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[oh-dear-moon-give-me-a-kiss]

Oh great heavens

Edit I finally found the artist: eriimyon

[owwllly]

one more time

[my-cup-of-coffeee]

oh god i’m back in the building

[polariae]

I know its heavy..

Full spicey art on my patreon ♡

[keisminx]

it maybe september bu the time you notice this but if you ever plan on writing hajime padilla x reader i would be so delighted 🥹🙏🏻 i have never seen filipino dirty talk before please enlighten me BUWAN NG WIKA IS ALMOST OVER 💔

happy late buwan ng wika, annonie :p i made this for me and you and any filipino readers out there, i hope you like it because i feel like am gonna short-circuit writing the dirty talk TT nyehehe. tell me ur thoughts <33 let’s spread hajime padilla everywhere :p

cw. half-filipino!iwaizumi. philippines!? PHILIPPINES!!! raw. p in v. creampie. TAGALOG dirty talk and dialogues, no translation. didn’t proofread it anymore cause I CAN’T. i have to stop every few mins to breathe. LOL. 1.4k words i got so into it!! MDNI. 18+ ONLY.

iwaizumi rarely visited his homeland after reaching the age of 18 and studying abroad at california to reach for his chosen path. but as his parents grew older, and his mom missing her homeland—his parents ultimately decided to leave japan after iwaizumi left for california.

so instead of iwaizumi coming home straight to japan, he often finds himself booking a flight for the country he often vacationed at when he was a kid.

closeness grew since your family and his have been close knit, your mom and his mom were best friends even after she moved to japan and raised iwaizumi.

but iwaizumi didn’t expect you to be there, to see you. it has been two days since he was staying at this childhood home, sleeping in the bed that he totally outgrew. you were there, you said you came back just for a week since your grandparents are leaving to live abroad with your uncle and that you ended up checking on his parents too since you were close to them.

what’s more unexpected is that you and iwaizumi have been kissing each other in his childhood bedroom. you straddle iwaizumi's lap, hands gripping the back of his hair—pulling.

“tangina, y/n.” iwaizumi groaned as you rolled your hips towards him, feeling his dick strained from his shorts.

your lips have been swollen, shiny from your and iwaizumi’s saliva. you will be lying if you don’t say that you haven’t been wanting this. ever since you found out about your childhood friend’s instagram and saw how good he looks, you thought to yourself you need to lock in.

sadly, iwaizimu has been busy with his job and so are you. you occasionally reply on each other's instagram story and truth be told, you two were not so subtle in flirting.

“hajime..” you called his name, looking at his eyes. iwaizumi grinned, “you want something?” he asked.

you swallowed hard—maybe that’s your pride, your dignity. you grind against iwaizumi’s obvious hard on, his face crumpled from your bold move. “fuck me, please”

the heat on your lower stomach burns more from your words, you are desperate. you’ve been wanting to say it ever since he came back from california from his studies. ever since iwaizumi who was supposed to be that kid you always play with transformed into a man.

puppy love never dies.

iwaizumi had his hands settled on your ass, gripping it firmly. “sorry pero hindi kita maintindihan eh.”

your eyes widen, “hajime, stop!” you hit his chest, desperately trying to feel him underneath but his strong arms are keeping you in place. “don’t tell me, need ko pang tagalugin ha?”

you're already needy, you just wish that iwaizumi stop playing around and just fuck you right there at the bed too small for the man he became.

iwaizumi grinned at you. “gago ka ba? you literally dragged me here pero ako pa magbbeg?” you said, feeling frustrated now.

“edi bumaba na tayo, hinihintay na rin naman tayo ni mama at tita sigurado” he said, body leaning in the wall as you stay straddling him. “next year na lang, or sa new years”

you gnawed your bottom lip, clutching his shirt that has ridden up. you can see the outline of his v and a happy trail.

you have been dying to know what’s under there.

“kantutin mo ‘ko,” you meekly said, “..please”

iwaizumi’s face stays neutral, tilting it to the side. “‘di kita marinig, pakiulit?” he cupped one of his hands on his ear as if he’s mocking you.

“tangina naman, hajime!” you said louder, “tirahin mo na ako, please lang.”

iwaizumi smirked. “atta girl.”

the last thing you knew your back hit the mattress—iwaizumi ended up between your legs. he has been peeling his top off and yours, mouth latching your neck as you let out a moan.

his lips suck on your flesh, enough to be seen later once you come down to go back to the small get together with your family and his.

“tagal ko nang hinihintay ‘to” iwaizumi pulled away for a minute to admire your boobs that had been freed from your bra. his rough hands massaged your breast, nipples caught on his thumb and index finger—rolling your peaked, sensitive nipples.

your back arched from it, biting the back of your palm. his hands fumbled on your shorts pulling it down along with your panties in one move. you didn’t even notice that iwaizumi has already pulled out his cock.

and fuck, it is big.

you can’t help but stare at it. it stands hard and proud, the veins around made it look more delicious causing you to clench over nothing.

