Annoyed she mentally came up with a punishment for later. Deep in thought she hadn’t realized you were behind her for cabin check up.

You let out a soft breath before gently hitting the open door. Clarisse turned around, her face going from anger to flustered.

“Hey” she stumbled slightly on her words.

You shyly waved. “Cabin check?” There was a moment of silence, just enough for you to notice the mess behind her. “I can always lie— I know how my brothers get” you tried to offer a better solution than failing the check.

Acting like she was Un-phased she shook her head. “Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault. Shouldn’t have to cover for them ”

“Well I’m just trying to help” You chuckled, the gap between you closing quickly.

As much as clasisse complained about the summer there was still one good part, you. Flirting at every bonfire turned into spending free time together which eventually lead to you both kissing at the end of last night. “I guess I’ll see you tonight then?”

“Yeah” she shrugged. It was cute how she tried to play off her embarrassment. Reaching out you fixed clarisses necklace, Making it symmetrical on her body. With a sarcastic sigh you looked back at the Greek fire stains before looking back up at her. “I’ll come back in an hour that work for you?”

“Yeah id really appreciate it” she smiled softly.

You wished you were an Aphrodite girl, able to leave a room with beauty and want. Instead you left almost to quickly, embarrassment fueling your steps. By the time you reached the last step your face felt hot, and your body felt fuzzy. She was going to be the death of you.

———

“I’m not doing that” you cocked an eyebrow up as your brothers proposed another prank.

“Just this once” Connor practically begged. Walking past Chris smacked him upside his head, the prank they were trying to get you to do? Sneak into the ares cabin and cover it in silly string. Their reasoning for having you do it was because clarisse wouldn’t kill you.

“If she doesn’t want to do it she doesn’t have to” Chris sighed, taking a seat on his bunk.

Your brothers however couldn’t handle that as an appropriate response. Whispering to each other you saw their faces turn into a devilish grin. “Fine” they started off with false security “You don’t have to do it, but we can always tell Chiron about the secret green plant business you help the Dionysius and Demeter cabin run”

Giving them an agitated look you stood up and snatched the silly string out of their hand. “Fuck you” they always found a reason to black mail you. The trick was starting to get old.

It wasn’t until 12am that you snuck into the ares cabin. Coming in through the window you were a little worried about what a cabin full of war kids would do if someone came in. Looking back one more time to see your brothers giving you a thumbs up from afar.

Calming your nerves you took the first step inside. Silently spraying the string the stale chemical smell hit you like a truck. A few kids tossed and turned, the fear of waking one up made you work faster.

Shoving another empty can into your bag you pulled out the last one. The only section left was clarisses. The section you had been dreading of doing. Silently walking over you caught a glimpse of her drooling in her sleep. You wished your had a camera to capture the rare moment. She was beautiful, even in her most vulnerable state. Snapping out of your thoughts you remembered you had a job to do.

Stepping back with a heavy heart your foot sunk into a loose board, a loud creaking sound filling the room. It was less than a second before you felt a harsh hit to your face and your body on the floor.

Not really paying attention to your surroundings with ringing in your ears. The lights came on and a pair of strong hands grabbed the side of your arms. A few kids were shouting and in the background you could almost make out the front door opening.

Coming back you felt blood trail down your face from your nose and clarisse looking guilty at you. Her hands squeezing your arms as she couldn’t say anything. You groaned and held your head back exhausted.

Being moved to a bed you were barley able to understand what was happening in-front of you. In the background both cabins were yelling at one another, it felt like a fight might break out. Clarisse was crouched infront of you trying to asses your now broken nose. You could tell she was starting to loose her patience.

At first you didn’t hear anything. The ringing went away however when clarisse slammed her spear on the ground commanding the attention to her.

“ENOUGH! Everybody who is not my sibling get out now! And to everyone else I want a first aid kit some ice, nectar, ambrosia, and i want this cabin cleaned now!” A strong silence filled the room before the ares kids got to work. If looks could kill the Hermes cabin would had dropped dead. “Whatever you all have going on ends now understand! Im sick and tired of dealing with all of your bullshit and Luke you need to get a better control over your siblings!”

They nodded. Not even Luke wanted to speak, he just whistled his sibling’s out. In less than five minutes you watched as the cabin almost cleaned itself. In less than five minutes clarisse had began gently trying to bandage the broken bone, trying to take some pain away.

Helping feed a bite of ambrosia you felt your nose begin to mend on its own. Though it would still need a week to heal. Letting out a sigh of relief you finally looked up at her, up at Clarisse who was acting like a coward.

“It’s not your fault” you tried.

“I broke your nose, seems like my fault”

“And you thought I was an intruder it’s not the end of the world” you sighed grabbing her hand. It didn’t matter who was at fault it just came down to how it was handled.

She looked like she wanted to speak but she just couldn’t make the words. “If you really want to make it up to me you can always ask me out on a date” Looking up through your lashes you swore you saw her cheeks turn red.

“Y-yeah I can do that” trying to play it off but it was too late. You giggled slightly, leaning forward to close the gap and softly kiss her. Feel her rough lips against yours.

Her hands found home on your torso, traveling up and down while pulling you closer in an attempt to deepen it. Breaking away only for a moment clarisse looked over at her siblings who some stopped cleaning.

Barking orders at them to continue she looked back with a sarcastic expression making you laugh.

Laying down beside her on the small bed you looked deep into her eyes, not wanting to say a word. It felt like every emotion you two had felt for one another was known.

Giving her another soft kiss you tucked your head away into her neck. It didn’t take long to fall asleep and shockingly for the ares cabin, when the lights were out and everyone was asleep there was a peaceful quiet. One that comforted and lulled a person into a deep sleep.

#lesbian #wlw #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #clarisse larue #clarisse my beloved #percy jackson show #pjo fandom #clarisse x female reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you

[frmisnow]

For the february filth fest!! I have some ideass<3

#cnc, breeding with Jungkook

#daddy's pet Or roleplay with seongcheol

Also I love your posts 🦾😭

FEBRUARY FILTH FEST | 💭 cheol + daddy's pet ! (MIX OF A LIL TRACK 10=hate fucking + TRACK 21=overstimulation) - (MDNI !!)

— ‧₊˚ — ♟️ : "all the jewelry that's your fucking leash, i can always pull you back on.” ??

notes. AAAAH thank you for reading my shit, asking and the sweet cmt <3<3 is it febuary yet? No. Do i wanna let anon down? No. Is it rly fawking fun? Yeah, so it's coming out today. 😝 if you're looking for more pet play with cheol: GOOD GIRL I TRAINED YOU TO BE. by me, is perfect for it 2!!

warnings/includes. (NSFW) mean dom! seungcheol x f! reader, hints at reader using cheol for money + trying to run away from him ? (i needed a reason to get him REAL mad sooo), spanking, degrading, overstimulation, unprotected sex, a drabble so we're skipping RIGHT to it

"it's okay, i love you even though you're fucking greedy," the tone grunted out almost mocking, thick cock ramming in and out of you, veiny big hands occasionally landing on your reddened ass, "i love you even though you wanna take everything from me"

slowing down for just a minute like studying your messed up face, "that's right, i'm buying out your pussy" till speeding up once more, pounding into you furiously, "you don't think i know exactly what country you think of running of to? you don't think i have people, ready to catch you and return you to your rightful place, sitting right on my lap?"

whenever you tried looking away from his demanding gaze (which was definitely trying to eat you alive), he'd force you to look at him, making you feel pathetic, incredibly small + irrelevant - "why couldn't you just be my good pet? no, you had to be fucking greedy, you could've just asked me, i could've given you the fucking money cause you now what? it doesn't fucking matter to me"

you didn't know if you even heard him anymore, the sounds of wet fast pounding echoiching through your ears and brain as your own body betrayed you, pushing itself forward, yearning almost like aching to him which he'd just meanly laugh at, "it's okay, y'know tommorow when your legs don't work, when you can't even fucking walk, y'know who's gonna be taking care of you? cause you don't know what to do without my damn instructions, don't you?"

it was an endless cycle, of loads and loads of cum, to the point where you could feel it everywhere on your body and him riding out every orgasm, shamelessly continuing after, the flesh on your ass feeling so sensitive and raw that it almost hurt.

"all the jewelry that's your fucking leash, i can always pull you back on cause you're my pet, you need me to feed you, take care of you, fuckin-" he cut of himself groaning when your pussy clenched around him out of sheer response, "breed you, you fucking need me"

#kpop smut #choi seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #seventeen seungcheol #svt smut #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen smut #svt imagines #scoups x reader #scoups smut #scoups imagines #scoups fanfic #scoups x you #scoups x y/n #joongfryefff24 #🗯 - mae asks!

[angel-of-the-moons]

Eccentricities

Yandere! Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Dark Themes, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Yandere!Miguel is a warning on his own, spying, peeping, camera use, masturbation (m)

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Enjoy my brain rot I now infect you all I'm so sorry it took me so long to finish

Taglist: @vineberries9 @irmiki @autismsupermusicalassassin @obi-mom-kenobi @rin-matsuoka345-blog @loosecan @6thhokageswife @selarus @heyohalie @sapphire-and-ruby @night-spectrum @famouscattale @thespaceinbetweennothing @lazy-idate @toshimoshiko @saharadesertaj @flaps200 @amelialysm @fried-milkfish @zaunsin

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Pt. 1

You weren't sure if it was your luck, or your resume that landed you probably the easiest, most well-paying job you've ever worked. But man, were you glad whatever did get it, got it for you.

Little did you know, it was neither.

The truth is... your boss, Miguel O'Hara, noticed when you emailed it to him. Something about the pictures attached stirred something up inside him.

Maybe it was the soft, Mona Lisa-like smile in your photos, or maybe it was something else entirely. He himself didn't know it, the reason why you immediately piqued his interest.

Sure, he's hired female employees before, one or two housekeepers. They were always buxom girls looking for the whole "boss having sex with his hot maid" cliché. One even tried to trick him with a false pregnancy test, just for him to call her out with a body scan right then and there.

And yeah... he almost always wound up fucking them. But that was it. They were good, warm holes to fuck, that was all. Fuck them until he got bored with them, and toss them out; that's what he would do.

Hell, some of them weren't even good fucks... He'd had better sex from random women he brought home from clubs.

Thank god for non-disclosure contracts.

But you... He had a feeling you would last longer than all of them. There was something about you.

And whatever it was, when he met you for the first time in person in that tiny café, was absolutely intoxicating. Your scent, your voice, the way your eyelashes batted your cheeks, even the shy shuffle of one foot behind the other as you spoke with him.

He could already imagine himself splitting you open with his cock, right then and there. Making you gasp, and scream and writhe and beg him to show some mercy at how he would pummel that sweet little cunt of yours; showing everyone there that you now belonged to him.

But patience is a virtue, and good things come to those who wait.

And Miguel O'Hara always got what he wanted, in the end.

It was just a matter of waiting.

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"I just have to say that, I... It's very generous of you to offer me a room to stay in, Mr O'Hara." You say as he leads you down the hall.

"I really can't thank you enough."

He sucked in an imperceptible breath at your little smile and twinkling eyes as you rocked your head back to look up at him and meet his red-brown ones.

He flashed a smile, charming. His teeth were crooked in some places, but for some reason it put you a bit at ease. Despite his sheer size, Miguel looked... Normal. Drop dead gorgeous "normal", but still. It made him... more relatable to know someone like him wouldn't immediately run to a dentist to fix his teeth to project an image of perfection. That he wouldn't give in to vain appearances.

"Of course. You don't have to thank me at all." He said, leading you down the hall of his impossibly large house--no, mansion--to where you would be living.

"All my previous maids have been given their own spaces to live in, it's easier on them so they don't have to worry about arriving late, or paying for taxis or finding their own ways to work." He replied casually.

"Oh, actually, I'm curious about that. I haven't seen other staff around here, why is that?" You chirp innocently.

"Ah, well..." He said, giving a strained smile. He had to think of something. Fast. He couldn't possibly tell you the real reasons why. Maybe.

Yet.

"They simply didn't work out. Many of them didn't follow direction well and were constantly challenging my authority."

You frown, your brows furrowed. "Okay, arguing with your boss sounds kind of... Dumb."

"Indeed." He chuckled, his voice a deep timbre that you swear sent shivers right through your very bones.

