#i said that he doesn't need to thank me because i'm doing my due diligence as his gf and that since they're all really important to him

[flowered-mp3]

y'all i'm exhausted but like... happy and so emotionally overwhelmed :')

#i met my bf's dad. my bf's cousin and gf #and my bf's best friend #all in a single day. i'm absolutely exhausted and drained but happy at the same time :) #they were all so welcoming #his dad is pretty quiet but his mom seemed to like me alot. she hugged me and kissed me on the cheek before i left his house :') #and my bf said that that's the first time that she's ever done that to any of his gf's so far :') #plus his cousin's gf said that i'm good for him (my bf) #and that the only thing that he has to be careful about is to not try all of the fancy dancer shit that i do because she's worried that #he'll break himself lmfaooooo #and my bf said that his best friend seems to like me as well #and that he's happy that i was laughing with his best friend #and he's happy that i had a really long conversation with his mom and his cousin's gf :) #and then when he was driving back to my house #he said thank you to me. for being so open to trying new things/meeting everyone and he sounded so sincere and sweet and appreciative... #i said that he doesn't need to thank me because i'm doing my due diligence as his gf and that since they're all really important to him #they're important to me as well. i really mean that and i think that he took it well. #idk i'm just so overwhelmed with emotion that i just started tearing up in his car. i can't believe that this is my life :') #i'm just glad that his closest family and friends seem to like me and that we get along well :') #now he has to meet my friends and sit down for dinner with my family lol #now THAT'S going to be the challenge lol #e.txt

[parvulous-writings]

Could I request headcanons for Wyll, Dammon, and Zevlor react to shy gn crush confessing to him before running away because they're scared of being rejected?

Summary: I may have been a bit descriptive, I hope that's okay! They may also be slightly uneven... Oops Focuses more on the reaction of the gents, to try and allow for more projection!

Warnings: lil bit of fluff, but no major warnings!

Notes:  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too!

Zevlor

Zevlor has always been a strong leader, in your eyes. For all the disputes between the tieflings and those near them, he usually kept a level head to keep things under control - to the best extent that he could.

He also always returns any due diligence - be kind to him, and he'll show you the same in turn. You found this out very quickly - having found something that he had left behind at a lunch time gathering and given it back to him. Come supper, Zevlor was waving you over, offering to eat with you so neither of you alone, thanking you for returning his belongings.

You sit together in silence for a while, and whilst Zevlor eats, you more... push your food around, picking at it, and playing with it in a vague and unsuccessful attempt to calm your nerves.

"Something on your mind?" his voice startles you, and you're left stumbling over your words, a flurry of "I'm fine, yeah, I'm okay-" Repeated in various combinations. Zevlor just chuckles lightly at your flustered nature, but doesn't pry. Your thoughts are your own, and if you don't want to share them, he'll respect it.

There's a few more minutes of silence, before you blurt out a hurried confession, your words a blur to Zevlor's ears. After the sudden profession, you scramble to your feet and scarper off, your chest pounding against your ribs as you try to get out of Zevlor's sight as fast as your feet can carry you.

Zevlor doesn't move - part of his mind is trying to figure out what that flurry of words you uttered was, and the rest of it was just... Stunned. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of what just happened - though half of that was just due to the fact he hadn't understood a word you had said to him.

He does bring it up next time he sees you though - and you feel your face heat up as soon as he brings the subject up. "... It was nothing..." Your voice is little more than a mumble, and you can't bring yourself to look him in the eye. "It didn't sound like nothing... If there really is something you want to tell me, you needn't be afraid to say it..." His voice is kind, and you don't feel any innate pressure behind his words, but you speak anyway. You've done it once, surely the second time won't be as bad?

Wrong. You can hardly choke the words out, but when you do, Zevlor's looking at you with a kind smile. That wasn't a reaction you had expected - you had half been thinking that you'd be met with a lecture, but... He was just smiling.

"Is that why you ran off?" He asked you, humming thoughtfully.

Wyll

One of the first things that Wyll had noticed about you was your timid nature. He never really commented on it, but he always stood up for you at times when you couldn't find your voice (the Blade of Frontiers reactions coming in full force at these times)

He honestly had a bit of an inkling that you like him - you stick around him a lot, or constantly stealing looks in his direction. So, upon your confession, Wyll wasn't exactly caught off guard. What did stun him, though, was the way you ran off.

He had initially started to go after you, calling your name as you darted off and out of view. Then, after a moment's consideration, he decides to give you a moment. He's of the opinion that maybe you need that moment to yourself, to recollect and think.

It's nightfall when he comes to you, two goblets in one hand, and a bottle of wine in the other. "Care for a drink?" He offers you a goblet, and that charming smile you've come to know so well. Your heart flutters as he hands you a half-full goblet, and you spend the evening with one another drinking well into the night.

Wyll confides in you, that he has always been fond of your presence, and though he had never really wanted to push you, wanted to spend more time with you. You could hardly believe what you were hearing, and you could feel your jaw become more and more slack as he talks more and more.

"In fact..." Wyll speaks, pausing to take a sip of his wine. "And, forgive me if this is too forward for your tastes... I've always quite... Enjoyed the quiet, with you... You never pressed for answers from me, or... Constantly asked me for tales from my time on the front - all of which I would happily regale you with... But, I am most grateful, that you just let me be as I am..."

Despite your more open feelings for one another, you're still incredibly shy, and very liable to becoming flustered if anyone brings up your relationship with Wyll, or ask for any details.

Dammon

Dammon was in the forge when you came to him. He kept glancing over his shoulder, asking if you were okay, or if you needed anything, as you tried to work up the courage to speak.

In a similar way to Wyll, Dammon liked your shyness - he thought it was adorable, and made you unique. He was always there for you- and absolutely loves making little trinkets and things for you, tokens of his affection.

He hardly hears your words when you first utter them, your mumbles lost under the rhythmic clanging of his hammer on metal. "What? Can't quite hear you," He says, pausing to turn and look at you. You feel your face go red hot, and you blurt out what was meant to be your admittance - your feelings for him, your admiration of his work, all of it.

With the words hardly out of your mouth, you scarper, wanting to get away from the situation you'd thrown yourself into. Though - not that you'd noticed - Dammon was sprinting in an attempt to catch up with you. It had only taken a moment for him to drop his tools and shirk off his apron, metalwork entirely forgotten as his feet move as fast as they physically can to get to you.

He's not just going to let you go without actually knowing what you said - he has an inkling, naturally, it came with the way you showed affection to one another - the quality time, the gifts, all of it. But he wants to know with certainty.

When you get all shy and flustered again, his face lights up - you've unintentionally confirmed what he wanted to know, and he's quite possibly the happiest being for miles around.

He reassures you in an instant - he wants to follow these feelings with you, he doesn't want to shy away from them, and he's more than comfortable to think of you as a lover to him.

#requests open #x reader requests #headcanons #bg3 x reader #fluff #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate x reader #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 #bg3 headcanons #wyll #bg3 wyll #wyll ravengard #wyll x reader #bg3 zevlor #zevlor x reader #zevlor x tav #zevlor x you #dammon bg3 #dammon bg3 x reader #wyll ravenguard x reader

[swaps55]

this might be random, but i NEED to know, what's the risotto recipe you have in mind? I love cooking and, not to be cringe, but I have made a few of the dishes you've mentioned in Opus if they catch my eye or I have enjoyed making them before and fancy giving them a whirl again. But I don't remember you ever quite specifying the risotto and I was wondering if, well, there was a specific recipe or if it was just risotto. I was planning to just wing it but, well, food is a very conscientious theme throughout Opus and I knew there was a chance you might have an actual recipe in mind!

First, that is not cringe, that is amazing, and I am now dying to know what you have made.

Second, FUNNY STORY.

I do a lot of due diligence when I write. Food is a theme that runs throughout this series, and honest to god I look things up before I slap them on the page. Kaidan has a much more multicultural background than I do, and I didn't want to be That Asshole who assumes my narrow culinary experiences are universal. So when I mention a dish, it's safe to say I put some thought into it. I even have the actual drink recipes for the 'Yang Gang's favorite cocktails, thanks to @pip-n-flinx.

There is one notable exception to this.

It's the risotto.

I'm gonna be honest. When I made risotto the coveted Alenko dish, it went something like this:

Me: Ok, I need a funny reason for Shepard to be willing to go pose as Kaidan's partner with his parents. Also Me: How about a legendary home cooked meal. Me: Perfect. What's the Legendary Home Cooked Meal at Casa Alenko? First thing that comes to mind. Also Me: Risotto. Me: Great. Wait, what is risotto? Also Me: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Me: Doesn't matter, we're rolling with it.

I'm not even kidding. When I made Lora Alenko's Risotto the most mouth watering meal in the galaxy I didn't actually know what risotto was. I thought it was some kind of pasta. See why I research?

You have to understand, this all started with Sonata, and Sonata was supposed to be an AU one shot that was maybe 7k words TOPS. It wasn't supposed to be part of Opus. It wasn't supposed to dictate the tone and establish everything about how Opus ultimately unfolds. And because I wasn't writing it with that in mind - it was just this silly, supremely self-indulgent diversion to distract me from the stupid thing I was stuck on in Cantata - I, uh. I just winged it.

(I have since looked it up, since had it, and DO actually know what it is, please stop laughing.)

So I have no idea what the recipe is. I feel like it's one of those things that can't have a recipe, because the reality will never be as good as Kaidan's boasting.

But also consider this alternative: Sam has the worst tastebuds in the galaxy. What If Lora Alenko's "risotto" was just some elaborate home made cheesy rice that was kid!Kaidan's favorite meal, so he has some big time nostalgia glasses on about it, Sam is insane over it because he's a basic bitch, and there has not been a marine on the 'Yang who doesn't love it because marines' idea of a good snack is a box of crayons.

