#it's mostly used to dialogues between two

[strang3lov3]

Hi, @pyros-hollow. Let's clear the air.

On May 5th, you sent me these anon messages: 

This is how I responded to you: 

The next day, you messaged me privately to apologize for making me uncomfortable. I thanked you for your apology, and reiterated that I did not mind if you wanted to write the same trope as me, but that I would like my versions of these works to remain mine. I expressed that I would have preferred if you had talked to me first. 

I read your fic, I mentioned that I noticed a lot of similarities to my own writing, but that plagiarism can be tricky when you’re admittedly very inspired by another writer. I told you that this is where communication plays a huge role in avoiding these uncomfortable situations. Finally, I told you that I would like it if you unlinked your story from mine on ao3, and that you and I could work together to fix the parts that feel too close for comfort. 

Initially I told you I would highlight portions I felt could be fixed. Upon rereading your story, I told you that it was not just specific lines, but it was the overall tone, structure, and premise that, in my opinion, strongly mirrored my writing. I told you I recognize that interpretation is subjective, but with all of this combined - emotional inflection, the way scenes are framed, sometimes dialogue and even the narrative voice that the story was written in - to me, closely echoed what I wrote. I told you it felt like a paraphrasing rewrite of my writing with slight changes. 

I reiterated again that I do not own these tropes or general ideas, but the way they are expressed is something that is unique to every writer. I told you that my intention with this conversation was not to discourage you from writing, but to help you see the line between being inspired by work and unintentionally recreating it. I asked that instead of changing things line by line, to consider how you would write that story in the case that you had not read my work. 

You bucked me every step of the way. You were not receptive to any of my advice, and you came up with multiple excuses to sidestep taking responsibility for your mistake. So finally, I told you that I was uncomfortable with this conversation, so I would be removing myself from the situation. I wished you the best with your writing going forward. Then, I blocked you. I did not talk about this on tumblr beyond answering your anon above.

You messaged me on Discord afterward, telling me that you felt horrible about making me uncomfortable. I did not respond to you. 

Three days after this interaction, you posted this: 

You responded to anons mostly in favor of me, but some in favor of you, too. You also posted screenshots of our private conversation, which is against Tumblr’s terms of service. 

You also admitted to making these harassing posts out of  “petty revenge”. 

At this point, my friend messaged you in good faith and advised that you take down these posts tagged with #drama and other things like that, understanding that this was a painful situation for us both, but that your choice to post these things was harmful for all parties involved. You were receptive to her, and took down these posts. 

But by the end of May, you were sending anons about me to the confessions blog. The specific use of the word “greedy” gave you away. You used that word multiple times when you posted about me on your own blog. 

These last two “confessions” were posted within the last couple days.

You were careless enough to like some of the posts on the confessions blog (these ones or other ones I can’t remember) which is why you were blocked by my friend who messaged you to take down those posts, as well as some other people. We’re not a clique, btw. Besides that one friend who messaged you, nobody knew what happened between you and I. 

So, to sum it all up - you have: 

Intentionally or not, plagiarized my fic. I attempted to deal with this privately, but…

YOU took things public, posting about me in an attempt to validate yourself or send hate to me. You posted screenshots of our private conversation - again, something that goes against Tumblr’s terms of service.

You have publicly interacted with the confessions blog, which more writers beyond just me block - something they are well within their right to do.

You’ve also written incest, lol. No judgment here, obviously. I do think it’s interesting you want sympathy from the kink-shaming confessions blog to validate yourself. They think you’re just as disgusting as I am.

And publicly admitted to using AI to write your fics 👇

And you’re bent out of shape that people are blocking you. That is a result of your own behavior.

I did not want to make this a public thing. I let it go until now, because you can’t. But since you want to make this public, let’s make this public. Let everyone see the role you played in this situation. I was patient with you. I was generous. I was kind. You made me uncomfortable, and I tapped out of the situation - this is how you chose to retaliate.

For someone who claimed to love me and respect me so much, this sure doesn’t feel like it. And I get that you’re my number one hater now - cute, btw. I’m glad you’re so proud of that. But I don’t think you ever respected me to begin with. Your behavior is appalling.

[patchworkcuddlebug]

A Good Witch Introduces Itself

[A sequel to The Doll Spell.]

Coven meetings are spectacles just as much as they are shindigs. Witches, connected by anything from fields of study to simple comradery, gather together to boast and gossip and drink tea. Their dolls work together to prepare the venue and provide the refreshments.

The dollwitch hovers on the outskirts of the entrance, unsure of which crowd to introduce itself to first.

"Would you like this one to come with you, Miss?" says Dolly, lingering just behind. That one places her hand on the dollwitch's back, trying to soothe it.

"No, but... thank you." The dollwitch relaxed its shoulders a bit, still using both hands to hold its cloak tighter around itself. "This one knows it needs to tell the others at some point, but it just... doesn't know how they'll react."

Dolly nuzzles her head against its Miss, and it sighs with just a little relief. "If they're really your coven, they'll accept you." The dollwitch leans its head back to match, thanking the (other?) doll again. It's not much, but the sentiment helps.

So, the dollwitch enters through the front door.

This month's meeting was being hosted by The Paint Witch. Her manor was rather non-standard compared to others that this one has seen before. Of course, it was adorned with furniture that seemed esoteric and avant-garde, legs with mismatched angles and wallpaper with discordant colouring. Certain splotches of the decor still seemed wet, yet more creations slowly coagulating and budding from them.

The Cat Witch is the first of the coven to notice this one's presence. Her confused double-take causes the others to pause their conversation and turn their attention completely.

The dollwitch marched, docile and demure, to the circle of customized and ornate furniture circled around the fireplace. It hovered in the rim of the circle, standing at attention.

"Hello everyone." It bowed. "This one was once The Mirror Witch, but now it is just a-"

"MIRROR?!" The Paint Witch leapt forward in her chair, seeming to smile with bemusement as she yelled over the other witches' murmurs of shock. "Oh my god, that's your hat! What the fuck?! What happened to you?"

"This one made an error in its spell, and... became." Its hands, once clasped together in curtsy, start to pull at its cloak again as some of the others begin to give it looks. Surprise, judgment, dismissal... looks.

"You... used to be The Mirror Witch." The Cloth Witch tilted her head. She leaned ahead with a quizzical look, snuggling closer with the ever-still ragdoll in her lap. "Do you have a new name, then?"

"Do not humour this, Cloth." The Gold With commanded, stoic and statuesque. "This is a curse. We do nothing but waste time by pretending that she's a doll."

"It, um..." It's never had a witch call it a doll before. Another witch, it means. It tries not to dwell on the feeling. "This one has been called Miss. That is what Dolly has been calling it, and dolls shouldn't pick their names, so... uh... yeah."

"Oh, you're still a miss, huh? Not a lil' obedient doll~?" The Cat Witch teased, leaning on the arm of her chair towards the dollwitch.

It shudders, trying to keep its feelings at bay. There's no time to consider how that made this one feel. "No Miss, this one-"

Gasps and giggles as the witches looked at each other.

"Um, this... Dolly is still obedient to this one, these two just act... together." It locks eyes with the fireplace, leaning its head forward to hide under its hat.

"Okay, so you're still magic and stuff." says The Paint Witch, nodding along with herself. "You just don't, like, use it as much?"

"Well, magic doesn't give her that little hit of pleasure from following her... its purpose." The Cat Witch leaned forward, an inquisitive eyebrow raised.

"Do not be so disrespectful." says The Gold Witch with a tone of sincere admonishment. "She is going through enough, being trapped in that thing."

"Oh, of course, we should probably help her change back, then?" The Cloth Witch chimes in, seeming too relaxed.

The dollwitch blinked itself out of stillness. Being talked about instead of talked to had never felt so reassuring before. "Oh! Um, yes, it... can still manage some parlour tricks, but nothing nearly as strong as a witch should..." it trailed off, caught in new sensations. It felt... appropriate to admit that it was essentially powerless compared to a proper witch, deferring to their might and capabilities. It quickly shook the feeling off, insisting to itself that it consider the other witches as equals, lest they look again.

"Yeah, yeah." The Cat Witch waves a hand dismissively, choosing its next words with playful care. "If you want, I can stop you from being a doll~"

"Hush, you." The Gold Witch looked unamused. "I'll build her a sculpture she can haunt. Of course, it may take some work to make it move..."

"What? That's just a doll again. I'll paint her a body." says The Paint Witch, mostly sounding confused.

"Goldie, can I help you with the structure, then?" The Cloth Witch chimes, pulling out a handkerchief out of her ragdoll's pocket and making it bend and twist with her magic. "Golden bones, cloth skin... maybe we can work together on the joints?"

"That's literally a doll." The Paint Witch huffs. "Are you guys even listening to me? There's no point in making something inorganic, she needs something that's hu-"

"It." The dollwitch blurts, eyes to the floor. "Please."

There's a pause. The witches wait for another to speak.

"You're... right, Paint." The Cloth Witch says, placing its handkerchief back. Her voice was cautious, yet compassionate. "If we're going to make a new body for... that one, then she ne- sorry, it needs something grown from scratch."

"Or we steal one."

"Cat, please."

"Guess we gotta ask another coven, huh." said The Paint Witch, resigned. "We're out of our domains. I'll call a doll to get started on a letter."

"Um!" the dollwitch chimed in, answering the witch's need as a good doll should. "This one, can..." it trailed off, not wanting to embarrass itself further.

"Yes, oh my god, you totally have to." The Cat Witch snickered as it shifted positions in her chair again.

"We are not making her lower herself further. She is already going through enough." The Gold Witch commanded to the others.

"Yeah, but like, it is a doll, though, right?" wondered The Paint Witch, hand to her chin. "It probably really wants to."

"Well, the poor thing's probably dealing with a doll's urges." The Cloth Witch figured. "Suppose it'd be helpful if we did assign h... a special task, then. To that one."

The Cat Witch pointed at The Gold Witch. "Haha, get outvoted, loser."

With calm and poise, "I am going to entomb you."

"Use the writing desk I've got upstairs." Said The Paint Witch, pointing behind the dollwitch. "S'in my study."

"Yes," don't say miss, "Thank you." do NOT say miss.

It heard the others continue on as it obeyed, taking dainty steps. "You should not let a doll use your private study." "C'mon, it's Mirror, who cares." "I'd feel awkward with her just standing there, anyway."

. . . . .

"Oh, Miss!" Dolly calls out, running up to her witch, and her fellow doll. The other dolls were bustling behind it, cleaning their stations and packing their things in preparation for their witches to call for them. "How did it go?"

The dollwitch hesitates in the doorway of the Doll's Quarters, as it's frowned upon for witches to enter. "It... didn't go well." its face shied away.

Dolly stepped into the manor proper, its hand instinctively reaching for Miss's. "Oh, this one is sorry to hear that. Would you like to talk about it?"

"No... please." it shrunk away, pulling its hand into itself.

"Oh, of course. This one understands." Dolly takes its hand back. "Is there anything else this one can do for you?"

The dollwitch couldn't bring itself to look at Dolly. "Could you please call this one... Mirror? Just for today."

Dolly nods, a smile on its face. "Anything for you, Mirror."

It... doesn't feel like a good doll. But it doesn't want to, just for now.

The dolls cuddle closer. "You're the best doll this one could ask for."

"And you're the best witch this one could ask for, Mirror."

[wonderjanga]

Can I Please be Your Friend?

Billy doesn’t have friends. Between being Marvel and working odd jobs, he hasn’t really had the time some. So when he got invited to join the newly formed Justice League. He was ecstatic! Sure, these people were at least a very minimum of 20 years older than him and sure they would probably talk about taxes and stuff, but superhero friends! Meanwhile, the Justice League is like, “wow this guy is so social. I like it!”

Marvel: “You have a lighthouse…?” *sounds so amazed*

Aquaman: “Yeah. My dad was a lighthouse keeper so I got it when he passed.”

Marvel: “That’s so awesome! Can I come over?”

Aquaman: “Oh, okay? Sure?” *a little surprised he asked but eh whatever*

That was how Arthur spent the day showing Cap around the lighthouse. The man was a really good listener and was surprisingly very interested in listening to Arthur talk about how to use the light. You couldn’t even ask Arthur how they both ended up jumping off the railings of the lighthouse of dive into the water. You also couldn’t ask him how they ended up having a water fight, with the Atlantean calling for some sea creatures as back up. You also also couldn’t ask him how shocked a hotdog vendor was when he saw Captain Marvel and Aquaman, both of which who are supposed to be revered heroes, soaked, looking like wet dogs, asking for a couple of hotdogs after they nearly caused a tidal wave.

They got scolded by Batman a little while later for acting like children and almost causing the previously mentioned tidal wave. It was a little funny to see Batman scolding a man a solid two feet taller than him.

Soon after that whole incident, Marvel went to befriend Martian Manhunter next.

Marvel: *staring at J’onn while holding a box of cookies*

MM: *can hear him thinking about how to approach him and looks over to Marvel*

Marvel: *thinks a little too loudly and J’onn hears a nearly deafening “FRIEND”*

MM: *flinches and clutches his head* “Captain. Is something the matter.”

Marvel: “Oh uh…” *walks over and looks between the cookies and J’onn* “I was uh- wondering if you wanted to eat these with me.”

And that’s how J’onn spent the rest of the afternoon eating cookies with Marvel. J’onn had at first thought Marvel was quiet because he was something humans called awkward. But no, every now and then, when J’onn forgot that humans preferred to keep their thoughts private, he��d hear how happy Marvel was that he accepted. He’d also heard a couple other voices which was slightly concerning. He didn’t know if that was normal for humans or not.

Then, the next was Batman. Bruce honestly didn’t even know how they had started talking about this. All he knows is that they were talking about the team’s performance in the field, then that somehow transitioned into talking about superheroes in general, which then somehow led to fictional superheroes, which led to now:

Marvel: “Oh, you like Gray Ghost?”

Batman: “I was… a fan of him when I was a child.” *doesn’t know why he’s telling Marvel this*

Marvel: “Cool! Did you see the movies?”

From there on was a forty minute yapping session about Gray Ghost, his lore, the movies, the comics, the action figures, and so on.

Marvel: “I even had his comics as a kid too.”

Batman: “Really? Reprints or originals?”

Marvel: “I wanna say originals? What do you mean by reprints though?”

Batman: “Reprinting is when they take a comic, and remake it to look a little better, such as brighter colors or slightly tweaked dialogue, so they can sell it again.”

Marvel: “Oh. Then I’d say I probably have originals then.”

Batman: “Interesting. Those are collectors items now. They go for thousands.”

Marvel; “Really?!” *eyes nearly bug out of his skull* “Huh. I had no idea. Which ones did you have?”

Batman: “Mostly reprints. But I do have a couple originals on display.”

So yeah. The two were geeking out and stuff. Bruce honestly has literally no one to talk about this with so he’ll admit he was a little (a lot) happy.

We can’t forget the other JL heroes though.

Flash: “Like, he is so nice, and for what?”

GL: “I know right he let me ramble for like 45 minutes about planes! He was asking questions too!”

Supes: “And he’s always willing to help with anything. I didn’t even get to finish asking if he could cover my monitor shifts before he said yes.” *sounds slightly guiltily (he still feels bad for asking)*

In conclusion, Billy really wants to be friends with these guys, and his methods are definitely working.

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Lowlife Princess

Act Two: The Joker is one hell of a force to be reckoned with, especially when it comes to his precious girlfriend. Or — You and Jeong Yunho are perfect for one another.

❥Jeong Yunho x fem reader

"They became the King and Queen of Gotham City — and God help anyone who disrespected the Queen."

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut with plot, gotham au

♫soundtrack♫

SERIOUSLY 18 AND OLDER. MINORS TAKE YOUR LEAVE.

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: not beta read, sugar baby reader / obsessive joker yunho, daddy kink outside of sex, possessive behavior, reader wears skirts and dresses because yun likes it but he doesn't make her, yunho goes above and beyond to help reader get revenge, kidnapping, the couple who tortures together stays together aka they torture someone (not detailed, mostly off screen), reader showing just how crazy she can be, recounting murder of family members, smoking and trying to quit (again, yun), emotional vulnerability, causal nudity, reader stalked / threatened / held hostage briefly, physical violence (not towards reader), blood, murder, crazy ass yunho laughing while he kills someone / crazy ass reader gets turned on by it.

smut warnings: very long smut scenes, soooo much more sex than act one; both have high sex drives and now there's no holding back- 😭 general: rough dom yunho, so many pet names (baby, princess, pretty girl, doll, love, angel, sweetie (variations of little, poor, sweet, dumb / stupid, needy, all used affectionately) ), daddy kink + ddlg themes, hardcore dacryphilia, size difference!!, he has a habit of edging himself, overstimulation, yunho likes when reader is a bit mean, praise + kind of condescending yunho, EXTREMELY possessive dialogue (going both ways), cunnilingus, unprotected (wrap it before you tap it), dumbification, spit, matching each others freak on an astronomical level, lowkey marathon sex, yunho king of dirty talk, squirting, spanking + slapping, choking !!! manhandling !!! hardcore sex !!! they are freak nasty !!! 1: brief somnophilia (yun wakes reader up with head), gentle to rough, yunho makes reader scream his name + say she belongs to him, intense morning sex, orgasm control, talk about fantasies including cnc + free use / exhibitionism / anal / throat training 2: brief somno (reader wakes yun up with head), i went maybe a smidge too detailed while describing his cock... cock worship ! kind of ball worship, hand job, hand kink goes both ways, face + throat fucking / head pushing, tongue in ear action (don't look at me-), mid sex love confession, messy make out, slight cnc: yunho 'makes' reader take more than she can handle but she can stop him at any time, fingering, aftercare wooohoo !

➯a/n: dAYYYUM YALL CALM DOWN kkkkk but in all seriousness thank you, i am really proud of this story so im glad people like it so far ! im just as crazy for joker yunho as you guys lol aaand tag list at the bottom because i legit ran out of room above the cut from the warnings 🥲 enjoy and let me know what you think <3

♡masterlist + navigation !♡

ꕥ

You wake up sore. Muscles aching, hips tender. And you feel like you're about to fall into a warm pool of ecstasy. Tears are already welling up in your sleep hazed eyes.

"Good mornin', doll." Yunho's voice reaches you muffledly, and you quickly find why when you lift your heavy head off the pillow and find him lying between your legs.

At some point last night, he came home with you. Stayed with you and held you until you both fell asleep.

"Yunie?" You moan sleepily, slumping back into the mattress. "What're you doing?"

"Breakfast~" He chuckles, giving your slit a long, slow lick that makes you shiver. "I told you I wanted to spoil your pussy, didn't I?"

You let out a little whine, melting beneath his tongue as he starts lapping at your clit. "F-uck," you stutter, rubbing your eyes before you look down at him again. "How long have you been down there?"

He looks at his watch from where he caresses your sore hip. Not even bothering to remove his tongue from your wetness, he holds up two fingers. "Only two minutes? I feel like I'm about to cum..." You sigh softly, his actions filling your sleep addled body with pure bliss.

"Twenty," he mumbles with a mouthful of you, having wrapped his lips around your cunt and began sucking. He lets go with a lewd pop. "Pretty sure you already have, princess~"

"One more then," you ramble out, quickly pulling his head back towards you by his hair and making him moan. "Please, Daddy? Your tongue feels so good~"

He can't deny you. He said he'd give you anything you wanted, and if you want him to eat you out until he physically can't anymore — he will. His tongue is back to work in a second, licking at your clit while his lips massage your swollen ones; still puffy from taking his pounding. Making out with your cunt slow and passionate, he has to grind down on your mattress to relieve some of the pressure of his hard on.

It doesn't take long for you to crash into your peak, sensitive from last night and newly awakened after his almost half hour long teasing. You meet it with a broken gasp, your twitching hips held still by his warm grip, tears slipping down your face and wetting your pillow.

His hands slide up your body as he crawls up to hover over you; coming all the way to cradle your heated face. "I could eat you out for hours, baby," he whispers against your lips before kissing you softly, smearing your own slick against your face.

"Will you fuck me? Please?" You whine breathlessly when he pulls back, tracing your hand across his naked back and feeling the scratches you left there. "I want to make you feel good, J."

"Fuck," he sighs, leaning his forehead against yours, "you're so tempting~" He searches your eyes deeply, "was I too rough last night, love?"

You blink a few times, taking in the new nickname with a soft smile. "No," you shake your head, spreading your legs further for him, "I liked it, a lot..."

"Good~" He pecks your lips before rolling you onto your side, not giving you enough time to wonder what's he's up when when slots himself behind you; his bulge against your ass. "I woke up so hard for you... I thought last night was the best dream of my life~"

You gasp softly as he lines up with you, using the mix of his spit and your arousal to lube himself up, grinding against you. "Fuck," you breathe out in a huff, dripping on his length from the way he wraps his arms around your waist tenderly, "you're gonna have me like this?"

"Mhm~" He kisses your shoulder, rubbing his thumbs over your ribs soothingly as he sinks into you slowly, letting his eyes roll back freely. You feel so hot and billowy around his pulsing girth. Like heaven on Earth. "Best of both worlds," his voice is dripping with pleasure, "get to cuddle and fuck."

"I love that," you laugh airily, holding your hands over his while he begins thrusting slowly. His member stretching you out so gently makes you dizzy. "Love it when you hold me, Daddy..."

"I know you do, sweet girl~" He smiles into your skin, keeping his pace leisurely and deep; massaging your sore walls with his cock. "You fit so perfect in my arms, don't you?"

"God, yes," you sniffle, holding his hands tighter. You don't know if you'll ever get over crying during sex — probably not. Because Yunho is encouraging it. He likes it. He likes making you feel so good you cry; he loves it. Even when he gifted you your jacket and you started tearing up, he had got hard.

Something is wired a bit off in your mind; crying when you feel even an ounce of pleasure or sudden happiness. But that's okay — something is wired completely off in his; getting rock hard when he makes you cry.

"You cryin' already, princess?" He coos into your ear as he continues his lazy early morning stroking of your insides. "You like it that much? Am I making you feel so good you don't know what to do?" He chuckles as you let out a muffled 'mhm', not trusting your voice to do more without sobbing.

He can tell you feel vulnerable, and that makes it all the better because you continue to hold his hands and trust him not to break you in your fragile state. He can hold you like a breakable doll, like now, and he can manipulate your body like a lewd toy, like last night — and you love it just as much either way. And he won't take advantage of that fact.

Now that you're all his, he's going to do everything in his power to make you feel happy and safe and fucked to contentment.

"Don't you worry, baby-doll," the hybrid of his two nicknames for you makes you clench around him, breathing shakily, "Daddy will take care of you and your wet little cunt~"

"Nghh-" You gurgle on your own moan as one of his arms slips up and his large hand wraps around your throat, choking you just enough to cut off a bit of your air flow.

"Shit-" He hisses as you clench around him tightly, leaning his head against your shoulder, "you really do like it when I choke you~ You're fucking perfect..." You also, evidently, like it when he praises you — because a shiver runs through your body as you cum around him, moaning and sobbing in some sort of harmonious mix.

"Y-Yunie!" You croak out with a whine, breathing deeply as he eases his grip and strokes your neck softly.

"Shhh, you're okay~ Can you take it just a little longer, princess?" He reaches down and cups your cunt softly, making you fidget. One of his arms around your shoulders and the other over your hips, though; you don't get far. "Quit squirmin', use your words."

You yelp as he sucks on your neck, his hand squeezing your puffy pussy as he continues to thrust at a torturously slow pace. "F-fuuuck! Fuck you, why is your cock so perfect?"

He has a huge grin on his lips, body tingling at your tearful voice. The way you said 'fuck you' and then immediately praised him makes his brain pleasantly foggy. "Can you take it, baby? You gonna let me fuck you until I fill your perfect pussy~?"

"Ah~ Uh-huh!"

"Words, doll~"

You groan loudly, eyes squeezing shut and making fat tears roll down your face. "Yes! Yes, Daddy!"

"Yes?" The feeling of his tongue tracing up to your ear makes you tremble. "Say, 'Daddy, please fuck my perfect pussy until you cum'," he whispers right to you, moaning at the way your walls twitch around him. "Make it good, baby, you know I don't like to ask for things twice."

Zero hesitation is to be found as you grab at the sheets, steadying yourself as he locks a leg over yours and starts fucking into you with more force. Still slow and steady, but it feels like his rattling your brains every time he bottoms out. His chest is so warm against your back.

"Yunie! Daddy, p-please- oh, god~ Fuck m- ah! I can't think! M'sorry, I can't think!"

"Poor baby~" His laughter tickles your neck, "can't even remember a sentence cause I'm dicking you so good, huh?"

"Nuh-uh," you shake your head, that's one thing you can do.

The spank on your ass makes you shout, both of your hands flying up to your face and covering your mouth. "Words, baby," he reminds you with a threat, "or I'm gonna have to stop."

"No! Don't stop!" You wail behind your hands, grinding your hips back into him and making him moan deeply. "Please-" You whine as you search your scrambled brains, "oh! Daddy! Please, fuck my p-perfect pussy until you cum!" It comes out a bit slurred, but it plasters a smirk on his face nonetheless; even more satisfied when you add some of your own. "Fill me up, Yunie~ Want it, want it, pleaseee!"

"Oh, that's a good girl, I knew you could do it~" He coos, making your heart flutter as he places a kiss to the back of your neck; wrapping his arms up under yours and holding your shoulders. "My little doll~" His sudden quicker pace makes you scream, hands back over your mouth and muffling your own noises roughly; tears soaking your fingers.

He laughs breathlessly at your efforts, because you're still loud as all get out even with both hands slapped over your mouth. "Scared to wake the neighbors, princess? Don't want them to know The Joker is all up in your guts~?" He grabs your wrists, pulling them down to your chest and pinning them there.

"Ha-harder!"

Your face meets the pillow before you know up from down; laid flat on your stomach with him pushing your legs open with his own. "Harder," he laughs, "sweet princess already cryin' but wants it harder~? Oh, don't worry~" He pins your wrists down to the either side of your head as he starts pummeling into you; his hips clapping against your ass each time he slams the weight of them down into you. Slow, rhythmic, and the fucking roughest you've ever got. He gives you time to feel the impact of his cock driving into you before he's pulling back out and doing it again.

"Daddy will pound you just how you like it, baby," he pants from above you, eyes wild as he watches you bury your face in the pillow; screaming with each of his brutal thrusts. "Nice and rough for my precious girl~"

"Ah!! Fuck! Fuck!" Comes your muffled, frazzled response. "M'gonna c-"

"Not yet." He growls with a particularly brutal slap of his hips. His bulbous tip stays buried deep, driving you crazy; trying to hump your hips back into him. He lets go of one of your wrists in favor of smacking your ass. The rough sting makes you wail, clenching around him and leaking all over your unmade bed. "I said not yet."