"And as for why you are currently my own employee? Well. I do like my privacy." He tells you.

God, the smell of your perfume and the way your lips sparkled from that lip gloss...

"Ahem. Technically, the only other person you'll be seeing is Lyla."

"Lyla?" You echoed.

"Yes. She's my... assistant. Artificial intelligence. Don't let her snark fool you, she's not so bad once you get to know her." He smirked.

He could hear your pulse quicken whenever he smiled.

"Oh! An AI? I've... I've never actually met one. Like a literal one, not the ones they program into taxis..."

"No, she's far more sophisticated than that. Expertly programmed by me, smart... And of course there's the sense of humor, I don't know where she got that... But she won't bother you often." He assured you.

"Oh! Of course..."

"Now, here's your room." He gave you a grin over his shoulder as he reached for the control panel of the double doors. He could hear your heart pitter patter already.

The doors opened with a dramatic whoosh, and Miguel stepped aside for you to walk in.

He felt a smug sense of pride at your shock of the huge room he'd given you for your own personal space, and how you'd murmured that it was larger than your whole apartment.

Luxuriously furnished, it looked more like some kind of... Of ten-star hotel room or something!

The way your eyes sparkled and your mouth parted in a soft, excited smile. Everything about you had his heightened senses on alert, but not in a bad way.

You looked so soft. So delicious. Something about you made him want to devour you, bit by tiny bit.

"Mr. O'Hara, I... Oh I can't thank you enough! This is..."

"I'll leave you to it." He chuckled, giving a wave as he walked past you back out into the hall.

Pausing in the doorway, he gave you one last look.

"And you can call me Miguel... Pequeña ave."

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He simply couldn't wait and had to violently suppress the urge to drop to all fours and leap like an animal to his office and check the well-hidden, practically invisible cameras he had planted in your room and bathroom.

The moment he entered his office, he locked the door and turned Lyla's access to the room off to leave him to his privacy in case she called him.

Miguel felt a buzzing beneath his skin at the thought of what you could possibly do once you've fallen into a sense of safety and privacy, especially since he'd given you permission to have a few days to become acclimated to your new environment before you had to start work.

He sat on his chair and immediately opened up the files on his monitor, selecting the camera feeds until holograms of you at various angles were projected for him to see.

He watched intently as you unpacked your clothes, placing them in the large ornate dresser.

He already made a mental note to hire movers to bring the rest of your meager belongings to his house.

Yes. Yes.

You would stay.

For as long as he wanted you. And right now he could see himself wanting you for a very, very long time.

The moment you flopped on the bed, your breasts jiggling so beautifully to him, the cute look of surprise as you sunk so deep into the downy mattress before settling in with a relaxed groan that sounded so pornographic to his ears it sent blood rushing straight to his dick.

He leaned back, running his tongue over his fangs as he continued to watch you unwind and unpack, careful not to prick the sensitive muscle on the sharp bone.

He watched you pull a small black box out of one of your suitcases and hastily move to hide it beneath your clothes in your dresser.

Bottom row, far left side, all the way to the back. He made a mental note to inspect that drawer later.

Miguel leaned in towards the projections and tapped the one of you nearest to your new closet as you slipped your blouse off and down your shoulders, revealing your back and the straps of your bra.

The leather creaked under his weight as he shifted, switching the angle to the one directly above the closet, facing down, getting a full downward view of your breasts.

He groaned and reached down to palm at his cock that throbbed in his trousers, stroking the clothed flesh in languid motions, vein beating relentlessly along the length.

He let out a guttural groan when you bent over, slipping your shoes off and placing them on the rack within the closet.

He switched angles as you bent over again and pulled your pants off, revealing your cute ass peeking out from the cotton, cherry-print panties you wore.

He ripped his trousers down to his thighs and fisted his cock in his large hand. He was disappointed you didn't notice he went without boxers today, or maybe you had but were too shy to look.

You were putting on quite the show.

Surely, you couldn't be this naive, right? So innocent? You couldn't just believe some rich man would let you, a cute, sexy little thing live in his house without planting cameras in your room and bathroom?

You must know. You must simply know, and that is why you are sashaying your hips this way and that as you dump your clothes into the laundry bin and grab the vinyl bag containing your hygiene products.

He used his thumb to smear the stream of precum leaking viscously from the head of his cock, groaning as he switched the feed to your bathroom cameras.

He watched you place your pads and tampons in one of the drawers of the vanity, organize your oral hygiene products next to the sink. He studied each bottle of vitamins you placed, his eyes picking up the words "prenatal" on one.

He dropped his head back with a groan and rolled his hips, languidly stroking his dick as his eyes rolled back.

Prenatals. You weren't pregnant, he'd be able to smell it if you were. But already the thought of fucking you full of his cum played in his mind.

His head snapped up when he heard the shower turn on and he frantically switched the feed to the shower cam.

He watched and listened as you hummed a little song to yourself, giggling at the rainfall-like streams that filled the stall.

The way your lips parted and you made that little "oooh" sound had him wondering how you'd sound when he fucked you so hard your eyes crossed.

He began to pump his fist harder, the rivulets of precum giving him ample lubrication to stroke himself.

He ran a hand through his hair as he panted, watching you as you slowly slip your bra off and toss it to the floor, along with your panties.

His hand smashed the control after to change the camera to one that had a better angle of you.

He made a sound that was almost a whimper as you closed the stall door, stepping under the steamy water with a happy and content sigh.

Miguel bit at his bottom lip, fangs threatening to prick the plush skin.

Everything about you was cute and sexy, even that cute little patch of hair between your legs, cut into the shape of a heart.

The thought of lasering that hair off and replacing it with a permanent tattoo of his spider symbol... His own little brand...

He moaned loudly into the dark of his office, feeling his balls draw taut as his orgasm got closer.

Your hands lathered in shampoo, you started scrubbing your hair, your flesh jiggling deliciously as you rinse it out, nails scratching at your scalp.

He wondered what you'd do if he pulled your hair, what sounds you'd make.

He wondered how you'd do if he pulled your hair and made you choke on his cock.

"Mierda!" He hissed, pinching the base of his cock in an effort to stave off his orgasm.

Miguel continued to watch, giving himself teasing strokes as you conditioned your hair right after.

His fist pumped harder and faster when you began soaping up your hands to scrub your skin, cupping your breasts and brushing over your hard nipples.

His breathing was so fast he was practically hyperventilating, the tip of his cock leaking more and more, the length of it throbbing and twitching as you washed the soap off.

When you slipped your hands between your legs to clean yourself there, all Miguel could do was moan pornographically, grabbing at his balls and stroking his cock as he arched his hips off his chair, his thick ropes of cum painting his fingers and dripping down to his palm, splattering a part of his leg and the underside of his desk.

He dropped down, sighing as the buzz of his orgasm slowly faded.

He cut the feed to your room.

And in the dark, bright, ruby-red eyes opened and a fanged smile bloomed.

He was going to enjoy making you his.

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Pt. 2: Link

#yandere!miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse

[leosxrealm]

ᴍᴀɴ ɪɴ ʀᴇᴅ

pairing(s): Charles Leclerc x male! Norris! reader

request: Charles Leclerc x m!reader but his older brother is Lando and he always goes to his races and gradually learns about Charles and grows a hatred for him bc he thinks he's just a rich French (Which Charles constantly corrects) guy but he eventually gets to know him so its like an enemies to lovers kind of thing?

warning(s): fluff!! kind of slow burn, long chapter (3k words), mentions of manipulative ex, alcohol, reader is Charles' gay awakening, also reader and Charles didn't have the best first impression of each other

(a/n): reader's age isn't specified so it can be read as whatever age you want reader to be (21+ cause there's alcohol involved). this was requested so long ago oml. hope you enjoy it anon <3

!not proofread!

Bahrain, 2023

"Can't you fucking watch where you're going?"

"Yo. Chill out, mate," You say, a little taken back by the stranger's outburst and even your own response. You throw up your hands in surrender, leaning your body slightly backward as if to tell the guy in the red t-shirt that you didn't mean any harm. 

You didn't intentionally bump into him. Who even does that? Too busy talking to your sister on the phone, you didn't see where you were going. And it looks like he didn't either. It was a mistake made by both of you. Why was he making such a big deal out of it?

"Don't tell me what to do," he lets out through gritted teeth. Turning on his heels, he walks away. 

"What's that dude's problem anyway?" you scoff, your mood turning sour at the strange dude's behavior. "What dude?" your sister asks. 

That took you by surprise, you forgot you were on a phone call with her. "Some French dude I ran into. He was being a bitch for no reason," you grimace, thinking back to the encounter.

"You know who he was?" your sister asks, curiosity getting the best of her. 

"Nah. Couldn't see his face."

You continued talking to your sister for a while, just until your brother was free from some team meeting that he had to attend after the free practice session.

"You have any other plans for the night?" your brother asks, looking up from his phone. He was definitely planning on hitting some bar with his friends. You could take a break, let yourself unwind for a night, you think.

"Not really," you say with a shrug. 

"Good."

---

"Who's that?" you practically shout, trying to be louder than the music playing. "Who?" Daniel shouts back. You point at the man across the room. He was standing next to your brother, talking to him. 

"Oh! That's Charles," Danny answers with a grin. "Lando and him are good friends. I think," he adds as an afterthought. You hum in response, not like he would have heard that over all the noise. You recognize the man now, he is your friend's teammate. "Oh, they're coming here," Danny says, tapping your shoulder. 

"I don't think I've introduced you two yet," is the first thing Lando says when he reaches you. "Y/n this is Charles," you stick out your hand, giving the new guy a 'hey' as well. 

"Charles this is, Y/n." Charles just gives you a nod and a loose handshake, before disappearing somewhere else. You raise your eyebrow at his odd behavior. 

"Don't mind him. He's a sweet guy, he just had a bad practice today," Daniel says from next to you. You simply shrug, it's not like he mattered to you. 

"Anyway," he grins, summoning two shot glasses from god knows where "Who's ready for some good time?" Lando cheers, ready to have some fun. You shake your head at your younger brother, of course, he's ready to party.

"Not you. You're still practically a child," Danny says while side-eyeing Lando. Your brother opens his mouth, ready to give his friend a piece of his mind before being interrupted by you. "He's right, bro," you nod, "You're what? Like 13?" 

Lando was no longer cheering.

---

"Y/n! It's so good to see you mate!" Carlos says, bringing you in for a side hug. "Carlos!" you laugh, reciprocating the hug, "it's been a while." 

"Yeah, mate. You kinda disappeared on us," he laughs, trying to remember when was the last time he saw you in person. "We were going to get lunch. You wanna join?" 

"We?"

"Uhh...There he is," he says after spotting his teammate. "Charles!" he waves his teammate over, "Do you mind if my friend here joins us for lunch?" You look at him puzzled, you hadn't even agreed to it yet. You shake your head, typical Carlos.

"Uh.. yeah no. It's fine."

You just blink at him, not that he would notice cause he was busy typing away on his phone; he didn't even look your way. A little rude, you'd say. 

---

It's a nice Middle Eastern restaurant that Carlos had picked. You and Carlos were busy talking away, reminiscing about the past, and catching up to date on each other's lives as well. Sure, you had seen his Instagram posts, and known what he had been doing, but hearing it from him was still different. Same for him.

A sudden ring disturbs your conversation with Carlos. "Sorry I have to take this," Charles says as he gets up, and exits the restaurant. You raise your brow, a little confused by his behavior. Not just today, but ever since you've met him. You have seen interviews and fan interactions with him, he certainly did not seem like the grumpy type.

"He certainly isn't like the guy they show on television," you comment, sipping on your wine. Carlos sighs, making you look at him. "What?" you raise an eyebrow. 

"He's a good guy... It's just... I don't know..." he pauses, taking a moment to think, "There's something going on with him." He chews the inside of his cheeks, squinting his eyes to look at Charles who was leaning against his car outside the restaurant, still on a call with someone you didn't know. "I heard, he's having some problems with his girlfriend."

"Trouble with his girlfriend?" you ask, taking another sip of your drink. With nothing to do here, you had been getting bored either way. And a little gossip never hurt anyone.

"Yeah. I don't know the details. It's just what I've heard," he sips his drink, "They looked tense around each other too." 

"Mmm..."