Just saying. XD

(That said, if you wind up with a heavenly risotto recipe you recommend, I'm uh, open to suggestions....;)

#swaps replies #Anonymous #opus!verse #my bluff has been called #witness my shame #some details are carefully thought out and meticulously planned #other times you trip and fall into them head first

[coffee-in-veins]

Give me some ThanZag - misc_Than wings please

hullo hullo, thanks for the ask!

it's so sweet of you to ask something about Hades! <3 then again, i think you've seen everything DD i have already, so... xD

this is the part of one of the future chapters for Chained butterfly which is currently on hiatus due to RRR. in the fic, Than (and any other Incarnation, really) is an eldritch primordal monstrocity and only looks like the hot boy we see in game because they have an outer "shell" which looks like it, to make it easier to deal with Gods.

the premise of the arc was, Than got really injured as he was helping Zag, it all became obvious that he was going behind Hades' back, and everyone got punished. Zag tried his best to stay in the House when he healed, but you know Zag, he has an antsy ass, so he tried to calm Than down and have a run out of the House again.

he fought through the first location with ease, but before the first boss room, he meets a surprised Charon who offers him a suspiciously free advice of not going forward. Zag laughs it off, thinking it's a joke, rushes in and sees the boss room empty. in a moment, he hears a familiar toll, and Than appears, while diligently looking down at his feet. and i had the following dialogue written down:

"Than? What, you got too worried about me? Or have I activated Mort accidentally? Sorry, if I did, there are no enemies here, and I dunno where Meg is"

"There are. She's working"

"Working? Isn't her work to stop me? She must be late, for the first time. I kind of feel insulted"

"She isn't. She has a replacement"

"What do you mean a repla-- No. No. No! No, he wouldn't!"

"Lord was livid for me messing up like I did, and doesn't take kindly to slackers in the House"

"Slackers? You're still injured and didn't have rest for what, past hundred, thousand years? More, even?"

"It matters not when you fail to meet his expectations"

"That sounds like Father alright. How did he even-- Why Nyx wouldn't say anything?"

"Don't talk ill of her. Looking over Thartarus was as soft as Pact of Punishment she could get me"

"Why would you sign something like that?"

"Some of us don't have the luxury to choose whether they sign those or not, Zagreus"

"So... so what now? You're actually going to kill me? Because if so, you're taking your sweet time!"

"Death is inescapable, it can wait. And Mother was most unpleased with my past actions, so as additional condition of my Pact I am forbidden to attack first"

"Oh. I... I need to thank her later"

"You sure do"

"Well I won't attack you!"

"You fought with Meg"

"It's... different. I knew she'd get out of the Pool just fine, and with you I... Can you even...?"

"You can find out"

"Have no intention to, you know!"

"The choice is yours"

"You honestly think I would do something like that? Thanks for vote of confidence in me!"

"You're very welcome. And I never said you would"

"Okay... okay this... this I don't.... ugh! Well. I don't know, I... you say the fight won't start unless I attack you?"

"I'm bound to my contract. And I wouldn't even if I had to, for as long as I could stall myself"

"I.... Thanks, Than. So. Huh. So all we have is time here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, only one of us could leave, and I have to intention to kill you to get out, neither do you, apparently. So all we have now is time. A rare commodity between us, I must admit. Um... I was... how's... how are your wings, Than?"

and it becomes their routine, for a time. i dunno how it could happen, but i wanted Zag to be returned to the House of Hades at least a couple of times my thoughts were either - Styx could've flooded those chambers after some time since the Underground moves around constantly - add dick moves to daddy dearest and add summons to Than's fight after some point in time later (like it's with Meg and Alecto), so Zag either allow himself be killed by wretches, or start the fight proper, but then Than is no longer bound by "you no move first" rule and just... KOs him in one soft touch, probably, so that it won't be "violent death" and Keres won't have any saying in this (yeah, those still exist) so Zag is back in the House, Than is still recovering and has it worse in the House (because of added chaines), and Zag runs off, fighting to the Thartarus boss.... so they could sit and talk, and just spend time together

but of course it wasn't that sweet and easy and had a drama twist in there :D

#my shoebox of letters #ask game #chained butterfly #writer's pain #wip

[tiffanylamps]

I had a dream that Juwon was partnered up with Jihwa (who was in Manyang somehow) instead of Dongsik and uhhh this absolutely breaks the plot. But also. It's interesting to think about how Juwon would have approached his Dongsik investigation if Nam Sangbae didn't make them partners. (And also fun to think about how he and Jihwa would work together as police partners lol, especially since she's Dongsik's friend so maybe Juwon would try to take advantage of that somehow.) Anyway. I had to tell someone because once I woke up my brain went brrr

Anon, this is actually pretty genius! I ended up getting carried away and writing a load of gibberish lol

I have always felt like ji hwa and joo won reflect one another within the story*, as they often share the same beliefs regarding their role as officers of the law (and the fact they're the two "obvious" love interests for dong sik 😂). ji hwa and joo won believe that they are cops first, whereas dong sik doesn't hold the same attitude (which makes total sense for the narrative/themes of the story + the character's history). I think, if BE were a normal cop comedy/romcom, ji hwa and joo won would make pretty good partners because they're both very intelligent and diligent workers. They also can play to each other's strengths: ji hwa's experience and leadership skills versus joo won's attention to detail and tenacity. Plus, joo won respects ji hwa more so than the rest of his superiors, so, I think (once he gets passed his jealousy and mistrust) he would listen to her (and learn a lot from her). But... BE takes place during an unusual time period due to the cold cases/serial killings. So, the plot needed joo won to become dong sik's partner because I don't think the story would have progressed as quickly as it did, otherwise. Plus, ji hwa would have reported joo won for his involvement with lee geum hwa and would have never gone along with his brilliantly batshit crazy plans. jwds work perfectly with one another because they're on the same level of E x t r a- anyone else would get extremely tired of joo won during this era of his life (he needed dong sik's patience/different perspective on life). Having said that, let's indulge in the possibility for a sec... I don't know if Joo Won would have been able to play it cool if he were ji hwa's partner, instead of dong sik's. He's obsessed with the guy, so you know he would be constantly asking questions (which he thinks are super sly but are actually SO obvious). ji hwa would totally be like "do you like him or?????" 😂 We would have had more scenes of joo won in the butcher shop, as it would be the more reasonable way for him to interact with dong sik... but... he still would have found a way to get into that basement. The guy was so desperate for an excuse to engage with his new favourite person suspect. Oh my god, imagine ji hwa, joo won, dong sik, and ji hoon meeting up on their lunch breaks and joo won is just staring at dong sik the entire time 😂 ("Yah, Ji Hwa, tell your partner-" "-tell him yourself, Dong Sik. he's right here-" "-to stop staring at me. Otherwise, I might get the wrong impression 😏" "That's unprofessional, Assistant Inspector Lee 😑" "So is staring at a colleague." "I was not-" "He does have a point, Han Joo Won-ssi..." "See? Ji Hoon-ah thinks so." "Yah, Dong Sik-" "Assistant Inspector Lee, I don't know what you're implying-" "Do you need me to spell it out for you?" "Aigoo, stop it. Both of you. I'm trying to eat my lunch without vomiting.") There are so many fun possibilities! I love this option if BE were an (obvious) romcom! Anyway, yeah. I got carried away there. Sorry for the rambling and corny dialogue. This is a super fun ask, thanks for sharing it with me 😊

*and dong sik and jae yi reflect one another: victims of corruption. super clever, cunning, and able to see past people's bullshit.

#beyond evil #jtbc beyond evil #anon ask #ask answered #thank you <3

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

Hi Miss Em ! I just want to say that I read the new chapter and honestly I have never felt more frustrated with someone in a fic than now, like Viserys just pushed all of my buttons and installed a new rage in me I never knew I had. I truly resonate with Daemon's line and what a beautiful line to describe the whole feeling for half of the fic-

his hope turns to ash

I honestly felt that pain when a parent/brother doesn't understand what your going through but somehow manages to listen and understand to everyone else.

After watching the show I finally understood who had attempted the murder of Babey and her babies. But to see that in this chapter and him being so smug about it pissed me off as well as Alicent's and Otto's highass ( sorry for my language but then again this is a Daemon series we're talking about )

Now I just want Babey and Daemon to leave and never comeback to these assholes, truly terrible people. I want Babey to get her Kepus , her good brother Laenor's and finally her elder sister's comfort, she needs to be wrapped in a blanket and given all the love in the world !

I'm thinking why don't we unleash Ulla, Daemon, Athfiezar together on King's landing, like let them just go mayhem on the whole place for poor babey. I'm also very happy that Blood and Cheese were introduced in this chapter ! This is going to be very exciting !

Hehe sorry I went on a huge rant, thank you for another amazing chapter !!! I may be busy for the coming weeks ( lot of project works ) but I want to say if i don't message anything, please know that whatever you post is amazing and I hope you're healthy and happy 🩷

-🧇

Hey, 🧇! Aaah, I’m so glad you enjoyed! How are you? I hope you’re doing well!

Yeah, Vissie T was a giant wad of dicks in this chapter. From a third-party stance, I do kinda get his inaction; he’s not just Babey’s dad, but the King of an entire continent. He can’t just arrest a dude based on the aggro say-so of his nutjob brother, let alone a member of his own governmental hierarchy. It’d send a really bad message to the Realm as a whole if he were to act without due diligence.

That being said, he is committing the very same mistakes Jaehaerys did; in continually upholding the Realm, he’s simultaneously ignoring or outright rejecting the needs of his own family. He’s caught between a rock and a hard place, unfortunately for him. As a Daemon stan, I hate his guts; as an objective party, I kinda get how he reacts in this chapter. It’s disappointing, but there is just more at stake than an 18-year-old girl’s feelings. Daemon has only very circumstantial proof; it might be enough for him to go on, but not the ruler of a nation.

LARYS IS A FREAK AND I STAND BY THAT. But yeah, I wanted him to be as creepy and inflammatory as possible so that Daemon would have an excuse to beat his head in. Luckily, Daemon’s doing his problem-solving and has got some very iconic peeps in to deal with the guy, haha!

Daemon and Babey and Daeron are getting the hell outta there, home to Dragonstone! She’s lost a bunch of support, but she’ll be gaining some too - that’s a part of growing up, I suppose. We realise how flawed our parents are, we cut out the people who aren’t good for us, and we reinvent our circle of peers. Babey’s pregnancy has disrupted the uneasy peace that has existed in the family - with each opposing side believing they have the political advantage - because what had just been a marriage is now an alliance bearing legitimate heirs for the Blacks side. Thus, the Greens are lashing out in panic, ergo the whole King’s Landing drama. Rhae’s gonna realise that her petty resentments are meaningless in the face of the larger threat, and we’ll get some sis reunion action soon! Yay for Babey reworking her circle. And I totally LOLed at the idea of Daemon, Ulla and Athfiezar taking down the capital - those chaos demons would vibe with that, haha.