"Whyyyy?" You sob into the pillow, trembling beneath him with your orgasm just a few small drops of pleasure away from spilling over and consuming you.

"Because you're gonna scream my name first."

"Yunho!" You let it tumble out of your lips with not a second thought. "Yunie!"

He hums, pretending to think, "what about 'Daddy'? Try that one for me, doll."

"D-Daddy! Please, keep going!"

"Let me hear... 'Mister J'. You're so sweet when you call me that~"

He's taking maybe a little too much joy in teasing you. Holding your orgasm just out of reach while he coaxes out your tearful voice, grinding against you just enough to keep you hanging right there. Dangling you above the boiling hot ecstasy and keeping it just at your trembling fingertips.

"Ngh-" You swallow thickly, fisting the sheet tightly and kicking your feet in a small tantrum. "You jerk! Let me cum!"

His cock twitches heavily inside of you, a guttural groan bubbling up his throat as that fire he loves about you so much comes out and singes him even when he's fucking you into a pile of tears.

He pins your legs in place with his own, "say it, baby. And I'll let you cum. I'll make you cum as much as you want, my needy girl~"

"Mister J, please~" You moan so sweetly that he starts up his deep, soul shaking thrusts against immediately.

"Good girl~"

His simple praise makes you fall straight into the ecstasy he kept out of reach, a cry breaking off in your throat as you cum so hard that you blank for a few seconds; your entire body shaking like a leaf in the wind as he keeps you pinned to the bed.

"Fuuuuck, that's it, keep milking my cock just like that~" He sucks in a sharp breath as he pulls up your boneless body, letting your shoulders slump against the mattress while he lifts your hips and starts pulling you into his thrusts — going faster.

"Ah, ah, ahh!!" All you can do is moan, drooling into the sheets as your brain gets flooded with entirely too much pleasure for you to handle. "G-ah..." Any and all attempts you make towards forming words falls short, making him grin widely as he pounds into you.

"Poor princess~" He coos in a mix of mockery and comfort, making you drip. "So dumb on Daddy's cock that you can't even speak," his next words each come with a smack to your heated ass cheek, "so damn cute." The squeaks that leave your lips make him want to spank you more. Harder.

He has so much pent up energy. So much bottled up lust. He's been fantasizing about you for months. Fisting his cock while he thought of all the ways he wanted to absolutely wreck you and place you back together just for him.

And now that you're his — it's all coming out. Through his actions, and his words.

He can't help himself. Just like when you were grinding on his lap; all of his darkest thoughts come tumbling out before he can stop them as he holds back his orgasm. Because while his body might be ready to cum, his brain is still urging him to fuck you more. Until you can't breathe.

"Goddamn~" He starts with a pant as he feels your arousal drip down his balls, "you're so wet for me~ Making a damn mess, you needy doll~ Fuck... This messy little cunt is all mine, hmm? I'm the only one who will ever touch you, ain't that right?"

"Y-yeah!" You manage to get enough air in your overworked lungs to respond, slurring and panting more than he is as another wave of mind-numbing pleasure creeps up on you.

"Say it. I wanna hear you say it, princess. 'My pussy belongs to Joker', go on and scream it~" He pushes you back flat on the bed, his hands pressing down on the small of your back to keep you in place as he pounds into you as hard as he can — trying to fuck all of his pent up emotions right into you.

"M- ah! Joker! My p- oh, my god! I'm gonna cum! Please, I'm gonna cum! Don't stop- my pussy belongs to you, Joker! I belong to you! Fucking make me c-cum! Make me cum, Daddy!" You start rambling just as much him; goosebumps rising on your sweaty neck as he snakes a hand between your hips and the bed, squeezing your cunt again.

"Fuck- that's right, baby~" He moans loudly, right by your ear as he pounds you into the mattress. "You're mine. Every fucking part of you. Get to fuck you whenever I damn well want to."

He's panting, his entire body tingling, ears burning as they revel in the sound of your shaky cries of pleasure.

"Make my pretty girl scream for the whole world to hear~ Make them all watch while I fuck you until you're stupid, yeah? Oh, yeah~ You like that, doll?" He coos with a slight tremble in his voice as you start grinding clumsily into his possessive grip on your cunt. "You like it when Daddy tells you all the dirty things he's gonna do with you?"

A string of slurred agreements and begs is all you can muster up, teetering so precariously on the edge that it feels like you may as well be having one long orgasm.

"My perfect girl," he wraps his arm around your shoulders and holds you tightly, blanketing you entirely while he slows his thrusts enough to let you both breathe. When you start whining, urging him to keep going by wiggling your hips, he shushes you softly. "Shhh, none of that. I'm going to fuck you all morning long, okay? But you gotta let me slow down or I'm gonna cum. You even feel how good your pussy is milking me?"

You let out a soft whimper, shaking your head. "Aw~ Poor baby so fucked out she can't even feel her pussy? Just wants to keep cumming and cumming~"

"Uh-huh," you moan into the pillow, hissing from the slight stinging sensation as he pulls out of you slowly. "Noooo, where are you going?"

"Hey, it's okay, princess," he chuckles, "I'm not goin' anywhere. I just want to see you~ Can't let my pretty girls face be stuck in the bed all morning, right?"

"O-okay," you pant, blinking up at him with wide eyes as he turns you over gently.

"Shit," he whistles quietly as he scans you, his cock twitching in the air. He cups your face, manic grin on his lips, and strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. "I really am fucking ruining you, aren't I? Poor girl~"

"It- It's okay," you whisper as you lean into his tender touches, "I'll let you ruin me whenever you want... I like it."

He just about cums untouched as you speak those words. "Y-Yeah?"

"Mhm~ I belong to you, Daddy."

"Fuck-" He crashes his lips onto yours, smooshing your face in his hands. "That's right-" He says before quickly planting another kiss. "Damn fucking right~" He licks up your cheek, wild in his actions. "All mine-" A lick to your other cheek. "My perfect little doll," he smirks down at you, "I'm going to have so much fun with you, princess~ You don't even know~"

The next kiss he lands on your lips is hot. Burning with passion and all-consuming. You're so fuzzy headed from it — from everything — that it takes you a few moments to realize he's pulled away and slapped you.

It was light, testing the waters. Nowhere near as rough as he could be. But it makes your overstimulated cunt twitch nonetheless. "Open your mouth." You're still dazed, catching up to what's happening when he lands a soft slap to your other cheek. "Say 'ah', baby."

You swallow before you open up your mouth, but there's still strings of saliva as you roll out your tongue. "Ahhh~"

"There we go~" He coos as he straddles your hips, fisting his length slowly while he leans over you. "God, I can't wait to fuck this pretty little mouth~" He spits right onto your tongue, making you jump in surprise. He laughs airily, tracing your chest with his free hand as you look up at him in awe and shock. "You're so fucking adorable..." He hums as he looks down at you, stars in his eyes, before spitting again.

"Swallow it." He says, cupping your breast and giving it a squeeze. "Whenever I put something in your mouth, swallow it. Got it? Spit, cum- fucking swallow and open your mouth to show me what a good girl you are."

You're quick to bring your tongue back into your mouth and do as he says — swallow. With a soft moan, you take his spit down your throat before reopening your lips. "Ah?" You hum, searching for his approval.

And he gives it. His cheeks are flushed pink and he's got a shockingly fond smile on his lips. "You're a quick learner, baby~ Good job," the kiss he places on your forehead has you melting. Almost as much as his next words make your heart flutter, "most people would be running for the hills if they heard all the nasty things I wanted to do. But not you, doll... We're a match made in heaven~"

"Not me," you bite at your lip for a moment before you find the courage to ask, "will you tell me more?"

His eyes light up even more, looking up from your chest to meet your eyes. "Yeah?" He whispers, smirk overtaking his smile, "you want to hear what I thought about every night? C'mere-"

You yelp as he suddenly lifts you, wrapping his arms around you tightly and sliding you down on his length as he sits on the edge of your bed. "Ffffuck~" You shiver in his hold as he starts thrusting into you immediately.

"Look at me," he moans, cupping the back of your head and pressing his forehead to yours, "wanna see the look in your eyes when I tell you exactly what I want to do."

"I w- I wanna hear it all, Daddy," you whimper as his girth drags along your overworked g-spot.

"I want to cum inside all of your holes." He dives straight into the deep end, blurting out his fantasy with zero hesitation; eyes locked on yours as they widen slightly. "Your pretty little mouth, perfect fucking pussy-" His jaw tightens a bit as you start meeting his thrusts, "how many people been inside that ass of yours?"

"N-none."

His cock leaks with excitement inside of you, his grip on you tightening. "Fuck, baby- really?" When you nod against his head, he starts thrusting harder.

"Will y-you make it feel good?"

"Fucking christ, doll! You're making me crazy..." His eyes squeeze shut for a moment before they're right back on you, "of course. Of course, baby. I'm going to make your little ass feel so good~ You'll love it, won't you?"

"M'gonna cum-"

"Hold it." He growls, gripping the back of your neck. "I'm not done. I want you to hear about how I want to pin you to the floor and see how hard you'll fight-"

"Ca- holy shit! Can't- I can't hold it!"

He ignores you, slamming his hips up into you while running through his imagination, "I wanna know how much fire you've really got in you. See juuust how far you'll go to try and get away-"

"Yunie!"

"Maybe that's when I'll fuck you in the ass." His vulgar words make you squeeze your eyes shut to try and focus on holding off your impending orgasm. His slap to your cheek makes you open them again, hot tears streaming down your face and getting smeared by his palm. "Thinking about that gonna make you cum? Fuck- It's gonna make me cum~ I can just imagine the pretty cries you'll let out when you realize you can't get away. When I hold you down and make you cum so much you pass out- fuck, it's going to be beautiful~"

You're panting heavily, your entire body is hot, your cunt is tingling. His face is blurry behind your tears, but you can see how excited he is. You feel an unfamiliar twinge in the massive ball of pleasure building up inside of you. One you've only felt once before. "Oh- Fuck- I think m'gonna squirt-" Your words come out in a fast jumble, but he catches every single syllable.

"Do it, pretty girl~ You've earned it~"

"Oh, fuck! Thank you, Yunie, thank you!" You squeal, hugging his neck tightly and keeping your eyes on his until you physically can't — the force of your orgasm slamming into you so roughly that it sends your eyes straight back into your skull, eyelids fluttering shut as pure unadulterated ecstasy rushes through you.

"Fucking perfect..." His whisper of awe, his heart filled eyes as you squirt around him all goes unnoticed as you twitch and tremble in his tight hold.

"Yunho~" Your soft, pleasure drunken whine of his name pushes him off the edge — shoves him, hard. His brain takes over as it floods with dopamine and endorphins. He rolls you both over quickly, thrusting as deep as he can get while he pins you to the bed with his body; hugging your head to his chest.

"My princess. All fucking mine. Take it, take it, baby-" His voice breaks into a loud moan, a full body twitch running through him as he cums inside of you; filling you with warmth from the inside out.

You cling to him tightly: head buried away from the world in the comfort of his chest, sore legs spread wide for him, soft sniffs and whines meeting his pleasured hums.

"You're so good for me, love," his voice is almost a purr as he holds you tightly, "my precious doll. I'll never let you go."

"Y- You better not."

ꕥ

"Hey, pretty girl~ Needa' ride?"

The car pulls up right next you, music blasting.

Yunho smirks as he sees you instinctively reach for the knife he knows you keep in your jacket before you register that it's him; a grin making its way to your lips.

You lean your arms on the rolled down window, popping your gum. "Cash, grass, or ass?"

He simply chuckles, reaching over and opening up the door for you. "Come on, doll-face."

You slide into the car, leaning over the center to give him a kiss, "missed you, Mister J~" It's not even been twenty-four hours — more about ten. He had left late in the night after he got a text, saying he had to 'grab' something and that he'd pick you up in the morning.

So, here you are.

"Missed you back, baby," he hums, cupping the side of your neck to pull you into another quick, hot kiss. He hates to pull away, but he does anyway. It's a big day ahead; and he wants to get right on with it. "Buckle up."

"Ironic," you giggle as you pull on your seatbelt, the car already speeding, "don't think I've ever seen you wear your seatbelt."

"Hm," he pouts as he thinks, before shrugging with a laugh. "Probably not!"

You grab his cigarettes as he points to them, sliding one out carefully. "Where we off to, J?" You ask as you place it between his lips, leaning over to light it for him.

He takes a long inhale before blowing the smoke into the rushing cold air; the winter air whipping through the car. "Surprise~ Don't worry, you'll like it."

"How do you know?"

"I just do~ Call it a gut feeling." His hand finds its rightful place on your inner thigh, rubbing his thumb over your skin softly. "This skirt is pretty on you, wear it more for me~"

"Uh-huh, if you say s-" As he stops at a red light, the song happens to change at the same time; and something else reaches your ears. Muffled screaming and banging from the trunk. "Yunho?"

"What's up, princess?"

"Do you have someone in the trunk?"

"Yup~" He beams as he turns up the music, "don't mind him. It's not a long ride."

You stare at him for a moment. Clearly to ask 'what the fuck?' "Who's back there?"

"No one important," he tosses his cigarette butt out the window before rolling them up and turning the vent toward you. "You cold, baby?"

"A little bit- wait, wait! We aren't moving on that fast. The fuck is going on?"

"Don't you worry about that, love," he smiles over at you, "you trust me, right?"

You think, only for a split second. "Of course, Yunie."

ꕥ

The wear-house by the river clearly hasn't been in business for a long time. The only sign of life for miles is Yunho, running over to open the car door for you.

"C'mon, doll," he takes your hand, all but pulling you back to the trunk. "Are you ready?"

You don't really know. You have no idea what — who to expect when he opens the trunk. "Yeah, I guess so..." You trail off as he pushes it open, eyes going wide. "Holy shit." You whisper. "Holy shit!" You slap a hand over your mouth as you laugh; looking between him and the fearful man who's bound with tape in his trunk.

"You goddamn crazy fuck," you grab his neck and pull him down into a deep kiss. Mumbling into his lips as his hands find your waist, you find a wide smile spreading on your features, "you did this for me?"

"I'd do anything for you, doll~" He hums softly, reaching over without looking away from you and shoving the man back into the trunk as he tries to clumsily crawl out. "I told you that you'd have his heart in a gift basket, no~? I figured why have all the fun myself, I should let my girl have some, too."

In the trunk is none other than Earnest Holmes; the man who you hate more than anything. "This is the best gift I've ever received, Mister J~ How could I ever repay you?"

"Let me help you with whatever plans you've got running through that pretty little head~"

"Deal." You land another kiss to his lips before turning quickly, your pocket knife pulled in a second flat and the tip of it against Holmes' throat; making the man still.

"I bet you don't even remember me." He shakes his head violently. "No?" You press the sharp stainless steel into his skin, a single pinprick made in his neck. You don't want him dead just yet. "I'll give you a hint..."

Yunho leans over, joining you in crowding the terrified man; your shadows looming over him.

"My momma gave you that nasty scar on your back. She got you real good." You laugh as his eyes widen, "mhm~ Ringing a bell?"

Yunho rests a hand on the small of your back, the look in his eyes basically already gutting Holmes. If looks could kill, he'd be dead twice over. Once from you, and another from The Joker resurrecting him just to do it again himself.

"I'm going to do so much more than she did. I'm going to kill you. But not before Mister J and I have a fucking field day making you suffer."

The man yells behind the tape on his mouth as you twirl the knife before driving it straight into his thigh.

"Let's get him inside, baby," Yunho grins wildly, basking in the unbridled fire in your eyes as you look up at him, "we can take our time with this worm."

You yank your blade from Holmes' leg, staring down at the blood on the steel. You're usually queasy around gore. But now? You're thinking of all the ways you and Yunho can hurt him.

You appreciate that he hasn't asked just exactly what the man has done. Because if you tried to explain it at the moment, you'd end up stabbing Holmes more fatally. And he doesn't deserve a quick end.

You move out of the way, letting his blood drip off your knife; which you keep a death grip on — just incase you change your mind and decide that you want to stab him in the throat.

Yunho doesn't have any trouble yanking the man up, dropping him to the dirt with a glare. It softens when he looks to you, and it's back to pure hatred as he looks back down at Holmes. He doesn't know the details — but he doesn't have to. All he has to know is this man has harmed and disrespected you.

He scoffs at the mans sniveling, grabbing him by the ankles and dragging him through the dirt towards the warehouse. "Watch your head." He smirks as he pulls the man up the concrete steps, making his head thud against them.

You have a slight grin making its way back to your lips as you follow, running to pull the large sliding door open for him. "Well, thank you, baby~" He pecks your head as he passes, kicking the man in his injured leg as he tries to use his bound hands to grab at your ankles. "Hands off, fuck-face, or I'll cut them off."

You slide the door shut behind you as he pulls the man up and shoves him into the chair in the middle of the empty space. One look around the desolate building tells you that it's far from the first time The Joker has used it for this purpose. Between the blood stained wooden chair and the work desk of instruments of pain; this seems to be his second office.

By the time you've finished scanning the large, near empty room, Yunho has Holmes hand-cuffed to the arms of the chair.

You toss your knife onto the stained workbench, stalking over to them as Yunho leans back against the metal wall. "What you got planned, pretty girl?"

You grab the edge of the duct tape on Holmes' mouth, pulling it off slowly. "Let's hear him try to explain himself." Half-way across, you yank it; making him yell.

"You fucking bitch-"

Before Yunho can even jump to strangle the man for daring to insult you — you slap the man. Hard. Hard enough for it to snap his head to the side and for the sound to echo a few times.

"Do you think you're in any position to be insulting me?" You huff a laugh, "you should be begging for mercy, you worthless piece of shit." He's silent, looking at the floor. "You think you're too good for that? Hm..." You pout towards Yunho, sarcasm laced in your voice, "he thinks he's better than me, Mister J."

He pushes off the wall with a wild grin, "oh, that won't do~" Holmes groans as he yanks his head up by his hair, making the man face you. "Maybe, if you play nice," he whispers to him, "my girl will make it quick."

He knows that you won't. But Holmes doesn't.

"Listen..." He starts slowly, breaths shaky, "your mother-" He hesitates when you take a step forward. "Your mother... she was just- I d- Fuck, what do you want me to say!?"

"Tell me why you chose her."

Yunho yanks his hair again when he takes too longer to answer.

"Because she was pretty."

Your jaw tightens. "I've decided what I want to do first, Yunie."

"What's that, baby?"

"Do you know how to gouge someone's eyes out?"

He shoves the man's head as he lets go, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and showing you to the workbench. "I'll teach ya'."

ꕥ

You let out a soft sigh, leaning into Yunho's side after he wraps his long coat around your shoulder. "Thank you, Yunho..."

You're both sitting on the edge of the dock, legs dangling. It's only a few hours later, but it feels like a life time has passed. Some of the things you did — you didn't even know you were capable of.

"Anything for you, love."

And he's proved that. Absolutely anything for you. He had washed his hands in the river after carving out the heart of a man who had wronged you — there was probably nothing he wouldn't do.

It sits next to you in a wicker basket that he handed you with a kiss.

You had helped him roll the dead, weighed down man into the water and watched him sink with a feeling of cathartic release sinking down on you.

"He stalked my mother for three weeks." You start with a whisper, "and then he broke into our house. Killed my pops first when he tried to protect us. And... she tried to fight him off, stabbed him in the back. But it wasn't enough. Police said it was random- home invasion gone sideways. They didn't have any records of him stalking her because they said they couldn't do anything until he actually hurt her. What kind of ass backwards bullshit is that?"

He's angry for you. He could tell by the way you talked about it that it has been weighing on you for a long time. He sighs, rubbing your shoulder softly, "I'm sorry, baby. The world is an unfair place, we have to make our own justice... Do you feel better now that he's gone?"

"It doesn't change what he did. But... for some reason? I do."

"Good. He deserved every single thing we did to him and more. If there's a hell, I'll find him there and continue his punishment."

You chuckle quietly, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Maybe I do owe him a single thanks."

"Mh? What for?"

"After my parents passed, my aunt and uncle took me in. Hongjoong's parents. And when he opened The Riddle Room, he gave me a job there. And, in a fucked up kind of way, that lead me to you."

He breathes a small chuckle, "sentimental already, doll?"

"Oh, screw you," you laugh, shoving his shoulder with yours.

He pulls you closer to his side, smiling down at the water that now houses your first kill — right next to his.

ꕥ

"Yes, princess?" Yunho leans back, taking his lollipop stick out of his mouth to speak into the phone.

It's about a week later. A week of officially being his. And while he would absolutely love if it were the case — you don't spend every second by his side. He has business to attend to that he would rather not mix you up in, and you have your college work to focus on now that you've officially quit working for Riddler.

"Hey, Yunho," your frazzled voice makes his heart drop, "are you busy?"

"What's wrong? Where are you?" He asks quickly, chewing on the stick while waiting for your response; impatient.

"Uhm, I'm just at my apartment, but," you trail off for a moment, "sorry, is this a bad time? I can- I know you're working, I can call back later."

"No, it's okay. What's going on, doll?"

He's ready to drop everything for you.

"Some asshole ran into the gas pipe across the street and now my whole apartment building is turning into a damned freezer. I hate to ask but, uhm," you clear your throat. He can tell you're nervous even over the phone. "I don't really have anywhere else to go until it gets fixed, my aunt lives all the way in Arkham and Hong is still a little butthurt- the maintenance lady said it should only be a few days!"

"You can stay with me, baby," he doesn't even hesitate. Honestly, he's relieved it wasn't something worse. His mind immediately went to the worst case scenarios. What if Bullock was following you? What if someone saw you dump the body with him? What if one of his rivals h-

"Really?" Your elated voice rings from the speaker, "oh, thank you, Yunie! I promise I won't be trouble."

"Hm, why not? That's what I like about you, doll-face," he smiles as your chuckle comes through.

"Oh, shut up," you huff a laugh, "you gonna pick me up or should I come to your office?"

"I'll pick ya' up, pack whatever you need," he pulls the phone away to check the time, "I'll be there in an hour, try to stay warm, yeah?"

"Yeah- thank you so much, Mister J."

"You know I'll do anything for you, princess."

He slips his phone into his pocket and takes the lollipop stick back into the side of his mouth. "Sorry," he looks up to the gagged man who's currently tied up on the chair, "had to take that. You don't mind, right~?"

The man shivers as The Joker pulls his leather glove back on, picking up the pliers he had sat down to answer your call.

"Now, let's hurry this along. My girl needs me."

ꕥ

"So..." You trail off as you look around the apartment slowly. "This is the infamous Joker's home."

It's shockingly normal. Nice. Small and cozy. It's clear he doesn't spend a a lot of time here, but he still cares for it.

"Home sweet home," he chuckles as he unzips your large jacket, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, "get comfy, baby-doll, I'll turn on the heat."

"Thank you, J," you cup his cheek softly as he goes to turn around, stopping him. "Really, thank you. I'd be freezing my ass off if not for you."

The way he absolutely melts into your touch doesn't go unnoticed. It never does — you always notice. You have since the beginning. Or, at least since you stopped being afraid of him. You realized he needs touch just as desperately as you.

"Well, we can't have that~" He jokes to break the intense staring contest, kissing your palm softly, "gotta take care of my girl."

"I'm gonna get spoiled if you keep this up-"

"Good." He shrugs, turning and disappearing deeper into the apartment, "my princess deserves only the best!"

You shake your head with a smile overtaking your lips, taking off your jacket and hanging it next to his coat. "How long have you lived in this part of the city?"

It's right in the middle of the upper and lower parts. Probably so he can get around quicker.

"Couple years," he calls back to you, joining you in the open living area; cigarette resting unlit in his lips. "How long you been in your neighborhood?"

"Couple years," you mimic him as you investigate the living room from your spot next to him.

He swipes up the lighter on his short coffee table and lights the cigarette as he falls onto the fabric couch. "Don't be so shy," he says before he inhales deeply, slumping as the nicotine fills his lungs. "What's mine is yours~"

You drop your bag on the floor and all but jump onto the couch next to him. He props his feet up on the table, his arm wrapping around your shoulder as you snuggle into his side; hugging his torso. "That's more like it," he laughs softly as you fold your legs under you.

Almost polar opposites in the way you sit — it's kind of amusing. He's spread out, taking up his space and leaning his head back against the cushion as he smokes. You're curled up on his side; in his space more than your own, head pressed to his chest as you listen to his deep inhalations.

"Did you have a good day at work?" You ask softly, knowing that he's not going to answer. He never does. But you always ask anyway.

"Hm," he toys with your hair softly, humming amused at your insistence of asking. He's not going to tell you that he spent the day sending a message to a rival drug dealer by torturing his runner. "How was your school work? How's my pretty genius gettin' along?"

You smile into his chest, pressing closer.

You suddenly don't mind that the gas heating in your apartment is broken. You like it here, with him.

ꕥ

"I can't believe you were serious." You set the stuffed animal back down on the corner of his bed, giggling as he pulls off your pants.

His bed is big and warm and so comfortable you find yourself wanting to never leave.

"I told you," he shrugs with a smile, "I like to snuggle."

"I guess you did, yeah, just a bit shocking." You smile back as he leans over, pecking your lips as he pulls the pajama bottoms he had gotten out of your bag over your legs.

"Why?" He asks between soft kisses left across your face, his hands sliding under your sweater to caress your waist.

Both of you now dressed warm and ready for bed, it's possibly the most cozy you've ever been as he hovers over you, peppering your skin in light smooches.

"You have a reputation, you know?" He leans into your touch as you reach up and push back his hair. "My Mister J~"

His face would probably be unreadable to anyone else. But, for some reason, you can see past his calm features — you can see into his mind through the smallest flicks of his eyes as he scans your face.

"Are you still afraid of me?"

He asks it so softly that you nearly miss it; like he's scared of the answer he might get. He doesn't need to be, though.

"Why would I be?"

He sits to straddle you, bringing his hands out from your sweater to find yours. Lacing your fingers together, he says, "I'm not a good man."

You wrap your fingers in his, never letting your eyes leave his. "You're good to me."

A smile tugs the corner of his lips. "I've killed."

"So have I." You tilt your head as you look up at him, "do you think I'd leave over something so trivial?"

He laughs at your choice of words, a short huff of amusement. Trivial. Like it doesn't matter. Like you don't mind the blood that stains his very being.

Looking down at you — he can tell it doesn't.

You're holding his hands despite their tainted nature.

"I'm not afraid of you. I bare my neck to you because I know you could kill me... but you choose not to."

You're getting blurry. His cheeks are wet.

Is there a leak —

You force one of your hands from his grasp and cup his cheek, wiping his tears. "Yunho-"

"I love you." It comes in a quick breath, like it was squeezed out of his throat. Like he doesn't want you to catch the confession.

But in the quiet of his bedroom, in the intimate moment; of course you do.

Your face softens, eyebrows pushing together slightly, pupils widening.