Miami, 2023

"Didn't expect to see you here." 

You turn around, your scotch glass still in your hand. "Charles," you were surprised as well. You didn't expect to see the Ferrari driver at some random charity event. "Care for a drink?" you wave to the bartender, not even waiting for his answer.

"Scotch. Neat," he orders. 

He takes a seat beside you, gulping down his drink in one go. "You good, mate?" you ask, a little concerned about the man. "Hm? Yeah. Don't worry." If he wasn't going to tell you himself, you wouldn't push him. After all, you two weren't exactly friends.

You two stuck to each other for the rest of the evening. It was better than walking around alone. During this time, you had gotten to know a bit about each other as well. He wasn't as bad of a guy as you had originally thought. 

"Yeah, she clearly knew he was flirting with her, and instead of telling the guy she had a boyfriend, she was flirting back. Even letting him cling to her."

"Oh..." you take a sip of your water, deciding on no more drinks for the night.

"And when I asked her about this, she called me a "jealous, possessive boyfriend who's taking away her freedom." Her words, not mine." he continues to rant, using air quotes to emphasize his point. He sighs, she had betrayed his trust; even if people wouldn't exactly call this cheating, in Charles' book, it was. 

"It's all good now. I'm over her," he smiles.

"No wonder you were such a piss baby in Bahrain. No offense," you chuckle slightly.

He looks down a little embarrassed, he knows how he acted like an asshole during that time. And not just to you. He would've understood if you would've given him the cold shoulder tonight. But you didn't.

"Yeah... About that-"

"It's all good, mate. No hard feelings," you cut him off. You knew he was sorry about his rude behavior, it was written all over his face.

"You wanna ditch this event?" you ask, a smile growing on your face. He laughs, not expecting such a question after the (one-sided) heart-to-heart conversation that you two just had. He appreciated it nonetheless. If you were trying to lift his mood, it was certainly starting to work.

"And go where?" he asks after a good laugh.

"I know someone who's hosting a party," you shrug. 

"Ditching an event to go to a party?"

"Ditching a boring event to go to a fun party," you correct, grinning at him.

---

"You never said it was gonna be a houseboat party," he shouts over the loud music. "Welcome to Miami!" you laugh.

You grab his elbow, dragging him towards the tiki bar. Ordering two drinks, you push one in his direction. "What's that?" he eyes the drink.

"This," you emphasize, raising your own glass, "is the perfect way to forget about your gaslighting ex-girlfriend." He laughs, appreciating the humor. The both of you chug down your drinks. 

You drag him over to the dance floor, quite practically forcing him to dance. "Come on, mate," you urge him, "If you wanted to be boring you could've stayed at the event." He laughs, finally loosing up. You two continue to dance, having some more drinks in between. 

---

"Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump!..." The chanting continues, daring, challenging you to jump in the water. Charles sneaks up behind you, pushing you into the water. You turn around just before he could, holding onto him, and dragging him in as well.

You submerge, laughing as you do. Charles gasps, still a little surprised, before he laughs as well. He holds on to your shoulder, still heaving. Your shirt that you had worn to the charity event, sticking to your body.

 He eyes you, for longer than he should have. This was new. He doesn't think he had ever been interested in another man's body before. He tears his eyes away, trying to cool down the warmth that suddenly spread throughout his body. 

Your friend, the host, pulls you up, slapping you on the back in the process. You help Charles after, "accidently" pulling him by a little more force than needed. He bumps into you. He doesn't pull away like you half expected him to. He pulls away just slightly enough to see your face. Your hands go to his hips, swaying his body, along with yours, to the beat of the music.

---

The sound of laughter rings out in the surprisingly empty street of Miami. It's a small road, probably that's why. It's well into the early hours of the morning. 

It's media day and Charles knows his manager's gonna hate him when he shows up looking dead, still hungover. He couldn't care less about that now. He hasn't felt this good, this free, in forever. 

He looks to his side, you're walking beside him, one of your hands in your trouser's pocket, the other holding your blazer, a few of your shirt buttons open, slightly exposing your well-built chest and shoulder. 

"I'm so fucking tired oh my god," you laugh, looking up at the sky. Even though you couldn't see the stars because of all the lights, the sky still looked pretty. "Me too," he says, his eyes fixed on you.

"Hm?" you look at him from the corner of your eyes, "something on my face?" 

"Huh? No. Why would you think that?" he clears his throat, averting his eyes. 

"You're staring." The tip of his ears turns red. He can't believe he got caught staring. "Not that I mind." His eyes widened, but he didn't reply. You look at him from the corner of your eyes. Did I make him uncomfortable? you wondered. 

You don't say anything after that as the both of you walk back to your hotel. Charles' room came first. You stood behind him as he unlocks the door. "Wanna come inside?" he asks, turning around, and standing in the doorway. 

You smile, "Can't." He frowns slightly at your vague reply. "I have a flight in a few hours. And I still have to pack and take a shower. I should probably get something to eat as well," you scratch the back of your head, sometimes you get sick of traveling so much. 

His mouth forms an 'O' in understanding. "You're not staying for the Grand Prix?"

"I have yet another event I have to attend," you sigh, "and this one... I can't skip."

You start walking backward, not ready to turn your back on him yet. With both of your busy schedules, you don't know when you will be able to see him next. 

"I'll see you around, Charlie," you give a short wave, turning your back on him, and going to the elevator. Charles watches you leave, till he can't see you any longer. He looks down, a smile gracing his face. You had started calling him that at the party, he had thought it was because you were drunk, but apparently not.

It was truly a night he wouldn't be able to forget.

Silverstone, 2023

Charles has been on the lookout for you ever since he arrived here. It was Lando's home race, and he was hoping you would be there as well. It's Friday when he hears from Carlos that you're in the paddock. Supporting Mclaren, obviously. 

Carlos and you are good friends, right? Would that be enough for you to drop by the Ferrari garage? And you do. You stop by the Ferrari garage to say hi to Carlos, or at least that's what Charles thinks. 

You've been talking to Carlos since you arrived. A different thought inhabits his mind. Do you remember him? Was he even worth remembering?

He doesn't want to find the answers to his own thoughts that are going wild. He doesn't think he can handle you saying that you don't remember him. That night, as simple as it was, meant a lot to him. He doesn't think he can handle the person he's been searching for, ever since that day two months ago, to say that they don't remember him.

"Y/n, I hope you remember my teammate, Charles."

Carlos' voice rings through his ears. He looks up to see Carlos and you walking over to him. You nod, glancing in his direction. Carlos looks behind you to see his engineer motioning him over. "I'll see you later, mate. It seems they need me."

"Charlie," you grin. A sudden warmth spreads throughout his face and body. It's been so long, far too long since he had heard your voice. "Y/n."

"Walk with me," you say to him, quiet enough that even he was barely able to hear it. He walks beside you wordlessly. "How you been, Charlie?" there it was, that nickname again. "Uhh... I've been good. Barely gotten any time to myself after having races back to back."

You nod in understanding. Athletes really do have a tough schedule, don't they? You walk around the paddock, running into a couple of people on the way, who were very surprised, to say the least, at your unexpected friendship with the Monégasque. 

You talk about things, completely unrelated to either of your lives, just enjoying each other's presence. In a people full of paddock, there were only you two. 

As much as Charles loves racing, he wishes he had a little more time before he had to go for the free practice. "Charlies," you call out, making the Ferrari driver stop in his tracks. He turns around, a confused look on his face. "Dinner tonight? On me."

It felt like his face was on fire. Were you asking him out on a date? No, he shouldn't get his hopes up. You're friends with half the grid, maybe they're invited as well. He nods, his face the same color as his car. 

"Great," a grin spreads on your face, "I'll see you tonight." 

---

Charles was trying to tie a tie when he heard knocks on his room's door. He rushes around the hotel room to get to the door. "Y/n..." he trails off taking in your outfit. You looked... expensive. All his previous worries of over-dressing were gone. Now, he was worried that he was under-dressed. 

"Charlie," you greet him. Your eyes land on his messily done tie. "Having troubles?" Charles looks down, following your eyes. "Uhmm..." he clears his throat, a little embarrassed that he couldn't even tie a tie. 

You laugh, following him into his room. "Lemme see," you gesture for him to come closer. He does. He steps a little closer, not too close; he tries to respect your boundaries. You pull him closer by his tie, careful enough to not hurt him.

"How am I supposed to help you with it if you're gonna stand so far away?" you murmur, your hands working on his tie. "There," you smile, "all done." You don't step back. Neither does he.

He looks down, the tips of your shoes are almost touching his. That's how close you're standing. "Should I wear something else?" he questions, "I feel under-dressed."

"You're not. You look perfect," you grin at him, "Trust me, Charlie."

---

You open the passenger side for him to get out. It feels a little weird, Charles thinks, he has always been the one to hold open the gates for people, his dates specifically. He was raised to be a gentleman. It felt different for someone to open the hold the gate for him. 

He thanks you as he gets out of your car. You had insisted to pick him up. The both of you walk towards the restaurant. Charles heaves out a sigh of relief, there's no paparazzi around, at least he could enjoy the night peacefully with you.

"Reservation for two. Under Norris." 

Reservation for two? he gulps. He's happy to be able to spend time with you alone, without other people butting in, but he's also nervous at the same time because you two are alone. 

The both of you are led to a table. He walks behind you silently. The butterflies filled his stomach. Since when did he get so nervous on first dates? Was this even a date? He frowns ever so slightly, he hopes it is.

The conversation flows freely between you two. No cameras flashing in your faces, no people there to recognize you two. It was more peaceful compared to your night spent in Miami. 

Like all good things, the night had to come to an end as well. You find yourself standing in front of his hotel room once again. "Want to come inside?" He hopes this time, your answer would be yes. 

It was.

(a/n): was this close to adding surprise angst once again 🤏🏼 uh and i won’t be making a part two for this. i felt like the ending was perfect so i left it as it was. if you have any drabble ideas with this pairing don’t hesitate to send that in!! hope you guys enjoy this :)

HC: Carlos asked for all the details later when he found out about your veryyyyyy unexpected friendship with Charles

#this was fun to write #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x male reader #formula 1 x male reader #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x male reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris #carlos sainz

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

We can have Andrew and Ashley (separately) dating reader who is a singer/guitarist in a Punk rock band, who has a somewhat cynical, indifferent personality but is quite kind when you get to know her.

But there is a problem, she is possessed by a demon and needs to kill or drink human blood to survive (just like that movie Jennifer Body feat. Megan Fox)

Friggin love Jennifer’s Body- hell yeah anon!

Ashley and Andrew Graves x Possessed Punk Rock!Reader

Andrew Graves

You met Andrew after he went to watch your band play. He came up to you after the show and started up a conversation with you.

You were the best part of the band in his personal opinion

You’d heard this all before, and like always you went along to get on his good graces

Honestly- you had full intention of eating him until he started some playful banter with you

You both just bounced off of each other so well

“Alright, so- it’s the zombie apocalypse and you have to team up with 2 other people at this bar.” Andrew was leaning against the bar, he phrased it like such a serious question, “Who you picking?”

“Hmmmm…” you hummed, turning your attention to the cluster of people, “Probably that guy-“ you nod towards one muscly frat dude chatting with his equally muscular friends, “He looks like he could punch some zombies. Dumb and fearless, ya know?”

Andrew chuckled, “Ahhh, so you’re into beefy dudes, huh?”

You gave him a deadpan stare before rolling your eyes and smirking a little, “Nah, if anything he’d be a sacrifice to the undead horde. I’m more into sickly looking emo dudes.”

A small blush painted Andrew’s cheeks, he turned to look at the crowd, “Soooo- does that mean I’m on your apocalypse team?”

“Not in the slightest,” you leant back on the bar stool, “It’s about survival, and no offense hun- but you’re usually the first to die in those kinds of movies.”

Andrew dramatically clutched his chest, giving a faux harmed expression. You playfully shove him to wipe the look off his face. He laughed a little as he sat back up in his stool.

“Alright, alright-“ you wave your hand towards him, “You can join my apocalypse team. We’ll team up to sacrifice the big dude.”

“You’re too kind.”

He was fun to talk to, what can ya say?

You ended up feasting on that frat bro after Andrew left- but not without giving you his number

You two hung out a bit after that- and Andrew became a regular at your shows

You even started inviting him to rehearsals to sit and watch

You make him a shirt with the band’s name on it as a joke- but he wears it constantly.