Thank you so much for your comment! I always love reading them 😘😘

#fanfiction comments

[twogyuu]

Hey, hope you're continuing to do well! How have you been? I had a very random Seventeen-related question for you. You're always asked who your bias is, but I want to know who in Seventeen you're most like personality-wise. So, who do you think you're most like? You can pick up to 3 members (I always choose my top 2, then an honourable mention when I play this "game" with my sister). PS. I'm very much looking forward to that Wonwoo fic. 👀 Take care! ❤

OOOHHH!!! Hello!! I'm just about the same - maybe a little more giddy than usual because of a certain Yoon . . . 😂

This is such a fun and different question! Thank you for asking!!!

Hhhmmm . . . tbh, part of the reason why I grew to like SVT so much is because I see a little bit of myself in most of them 😂 We were all 90s babies, so it's kind of fun growing into adulthood with them and that comes with shared experiences (as much shared as you can get with Kpop idols ofc 💀), but you said 3 so I will pick 3 😭🤣

I am a strange breed of Vernon, an extroverted version of Wonwoo, and sprinkling of Jeonghan!

I apologize in advance for how long this is 💀

A strange breed of Vernon because I'm fairly straightforward and honest with how I feel (if asked - I won't necessarily go around advertising or explaining it lol) and I'm this weird mix of go-with-the-flow and open-minded, but also very independent in that I have my own set of values I live by and are firmly grounded in? You do you, I do me - I don't really try to fit in and peer pressure doesn't really bother me anymore. Kind of like the person who goes to the party and ends up people watching? Apparently, according to my friends, I'm also very hard to read/don't expressing my feelings well (I just like to think I express them differently but idk 😭😂). . .?? I've heard ppl say that about Vernon at times. I'm going off the rails, but I also have a lot of other little things in common with Vernon! I'm a cat person (but more like a dog-like cat if that makes sense LMAO), we both love movies and music, wandering the city on public transportation - things like that :)

An extroverted version of Wonwoo (this is mostly based on what he said in SVT's docuseries, Hit the Road) because I also like to explore different hobbies lightheartedly. I don't get too invested in one thing or the other most of the time. I don't go looking for new things to do, but for better or for worse, I'm always up to try if I stumble upon it! I'm not asking for pity or anything, so please don't feel bad for me, when I say this! But for the longest time, I felt like I never really fit in anywhere too 😅 That said, I've gotten over it lol - I'm more extroverted than Wonwoo though in that if I find someone interesting, I'm not afraid to strike up a conversation with them either!

Last, a sprinkle of Jeonghan because I like bantering and I need boundaries between my work and personal life LOL. Jeonghan talks a lot about how he doesn't know much about Kpop outside of SVT nor does he spend much time outside of work doing Kpop-related things. I'm the same with my work! I won't specify what I do for privacy reasons, but in my profession a lot of people end up living and breathing it. I'm just . . . not into it the same way 😅 I will do my due diligence and work hard at the job, but I'm not about to pick up extra stuff related to it if that makes sense.

A bonus! After I saw your ask, I asked my IRL carat friends to name the members I most similarly too just to see how I'm perceived and if my thoughts lined up with theirs LOL. Surprisingly, they said I was a mix of Vernon and Chan???? Maybe it's because I radiate loser energy too??? LOL jk jk 🤣 They said it's the way we "approach interpersonal relationships" and "maknae who doesn't seem like a maknae" energy (Most if not all my friends are older!) 🤷🏻‍♀️

This was probably much longer than you asked for - again, I'm so sorry! 🥴😬 I've thought about this a lot (probably too much LOL) in parallel with my bias situation because I figured it could inform my final decision 💀 You gave my opportunity to flesh it out! 😂 (not that I feel anymore resolved . . . sjdfksdf)

How about you!? Who are you most similar to in SVT?

If you got this far, thank you so much for taking the time to ask and read all of this!! >.< Please don't feel pressured to make your answer as long LOL. If it is long, hey - I'm all for reading it and psycho-analyzing ourselves in the lens of SVT! hahaha

You take care too!

#take care! ❤ anon #oversharing at its best 🥴 #OOF LOL #oh well

[suuho]

hi! its kind of a weird thing to say, but i really love your general outlook and takes in general, especially with k-idols. that being said, i'm very curious about how you perceive dino, as he's one of the seventeen members i see you post a lot. i also feel like there is no standard way in terms of people's perception of him (unlike, say, jeonghan, who people tend to see as a troublemaker). sorry if it doesn't make sense, lol, you don't have to answer! hope you're having a good day. :D

hi! first of all, thank you very much, that is such a nice thing to say. i feel so honored. more under the cut because it gotten somewhat long. ♡

now, dino ... ah, this is such a good question! because i absolutely love dino and i think i mentioned that he has definitely upgraded into my svt bias line. he is my favorite performance unit member, and one of my favorite members of the group overall. personally, i think he is incredibly good looking; he's really grown into himself. he's slowly found a style for himself, and he is definitely aware of how handsome he is, lmao. love that for him.

the superficial aside, i admire him a lot. dino is incredibly diligent and a perfectionist, even more so than hoshi in the group. i do believe that he would work himself to the bone for the group (and has done so before, like when he got hospitalized on the an ode tour and tried to perform despite being clearly unwell). i've mentioned it prior in my ask regarding seungcheol and chan's relationship, but he would die up on stage if it would be required of him. dino is someone who will always go the extra mile. tied into this is that he's crazy professional, especially as a performer and i think that is partly due to the fact that he had to grow up very fast as a trainee / young idol, and because of the environment that he grew up in as the maknae of seventeen.

he isn't stubborn but rather strong-willed and determined. that, too, is directly influenced by his position in the group; they often joke about how they treat chan a little roughly, and i feel like he has learned to grit his teeth through it (not in a necessarily negative way, just. you know, there are certain societal norms tied to their group dynamics and his position within the group, and as the oldest in his family, chan was not accustomed to that and had to learn how to deal with it). all of that as well as svt's insane schedules and his job as an idol have made him crazy endurable. like, when i say he would work himself to the bone it's because i know that he actually could work himself to the bone, and sometimes he needs a firm hand to tell him stop.

he is now often perceived as one of the very attractive and desirable members (compared to some others in the group who are seen as more dorky etc) and i think, while that is very true, he is insanely aware of it. he is a young man in his twenties now, exploring himself, and i feel like you can tell! on the other hand, and i just talked about that today, which is one of my favorite things about dino, is that ... he seems to be such a theater kid? like, who would have thought that the guy everyone finds so hot and cool and awesome (which he all is) truly seems to absolutely love acting and improvisation and little skits? it's actually very refreshing and has just endeared me to him a million times more. chan: the theater kid. i just love that so much. what a genuinely wonderful thing to watch him find so much joy in, considering he often compensates via being over professional or super charismatic on stage. anything but to see him as the cutesy maknae. like, you can tell he enjoys gose episodes with a narrative, the whole picheolin thing made him so happy and he really embodied that, and he is ready to fall into a skit at any given moment. how fun!! i just. ahhh. lee chan, you are so lovely.

that said, he is a fucking beast on stage. he is a monster performer. he is often overlooked in conversations about the best dancers in kpop in favor for hoshi, but i think it does him a disservice. he is super athletic, his lines are super tight and precise while, simultaneously, he is such a fluid dancer. i feel like he combines all of his fellow performance unit members styles and influences - minghao's grace, hoshi's passion and jun's endurance, just to name a few - and has drawn the best out of them to fit himself and his own craft. i love me a good center chan moment and his danceology was incredible; really showcased how good he is, how raw his talent is at times, and how incredibly determined he is to get better. he really poured his soul into it, like he is so passionate and intense ... he was made to be an idol. at times, he reminds me a little of minseok and baekhyun from exo in that regard.

i want his solo debut to be full, sexy, charismatic, danceable r&b. i think he is incredibly loveable, very emotional, outgoing, talkative, and has grown up really well. i think, every day he just wants someone to be proud of him which is why he works so hard, for himself and for the others. i think he is severely underrated in many regards. and i am glad that he is part of seventeen because he makes them the perfect group. i love and adore him a lot for everything that he is.

#ask #anon #kaz talks svt #thank you again!!! hope this was insightful to you!! #a little rambly cause i had a long day today

[messwriting]

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

POISON AND PLEASURE

Osamu Miya (Post-Time Skip) x Mob Boss! Female Reader

“Backed into a corner, Osamu makes a deal with the devil -- you.”

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: oh boy. Dub-con (Osamu does consent, but it is coercion); MANIPULATION AND EXTORTION; slight gun play, lasts for a moment; Rough sex; Hate-fucking; Degradation/Humiliation; Spanking, also just for a moment; Oral sex, fingering; Orgasm Denial; Choking; Violence; Dash of corruption and prey/predator; Deep throat; Facial. Fucking in a kitchen/public place. Also, just in case, toxic relationship and money talk (lol). 

Word count: 9,889 (such a nice number)

A/N: Oh, this has been a ride. This is my contribution to The Smut Pile Collab, hosted by the lovelies @present-mel​, @pleasantanathema​ and @linestrider​. I’m very excited to participate, since it is my first collab and they are my (home) first server. Big, huge, gigantic thanks to Lauren (my wife) for reading this over and beta-ing for me. <3

Well, Osamu fuckers unite! :insert elmo fire: (i’ve been on discord too much)

Osamu gets up from his seat inside his small office, looking from the small window on his door inside the already closed restaurant lit only by the lights that come in through the windows, the time being well after closing. Shady deals are mostly done late at night, he thinks. Right as he’s leaving the office and closing the door behind him with a key, the movement outside catches his eye and Osamu turns just in time to watch as the black BMW sedan of the year quietly comes to a halt right in front of his store. He frowns, knowing who that means. He'd much rather deal with the soldier responsible for his loan initially than with you.