“bukas na lang magforeplay,” iwaizumi chuckled, lining himself up at your entrance. the tip toys with your folds, smearing his precum on it. “tatawagin na tayo mamaya so kailangan natin bilisan”

iwaizumi didn’t even let you react when be entered fully inside you causing you to let out a scream. “puta—! ano!? gusto mo bang marinig ng pamilya natin sa baba na nagpapatira ka sa kaibigan mo?”

you can’t help but just moan as he grabbed your cheeks to make you look at him, “look at me, look at me habang nasa loob mo ‘ko”

you could feel your eyes sting, you know well that iwaizumi used to be a kid with broken tagalog—so conyo sounding at the age of 7 yet now 20 years later, this man is talking dirty in your mother tongue and you never thought that you will find it so hot.

“ah—hajime, wait lang—!” you whimpered as he picked up his pace, hands gripping your thighs open. “ngh—please, ahh—fuck”

you can hear the bed squeak beneath you, the bed post hitting the concrete wall. it’s pretty loud and you’re just hoping that the kitchie nadal medley that has been started at the karaoke machine can drown out your moans and screams.

“putangina, ang sikip mo, baby” iwaizumi groaned, burying his face on your neck to lick and suck on it. “fffuuck, ansarap mo—tangina, masarap ba ah? masarap bang matira?”

you nodded frantically, feeling his hips snap at yours. your gummy walls can feel every veins of iwaizumi’s dick that you can’t even think straight at all.

“oh? bat ‘di ka sumasagot? tite ko na lang siguro nasa utak mo kaya ka nananahimik”

“s-shut up!”

iwaizumi let out a chuckle, pushing your legs up causing your lower back to raise, legs on his shoulder. you can feel him hit much deeper, harder. “feels so deep, hajime—ah! fuck, slow down please—!”

“nah,” iwaizumi said, rutting at you at a faster speed. “can’t slow down now, you feel too good”

you had your eyes shut, feeling your pussy clenched around his cock. you swear you are now lightheaded from the pleasure you had never felt before. “ah, ‘m close, hajime! f-fuck—”

your pussy spasms, body convulsing from the orgasm that has been getting washed out from you. your hands gripped the sheets trying to anchor yourself from the pleasure.

“yeah, that’s it—cum on my cock” iwaizumi said, continuing his pace to chase his release. “you’re on pills, baby?”

you nodded weakly, head falling on the side as iwaizumi used your body. his thrust has become sharper, wet sounds echoing his bedroom.

“fuck—tangina, baby. sobrang sarap mo, akin ka na lang.” iwaizumi growled, “puputok ko sa loob ah? you’ll take it all, right?”

he didn’t even wait for your answer, he just buried himself to hilt inside you. warm and thick cum shoots all the way inside your cunt, stuffing you full.

for a moment, it was silent in his room. the laughter from downstairs bleeds through the second floor, chatters muffled, and the karaoke machine spitting numbers.

iwaizumi already pulled out his cock from your filled pussy. “tangina..” he cussed out, watching the oozing cum from your pretty little tight hole.

he scanned your naked body as one of your arms draped over your eyes, catching your own breath. iwaizumi can’t believe that he just fucked his childhood friend who he has been flirting online when he’s away from his mother’s home country.

iwaizumi can’t believe that years of learning tagalog will just lead him to dirty talk in that language. he wonders if that’s too bad for your ears since you fluently speak it every single day, will it be tainted for you?

but iwaizumi doesn’t know that he just ruined dirty talk for you now. you refuse to acknowledge that the way iwaizumi talked to you in tagalog will be forever in your mind.

[frenchcoucou]

father son 🏖️

ac: noonrema

[winterrbluess]

Summertime shenanigans ✨✨

[supermegahijabi]

Al-Hashimi was practicing medicine in a war zone with a seizure disorder and you think she can’t handle an emergency department? Be fr.

[csmclv]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ༝ ゛Ⳋ᧙ . . . MISS YOU LIKE CRAZY | oikawa tooru ♥

୧ ‧₊˚ tooru is a man of many words — most of which are complaints. ˚₊‧୨

˚ starring, oikawa tooru x f!reader ˚ includes, post timeskip oikawa, nsfw content (mdni!), fluff!!!!!!, smut, established relationship, long distance relationship, clingy tooru, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, breeding kink, pet names (baby) ˚ wc, 4k ˚ lucy says, honestly idk what about this made me kind of emotional? i just feel like tooru is usually talked about as a player but he is so deeply lover boy coded to me!!!!!!!!!!!!! hence why i wrote this :") as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated!

a long distance relationship with timeskip!oikawa is filled with whining in different forms — mostly from tooru himself.