"I love you." Again, louder this time. "Please-" He leans over you, hiding his face in the crook of your shoulder, "you can't-" His brain isn't working properly. He's blinking rapidly, trying to rid the troublesome tears before he gives up and squeezes his eyes shut.

When was the last time he cried? It had to have been years. Not since he was a boy.

"I'm not going anywhere, Mister J," you whisper as he wraps his arms around you tightly; holding you like you'll disappear any second. "You can't get rid of me that easy~"

You smile as he chuckles quietly into your shoulder, rubbing up and down his back slowly. "Guess I'm stuck with you~" He jokes right back, his voice heavy with his tears.

It's definitely... strange to see the man who you once thought was nothing but chaos crumble like a house of cards as he leans into your touches. You can't find it in yourself to care, however.

He isn't The Joker right now. He's yours.

"Stay with me, baby..."

"Of course, Daddy."

ꕥ

You decide to flip the script on him in the morning whenever you find that you've woke up before him.

"Mh, Yunie?" You moan sleepily as he presses closer to you with a deep groan. You think he might be awake, the way he's pressing his hard-on into your behind while pulling your back more securely to his chest.

But when you turn in his arms, you find his peacefully sleeping face: his lips parted by his gentle breaths, his hoodie over his messy hair, completely content as he rests. Completely — besides the bulge in his sweatpants that he's still trying to press against you subconsciously; a soft whine in his throat when he can't find your ass.

You spend a second to look at him.

He strangely... pretty. The perfect mix of sharp features and round. Just like his personality. Well — towards you, at least.

"Babyyy," he groans in his sleep, you can see his eyes flicking slowly behind his lids.

He did it to you, so you may as well return the favor.

You carefully push him to his back, kicking the blankets off of you in the process, "I'll take care of you, Daddy." You whisper with a kiss to his jaw before crawling down.

You pull his sleep pants and boxers down past his hips, gulping as you get your first good look at his length.

You've never seen one that you would call mouthwatering. They do say never say never for a reason; because you are salivating at the sight of his hard inches.

No wonder he feels so good inside of you. He's just a little too thick for your fingers to wrap all the way around as you softly grasp his base. His tip is leaking, slightly flushed. The vein running down the side looks like it throbs ever so slightly. He has a freckle, near the tip.

His breath hitches as you kiss the freckle. You smile before you trace over the pronounced vein with the tip of your tongue. You catch a taste of his pre-cum and moan quietly, closing your eyes while you swirl your tongue around his head slowly.

The little sounds he's making are making you ridiculously wet for how early in the morning it must be.

You situate yourself a bit better, laying between his legs as he spreads them and bucks his hips subconsciously. With a hum, you lean back down and start kissing along his length; soft, opened mouth smooches echoing in the quiet apartment with his deep moans and whines.

His hand finds the top of your head as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, just resting there heavily.

When he slowly opens his eyes a few moments later, he blinks up at the ceiling as his waking brain catches up to all of the pleasure that's coming from your warm mouth wrapped around the first inches of his painfully hard cock. He looks down quickly, meeting your eyes as you slowly pull away from his length.

"Good morning, Daddy-"

"Are you suckin' my dick?" His voice is raspy with sleep and pleasure; you can feel your panties stick to your lips with slickness.

"Mhm," you hum while kissing back down his length, chuckling as his head falls back to the pillow.

"Fuck, doll-" He huffs, biting his lip as you go even further down and kiss his balls. When you suck a bit, he hisses, pulling your head closer, "again."

You take one of the globes into your mouth, suckling tenderly and rolling your tongue along the taut skin. "God-" He slumps into the bed, bringing his arm over his eyes as he laughs airily.

You let go with a soft pop, licking up the underside of his length.

"Oh, you're gonna make me crazy, love," his chuckle makes your clit throb, and you almost want to give up on making him cum in your mouth when he looks down at you again. Eyelids heavy with sleep, pupils wide with lust, his chest rising and falling a bit quickly.

"You want me to stop, Daddy?"

His cock twitches next to your face, calling your attention. You slide your hand up the length with the help of your spit, making his eyes roll back from the slow motion. "I'll fucking choke you on my cock if you try to stop, pretty baby."

"Will you do it anyway?" You tease with a twist of your wrist while going back down his member.

"Open," he growls while gripping your head with both his hands, pushing you down toward him, "open wide, princess."

He shoves you down on his length until you gag — not even half way down but stuffing your mouth entirely. Your throat contracting around the very tip of his cock makes a loud moan spill past his lips; especially because it's paired with your warm hand working up and down on the rest of his length. "Goddamn, I could cum just like this~"

You grab onto his hip as he starts thrusting into the entrance to your throat, making you sputter and gag each time. "Mh~" His eyes flutter shut as he pulls you along his girth, your sounds and your messy spit making his heart race just as much as the heat of your tongue and the soft muscles of your throat trying to reject him.

You try to relax around his cock, but the feeling is so foreign that it forces you to pull away with a gasping breath, heaving as he laughs. "You okay, sweet girl?"

Your response is to start leaving sloppy kisses on his wet cock as you catch your breath, making his back arch slightly. "I might not be able to take you," you say with a pout as you look up, cradling his balls in your palm.

"Aw~" He coos as he pushes himself up, leaning to kiss your head, "yes, you will, doll. That's what training is for."

"You think so?" You ask innocently while you stroke his member quickly; filling the room with lewd shlicks.

He curses under his breath, eyebrows pinching together, "I'll make you take it, baby. I'll make it fit. Even if you pass out, if you can't talk for a few days — I'm going to make your throat fit me perfectly, just like I will to all of your little holes~"

"Shit-" It's your turn to curse, leaning up to kiss him as you continue with your smooth movements. "Do you promise?" You whisper against his lips, "promise you'll make me yours?"

"You already are."

You were his the moment he laid eyes on you. You just didn't know it yet.

He wraps his arms around you tightly, lifting you up into his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed; his cock twitching between you at the loss of your touch when you wrap your arms around his neck. "I am?"

"Don't you fucking doubt it, pretty girl~ You're mine. Every little piece of you: every bone in your body, every hair on your pretty little head, every smile and every tear. All of it belongs to me. Ain't that right, doll?"

You smile as you slide your hands down his chest, almost shy. "That's right, Mister J~" You yip a moan as he slaps your ass, smirking as he rubs the sore cheek through your pajamas.

"Mhm, good girl~ Hey, look at me," he pinches your chin delicately and tilts your head up to meet his gaze, "I'm yours. Just as much as you belong to me, I belong to you. Your name may as well be carved on my very soul. Tell me you understand."

"I understand, Yunie." And as strange as it might seem — you truly do. You've read stories of all-consuming love. Once in a lifetime meant to be type of love.

Yunho is yours. And you're his.

"We belong to each other," you grin as you let your hands trail down his stomach, watching his eyes flick across every inch of your face; committing each detail to memory before his eyes close as you wrap your hand around his cock again. Warm skin almost searing against the cooling spit as you jerk him off nice and slow.

"Ah~" He pants quietly, taking his lip between his teeth as he looks down, "fucking christ, baby..." He laughs from the back of his throat, fingers digging into your shoulders to stop himself from cumming. "Oh, oh, fuck- Your hand is so small around my cock, look at that~"

You press your heads together as you look down, watching your hand slide up and down on his slick length. "You're just so big, J~" You giggle with him, your free hand going to the back of his head and your fingers wrapping up in his hair now that his hoodie has fallen. "So big and pretty," you hum with a lick of your lips.

"F- you think I'm pretty?" He just about cums then and there when you say —

"The most handsome man in Gotham, cock included-"

"Get on your knees," he says quickly, spreading his legs and helping you fall to do exactly what he says. You push up your sleeves as he rids himself completely of his sweatpants and boxers. "You like my dick, princess?" He smirks as you nod up at him quickly. "Kiss it."

He leans his weight back on his hands, letting you take control as you dive back in with zero hesitation, kissing up his thigh quickly as you settle between his legs. A hum of approval rumbles in his throat as you kiss up his length — indecent, wet, smooches echoing in the sex-heavy air.

"Mhm~ Th- oh, that's it, love," his hands twitch in the messy blankets. He wants to grab you and skull fuck you so badly. But, he's also absolutely floating at the feeling of your lips all over him. "That's my girl," his sweet, pleasure soaked voice makes you whine quietly as your heat gains a heartbeat, "make out with Daddy's cock, show me how much you love it~"

You pant softly as you travel further down, back at his balls; sending a shiver up his spine as you start kitten licking them. "Fuck!" He brings a hand to his mouth, biting his finger as your hand starts giving his shaft attention while you lick and kiss below it.

"Oh," he pants a laugh, feeling his orgasm snowballing in his gut slowly, "I'm going to fuck you so hard you forget your own name~ Not gonna be a single thought in that pretty head of yours when I'm done with you... Fuck you right back to sleep, baby," his hand finds your head no matter how hard he tries to keep it to himself; his head rolling back as you take both of his balls into your mouth. "You want that? Want me to stick my cock in that cute little cunt while it's covered in your slobber?"

Your hum of agreement vibrates through him, making him gasp; the leaking pre-cum from his tip quickly worked into his length as you stroke him.

"Ah, yeah, you do~ My needy doll," he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, finding himself drooling from the sight of your blissfully closed eyes while you lap at the base of his cock; your hand faithful in its pace higher up. "Fuck... You're so pretty, baby."

The way he said it is so sweet compared to the absolute mess you're making on his member; your sloppy licks and kisses leaving him glistening with spit.

"Open your mouth." And the second you do, he's back inside of it. But instead of fucking back into your throat — he's pressing his tip into your cheek, making it bulge out and filling your face with heat even more than before when he reaches and cups it softly.

He doesn't take his eyes off of you, guiding your head with one hand on the back of your head and the other on your cheek. "My pretty girl~" His gentle slap to your puffy cheek makes both of you moan. "Shit-" He laughs, eyebrows raised slightly as he looks down at you, your hand sneaking into your bottoms, "aww, poor princess~"

He coos with a series of quick, light slaps, "you getting worked up, angel?" He pulls out of your mouth to let you answer, fisting his length roughly. You take in a gasp, rubbing your fingers along your slit faster as the new nickname soaks into your brain.

"M'so wet, Daddy..." You plead as you look up at him with unshed tears, "please- I wanted to make you cum in my mouth but I can't take it, I can't take it anymore, please fuck me?"

"Take your pants off. Let me see how wet you got from making out with my cock~"

You fall into your ass so quickly that he chuckles at your eagerness, pushing back his messy hair in his free hand as he slows his fist on his length. His ears start blushing after you shove your pants away and scramble back a bit before spreading your legs.

You're so fucking wet that the baby blue of your panties is near translucent where it clings to your pussy lips. Your fingers glide over the fabric easily as you circle your clit. "Please, Yunie?"

"Get up here before I fuck you on the floor."

You're on the bed before he even blinks, pulling your sweater off and leaving you in nothing but the soaked underwear. "How do you want me-"

"I'll put you how I want you, how about that?" He grins widely as he pulls you to the middle of the bed, throwing you onto your stomach, "put that pretty little ass in the air for me~"

You land with a moan, immediately pulling your knees up and arching your back; ass in the air just like he asked. "Hurryyy-" You yelp into the bed in surprise as he spanks you. Once, twice, and then his mouth is wrapped around the dripping center of your panties, making you wail, "Daddy!!"

"Hm?" He moans, sucking at your cunt through the fabric and making you cry into the sheets.

"Pu-" You huff, grabbing at his pillow as he all but nuzzles your desperate heat, "pleaseee, make me cum..."

"Ah," he nips your thigh, "since you asked so nicely~" He yanks your panties down, letting them rest around your knees as he impatiently laps at your hot slit.

"Oh, so good~" You slur at his raw movements, each lick and suck he makes filled to the brim with unbridled lust.

He smacks your ass at the same time he takes your clit between his lips, sucking harshly. "Ah! Gonna cum! D- don't stop!"

And of course, he'll be doing no such thing. When he nips at your bundle of nerves and lands another open palmed hit to your cheek, your hips stutter as you gush all over the bridge of his nose. "Ah, you son of a bitch! Oh, fuck! Fuuuck~"

There you go again, making his dick twitch with want as you curse at him; backing your cunt into his face as you work through your peak.

"Mmf~" You groan as you fall flat, face buried in his pillow and soaking it with tears, "s'good, Daddy..."

He crawls up, flipping you over with a smirk, "needy little doll, I barely got to eat you out~"

"M'sorry, you're so good at it," you hum dizzily, melting under his touch as his hand slides up your side.

"Aww, it's okay," he pecks your lips as he grabs the base of his cock, lining up with you, "I know my poor angel was so worked up~"

He slams into you, making your back arch and your jaw drop; eyes squeezing shut while your hands scramble for purchase. "Oh- my god!! Fucking fuck- fuck you, you fucker!" He laughs into your neck, kissing softly while giving your fluttering walls time to adjust. "Holy shit, Yunie..."

"Shhh," he pecks below your ear, licking up slowly until he takes the lobe between his teeth; feeling you clench around him. He tugs ever so slightly, making you gulp forcefully. "You like that, baby?"

"Yeah-" You let out a puffed breath, sniffling as he start to thrust slowly. And you can't help the squeak that comes either when he licks across your ear with his hot, flattened tongue. "More!"

Whether you mean more for your heated ear or gushing pussy — he gives it to you.

One of his hands finds your neck, squeezing and caressing as he makes out with your ear; the filthy noises literally right in your ear. The other grips your waist, keeping you still as he pounds his hips into yours rhythmically.

"Ngh~" You can only manage a few small, pathetic, sounds as his tip assaults your g-spot, "I lo- oh~"

His head perks up from beside you, hovering over you in a split second; hips never stilling. "What, doll?"

You grab onto his shoulders tightly, locking eyes with him even as tears blur your vision.

"I love y-you, Yunho."

He stuffs your mouth with his tongue the second you finish your sentence, hammering into you mercilessly as you squeal and suck at his tongue while he explores every inch he can reach.

Both of his hands find your neck, grounding you in place physically and mentally as he pounds you to another plane of existence. Fucking you like he hates your guts, he pulls back with stars in his eyes —

"Say it again."

"I l- I love you, Yunho!" You stutter out, sobbing below him from the rush of pleasure and emotional relief you've gotten from blurting out your feelings.

"Oh, I love you, princess," he moans as he cups your teary cheeks, rubbing under your eyes with his thumbs, gently — like he's not rearranging your insides. "I fucking love you. I'll go to the goddamn ends of t-the Earth for you. All you have to say-"

"Please, Daddy!!"

"That's right- ah, that's right, baby~ Shh, shhh," he smiles manically as you start hiccuping, throbbing and clenching around him, "I got you, shh, I got you... You just let yourself go, my dumb little angel~"

You cry loudly, pulling him down by his hoodie and burying your face in his shoulder, "m'g- uh!"

"I know, sweetie~ I know, feels so good, right?" He wraps his arms around your head, pausing briefly to hook one of his legs over yours for leverage before starting up his animalistic pace again. "You can cum, baby. You don't have to wait-"

"Ahh! Fuck you- thank you! Fuck, thank you!" You scream into his shoulder as your brain starts short circuiting, your legs trembling below his.

"Mh," he bites his lip, holding you close tightly as you convulse with your release; so much so that he has to pin you to the bed with his body so you'll stop jerking your hips over his member — which is dangerously close to cumming.

But he's not done making you cum and cry yet. "One more." He growls simply before resuming his movements, thrusting and grinding into you so deeply that you see stars. "Come here," he groans, pushing your head back to the bed with his hand around your neck, "open your mouth."

You drop your jaw with a shaky 'ah', rolling out your tongue. He spits right onto it, watching you with dark eyes as you quickly swallow it and put your tongue back out.

"Good girl, you remembered~" He squeezes your neck as he leans down, hips slowly slightly as he presses his tongue to yours and groans with satisfaction.

It's unclear if this is kissing, but it kind of feels like it. Your lips don't touch, but your tongues are all over each other as he rolls his hips into you.

His tongue slips away from yours, going up your heated cheek slowly and gathering up all of your salty tears. Your noises have him going deeper, rougher. Every sniffle and gasp and moan makes him try to thrust further into you and get more out of you.

"You gonna cum for me again, princess? Can you take it?"

"I d- uh! I dunno know," you shake your head with a loud whine, "f-fuck, feels too good!"

"You can take it~" He chuckles breathlessly, rubbing his thumbs on the sides of your throat while he chokes a broken moan out of you. "My girl can take it," he leaves a trail of kisses down your jaw, fingers tightening around your neck. "If you really want me to stop, slap the shit out of me, okay, baby?"

You only let out another whine, grabbing the sheets tightly.

"Hey." He slams his hips into you one more time, lodging himself deep and staying there as he slides his hands up and cups your face. "If you want me to stop, fucking slap me. That will tell me you really can't handle it. Okay?"

"Yes, Daddy," you whimper quietly as his cock twitches inside of you, his knuckles stroking your cheek softly.

"Say it back to me, I want to know you understand before we continue."

You lean into his touches, blinking your teary eyes to try and see him clearly, "if I want you to stop, I'll slap you."

"Good girl~" He pats your cheek softly before slapping you, his hips grinding into you again in the next second and knocking your brains hardwiring loose from the mix of stimulation. "Knew you could take more- this little pussy can't get enough of me, can it?"

He huffs a laugh as you gasp in response, forcing himself to pull out. There's so many positions he wants to try with you, he can't let himself stick to one.

You slump on the messy bed, panting to catch your breath as he pulls off his hoodie. "Fuck, angel," he chuckles, rubbing your trembling thighs softly, "you got me working up a sweat... come here~"

You don't have much choice as he pulls you down the bed until your hips hang off the edge, shaky feet planted on the floor. "Where are you goin'?" You pout as he stands, wiping your face as you look up at him.

"Nowhere at all, pretty girl~ I'm gonna stay right here and make you cum the rest of your brains out."

You breathe sharply as he plunges three of his fingers into your messy hole, curling them right into your g-spot. "Ohhh, fuck! Why, why, why- give me your cock, Daddy!"

"I don't want to cum yet," he hums nonchalantly, smirk growing on his lips as you press your legs together, shoving at his hand as you start sobbing all over again. "I want you to be completely stupid when I stuff you full of my cum."

"Yunie!!"

"Baby~" He mimics you, leaning one of his knees on the bed as he hovers over you, "you gonna be a good messy doll and squirt?"

"Ah! Ah! Please!"

"C'mon, love," he pins you to the bed by your throat, leaving your fidgeting useless, "one more for me, you can do it-"

"I can't! I can't! I c- cumming!"

He watches in a twisted awe as your jaw slacks and your eyes roll back into your head, your legs tensing up as you squirt with every thrust of his fingers. A broken whine leaves your throat as you droop into the bed, your feet hit the floor again with a thud. The splash as he pulls his fingers out makes you hide your face in your arms, sniveling as he licks his hand clean.

"One more."

You groan as he turns your boneless body onto your side, wailing as he slowly slips his member back into you. "Daddy! I al- I already did! That was one more!"

"Hm?" He pretends to think, bending over you and placing his hands on either side of you; admiring your side profile as he sinks balls deep into you. "No? I don't think I said that~"

"Y-you didn't? I though-"

"Shhh," he laughs softly, petting your head as you pout, "I did, princess. I did say that, I'm just playing with you~"

"You play meannn~ My brain isn't workin' right now," you bite your lip as he starts his thrusts slowly.

"Good," he lays his chest across your side, making sure your hands are free before he starts hammering into your over-sensitive cunt. "Then I can fill you up now~"

You slap at the bed, fist the sheets tightly, but you never come towards him — because the pinch of pain that comes with the mind-numbing pleasure is just as delicious. Even if your body doesn't seem to agree, trying to flatten yourself and get away.

"Where the f-fuck you think you're going?" He hums, wrapping an arm under your leg and gripping your thigh tightly; pulling you into his barbaric thrusts. "You said you wanted my cock, so just lay there and take it, sweet girl~"

You stutter out the start to ten different pleads at one, babbling nonsense as he digs into you with the all new angle. You grab at everything you can reach, eventually reaching one of the pillows and clutching it to your chest; hiding your face in it as you scream and cry. He's really, officially fucked your brains out and you are a-fucking-okay with it.

And so is he, dangling himself over the edge and slowing down whenever he gets too close to tumbling over because he still wants more. He wants to watch you hug his pillow as you shake with the overwhelming pleasure forever. But in the end, he's still just a mortal man and you still feel fucking heavenly as your walls tremble around him.

He pulls out for only the second it takes to shove you onto your back; already slipping back in as your head falls flat on the mattress. He pulls the pillow from your death grip and slots himself in your arms instead, letting you hold him tightly as he ruts into you. He wraps his arms under yours and grabs your shoulders, anchoring you in place.

"Poor baby, look at you~" He kisses up the tears that have slipped down to your neck. "Oh, god, look at you..." He says again, trailing off in a low moan. "You're so perfect."

You can barely recognize that he's speaking to you, head lolling side to side; feeling completely empty. "Daddyyy~" You manage to slur as you dig your nails into his back, your hips still turning this way and that to get way from his unrelenting thrusts.

"Mh- fuck! Stop s-squirming, pretty girl," he pants as he leans to your ear, "you ready to take my cum?"

"Yeah!" You huff out, voice dripping with tears and overwhelming ecstasy.

He doesn't have to say anything else, and he can't anyway — too busy gasping for air as his orgasm knocks it all out of his lungs.

Your soft whimpers are the only thing grounding him to Earth. His grip on your shoulder is so tight that it will undoubtedly bruise. His eyes are closed and rolled back, his jaw dropped and his heavy breaths meeting your neck.

"Fffffuck!" He whines with one last thrust, stilling deep inside of you with his warm release. "Good fucking hell, princess..."

He kisses your neck softly, sucking a deep mark as you sniffle and catch your breath, trembling below him.

"Shhh," he coos genuinely soft, rubbing your shoulders gingerly, "Daddy's got you."

"D-don't leave." You plead quietly, clinging to him like your life depends on it.

"Never, doll." He promises just as quietly, letting the air settle around you and letting you collect your brains, "I'll hold you until you're ready to let go."

"Never," you pout, squeezing him in your arms tighter.

"Not ever?" He chuckles fondly, slipping one of his hands to wipe your cheeks softly.

"Nope, you have to hold m-me forever."

"Not a problem, angel~"

ꕥ

A couple of hours genuinely felt like forever as you held each other, talking about everything and nothing all at once until you fell asleep.

Fucked back to sleep, just like he said he'd do.

Even as your breathing evens out to a slow, steady pace and your eyes close peacefully — he still holds you. You didn't say you were ready to let go. So, he stays right where he's at.

In nothing but his boxers, holding you; in nothing but his hoodie with it pulled over your head and shielding your face from the early afternoon sun that shines through the blinds and casts stripes of warmth across your near-naked bodies.

You sleep curled up on his side while he lays on his back, one arm securely around you at all times as he watches the birds on the fire escape.

Something is nagging the back of his mind, and he can't figure it out. He tries to ignore it, and just fully enjoy holding you. But —

His morning cigarette.

It hits him completely out of nowhere. He didn't smoke when he woke up, for obvious reasons. And even now, a couple of hours later; he still isn't craving one.

He looks down at you, your face hidden in his chest. "You little witch~" He giggles to himself, rubbing your back softly as you stir.

He has been smoking less and less with you around because you started to pout about the health of his lungs. But to not even have a craving? He hasn't been craving free for years.

Even with every technique he's used. Snapping a rubber band when he has a craving, not keeping his cigarettes in reach, keeping his hands busy — lollipops and gum was the closest thing that got his mind off of it. Only for a few minutes, though.

Never hours.

Never filling him with a satisfaction deep in his bones.

Never like you.

"Yunie?"

"Hey, baby," he smiles softly, looking over you slowly as you lift your head, "good nap?"

"Mhm," you smile back, groaning as you lean up and peck his cheek.

"You hurtin'?" He helps you sit up slowly, rubbing your lower back.

"Yeah, you fuck like a mad-man."

"Weeeell-"

"I heard it when I said it," you shove his shoulder with a laugh, eyes shining as you look up at him. "Gimme a kiss."

"Oh, yes, ma'am," he jokes, but he leans down as he stands and he kisses you, just like you asked.

"Another?"

And he gives it to you, lifting you off of the bed gently and holding the back of your thighs as you wrap your legs around him.

"One more?"

You get it as he sits you on the bathroom counter carefully, chucking into your lips.

"One more," you grab his wrist and tug him back when he goes to turn on the shower.

"I just gave you one more~"

"Nuh-uh~"

"Nuh-uh?" He grins, cupping your cheeks and pecking your lips repeatedly while you laugh softly. "Is that enough 'one more's, pretty girl?"

"I'll take 'em~"

You let him go to the shower, watching him with a smile stuck on your lips. "I love you, Yunho."

His back straightens out, eyes slightly wide; like he's forgotten you admitted it while he was ruining you earlier.

"I meant it when I said it earlier, I don't want you to think I just- cause the heat of the moment, y'know? I really do love y-"

"You stop talking before I get hard again." He cuts you off with a blush on his cheeks, looking away to check the temperature of the water. "C'mere," he has a smile just a permanent on his face as you do while he pulls the hoodie off of you. "I love you," he says with a kiss to your head, "don't say it like that unless you want me to fuck your sore cunt, though."

"Like what?"

"All soft and shit."

You laugh as he helps you into the shower, holding your arm as you step in before ridding himself of his boxers and joining you.

"Should I say it meanly, then?"

"God, that's even worse. I love it when you're mean." He caresses your sides softly, letting the water run down your aching back.

"You perv~" You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him to you as he moans dramatically.

"Oh, I'm hard~"

"Shut up," you smile widely, crashing your lips into his. Both of your eyes fall shut, moving together in tandem.

He towers over you, leaning down to meet you without forcing you to be on your toes. He guides you by your hips until your back hits the cold tiles, making you gasp.

You moan around his tongue, kitten licking against it as he laps at everything he can reach until you both run out of air. He places his forehead to yours gently, "thank you, doll."

"Hm?" The water runs down his jaw and drips onto your chest. "What for?"

"Being mine."

ꕥ

Three days later, your heat is still broken and you're still staying at Yunho's apartment.

As you make your way up the vast stairwell after getting his mail; you notice it.

The shadow that comes up the stairs, turning the corners right after you do.

You slow down, and their footsteps echo for a moment before they do as well.

You go to grab your knife from your pocket — only to realize you don't have it. You don't have anything. You're in nothing but one of his large hoodies and a pair of pajama pants, your sneakers pulled on lazily.

You stop completely; so does your stalker.

You pull your sneakers over your heels quickly, glancing down the stairwell and only seeing their shadow against the wall. Can't even be bothered to hide all the way?

It's much too short to be The Joker.

You pull the hood over your head, covering your hair and tying the strings in a tight bow. Less to grab, the better.