Two men emerge from the front doors of the car, one immediately heading for the passenger door while the driver checks the street; they exchange a small nod before the man on the side of the sidewalk opens the passenger door and when he does, he positions himself behind it and immediately out of the way. Osamu could be intrigued by the action if he didn't feel so represented by it - he, too, would prefer to always be out of your way.

There’s power in the way you move, ingrained in your body as you descend an expensive white heel onto the concrete beneath you on the sidewalk, the other following suit while you propel yourself out, holding the frame of the car for support. It’s late at night and the street is fairly dark, but your simple presence, clad in an impeccable white suit with a deep neckline showing immaculate skin, is enough to brighten the place. There’s an elegant, expensive-looking and equally unnecessary coat draped over your shoulders and your hair was flawlessly styled.

You draw attention as the color black absorbs light-- from all and everything. Maybe it is because of your soul, he muses.  

Once you were standing outside the car, your driver marched to the door of the onigiri restaurant, holding it open for you while you strode inside, heels clicking on the pavement, the sway of your hips something Osamu may think beautiful to watch if it weren’t you.

“Hello, Miya-san. Hope you have better news for me this week.” You state as cheerfully as you can, calmly entering the establishment in a glory of white. You shed your coat once you passed the door, the driver catching it while the second man seemed to survey the outside area a little more before entering.

"Hi." Osamu extends his hand with the brown envelope. But you go around him and walk to the counter, calmly sitting down on one of the high stools while absentmindedly looking around his small restaurant.

“I missed my lunch today, so I hope you don’t mind me grabbing a bite before I leave.” You don’t look at Osamu when he doesn’t move for his place behind the counter immediately.

“We’re closed.” He says and you turn around just momentarily, piercing eyes on his profile. One of your men is still by the door and the look he gives the twin is also very compelling. Osamu feels his teeth gritting against the pressure he makes to shut his tongue. "Sure."

One of the goons comes closer and takes the brown envelope from his hands, without you even looking back as the burly tattooed man sits in one of the booths and starts counting the money.

“So, how’s business? I’ve heard you had a hard time these last two months.” You try to make small talk while checking the menu over the counter, carefully done nails threading along the restaurant menu. You only press a long nail against what you want and slide it to him, the 18K diamonds on your small and discreet Cartier watch and matching trinity ring on your finger catching more of his attention than your watchful eyes. Your jewelry is discrete, tasteful, and still amounting enough to buy the whole building where the Onirigi’s shop is located. Osamu's throat moves around nothing in reflex.

"Isn’t it obvious?" He grumbles while working against the counter, starting once he cleans his hands on the sink. He’d like to say his eyes keep diverting to your neckline because of your shining jewelry.

"So rude, Miya." you chuckle. “And I’ve been nothing but nice to you. Didn’t you pay for your little plumbing problem with my money? Is it only dirty to you once I’m present?”

"I don’t like people like you." Osamu doesn’t beat around the bush. And once he’s done with this payment he’d be completely free of you anyway, he doesn’t feel the need to pretend.

“Like me? You mean kind? All I ever did was help you out in a time of need.”

Osamu’s snort is disrespectful. The big man by the door moves but a simple turn of your hand in the air has him standing back, carefully looking down on Osamu, but unmoving. The other’s still counting the money rather calmly, the booth he’s seated unseeable from the shop window.

“You see, disrespect won’t take you far.” You say offhand, your watchful eyes on Osamu’s every move but with no real worry. You don’t trust him, but you know he’s not stupid.

"I don’t plan on it." He answers you after a beat, finishing wrapping the Salmon onigiri, disposing it carefully on a plate, and depositing it in front of you, accompaniments arranged around. Osamu doesn't use the fact that he doesn't like you as an excuse for a half-ass job; he's not the type, which is refreshing. Is what you like about him.

“Get started on a few others. I trust your recommendations.”

Osamu chooses to work quietly, in silence. You, however, are happily chatting away at his high stool as if this is just another day of bullying patrons. Maybe, for you, it is.

“You work very diligently.” You observe, eyes trailing from his toned arms to his deft fingers diligently working on the rice ball. He’s fast and experienced, rolling the nori around the triangled shaped steamed rice after successfully filling it with whatever he chose. Osamu just grumbles out something, or tsk, even when the way you look at his fingers takes an unexpected appreciative turn. 

“Maybe I should have you working overtime more.” You muse when he finishes the new onigiris and carefully places them in front of you. Osamu eyes you nastily, clearly displeased at your comment, which makes your lips split in a bigger smile despite your teeth closing around the rice ball. Even so, you’re pleasantly surprised by their flavor. 

“See, this is why I like you, Osamu.” The man frowned at your loose use of his first name, the way it rolls off your tongue so nicely. “You always deliver good work.”

“It’s my job.” Osamu retorts, unamused. “I do it right even if it’s for…” He catches his tongue right in time, his eyes catching movement from the man seated down at one of the tables, almost biting his tongue in the process. “--people like you.” 

Osamu watches while the burly man with tattoos moves discreetly despite his size, bends down so his mouth can be on your ear level, and murmurs something to you that he doesn’t quite catch. Your steely eyes are momentarily looking down when they blink and fly back to his face, a deep, blank stare that makes Osamu’s brows furrow. His back becomes straighter, a gripping feeling in his gut that triggers his fight or flight. 

He presses the urge down - tells himself he doesn’t have anything to fear.

He’s looking down at you, but Osamu feels small under your steady glare. Which in reflex, after several years of being stupid in pair, makes him want to act up.

"Seems to me you forgot some money, Miya."

"What?" His shocked tone is harsh and his eyes dart between you to the two men behind you, looking as steady as his walls and just as broad. "I counted it twice, everythin’ I owe ya ‘s there." His accent comes out pretty hard when he’s agitated.

"You only have fifty thousand here."

“I owe ya fifty thousand.” Osamu deadpans, almost sneering. “What ’re ya sayin’?"

“No, Miya. Fifty thousand is what you owed me two weeks ago.”

"You gave me an extension." He argues, brows furrowed.

"Exactly. I never said anything about the interest.”

"What?"

"You forgot the interest." You talk to him as if he’s a child, lips turning upwards at his confusion. Osamu has the gut feeling you’re enjoying every second of this. Every little moment of his deep discomfort. “You were informed about them when you accepted the loan, you know how they work. If you don’t pay on the due date, 10 percent interest each extra week you remain in debt.”

"Are you telling me I'm missin’ over 10K in interest rates?

"Yes." You say, smiling while tilting your head sideways, analytical. "Because you are."

“I'm paying you back,” Osamu grits through his clenched teeth, almost as if he’s willing it to be true, “Everything I owed ya is there. ”

"Not quite. You’re paying me back about--” You smile and press your lips in thinking, eyebrows furrowing while you calculate on your head the exact number.  “-- 82 percent of what you owe me.”

Osamu’s fists close, veins bulging while his heart picks up with the adrenaline rush of a fit of rage. Aggression flows on his body to the point where his entire frame trembles. His teeth are clenched, tightly forced together by his pressed jaw. His brain cannot reason beyond the need to vent that outrage, and with every second he spends looking at your pretty-faced indifference sitting in front of him at the counter, his outrage slowly merges into fury. Osamu stares back at your emotionless eyes, turns, and walks two strides before burying his fist in the nearest plaster wall, the pain grounding him, soothing his nerves. 

Pain is familiar -- what Osamu doesn’t like is to feel so deranged.

"Fuck!" He exclaims loudly but still controlled, turns his broad back to you, breathes deeply a few times, and then settles. You watch in delighted silence as he moves to the freezer, grabs an iced pack of random food, and puts on his busted knuckles, his eyes on the hole he left on the wall; The twin sighs audibly, then walks back while coldly regarding you and your two watchdogs who look over to him carefully, almost startled.

You, however, didn’t even flinch.

"So how much do I still have to give you?"

“I think the better question is: Can you pay?”

“I’ll figure it out.” Osamu grumbles out, his clenched jaw working over grinding teeth.

“That’s not how this works, Miya.” You tell him, your spine regally straight on the high seat as if it is your throne. Your lips move around the next word with malice. “When.”

“I--” Osamu stops to think for a moment, coldly calculating his financial situation. He has no way to withdraw money from the main branch to try and cover the losses of this branch, that would be simply stupid. There is no way for him to borrow money from Atsumu, who doesn’t know the concept of savings; Kita can not help him with such a great amount and he can’t recur to his poor parents. He also doesn’t want to resort to a bank at all, which doesn’t leave him many options. A new extension raises interests and he doesn't think he can do it beyond the amount he would need to add. Osamu's chest slowly fills with dread - he knows what’ll come if he doesn’t pay and he refuses to let his business become a Mafia parlor.

You watch Osamu slowly and quite meticulously calculate his options while engrossed in reasoning his dreadful situation; it’s thrilling, you almost can’t hide the contentment blossoming in your chest at his desperate situation. 

His expression shifts and turns sour, before slowly building back his blank façade but it’s too late, you already know his conditions and capacities - it’s your job to know. And you pride yourself in never making bets, just assuming calculated risks, so Osamu is right where you wanted him to be.

You do suspect the black-haired male is the same, that disinterested stare in his handsome face nothing short of sharp, his aloof behavior making every second of rilling Osamu up to this manifestation of discomfort all the more delightful. His only problem is that the man plays by rules you don’t. And what you want, you take.  

“I’ll need an extension for the rest.” He finally says, so absolutely angered it’s almost a curse. Even the hostility in his tone makes a shiver run down your spine, all the hairs on your arms standing on edge while your insides slowly melt, fed by the images in your brain.

“Really?” You playfully answer, faked surprise not made to convince anyone. Osamu seethes in place, labored breathing making his chest move up and down. “See, now I can’t help you out. I told you disrespect would only take you so far.” 

You get up from your seat, a show of touching your expensive black plump Louboutin on the ground. “I can’t let you out like this, not when you did such a show of being… rude.”

“What do you want.” Osamu almost spits at you once you’re rounding his counter, entering his space, closing on him. But he holds himself in place by pressing his nails hardly against the inside of his palms.