He’s a dork, but soon enough…he becomes your dork <3

Which is why you were nervous to tell him the truth about you

“….I’m sorry you’re what?”

You winced at his words. There- was no easy way of telling him this, but- you don’t know. It feels like the right thing to inform your partner you’re actually possessed by a demon and crave human flesh and blood.

“I’m possessed by a demon,” You turn away from his, rubbing your arm anxiously, “It- happened when I was 17. Some fucks tried to offer me as a sacrifice to a demon to make them famous and- well, now we know the reason virgins are sacrificed for demon deals.”

Andrew blinked, and a silence fell between you two. He turned away from you, his eyes fixed on the ground,

“….you know my sister is friends with a demon.”

You scrunched up your nose in confusion, turning to give him a look of “What the fuck?”

He held his hands up defensively, “Hey I don’t know! What else was I supposed to say?!”

“I don’t know!” You threw a throw pillow at him, “You’re the first person I’ve told!”

Andrew caught the pillow, placing it gingerly on his lap, “Well- I’m not a stranger to this whole…demon stuff. Can’t say I’ve dated one though…”

Your eyes widened. You looked at him in disbelief, “You- still want to date me?”

“Well- yeah.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t obvious, “You’re not gonna eat me- I’d assume at least.”

“Nah,” you gave him a small smirk, “Not enough meat on ya.”

You received a pillow to the face in response to that. You broke out into soft laughter, Andrew shortly joining in. This…went better than you thought it would.

From then on Andrew helped you with finding food. He’d scan for potential meals at your shows and direct you to them after.

He seems way too experienced in this sort of thing

Ashley Graves

That relatable moment when you’re about to feast on this guy, but this cute goth chick was about to sacrifice him to a whole other demon <3

After a show you had planned on following this couple and devouring them both- you were really hungry

Low and behold- the girl led her date into the woods and summoned a whole ass demon to take his soul

She noticed your presence as she was getting ready to move the body and-

“….sup.”

She said that as if trying to move the soulless body of a grown ass man in the middle of the woods was the most normal thing in the world. You were- dumbfounded honestly. Apparently you were staring for too long, as the woman dropped the corpse’s arms and crossed her own,

“You gonna scream- or are we going to be chill about this?” She tapped her foot as she glared at you, “Don’t make me offer another soul to my friend.”

“Ha! Good luck with that-“ you stepped out of the bushes, shaking off any leaves that stuck to your pants, “Your friend would just be confused why you’re offering them their own kind.”

She looked you up and down, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Yeah- look. I’m possessed- and I was following you and that boy toy of yours to have some dinner.” You pointed to the corpse between you two, “So I’ll do you a favor and get rid of this body for you.”

The woman rubbed her chin, looking down at the body. She then grinned deviously, “Hmmm…you mind if I join you?”

Your eyes widened. Was- she being serious? Did she want to chow down on this guy with you?

Apparently she could notice your confusion and shrugged, “Well I was going to eat him anyway. Was thinking of grilling him- some salt, oregano, paprika as seasoning. Help me carry him and you’ve got yourself a 5 star meal.”

This has to be the most insane woman you’ve ever met. Is this what love feels like?

“Sure thing-“ you reach down, hoisting the man’s arm around your shoulder, “Names Y/N.”

“Ashley Graves.” Ashley made no effort to help you carry the body, just leading you along as your struggled.

And thus started a beautiful friendship!

Ashley sacrifices a soul, you two eat the soulless body. Win-Win!

As you hang out more outside of your hunts, Ashley learns about your band

She’s not happy that you have friends outside of her, but she goes to your show anyway

She claimed that everyone sucked except for you

“We should just eat them,” Ashley suggested, her chin rested on your shoulder.

You glance at her before speaking, “No can do- I’m not eating my band mates.”

“Fine-“ she huffed, shoving you away from her, “Then I will!”

“Ashley- No-“ you groan, turning around to look at the currently pouting woman, “Look, I have a life outside of you ya know- don’t like it, don’t come to the shows. Nothing wrong with keeping things professional between us.”

Ashley went quiet at that. She hugged herself, turning away from you.

“…what if I don’t want to be professional?” She muttered, just loud enough for you to catch.

You blinked down at her, “You- what?”

“We get each other! I want to keep doing this, and I don’t want those ‘bandmates’ getting in the way.” She glared up at you, “You…You like me too, right?”

You did. You’d be lying if you didn’t find her general unhinged-ness hot, but you couldn’t kill your band.

“Hey, look-“ your voice went soft as you took Ashley’s hands into your own, “I…like you too Ashley, but we’re not eating my band. If I’ve been ignoring you for them, I’ll- cancel rehearsal tomorrow so we can go do something. Just us. Sound good?”

A small smile formed on Ashley’s face as she nodded, “Yeah…that’d be great.”

You may be the possessed one here, but Ashley Graves is a whole other level

#the coffin of andy and leyley #ashley graves #andrew graves #andrew graves x reader #ashley graves x reader #x reader

[judasgot-it]

String Me By My Sins, So I Can Be Clean

Scenario: You found out. Yandere!Fyodor x Reader. Part 1 Word count: 1.2 K @ceramic-raven because you encouraged me to write a part 2. I hope you don't mind being tagged <3

Sitting in your small bathroom, you stared at a small patch that stared back at you.

21 mg. Nicotine. A beige-colored patch.

Just a minute ago, it had been adhered to your skin while you were sleeping, as if you had put it on yourself.

You don't smoke. You never smoked.

The only person you knew to smoke was Nikolai or Fukuchi, but you didn't know them to use patches. They only smoked socially, on good days when they could people watch or when Nikolai could show off vape tricks.

Fyodor had never dared to touch a cigarette, always claiming it as a hazard to his health. His lungs were probably as weak as the rest of his constitution, so you believed it.

So why the hell was it on your skin?

You wanted to ask him yourself, but he was sleeping.

Was it a good idea to wake him up?

You looked out into the darkness of your shared bed with Fyodor, looking at his sleeping form. His small frame was curled in a pile of blankets, curled against a feather pillow - like the princess and the pea, as you could see that he never looked truly comfortable.

The patch could be left for the morning.

He was smart. It must have had some sort of reasoning, shouldn't it?

Fyodor always found things out with almost no context needed. He could figure out the reason. You trusted him.

-

You had gone back to the bathroom. The patch was missing.

The trash, for once, taken out. In fact, it seemed the whole apartment had been meticulously cleaned.

You remembered that patch stared at you. The pain of removing it from your skin. How hard you had to pull it from your skin.

So where did it fucking go?

"Hey babe!"

You called for Fyodor, knowing that he was most likely working on the same projects that he always was. Whatever it was, he would be able to answer you, right?

There was no response from him this time though. You called again, but you were left with silence.

Padding towards his 'office space' you found that he had his headphones on. Was he busy today and hadn't bothered to tell you beforehand? Usually, he was rather meticulous about that.

Gently, you poked his shoulder, hoping to get his attention.

Fyodor only grunted, giving a sign of recognition. You tried again, hoping he would respond.

"Are you busy? I wanted to talk to you about something that happened last night."

Fyodor turned only slightly, his eyes still facing his screen - absorbed on whatever 'work' was on his screen. Code that you never bothered to learn to understand, that became a source of frustration as it seemed more important now.

"Yeah, what is it?"

Complete disinterest.

"I found like. A nicotine patch, last night. On me. Fyodor, that's weird, right?"

His eyes finally looked at you, although they were only glancing, at best.

"It is. You don't smoke, do you?"

"What?"

You took a moment to look at him. What the hell was he implying by that? He knew you never did. You always rejected them, since he was so sensitive to smells.

"If you do, you can tell me. I won't judge you."

His voice was soft, unjudgemental at the implication of you even having an addiction. You tried to keep calm through you frustration.

"I don't smoke. You know I don't, asshole! It's really weird that it showed up on my body like that, isn't it?"

You hoped he would help you. But he didn't even seem to care about your predicament so far, instead lazily moving typing commands on his keyboard like a sort of wizard.

"It is weird. If neither of us smoke, then how did it get there, hm? Maybe someone is playing a prank on you. Do you have the patch? We can figure out more about it from there."

He had leaned back, as calm about this conversation as anyone could possibly be. You wanted to kill him.

"It was on the bathroom counter when I took it off last night. I can't find it though!"

You couldn't help raising your voice at the end. For some reason, your frustration was building up so easily it was nearly boiling over.

It wasn't fair to take it out on Fyodor. He gave you a look as well, because well, you knew that you were being emotional about this.

It was just weird. Why was this upsetting you so much? You weren't usually upset so quickly like this.

"Sorry. But I'm being serious Fyo."

Trying your best to calm down, you took a deep inhale. Your lungs filled with air, clearing your head, if only a little.

There was still a frustration coursing through your veins, making you want to pull at Fyodor's hair for being so...well, him. Just being himself, right now.

Is he doing it on fucking purpose? Is he trying to piss you off as much as possible?

He's the smartest man you know, this isn't any real detective work. Fyodor knows why you're feeling the way you are. He can clearly tell that this actually happened - that you aren't fucking crazy.

So why is he acting like you are?

"Of course you are. I believe you, sweetheart. But what's the real problem here?"

His tired eyes slowly blinked at you. There was an emotion lurking in there, but you really didn't know how to describe it.

It was gentle, but not kind.

"Well. It was put on me. That means someone is drugging me. It's violating."

"I can see why you feel that way, yes. But maybe it was just an accident? People on the street these days are rather crazy-looney."

Fyodor had the gall to laugh as he said that, finding humor in his own words as he didn't find your plight worth crying over. There was no fret - being drugged was an everyday occurance.

Tomorrow you could be stabbed with heroin and it would just be an everyday occurrence, right? Worse things could happen to you. Maybe you would accidentally inhale deadly amounts of cocaine since this was just normal.

"Oh I can't believe you."

You left the room. At that moment you just wanted to punch Fyodor.

Did he always look that punchable? With his stupid smirk and pale, dead-looking skin. His eyes seemed so dead, with no read smile attached to them.

It was hard to look at him without feeling enraged.

"And where do you think you're going, sunshine?"

"Anywhere! If I have to see you again, I would probably. Oh!"

You made a noise as you kicked the door, rushing to just get out and get away from the source of your anxiety.

It felt natural, running outside and walking - letting the adrenaline in your body take you as far as it would let you.

Where were you going?

A hand on your arm stopped you. You turned around, the calm face that matched the pale skin - his dead purple eyes were smiling, although it made you stop dead in your tracks.

Where were you going?

You didn't have anything besides Fyodor.

"Please. Just leave me alone."

"You're being irrational, my dear. It's embarrassing."

The hold he had on your arm was tight, some hidden strength he carried that you never knew existed. Pulled did nothing, and there were tears pushing against your face as you felt the feeling again -

Trapped.

"Please. Fucking just. Let me go."

Shaking his head, Fyodor pulled you in - his face rested against your forehead, but the pull his hand had on his scalp was anything but gentle.

He was mad. About what?

Why did it always end up this way?

Honestly this can be stand alone, but YAY i finally finished this !!!! To the people who wanted this, I hope you enjoy this cuz this was kinda lot for me idk why.

#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x y/n #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor bsd x reader #yandere bsd #yandere fyodor #yandere x reader #hey fellas ignore the fact this took forever to write btw

[goofyahhcats]

Even Under the Coldest Night

Rating: E Pairing: re4 Leon / gn! afab! Reader Summary: Your relationship with Leon Kennedy has been going well, great actually. Between cute domestic activities and sleepless nights (for more than one reason), you two are the picture-perfect couple. You decide to act on that as Leon is helping you prepare dinner. Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Gn Reader, Afab reader, petnames, p in v, cunnilingus, oral (reader receiving), edging (kinda)

Word Count: 2.2k

A03 link:

Dating Leon has its perks.

For one, anyone who went so far as to look at you funny was sent packing by a rough glare or an equally rough pat on the back. You didn’t mind his protectiveness, although he tended to become mildly jealous. 

He would remind you of that every night as he pressed himself deeper inside of you, his voice low in your ear. His fingers would grip your sides tight, sure to leave bruises.