Yunho should be coming home soon. If you can't scare off your stalker, he certainly will — he'll do much more than scare them.

"Are you stupid?" You call down loudly, your voice bouncing on the walls and down the long drop down the middle of the stairs.

The shadow doesn't move.

"Hey! Jackass! I know you're following me!"

It takes a few seconds for the person to speak. "...I don't want to hurt you."

It's a man, a younger one.

"So stalking is just a fun way to pass the time?"

He takes the remaining steps to turn the corner, and you drop the mail onto the floor with a dramatic sigh.

He's much too buff for you to fight off on your own.

"I just need your help with something. It's in your best interest to comply. I don't want to hurt you, but I can."

"Out with it then." You lean your shoulders on the wall, face to face with him as he ascends the stairs slowly.

"I need you to call The Joker."

You raise your eyebrows, "mh? What makes you think I know him?"

"You've been his gal-pal for a couple months now." He stops on the same flat landing as you, a few good inches away. An arm, or a legs length away. "I saw him leave. Call him back."

"Sorry, I'm not his assistant-"

Your sass earns you a gun to your face, staring down the barrel of it with a blank face even as your heart thuds.

"Call him back."

"I don't have my phone."

When he reaches to grab your shoulder, you kick him in the stomach; shoving him down the stairs and running before he gets the chance to get back up.

"Get back here!"

He's up and his footsteps are booming behind you much faster than you'd like. But then, he does look at least semi-professional. He's probably here to kill or at least threaten Yunho — and you happen to be his best bet at getting what he wants.

He grabs the hoodie, and it yanks you to a stop; but thankfully it protects your scalp from his grasp. "Fucking should have seen it coming," he groans as he drags your stumbling figure up the last set of stairs to the floor Yunho lives on, "of course Joker's bitch is feisty."

He seems to know exactly which door, pulling you right to it as you try to get out of the hoodie without falling flat on your face.

You're a bit too late, slipping out of it just as he throws you into the small entrance hallway. You scramble up as he puts the chain lock and the deadbolt on; racing mind trying to think of a game plan.

You can't do much without risking getting a bullet in the process. You need to be alive for him to use you as bait — but you can survive a shot to the leg or arm.

"Let's try again... Call The Joker."

ꕥ

"Yes, doll?" he answers the phone as calm as ever, leaning his head on his hand as he sits at his desk; business partner sitting across from him, on his own phone with a slightly annoyed look.

"Yunie..."

He shoots up out of his chair, letting it clatter to the floor. Your voice is tense and full of unshed tears. He's out the door before the man in his office even notices he'd gotten up.

He knows deep in his gut that something is wrong.

"I need you to come home. I think- think I'm sick."

"Am I on speaker phone?" He asks quickly as he gets into his car.

"No, I'm okay... I ju- I just need you to be here."

Bullshit. You are far from okay. But you do need him to be there.

People are honking at him as he weaves his way into traffic. "Is someone there, baby?"

"Mhm."

"Did they hurt you?" He'll kill them. If the answer is yes or if it's no; he'll kill them either way.

"Just a little-" You get cut off by a hushed whisper. He's tries to listen, but it's all in vain. The person is too far away from the microphone. You clear your throat, "will you come home?"

"I'm on the way. Try to get them to the living room."

"M'kay... See you soon."

ꕥ

"My hands are getting numb." You deadpan from your place on the couch, sitting with your back against it and your feet up on the table. "Can't you loosen-"

"No."

He tied your wrists together with some rope, and it was tight enough to be chaffing your skin with every attempt you made to loosen it.

"...Well, fuck you too then."

"Are you always this mouthy?" He groans from the chair he'd placed facing the front door, ready to shoot The Joker the second it opens. With every second that passes, you're more and more afraid that that will be the outcome.

Your throat is dry and your stomach is in knots.

"Most the time, yeah."

A soft clink catches your attention. It sounds like it came from the bedroom behind you.

You tilt your head over the back of the couch — and your eyes light up as you meet Yunho's dark gaze while he crawls in through the window by the fire escape.

He slips in as silent as a mouse, pulling a knife from his back pocket as he stands. With a metal finger to his lips, he approaches.

You look back to the intruder with relief on your face. His back is still turned as Yunho makes his way into the apartment quietly. He stops briefly to give you a once over, ruffling your head before continuing on to the man.

"Ahem."

The man jumps, gun aimed — but quickly knocked out of his grasps when Yunho slams the butt of his knife into his hand.

"Fucking stupid jackass," Yunho groans as he grabs the man by the hair, knife to his throat and eyes daring him to move. "Do you think you're going to get out of here alive after what you've done? Do you think I won't gut you like a fucking fish?! Breaking into my home? Threatening my girl?!"

He shakes his head quickly, making The Joker scoff. "Coward on top of being an idiot, how did you make it this far in life?"

He drags the man over to your tensely seated form by his hair, forcing him to kneel. "Beg."

"W-what?"

"Beg for her forgiveness. Make it convincing enough and I'll make your death quick." He can sense the man's hesitation, which is fair — because he's lying through his teeth. "Scouts honor~"

"Please, Joker, this was just a job! Your girl was never gonna get h-" He gets his head slammed into the armrest for his troubles.

"I said beg for her forgiveness. There's no need to beg me, it won't get you anywhere. She's the one you've disrespected, look at her!" Yunho yells right in the man's face, yanking his hair again as they both look at you.

You seem almost unfazed by the situation, but your heart is beating wildly. You've never seen Joker so angry. He was calm and collected when he was showing you all of the ways he knew how to make a man scream. The run-in with the detective might come close, but you didn't hear anything he had said.

Now, though, he may as well have steam coming from his ears, "look at her! Tied up in the safety of her own home-" You catch onto that, but he doesn't; too lost in his rage. "Did he hurt you, princess?"

The way he goes from absolutely livid to soft as cotton when speaking to you makes your heart flutter. "Not bad. My wrists are bleeding a bit..."

"Poor baby, c'mere." He shoves the man to the floor and steps on his chest, making him wheeze. "We need to wrap you up when we're done here, don't let me forget."

He does another once over of you as you stand up and hold your wrists towards him. "He didn't touch you, angel?"

"No." You shake your head quickly, sighing with relief as he carefully cuts the ropes.

"Hmph," he pouts as he holds your hand gently, turning your arm to get a better look. "One thing this idiot did right, I guess. He can die with his dick still attached to his body."

"Joke-"

"Shut up!" Both of you yell down at the man before going back to looking at one another softly.

"How did he get in?" Yunho presses more of his weight on the man as he struggles.

"Caught him following me up the stairs, drug me up here after I pushed him down a flight-"

He holds a finger towards you to tell you to wait and kicks the man across the face. "Would you stop fucking fidgeting, asshole? I'm trying to listen to her! Go on, love."

"He was watchin' us. He said he saw you leave. He-" You sneer, glaring down at him, "he called me a bitch."

"A bitch?" Yunho looks down at the shivering man, almost laughing. Either this man is the stupidest man in Gotham or he was hired by the person with that title. Sending such an unprofessional after The fucking Joker. "You called her a bitch?"

"No- no, no, no!" He tries to deny it, getting a kick; this time from you, to his leg.

"Liar."

"No, I sw-"

"So you're calling her a liar, then?" Yunho replaces his foot with his knee, leaning over the man and dragging his blade against his cheek. "My sweet girl would never lie. Right?" He looks over his shoulder to you with a manic, dark smile.

"Never, Mister J."

"See?" He twirls the knife to get a better grip before driving it into the man's shoulder, making him yell. "I told you." The blood spurts onto his suit as he yanks it out.

You hover over the both of them, jaw tight.

"You said it was a job," Yunho says evenly, like the man isn't writhing beneath him and bleeding all over the floor, "who hired your sorry ass?"

"Falcone-"

"Ugh!" Yunho rolls his eyes dramatically, "seriously? That fucking guy is back?"

"He wants-"

"I know what he wants. He isn't going to get it. Especially not if he keeps sending dimwits like you after me. Baby?" He turns to you, making you perk up.

"Yes?"

"How do you think we should send a message that says 'fuck off'?"

"We could..." You hum, coming up behind him and looking down at the man's begging eyes as you place your hands on Yunho's shoulders; relaxing him ever so slightly. "Carve it into him?"

"Wait-"

"That's a great idea, doll! Here, hold this." You take the knife without a second thought, backing up while he yanks the man up quickly. "You won't be alive for it, don't worry," he chuckles as he slams the man to the wall; banging his head against it and making him too dizzy to fight. "Just know," he smiles darkly as he reaches his hand out. You place the knife in his open palm, skipping over and looking around his arm.

"You had this coming. Nobody gets to touch her, so-" He shoves the blade into the man's stomach, "nothing too personal. No hard feelings, right?"

By the time the man recovers from the slam to his head, he's already half dead. The Jokers blade jabbing his torso too many times to count. But if someone were to do so, it would be around stab number 16 that he started laughing.

Quietly, at first. Then it's full fits of chuckles. Then, pure manic laughter. The last sound that anyone killed by the man has heard. His mocking, gleeful sounds as their life force bleeds away.

You look away from the carnage, instead looking up at Yunho. His lips stretched wide with his cackles, crinkles in the corners of his eyes.

He's fucking crazy.

And you smile at him.

When the man becomes nothing but dead weight, Yunho finally steps back; panting softly as he watches the body slump to the floor. He covers his mouth another giggle slips up his throat, peeking over his arm at you.

"Yunho?"

He hesitates for a second. "Yes?"

"Have you ever fucked in front of a dead body?"

"...No?"

"You want to?"

You're fucking crazy.

And he smiles at you.

"Absolutely."

ꕥ

【jokers♱】 @mentallyunpresent @fireseo @beomkyum @spicyhotteokkay @vinylphwoar @ramadiiiisme @m00njinnie @love--in-stayville @xoenhalover @roxhanah @zeilixir @aurorasjoongie @palchokitty

₊‧⁺stardust˖⋆ @sousydive @sunnysidesins @onyxmango @devilzliaison @ateezswonderland @queenofdumbfuckery @emilysecresy

[fairsweetlonging]

system wardrobe malfunctions and small scenario pushers: exteme edition au

after his qi deviation, shen qingqiu starts working on slowly building up relations with his fellow peak lords and disciples; saving liu qingge in the caves, spoiling luo binghe rotten, freely praising his students, inviting the sect leader over for tea, he's a whole new person!

and yet... his friendliness levels aren't going up.

he knows it's a bit icky to judge his relations with other people based on numbers an alien entity is giving him, but he needs them to survive, and he swears that once he's above a certain threshold (somewhere between "civil" and "friendly", he figures), he will mute every and all notifications regarding it.

but they're just not going up. since his deviation he's at least managed to claw his way from "hostile" to "tolerant" with most of them, but some are somehow still stuck in the "aloof" section! they wouldn't even care if he died!

he just doesn't know what he's doing wrong; he understands these things take time, but it feels so bad when people refuse to sit next to him or sigh when they're assigned a mission with him, especially since it's not his fault.

now, it so happens that, one day, the system hears his woes and takes pity on him.

【 user seems to experience difficulty increasing character favor levels 】

you could say that

【 would host like to utilize our special deluxe package to activate 'The Path of Blossoming Hearts and Unspoken Affections' free of charge? ₊˚⊹♡ 】

though shen qingqiu isn't trustful of the system's antics, he can't deny that so far they have helped him well enough, and since it's free of charge with no penalties, wouldn't it be a waste not to use it? the title is a bit dubious, but was the original shen qingqiu not known for his frozen heart? for never sparing a single nice word to anyone? this could be his chance to let it blossom without the system nagging on his characterization.

【 accept optional mission? [yes]/[no] 】

he picks [yes].

two weeks later, he wishes he hadn't.

the package is devided into small scenarios that mostly appear at random, ranging from small dialogue challenges where he has to pick the right option (he really doesn't like those, the dehumanization of it makes his skin crawl), to the equivalent of two rivals getting locked in a room together.

the first few scenarios are minor and not very impactful, to the point where he's finished three of them and his favor count with qi qingqi has increased a whopping +2 (still "aloof") and that of wei qingwei +5 (still "tolerant").

his fourth scenario, however, reminds him of exactly why he should never accept gifts from strange screens floating in the sky.

he's on a nighthunt with liu qingge to slay a mirebeast that's been terrorizing travelers—an amphibious creature with thick, slimy skin, a crocodile tail and a leech-like mouth that shoots mucus when threatened... and shooting mucus it did.

while his clothes can easily be cleaned with a cleaning talisman, he never feels truly clean himself unless he actually bathes. luckily, there's a beautiful, glass-like pond nearby that's surrounded by natural demonic-repellent vegetation, a win! he's just draped his clothes over a nearby branch and submerged himself in the water, when the system rings out.

【 heads up! small scenario "Stolen Silks and Sunlit Waters" is about to begin! penalty: none. wishing user good luck (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) 】

hold up—stolen what.

stolen silks. his silks. stolen by a mossy-jade stag that happens to scratch its huge antles on the exact tree he hung his clothes on, which rattles the branch and causes his robes to fall exactly onto its head, spooking it into a gallop as it disappears into the forest.

how. how does that even happen.

shen qingqiu is just about to get out of the water when of course liu qingge chooses that exact moment to stomp into the glade looking for him, even though he should have been miles away to the village to ensure the people the beast is dead.

for anyone looking in from the outside, it's not a bad picture: shen qingqiu, with his hair pulled up and away from his slender neck, submerged to his (very bare!) pale shoulders in golden sunlit waters, surrounded by lotus flowers and lily pads. to liu qingge, this must be a terrible view, apparently—shen qingqiu can think of no other reason that would cause his face to flush so bright red.

liu qingge tosses his outer robe on the grass between them and turns resolutely around. it's only a bit insulting—is shen qingqiu not pretty enough to try and sneak a look at? even just a glimpse? meanwhile liu qingge is trying really hard to mentally recite the ethics sutra to not fixate on the sound of shen qingqiu getting out of the water (naked!!) or the rustle of fabrics as he wraps liu qingge's robe around his (naked!!!!) body. when liu qingge turns around he flushes an even darker shade as he sees shen qingqiu's bare legs and feet sticking out from under the robes.

"thanking shidi," says shen qingqiu, who notices none of this, as he pulls the robe a little closer around him, "for coming to this one's untimely rescue."

liu qingge grunts, turns, and walks away.

【 congratulations! liu qingge's favor increased. character satisfaction points +50. please continue to work hard! 】

shut up

【 ૮(˶╥︿╥)ა 】

they return to the sect victorious, but very embarrassed. the mirebeast gets all the blame. where his clothes are? well—uh, gone. the mucus dissolved them. yes he knows that's not how mucus works but it did this time okay?!!

yue qingyuan acts a bit strange seeing shen qingqiu wearing liu qingge's outer robes. he almost qi deviates when he finds out his shidi is wearing absolutely nothing under it. it's all very dramatic. apparently the sect is made up of people who shower with their clothes on or something.

【 ⁺‧₊˚bonus scenario!!˚₊‧⁺˖ interactive dialog quest: pick the best suited options to win additional favor points! 】

i don't like where this is going

"shidi?" yue qingyuan asks, looking at him with those big worried puppy eyes.

【 choice A: (demure) this shidi is cold. will you not invite me in at least?

choice B: what are you looking at?! mind your own business stupid old man!

choice C: i'm in love with liu qingge 】

WHAT

if he was drinking tea he would have spat it out, and then coughed himself to death. what the hell kind of options are these!!

【 system has based these options on what will earn (or lose!) user the most points. please pick one. 】

[ admin notes: option A will earn +60 points. option B will neither increase nor decrease points. option C will decrease -100 satisfaction points and increase +200 heartbreak points ]

shen qingqiu silently curses the system. option B is way out of line, even for the original shen qingqiu, who probably would insult yue qingyuan, but not with so little class. he doesn't even consider option C an actual option. and, well, he is cold. and wet. and almost naked. he would like a warm bath and some clothes. A it is then.

he doesn't like the way yue qingyuan's face light up when he grits out the dialog.

【 congratulations! yue qingyuan's favor increased. character satisfaction points +60! keep up the good work! 】

he can't keep doing this much longer.

unfortunately, he does have to keep doing this for much longer.

he's just about to go to bed when someone knocks on the door. luo binghe is already sleeping so he goes himself. just as he's about to open the door the system rings out—but it's too late.

shen yuan is used to wearing old tshirts to bed and no pants (he hates the feeling of his legs being restricted while he sleeps), so he doesn't really care when the only equivalent of this in pidw is a silk nightgown. his mother wore them, his sister wore them. hell, one of his brothers once bought one for fun and ended up using it for months. it's florally embroidered with puffy sleeves and reaches to his knees, that's decent enough, right?

【 heads up! small scenario "Dreamy Encounters at Dusk" is about to begin! good luck! 】

he has no idea what that's supposed to mean and he doesn't care. he opens the door, and it's mu qingfang. not... that unusual, but still.

"can this master help you?"

it takes mu qingfang a moment to remember what he's here for, it seems, because he stares at shen qingqiu for a good few seconds before raising an eyebrow like he's caught him doing something wrong.

"does shen-shixiong always answer the door like this?"

shen qingqiu glares back. "only when unsolicited guests come stumbling around my porch in the middle of the night."

"fair enough."

apparently he's here on behalf of yue qingyuan, who had asked him to do a post mission check up as soon as he was available, which is now. which yue qingyuan had apparently forgotten to relay to shen qingqiu himself. awesome.

he invites mu qingfang in (he can hardly close the door on him, it's late for him too!), and sits through the usual poking and prodding.

the system is prodding, too.

【 would user like some advice on how to maximize point earning? 】

no

【 ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀) system is only trying to help!! 】

i really don't need your help with this, thanks. i can keep a conversation on my own.

【 optional system booster: not mandatory. user may choose to decline this quest.

option 1: this one appreciates your care. the hardship is... unexpected. (look away shyly). i find it difficult to accept help sometimes, even when i need it.

option 2: i'm in love with you.

option 3: stand up and pretend to faint into his arms 】

shen qingqiu is about to spit blood—what the HELL is this!!! why do all your options make you look bipolar HUH??? and what's this about professing my love to people?!! why is that always an option??! this isn't a dating simulator, stupid system, they'll think i'm crazy!

【 all these options result in an increase of character satisfaction points (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) 】

HOW

【 (ó﹏ò｡) user seems misinformed about character preferences. [mu qingfang] likes to take care of people! 】

... i decline the quest. booster. whatever. i'll figure it out myself. and stop talking about him like he's some one dimensional character!

they hear stumbling coming from the little side room, then the creaking of floorboards. binghe peeks through the door, hair sleep-ruffled and his robes pulled on over his sleeping clothes.

"shizun?" he asks, worried, "what's wrong? why is mu-shishu here?"

【 ⁺‧₊˚bonus scenario!!˚₊‧⁺˖ interactive dialog quest: pick the best suited options to win additional favor points! 】

oh god, not again.

【 option A: (gently) nothing is wrong, binghe. this master is alright. go back to sleep.

option B: (gently) nothing is wrong, binghe. this master is alright. (invite him to sit next to you during the examination)

option C: (gently) nothing is wrong, binghe. this master is alright. mu-shidi is just keeping me company tonight. 】

huh. so you can give meaningful options that i would actually consider picking?

【 ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜ 】

[admin notes: option A will decrease -100 points for luo binghe. option B will increase +20 points for luo binghe. option C will decrease -300 points for luo binghe, and increase +20 points for mu qingfang. option A & C increase luo binghe jealousy levels with 400 points].

[foreveia]

take two ⤨ iwaizumi hajime

⨭ genre; fluff, idiots to lovers but like they're actually so dumb

⨭ pairing; iwaizumi x fem!reader

⨭ word count; 5.7k

⨭ descriptions; your boss has been trying to set you up with her son for months, but as it turns out at the holiday party... you've already met him before.

⨭ warnings; explicit language and dialogue, no graphic content tho, alcohol

⨭ a/n; fun little short fic to fill the fix to publish something lolol enjoy this iwa love dump as i work on my next long fic (tell me in the comments if y'all like these better)

song i listened to writing this: 'hold your breath' by chase atlantic

one.

There are exactly three things you know to be true about Iwaizumi Emi:

She is the best divorce attorney in Tohoku, possibly the country.

She is the kind of woman who could negotiate her way out of murder charges and secure the victim’s house in the settlement.

She is, without a doubt, trying to set you up with her son.

You respect her. You admire her. You are, on occasion, lowkey terrified of her.

Which is why you’re currently sitting at your desk, nodding at all the appropriate intervals while she breezes through yet another pitch about why her son and you are, in her professional opinion, a perfect match.

“He’s back from Irvine for the summer,” she says, skimming a property settlement document like it personally offended her. She tosses it onto your pile nonchalantly, and you let out a short sigh because it’s just more backend filing to do and, despite your adoration for your career path and real passion towards legal work, entry jobs in the firm are mostly busy work. “I really think you’ll like him. He’s—”

You tune out. Not in an obvious way, of course—no, you’re a professional. You sprinkle in the occasional mmhmm and sounds great so she doesn’t catch on, but this isn’t your first rodeo. You’ve heard this pitch before—multiple times. Hajime is intelligent, responsible, not an idiot like some of these men out here, blah blah blah.

It’s not that you have anything against him, really. It’s just that you’ve spent months perfecting the art of dodging your boss’s matchmaking attempts, and frankly, you don’t have the energy to entertain her latest scheme.

“You’re finally going to meet him at the firm’s ball this weekend,” Emi continues, finally looking up from her paperwork, her smile entirely too satisfied.

You blink. “Oh.”

“He’s excited to meet you too.”

Now that is new. Usually, these monologues are strictly one-sided—I told him about you! and You two will get along so well! But he’s excited to meet you too? That’s an escalation. That’s a game-changer. That means he knows about you. He has an opinion about you.

You resist the urge to groan. Instead, you summon a polite, professional smile—the same one you use when dealing with particularly insufferable clients. “Looking forward to it,” you say, because what else are you supposed to say to the woman who could single-handedly end your career if she wanted to?

In reality, the only thing you’re looking forward to about the ball is the open bar. Being in your early twenties means being woefully broke, and you’d be lying if you said the thought of unlimited free alcohol wasn’t a strong motivator.

So, you strike a deal with yourself: you’ll put on a fancy dress, endure painful heels, and let Emi parade you in front of her son like a prize show poodle—all in exchange for an endless supply of pinot noir, cocktail shrimp, and, if you play your cards right, an entire bottle of champagne to sneak home in your purse.

It’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make.

two.

Because you’re an adult with an absolutely thriving social life (read: you have two friends who are willing to tolerate your bullshit after 6 PM), you, Yachi, and Kiyoko are now seated at your favorite little izakaya, wedged into a corner booth with plates of karaage and a pitcher of beer between you. 

Kiyoko is talking about wedding venues. Because she’s engaged. To Tanaka. Which is objectively insane because in your head, they’re still in that “grossly obsessed with each other but pretending they’re just friends” phase, even though they’ve been together for years. The whole thing is a crime against single people everywhere, but you are supportive because your already jaw-dropping friend is somehow glowing even brighter now that she has a fat rock on her ring finger. She looks lighter, happier. She deserves it.

Yachi, meanwhile, is explaining—between delicate sips of her beer—that she’s too swamped with work to even think about dating. Which, yeah. Fair. The woman works harder than most people you know, so you respect it.

Then, as the conversation naturally shifts to your love life (as it always does, because you’re the group’s designated mess), you sigh, sinking into your seat dramatically.

“I haven’t had sex in months.”

There’s a beat of silence before Kiyoko and Yachi both roll their eyes in unison, like they rehearsed it.

“Oh my God,” Yachi mutters.

“You cannot still be caught up on GDD,” Kiyoko says flatly, pouring herself another drink.

“Okay, first of all,” you say, holding up a finger, “it is not about him. It’s just a general fact about my current state of being.”

“Uh-huh,” Kiyoko hums, entirely unconvinced.

“Second of all,” you continue, undeterred, “GDD was life-changing, and I feel like I should be allowed to mourn the lack of that level of—of excellence in my life.”

“Life-changing,” Yachi repeats, deadpan. “You hooked up with him once.”

“Yeah, and my life was changed.”

GDD—Good Dick Dude, as he has been dubbed by your dear, unsupportive friends—was a guy you hooked up with in January after a truly legendary New Year’s Eve party.

The night itself had been pure chaos. Hinata had somehow scored an invite to this insane rooftop party—one of those bougie, exclusive, if-you-know-you-know events where you absolutely do not belong but somehow manage to fake it enough to get through the door. He’d gotten a few plus-ones, which is how you ended up there, sipping champagne you definitely couldn’t afford and making out with a guy who, to this day, remains one of the most mind-blowing hookups of your entire life.

Gorgeous, buff, and dangerous with his hands. The kind of guy who knew exactly what he was doing, which, honestly? A rarity these days. You barely remember his name—something short, easy to moan—but you do remember his stupidly perfect smirk and the way he all but ruined you against the nearest flat surface.

But then the party ended, the night faded into a haze, and you never saw him again.

Which is fine. It’s fine. Really.

You’re definitely not still thinking about it.

Kiyoko takes a sip of her beer, unimpressed. “You’ve been on, what? Five Hinge dates since then? Six?”

“Seven,” Yachi corrects.

You point at her. “Exactly.”

Kiyoko gives you a long, slow blink.

“I mean that as proof that I am not hung up on him!” you clarify. “I’ve been trying, okay? But the bar is in hell. Do you know how many ‘we should get drinks’ texts I get from guys who put crypto investor in their bios?”

Kiyoko sighs. “Okay, but let’s be real—are you actually giving any of these guys a chance?”

You open your mouth. Close it. Frown. “I mean… like… conceptually?”

“Right.”

Yachi, forever gentle but devastatingly perceptive, tilts her head at you. “Is it possible,” she says carefully, “that maybe none of these guys are measuring up because you’re subconsciously comparing them to him?”

You scoff. “That’s ridiculous.”

Is it ridiculous?

Because, okay, maybe—just maybe—no one has quite lived up to that night. And maybe you’re being a little unfair to the dating pool by expecting every single guy to have that same kind of chemistry with you. And maybe you do occasionally find yourself staring at random ceilings, wondering where GDD is now and if he even remembers you.

But still. That doesn’t mean anything.

You’re pretty sure.

“I hate you guys,” you grumble, stabbing aggressively at a piece of karaage.

Yachi pats your hand sympathetically. “We know.”

Kiyoko, ever the queen of smooth topic transitions, nudges the conversation in a new direction. “Speaking of your questionable taste in men, your boss is still trying to set you up with her son, correct?”

You groan, letting your head fall back against the booth. “Unfortunately, yes. And now, apparently, he’s excited to meet me.”

Yachi perks up. “Wait, so you are meeting him?”

“At the firm’s ball this weekend,” you say, waving a hand. “It’s fine. I’ll get a little wine drunk, take advantage of the seafood bar.”