“First, some respect.” You sultrily say at him, much as a viper luring its prey. It rolls off your scarlet lips while you look up at him from your long lashes and perfect face. It makes Osamu want to wreck it.

“I don’t respect you.” He says in undertone since you’re close, sounding much like a hiss. 

“Doesn’t seem like a smart thing to say to someone to whom you owe so much.” You purse your lips, fake pout. “And you seem like a smart man, Miya. Or am I wrong?”

Osamu blinks, brows furrowing while he looks down at you, his mind working.

“Where are you going with this?” He eyes you warily, his eyebrows furrowing, his mind trying to gauge the target of your wicked intentions. “You want something.”

 You smile, pretty red lips stretching to show a beautiful line of white teeth and he’s surprised that the poison isn’t dripping. 

“See, I knew you were smart.”

“I’m not giving you my business.” Osamu hisses, like a cornered animal, but his instance shows he’s more prone to fight than flee. 

“Don’t want it.” You’re quick to tell him, innocence so out of place that it makes even clearer that you’re being honest. “I may need… services, though.” 

Osamu’s spine shoots straight once again, his eyes sharp boring into your face with cold disdain.

“I’m not laundering your money.” 

“Money launder, Miya? That’s a federal felony.” You lean back, supporting yourself on your forearms against the balcony, vigilant eyes zooming on him. “Are you saying I’m a criminal?” 

Osamu stays silent for the first time. There’s a predatory glint in your eyes that he understands as a warning, but that doesn’t stop him from upturning his brow and tilting his head in a small challenge. Osamu is appalled at what your upturning lips do to his guts, swallowing the saliva that pools in his mouth. He must be wrong in the fucking head to feel anything else than disgust in your sight, but even so, there’s no denying the way there’s a devilish pull around you, like the temptation of a capital sin.

“What I mean is… I have a specific service for you, personally. So you could pay me in...” Your tongue snaps against the roof of your mouth with a small noise, lips turning up in vile intention, “Different goods, per se.”

Osamu refuses to accept his train of thought, eyes pressing into slits while he watches you. His tone enunciates every word of his question. 

“What do you mean?” 

Your answering smile is sordid.

“You know what I mean Miya, we’ve just established you’re not stupid.”

“I’m starting ta’ think you are, though.”

Your laugh is loud, cheerful even. It makes him look at you as if you’re insane.

“Maybe.” You chuckle, retreating your arms back and straightening your posture on the tool, your neck tilting to the side. “But when I want something, I want it. So why deny myself that? I find the whole point of self-control to be so… pedestrian.” There’s this contempt in your tone at the word, mixing into trivial once your shoulders shrug your consideration for a whole chunk of what living in a society means. “Why hold myself to it if I’m above?” Osamu chooses to ignore that question.

“And what if I say no?” 

“You’re free to do what you want, I don’t own you.” Yet, you think, smiling. “Then again you still owe me 10k in interests and with your measly weekly 5k profit and the increased interest percentage with the second extension, we know what’ll happen to you…  And I’d hate for that to happen to you.”

The silence is heavy and acidic, burning on him. And you let the seconds pass, relishing in the way he seems to grow aggravated, jaw overworking around nothing to bite, hands in fists by his side. 

Oh, you’re close to defiling the pristine white of your designer clothes, the feeling brewing inside you threatening to spill between your thighs. Osamu looks absolutely delicious while being so emotional. 

You can see the gears turning inside his pretty dark-haired head, his eyes looking around and back at you, threading down your face, to your neck to the plunging neckline of your suit - you elongate your body while he watches, pleased to have his eyes on you, especially when they're burning with unattended violence and aggression. 

Osamu’s always so detached from the events happening around him, so unshakable in that aura of apathetic tranquility that it has caused you to develop an almost macabre interest in making him desperate. And now you are continually enjoying the result, the awakening of the flames that you always knew existed inside the small business owner.

 A few minutes pass while you’re just content to watch, the knot in your stomach growing tighter as you appreciate the size of his shoulders, the strength hidden in the strong biceps, the broad, defined torso that you know exists under that simple black outfit simply by gut feeling alone. You are tempted to ask him to turn around so that you can also enjoy his backside.

“Ok.” He says in a breath that seems more like it was ripped out of his chest. Like a dead man last world. You like this analysis. But of course, he can’t have it so easy.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear. Did you say anything?”

Osamu purses his lips in discomfort, almost bites his tongue in the process of not telling you to go to hell.

 “I said,” he entones again, though his disdain is showing. “Ok”

“Ok, what?” You press. Oh, the way how his veins bulge on his forearms when his nails press on his palms have your hairs standing on end. You blink at him with a smile, all too pleased with yourself.

“Ok, I’ll do it.” Osamu squeezes out, brows furrowed in discovering your intentions. You’re leering with wicked prowess. 

“I don’t think that's how you say it, Miya.” Your brows go up in the tiniest indication of irritation. Your voice is calculated, though unable to hide the elation.

“Ok… Miss. I’ll do anything you want.” The words come out of his mouth sounding nothing like submission and much like he just cursed your whole generation, teeth grinding. Still, it makes you smile. You don’t want to break his spirit -- that’s why you chose him.

“That’s what I like to hear.” You say, pushing yourself out from the counter where you supported yourself. Coat long forgotten on top of it, you cross your arms in front of your breasts, knowing exactly how you look and very pleased at the way his eyes ever so slightly thread down your plunging neckline. “But not so fast. I didn’t tell you I’d accept it-”

“Ya just--” Osamu almost explodes, the arms he holded closed in front of him being thrown in the air as if he’d be ready to grab you. You just turn a hand up and reels at how he actually shuts up right after.

“I just told you, you could pay me in services.” You continue, one step closer to him in your expensive shoes, plump red lips dripping wicked intent. 

“But,” You start, closer to him enough that your breath is touching his heated skin and you can smell the sweat his aggression produced, your mouth salivating at the thought of tasting it on his skin. 

Your finger rests on his chest and you thread it up while speaking, looking him in the eyes, so pleased at finding so much life in his usual dead stare, “I don’t know if you’re good enough for the job yet.” 

Osamu stares back at you, hands in fists forcibly stuck next to his body, feeling the way your hot breath trails on his jaw and hating himself for what it brews in his insides. 

You stretch up in your heels, mouth dangerously close to his, which rests ajar to let his breathing out, enough that he can taste your mint breath on his tongue. 

“I think I may need a little…”  Your eyes thread down to his mouth and then back to his eyes while you speak your next words, “--taste, you know?”

Osamu flexes his fingers, swallows dry around his closed throat, stares at your face -- so close the downright devilish smile on your red lips seems to narrow his field-view -- and he blinks. 

The Miya thinks how he wants to wipe that smile off your sinful lips. How he wants to have you trembling, unattended, and disheveled. He thinks about you begging with his name on your tongue, for a release that he’ll keep denying at his disposition. Osamu thinks about leaving you sore and marked, thinks about wrapping his hands around your neck to watch as you struggle, turning purple, life evading you while he fucks you; consider this may be the only way he’d ever had the opportunity to get even close to a payback. 

Osamu wants you to experience mind-numbing pleasure you’d never before, uniquelly brought by him… and suffer through the rest of your fucking disgraceful life without being able to taste it again once he’s done paying his debt. Because Osamu swears on his fucking name and whole life, he’ll never give it to you again.

He can see your future already and in it you’re fucked - both by him and for him, while he’s the one who gets away. The twin wonders if you ever lost anything like this in your life, can feel himself growing hard at being the one to make you cry. 

“Sure.” Osamu smiles, lopsided, the devil himself being safer than him. “I’ll give ya the taste ya deserve.” 

Your eyes press slightly closer in mistrust, the wicked intention pouring from his body so close to yours impossible to miss. Either way, it's your win; that’s exactly what you’ve been bargaining for, despite your game being rigged from the start. 

You bring your face close to his as if you were going to kiss him and you are delighted when his eyes go down, although not completely closed, his pupils focusing on your lips. 

You smile and retreat, turning to your men still positioned exactly where you left them, behind the bench where you were sitting previously. They remain so observant and sharp as ever, despite looking more like gargoyles than men.

“I’ll need a moment.” You tell them in a serious tone, calm. They both look at you for a second and nod, their stances changing very little despite it. You turn back to him but walk inside his establishment as if you own the place, pushing through the doors that lead to the back and inside his small, equipped kitchen. Osamu follows in silence, briefly wondering if he’d be able to snatch a knife and bury it in your chest. 

There’s not much outside cooking paraphernalia, with two big counters and taller than normal table in the center. You stop right in front of it, your hand threading over it for a moment. 

“That’ll do.” You say while you turn around to look at him. You look so strikingly bright in the middle of his rather normal kitchen, clad in both lavish clothes and unblemished skin; he wants so much to be able to say your sight doesn’t thrill him -- but he can’t lie to himself. 

But then you pointedly eye him and then the ground in front of you, “Kneel.”

Osamu considers his previous thought about burying a knife deep in your chest but walks, stiff, to where you indicated. He kneels with even less disposition than when he walked towards you, the descent slow until the ground’s hard tile is registered against his knee. He makes a point of looking into your eyes as he lowers, hatred overflowing in waves that seem to give you a sick satisfaction, your eyes becoming slightly out of focus.

The Miya’s about to ask what you’d want him to do next, like pledge himself or some shit, when your hands move to the hidden zipper on the side of your impeccable white pants. 

It drops to the floor in one go, displaying the graceful planes of your hips, appeasing spanse of flesh, a small triangle of silk hiding your most private parts. Saliva pools in Osamu’s mouth at the sight, his teeth pressing against one another to avoid betrayal. He’s still unsure of what’s his next step until your heel digs on his shoulder painfully, using him as leverage to prop yourself up on the high table. 

His eyes snap to yours while he bite his tongue to not curse you out loud.  There’s a gun on top of his head that is a big warning for Osamu to behave -- not that he’d have the chance to escape with the watchdogs outside his only exit. If he had, you could be dead already. 

Your suit threads up when you move up and slide on the table, the white silk panties peeking in between your open thighs. You move your beretta calmly off his face and thread it slightly, almost fondly, over your naked thigh. 