“I do a better job than him, yeah?” a thrust of his hips, “They could never love you the way I do,” his cock bows inside of you at his own words, “I promise, sweetheart. I’ll always make good on that. No matter-” a whine escapes his lips, “-who it is. Fuck.”

You don’t even have to say anything. He somehow managed to get off on his own talking. Of course, the times you did participate, it had him clenching the bedsheets and screwing his eyes shut. Begging to some higher power to give him the strength not to cum at that very moment.

Your gaze was what did it, looking up or down at him with eyes deep and wide with pure love. Your touch felt searing hot, the slightest squeezes to his thigh had him crossing his legs tightly, praying no one would notice the obvious bulge in his pants.

Leon was a sweet man to be with. Adorable in every little thing he did. Cooking? Cleaning? Fixing little things around the house? Adorable. 

“I’m not adorable,” Leon looked at you with quirked-up eyebrows. He returned his gaze to what he was doing, then smirked to himself, “You are, though.”

You would snort, roll your eyes maybe. Your hands would travel up his arms, slowly at first, and then you were wrapped around each other in a tight embrace. It was a charade the two of you knew and enacted frequently. He would always smile in response, offering to

“Prove it to you, yeah?” 

Every time it ended with you spread open on his lap, facing a mirror. His fingers would dip in and out of your pussy as he kissed along your neck.

“Pretty little thing, aren’t you?” he would assure you, punctuating his statement with a particularly deep thrust of his fingers, soaking them up to the knuckle.

Your whines were the only thing that could be heard in your house those nights. Leon wouldn’t even let himself anywhere near finished until you had come at least twice. 

You had also come to admire his physique. Hardened over his many years of working, fighting crime, and beating the bad guys. Today, the two of you had decided to tackle the task of dinner together. It was going well so far, with no unnecessary distractions. You had other plans, however. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t been home in a while, always seeming to be out on some mission. Maybe it was the warmth in the air from the little fireplace in your living room; Leon had tended to it, nursing the flames and chopping wood outside in the frigid air. Maybe it was the love songs that were playing over the radio. Damn it, you wanted him. You wanted him bad.

You stared at his form. Shamelessly undressing him with your eyes. Big, strong, and fucking attractive. His forearms twisted as he began to knead at a ball of dough for which you were supposed to be preparing a bowl. 

Instead, you just watched as each muscle in his arms and shoulders worked together. Moving, turning, stretching. Leon lifted a hand to swipe his bangs out of his eyes. It was funny, although his outward appearance was rough and strong, his hands were always quite soft. The skin of his fingers were gentle as they meticulously explored your body each night. The pads of his fingers were always tender when they rubbed circles around your clit. 

His hair lay gently over his sharp jawline, curving over his ear all the way up to the crown of his head. The color of wheat, swaying similarly in the air as he rocked back and forth. A quiet tune escaped his lips as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, swinging in time with the song on the radio.

You started off innocent, slinking up behind him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You laced gentle touches along his jawline from behind, threading them through his golden hair as he worked. He smiled, kissing the hand that got too close to his mouth. You continued your work, opting to run your hands down over his chest. You prodded and squeezed at each muscle you found, dragging your fingertips against the sides of his waist. He chuckled, turning you around to face him.

“What are you planning?” he raised his eyebrows, knowingly.

“Nothing,” you blinked innocently.

Leon smirked, running his knuckle along your chin as you stepped closer, pressing your waist against his. Your arms snake around his upper body, dragging him close to you.

“Likely story,” he mused, this time tenderly brushing at your hair.

You lean your head into his touch, looking up at him with gentle eyes, “You’re the worst, you know?” the smile on your face said it all.

He matched your smile, pulling your face against him.

His lips were sweet and soft. You chuckled slightly, remembering how you had begged him to start using chapstick a few weeks prior.

He pulls away and cocks his head to the side, “What, glad I finally started using chapstick?”

You lean up and kiss him again, relishing in the plump softness of his lips. Pulling back slightly so that your faces are centimeters apart, you giggle.

“Damn right I am,”

Leon shakes his head with a smirk gracing his lips. He blinks, his lashes fluttering about in the light from the fire. His deep blue irises sink into yours, his gaze is soft. The corners of his eyes crinkle up a bit after staring for a moment, and he breaks away first with a snicker.

He shakes his head again to rid himself of his shit-eating grin- hardly succeeding. He returned to you, lips hot and heavy. He attacked your lips first, licking at them and kissing you passionately. His fingers slid all around in your hair, gripping at it occasionally. 

You swatted at his hands, mumbling a complaint about the flour from the dough getting in your hair. Leon perked up at that, dutifully turning and washing his hands in the sink. He flicked the water off of his hands and began to wipe them off on his pants. You groan, handing him a dish towel instead. He smiles and dries his hands off, while you roll your eyes. 

He grabs you by the hand and drags you to the couch. He presses you back against it as he continues to kiss your lips. The cushions were warm and inviting, the light from the fireplace giving the room a warm glow. Your lips made smacking noises as your kiss turned heavy. Leon broke away, face awash in a red blush. 

He smiles graciously and begins to lift the hem of your shirt over your head. You help him, raising your arms as he lifts it. He stops halfway up your arms, holding them up above your head with the shirt bundled between them. His strong grip keeps you there for a moment, as he shamelessly stares at your exposed chest. He lets out a low whistle, smirking to himself.

“Doesn’t get old,” he continues to stare, chuckling.

You roll your eyes, slightly embarrassed.

Leon continued to admire you, running his free hand over your chest, groping at you gently. You squirm, but his other hand holds your arms firmly. After a moment, he decides to let your arms go, pulling your shirt completely off of you.

You reach up and unbutton his shirt, which he tosses somewhere on the floor along with your own. Now even, you allow your fingers to run across his chest and stomach. His well-defined chest and stomach were hot underneath your touch, and he stopped you after a few seconds. You begin to grumble in protest, but he shuts you up by dragging your pants downwards. He gently leans downward, gripping one of your thighs and tossing it over his shoulder. The other lay on the couch, he held you spread eagle. 

You shiver at the feeling of the cold air on your clothed pussy. He gently runs a finger over the wet spot on your underwear, satisfied with his work. He looks up at you, warm blue eyes fill your vision as Leon literally rips your underwear in half. 

You make a noise of protest which quickly devolves into a loud moan as Leon licks at you feverishly.  

His tongue can’t seem to decide between dipping inside of you and drawing circles over your clit. He eventually chooses the latter, pressing his fingers gently to your entrance. You whine and buck your hips. 

Leon chuckles, “Easy,” he lays a hand on your stuttering hips as you rock back and forth against his finger. “I know I’m just that irresistible, but you can at least put up a fight,” he smirks, slipping not one, but two of his fingers inside of your warmth. 

You cry out as his tongue returns to your clit, his tongue lapping at it like a puppy would water. He sucks against your mound, and he can feel your pussy clench on his fingers.

You were close, so close. Your mind went blank as you shouted his name, fingers twisting at the warm couch cushions. Leon looked up at you as you squirmed and moaned his name. The firelight flickered over your body. Each curve, lump, and scar basked in an orange glow. A few beads of sweat decorated your skin, shimmering in the light. God, you were beautiful.

Leon’s thoughts were interrupted as you grinded down on his face. His nose catching against your clit. A hot flash of pleasure shoots through your veins.

“Fuck- Leon!” You throw your head back, almost there.

With a devilish grin, he pulls away. You gasp and whine, hips bucking at nothing. Leon leans up towards your face, stroking your cheek soothingly.

“Relax sweetheart, I’ve got something better for you,” You look up at him, the phrase not quite setting in as he unbuckles his pants. His obvious hard-on shone through his boxers. He slid those down his legs too, and his cock bowed upwards; hitting his stomach and smearing it with precum. He straddles your hips, looking down at you.

You stare, reaching out a hand to run along his shaft. That caught Leon off guard. His breath hitches as your fingers circle the tip, gently prodding at him. He suppresses a whine as you stroke gently along his length.

“Fuck,” he breathes heavily. You squeeze at him gently as you stroke. His hips buck forward on instinct, “Hey… unfair,” his voice is strained as your strokes increase in speed.

After a moment he decides he's had enough, pulling away from your hand. He rubs his cock against the entrance of your pussy. He slides in while rubbing tight circles over your clit. You whimper, and Leon begins to thrust into you. He tries to be gentle at first, pressing light kisses against your neck as he starts to pick up speed.

“Fuck,” you moan, “Leon, please. I-” Leon nips at your neck, soothing it with his tongue, “Fuck! I need you… I need you right now,” His thrusts became more erratic. He groans into your ear as his hands find purchase against your waist. He curls over you as his pace fails him. He doesn’t hold his groans back now, fingers returning to your clit. 

Leon abruptly pulls out, shoving his head between your thighs. Your voice chants his name in time with his tongue as he licks at you. He tastes you, he tastes himself, and he sucks at your clit frantically. Your moans become higher pitched, and Leon immediately replaces his mouth with his fingers. His cock slips between your folds once again, you grab him by the back of the head and drag him down. Your lips meet, bumping into one another in your frenzy. You feel your orgasm wash over you, pussy squeezing at Leon’s cock in spurts. 

“Cum for me Leon,” you say through lidded eyes, gazing up at him in post-orgasm bliss.

He whines, actually whines. His fluids paint your insides as he shudders, lowering himself completely on top of you. You stay like this for a while. Hot breath fans over each other’s faces as the light from the fire dies down. You had shifted, sitting up with your head leaning on Leon’s shoulder. He gazed contentedly at the fire, stroking lazy circles into your back.

You practically jump out of your skin at the loud beeping from the fire alarm. Leon quickly scrambles off of the couch, making a beeline for the kitchen.

“You forgot your clothes!” you shout through the house, laughing and gathering your belongings with you.

“Fuck!” Leon’s gruff voice emanates from the kitchen. You enter, met with the sight of a very naked Leon standing over a smoking baking tray. He turns around comedically slow, presenting the charred ashes of what once was a pizza to you.

“I burnt the food.”

#resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #smut #leon kennedy smut #re4r leon #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #fluff #fluff and smut

[lanaslovelyletters]

Anakin is roommates with reader and has an addiction to smoking. Reader tries to help him with it and Anakin decided it’s not enough and wants something stronger. He thinks sex will help.

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐠

Roommate!Anakin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ content (general smut), swearing, mentions of substance abuse (nicotine)

Summary: You’ve never had a great relationship with your roommate… one night you get home late and see him smoking. You remind him that smoking kills and although you hate him, you want to help him… it goes to rather drastic measures.

Word count: 3.2K+

Author’s note: Where did you get this idea??? I love it. Also, there are psychological terms being used here— I’m a Polisci and not a psych student and will be using terms I learned when I took AP Psychology sorry lol. Also, read the prompt as if it should be on the shorter side? So I made it as short as I could, hope it's good enough<3 (Btw this is def not beta read. We die like Padme on the table)

You never really got along with your roommate. He blasted loud music and often came home at odd hours of the night. God, you hated the careless way he lived his life. Hell, you didn’t even know what he did for work. He always paid his part of the rent on time, so you kept him around. Besides, there weren’t many other offers and he was willing to pay half.

On a particular night, you came back from an evening shift at the local mental health clinic. The bag that was lazily slung over your shoulder was dropped to the ground as you walked into the living room. There he was. His lips held a cigarette between them, as he strummed his bass. It was loud and obnoxious.

“Okay, Slipknot, could you turn that down a little?” You let out a heavy sigh and crossed your arms over your chest. He rolled his eyes at you, and took a drag of his cigarette, blowing rings in your face. It caused you to cough and waft it away immediately before you took it out of his mouth and put it out in his ashtray.

“What the hell! That was my last one!” He threw his arms up in the air as the smoke subtly settled in the glass.

“This stuff is a slow death, y’know?” You said with a tone that screamed ‘as a matter of fact’. He was clearly pissed at your actions.

“—and? Does it look like I care?”

“Look, I get that we don’t see eye-to-eye on things, and we’d both rather not be living together… but the only reason I’m willing to live alone without you is if you move out. Not if you die on this fucking carpet.” You clicked your tongue and pointed at the scruffy rug beneath your feet.

“Why do you even care?” He raised an eyebrow and scoffed at you. Yeah… why did you care anyway? The question stumped you for a brief moment before you finally thought of the perfect response.