Kiyoko raises an eyebrow. “So, you’re not going to entertain the idea of this Hajime guy at all?”

You scoff. “Absolutely not.”

Yachi hums, tilting her head in that way she does when she’s about to say something devastatingly reasonable. “I mean… what if Emi’s right?”

You blink. “What?”

“What if this is it?” she says, half-teasing, half-genuinely curious. “Like, what if you meet him and he’s actually your soulmate? Imagine if this whole time, your boss has been playing the long game, orchestrating your love story like some kind of corporate fairy godmother.”

You snort. Loudly. “Right. Because that’s totally my luck.”

Kiyoko and Yachi exchange a knowing look, but they let it go.

You take another sip of your beer, shaking your head. Hajime Iwaizumi—whoever he is—is not the love of your life.

That would be insane.

three.

You had to pull out your graduate school formal gown from the back of your closet for this, but wow, you really forgot just how good you look in red.

Your day-to-day work attire consists of pantsuits and button-ups, neatly tucked into cautiously ironed trousers, so you’ve honestly forgotten how nice it is to get dressed up once in a while. There’s something about slipping into a gown that fits like a dream, sweeping your hair up just right, and swiping on that perfect shade of lipstick that makes you feel invincible. Like you could negotiate a million-dollar deal, steal the firm’s best clients, and seduce someone’s husband all in the same breath.

Not that you would, obviously.

Probably.

The venue is ridiculous in the way all law firm events are ridiculous—held in a ballroom large enough to house a small country, chandeliers dripping in gold, servers weaving through the crowd with trays of champagne and fancy bruschetta topped with fucking caviar of all things. All this just to celebrate another year of making money off people’s divorces. Incredible the way capitalism works.

You’ve barely made it through your first glass of wine before Emi finds you.

“There she is,” she croons, linking her arm through yours. She looks positively radiant in an emerald gown, diamonds at her ears, and the kind of effortless elegance that comes from winning. You’d respect it more if she weren’t actively dragging you toward your inevitable doom. “Come on, sweetheart. Hajime’s here, and I cannot wait for you two to finally meet.”

You bite back a sigh, because of course. No warm-up period, no buffer—just straight to the matchmaking. “Can’t I get a few more drinks in me first?”

She waves a hand, utterly dismissing your complaints. “You’ll like him. I know you will.”

You doubt it. But you let her lead you anyway, mostly because you know resisting is pointless: your boss has the world’s most spell-blinding smile and enough charm to always get her way. Emi always wins.

She stops near the bar, where a man stands with his back to you, broad shoulders wrapped in a sharp black suit, one hand resting on the counter as he talks with someone just out of view.

Emi squeezes your hand. “Hajime,” she calls, her voice warm.

The man turns.

And every thought in your head immediately ceases to exist.

Because standing before you, looking unfairly good in a tailored suit and sipping from a glass of whiskey like he isn’t single-handedly ruining your life, is GDD.

Good Dick Dude.

Hajime Iwaizumi is Good Dick Dude.

Your brain short-circuits. This is not happening. This is some kind of fever dream, a cruel trick played by the universe to punish you for your sins.

Hajime’s sharp green eyes land on you, recognition flickering behind them, and then—oh no. 

He smirks. Like he knows exactly what’s running through your mind right now. Like he remembers everything.

Emi, completely unaware of your crisis, beams. “Hajime, this is the associate I’ve been telling you about.”

His mischievous, more than just amused smile widens. “Oh, I know who she is.”

Your soul leaves your body.

Because that voice? That voice is the same one that had whispered filth against your neck four months ago. The same voice that had laughed when you moaned his name. The same voice that had ruined you in ways you still haven’t fully recovered from.

You are going to die. Right here, right now, in the middle of this godforsaken gala.

“Hajime Iwaizumi,” he says smoothly, offering a hand. His palm is rough when you take it—calloused, strong, a stark reminder of exactly where those hands have been. His grip is firm, steady, and entirely too knowing.

You swallow, pasting on the best Oh wow, I am totally not spiraling internally smile you can manage. “Yeah,” you say weakly. “We’ve met.”

“Oh!” Emi beams, clasping her hands together like she’s just delighted by this new revelation. “That’s wonderful! I knew you two would get along.”

You let out a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a strangled choke. Hajime is still watching you, head tilted slightly, like he’s enjoying this: like he can see the exact moment you realize how deeply, horrifically screwed you are. Because there is no way Emi knows. She’s too composed, too pleased. If she had any inkling that her son and her associate had met four months ago in a completely inappropriate context, she’d have you both buried in litigation faster than you could say conflict of interest.

Which means Hajime is choosing to be a menace.

God, you’re going to kill him.

“Hajime just got back from Irvine a few days ago, for the start of his summer break,” Emi continues, completely oblivious to the absolute war waging behind your polite smile. “I’ve been telling him all about you, of course.”

You almost choke on your drink. “You have?”

“Of course I have!” Emi nods enthusiastically. “She’s one of the brightest associates we have, Hajime. Sharp, diligent, absolutely ruthless in negotiations—she reminds me of myself when I was her age.”

Your lips twitch. You do enjoy being compared to the most terrifying woman you’ve ever met, so it’s really too bad that this entire situation has you currently dying inside.

Hajime hums, eyes still locked on you. “Yeah,” he says, voice dipping just slightly. “She’s definitely memorable.”

Your entire body lights on fire.

Memorable.

Oh, he’s being insufferable on purpose.

Emi sighs happily, taking a sip of her champagne. “I knew you two would hit it off.”

You want to scream. You want to throw your drink in Hajime’s face. You want to rewind time and never step foot into that rooftop party.

Instead, you just smile tightly. “Mm-hmm.”

Hajime grins at your suffering. “So,” he says, tilting his glass in your direction, “how have you been?”

You resist the urge to kick him in the shins. “Busy,” you say, voice clipped. “Working.”

“Ah,” he says, nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah, that does sound like you.”

You stiffen. Hajime, you realize, is having the time of his life watching you squirm. And it’s only going to get worse.

Because Emi suddenly claps her hands together, eyes bright with mischief. “Oh! I should leave you two to chat,” she says. “Get to know each other properly.”

Oh. Oh no. Emi. Emi, please.

But before you can protest, she winks at you—winks, like she’s a fairy godmother orchestrating the perfect romance—and disappears back into the crowd.

And just like that, you are alone with him.

Hajime watches you over the rim of his glass, eyes gleaming with amusement. “So,” he says, smirking, “I see you haven’t forgotten me.”

Your jaw clenches. “You smug little—”

“You look good,” he interrupts smoothly, scanning you from head to toe. His gaze lingers, appreciative but blatantly teasing. “Red suits you.”

God, you want to strangle him. You cross your arms, willing yourself to stay calm. “You knew this whole time, didn’t you?”

He chuckles. “I had a feeling.”

“A feeling?”

He tilts his head, as if contemplating. “Well,” he says, “it wasn’t confirmed until I saw you.”

You glare. “You could’ve warned me.”

“And miss that reaction?” He grins. “Not a chance.”

You hate him. You hate that he looks so effortlessly good in a suit. You hate that his voice is still just as devastating as you remember. You hate that even now, months later, you can still feel the phantom weight of his hands on your hips, the rough scrape of his callouses against your skin, the way he had murmured just like that, baby against your ear—

You inhale sharply. Nope. Absolutely not. We are not thinking about that right now.

Hajime, unfortunately, definitely knows what you’re thinking about. His smirk is downright criminal. “So,” he says, leaning in slightly, voice low, “been a while, hasn’t it?”

You refuse to give him the satisfaction of blushing. “Oh, shut up.”

He laughs, warm and amused, and you are horribly aware that this night is only just beginning.

four.

Hajime happens to actually be a pretty intelligent and funny person, which is making it much, much harder to dodge his attempts at flirting and his mother’s attempts at forced-proximity matchmaking.

It was supposed to be easy. You were supposed to sip your wine, endure some polite small talk, and then fade into the crowd before Emi could corner you into any serious you’d make such a beautiful couple talk. But instead, you’re somehow still here, talking to him, because Hajime Iwaizumi is annoyingly easy to talk to.

Which is not fair. It’s not fair at all, actually.

He makes it look effortless, like this isn’t completely unhinged, like it’s not absolutely deranged that your boss has spent months trying to set you up with a man who has already—

You take a sip of your wine. You are not going to finish that thought.

Hajime watches you over the rim of his whiskey glass, looking entirely too entertained by this whole situation. “You seem tense.”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t argue. “Hey, could be worse,” he says. “At least my mom has good taste.”

You choke on your sip, feeling the bubbles tingle in your nose and really regretting every life decision you’ve made in the last six months. “Oh, my God.”

He laughs, tilting his glass in a mock toast.

You squint at him, wary and slightly annoyed, unable to fathom how he’s not also dying at this situation. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“I mean…” He shrugs, all easy amusement. “I’m just saying—this could be a lot worse. Imagine if she was trying to set you up with someone actually terrible.”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, swirling your wine. “You’re already pretty high on my list of worst-case scenarios.”

“See, now that hurts.”

You roll your eyes. “You’ll live.”

Before Hajime can respond—before you can regain any sense of control over this conversation—Emi appears out of nowhere, her eyes shining.

“There you two are!” she says, absolutely beaming. “It’s time for the first dance!”

You freeze.

Hajime—the absolute traitor—just raises an eyebrow. “First dance?”

“Yes! It’s tradition,” Emi says, already ushering you toward the ballroom floor. “Senior partners and their dates open the dance floor—it’s been that way for years.”

You dig your heels into the floor. “But I’m not—”

“Now, sweetheart,” Emi interrupts, entirely ignoring your panic, “you wouldn’t want to break tradition, would you?”

You stare at her, betrayed.

She smiles.

Oh, she planned this.

Hajime, standing beside you, lets out a quiet, amused sigh before draining the last of his whiskey. “Well,” he says, offering you a hand, “guess we should give the people what they want.”

You glare at him. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh,” he says. “That’s why you’re still holding my hand.”

You drop it immediately.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop him from leading you on to the dance floor. His hand slides around your waist, pulling you gently to the center of the ballroom; you’re struggling to ignore the far too many pairs of eyes on you two as he rearranges your arms around his neck.

And—oh, hell.

You forgot how solid he is.

His grip is firm but steady, his palm warm where it rests against your back. He moves easily, like this isn’t completely ridiculous, like your brain isn’t currently melting out of your ears.

“Relax,” Hajime murmurs.

You scowl. “I am relaxed.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah, totally.”

You hate him. You hate the way he’s looking at you—amused, interested, entirely too smug for someone who has already ruined your life once.

He leads you into a slow, easy step, and goddamn it, of course he’s good at this, too. His movements are effortless, confident. He keeps the rhythm perfectly, and you hate that you match him so well.

He tilts his head, watching you. “You’re thinking really hard about something.”

“No, I’m not.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Right. So you’re definitely not thinking about how good I am at this.”

You promptly step on his foot. He laughs, and it ignites your hatefire even more.

“Asshole,” you mutter.

“I was going to say you look good tonight,” he muses, unfazed. “But now I don’t know if you deserve the compliment.”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

Hajime smirks. “Touchy.”

He spins you as the music hits a crescendo, dropping you abruptly into a dip that catches you heavily off-guard. It makes you lock your fingers tighter around his neck, and when he lifts you back up, you nearly slam right into his very, very firm chest (what the hell, is this man made entirely of protein?), face first.

“What the fuck?” you huff, a little winded. “You are actually a horrible human being.”

Hajime hums, tilting his head slightly, his eyes flickering with something too smug, too entertained. “You keep saying that,” he muses, voice low enough that it barely carries past the space between you, “but I think you just like having someone to complain about.”

Before you can deliver a scathing reply, he tugs you a fraction closer. It’s subtle, barely noticeable to anyone watching, but you feel it—the shift of his fingers pressing against the small of your back, the way your body slots against his just enough for warmth to pass between you.

Your breath catches, and it’s infuriating how he notices. How his hold tightens, like he can read every single thought running through your head and is thrilled by it.

“You’re such a dick,” you frown, shifting slightly, trying to put some space between you.

Hajime chuckles, and the sound is entirely too satisfied. His mouth is right by your ear, so you practically feel it more than you really hear it, when he murmurs, “And what are you gonna do about it?”

Your brain short-circuits.

Because that—that—is not fair.

That is the kind of thing a man should not be allowed to say in that voice, in that low, teasing rumble, into your ear, while holding you against him like this.

It happens before you can even think about it.

Before you can register that you are, in fact, in the middle of a ballroom at your company’s annual gala. Before you can process the reality that Emi is somewhere in this crowd, and she has already been insufferable about this whole ordeal.

Before any of that can hit you, you grab the lapels of his stupidly well-fitted suit, tilt your chin up, and kiss him.

It’s instant, sharp, devastating. Your hands tighten against his chest as you crash into him, and Hajime—because he is the worst person alive—immediately reacts.

One hand presses firm into your back, the other finding its way to your jaw, fingers curling just slightly as he deepens the kiss without hesitation. His lips are warm, just the right mix of soft and steady, and when he angles his head just so—his nose brushing against yours, his thumb skimming your cheek—you feel yourself sink, like he’s pulling you under and you don’t even mind drowning.

It should not be this good.

It should not set your pulse racing like this, make you forget for a single, damning second that this is the worst possible thing you could be doing right now.

But it does. And for just a moment, nothing else exists. Not the party. Not the music. Not the fact that literally everyone is watching you right now. Just the heat of his mouth, the firm press of his fingers at your back, the way he exhales sharply like he wasn’t expecting this either, but he’s not about to stop it, not for anything in the world. 

And then you remember where you are.

You rip yourself away, blinking rapidly, your brain racing to catch up with what you just did.

And that is the moment you hear it: the loudest, most delighted squeal of your entire existence.

Your stomach plummets.

Because standing at the edge of the ballroom, her hands clasped together in sheer glee, is none other than Emi Iwaizumi herself. And she is positively vibrating with joy.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she gushes, and the way she looks at you is the exact way someone would look at their child who just announced they were getting married. “I knew it! I knew you two would be perfect together!”

Your soul leaves your body. You stare at her, horrified. You slowly turn back to Hajime—who, because he is an absolute menace, is still standing entirely too close, still holding you just slightly like he isn’t ready to let go.

And he is smiling.

The kind of smile that says I win. The kind of smile that says he is absolutely going to remind you of this for the rest of your natural life.

You physically have to stop yourself from shoving him away.

Instead, you inhale, sharp and deep, and will yourself to stay calm. Emi is still talking. She is still gushing. And you cannot deal with whatever she’s about to say next, so before she can so much as breathe, you turn back to Hajime, seize his wrist, and drag him off the dance floor, because if you don’t get away from this immediately, you are actually going to die of secondhand embarrassment and shame.

five.

This is because of your dry spell.

Your dry spell is the reason why your entire sense of self-control and awareness have gone out the window, and the reason why, now that you and Hajime have successfully escaped the ballroom onto the balcony, he is doubled over laughing and you are actually freaking out.

“Jesus fuck,” you groan, pressing your hands to your face. The cool night air does nothing to soothe the absolute catastrophe unfolding inside your brain. “I kissed you. I kissed you in front of everyone.”

Hajime straightens, still grinning like an asshole. “Yeah,” he says, entirely too pleased. “You did.”

You drop your hands, glaring. “Fuck you, dude. You’re not helping.”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t aware I needed to.”

You let out an incoherent noise of distress.

Hajime, because he is insufferable, just leans against the balcony railing, watching you unravel like it’s the best entertainment he’s had all night. His tie is slightly loosened now, his jacket unbuttoned, and somehow, he looks even better like this—a little rumpled, a little amused, looking at you like he already knows how this is going to end. 

That is actually unacceptable.

“This is your fault,” you snap, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You goaded me into it.”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so I made you kiss me?”

“Yes,” you declare, with full conviction, even though you definitely grabbed him first. “You set me up.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “You really can’t handle taking the L, huh?”

“I can handle it,” you insist. “I just don’t want to.”

His lips twitch like he’s trying very hard not to laugh again. “So you kissed me against your will?”

“Yes.”

Hajime tilts his head, amused. “Interesting. Because you seemed pretty into it.”

Your jaw drops. “I—you—shut up.”

He chuckles, and God, his voice is all warm and low and pleased with himself, and you really need to get it together before you do something stupid again.

You exhale sharply, crossing your arms and shifting your focus to the city skyline instead. Sendai stretches out before you in a sea of golden lights, a stark contrast to the absolute nightmare happening in your head. 

This is fine. You can recover from this. You just have to never, ever acknowledge it again.

You square your shoulders, turning back to him. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. We are going to go back inside, pretend this never happened, and move on with our lives.”

Hajime hums, considering. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work.”

You squint. “What do you mean that’s not gonna work?”

He pushes off the railing, taking a step closer—too close, enough that you feel it again, that ridiculous, stupid warmth that shouldn’t still be there after all this time. “I mean,” he says, slow, deliberate, “you’re acting like that kiss was a mistake.”

You blink. “Because it was.”

He lifts a single eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, but it comes out way too defensive, and Hajime knows it.

He grins. You decide that you hate him.

“I’m sure,” you insist, crossing your arms tighter, like that will somehow make this whole situation less insufferable. “It was a heat-of-the-moment thing. A lapse in judgment. That’s it.”

Hajime tilts his head, thoughtful. “Okay. So if I kissed you again right now, you wouldn’t like it.”

Your entire brain short-circuits. The audacity. The unbelievable nerve.

You gape at him. “You wouldn’t.”

His grin widens. “Wouldn’t I?”

You hate how smug he looks. You hate that your stomach flips at the idea of it. You hate that you don’t immediately shut it down.

He watches your expression carefully, like he’s waiting for you to stop him, like he won’t actually do it unless you give him some kind of sign. Which is so much worse, because it means he’s giving you the chance to say no, to walk away, to end this before it can spiral any further.

But you don’t.

And that—more than the kiss itself, more than Emi’s squealing, more than the public spectacle you just made—is what finally sends you into full-blown panic mode.

You do want him to kiss you again.

You stare at him, pulse thrumming, brain caught in a violent tug-of-war between denial and desire. And Hajime? Hajime is watching you with the patience of someone who knows he’s already won.

“Say it,” he murmurs, voice low, steady.

You scowl. “Say what?”

“That you want me to kiss you again.”

Your jaw clenches. He’s baiting you, letting you choose, waiting for you to meet him halfway. You exhale sharply, tilting your chin up. “You’re so full of yourself.”

His mouth twitches. “Not an answer.”

“Fine,” you snap. “I want you to kiss me again.”

Hajime grins. “That’s all I needed.”

And then, he does.

This time, it’s slower, deeper, not rushed by the heat of the moment. He takes his time, like he’s savoring it, like he’s memorizing the way you melt into him. And you? You let him. Because, goddamn it, you were never winning this battle.

When you finally pull away, breathless, he smirks down at you. “See? Not a mistake.”

You groan. “I hate you.”

He laughs, pressing another quick kiss to your forehead that feels far more intimate than a casual pair of friends-with-benefits should. You, scandalized, shove him away, but Hajime just grins, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, pressing your fingers to your forehead, like that will somehow stop the ridiculous heat crawling up your neck.

Hajime hums, smug. “And yet, you’re still standing here.”

You are still standing here. You could have left, could have walked back into that ballroom and pretended this entire thing never happened. But instead, you’re here. On this balcony. With him.

You shift, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “So… what now?”

Hajime leans back against the railing. “Dunno. Guess that depends on you.”

You narrow your eyes. “Why do I feel like you already have an answer?”

“Because I do,” he says plainly, in a way so nonchalant and effortless it could only be said like that by him. 

You exhale sharply, tilting your head up to the sky, like the stars might have some kind of solution for this. “You know this is gonna be a thing now, right?”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “A thing?”

“Yeah,” you say, making a vague gesture between the two of you. “A thing. Emi’s gonna lose her mind. She’s probably already telling the senior partners that her matchmaking career is a success.”

Hajime laughs, the sound easy, effortless. “Yeah. She probably is.”

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face. “I am never going to live this down.”

“Probably not.”

You squint at him. “You could at least pretend to be sympathetic.”

Hajime shrugs, then reaches for your hand, tugging you forward so suddenly that you nearly stumble into him. His hands slide down to your waist, thumbs brushing over the fabric of your dress. “I could,” he murmurs, close, too close, “but we both know I wouldn’t mean it.”

You scowl. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” he says, smug, “you still kissed me. Twice, actually.”

You glare. “Stop counting.”

“No promises.”

You groan, pressing your forehead to his chest in sheer exasperation. “This is my villain origin story.”

Hajime just laughs, wrapping his arms fully around you, and you hate—hate—that it feels nice, that it feels right.

“Hajime,” you say, voice muffled against his suit jacket.

“Yeah?”

You lift your head just enough to meet his gaze. “If we’re doing this, you are legally required to make it up to me with at least two fancy dates. Minimum.”

Hajime smirks, like he was already planning on it. “Deal.”

“And no getting too smug about this, either,” you squint.

He tilts his head. “Define ‘too smug.’”

You groan, shoving at his chest. “God, I hate you.”

Hajime just catches your wrist and grins, pressing a slow, soft kiss to your knuckles. “Sure you do.”

You really don’t. And both of you know that very well, because he has his mother’s spell-blinding smile and you have always been a sucker for them both.

⨭ closing; churned this out over one 3 hour writing sesh bc i got this idea in my head and had to see it through. not proofread and very very hastily written, but i like her anyway. #comment #reblog #lemme know ur thoughts mwah xoxo

[sci-fi-pony]

No matter how many times I watch this episode, THIS. MOMENT. just gets me every time. Regardless of how I feel about Henry and his "parenting" skills, this is such a good moment between these two.

Because Shawn has just been through a horrifically traumatic day. In which, among other horrors, he found out that yet another psychopathic serial killer is obsessed with him, meaning everyone he loves is once again in danger. And he has to face his childhood stalker again for the first time since she tried to murder his mother in front of him. And almost lost two people who are very important to him, knowing he'll blame himself for whatever happens to them since they were only targeted to get to him. But, in typical Shawn fashion, he's going to play it all off as no big deal. In another minute, he'll be back to cracking jokes and snarking at Lassie and pretending that he isn't going to have nightmares for the foreseeable future because of this. He's just fine(TM). Like always.

But for this one moment — when everyone is busy elsewhere and he's still reeling from the relief of everyone being okay — the mask slips and he's absolutely not fine. Cue Henry, who's been struggling this whole time between his desire to protect Shawn, and the fact that he can't offer much actual comfort because their dynamic doesn't work that way (mostly through his own fault but anyway). But here's his son, sitting alone on the dock, soaking wet, shivering, and looking absolutely wrecked. Their guards go down and Henry pulls him into a fiercely protective hug. And Shawn, who so badly needs someone to reassure him that everything is going to be okay (even though it's not, since Yin is still out there and will definitely be back for more and they both know it), just melts into that hug. He clings to his dad's reassuring presence and Henry holds onto his son like he'll disappear if he lets go. And you can see how desperately they hold onto each other for just that one brief, heartbreaking moment.

I have some issues with this episode (even though it's overall a work of art and so so beautifully made) for reasons I won't get into, but this scene gets to me every time. This scene is beautiful. Also, extra kudos to Corbin and James for absolutely nailing the emotions, and without using any dialogue to do it.

[milla-frenchy]

3 sides of a man

3k3 | Javier Peña x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: you meet the biggest seducer of the DEA. There’s no way you will fall for him. Right?

Warnings: 18+ mdni. seducer!javi as we know him, soft!javi, somnophilia, oral (m), piv, creampie. No age specified.

a/n: this is written for @burntheedges 's roll-a-trope challenge. I got secret relationship with Javi 🧡 Thank you for the event Kate 👌❤️

Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing 💕 @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏 @morallyinept for your Javi's dialogue page 🌻

It was already daylight when you woke up, rays of the sun warming your bare back, the sheets a mess at the foot of the bed. You were facing him, the sun only reaching his hand, placed on your pillow. He was asleep, naked, and his tanned ass was a call to sin. His bent knee was pressed against your bare thigh. You loved when he slept in your bed, which would keep his scent for a few days. A mixture of cold tobacco, cologne, sex. Of him.

Javi.

He sighed in his sleep, rolling onto his back. Revealing his happy trail that seemed to trace a light line down to his bush, and his soft, sleeping cock. Soothed.

You bit your lip, trying to resist the temptation. Your gaze trailed up his body, to his biceps that bore the mark of a hickey you had given him during the night, while he was fucking you slowly, lying between your thighs, keeping you consensually trapped in his arms. Desire overflowed from your folds as you thought about it. Quickly, you raised your gaze to his beautiful face, his carefully groomed mustache, his cheek scarred with the crease his pillow had given him. His messy hair, both from the dance of your two bodies and from the night of sleep.

You were so fucked.

When you joined the ambassador's office, fresh from the US, you didn't expect to break some of your principles. The most important being having a secret relationship with the biggest player of the DEA, who regularly checked out every woman in the department, and used his charm to get around the administrative burden that drove him crazy.

Peña

The first time you saw him act that way, was actually the day you met him. You were sitting in the hallway of the DEA, waiting to be received by the ambassador. You saw this man, wearing clothes that seemed glued to him and a little dated. Dark hair, brown eyes, a cigarette between his lips, walking next to another agent- a blond one. When they passed one of the assistants, the dark-haired man turned around to check her ass, and you hadn't been able to stop yourself from exclaiming a high sigh. He looked at you and paused for a moment before catching up with his coworker.

The ambassador came out of her office at the moment they reached you, and introduced you. Their names were Steve Murphy and Javier Peña. Peña held your hand for half a second too long, and your frown made him smile slightly, until your hands separated. As if you had become a challenge he had to win.

There was no way he would think you would be receptive to his play, even if he was one of the most gorgeous men you ever met.

That man was surely a seducer, but you noticed soon he was a mystery. He loved to check women out, but mostly he seemed to love the power of seduction he naturally had over them. He didn't use flirtatious looks, he didn't have a special or warm attitude. And despite all that, he didn’t have to try hard, they fell for him. You couldn't help but roll your eyes each time you were seeing their eyes sparkle when he spoke to them, or the way they would wrap a lock of hair around their finger.

They did not see that his gaze on them was fake, almost cold. That he just used them to get rid of what was bothering him in his hunt for Escobar. They didn’t realize they were the asset of the moment, forgotten as soon as he got the information or paper he wanted. Replaced quickly by some next asset. You didn’t understand how they could fall for him so easily. 

Of course, he quickly realized you were really not receptive to his play. You didn’t giggle when he spoke to you, you didn’t lean forward when you had something to ask him. You talked to him neutrally at best, but mostly coldly, calling him “Peña”, always. He gave you a piercing look once or twice, seeing that his charm wasn't working with you. 