You make a small show of removing your finger from the trigger and depositing it far on the table, enough to be out of his reach and almost yours too. You look back at him once you’re empty handed and just so open right there on the table for him. 

“Behave, Osamu. You know you wouldn’t make it very far.”

Osamu grits his teeth but nods, your heel still supported on his shoulder but not digging on his skin anymore. You lay slightly back against his tabletop, forearms resting on the surface carefully. Dressed in a white, stylish suit like the last trend, the skin in between so bright it feels like a taunt, the curves of your breasts so ripe he wants to taste, the closed lapels looking like his own pathway to sin. He can feel his blood boiling, aggression throbbing, and he wants to paint you in red.

“Well then,” You start, happily above him, spread like a meal, “Show me if you’re good enough to pay your debt. Consider this your warrant.”

“Don’t worry.” Osamu drawls out with dripping distaste, his hand slowly, almost bored, threading up from your ankle to your knees. “I’ll fuck ya like you want it. Within an inch of your life.”

His hands lock on the back of your knees and he parts them forcefully, while you leave a yelp followed by laughter, your head thrown back with glee. 

You smell of flowers and spice, so expensive he was surprised that you weren’t dripping fucking gold. His palms slide through the back of your thigh and the skin under his fingertips is soft and firm, all shapes of heaven despite being in sole service of the devil. 

Osamu starts slowly, the table leaving you open just at the height of his neck while he’s kneeled on the ground, at the perfect height. His thumb presses on your skin while he holds one of your legs up, brings his lips to your knee. There’s a welcoming stain on your panties, and he scoffs at you despite the way his cock responds on his trousers. 

“I haven’t even started and you’re already wet?” The way you smile at him is both infuriating and bewitching. 

“What? Didn’t you enjoy our little foreplay earlier?” You tease him, plump lips locked under a row of teeth with mirth. His skin feels prickling and Osamu decides he needs more room, roughly pushing on your thighs until he can fit between them with room to spare.

It’s not fair, how good you feel, the delicious smell of your skin, the way your taunt alights him with fire in his veins. 

Osamu knows it’s bait -- and he’s willingly falling for it.

When his lips start to thread on the inner part of your knee and up, the twin does it with the intention to mark; he sucks instead of kissing, licks instead of caressing, and bites once he finds the plush meat of your inner thighs.

It stings and you let the smallest of sounds, but Osamu feels it in his gut, brings his hot tongue to soothe over it, bask in the way you tremble under his fingertips just enough for him to sink his teeth and revel in the pain on your groan. 

His nose treads along the furthest expanse of the joining of your thighs, touches the silk of your expensive panties, senses the way you tense and watches while your pussy trembles, even while still covered by fabric.

He considers holding back his tongue, but Osamu has never been the type to be held back by the threat of punishment. And you’ve shown to clearly enjoy his fiery side.

“Such an eager pussy right here, isn't it?” He threads his nose against the wet patch in the silk, carefully breathes against the covered lips. Osamu lets one of his shoulders bear one leg and brings his thumb to pass over the growing wet patch. “Sticky.” He presses it from the wetness to the place where your clit should be, watches as you respond to his touch with aborted movement. “Such a slut.” It’s supposed to be degrading, but there’s a hint of appreciation in his words that isn’t lost on you. “Is this all it takes for my debt? It’ll be finished in a second then.”

Your mouth opens to retort but closes in time to withhold a moan before it falls through your lips. His thumb’s pressing against your clit in tight circles while the index of his other hand threads over your covered cunt. Turns out Osamu has moves to back up the big talk. 

He’s methodical, clearly good and deft with his fingers, controlled pressure applied in a way that has you writhing on the table despite your intention to make this hard on him. Your desire to make him work for it, apparently, is no match for his. 

Osamu presses the tips of his fingers on your clothed entrance, enough force that it barely breaks inside you but the teasing has you churning on the table for him, legs trying to part beyond limits, body arching where it’s been relegated. Your chest feels hot and heavy despite the little clothing. You’re hoping for the moment where he’ll tease the hard nipples pressing against the flimsy lace of your bralet and the inside of your suit with the same intensity he’s depositing on your cunt.

Osamu, on the other hand, has no rush. You did this, gave this opportunity for him to wreck you, and he plans on enjoying it to the bitter end. He’s fairly surprised at how responsive you are, how quickly you melt for him, how vocal you can be despite doing little more than grunts and sighs. A thought flashes through his mind when he feels a renewed wave of wetness blossom against the fabric where his fingers are pressing, his lips turning in a self-satisfied smirk.

“Have you been so desperate for a good cock you’ve resorted to blackmail?” Your eyes snap open at his voice, a warm wave of something that you refuse to believe in being embarrassment depositing in your cheekbones. Osamu’s fingers prod harder against your entrance, fingers spreading against the wet fabric to your outer lips while his thumb keeps drawing endless circles around your clit. “Tsk, what a dirty move from an even dirtier slut.” 

He slaps your clit once, then twice, his bulking frame preventing you from closing your legs against the sudden pain. Your body trembles on unsteady forearms. You choke on a breath and then release a moan, the sound outrageous to Osamu even as his cock throbs from it. 

“Maybe I’ll give ya what you want.” The Miya teases, his voice sounding even despite the turmoil inside him. You look up at him with such eyes he could fool himself into thinking he wanted this. 

His fingers teether on the edge of your underwear, rough fingertips just daring to cross into the emanating heat. Your hips twitch, the emptiness inside you accentuated by your muscles clenching around nothing, desire pouring out against the prodding fingertips. Osamu snorts, throws you a hard stare that is equal parts fire and contempt. 

“You’re so wet. Are you enjoying this that much?” It drips acidic from his tongue against your neck, after he bends himself over you. From so close, Osamu’s warm breath is the same as a caress, his tongue teasing you with the way it threads over his lips but doesn't extend the courtesy to your skin. “You’re rather easy to rile up, hah? Or is it that you enjoyed playin’ with me before?” His teeth flash white above your head and you swallow around the desire of having them plunging on your skin. “How was it ya said? Foreplay, hah?”

You feel weirdly wound up inside your own skin, as if there’s not enough space and still a growing void inside you waiting for him to fill. It’s insane, it’s delicious, and a loud moan breaches your throat when Osamu plunges two fingers inside you without warning. 

Your body arches in such a curve your breasts press against his chest, the relieving brush too shallow to register in your brain when you’re hyper fixated on the sensation brewing inside you. 

It doesn’t even sting, instead you feel like your hunger escalates, fed by such little push that your want becomes need and for the first time in forever you actually consider asking for something. 

Your mouth opens, and Osamu snickers. “What?” He presses his thumb over your clit fast, relinquishes in the way you groan, feels the way your insides beg him to keep going. 

Still not enough though. He wants it ruined for you. 

“Maybe I’ll just make you cum on my fingers right here.” He spreads, scissor and twists them inside you, enjoying the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him at his every move. Osamu’s skin feels on fire, body overheating, and the way your lips turn up to reveal a line of white teeth in glee has his gut twisting. 

“You have a pretty loose tongue for such a quiet guy.” You look at him with semi-closed eyes, the victorious smile of the cat who got the mouse. “Maybe you like me more than you thoug--ahhhhh!”

Osamu shoves and prods around your insides for that special place even demons like you have and his assault is nothing short of merciless. Your eyes snap open at the force of his ramming, eyebrows furrowing at the way your pleasure seems to have forgone climb to skyrocket instead. Osamu watches in begrudging enchantment while your lips fall open to suck air into your breathless lungs and your eyes grow unfocussed, shoulders falling against the table so your hands can come to hold his arms but for what he doubts even you know. 

He’s not stopping. Until he does. 

You let out a noise like a wounded animal, tethering on the edge of mind numbing pleasure he won’t give you and when your body trembles from exertion of a denied orgasm instead of bliss, Osamu’s chest swells in pride.

“Whydidyoustop?” You lament in one breath, eyes are blinking back into focus, sweat and - oh he hopes those are tears - droplets dripping from the corner of your eyes while you turn to press your face on the cold metal surface of the table. “I was so close!” This time you rage, nails pressing against his skin enough to hurt.

“Wadidya mean?” Osamu tilts his head sideways, patronizing. “You didn’t ask for it. I’m just doing what you told me: being respectful.”

You laugh, still breathless, and turn to him in disbelief. “Fucker.”

“Not yet,” He corrects you, nuzzling his hips on your thighs. “Maybe if you ask nicely enough.”

Osamu retreats while you regulate your breath, letting your useless legs fall limp while both of his hands come to help your panties down, marveling at the way they’re peeled off your wet pussy lips. His cock aches and demands, but he’s used to reining in his dick. And he’s just started, anyway.

The Miya pushes you forward on the table, opening your legs wide like a treat. Your pussy is glistening, rhythmically calling for something to fill it while you leak. He plunges a finger back inside to watch you tremble, stimulation enough to make your eyes fall closed, long black lashes against beautiful sweaty skin. 

“Look at this.” Osamu plunges a second finger inside, opening them wide enough to sting. “What a desperate whore.” 

Your mind is swirling in urge, but you refuse to spill the words on your tongue. It would give you what you want, but at what cost? Osamu looks positively ferocious above you, dark eyes focused on your every move; it sends shivers through your spine, your body trembling and blossoming for him once again. You’re in your personal heaven, in company of the devil himself.

Osamu kneels again in front of your open legs, hook one on his shoulder while he holds the other thigh forcefully up with a grip so hard your muscle aches under his fingers. But you don’t care, in fact  you sigh “more” for him right as his breath teases your folds.

“No.” He tells you, two fingers pumping at leisure. His tongue slurps at your inner thigh, teeth closing in a bite with nothing to sooth. 

“Fuck.” You breathe out in a groan and his smirk is pronounced against your skin. 

Osamu, as you’re learning, is a tease.

His moves are soft, lacking in everything but aim; his tongue moves along the sensitive parts of your body you’ve never really cared for, like the plush flesh of your thighs, underside of your ass, the juncture of your groin. He has yet to taste you but you feel wounded, body constricted under weak ministrations, feather-like teases. It sinks with a piercing revelation that you could cum like this -- in an unfulfilled manner with not-good-enough touches that somehow have made your body feel raw like an exposed nerve in which the minimum touch would be enough to warrant waves of pleasure.