“Who else is going to pay half the rent? Besides… I don’t want to clean up a cancerous body in my house.” You were still standing there in front of him with arms covering your chest.

“Whatever… I’ll try.” Wait. It was that easy?

“Wait, are you serious?” You were a bit surprised to see him nodding along and agreeing.

“Yeah, I guess. My mother would hate to bury her own son… or whatever…” He trailed off as he stared at the worn cigarette bud in the ashtray.

“I knew you had some sense in there.” You joked as you poked his forehead before leaving for the kitchen to make yourself a late dinner. Anakin followed you like a lost puppy, as you pulled out some fruits and readied a blender. He watched as you cut up the fruits neatly before you added them to the blender.

“Hey so—” he didn’t get to finish, because the blender started going.

“Oh sorry about that. What were you saying?” You stopped the blender for a second.

“What could—” The noise dialed back up again,

“Oh, sorry,” you chuckled and poured the mixture into a bowl with some yoghurt.

“Very funny,” he said with a roll of his eyes as he leaned forward in the barstool he sat in,

“No, but really— how am I supposed to beat the cig cravings?”

“Via Pavlovian psychology, of course.” You gave him a curt smile.

“I’m not a dog.”

“Didn’t say you were. Look, the hypothalamus controls cravings… sex and food mainly. This means— you can try replacing it with chocolate. Maybe carrots?” You mentioned and took a bite of your yoghurt mix.

“Yawn. Don’t like the sound of that.” He rested his face against his palm.

“There’s a thing we do down at the clinic… for alcoholics mainly. We slip something disgusting or nauseating into their drink and they’ll associate drinking with this icky feeling… works like… most of the time… sorta…”  You shrugged and took another bite.

“Right… well there’s just the problem of— I’m not an alcoholic and you also said that only works some of the time,” he said. His elbow dug into the table as it supported his heavy head.

“Why do you smoke anyway?”

“Stress. Smoking calms me down after a long day.” His sigh was heavy and rough.

“Well then, something to destress whilst also eliminating your addiction… I really think something like chocolate would work.” By now, you’d finished your bowl and you put it aside to wash later.

“Yeah… whatever. I guess it’s better than nothing.” He got up from his stool and went straight into his room. Something told you he wouldn’t survive the first week without a cigarette…

A week had gone by fairly quickly and he hadn’t smoked since the night you lectured him. However, he ate chocolate in unreal masses. Even then, as he was sitting on the couch this afternoon, he had bought a pack of cigarettes. Referred to them as ‘emergency cigs’. Just in case. He stared at the packaging, letting his thumb trace over the ‘M’ in ‘Marlboro’. Oh, he was so tempted. Just one drag and he’d feel the relaxation settling in his shoulders and the sounds of birds chirping and children laughing in the streets. Just one won’t hurt. He peeled the plastic film off and opened the lid. He could already feel it against his lips. Just one—

“What the fuck, Anakin.” You came up from behind him and took the pack out of his hands. He groaned as you did so, desperately grasping for it.

“You were doing so great with the chocolate, why the hell did you buy these?!” You spat and hid them in your back pocket.

“The chocolates didn’t work well enough. I need more. I need something better.” He complained and sighed, leaning back on the couch.

“Fine. I’ll go out and buy you some nicotine patches. Just promise me you’ll kick this habit, okay?” You rolled your eyes and went outside to the garbage bins. You threw the brand new pack of cigarettes in there and wheeled it out front.

When you got back inside, Anakin had already left for his room. The two of you had an established set of rules, one of which was to not enter each other's rooms unwarranted. If any of the patients at the clinic taught you anything, it was that addiction was hard to beat. No matter what kind it was. As much as you despised having to live with him, he didn’t deserve to die an early death because of something he couldn’t control.

“Anakin?” You knocked on the door gently, but there was no response.

“Come on, man.” The knocking became a little more frantic, but there was still no answer. 

“Whatever.” You walked away and found your purse before heading back outside to uphold what you said you’d do earlier.

After you got back, you heard him watching something on the TV. It was a car commercial for a new Ford model.

“Catch.” You got in front of the screen and threw him the packs of nicotine patches you’d bought. He peered up at you with lazy eyes and slowly unpacked one. You hadn’t really taken note of it before, but he was fucking hot. His hair was messy and his body was chiselled. He was shirtless and only in a pair of very unforgiving sweatpants.

“Thanks…” he mumbled and stuck a patch on his chest.

“Feel better?”

“Don’t know yet.” You took a seat beside him and cast Netflix to the screen,

“Anything you wanna watch?”

“Nah… I’m good.” He seemed as if he was giving up. He was all sluggish from not having had a cigarette.

“Okay…” you turned off the TV to sit and soak in the uncomfortable silence. Nobody said a word for at least a few minutes before Anakin finally spoke up,

“It feels okay… just… doesn’t beat the real thing.” Your head turned to look at him as he said that. 

“I’ve tried everything, okay? I have tried to help you. For some reason, you always need more. What more could you possibly want?” You sighed and brought your knees to your chest.

“You said… the hyper something? was responsible for sex and food cravings, right?”

“The hypothalamus, yeah. That’s why we tried chocolate.” 

“That’s food… what about… sex?” He took a gander at you with those intoxicating tired and beat eyes.

“Like… jerking off? I mean, maybe?” You shrugged.

“No, sex,” he said, staring right at you.

“Oh… well… knock yourself out, I guess? You have a girlfriend?”

“What about you?” He moved closer, still staring deeply into your eyes. His velvety blue ones captured your very soul with just their existence.

“I’m… um… I don’t have a boyfriend…” you swallowed harshly as he leaned into your neck. His breath hit your ear,

“I’d say that’s pretty convenient, no?” He grinned, letting you feel the electricity surging through your spine. You shuddered before swallowing hard,

“What are you insinuating, Anakin?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I need something better than chocolate. Something better than nicotine patches. I can’t just sleep with random girls every day and hope I won’t get an STD. You are single, and I’m guessing you don’t have any weird illness.” His smirk was evident, even if he was practically buried in your neck.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Anakin.” You sighed but didn’t resist his antics.

“Mmm ‘don’t think so. I have a pretty great plan mapped out in my head.” He began to nibble away at your skin, several sighs escaped your lips as he did so,

“Anakin…”

“Yeah, that’s right. Say my name just like that.” He ravaged your neck now, littering it with bruises and marks. He pulled away briefly and got up from the couch, taking your hand in his as he helped you up. Almost immediately, his lips crashed onto yours. He pushed you up against the cold wall, clawing at your waist,

“Jump.” You did and he grabbed your legs, wrapping them around his waist. He then carried you to his room, where he roughly threw you on the bed. Your breaths were heavy and he swallowed up every single one with his mouth. His tongue massaged yours as his hands massaged your clothed tits.

“Anakin—“

“Ani. Just Ani.” He captured your lips again. He loved those pretty little whimpers and gasps you’d make. It drove him wild. The way your hands were pulling at his hair as your lips desperately reached out for his… It was like a drug.

He pulled off his shirt and helped you get yours off too. You unclasped your bra, and he revelled in the sight. They were fucking perfect in his eyes. The embarrassment on your face as he stared only made him more hungry. He unbuckled his pants, pulled them down and discarded them somewhere in a corner. Shortly after, he got yours off too. Your panties were damp and when his two fingers went to investigate, he just had to point it out to you— essentially mocking you.

“Look who’s getting so worked up when I’ve barely even done anything?” He scoffed. The mocking only worked to turn you on even more, and the face you made gave it away almost immediately. Dumb mistake or was it served on a silver platter?

“Don’t tell me you get off on that,” he snickered and massaged your hips, one hand worked its way further down and ripped your panties off. 

“Hey, those were expensive…” you mumbled, but he didn’t care. The whole house could catch on fire and he wouldn’t give a fuck, because he was here with you. 

“I’ll buy you new ones.” He placed his thumb on your clit, slowly rubbing circles. You clenched the sheets with whatever little power you had left. Even with gestures as small as stroking your sopping cunt, you were at his disposal. Through and through.

As it got more intense, he added a finger, then two then went ahead and added a third— finger fucking you until you went cross-eyed, flicking as hard as he could. Your cries and moans were like music to him. Better than whatever garbage he played anyway.

“All for me? You spoil me, darling.” Fuck, that sent you toppling over the edge, clamping down eagerly on his fingers. With a final moan of his name, he felt your essence coat his fingers. After pulling them out, he licked and sucked them clean,

“You taste fucking heavenly. Better than the chocolate, that’s for sure.” He pulled you by the hips and kneaded them nicely, listening to how you panted like the needy little thing you were. One hand slowly travelled up to take a squeeze at your nipple before travelling back down. His hand grabbed the base of his cock as it rubbed against your sensitive folds. Fuck, he was good, but you were growing impatient. Surely bucking your hips would work?

“Fuck, you’re desperate, aren’t you?” He mocked you and snickered. It was embarrassing. Downright humiliating. Yet you relished in it. Oh, you needed him so bad your ovaries were going to explode.

“Come on… Anakin,” you mewled and arched your back.

“It’s Ani, darling.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead gently, still teasing your needy folds,

“Now, let me hear you again.”

“You’re embarrassing me…” you diverted your gaze and turned her head to the side. It was clear as day to see that your face was completely flushed.

“That’s the point,” he scoffed and grabbed your chin roughly,

“Come on, you can do it, can’t you? Be a good girl, tell me what you want.” Good girl. You folded almost immediately.

“Please… just do it.”

“Come on now, you can do better than that,” he snickered. His relentless teasing just egged you on even more.

“Please, Ani. Please fuck… fuck me,” you sighed with exceptional need, as you arched your back.

“Don’t think I heard that… a little louder?”

“Fuck me, Ani! Fucking take me!” Your desperation was clear in your tone and the way your brows were furrowed. You were pathetic to look at, and oh how he loved it.

“That’s my girl.” He leaned down to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss, as you felt him finally intrude your walls. He swallowed every moan you made and even drowned them with his tongue. His size was unthinkably big. There was one protruding vein in particular. The way your walls clamped around it, allowed you to feel it from its start to its end. He wasn’t completely uncivilized though. He allowed you to adjust to his size before moving even a millimetre. In the meantime, he sucked at your skin, twisted your nipples, and moulded your breasts. By now, there wasn’t one spot on your neck that wasn’t bruised. As these appeared one after the other, the pain from his cock invading your insides slowly mingled with pleasure.

“You can move…” He did exactly that. As if it were a command typed into a computer. He almost pulled all the way out, before slamming himself against your hips roughly and sighing out your name.

“You’re so fucking tight, princess,��� he groaned as he wasted no time bringing your knees up against your chest, as he began to pound into you. His pace wasn’t too fast, but rough enough to earn those ethereal moans of yours.

“Fuck, scream for me. Scream my name. Let the whole block hear you,” he sighed, speeding up his pace, rutting against you like a heathen. It was fucking filthy. He watched as every inch of himself disappeared inside you, massacring your insides with no mercy. Every pant and every moan contributed to his head falling back in pleasure, as he drove his hips vigorously against yours.

“Ani!” His name left your lips repeatedly like a broken record. He was fucking you completely stupid. What day was it? What time was it? What was your own name? Your cock-drunk self had only one thing in mind: Anakin Skywalker.

“Fuck, I’m close!” You panted as he thrust with even greater speed and strength. He was relentless and unforgiving.

“That’s right. Cum for me. Cum on this cock, baby,” he groaned as you started clenching down on him. He was struggling to move with the tightness but didn’t give up that easily. His tip hit your cervix repeatedly and you felt like your guts were being rearranged.

Finally, you couldn’t handle it anymore and you tipped over the edge,

“Ani!” You fell limp, but Anakin was far from done. He pulled out, only to get next to you and pull you into his lap. His face was flushed. His eyes were hooded and his lips parted. His hands were kneading your hips,

“Ride me.” What? You had no means. You were limp and tired from the pounding you just got. Now he’s trying to go for another round? But oh, how you wanted it. You wanted so badly to feel him again. To feel a new angle of him. Quite literally speaking.

With whatever strength you could muster, you slowly sank down on him, taking him by each delicious inch. It was far too much for you though, your arms immediately gave out and you fell on top of him. That was no issue though; he helped you. He grabbed your hips tightly and thrust upwards. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head with pleasure. You’d never been fucked that food before. Anakin let his face get buried in the soft mounds in front of him, as he arched your back for you. He was determined to make you finish for the third time in the evening, before finishing himself.