You even confronted him one day, when you turned towards him on the stairs, and he didn’t have time to look up from your ass fast enough. You started to climb the stairs again, letting out a “no need to look, Peña. You’ll never fuck me.” He raised his hand towards him, ready to answer you, when you cut him off: “and don’t offend me by saying that’s not what you want. You won't pin my name on your list of conquests.” After that, you caught his gaze on you sometimes, but in a different way. Like a burglar searching patiently for the combination to a safe. 

You kept hearing conversations of agents talking about him and how he used his informants to know more about the sicarios. Or even some conversations between him and Steve in the corridors of the DEA:

"Are you fucking her?"

"Sleep with a communist? That would be downright un-American." 

Peña barely hid the sarcasm in his voice.

Nevertheless, you quickly learned that the man you only took for a seducer happened to be one of the best agents of the DEA. Serious, invested, abrupt. Bossy. Never hesitating to speak his mind. He had a bad reputation among some of his male colleagues. He obviously didn’t care at all, and even seemed to enjoy it, but you hated it. Hated the injustice, hated the fact that he was criticized for doing his job better than them. He wasn’t your favorite person in the world, far from it, but his professionalism couldn’t be questioned in good faith.

Another thing his colleagues or superiors might have hated was his sassiness. Sometimes you didn't even know if you should be shocked or amused by his condescending insolence.

One day he saw your half amused, half embarrassed smile, even though you tried to hide it behind your hand. From the day you met, Javi was determined to make you look at him differently. Not even like the other women did. He wanted you to really see him. The real Javi that he never showed to anyone since he moved to Columbia. Step by step, the way you looked at him obsessed him. He didn't care about other people's opinions, except for yours. Partly because you resisted him and he wasn't used to it, but also because he could sometimes see parts of your real personality that you were hiding, just like him, and it was as if he knew instinctively he would like it. So the day he heard your suppressed laughter, he knew how to behave around you.

Javier

What you didn’t know was that the man he was going to show you would make his way into your mind. Offering you sensitivity, even softness sometimes, you didn’t expect. His smile for you was warm. At first, you thought he was playing with you, acting differently just to have you. And there was no way it would happen. You tried to change the way you were beginning to perceive him. But the sincerity he showed, so different from his initial attitude, was slowly winning you over.

It took him months, but you started to call him Javier, instead of Peña. And you realized one day that you liked the sound of his first name on your lips a little too much. 

You didn't roll your eyes anymore when he was talking to you, and he seemed to act slightly differently with the women at the office. After a year in the DEA, he was not only making you smile, but laugh too, and you admired the way he stood up to the ambassador. Or the way he walked down the halls in his leather jacket. Or the way he held his cigarettes.

Your brain tried to warn you that you were screwed, but your heart silenced it. An internal battle your brain was already losing.

He became almost a friend, with whom you spoke about your previous lives. He told you about Laredo, his father and the ranch. You knew that he kept certain aspects of his life secret, but patiently, you were hoping to learn more. You told him about your childhood, in Texas too, your studies, how you had joined the Ambassador's office.

And finally, he became a friend. A friend you suddenly kissed at home one day, before he pinned you against the wall of your dining room, letting out an impatient “I thought you didn’t want me to fuck you?” between two kisses, to which you responded with a breathless “shut up, Javi,” your fingers lost in his tousled hair. “Javi, uh?” he growled, pushing the head of his cock in your cunt.

He fucked you against the wall, and you made him promise never to tell anyone about it, demanding nothing else from him. You really thought it would be a one time thing. Except that the way his cock spread your folds and brushed your g spot was a little too perfect. And the way he talked to you through it, half spanish half english, was way too intoxicating to stop, now that you had tasted it.

And now his tight jeans seemed to scream “fuck me” at you every time you saw him at the DEA.

You saw a clear change in his attitude after the second time you fucked. Probably because he felt you tense up when Colleen showed him her new nail polish. You couldn’t help yourself, even though you quickly pulled yourself together. But not fast enough for him not to notice. He avoided Colleen, and didn’t try to tease you about it. Didn’t play. That night, you told him he could fuck whoever he wanted, just before impaling yourself on his thick cock, after you pushed him against the couch.

“Really? You wouldn't mind?” he smiled, before grabbing your hips and imposing the rhythm he wanted. Or rather, the rhythm he knew you wanted.

You didn’t mention it again, and Colleen never showed him her nails again. He didn’t give compliments in a seductive way anymore either, didn’t turn around to look at every woman he passed in the hallway.

You loved it a little too much, when after you barely opened the door to your apartment, he would slip through the crack and wrap his arm around your waist, holding you tight against him while his lips were already pressing against yours. Your hand resting on his shoulder covered by the leather of his jacket, helped you to keep your balance as he was spinning you around. A spin that made you lose your mind for a moment while your heart didn't know how to stop spinning at all.

It was more and more difficult for you to hear some of his coworkers calling him an asshole. You asked him why he only showed them that side of himself, while you knew how much he had to offer.

“Why would I show them anything else? We work together, they do their job, I do mine, that’s all,” he answered with a shrug. “I don’t care about them,” he added, looking you straight in the eye, which made you swallow loudly, hearing his way of expressing in half-words how special you had become to him.

And on top of his professional skills, he fucked you like a god, making you chant “Javi” in the darkness of your or his bedroom. He was way too hot, enjoying an after sex cigarette, lying on the couch in his jeans, looking at you with his messy hair, as if he already wanted to fuck you again.

Javi 

He respected your choice to keep your relationship a secret, but couldn’t help but let his hand rest on the small of your back for a little too long, when he followed you to the elevator. He was torturing you with his sad puppy eyes when you said ‘no’ to him, for whatever professional reason. Forcing you to frown when someone else was nearby, to make him stop. Then he would stop, smiling, and you would fall a little more for him.

It made Steve smile once or twice, clearly not fooled.

“Are you gonna see Vanessa after work, Javi?” he asked him once, in your presence. You didn’t know who Vanessa was, but the way your heart suddenly curled up on itself made you think that your brain was definitely right, months ago.

“No,” Javi answered, visibly annoyed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been there.”

Steve smirked before leaving the office.

“You’re ok?” asked Javi, eyebrows furrowed, concerned.

“Yeah,” you replied through gritted teeth, trying to catch your breath after holding it for what felt like far too many seconds. You left for a meeting, while he was rubbing his fingers anxiously.

The thing is, you loved a little too much how he kissed your lips, your nose, your neck. Feeling his moustache move down your shoulder, kissing your skin without stopping before reaching one of your nipples, sucking, nibbling, licking it. Everything about him was sensual and feline. Soft. He was made to love, kiss, fuck. And you realized that you couldn't do without him anymore. And that your heart couldn't bear to share him with someone else.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked you that night, at your place, just after you hung your jacket on the coat rack.

“Talk about what?” 

He tilted his head to the side, and added gently “come on baby, don’t play with me.” 

You tried to smile. Tried to shoo away the invisible hands that were gripping your heart, squeezing it like a lemon.

“Vanessa’s a hooker,” he said, and you stopped him, reminding him softly that he didn’t have to explain anything.

“I just want you to know, hermosa. I don’t want you to get wrong ideas.”

Hermosa. It was the first time he called you that, your little heart starting to beat again and pushing back the pressure that had been increasing on it until then.

“I used to go to that brothel. But I haven’t in a while. In fact… I’m seeing only you, baby.”

“I told you I wasn’t asking anything from you, Javi,” the smile on your lips wasn’t reaching your eyes that were about to burst into tears.

“I know. But there are things we say out loud. And  things our bodies say. I see the way you tense up sometimes. And I don’t want that. There’s no one else.”

Your gaze was downcast as he processed his confession. He gently grabbed your chin, between his thumb and index finger, lifting it towards you.

“Is that ok?”

You nodded, and he gave you the sweetest kiss ever, his soft moustache brushing your skin.

“You still want this to be a secret?” he asked, and you nodded again.

“Okay. It’s hot.” His warm smile was devastating and it was impossible for you not to fall for him. “And seeing you roll your eyes at me in the office… it’s really cute.” This time the smile reached your eyes, and the tears that had been threatening to fall until then dried up. He took you in his arms and kissed you, his hands resting on your cheeks as your arms were wrapped around his shoulders.

You were thinking about it, the morning after having this conversation, lying in your bed facing him asleep, while you could no longer count the number of times you fucked.

Or ignoring how fast your heart was beating for him.

Yeah, you were fucked.

And couldn’t resist the cock in front of you anymore. You wanted to feel it come to life in your mouth, thickening until your lips ached around it.

You settled right next to him, trying to move the mattress as little as possible so as not to wake him. The tips of your fingers lightly ran over his bush, strewn with little white pearls of cum, and your desire from the night that had flooded on him.

The tip of your tongue delicately brushed his cock. Both of your tastes instantly coating your throat. You licked his slit before taking his tip into your mouth.

“Hermosa?” he muttered in a sleepy voice, lifting his head to understand why he was feeling heat spreading from his crotch.

“Shhh, lemme suck your cock, Javi.”

“Damn,” he said, letting his head rest on the pillow, his fingers on his forehead. “You're gonna kill me.”

“I hope not,” you chuckled and took him back into your mouth, your lips focusing on his tip.

And you loved hearing his breathing quicken when you took him deep in your throat.

You loved how his fist tightened in your hair when you licked the thin skin of his balls.

You loved hearing him moan when you sucked his tip, or licked his shaft from his balls to his crown.

You could never have enough and you wouldn't have stopped until his hot cum filled your mouth, if he hadn't placed his hand tenderly on the back of your neck.

“Come here, baby. Wanna feel you against me.”

Your eyes locked with his for a little too long, while you were still kneeling between his thighs, your hand on his shaft, and your lips still rounded around his tip. A twitch of the corner of his lips warmed your heart. You released his cock, letting his precum flow into your throat one last time, and kissed him before laying down on the bed. He settled between your thighs, just like you loved the most. That way you could see him. Lock your eyes with his, while his cock would brush against your walls relentlessly, in the sweetest, perfect way. Like he was made for you. You loved to see that his stare wasn't fake or cold towards you. Day after day, your heart was melting a little more.

And you wanted to keep it a secret, you wanted Javi for you only, for now. You loved this little secret garden that made your story so special, only yours. You loved being the only one, seeing his warm smile and eyes.

His hand brushed your cheek as he asked “what's going on in your pretty head, baby?”

“Just you, Javi…,” you answered.

“Really? Good thoughts, or bad thoughts?”

“Oh, terrible,” you smiled, while your fingers were running through his dark hair.

“Of course. Gonna have to change that, then,” he said, nestling his wide tip at your entrance, the sensation alone making you moan.

“What about those thoughts, now?”

“A little better,” you breathed out, your playful gaze fixed on him.

“Mmmm….” He slid his forearms under your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. “And now?”

You whined and hid in his neck, as he was thrusting in, slower than ever.

“They're… good. Oh my god so fucking good, Javi.”

“I thought so,” he chuckled. “Fuck, baby…” he added, his shaft sinking slowly until your core fully welcomed it. Your eyes were rolling back in the back of your head with every brush against your g spot.

“Keep going, Javi, please,” you whimpered. “I want more, please. I need a little more.”

“I know, baby, I'm not going anywhere. You're always so wet, so tight, so fuckin’ perfect for me.”

He kept thrusting in slowly, like both of you needed it, until you came on his shaft, and he came in your cunt, deep, so deep. Moaning in your neck. Your breaths slowed down, and he kissed your neck and your chin.

You drove to the office in two separate cars, as usual. You went to a meeting as soon as you got there. When you got back to your office and opened your drawer to put a file in it, you found a note in Javi’s handwriting.

“Already miss you. Can’t wait to have you just for me tonight, and feel your skin against mine.”

Javi p masterlist

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[riza-hawks-eye]

The Royai moments the anime adaptations left out bc they are COWARDS

(I believe in fma manga supremacy)

Riza's Grandpa asks Roy to marry her.

So this one needs outside material to explain, but Arakawa confirmed in the 2nd Guidebook (released only in Japanese and French) that Grumman is Riza's maternal grandfather. Not necessarily a big Royai moment but, still it's interesting how Riza's only known living family ships it, and that Roy doesn't exactly say "no" to his request.

I am forever fascinated as to why any of this exists in the first place, what did you mean by this Arakawa? why have Grumman make this suggestion in the first place? 👀👀👀👀👀👀 What were you suggesting? 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Anyway, I wish we had an in-text confirmation of Riza's relation to Grumman and I wish this moment had come back to the story at some point. Even if it was just Riza glaring at Grumman being like "Grandpa why are you trying to marry me off?????"

2. Roy's "Get your hands off my wife!" moment.

He really said, "is he bothering you queen?" I wish we had more protective Roy and frankly, I don't understand how this scene didn't make it to Brotherhood? Riza was getting manhandled by a tin can and clearly not into it. The fact that a tin can serial killer developed a crush on her is concerning to begin with. It just wouldn't be in character for Roy to be cool with this. Roy is also a jealous boyfriend, what can I say?

3. The "I'm glad you're alive" moment.

For some dumb reason, Brotherhood changed this so when Riza apologises for worrying him, he just snaps "save it for the end of the mission!" Like, why Brotherhood? why would Roy ever snap at Riza like that? especially when Riza is generally the one who is laser-focused on the mission. Roy has enough faith in her, he's not going to see this brief apology as her being distracted or less competent. The manga dialogue is also meant to show how Maes's death is still a fresh wound for Roy, so of course he's on edge at the prospect of losing Riza too.

4. He literally asks her out

I feel like both anime adaptations really wanted Roy to be more of a womaniser than he actually is. But this scene lowkey confirms Roy has limited game and he only really wants Riza. It feels like dude jumped at the opportunity to ask Riza out the moment she technically stopped being his subordinate.

5. Roy's codename for Riza actually coming back

Seriously, I love how Arakawa took the time to establish "Elizabeth" as Riza's codename only to use it later to have Madame Christmas suggest that Roy regularly spends time with "Elizabeth" to the point where it's weird that he isn't with her now. And then, when Roy bemoans how "another man took Elizabeth" (an obvious reference to Riza being taken hostage by Bradley) one of Christmas's girls gets excited at the idea she might have a chance with Roy. The suggestion is that Roy isn't normally available on account of his seeing Elizabeth.

It's a strong hint to the idea that Riza and Roy might have *something* going on and are bypassing the fraternization laws through codes. At the very least it suggests that Roy isn't interested in anyone but "Elizabeth". Also look how bummed out he is that his wife is gone. Why did the anime rob us of so much pathetic whipped Roy? WHY?

6. Just a lot more touching in general

There's actually a lot of touching between these two in the manga. It's mostly during the big fights like the Promised Day or the battle with Lust and it really cements them as a true battle couple.

In the case of the Promised day they are literally fighting in each other's arms. Riza is leaning on Roy as she's on the verge of passing out from her wounds, and Roy is clinging onto her now that she has become his eyes. The way they hold each other shows how they are each other's crutch and how one always empowers the other. It also symbolises how inseparable these two are as moments ago Roy was at the Gate and before that Riza was on the brink of death, they could have lost in each other for good but they're still standing strong together in spite of everything.

The post-Lust fight is just a nice moment were Roy clings onto Riza out of sheer relief that she's okay and he hasn't lost another loved one. Even though he's on the verge of passing out from pain and blood loss, he still finds the strength to reach out to her.

Then there's the scene in the tunnels where he lowers her gun for her. The noticeable difference in the manga is that he does this after he takes off his ignition gloves.

The anime forgets to do this. It seems like a minor difference but it's kind of a big point of characterisation. Because we know that Riza has been hurt by flame alchemy, from the process of having the tattoo done to her by a trusted parental figure at a young age, to the trauma of seeing how much damage it did at ishval, to her very literally being burned by the flames so that it won't do anymore damage. Roy is the one who burned her, he's the one who used her secret to do unspeakable damage and suffering, why would he hurt her again by letting her go anywhere near flame alchemy?

My final thoughts: Manga Roy is altogether more dorky and in love with Riza than his anime counterparts and I miss his adorkable self.

I also feel like Arakawa was so good at subtly hinting at how in love these two are and how they basically *do* function like a couple even if they might not be together in the conventional het married with babies way.

[relicsongmel]

Iris, Miles, and their mutual "secret"

The Ace Attorney fandom is no stranger to discussions of homoerotic subtext in the game's script—pretty much everyone who's spent more than five seconds here will be able to tell you that. Screenshots of lines that imply romantic tension between same-gender characters are all over the place, to the point that many fans are drawn to the series purely by its reputation as "the gay lawyer game." Some scenes are more well-known than others, but one I find brought up fairly regularly is this conversation between Miles and Iris:

This is optional dialogue that can be triggered by presenting incorrect evidence on Iris' Psyche-Lock during the Investigation portion of Bridge to the Turnabout. The argument here is that the "secret" Iris is referring to is the same as her own: that being, a romantic interest in Phoenix Wright. Which is definitely hilarious when you consider that Iris has known Miles for less than a day and she's already reading him for filth (granted, she could have been clued in by the similarly infamous "indispensable friend" line, and she's also exceptionally good at reading people despite Miles thinking otherwise). As a Narumitsu shipper myself I am not immune to enjoying that interpretation; however, I feel like there's a lot of nuance in this scene that isn't often addressed by the fandom at large. Which is unfortunate because watering it down to just Iris calling out Miles for being the gayass he is (to be fair. she's not wrong) does a MASSIVE disservice to both of their characters, and I'll explain why.

My bone to pick with the usual analysis of this scene is mostly centered around the larger conversation to be had regarding the treatment of female characters in fandom spaces. All too often they tend to play second fiddle to the male characters, and a similar principle holds true for ships with their canonical male love interests: mostly ignored in favor of the the more popular M/M ship(s). At best these women are sidelined, at worse they are flattened into wingmen for the boys (as is frequently the case with many AA girls and Narumitsu, Iris included), and at the absolute worst they are demonized for their perceived "competition" with whatever gay ship is most popular and therefore the Only Valid One for the male characters involved (as exemplified by some very "passionate" fans that I generally try to avoid interacting with). Whenever this scene gets brought up, the focus is almost always exclusively on Miles and what the interaction says about his relationship with Phoenix; Iris is only relevant insofar as she's the one initiating Miles' Homosexual Moment™—you could replace her with almost any other character and there'd be a similar level of neglect for their role in the interaction. Only very rarely will you see attention given to what Iris' question about Miles' secret means when she is the one asking it, and what it can tell us about her relationship with Miles/what she thinks of him, and vice versa (absolutely wild how even Miles himself is often flanderized despite being the fandom's golden child). It's all too characteristic of the systemic misogyny that has plagued fandom since its inception, which is deeply frustrating to me as someone who adores Iris as much as I do (if that wasn't obvious by now). So that said, let's dive deeper into what I think the missing link is here: namely, the Iris-Miles dynamic as it pertains to their relation to Phoenix.

Iris and Miles is one of my favorite relationships to explore in the whole series—but as I've described above, unfortunately a lot of people get it wrong in my opinion. Discussion about the two is frequently centered around Narumitsu Love Drama—which is a conversation worth having, don't get me wrong—but the elements at play there aren't always represented the way I envision them, which again, is frustrating. Take the idea of potential jealousy, for instance: it's pretty standard love triangle fare that can be (and often is) quickly turned into demonization when it's used in a shipping context, character assassination be damned (re: Narumitsu fanfic authors that project their personal dislike of Feenris onto Miles via his jealousy of Iris and/or how they tend to portray Iris unfavorably). However, it's not inherently a bad thing to explore: personally, I do believe that there is mutual jealousy between the two of them. Miles might not have the full context of Iris' history when this conversation takes place, but he's emotionally intelligent enough to pick up on what Iris means to Phoenix, and vice versa. And him being a jealous hoe about it isn't out of the question when you consider that he's a bit of a loner by nature and doesn't have many close friends or outlets for socialization outside of his job. The crucial element that's sometimes missed, though, is that Miles not only lacks the self-awareness to realize he's a jealous hoe...he's also a self-sabotaging jealous hoe.

And the same can be said for Iris, who is similarly introverted and doesn't often leave her home at Hazakura Temple.

The whole reason Miles is peering into Iris' heart in the first place can be found in this exchange, after he breaks her Psyche-Lock:

Miles uses the Magatama in order to gain the answers he needs to bring the truth to light and get Iris acquitted, and he does so for the express purpose of reuniting her with Phoenix so they can find closure—in fact, he reiterates this to her multiple times. He obviously recognizes how Phoenix is suffering from what happened between them (I'd argue he sympathizes with Iris' plight as well) and has resolved to do what he can to help him heal, but there's no reason for him to be so insistent that she rectify things with Phoenix when it does nothing but harm his own chances with him. Unless, of course...that's the whole point.

To convince Iris to reveal her secret so he doesn't have to face his own, because he thinks himself undeserving.

And Iris, noticing this because she empathizes with that feeling of unworthiness, calls him out on it in an almost uncharacteristically forward manner when she asks him what he's hiding.

Takes one to know one, indeed.

Iris highly respects Miles for taking on her defense despite the risk to his job as a prosecutor. She's willing to trust him after hearing he's a friend of Phoenix, hearing him out and letting him reason with her. She still keeps her cards close to her chest in some regards, but she's more honest with him than she's been with anyone else in her life apart from her sister. She sees his commitment to the truth and how it starkly contrasts with how she's lived her life to this point, and thinks that this is the type of partner Phoenix deserves—not someone like her, who only knows how to survive using lies and deception. She sees so much strength in him but still recognizes the insecurity lurking beneath his tenacity, which is why when he falters in his logic, she takes a leap of faith and gives him one last chance to examine his reasons for pushing the burden of his unspoken affections onto her, as if to say: "Look in the mirror. Is this really for me? Or is it for you? Do you really seek the truth for its own sake, or do you merely hope to find one truth so you might run from another?"

Her question to Miles is a gamble—a coin flip of self-sacrifice. If she loses and he presses on, she has to face the secret within her heart she's been suppressing for five years. But if she wins and he gives in to the truth in his, she has to live the rest of her life watching it unfold and knowing she threw away her chance to finally stop living in fear of her own love.

Either way, there's no escaping heartache for her anymore.

Miles and Iris both want what's best for Phoenix and prioritize their vision of his feelings over their own. However, they are also both deeply emotionally repressed people who find difficulty in being direct with their feelings, and are predisposed to self-sabotage due to childhood trauma. These tendencies may manifest in different ways for both of them, but the fact remains that such people would likely not compete for a person's affection in the traditional sense, which is exactly what we see with how Iris and Miles deflect their feelings for Phoenix. These selfless, lovestruck idiots toss that man around like a game of hot-potato because their mutual self-hatred for the ways they've harmed him has rendered them terrified of the reality of what he means to them, and desperate to find a way out of admitting to it. It's the most compelling explanation I can think of for why the usually unassuming Iris makes such a bold judgment about what Miles might be keeping locked away, and why Miles goes to such lengths to make sure she talks to Phoenix and tells him the truth—his agreement to defend her was conditional on that exact promise. They go through this whole song-and-dance of playing wingman to ignore their own feelings while still trying to bring Phoenix the happiness they think he deserves—and then they wonder why seeing Phoenix give the other one attention burns them up inside.

Because they’re dumb. And I love them.

TL;DR the Iris Psyche-Lock scene in BttT is so much more than just "haha Miles gay" and I wish people talked about it more. Also Iris and Miles are way more similar than they appear at first glance and if I think about it for too long it makes me physically ill thank you for coming to my TED talk

[dogsohavoc]

Awakened Pure Vanilla is a little bigger than you remembered~

Content warnings: AFAB bodied reader with no specific pronouns used, size difference, quite dubcon with reader mostly just being shocked over what's happening rather than explicitly nonconsenting, you are PVs spouse, technically occurs in public but it's only you two, couch defilement, I formally apologise for being shit at dialogue

Pure Vanilla Cookie was always a gentle soul, and it reflected wholeheartedly in his relationship with you. Always patient, always kind, especially when it came to the bedroom.

The two of you even had your first times together, where he'd shook underneath you as you sat down on him, sliding into you smoothly, like a lock clicking into place.

It felt right. He was the perfect, adorable size for you.

Then, when he left for Beast Yeast you missed him so terribly, so deeply.. and yet you couldn't bring yourself to touch yourself without his presence. You knew he loved to make you feel good, so something in the back of your mind told you he'd be disappointed if he wasn't there to witness your pleasure.

When he came back? He was different. Taller, his beauty like no other. A presence, a radiance that outshined all else. To stand beside him was an honor- a fever dream to know he was all yours.

But his awakening posed a problem you hadn't seen coming.

His dick was fucking massive. Every part of him was, really, but especially that log between his legs. Before, he was, well, modest. You loved him and you loved his body, and you were glad he previously could fit into you so easily with… some of the activities you put him up to.

You knew he'd never hurt you. He'd sooner crumble than soil a crumb on your body.

Yet it was hard to not feel intimidated when he first showed his face, sunnier than ever… you could barely keep a straight face because of the very pronounced bulge in his robes.

It should have been flattering– and don’t take that the wrong way, it definitely was– but the idea that he was so openly aroused in public by the mere sight of you set off alarm bells. 

Before, he'd been a little more shy in his affections, only letting himself become worked up in the privacy of your own chambers. ‘I'd prefer to not expose any of my subjects to that side of me.’ He'd told you one night, flustered as you curled his vanilla cream hair.

But now, he was absolutely shameless. Proudly displaying his need for you in public– even as the castle servants glanced, mortified by seeing their king in such a way. 

On the first night of his return, he'd followed you around like a lost puppy, desperate for a chance to decompress with your company. You still had one more request to polish off before you could retire for the night, and you found yourself in the castle's library reading over some old manuscripts that hadn't yet been modernised. 

He sat with you quietly, providing small inputs on the translation. Getting to share such a comfortable silence with you was what he’d been yearning for. Beast Yeast was hectic, and he’d had barely a moment to rest– the cracks still ran deep in regards to the Spire, too.

And well, you couldn't really blame him when the crux of his robes started rising the moment your thigh bumped his. It was innocent- you’d merely been reaching over for a change of ink, but it sent his heart leaping, body temperature quickly rising. 

You didn't notice his suffering at first, absorbed in reading over your work while your husband squirmed beside you– in fact, you didn’t until he gingerly took hold of your wrist. You looked over to him inquisitively, gasping as you witnessed him. Flushed just lightly, tilting his head so his hair cascaded down his shoulders like liquid gold. 

When he spoke, his voice was low, tentative, but sure. 

“Dear… I apologise for doing this but…”

He slowly guided your hand, feeling your stomach jolt as you realised just what the big problem was. 

“I need you. Please, may I have you?”

You’re speechless. It feels… superheated, like the scalding surface of an oven. His silky robes slid so smoothly over him, thin enough that you could feel the shape of his cock with distinction. It felt thick, heavy in your palm as you squeezed him, in shock over what you had your hand wrapped around. 