When his tongue comes to thread along your slit slowly, nose caressing along his way, your body clenches and threatens to spasm around unmoving fingers. You’re so close, so close, your body is ready to burst, fraying at the seams of a control you’re not using, your hands flying to try and find your clit at the same time Osamu’s eyes flash and he holds it, presses it forcefully against your belly while his lips slurp at your folds, circle your clit, but it’s so soft, it’s fucking unfair.

“Goddammit, Osamu!” You scream, enraged at the way your second orgasm flies away from you as his fingers leave your quivering hole, his mouth doing nothing more than lap at your overflowing juices with no real worry, no urgency.

“Oh, look at that.” The Miya smirks, drawing back up to look at your disheveled state; flustered, sweating, dripping and unattended. “You wanted a taste.” His hand comes back to your cunt, fingers thread along puffy lips. “I’m giving it to you.”

“You bastard.” His fingers leave your heat just to plunge inside again, a loud gushing sound following it. “Shit.” You sigh while falling back, and Osamu feels his cock throb once more at how breathless you sound. 

Your mind works around the feeling of being spread so far you feel as if you’re paper thin. Your mind goes rushing in its last attempt at working. Osamu looks self-satisfied, almost content, so you know where to hit. You want it, so you find a way to have it. 

“Oh, poor Miya--” You coo at him with a hoarse voice in glazed eyes, but the condescending tone is clear as day. “Are you trying to hurt me?” You plant a hand on his black hair, pulling at it enough to hurt.  “‘Cause I like pain.”

Fire explodes in his eyes and you tighten around his fingers in response, but other than his frown, Osamu remains calm. 

He slams three fingers inside before you can mouth any new words, smirks down at you with mischief when you tremble and bite your lips to hold the noises in, eyes falling back closed to hide the way they turn inside your skull. His other hand is holding your thigh forcefully open once again and his palm presses with hurtful intention, fingertips buried in your flesh so hard his digitals may mark you for days.

“Let you cum on my fingers and nothing else, is that going to be enough for you?” Osamu snarls against your ear, hot breath tickling your jaw. His hips hold you open to his assault at your pussy and his hand abandons your thigh to glide over your body and close around your throat. 

Osamu squeezes hard.

“Then again I could ruin your orgasm for the third time.” He bends over you, his lips right in front of your sight; eyes looking down at you with such fire you almost wonder if they’re the cause for the burn in your lungs. “Leave you writhing on the table, empty, until you learn to have a little respect.” 

This. 

Your lips spread in a smile almost maniacal, goosebumps rising on your skin as if you’re electrified. This is what you’ve wanted all along -- passion, fearless assault of words, electrifying pleasure; and also, the detachment, the murderous intent, all merging together in one perfect Osamu Miya. Shit, you think to yourself, at this hate you may actually come from his teasing alone.

“You talk too much for someone who didn't make me cum yet.” You pour gasoline into his fire. 

Osamu pulls you up by the lapels of your suit, button flying open at the hastiness, your breasts protected by such a flimsy piece of lace you’re surprised it doesn’t turn to ash at his stare. Your hard nipples mark the white bralet, the air feeling cold at how hot they are. 

A hand covered in your juices closes on your cheeks, forcefully opening your lips at the threat of pain, his fingers with lingering heat from your insides.

“Such a big mouth, should I shut you up?” Osamu asks you, eyes boring on yours. The plea is on the point of your tongue as if he’d shoved his hand inside you to yank it himself, and it tips out when his dark eyes steal one single snippet of your smeared red lips open by his hands.

“Fuck me.” 

He nods negatively, presses hard enough that your teeth could cut your inner cheeks. He relents and your tongue grazes your lips, moistening them for his eyes.  

Osamu smiles, a tilt of his lips up but so earnestly you’re almost hopeful, then: “No.” 

Even if as he says it, it’s a lie. He knows he’ll fuck you, but right now he’s enjoying the build-up, toying with you as if you’re his plaything and not the opposite. You growl and curse, head falling back when he palms at your covered breasts, push the lace up, hears the way it strains and threatens to rip. 

It’s oddly relatable -- Osamu also feels taut, stretched around a fleeting control that he feels will slip with one dip inside you. His past sexual experiences involved partners who he cherished and few one-night stands which, for the small time his dick was inside them, he was mindful and cared for their pleasure. 

Right now, while he pinches and palm at your body, he has not a single worry about your pleasure and all the concern about his. This is for him. He bends his head over your bosom, sucks a nipple inside the hot cave of his mouth and bites. As his cock twitches and aches inside his trousers, he relishes in the pained noises you leave, even when they’re marked by breathless arousal.

“You sure are fucked up. Look how much you’re enjoying this.” His fingers force the howl of your cheeks, feeling your teeth nicking the insides of your mouth even through layers of flesh. There’s an infuriating elation in your expression, and Osamu retaliates by sucking harshly on your skin, teeth finding soft places to close on.

You moan loudly and his hand slides back onto your throat in the motion. Your hand shots up from the table to find his hard dick and your laugh makes his blood boil. “Clearly I’m not the only one.”

His heartbeat spikes at the words, even if Osamu knows it. The twin pulls the suit jacket half-down your arms and slams your body on the slight cold surface of the metal table, noise sounding thunderous but still no one comes after you. 

Your skin erupts in goosebumps at the aggression, blood flying so fast through your heart you feel lightheaded. You’re about to spit some more fire into Osamu when two of his fingers gag you, other hand descending on your ass with such force and so unexpectedly your legs give out, dangling from the table as if you’re a ragdoll.

Something remarkably close to a whine turning sob slides through your throat and dies at Osamu’s fingers, just as something big and hot surges over your ass cheeks. Something coils on your chest, the emotion makes your eyes water and for a moment you blink it away, thanking the new position doesn’t let Osamu catch that. 

Too soon. Osamu pulls your head back as his hand peels the globes of your ass apart and before you can breathe, the little air inside you is being knocked out with one thrust of Osamu’s hip.

He forces his dick inside you, tearing you open as your walls make way for his aggression, wetness dripping while Osamu fills you to the hilt, because yes, that's what you want. You want his hate, his passion, you want Osamu to tear you apart while you enjoy every second of it.

“‘Samu!” His name is on your lips as your eyes roll back, whole body tensing until you’re falling, just like that. 

Then he retreats. “Fuck! Fuck no!” This time it’s a wail, a sob as your third orgasm turns to ashes, your insides trembling with nothing to hold, empty and meager pleasure. 

“Wha--Cummin’ already? Nope.” The twin laughs above you, hands tilting your head painfully back. “So embarrassing.” Osamu mocks you and you swear you can feel a renewed wave of cream slide down your insides to greet the head of his cock, nudging along your swollen lips. Your tongue feels so heavy on your mouth, parched and breathless all at once, no way out but silence. 

“You are disgusting, you know that? Such a greedy fucking pussy doesn’t deserve to be this tight.” 

Your laugh turns into a deep moan when Osamu hits deep inside you. “God yes.” You twist one hand out of the suit’s sleeve just to pull him by the hem of his blouse, your nails digging against the skin of his neck, blooming red yelts. “Talk shit to me Osamu. I know you have better lines.”

“Fuck you.” The twin spits, his hips pistoning harder against yours until he just stops the motion, leaves you open and gapping for him to fill you again. “Of course a pig like ya has the hots for humiliation. Look at that, the slut’s pussy squeezing around my dick because she thinks I'm doing this for her pleasure.” His hand comes down on the other side of your ass, where he hasn't hit yet. It stings, but the way his palm massages and grabs at it before almost soothes the burn. “Disgusting sluts don’t get to say anything, not even begging will get you what you want. I decide what you get."

You look back from your shoulder to see his cock is standing proud and angry, swollen head shining red and dripping translucent white, as if he hadn't been wet from your juices before. Osamu’s big, especially thick and he presses inside you again without giving you time to adjust, unforgiving pace right from the start.

You curse at the way one of your hands keeps locked behind you by your suit, your nails digging on your own skin without anything else to find purchase on; the other tries to grab onto Osamu to no avail, falling on the table to help support yourself at the strength of his pounding.  Your mouth is open, divided between sucking breaths and puffs of air. Osamu’s hand has since found purchase in your neck, the way he forces it back painful, the pressure on your throat growing and ceasing as he wishes. 

Still, you can’t think. Your mind is lost in a sea of searing pleasure, your nipples pressed against the metal surface as Osamu finally fucks you as you’ve been dreaming. No, maybe even better. The past men you’ve fucked had all been afraid of hurting you, careful with retaliation. As Osamu fists your hair and forcefully presses you against the table; you think you may be having a religious experience. Your eyes water from the force of his manhandling, tears spilling while you left unbelievable noises fall from your lips. You want to scream and laugh, a hot sensation spreading from your fingertips to your core. 

The wave of the orgasm is forming quickly, your toes curling against the insides of your Louboutins enough to hurt, the incessant pounding of Osamu’s hips against your ass sounding downright pornographic. As the peak approaches, doubt gnaws at your chest for the first time in forever. 

The simple thought of Osamu robbing you of your orgasm this time is enough to make your whole body tremble and recoil, your mind too slow to catch on to his intentions. You consider biting your tongue to hold the plea in, but as you bolt into mind-blowing pleasure you’ve never even imagined before, the alternative feels like dying.

You’re tethering the edge and you feel Osamu pressing harder against you, and you break. “Please!” You cry out, “Pleasepleaseplease, don’t stop.” His movements slow down and halt, and the hand on your ass slides around you, a single finger taps repeatedly on your swollen clit. 

“Say it.” He all but howls at your ear, bites on it for good measure.

“Please, ‘samu, let me fucking cum!” You beg but you’re already falling over, whole body shuddering just from the way he nudges his hips against your ass and taps on your sensitive bundle of nerves. Panic surges in between your pleasure that he’ll ruin this one when he retreats from your quivering insides, but Osamu rams back inside you with such power that your head rattles, hips hurting from the impetus of his fucking. 

Sound rings in your ear while you drown in the thunderous waves of your pleasure for what feels like forever. It flows and flows and flows to a point you can’t tell if you’re seeing black or just closed your eyes. 