“Doing so good for me, baby, you’re doing such a good job.” He continued to drag your hips down upon his, but with one hand, he slowly let go and pressed it against your abdomen,

“You feel that? That’s my cock ruining you.” This man… your words were illegible by now. He removed his hand from your stomach and stretched the corner of your mouth with two of his fingers,

“You’re so pathetic like this. Where’s the smartass now?” He was right. He was fucking you into oblivion. You couldn’t even fully comprehend what he was saying anymore. You just whined and moaned at him. Just like the good girl, you were being for him. The overstimulation didn’t help. In fact, you were already getting close again. Your pussy was suffocating him and his drags were getting sloppier and sloppier— until he finally got you to release on top of him. He pulled you for a few more thrusts before pulling you off, having you fall backwards on the bed so that he could paint your stomach white.

The two of you both panted heavily as he fell back. It felt like you were going to pass out from the exhaustion.

“Beats the nicotine and cigarettes,” he sighed with a snicker. His eyes were fixated on the white ceiling above,

“So does tomorrow work too?”

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[chuunai]

hello !! idk if you’ll see this but for the 100 followers celebration, may i please request pm! chuuya + (17) wondering if they deserve you or not + (6) “just look at you, then look at me” ?? maybe it’s like he gets doubts and worries, especially when he sees reader getting interactions with others and considering his job and what it means for the reader? but… um, could it end with fluff, please? also, could it be a fanfic, pretty please? i do apologize if this is way too specific !!

once again, congratulations on 100 followers, you totally deserve it, your writing is absolute heaven !! have a nice day/night/afternoon !!

I love specific people and things no worries and thank you I adore your fanfics too!

✧˚ · . right by you - chuya nakahara

he doesn’t deserve you. not when you’re so good.

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff, unrequited love (supposedly), SFW → minor (barely any) angst with happy ending.

Chuuya Nakahara didn’t deserve you.

Nor the air you breathed, or the space you shared with him at the Port Mafia. He didn’t deserve any of that.

Chuuya had always considered himself an okay person. He killed people, but it was for the sake of Yokohama’s safety—subsequently, your safety. In the eyes of others, he’s a piece of shit through and through (that, he doesn’t deny). But in your eyes, he’s just a guy trying to do what’s best for his subordinates and city. In your eyes, he’s just Chuuya.

It’s a bit odd, honestly.

Having feelings for his subordinate.

It fucked with his mind too.

The Port Mafia was no place for love. Look at Higuchi pining over Akutagawa like a lovesick high schooler—that’s clearly going nowhere. So it’s not like he’d have a chance with you, anyway. Not when you’re so good, too. So, so much better than he ever could be.

Someone like you—who regularly brought cookies to the Mafia’s HQ to ‘boost morale’—didn’t deserve a fake human like him. One who was a vessel of a god. The fake Chuuya Nakahara. No matter how much evidence said he was the real one, he couldn’t believe it. Just look at him, then at you. No, you’re the real human.

And he’s a fucked up mess that also happens to be a murderer.

Great boyfriend material.

In the middle of his self-deprecation, a knock hit his door. Probably Tachihara, that smug bastard. Not like he was doing anything, anyways. Taking one last look at the ceiling of his office, Chuuya called out.

“Yeah yeah, door’s open. Come in.”

Instead of that redhead, it was you.

Shit.

He was sure your shift was over. It was what, eight at night now? You got off right around now, so you had no reason to see him. Yet his cheeks flushed up anyway as a pointless attempt at faking a cough was done to hide the obvious reddening. Mentally cursing himself for for being so childlike with his feelings, he sat up in his chair, pretending to write on a document.

“Need something?”

He’d do it. Just ask. Wait—that’s pathetic.

“No, but the others and I are going out to drink. You wanna come?”

Chuuya perked up immediately, already imagining the taste of red wine sliding down his throat and warming up his body. He loved drinking. Helped to get his mind off his problems—namely, you. His fingers drummed on the wood of his desk, a small hum drifting from his lips as he thought of the potential consequences.

He could get drunk and act stupid in front of you. Or accidentally harass you. Or end up blabbering his head off about Dazai again. Or-

Snapping out of his daze when he saw you awkwardly standing there waiting for his response, he shrugged.

Fuck it. It’d be fine.

“Sure. Usual bar?”

You nodded, fiddling with the hem of your sleeves. You always did that when you were nervous. A small wave of worry washed over him. Did he make you nervous? Shitshitshit. What’d he do?

Standing up, he quickly organized some papers—recent missions and current objectives—into piles on his desk, palms slightly sweaty from the fact that you were watching him. Chuuya didn’t like how he always was a wreck around you. It wasn’t gonna make him good in your eyes, is what he thought. Lord, he wished he knew what would make you like—no, love—him back.

“Let’s go now then, yeah? We can get a head start on the others. Don’t want Tachihara to brag his ass off about being first again.”

He offered a small attempt at a smile, cheeks rosy and all. It was nothing compared to when you smiled, though. Like an angel. His angel. Holy fuck. He’s really gotta stop daydreaming about you when you were in the damn room with him.

Leading the way, he carefully kept to your side throughout the long hallways of the Port Mafia’s HQ, occasionally stopping to discuss a quick matter or two with one of his assistants. When someone bumped into you, he hesitantly placed a hand on your back to keep you steady and remind the other grunts that you were under his protection.

Although that still didn’t stop the dreamy stares at you.

Or the jealousy that Chuuya felt after. He knew that he wasn’t good enough for you, and he respected that. But these guys didn’t. No, they thought they somehow had a chance with you—a living, breathing angel—and that irked him. Shouldn’t they be grateful for just getting to see you? He was, anyway. He’d take all that he could get.

Including this short walk.

Lasting for only three minutes or so, soon you two were out in the chilly night air of the parking lot. You shivered a bit, cheeks and nose turning red and numb from the coldness. Chuuya couldn’t help himself as he nudged you closer to his side to be a bit more warm. Kouyou always said he was a human oven, after all. Walking to his car—nothing too fancy, yet not quite cheap—, like a true gentleman, he opened the door for you to sit in the front passenger seat next to him.

He always drove you to the bars. You always drove him back.

A fair deal, in his opinion.

Starting up the engine, Chuuya sneaked a glance at your profile. Nose tinted with red, cheeks puffy from the cold and eyes staring back at him. Wait. Huh? His face went red. Again. Now the both of you were flushed, and not from the cold.

“Want my coat? You uh, seem pretty cold.”

Please don’t say no, please don’t say no, please don’t-

“Yeah. Please.”

Chuuya shrugged off his black coat, carefully laying it on top of you like a cozy blanket. His hands brushed against your arms as he snugly placed it on you. You looked good under it.

“We’ll warm up with the alcohol later. I know you don’t like whiskey, but a shot should warm you up.”

You made a face, sticking out your tongue and giggling slightly while he started up the car, slowly backing out of his parking spot.

“That’s shit’s nasty, Chuuya-kun. Just like your wine.”

If Chuuya had one complaint about you, it’s that you didn’t like red wine.

“It’s an acquired taste, you brat. If you’d try it out more often, you’d like it.”

His heart warmed up at the sight of your smile, making sure to keep up the banter between you two as he drove to the nearby bar. His fingers twitched, aching to hold yours. To warm you up, too. He didn’t want his coat hugging you. Chuuya wanted to hug you. Was that too creepy? Hopefully not.

Traffic was a shitshow. Both of you agreed that more and more idiots were on the road lately, cursing at the car in-front of you. Thankfully, it didn’t last too long. Ten minutes later and he was pulling into the familiar parking lot of the same bar you two had been going to for a while with the others. A nice small corner bar, retro and one that didn’t mind their eccentricity.

Chuuya didn’t take back his coat from you as you wore it inside.

Ushering you into their usual corner booth, he ordered you two a small drink to start—just a vodka soda. Nothing too much. Although it got him slightly buzzed, a warm feeling calming him down a bit as he sipped. It felt nice. Just the two of you. No rowdy Tachihara. No Higuchi simping over Akutagawa or Gin staring at everyone.

Just you two.

“So uh, when are the others getting here?”

How much time did he have with you alone is what he really meant.

“Oh- let me check real quick. Sorry.”

Chuuya watched as you reached into your purse, grabbing your phone and probably texting Higuchi. A small frown came upon your lips after a minute. Nuh-uh. He’d kill whatever made you frown.

“Eh? Why’re you frowning? We’re drinking, cheer up a bit.”

You looked back at him sheepishly, scooting a bit closer to him.

“Well, apparently Akutagawa got sick so now Gin is taking care of him and Higuchi is worrying so she doesn’t want to come and Tachihara suddenly got busy out of nowhere.”

Yes! Yes yes yes! Just him and you now.

“Sucks. But the two of us are here, right?”

Chuuya was currently praying to God that you’d stay.

“Guess so. Should we order stronger drinks, then? I don’t wanna be sober.”

He now believed in God.

And so you drank. Him with his signature red wine, and you with your preferred drink of choice. Chuuya obviously got drunk first, with the redhead showing signs of intoxication while he got clingy with you. You were equally drunk, and didn’t care that much. So he clung into your arm like a baby while you braided his hair poorly.

“God, your hair is so pretty, Chuuya.”

Ooohh. You called his hair pretty.

“Is the rest of me not pretty?”

He pouted, tugging at your sleeve and resting his head on your shoulder.

“Huh? I didn’t say that. You’re really pretty. Super pretty.”

Wow. He’s super pretty now.

“Well, I think you’re pretty too.”

His face flushed, suddenly realizing what he said as he buried his face in your shoulder, squeezing your arm for reassurance. Why did he say that? Why did he say that!? Stupid alcohol. It made him talk so dumb like this. He didn’t talk like this when the others were around to keep him in check. Shit. Maybe he should’ve have drunk so much.

“You do?”

You looked down at him, fingers momentarily stopping their crafting of his braid.

“Mhm.”

A small shy mumble was all he managed to utter.

“You’re so cute! This is why I like you, y’know.”

His head snapped up immediately. No way in fucking hell were you gonna leave him on a bombshell like that.

“You like me?”

For the second time today, Chuuya was praying to God that you liked him romantically.

“Yep.”

Not helpful.

“But…like a friend? Or uh- romantically.”

Well. He said it. Fuck him. No way you’d like him back.

“Uh.”

Some silence from you.

“I’m not saying.”

Oh yes, yes you fucking were gonna say.

“C’mon, tell me. Pleaseeee?”

Puppy eyed Chuuya. He used this to get out of trouble with Kouyou. Surely, it’d work on you?

“Fine. You’re a bitch, but jesus, I like you romantically.”

Chuuya Nakahara was sure he was at Heaven now. No way you—his angel—just confessed to him. Albeit drunk. But still a confession. One of his hands slowly crept onto yours, lacing your fingers together. He was in bliss, basking in your warmth and ignoring the other rowdy patrons of the bar. You just confessed to him. You like him back.

You like him back.

When he finally got back to his senses and opened his mouth to say that he liked—no, loved—you too, his ears picked up on a small snore from you. Did you seriously fall asleep? You had done it before during previous get togethers, but now? A small smile crept onto his face. Whatever. It didn’t matter. He’d tell you tomorrow.

He’d confess back, take you on a date and prove his worth to you.

Because maybe Chuuya Nakahara could learn how to love like you.

Just maybe.

taglist: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts

#bungou gay dogs #bungou stray dogs #aspiring writer #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuunai #fanfic #fem reader #bungo stray dogs chuuya #chuuya #chuuya supremacy #chuuyabsd #chuuya headcanons #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bungou stray dogs chuuya #writing event #kinda shitty #ngl I hate this but it’s Chuuya

[obsessedasusual]

History Repeats - Happy Lowman

Summary: xReader - The club going into lockdown shouldn't be of concern to you anymore, you got out. Happy thinks otherwise.

Warnings: Swearing, guns, mentions of anxiety

Note: 2k - return of the Happy!!! The way I've had this half written in my docs for over a year...... I'm beyond excited to finally get it out!

You had locked the door last night.

You had.

Surely you had locked it. You always locked it.