His hips tilted forward just barely, chasing the gentle constrict of your hand. Soft lips part as he sighs in content, head falling lax into his collarbone. Robes bundled up around him, inviting as they reminded you of disturbed sheets. 

Witches– they barely hid anything. You watched in awe as the bulge swelled, growing harder beneath your very fingertips… and it was big. Sure, he may have been on the smaller side before, but this had just gone overboard. Even though you were only feeling the top of it, your fingers would have no chance of meeting each other if you’d tried.

How did it feel so hot, so heavy? Was he not even wearing underwear? You’re practically jerking him off already with how thin these robes are.

You squeeze him just barely, trying to process just how much you were dealing with here, and found yourself suddenly melded to him. He hooked his arm around your hip, unashamedly taking a fistful of ass as your face is pressed into his generous chest. His hips bucked against your limp hand. 

“I'm sorry about this my dear,”

The situation was devolving way too quickly for your liking– he’d slipped off the top of his robes in a fervor, letting it pool around his waist in a bid to free his heated skin. You weren’t safe either, as he lifts you effortlessly and sets you face down on the couch. He wasn’t rough– but there was no room to squirm away from his roaming hands as he kept you stationary with one hand on your shoulderblades. 

His warm weight settles atop you, rolling his needy cock against the back of your thighs. Your pants and underwear are yanked mercilessly down your ass, he doesn’t even bother to remove them completely, simply leaving them caught between your thighs. It only made you feel more vulnerable.

You gasp as he grips your hips and gives one heavy grind, sliding the fat base directly against the seam of your lips. You're genuinely afraid he's just gonna try and shove it in– previously, you could take him without any prior prep, but now? Witches, no.

You hiss again as he gives another languid grind, your slick only just barely starting to coat him with how terribly big he was. 

“You're so… petite, now. Y/N”

Anybody would be little next to you dude– oh no.

The wide tip presses wholly against your hole, the light pressure he exerted not even beginning to spread you apart. There was no relent even as you wriggled nervously against his hold on your hips, even daring to coo at your nervous sounds.

He simply nudged himself against you, making a mess as his size smears your own slick around like a too-big paintbrush. 

“I missed you so much my love. Every night– I thought about you. I yearned for you. I saved myself for you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the confession. Did he really feel the same way–?

“And… I'm sorry if it's a little cruel of me, but I just can't wait anymore,”

And your heart subsequently drops as you feel the widest pressure you’ve ever felt down there grow, fat tip teasing your tiny hole open. It could barely even start to nudge past the tight ring of muscle, and you grit your teeth as some part of your makeup starts to shift. You’d never experienced something like this, like he threatened to tear you apart and shape you anew.

But, besides for that first opening feeling, and as he pants and whimpers with how much he needs to be inside you, he can't just fit himself past your tight entrance. 

There's a pause as he audibly pants, giving a tiny little moan that you knew so well– and unfortunately, it meant he was aroused out of his mind.

You feel cold wetness land on you down there- did he really just fucking spit on you?

Even though it was gross, it was the extra bit of lubrication that did the trick, as you feel the pinching stretching start with distinct horror. You can’t help but give a tiny sob as the tip of him pops into you all at once. The sound of it was embarrassingly loud, and your hips grew weak as you regretfully experienced what it’d be like to sodomize yourself with a soda can. 

How could your husband be so cruel when he's so much larger than you? You were reduced to breathy whimpers, begging him to be gentle repeatedly. He didn't even let you go completely limp, holding you up as he ever so slowly displaced your insides with his cock.

Your head hangs heavy as all you can feel is your husband and how cruelly he's shoving himself into you. Is this karma for how thoroughly you've tortured him in the past? 

Your head hangs heavy, unable to keep the strength up as though him shoving his cock into you had sapped it all away. All you can feel is him, your beloved husband, and the cruelty he’s putting your body through to satisfy his own needs. Is this karma for how thoroughly you've picked him apart in the past?

Him being so dominant was unheard of in your relationship– being gentle was simply a part of Pure Vanilla. It was ingrained into his dough, and you'd gleefully taken the role of dominating such a darling cookie. 

You suppose it was hypocritical to blame him when you’d subjected him to the worst of your own desires.

Sure, you’d been a little mean with it, but did the Witches really think it was an appropriate punishment to give your husband a strong libido and a literal fucking horse cock?

He gave tiny, mean little ruts into your body, fighting against the resistance just enough to not tear you, but still unrelentingly opening you up further and further. You’re horrified to see only a quarter of him has sunk into you. 

Witches– You’d really been calling upon them alot tonight. But it was warranted! You’d realised the two of you were still in the library. This was public!

He only smiled at you when you told him with a panicked expression, patting your head like it was just all something he’d planned.

The old Pure Vanilla would never do something like thisssSS-!

Oh-!

With a hiss, he sank several inches into you at once, your whole body locking up praying he wouldn't just shove the whole thing in. Until he bumped into a wall deep inside you, sending you reeling. Oh no way! 

Only half of him had fit, and he was shoved right up against your cervix, leaking pre directly into your womb. There's no way he could fit any more!

But he didn't acknowledge that. Leaning over you, he presses ghosts of kisses to the back of your neck. Uttering quiet praise and, most ominously promising you that ‘we can fit the rest next time,'.

It was completely still, only the flicker of candlelight convincing you time hadn't stopped as you tried to cope with being smothered from the inside and out. His hair fell over you like a curtain, blocking your view so that there was nothing in your world but him. 

Everything was hazy, his warmth seeping into your body soothing your tensed muscles. There was only so much you could relax, feeling him push against you from all angles.

But the moment's rest was long deserved– if he moved at all right now you think something would actually break. 

His skin feels so smooth as he nuzzles into your cheek, pressing tiny kisses to the edge of your lips.

“You feel so lovely… like I've truly come home.”

He claims your lips, using one hand to tilt your jaw up, then shakily breathes out.

“This is new for us isn't it? Normally you treat me so well. Every night in Beast Yeast, I'd imagine you touching me– riding me, so perfectly like you always do.”

His arm– so much more toned then it used to be– slides under your tummy, squeezing just barely into the plush… you could feel just how strong he'd become, even with him exerting barely any pressure.

“I feel close already just thinking about it. Do you think tomorrow night, you could do that for me?”

Witches. He wasn't lying. You felt him pulse inside you in exquisite detail, and shivered as a shock of heat dribbles into you. An omen that made you shiver just thinking how much he'd cum if he was leaking this much already.

Tomorrow night...?

You breathed out, before your voice locked up as he began to pull out.

Bracing yourself on his arm underneath you didn't stop it from feeling like he was pulling out your insides with him. Sticky fluid bubbled from where he stretched you open.

There was no way you could even begin to think about tomorrow when you're not sure you're going to survive tonight.

It was hot. So very hot– the copious amounts of slick that coated him as he pulled out. A lewd mix of his overwhelming pre and your body frantically trying to keep up with what it's being subject to.

You could feel in terrible detail the relief that settles into your pelvis when he pulls out until his tip kisses your hole, ready to shove back in to fill your stomach to bursting.

The poor library sofa… it'd have to be replaced with how badly it had been defaced.

He presses his lips to your temple before breaching you all over again, a slick sound ringing out. His moan vibrates against your skull, barely able to process the pleased sound as he purposely grinds against the deepest part of you.

There's barely any time to rest before he's pulling out again.

Everything about it reads gentle– how he kisses you, and holds your head up when it lolls weakly. But there was no room to be gentle with how big he was compared to you. 

The pace he set, ever so slow, felt brutal all the same. In fact– it felt even more torturous as he let you feel every single inch and every ridge of him scraping along your walls.

You reach back and steady a hand on his thigh, the other gripping the couch for your life, feeling how the solid muscle tenses. His neglected robe had pooled over his knees, brushing against the backs of your own as he moved.

“Ng-”

Feeling his thigh shove against your hand as he thrust makes you dig your nails in on reflex, earning you the roughest buck into you yet, a wet squelch accompanying. 

“Ah-! Do that again!”

You’ve made a big mistake.

His pace picks up, rocking your body helplessly while giving light hums of pleasure. He had absolutely no right sounding that pretty as he stuffed himself inside you again and again. The raw stretch worsened as your insides ached with the need to orgasm already– your abstinence had not been kind to you, and even the rough treatment was making your stomach feel heavy with the need. 

Everything started to buzz around you, witches you were gonna cum– each thrust sending you closer to the deep end as he began to whimper into your ear.

“So, Hn!- wet for me… so beautiful.”

Your walls could barely even begin to constrict around him, and the inability to move only worsened the hold cumming put on your body. But still, you shook underneath him like a leaf as he relished in your body, pressing kisses to your throat as he whined.

“Ah- Dearest! I need more- again, again… haa!”

The heat ontop of you disappears, Pure Vanillas cock slipping from your body and bumping wetly against your inner thigh. You're then yanked backwards, your arms collapsing under the pressure, cheek smushing into the couch helplessly.

He grips the tops of your thighs firmly and holds you airborne like nothing, even holding you one handed for a moment as he notches himself against your pussy and shoves deep unrelentingly stretching you once again.

“It'll be okay– I'll be done soon- just- more… more! more!”

He grew more and more desperate with each plea for more, bucking into you harshly in such a way that you knew you'd be insanely sore in the morning. You feel like nothing more than a toy as he holds onto you like a lifeline, using your body to pleasure himself. 

The wet slapping was so deafening, you barely heard him speak.

“Mnn! Gh- cumming soon- you'll take it, right d-dear?”

“Oh, I kn-know you will. I'll give you all of me.”

Fuck.

He's already starting to stutter into you, grinding himself harshly into the front of your tummy. You'd done something like this to milk him plenty of times before– but it was so much more overwhelming having it done to you, your sensitive G spot tortured relentlessly.

And you could feel how much he was leaking and pulsing, he was so close and he was gripping you so hard and-

“Mmnnh! Oh!”

His grip suddenly became vice-like, digging into the fat of your hips and fighting to fit as much of his cock as he could into you. Even as you gasp at the uncomfortable stretching sensation, painful sparks echoing through.

You're smothered again as he returns to leaning over you, his heated stomach pressing into your back. He was moaning way too loud in your ear.

With how taut you're stretched around him, you feel every pulse and the gooey feeling inside you grows. Each spurt inside your cervix makes your body involuntarily clench around him– but with how swollen he's gotten, you barely can.

It feels so… limiting. You can't move, can't clench around him, only let out a little squeal as your body locks up weakly in orgasm.

It barely even felt pleasurable, just enough to throw your mind for a loop as your belly is filled so thoroughly. With how much he's dumped into you, it's begun dribbling down the front of your pussy like syrup. You flinch from the overstimulation as the heat rushes past your clit as it drops in fat globs onto the couch.

He's panting on top of you, shaking as he milks out his orgasm with tiny little thrusts, and you jump weakly with each one. Even the little kisses he peppers to your cheek and lips you can barely respond to.

You're completely limp, even as he shifts you onto your back and lays on his side, leaning on one arm. He had no right to look so loving, after doing… all that. To you. And he still hadn't pulled out! He shifted inside you as he leaned down to kiss you– chaste first, then holding your head to deepen it.

One large hand splayed itself protectively on your sweaty, cum coated tummy. It was then you realised how much he bulged out of you, a slight round bump full of his cock.

He unashamedly felt it over, making you whimper as you're compressed from the outside.

“So perfect…”

He nuzzles his nose into yours.

“Look at that. I fit so well into you– just like I did before, hm?”

It's absolutely not like before!

Another unintentional clench around him pushes out a wave of cum– and makes his eyes crack open just barely to watch how it bubbles out. Seeing his love ooze out while you two were still connected so deeply.

You have to shove him away by the chest as his constant pecks grow more heated.

He looks unbothered, even as you complain about doing this in a library, and how the sofa would need to be replaced and how the hell did it get on the floor?! How do you even cum that much?!

There’s an appalling level of uncaring he never displayed before as he stood, tucking you neatly into the crook of his arm with his cock still sunk up to your womb. You can't help but whimper as it shifts against your hypersensitive insides, rapidly cooling semen still dribbling from you. 

He shrugged his robes on, pressing gentle kisses to your teary cheeks, although you swear it was just an excuse to lick the tears away… the care was appreciated none the less. But what you wanted most was to get out of that stuffy library. Whispering sweet nothings to you, he left that miserably defaced couch behind. 

Every step towards your quarters was pure torture. Your tummy felt overstuffed, his cock plugging up all the cum he’d stuffed inside you. Embarrassingly some did still drip out onto the marble floors. 

You had to pull your own underwear up for some shred of privacy, although with him still inside you couldn't fully cover yourself.  

You’re a little worried as to why he hadn’t pulled out yet– and you were craving being relieved from feeling like your pelvis was being pried apart– but you were thankful to not have to walk.

The whole walk you were praying nobody happened to be roaming the halls at night– Pure Vanilla's gait was leisurely, letting you fully feel each step jostle him inside before the next. He walked like he had nowhere to be, while your grip on his shoulder tightened with every corner he turned.

You were about ready to pass out once finally shouldered your bedroom door open and laid you out on the sheets. They were soft, made from the finest cream sheep's wool, having been raised by Pure Vanilla himself, of course. 

“My love?”

Oh- you hadn't even realised you were dozing off, so taken over by his heat and presence your brain was actively fighting you for some rest. The days without him hadn't been kind.

His vanilla scent was cloying, more comforting than any cream sheep cotton you could buy.

He ran the backs of his knuckles over your cheek, leaning down to kiss your nose. His full eyelashes tickled you, and you groaned just barely at being woken up.

“We need to get cleaned up… you can't sleep yet. I'll carry you for just a little longer.”

He pulled back just the slightest amount, your own muscles tensing as you feel all the cum plugged inside you start to rush out along with him-

And frantically have to tell him to stop before yet another surface is lost to his virility.

You're glad you picked up on that- although slightly less glad to feel it all squish back into you as he hilts himself again, not so subtly shivering as he teases himself with your pussy.

“Ah-”

His hair tickles you as his head drops, breath shaky. This time, he kisses you properly, too impatient for any decorum.

“You wouldn't mind if… I have you again?”

[screamlet]

911 what is your pride (week 3; family)

@911whatisyourpride

bucktommy; 2.7k tags: future fic; kid fic; dialogue heavy; see note below

notes: in the mess of my wip folder there's the beginning of a story where buck and tommy, after bobby's death, leave LA and start a new life in southern new jersey, going mostly no contact with the 118 until athena comes to them five years later. they're married with two kids in that story, and this is the story of how they got those kids. this got long, but i probably won't put it on the ao3 until the rest of the story is written (if it happens!) so. uh. here you go.

---

Buck wasn't being held hostage in his captain's office by a six-year-old girl, but he wasn't… not being held hostage by a six-year-old girl.

"Who's there?" Layla demands, pointing at the door.

"That's my captain," Buck says easily, meeting Captain Reynolds's eyes. He minutely shakes his head, so Cap holds up a big transparent Ziploc bag to the door's window. "Looks like he brought lunch for us. I can go get it, and you and Bailey stay right here."

"Okay but he can't come in," Layla says. Bailey, her two-year-old brother, sniffles and holds onto Buck's belt loop as he tries to get up. "Bailey, he's coming back, he's bringing lunch."

Buck gently pries Bailey's hand off his belt, holds it between his own for a second, then walks carefully to the door and opens it just wide enough for the bag to slip through.

"Tommy's here, so are the state adoption officials," Reynolds whispers. "You sure about this?"

"Buck!" Layla screams. "He can't come in!"

Buck nods, takes the bag and shuts the door securely behind him. "Alright, how do we feel about applesauce? Ooh, I haven't seen this before: blueberry applesauce? I don't get it. Huh. It's applesauce that tastes like blueberries?"

He sits on the floor again, Bailey between him and Layla. Bailey eagerly gets close to Buck again and looks into the bag, pulling things out and holding them out to Layla curiously. Layla doesn't like being on the outside, though, so she comes around and sits in front of them.

"Alright, so, while we eat," Buck says, popping open some veggies and hummus for Bailey. Layla examines the sandwiches inside and settles on tuna fish, which surprises him. "My husband's here. Tommy. I told you about Tommy."

"You can't leave," Layla says immediately.

"I didn't say I was gonna," Buck says. "But he'd like to meet you guys, if you want."

"Why?"

Buck didn't think this is how it would happen, but it's not like anything else in his life has gone normally before. Ever. Ever.

"Last year, we put ourselves in the state adoption registry," Buck says, keeping cool. "And maybe… maybe we could adopt both of you."

Layla stops chewing and stares at him. Bailey wants another carrot stick and another fistful of hummus, so Buck helps him with that.

"Both of us," Layla says. "Or no deal."

"We want both of you," Buck agrees. "I grew up with a big sister and I wouldn't be who I am without her. She's everything to me. Tommy doesn't have any brothers or sisters, but he wanted them as a kid, so we said that in our paperwork: we want to adopt siblings, if we could." Buck smiles at her. "So maybe this is a good deal for all four of us."

Layla takes another bite of her sandwich, watching him suspiciously. "Bailey likes you," she says finally. "He hasn't yelled since we got here."

"I like him, too," Buck says. "And I like you. Maybe you guys will like Tommy. I hope you do. I like him a lot. I love him."

"Why don't you already have kids?" Layla asks.

"Well, we didn't feel ready until now. Kinda feels like things are lining up for us, all of us."

Layla hmphs to herself. She looks at Bailey, who's thrilled with his hummus situation and sitting in Buck's lap. "Bailey, let's meet this other guy. Maybe he's not so bad, either."

"He's great," Buck says. "Best guy I know. Wouldn't have married him if he wasn't."

"Yeah, okay," Layla says.

"I'm gonna use my radio," Buck says, reaching for the mic clipped on his shirt. "Cap, this is Buck. Tommy can come in, just Tommy, over."

"Copy that, sending him in, over."

"You guys really talk like that? Why don't you just say okay?"

"Easier for emergencies," Buck says. "Okay sounds like too many things; copy that, roger, over, not a lot of words that sound like that. It's important when things around you are too loud or you can't say much."

Layla nods and then whips around when there's a knock at the door. Tommy has both his hands up and Layla flips back to Buck. "That's him?"

"Yup, that's Tommy," Buck says. "Can I let him in?"

"Okay, but if he tries to take us away—"

"He's just here to sit with us, get to know you guys," Buck replies. He tries to get Bailey out of his lap, but he fusses and clutches Buck tighter. "Okay, let's both—"

"Don't go anywhere," Layla says sharply. "Don't take him anywhere. Open the door and then come back."

Buck leans in close and meets her eyes. "I'm not leaving, okay? And neither are you, until you and Bailey want to. I promise."

She stares right back at him. "I don't believe you."

Buck's only met her twice, but he knows that face and how much she wants to believe him.

"Believe me a little, please." She doesn't agree, but doesn't argue either, so Buck stands up and balances Bailey on his hip. "Boy, you are a big guy," Buck says, bouncing him a little. He lets Tommy in, then shuts the door behind him again. "Come on in, we're just having lunch."

It must have been a classroom day for Tommy in his (relatively) new job training medevac pilots, so he's dressed in his best responsible nerd chic: a button down shirt with a V-neck sweater over it. Perfect for convincing the state adoption agency that they're responsible potential parents, even if one of them has been trapped in the captain's office for almost two hours. As they look at each other, though, the mature silver fox instructor look gives way to pure Tommy: what the fuck are you doing/are we doing this/alright I guess we're doing this/christ now we're here aren't we/guess we're rolling with it. His face takes a real journey as they cross the room to where Layla is still sitting, watching them suspiciously.

"Layla, Bailey, this is Tommy Kinard," Buck says. "Tommy, this is Layla Hoffman, age six, and Bailey Hoffman, age two."

Tommy nods, hands at his sides. "Nice to meet you. Can I sit?"

"Fine," Layla says. She doesn't make room for Tommy, so Tommy folds himself up the best he can next to her, across from Buck and Bailey. "Tommy, why do you want kids?"

"Right out the gate, huh?" To Tommy's credit, he doesn't blink. Buck could swoon if he wasn't playing it so, so cool.

Layla points at Buck. "He's really nice and hasn't lied to us yet, and Bailey likes him. What about you?"

"Well, I also don't lie to children," Tommy says. "And…" He looks across to Buck, eyebrows up by his hairline. "And it's not just me. We both want kids. We want a family."

"You like kids?"

"I do."

"Someone at the adoption center told me to stop being a little jerk or I'd never get adopted," Layla says. "Are you gonna get rid of us if I'm a little jerk?"

"Absolutely not, and I can't believe someone said that," Tommy says, glancing with horror at Buck, who's hearing this for the first time, too. "You're kids. You're going through stuff for the first time. Of course it's gonna be a lot. You're gonna feel how you feel."

Layla looks at Buck seriously. "Good answer."

Buck can't help preening a little. "Told you. He's a good guy."

"Yeah, maybe," Layla says. "Okay. You can hold Bailey."

Tommy hums to himself as he takes in Bailey, who's getting his face wiped clean of hummus while the conversation goes on around him. "Seems like he's busy."

Layla tugs at Bailey's hand and points at Tommy. Buck watches him turn curious, so he gets him to stand up near Tommy. He fusses a little to be away from Buck, but Tommy's solid and steadies him right away. He stands behind Tommy and drapes his arms on Tommy's shoulders, chin leaning against Tommy's head. He looks at Layla and Buck like, okay, this guy's fine.

"Tommy's got that effect on everyone," Buck says to Layla. "He's so cool."

Tommy gives Buck a look as he answers dryly, "I put my socks on one at a time, just like anyone else. And I make really good pancakes."

Layla's skeptical. "Better than IHOP? What makes them really good?"

"Love, patience, and more butter than I should admit to," Tommy says, glancing at Buck. "Sorry. That's my secret."

"Yeah, not that much of a secret," Buck replies, then assures Layla, "but they're really good."

She nods and then, to Buck's surprise, comes around and sits next to Buck, side-by-side. "So what happens now?"

"Well, I'd like to eat this sandwich, and maybe you and me can watch Tommy try to win Bailey over."

"He already did. Bailey screams right away if he doesn't like someone."

"Good to know," Tommy says, still in Bailey's clutches.

"But what happens to us? Are we getting in trouble?" Layla looks into Buck's face with her piercing eyes. "Are you really gonna try to adopt us or are you just saying that so we get out of here?"

"So, I talked to the state adoption people outside," Tommy says, motioning to the door. "We had a home visit before we submitted our paperwork so…" He glances at Buck, who nods. No time like the present. "So we can take you home, if you want to come with us. Both of you."

"You'd have to share a room for tonight, both of you, but we have a room for each of you," Buck says. "We can shop for stuff tomorrow. Pick out your own bed, sheets and blankets, whatever you need. Your stuff."

"And Bailey's," Layla says.

"And Bailey's," Tommy agrees.

"Are you gonna get fired?" Layla asks Buck, eyes glancing at the door. "Because I locked us in here?"

"Nah, Cap loves kids, he's got three," Buck replies. "No one got hurt, you didn't set any fires—"

"It's a firehouse, you can handle fires," Layla says.

"Yeah, but we didn't have to," Buck replies. "So what do you say? Do you want to try us out as your adopted dads?"

"I finally have a good excuse to put that tire swing in the yard," Tommy says.

Buck gasps. "I'm not a good excuse?"

"That's not what I meant."

Layla touches Buck's shoulder to get his attention. "You drive a hard bargain, but okay."

"Yeah? Okay?"

"Yeah," Layla says, standing up. "Let's see how good you guys are at this dad thing."

Buck's trying not to scream or cry as he stands up from the floor. One minute he was Buck, the next he was a dad. Isn't that how it always happens? "First thing's first: let's clean all this up and put it in the trash."

"Is this a chore?" She thinks of something. "Do we get an allowance?"

"We'll talk about it," Buck says. "Do you think Bailey can be paid off in celery sticks?"

"Can you be paid off in celery sticks?" Tommy asks Layla.

"Cash only," she says.

Buck helps Tommy stand, too, and gets Bailey situated on his hip. "You've got an incredible vocabulary," Tommy informs her.

"Thanks! I hate reading and I love TV."

"You haven't met our book collection," Buck says. "We'll find you something you like."

"Yeah, and no Seinfeld until you're 12," Tommy replies.

"I don't know what that is."

"Fantastic."

When they emerge from the office onto the main floor of the firehouse, there's a wave of applause from everyone gathered: Buck's usual crew and the staff from the state adoption agency.

"Remember what you said," Layla whispers as she grabs Buck's hand tightly, then Tommy's, too. "You said you're keeping us, both of us."

"We are," Buck says, his heart quietly breaking and mending itself, all at once. He looks behind at Tommy; exhaustion and lunch have suddenly hit Bailey, so he's on Tommy's hip and dozing on his shoulder like he belongs there.

"Congratulations," Captain Reynolds informs them. "Looks like negotiations went well?" He says to Layla, "Thank you for giving me my lieutenant back. And my office."

"So far so good," Buck says, Layla gripping his hand with all of her strength. "Okay if I take some time off, Cap?"

He nods at Buck, and at Tommy, too; they like each other a lot, and he looks just as happy for Tommy as he does for Buck. "Give us a call if you need anything, like another rescue."

"You got it," Buck says, then meets Tommy's eyes. "But I don't think we will."

"I don't think we will," Tommy agrees.

---

Buck doesn't think it'll happen again, but Bailey and Layla are asleep in the guest room by 9:30, completely conked out. Buck and Tommy leave the door ajar behind them with two nightlights gently glowing in the dark room, then head down the hall to their room.

"Okay, so what the hell did we do today?" Tommy whispers as he shuts the door most of the way closed. "I got to the office at 8 AM, no kids, and I got home at 7 PM, plus two kids. What."

"Life comes at you fast," Buck says, though he forgot the movie it's from. "Are—"

"Am I okay with it? Yeah, for the 500th time today: yes. Yes." He rests his hands on both sides of Buck's face and kisses him. "Yes, absolutely yes."

Buck kisses him, too, then pulls away laughing. "Oh, wow, she's—Layla's a handful."

"You're already so in love with the six-year-old who took you hostage in your own station."

"She reminds me of you," Buck says, joking and not. She does, though. Those sharp edges, that tough shell to crack, the way she finally sidled up to Buck and let him take care of her—that's a Tommy girl, through and through.

As Buck understood it and relayed to Tommy, with help from the state adoption officials: Layla and Bailey had been orphaned close to a year ago and had no other living relatives, but they had yet to find a long-term family. People were scared off by Layla, and Bailey was (according to Layla) too sensitive for the temporary locations where they had already been placed.

Today happened because they had already met Buck before on a scene last week, when there was a small fire at the adoption center where Layla and Bailey were staying. Captain Reynolds had invited all the kids to Engine Co. 19 for a special visit and safety presentation, where they ran into Buck again.

"And Bailey remembered you?" Tommy asks.

"I think it's the tattoo on my arm. He spotted it and waved me down, then Layla recognized me."