Osamu watches, enthralled, how you go completely boneless under him. Your insides have stopped squeezing him tight but his hard, aching cock still throbs inside your heat. It’s honestly unbelievable how tight you feel around him, how fantastic he feels buried balls deep inside your walls. He had to stop trying to fuck you through your orgasm in worry he’d may cum. Poison and pleasure curl in his chest at the thought. Osamu feels like spanking you, choking you, to punish you for this undeserving heaven you have between your thighs.  

But he’s not done yet.

Osamu retreats, the slide of his cock leaving your delicious walls -- cold air from outside so less welcoming -- and you sag on the table. He pulls you up on unsteady legs and smirks, proud. Your bare feet touch the ground and Osamu spins you around, swallowing on a tight throat after one look at your disheveled blissful state, but then he retreats and let’s you collapse to the ground.

The image of your legs sliding open on the cold tiled floor, unsteady hands finding purchase to hold your torso up while your head looks up at him in outrage is one he sears in his mind, a wicked satisfaction sliding over his spine at the sight alone. The wreck of you at his feet, by his hands, nothing short of perfect. 

His cock throbs and pulses in front of your eyes, dragging your attention and Osamu steps closer, poses one hand on the top of your head, ruins the rest of your styled hair by dragging fingertips in it. 

 You’re still lightheaded, shockwaves making you twitch on the cold floor and Osamu is elated at how wrecked you look, makeup smeared, hair disheveled, body holded up by unsteady arms. Your lips are open, between breathless pulls of air and heavy exhales, but Osamu doesn't care, hands forcefully tugging your hair back and angling your mouth at his swelled cockhead. He counts as a win that you don’t bite him, your tongue threading flat on the underside of his length as he buries himself on your throat. 

There’s resistance, so the Miya retreats, forcing it back a few other times until it finally slides a few inches more inside. While he maintains the force over your hair, his other hand engulfs your chin, thumb breaching your lips to hold your mouth open despite the fact you don’t make any move to close it. 

It feels his chest with acidic bitterness that you welcome his aggression, glazed, tearful eyes looking up at him as if the fact he’s using you as little more than a cocksleeve is the brightest part of your day. Still, Osamu’s skin feels close to tearing under the sheer amount of pleasure flooding his insides. His hairs are standing on end, heart beating so fast his lungs burn, every muscle on his body tensed at his mindless pursuit of his high. He buries his cock deep inside the tight space of your throat, your gurgles and groaning enhancing his sensation. It looks painful to you to hold him inside, tears ending your makeup, face turning red at the lack of air. He closes both hands behind your head, making you nuzzle his pelvis even as your nails close on his thighs threatening to break skin.

He retreats to let you breathe just as your eyes go unfocused, feels something squeezing inside as you cough and wheezes and his throat squeezes a large gulp of air when you look up at him, tongue hanging out with a wide-open mouth just offered for him.

Osamu feels like hurting you at how good you are, infuriatingly obedient and willing to be at the end of his aggression. So he buries himself back inside at one go, both hands holding your head for him. There’s too much chaos inside of him, so he decides to pour some out through words.

“You like being used like this, huh? Like little more than a fucking cocksleeve for me.”

“What is it? Does being in power make you this needy? Does being wrecked make you feel this good?” Your groan makes your throat tighter around him, your eyes rolling back from his fucking and degradation.

It’s unfair, infuriatingly so, that this might be the most unbelievable great sex he ever had. 

Osamu can’t hold back much longer, everything feeling just too good, his skin burning at the stretch of the tourbillion of emotions inside his chest, the captivating sight of tears dropping from your jaw and coating your long lashes as your face darkens by the lack of air, swollen lips stretched beyond capacity around his cock while you willingly let him go harder, faster, into your tight throat. There’s a warm sensation flowing from his limbs to his spine, melting his bones and weighing on his balls until it spreads over Osamu’s whole being.

He pulls back from your throat in time but presses his hands on your jaw and hair to keep you up and open as he coats your wrecked face with hot spurts of cum -- the final touch to the perfection of your wrecked image at his feet.

It lands haphazardly over your lips and even your eyelashes, tear-stained mess of a face marked by his essence. Osamu tells himself he could never feel anything towards you, but for a second there’s a hint of territorial pride at how you look -- and how it is all his doing. The twin is still swimming in searing pleasure as you lick over your lips, hands almost fondly landing over his as if you're assuring him that he can let go.

He does, trying to step back and slowly descending onto the ground when his knees give out. His eyes are glued to how his cum is dripping from your chin onto your chest, how you bring your fingers to sweep over it and end it by cleaning the digits with your tongue. If Osamu’s cock wasn’t so spent, he’s sure it’d swell right back up at the sight alone.

“Can’t say what’s better,” your hoarse voice is barely above a murmur, “the taste or the feeling.”

As you’re standing on unsteady legs and already fixing yourself while he sits on the floor questioning his life choices, Osamu feels as if he’d made a deal with the devil, and you’ll be coming back to collect his soul.

“Seems like the start of a nice partnership, doesn’t it?” 

-- 

#osamu miya smut #osamu miya #osamu miya hq #haikyuu smut #tw dubcon #thesmutpilecollab #hq fanfic #osamu miya x reader

[af1899]

FEH - My themed teams

Themed teams are part of the fun in Fire Emblem Heroes for me, as it's a way to put favorites together and even make a full team with all/some of their variants, while most of my teams are purely technical (i. e.: of a movement type, for a specific event, for lead units friends can use, etc.), I have made 5 themed teams that I keep and love, feel free to check them out right below, along with a few facts about me as a bonus:

She's so precious she has her own team! 💜🥺

One of my biggest favorites and a true sweetheart, I'm fond of both the original design and the revamp on FEH and the Cipher, she's too lovable and wholesome.

Her Fallen alt is indeed a project of mine but not one I use much, once Julia gets a colorless version, I'll replace this alt out in the team.

The best team ever

It includes my three most appreciated characters in the Fire Emblem series as well as Sara who I'm strongly fond of from Thracia 776.

I like green too

I sort of have a knack for this color in long hair, and fortunately, the cast in the series is not short of them. The designs are all beautiful and unique, plus each of them feels rather soothing to look at.

Annand and Erinys are specially noteworthy because they're both sisters actually, and they both are on the good side but only one of them is playable in Genealogy of the Holy War.

Despite Annand being a minor character, I always wanted to play a game in which she's officially playable, and this is one of the good things in Heroes: normally non-playable characters can actually be under your command and this game is free and easy to get around, which is nice.

Annand would probably be the biggest surprise here, I always quite liked her design and strong-willed yet kind personality, not exactly Julia-like though, but she's still a friendly girl. I was happy to see that I.S. remembered her.

The one and only rainbow tome theme so far

For appreciation post detailing why I like her so much, refer to it in here.

This team was made to celebrate her Legendary alt's addition and early acquisition soon after my birthday, as well as the completion of my first full rainbow team with same character.

Did I mention that I love how she smiles?

The sweetest team

I tried to aim for one girl of each color, based on these conditions:

Angelical designs: these girls all inspire calmness and possess a feature that strongly reminds me of angels.

Personality: it's mandatory that they show genuine kindness/tenderness/calmness in some form of another.

Sophia might look like the least fitting member here, and can't blame you if you think that way tbh, it's just that I was in need of a red member so that I didn't have to put OG Julia (because I've already placed a unit of her class) so I went with Sophia to complete the gang.

She's actually a dark magic user and a half-dragon, half-human girl, but she's so calming to look at and talk, showing also a great deal of wisdom, specially to matters related to her homeland in Nabata, Elibe.

Might put Hoshidan Summer Micaiah here later since she seems to fit the concept even better, but Idk for now, I'm happy with the team as it is.

And there's something in common among all of them

Yes, all those teams include only female characters, this is more about me so if you were only interested in the themed teams, don't read any further.

Anyway...

While it could just be said that it's because of natural attraction, that's not exclusively true and I'd like to say there's a deeper reason to it than only that.

Actually, I've always felt like I could overcome more of my own socialization problems Irl, when trying to talk to a girl rather than with a guy, during my studies at both high-school and school, I was often called for by my male classmates for making verbal jokes, and sometimes guys from other grades too (leading me to think they weren't genuine friends and some were rough or too tiresome to interact with). A few of them were actual friends which is nice, and were there for me and viceversa, but oftenmost I found myself more comfortable around girls, and even feeling confident to try to talk to the ones I used to feel shy to approach.

At least, this is how I believe my interest on fictional female character stems from, because I feel a similar sentiment and they often feel more approachable or friendlier than a guy, but this doesn't mean that I will never train a single guy in any given game there are some playable, or refuse the idea of a male-only game if there's fun awaiting, like on Team Fortress 2 which actually seems like fun.

For example, I'm very fond of Leif from Fire Emblem: Thracia 776, to the point I think of him as the best [Lord], and he is. He's not your usual [Lord], because unlike most of them, Leif was forced to flee from his hometown to rescue his closer allegiances (Nanna and Mareeta) from Raydrik's forces and had little resources to obtain and use later in his quest through Thracia (often having to capture enemies and take their possessions), he often had to watch the dire and unfair situation in his homeland, the southern half, suffering due to the infertile lands unlike the north. He's a good guy with a strong heart and disposition to learn new things, specially since he's well aware he's unable to wield the weapon of one of the Twelve Crusaders unlike his sister, who he didn't even know he had. His studious and diligent nature manifests in his promotion in FE4, which is why he becomes such a powerhouse able to use most non-preference weapons.

I also like Lex, he's a friendly guy with a playful and somewhat caring side, teaming up with Azelle since he was worried Azelle went off alone to help Sigurd and they're both quite close friends.

Veld is also kind of interesting, he's the big cheese behind nearly everything evil going on in Thracia, and sadly he's an easy boss, which seems a waste for such epic battle theme:

Eliwood also seems like the kind of guy I'd like and Hector is often fun to interact with, I specially like his dialogues with Oswin, they're real fun. (Oswin for FEH when?)

And I could go on but this is something I wanted to talk about me.

Thank you!

It sure was quite a long post, was it not? But I do hope you've come to enjoy reading it and thanks so much for checking it out!

#feh #fe heroes #fire emblem heroes