So the only reasonable explanation to the creaking floorboards down your hallway at 6am was… a cat? Yeah, a cat.

A very heavy cat that took large footsteps towards your room.

You gripped the bedsheets tighter as you pulled them further over your face, hoping they would act as some sort of a shield when the large cat, presumably walking on two legs, inevitably barged into your room. 

Another shaky breath escaped your body as you listened to the footsteps draw nearer.

Calling the cops was a bit difficult when your phone was charging over the room on your dresser. And it’s not like you had a weapon handy. God you could hear his voice clear as day in your head, knowing exactly what he’d say if he were here. Harping on about how you should at least have a knife stashed somewhere in your bedroom and a gun in every other room of the house.

You stayed frozen in place, eyes squeezing shut as the door handle turned, and the door was thrown open without an ounce of care.

“Get the fuck up.” a gruff voice spoke from the doorway.

What the?

You tugged the covers down to your chin and peered across the room in disbelief, “What the fuck, Happy?!”

He gave a single nod before speaking again, “Up. Now.”

Mouth hung open, you could do nothing but stare up at your ex.

“No? No- what the hell are you doing here, Happy? In my house at six in the fucking morning!” Pushing yourself to sit up in bed you continued to stare at the man you hadn’t spoken to in months, “Seriously, Happy. Start speaking. How the hell did you get in here anyway? If you broke a fucking window I swear to-”

“You need to hide your spare key better. Now get up.”

A silence fell between you for a second.

“My spare ke- hey!” your train of thought was interrupted by the tall biker walking forward and ripping the duvet away from your body. In your surprise you didn’t miss the way his eyes quickly flew down your pyjama-clad body before looking toward the still-closed curtains.

“Get your ass out of bed.”

This time you listened and climbed out of bed, stomping toward your dresser to find a change of clothes, “Seriously, Happy,” you huffed as you changed shirts, “You can’t- you can’t barge into my house like this. I thought you were a burglar or something. Do you realise how unsettling that is for a single woman?”

“Good thing I’m not a fucking burglar then.”

You tugged on a pair of jeans and rolled your eyes before turning to face him, “Why are you here, Happy? Seriously?”

He met your gaze only briefly before turning back to the windows and peeping out the curtain, “I need you to pack a bag. Change of clothes. Book probably too.”

Eyebrows pulling together in confusion you stared at the back of his head, “A book? Happy. What’s going on?”

“Club’s on lockdown.”

Your confusion only grew, “A lockdown? Jesus, Happy,” you dragged your hands over your face. “What does that have to do with me? Why do I have to get dragged away too.”

He turned and met your eyes properly then, “You know why.”

Breaking his stare you faced the carpet, “Happy… this is… fucking dumb. What the fuck happened? We have been done since months ago. I’m in no danger. In fact - I’m probably in more danger with you here.”

“I’m not arguing with you. Pack a bag. We’re going.”

This wasn’t supposed to be how your Saturday went. You had left these sorts of Saturdays in the past. The uncertainty, the danger, all of it had been left the day you left the man currently standing in your bedroom seven months ago.

With only a defeated sigh in response you shrugged, counting your losses and turned back to your drawers, pulling out a couple of changes of clothes and stuffing them into a nearby backpack.

When you turned back toward Happy you found him already staring your way. Quickly breaking eye contact you dramatically gestured out the bedroom door, “After you.”

He stared for a moment longer before moving out the door, you following diligently.

“Okay,” you started as you reached the front door, “I’ll meet you there.”

The speed at which Happy spun around to face you would almost be comical if it wasn’t for the death glare that graced his face, “Like hell. You’re coming with me.”

You threw your hands up in frustration, “Happy, c’mon! You’re being ridiculous.”

“You’re coming with me.”

Taking a deep breath to stop whatever snarky remark that was about to escape your lips you nodded, “Fine. Whatever. Can I at least have breakfast before we go?”

“There’s food at the club. Let’s go.” WIthout another word he was out the door and striding toward his bike, leaving you to lock the door and tuck your key - both keys - away in the backpack. Following after the biker you grabbed the helmet from his outstretched hand and tugged it on.

You jumped in fright when the Harley roared to life, catching the way Happy’s shoulders jostled as he chuckled.

Sighing heavily at the situation you were faced with you begrudgingly climbed on behind your ex and secured your hands on his waist.

“You good?” he grunted over his shoulder.

“Just go.”

The wind rushing at you as Happy took off down the street felt like a thousand memories you had fought to forget just slapping you in the face all at once.

The smell of being on the Harley was something you hadn’t realised you’d come to miss. Was it the smell of the rubber? The fumes from the exhaust? The scent of the man in front of you?

No, it was definitely the fumes from the exhaust.

-

Pulling into the Teller Morrow lot was when the weight of what was happening really set in.

More bikes than usual were lined up at the ready, people with children were piling out of cars, sleeping bags in hand, and food was being unloaded left and right, with guns being handled ‘discreetly’ by the Sons.

It had been many months since you had stepped foot near the club. And just as many since you’d spoken to any of the Sons. Well, bar Juice who you’d seen at the store a few weeks back. To say you were nervous would be an understatement. 

As Happy slowed to a stop, signalling for you to jump off before he backed his bike in line with the others, you swore you could feel a million eyes on you. It was as if everyone on the property was staring at you. 

This wasn’t the case of course. With the feeling of danger and caution in the air everyone was worried about their own loved ones and whatever job they’d been given. Truth be told, you didn’t recognise a lot of the faces around you. So they sure as hell wouldn’t know you from a bar of soap.

Still, no matter the case, the anxiety pooled in your stomach.

Anxiety had always been present in your life. Making itself known first in high school and popping up every now and then when it felt like messing with you.

Happy seemed to pick up on your switch in mood, from angry to anxious and lightly spoke from behind, “Everybody’s busy doing their own thing. You don’t need to stop and talk, just head to the back rooms.”

You nodded at his words, eyes still locked on the scenes unfolding in front of you. You didn’t move until you felt the tattooed man nudge you slightly.

Sticking close to Happy, as much as you’d love to run in the opposite direction, you slowly made your way into the hectic clubhouse. 

It was like stepping back in time, you’d done this exact thing multiple times with Happy, the lockdown. The children running wild inside, a group of hangarounds in the kitchen, families huddling nervously at the walls. 

There had been a time when you’d have gone up to those families with a fresh pot of coffee and some baking, helping to reassure them that it would all be okay. How the tables turn.

As you peererd around you noticed the doors to chapel were open, Sons inside counting guns. Your eyes moved over the men, noting who you recognised, Tig, Bobby and Jax, and who must’ve been from other charters.

Seemingly feeling your gaze on him, Jax turned his head and caught your eyes. With not an ounce of shock or surprise in his stare, he nodded at you with a knowing tight-lipped smile, welcoming you back into this world of chaos.

It wasn’t until you finally reached Happy’s dorm that you let out a deep breath. It was quieter back here, mostly out of bounds unless you had the okay from the members, which you apparently did.

You pushed the door open and were once again hit with an alarming wave of nostalgia. Happy’s dorm looked exactly the same. It was relatively bare, but tidy.

It was too familiar. It felt too normal being back here. Like the last seven months hadn’t happened, like they didn’t matter. 

You could feel yourself getting worked up and turned to face the man you had spent years loving.

He remained standing in the doorway, arms crossed, studying you from his spot.

“Why am I here, Happy? It’s been months. You just turn up at sunrise after months of no contact  to play a knight in shining armour? I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t mean enough to you to warrant being here.”

He just stared at you in silence, like he knew you’d get pissed whether he answered or not.

“I’ve been trying to move on with my life!” You continued, now sitting on the edge of his bed, “I’ve been working so hard to forget everything between us. To forget the fucking club. I just - I just want a normal life. I want to be able to come home after work and relax with my partner. I want to complain about my boss. I want to get annoyed about the ads on TV. I want my biggest problem to be figuring out what’s for dinner each night.”

You took a deep breath and stared down at your lap before admitting, “I just want boring.”

Still frozen in his spot, Happy finally spoke up, “You’d hate boring.”

You gave a dry laugh at his response and looked up at him with defeated eyes, “So what then? I just have to stay stuck in this weird in between?”

A silence fell between you as your words hung in the air. 

Relieved you’d been able to get those thoughts out of your system, you fell back onto Happy’s bed.

The silence lasted so long you wondered if you’d dozed off and he’d snuck out of the room when he spoke up, “Stay in here. I’ll send someone in with food later.”

You closed your eyes and listened as he turned and opened the door, ready to leave and do whatever the Sergeant at Arms does during a lockdown, noting the way his movement paused before he spoke again,

“I’m sorry I had to bring you back here.”

As he left and softly shut the door behind him, the first of your tears finally fell.

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #happy lowman x reader #happy lowman #happy lowman imagines

[takami-takami]

Nightmares.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. angst. hurt/comfort.

warnings— ptsd. trauma. self harm. nightmares. touch starved!keigo. be careful and know your limits!

Keigo feels the drop in his stomach first before anything else.

His bloodshot eyes snap open, lungs gulping in air as he sits up and grasps at the sheets below.

It doesn't matter that the room is pitch black. All he sees, clouding his field of vision, is red.

Red, when he attempts to blink it away. Red, when they're opened wide. Red, even through the bubbles of tears that he claws away with his nails. Red, when he stares at his filthy palms.

Unclean.

He asks himself if he could scrape it away if he tried hard enough, could expose the fresh cells underneath– the newly formed skin that has never been touched by the sins their owner has committed. New, like the skin of a child untainted by the corruption of those who were supposed to protect them.

He flinches when he feels the drape of his feathers surrounding him. Distantly, somewhere far outside his body, he wonders if they were always this scarlet color. Was he born with white wings? Did something make them this way? Did something make them the perfect shade for concealing bloodshed?

Did someone?

The waves of panic, the ones that shake his system to its core, bubble to the surface of his throat. They taste like disgust, like shame.

Don't let the guilt control you, Hawks, they say. Don't even let the thought pass through your mind. There's no reason to be upset... This is for the greater good. This is for your own good.

That's what they always told him.

His breathing comes quicker, deeper; but no matter how wide his chest expands, he still drowns. He needs to get out of here, needs to escape, there has to be an escape route, there has to be if he can just—

"Baby?"

The room illuminates with the click of a switch. His eyes, golden color swallowing shrunken pupils, glance behind him. Your face is illuminated by the dull, amber glow of the lamp by your bedside.

You look worried. Are you okay? He should ask you if you're okay.

He blinks, eyes focused directly on you. His body feels inhuman, hunched over and trembling with his hands still cupped below him. Stiff.

When he feels the bed creak beneath him, the velvet expanse of the comforter creasing with your movement towards him, he remains still. You offer the soft touch of your palm against his, interlacing his fingers with yours, silently asking permission. He squeezes back.

Your skin is pristine. Don't you know if you do that, you'll get them dirty?

You bring his hands to your lips anyway, kiss each pad of his fingertips tenderly before you begin to speak.

"Dreams again?"

He lets out a shaky breath in response, dropping his shoulders. He hasn't stopped staring at you for a second.

"Yeah, I-I," Keigo stutters, the adreneline beginning to dissipate from his veins, but still there. "Yeah, I guess so."

You hum. "Do you need some water? C'mon, sit up, I've got you. You're okay. I'll get you some water—"

You barely get the chance to move an inch before his hand shoots out and grips your arm, tightly at first before it frightens him that he'd be so quick to reach out. That his touch would be so rough.

"No! Please, don't stop," he all but begs, voice entirely too loud for his own ears. He wishes you were talking instead. Your voice is soothing, your voice is whole. "Stay. You... Can you just hold me? I didn't want to, I had to, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry—"

You know you're not the only one he's apologizing to. You accept it anyway, with a soft kiss that melts him to the core. "It's okay. I trust you." You tuck his hair behind his ears, to which he responds by leaning into the grounding touch. "You're doing your best. You're a good person."

It's difficult for Keigo to allow himself this, but you make giving in to the comfort too tempting. He buries himself into your chest, melts into the scratch of your fingers on his scalp.

Just stay like this. Just a little while longer, he thinks. Until I can feel like a person again.

#sorry this is rushed i just HAD to write this to be normal #🖋 writing #🍧 sugar #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #mha imagines #hawks angst #hurt/comfort