"And then she disappeared with her toddler brother, you found them in Reynolds's office, and she took you hostage in your own station. Got it. And now they're our kids."

"And now they're our kids," Buck agrees.

Tommy nods and takes Buck's hand. "Our usual hardware store doesn't open until nine tomorrow, so I'm gonna drive to the big box store when they open at seven so I can get as much babyproofing and kid stuff as I can find. I'll come right back and I can make breakfast, as promised."

"Hey." Buck tucks his finger under Tommy's chin and turns his face to him. "Thanks for following my lead. For—for this."

"Are you kidding? Bypass the whole waiting process and get two kids dropped right in our laps? It could only happen to you. I'm just lucky I'm here."

"I'm lucky you're here," Buck says, kissing him again.

"Alright, if you insist."

Buck laughs against his mouth and kisses Tommy again, lost in the kiss until his phone is in his hand and he can start making a list of supplies Tommy will be picking up before breakfast tomorrow. "Eyes down here, Kinard," Buck says, waving his phone, but Tommy has to sneak one more kiss before focusing on the first of their many, many checklists.

[casscainmainly]

The Evolution of Cassandra Cain's Dialogue

Since Batgirl #1 is out and thriving, I thought it'd be fun to dive into the history of Cass' dialogue throughout different writers/runs. This is not comprehensive - I'll miss some writers, but I'll be covering her generally most known runs in mainline continuity (so no DCeased, Shadow of the Batgirl, etc.). Not a linguist by any means, so linguists on here feel free to chime in! (I'll also give opinions on which interpretations I personally prefer at the end).

Without further ado, we'll start at the beginning:

Kelley Puckett - Batgirl (2000)

Pre-issue 4, Cass speaks minimally in one-word sentences and doesn't have internal narration. Post-issue 4 (when a metahuman changes Cass' brain), she develops an internal monologue and begins to speak longer sentences. I'm splitting Puckett's Cass dialogue into 3 stages: early, middle, and late.

Early (#4 - #12): Cass speaks short, fragmented sentences. Each word has an ellipses between them (panel 1 above, from #7).

Middle (#13 - #24): Cass continues to speak incomplete sentences (often missing a subject or pronouns), but without ellipses (panel 2, from #13).

Late (#25 onwards): Cass begins to speak complete, simple sentences, punctuated by a few ellipses (panel 3, from #33). She continues to speak grammatically (though slowly) throughout the final part of Puckett's run.

Dylan Horrocks - Batgirl (2000)

Horrocks writes very similarly to late-Puckett, with Cass speaking in full, simple sentences, punctuated by the occasional ellipses. Horrocks introduces two new elements to her dialogue:

Cass stutters, sometimes repeating a word or phrase at the beginning of a sentence (panel 1 above, from #39). This is mostly used in the earlier parts of Horrocks' run.

She quotes reality TV (panel 2, from #51).

Maybe because of the reality TV, Cass also speaks more colloquially here than in Puckett's run, using phrases like "come 'n' get it" (from #57).

Andersen Gabrych - Batgirl (2000)

Gabrych's run focuses heavily on Cass' dialogue. Panel 1 above, from #58, suggests her narration boxes are another form of dialogue - Cass is speaking into a recorder. Several features of Gabrych's Cass dialogue are:

Ellipses: Even more than his predecessors, Gabrych scatters ellipses throughout Cass' speech (panel 1).

Fillers: Cass extensively uses filler words such as 'uh', 'um', and 'like' (panel 1, panel 2 from #61).

Longer sentences: Cass is more talkative and speaks longer sentences (panel 1, which is basically more words per panel than Puckett and Horrocks combined).

Wordplay: Cass often ponders definitions and word structures (panel 1, 2).

Adam Beechen - Batgirl (2008)

After evil Cass (that dialogue is not worth discussing), Beechen gets another chance with Cass in this miniseries. More than any other writer, Beechen differentiates Cass' internal monologue from her dialogue - her narration boxes are much wordier than her speech.

Her dialogue is a more loquacious version of late-Puckett or Horrocks: full sentences interspersed with ellipses (panel 1, from #1). The ellipses drop off towards the end of the series.

Her narration boxes use a variety of sentence structures and vocabulary. They read more or less as fluent English (panel 2, from #4).

Scott Snyder - Gates of Gotham (2011)

Snyder's Cass somewhat resembles mid-Puckett, using short sentences without ellipses (panel 1, from #2). She speaks a fair amount, but is more taciturn here than in any previous run. This is partially due to her not having narration boxes.

A unique feature of Snyder's Cass is preferring formal to informal speech. Though she uses contractions (panel 1), she goes large stretches without them (panel 2, from #3). She also omits the subject of a sentence only once in 5 issues, whereas native speakers (like Dick) drop the subject all the time ('have you ever been to Paris?' vs. 'ever been to Paris?'; Snyder's Cass would always say the former instead of the latter).

Sidenote: Batman & Robin: Eternal (2015)

Quick note about B&R:E: Cass is reintroduced into canon after being erased by the New 52, which means she's back to having very limited language ability. The series is scripted by multiple people, so it's hard to analyse. Suffice it to say she speaks in monosyllabic words, at most a short, incomplete sentence, but is mostly silent.

James Tynion IV - Detective Comics (2016)

Because Cass' language ability has been reset, Tynion develops her speech along the lines of Batgirl (2000).

Early Tynion has Cass speaking single word sentences (panel 1, from #938). Very similar to pre-metahuman touch Cass in BG (2000).

During the League of Shadows arc, Cass begins to speak a few words at a time, often separated by an ellipsis (panel 2, from #956).

Afterwards, Cass' friendship with Basil Karlo blossoms, leading to this run's most distinctive language feature - Cass improves her speech via studying and quoting Shakespeare (panel 3, from #958). Her improvement is reflected in the rest of the run through speaking longer and more frequent sentences.

Bryan Hill - Batman & The Outsiders (2019)

Like other writers, Hill's Cass generally uses short, simple sentences. She frequently drops the subject or pronoun in a sentence (panel 1, from #1). Hill doesn't use ellipses to separate the sentences, opting for periods most of the time.

Cass sometimes omits other words from her sentences too, dropping articles like 'a' and 'the' (panel 2, from #4), prepositions like 'to', and verbs like 'is' (panel 3, from #9). This peters out in the second half of the run.

Becky Cloonan and Michael W. Conrad - Batgirls (2022)

Similar to mid-Puckett, Batgirls has Cass speak mostly in short, 1-2 word sentences (panel 1, from #2). Cloonan and Conrad occasionally use ellipses as well, though mostly for emphasis/natural hesitation rather than indicating a unique speech pattern (panel 2, from #7).

Cass also has a habit of repeating/echoing a phrase Stephanie says (panel 3, from #16). This might be more of a friendship thing than a speech thing, though.

Alyssa Wong - Spirit World (2023)

Wong's Cass uses short sentences sometimes interrupted by ellipses, like late-Puckett and Horrocks (panel 1, from #1). Generally, if the sentence is three words or less, there won't be an ellipsis (panel 2, from #5).

Kelly Thompson - Birds of Prey (2023)

Thompson's Cass draws on a lot of previous iterations, but is somewhat unique as a whole. Some elements of BoP Cass include:

She speaks in sentences of varying lengths, but rarely with more than one clause (panel 1, from #1). Thompson is more strict about not using commas with Cass than most other writers.

Cass is a little more talkative (panel 2, from #5). Her sentences are fairly lengthy compared to most other runs, and she doesn't always opt for the shortest way to say things ('where is it?' instead of 'do you know where it is?'). Thompson also doesn't use ellipses, which adds to the sentences feeling longer/more complete.

BoP is ongoing so Thompson may add more to her speech.

Sidenote: Ram V - Detective Comics (2023)

Putting this in a sidenote since there's not much to say, but Ram V takes after mid-Puckett, with Cass using shorter, incomplete sentences. Cass almost always omits the subject of a sentence; her dialogue is as short as possible while retaining clarity.

Thoughts

Because Cass' language disability is a core part of her character, but learning to speak is also a core part of her character, I prefer writers who emphasize her unique speech patterns without reducing her range of expression. My favourites are:

Gabrych - by far the person who put the most effort into his dialogue, Gabrych-Cass has such a vibrant, distinctive style of speaking. The narration boxes, Cass' wordplay, and the use of fillers and ellipses all combine for a speech style that highlights her disability without reducing her to it.

Puckett/Horrocks - combining because they are really very similar. Puckett and Horrocks both use ellipses to great effect, and is a great style to emulate for Cass in an earlier stage of life. Horrocks' use of reality TV is severely underutilised. Puckett, of course, is the gold standard for typical Cass dialogue - if Gabrych's style is a little too much, Puckett and Horrocks are the way to go.

Tynion - mostly because of the Shakespeare thing. It's such a beautiful and clever way of showing her progress, and the amount of symbolism you could do with Cass quoting Shakespeare is unmatched.

I don't super enjoy the more talkative Casses (Beechen, Thompson to an extent), though I kind of like Snyder's take because there's a sense of Cass being very careful with her speech there. If you're writing Cass for a fanfic or something, I would avoid Hill's Outsiders; the run is great, but Cass' ungrammatical speech is unusual and doesn't jibe with the rest of her depictions. Ram V and Wong are relatively good depictions to draw from though.

Of course these are my opinions! I may have gotten some things wrong/overgeneralised stuff, so take all this with a grain of salt. All you need to know is you should read Batgirl (2000) :).

[sugar-omi]

suggestion from *this anon <3 it spiraled off the suggestion bc im crazy... but this is so good.. had me worried my period started🥵

DAY SEVENTEEN — Cuckolding [ sam + others ]

tags : NSFW, bottom + gn reader, multiple choice dialogue, cuck sam, outdoor sex, oral sex (reader & character receiving), fingering, mean dom sebastian, switch abigail, creampie, degrading (towards sam), mention of face fucking

synposis : even though you’re sam’s partner, he loves seeing you have sex with other people, mostly sebastian and abigail. the way they treat you, fuck you... seeing how you cum around another mans dick and the way you eat abigail out like you're starved. and the way he's only allowed to watch, hardly allowed to cum... he's obsessed with it.

[ kinktober '24 masterlist | ao3 ]

cuckold!sam who looks forward to friday night with the gang. you get together, play a little pool, watch sam lose to sebastian terribly every single night, and let loose with a few cheap beers from gus.

it's fun, it's become a ritual between the four of you and it's one you'll continue for days to come...

it's also ritual for the four of you to make it back to your farm and let abigail and sebastian have their way with you while sam watches, stroking his raw cock so hard and fast as he feasts on the scene of abigail holding your legs while she eats out your sloppy pussy / ass, her tongue carving it's way through your insides as she strokes your clit / cock.

and sebastian is patting your cheek, telling you to wake up and focus, that his cock isn't going to suck itself, rubbing his tip against your lips and urging you to open up.

you take all of the pleasure they're giving you so willingly, without a single complaint or an inch of resistance. moans fall from your lips, sending vibrations up sebastian's cock and running through him like lightening.

meanwhile, cuckold!sam is confined to the chair facing your bed, spilling his nth load in his hand while he watches sebastian use your hole like a cocksleeve and abigail uses your mouth for her pleasure, grinding her drooling cunt against your tongue, hand in your hair and burying your nose into her bush, telling you how cute you look with those watery eyes and buried nose deep in her cunt.

and as always, the night ends with abigail and sebastian helping you sit in sam's lap, taking his spent cock into your sloppy insides and kissing him, sharing the taste of abigail's pussy juices with him, invading his lazy mouth with your tongue and bouncing on his cock with sebastian's help.

on some nights, like tonight.. sebastian will cum inside you, telling sam he needs to use his hips better. he has to fuck all~ of his cum of you, he can't do that if all sam can muster is pathetic jerks of his hips.

the two of you are a drunk, sex blown mess, and it's only what seems like seconds before sam is cumming inside of you..

sebastian helps you off sam's length, letting you lay against his chest. sam's cock gives weak, pathetic spurts of cum, hanging between his legs pitifully. sebastian tuts, slipping his fingers into your pussy / ass, making you whine. "look at how little you came.. if you can only fill y/n with this much.. doesn't that make them mine?"

sam whimpers at the thought, his cock throbbing as sebastian seals your parted with a kiss.

cuckold!sam who whenever he loses a game of 'journey of the prairie king', he has to watch abigail kiss you, taking your full attention with a slow, intense kiss, her hands roaming across your body and under your clothes as she coaxes you into a french kiss, her body gravitating towards your lap.

it almost makes sam cry. he wants to kiss you.. he wants you to sit in his lap and let him touch you, feeling up your body with his hands and grinding against each other...

cuckold!sam who ends up losing another round of 'journey of the prairie king' and has to watch abigail pull your clothes off, and fondles and traces her fingers over every inch of skin revealed.

he's terrible at this game, and with every loss, you lose more and more of your clothes until you're down to your underwear.

his heart is pounding, both from the adrenaline of the game but also the scene in his peripherals.

you're finally down to your underwear, and abigail slowly pulls that off of you until your drooling sex is exposed... your gorgeous pussy clenching around nothing / your cock hanging heavy, drooling pre..

abigail urges you to lay down on her bed, and now all sam can hear is your moans.. he's so hard, his cock straining against his jeans so painfully that he can't possibly focus.

abigail is behind him, eating you out / sucking you off so well that he has you trembling in her hands, and at her request, sam's name is falling from your lips so beautifully.. he feels like he could cream his boxers right now.

but he isn't allowed to look, and he isn't allowed to stop playing and touch himself either.

cuckold!sam finally gets a bit of relief when sebastian pulls his cock out of his jeans for him, his chest against sam's back, arms wrapped around him and his chin on his shoulder..

"focus on the game, sam." sebastian's lower voice purrs into sam's ear, sending a shiver up his spin and making same's face contort as he tries to focus.

sebastian carefully, so as not to spook sam, unbuttons his jeans... running his hand over sam's bulge to tease him before he pulls down his zipper, trying to open up sam's fly without making him move and disrupting the game.

the character dies anyway, and sam respawns, gritting his teeth as sebastian pulls his cock out, stroking him in beat to sam's firing.

"c'mon, rockstar.. you can do this." sebastian encourages, "don't you wanna win and fuck y/n?"

that's the whole point of this little game you're playing. for cuckold!sam to earn the privilage to fuck you. but unfortunately, he can't get past level three.. and so now he has to watch abigail fuck you with her strap, sebastian stroking his cock and every time sam is so~ close to orgasming... he pulls away.

"ah ah, i know when you're about to cum sam, you can't trick me." sebastian scolds, stopping all movement to dig his fingers into sam's hips to halt his bucking. sebastian bites sam's ear, tugging on his lobe with his teeth..

"you'll be allowed to cum when you can win another level. keep playing, pretty boy."

cuckold!sam who simply has a thing for getting his friends "sloppy seconds." he loves eating you out and fucking you when sebastian creampies you..

loves getting high with the gang and him and abigail watching sebastian face fuck you, bullying his cock down your throat and telling you to just open wide and watch your teeth so he can get off.

cuckold!sam who loves when abigail fucks you with her strap, telling sam that she can fuck you better and that he should just watch.

cuckold!sam who gets hard just from sebastian telling him that you and him are going to go to the other end of the tide pools and he knows that means you're going to have sex. he knows and yet he watches you two disappear into the darkness, behind some of the bushes and trees.

and his heart is pounding the entire time, his cock straining against his jeans.. and he feels like he could cum just seeing you to rejoin the group, sebastian adjusting his jeans and you're walking a little funny, slowly following behind sebastian...

cuckold!sam who pulls your pants down after the moonlight jelly festival is over and sees sebastian's cum staining your underwear and he fucking moans at the sight, flipping you around so you're pressed against your front door and diving into your cunt / ass, tasting everything sebastian had to offer.

cuckold!sam who cums into sebastian's fist and sebastian acts like his cum is filth. dirt in his hand. tells him his cum is only for accessory and that sam doesn't know how to fill you or use his dick properly.

that his pitifulness in the bedroom is why he loves watching other people fuck you, because he can't do it himself and he needs to see how sex is done properly.

cuckold!sam who can't even do your wedding night properly... he feels like something is missing.. he.. he needs to watch you have sex with someone else, this isn't enough for him anymore..

bonus:

cuckold!sam who sees how well you get along with Alex, watching you guys play volleyball on the ginger island beach and something clicks in his brain when he sees alex pick you up so easily and tries to throw you into the water..

asks you with an obvious erection if you like Alex, and if you think he'll agree to fucking you and letting sam watch…

the three of you sneaking off to the abandoned house on the west side of the beach and Alex holding you up as he pounds you ruthlessly. tears slipping down your eyes from the way Alex presses you against the rugged cabin with his body weight, his arms wrapped under your thighs and his cock bullying your g spot perfectly.

[guster-animations]

The Japanese Version of Deltarune Chapters 3 & 4

last year i made a post covering aspects of deltarune chapter 2’s japanese localization that i hadn’t seen others talk about. people seemed to like it! and i liked making it as well, so now that chapters 3 and 4 are out, i’ve looked at the japanese text for them to see if i could find anything interesting.

and… yep i did.

since i’m one of the first english fans to look at the new japanese text in this manner, there’s a lot that i skimmed over or just straight up didn’t read, as a decent amount of dialogue is jumbled or shoved under “scr_text”. i mainly focused on the lore-important segments, since there aren’t as many character voices or jokes with interesting translations as there were in chapter 2… with two exceptions.

tenna

tenna is generally pretty well localized. i didn’t translate a lot of his dialogue, but 8-4 has done a pretty outstanding job of making tenna sound like a japanese TV host. for example, the narration to his intro video is translated from this:

It's now time for our feature presentation FEACHER Coming straight from your house Coming straight from YOUR house! He's the One He's GROOVY and NEVER glooby! You can't get this from an EGG! The sensation of your screen The show that makes you scream Say it with him, folks!

to this:

大変オマタセいたしました！ (Thank you for waiting so long!) はぢまるヨ！ (Lettuce begin!) アナタの　おうちから　お届け！ (Delivered from your house!) アナタの！　おうちから！　お届け！(Delivered! From! Your! House!) ピカ“１”の (The number “one”) シケシケしてない　トレンディマン！ (trendy man who never goes out of style!) タマゴには　マネできない！ (He could never be imitated by an egg!) アンビリーバボーな (With an unbelievable,) キセキの　サケビを！ (miraculous scream!) さあ～　みなさん　ごいっしょに！ (Now… everyone, all together!)

they didn’t need to intentionally misspell the line that replaced “FEACHER” but they did and i love that.

a lot of lines like these were translated to be more in the style of japanese television, and that’s awesome. i really admire the effort, and the shift is palpable even to me, who isn’t fluent in japanese at all.

jackenstein

others have already been curious about how “YOUR TAKING TOO LONG” and its variations are translated— in fact, this youtube video that i found beat me to the punch with covering it. (edit: this one provides a comparison between languages, which is very nice)

jack uses a mixture of hiragana and katakana (no kanji), refers to himself in the third person, misspells things (mostly using ワ for the particle “wa” instead of は), and occasionally uses emoticons. all of these give a strange but fairly childish impression.

and here’s how his iconic phrases were translated:

YOUR TAKING TOO LONG -> ナガイ　シすぎ (nagai shisugi / you’re taking too long)

YOUR TOO BRIGHT -> マブシイ　すぎ (mabushii sugi / you’re too bright)

YOUR LONG -> ナガ　イ (nagai / long)

YOUR TAKING TOO LONG IS TAKING TOO LONG -> ナガイ　シすぎ　ニ　ナガイ　シすぎ (nagai shisugi ni nagai shisugi / you’re taking too long with “you’re taking too long”)

YOUR TAKING TOO TOO -> カワイ　すぎ (kawai sugi / you’re too cute)

YOUR TOO TOO -> すきすき (sukisuki / you look cute, I like you)

raise up your bat

i looked at raise up your bat’s lyrics to see if there was any extra lore behind them. there wasn’t, but… ralsei’s replacement lyrics are pretty funny in this version. here are the full lyrics

鮮血 流れる 悪魔の心 (Senketsu nagareru akuma no kokoro / The devil’s heart flows with fresh blood) -> 先月 出会った あのコと今日も (Sengetsu deatta ano ko to kyou mo / Today, that kid I met last month) バットを振りかざせ (Batto o furikazase / Raise up your bat) -> チャットをするからね (chatto o suru kara ne / will have a chat with me) 希望は　ついえた (Kibou wa tsuieta / Hope has died out) -> 昨日は　ついつい (Kinou wa tsuitsui / Yesterday we ended up) 明日は見えない (ashita wa mienai / and tomorrow’s not in sight) -> 朝まで電話 (asa made denwa / talking on the phone until morning) バットを振りかざせ (Batto o furikazase / Raise up your bat) -> やっぱり楽しいね (Yappari tanoshii ne / It sure is fun) 夜をブチのめせ (Yoru o buchi-nomese / Do it all through the night) -> 今日もウキウキね (Kyou mo ukiuki ne / I’m excited today too) 闇の中へ こぎ出そう (Yami no naka e kogidasou / Let’s row into the darkness) 心の箱船で (Kokoro no hakobune de / With the ark of the heart) 闇の中でも　そばにいる (Yami no naka de mo soba ni iru / I’m by your side even in the dark) その心に導かれ (Sono kokoro ni michibikare / Guided by that heart) 鮮血 流れる 悪魔の心 ( Senketsu nagareru akuma no kokoro / The devil’s heart flows with fresh blood) -> 先月なかよくなった友だち (Sengetsu nakayoku natta tomodachi / The friends I made last month) バットを振りかざせ (Batto o furikazase / Raise up your bat) -> パットと　ブリトニー (Patto to Buritonī / Pat and Britney) 希望は　ついえた 明日は見えない (Kibou wa tsuieta ashita wa mienai / Hope has died out and tomorrow’s not in sight) -> 気取った　ポーズで ダンスがしたい (Kitotta pōzu de dansu ga shitai / They want to do a silly dance) バットを振りかざせ (Batto o furikazase / Raise up your bat) -> ハットをかぶってね (Hatto o kabutte ne / Put on a hat) 夜をブチのめせ (Yoru o buchi-nomese / Do it all through the night) -> スーツを着こなして (Sūtsu o kikonashite / Wear a suit fashionably)

who are pat and britney? are they the secret key to all the mysteries of the story? who knows!

UNUSED

i didn’t find many changes in the text of the chapter 3 and 4 “unused” text (otherwise known as “the voice in the code”), but i noticed that their dialogue sounds a little less feminine/childish compared to in chapter 1. maybe. it does seem like a lot of time has passed. idk

edit: actually, after looking back at all the unused text, it seems like they’ve been always more gender-neutral than i previously assumed.

prophecy

a few changes to the prophecy lines stood out to me.

THE THIRD HERO. A PRINCE, ALONE IN DEEPEST DARK. (eng) The third hero / A lonely prince living in the depths of darkness (jp)

reference to “depths”. nothing of note besides that

THE FLOWER MAN, TRAPPED IN ASYLUM. (eng) The flower man is captive in a facility (jp)

this is the word used to replace “asylum” here. take it as you will:

and the one i found by far the most interesting…

LOVE WILL FIND THE GIRL. (eng) The girl will learn the true meaning of love. (jp)

huh????? what the fuck does that mean??

also, the word for “love” used in japanese is 愛, which refers to any kind of love. so no double meaning here, but that doesn’t rule out the possibility of an intended double meaning in english, as the japanese translation of undertale has often had to erase intended double meanings that were not translatable, like “determination”.

addendum: As you know,

i’m editing the post to add this in because i forgot that it’s important.

you know the carol line where she says YOU in bright red text and no one knows whether she’s talking to kris or the player? well, luckily, japanese usually omits the word “you” in place of a person’s actual name, so hopefully looking at the japanese version of the line should—

she just uses the word for “you”.

this just makes it more evident that it is meant to be unclear who she’s speaking to.

CONCLUSION

wow that’s it. that’s a lot less than i expected there to be, but again, the game is translated pretty faithfully and there aren’t as many jokes that had to be localized in these two chapters. if you notice anything or want me to translate specific text, don’t be afraid to ask! i’ll be happy to answer any questions and help people out.

[bonus-links]

MY TIME HAS COME please discuss in great detail the GrooZeLink dynamics in prologue part 5. I am so intrigued by the stark differences between this shot:

And this shot:

The scar on triforce. The hiding. Please tell me everything there is to know

this is 4 u groozelinkers

why did i do text bubbles this way. how did anyone read this comic. god bless.

this is essentially Loft Monologues His Feelings The Update. It was very important to me that the audience understands where Loft's head is at from the get-go. and like listen, sometimes u have to have a bestie debrief even if ur bestie is a dormant sword spirit who can't talk to u. if bonus links was a musical this would be Loft's I want song lol

jokes aside I think Loft comes here to talk to Fi a lot. it makes him feel both better and worse

LOFTS FI IMPRESSION i feel like he used to do this a lot and thought it was so funny and every time Fi would be like. objectively that is not what i sound like. also, peep the textbox pattern!

even though Loft has trouble acclimating to life on the surface, it was important to me to show that it's not all like. angst and doom and gloom. But that's kind of the problem right? things are good, and he feels like this anyway. also I did my best to include most of the young adult skyloft npcs, I feel like the older one have mostly stayed up on Skyloft for now. LAKE TRIP!!

this is a direct reference to this shot from the game. this line of dialogue is an important thing to keep in mind. tbh the entire reason this comic exists is bc i thought too hard about the implications of skyward sword— what if you found out your girlfriend was really your god, who had orchestrated your entire life? wouldn't that make everything feel a little strange, even if you love her more than anything? much to think about

I like the scar through the triforce mark as a kind of symbolic gesture, but there's not really any intended meaning behind the two pieces of the triforce is goes through. feel free to interpret it however u like tho lol

AND THIS SHOT my headcanon is that Loft doesn't actually help much with the early building in Faron. It's partially because he can't- he pushes his body to the limit during his quest, and then completely crashes when it's over, and it takes a loooong time to even start recovering. He spends most of the time sleeping.

But it's also partially because he doesn't actually want to move to the surface. He wants to stay on Skyloft. In my mind it's like. he fought really hard to return to a state of normalcy that doesn't exist anymore, and that's hard to come to terms with. This is Zelda and Groose's project, and while he'll go along with it, he's not that enthusiastic about it. It's a source of tension in their relationship. Combined with Zelda often acting as a mouthpiece for the gods, it starts to grate on Loft that this aspect of his future has also apparently been decided.

tldr groozelink love each other a lot but things are definitely not perfect, and especially not right now

this is actually something I intended to get a little bit more into in ch2, but the chapter kind of. wrote itself away from it. every time I tried to include a scene with it, it felt too much like I was forcing characters to have too many heart-to-hearts too early. we'll get there eventually

this is an important update in the grand scheme of things :-) mystery mouseketool etc etc