when he'd first left japan to pursue a career in argentina, he'd bemoaned practically everything: the erratic water pressure in the dorms, the firmness of the tofu that was available at the grocery, the intensity of the sun at noon that he swears is different from what you get back home. you'd spent nights listening to him grumble about how the tuna in the onigiri he'd made himself isn't quite as fishy and salty as he'd like it, and you'd known that he was just complaining to complain at points, because he used to stick his nose up at grilled fish that didn't 'smell smoky enough,' whatever that meant.

you'd always have to squint at the low-quality video on your shitty laptop screen just to make out the signs he'd point his equally shitty smartphone camera at, making sure to nod along emphatically whenever he'd sigh about how strange the latin alphabet was to him before segueing into a huffy spiel about how the only linguistic common ground between himself and the other athletes-in-training was broken english and the survival spanish he'd learned in the hope that he could order a pizza by himself at one point.

you tell yourself to give him a bit of time and grace, given that he's just fresh from the move and trying to get his ducks in a row. but even as the weeks pass, and tooru adjusts to his new life across the world, somehow, whenever he talks to you, a problem arises.

he texts you that practice goes on for so long he can't do anything but sleep after. he leaves you voice messages when you're knocked out back in japan, groaning about the time difference and how stupid it is that the world is round (which honestly had gotten a laugh out of you when you'd played the message back). when he wins a game, he grumbles about how he looked for you in the crowd because he'd forgotten you wouldn't be there, wearing his jersey number like you used to back when you both were in seijoh. when he moves into his new apartment, he tells you that he feels 'torn' because, while he doesn't have to share a bathroom with four other people anymore, his bed feels too wide and too empty at night for him to sleep. this is the excuse he uses to call you during your lunch break at work, insisting that he 'needs to watch you eat so that he's sure you're getting all the right nutrients.'

and while, over time, tooru learns to talk about argentina as his home, as a place he's come to enjoy living in, he's never stopped complaining about missing you.

that's why, when you finally visit him, six years after he'd left, he doesn't ever leave your side. tooru waits for you at the arrivals bay at ezeiza, holding a homemade sign featuring your name; it's got so much color on it that it's downright obnoxious, but it helps you spot him the moment you step out of customs clearance. you try not to make a scene, but he insists on the dramatics of picking you up and twirling you around with the biggest, goofiest smile in the world, ignoring the way your feet almost swing at an unsuspecting elderly couple nearby. when you try to remind him about how much you don't want to become a public hazard directly upon landing in a new country, he just cuts you off with a deep, eager kiss that has you seeing stars (and forgetting what you were chastising him about in the first place).

on the ride back to his place, he keeps one hand on the steering wheel, and the other hand in yours, fingers jumbled together and resting on your lap. stories and tidbits — some he'd told you about before, others completely new — spill out of him: the fact that some of the guys from club atlético had helped him make that terrible sign for you, the way he'd tripped over a dog at the beach four days ago because it was half-buried in the sand, how he'd bought you an overpriced bottle of coconut body wash because he'd seen an incessant commercial about it on television and had been stockholmed into thinking you desperately needed it.

in between words, he'd raise your tangled hands to his lips and brush a kiss against the back of yours.

you have to talk him out of carrying you out of the elevator because he keeps insisting it's the right way to introduce you to his apartment, but you do at least allow him to trap you in a backhug once you're both inside with your luggage, letting him waddle-walk you through a tour of the place. once you circle your way back to the living room, he mumbles into your hair — somewhat smugly — that he'd agreed to bring you to a team dinner tonight.

"everyone's been curious about my girl," he states, a twinge of arrogance padding his words. "so i have to show you off, obviously."

tooru leaves you to take the shower you so desperately need after such a long flight, though he hangs around in the bedroom, making space in his drawers for your things so you won't have to be living out of your suitcase for the next few weeks. he's still at it when you come out twenty minutes later, smelling of his shampoo and that expensive coconut body wash that admittedly made your skin feel extra soft. he turns to the sound of you padding out of the bathroom, halfway through a question about whether three whole drawers is enough for you for now, but he stops when he sees you standing in the middle of his bedroom, one hand clutching the short towel around your body.

and suddenly he just forgets about whatever it was he had been about to ask.

if the kiss at the airport had been deep and tender, this one is searing and fierce; he has your face cradled in his hands like he's worried you'll run away from him (as if you ever would, especially now that you're suddenly so weak in the knees). it's been years since you last kissed tooru properly, but you still remember, all too vividly, the last one he'd given you right before he'd entered immigration and security at haneda. this one is reminiscent of it in some way — eager and emotional, an embarrassing amount of tongue and teeth, like he's trying to tell you something with it. your brain's far too muddled to make heads or tails of it right now, and you're pretty sure you almost black out from breathlessness, because one second, you're standing at the foot of his bed, and the next, you're on it, the towel bunching up behind you as tooru cages you in with his arms.

"you smell amazing," he murmurs in between the kisses he leaves across your face; some of them, he uses to inhale the bright, warm coconut scent of your skin. "beach isn't too far from here. what do you say we take a dip?"

"we've got somewhere to be," you remind him with a laugh. "and i'd have to dig around for my swimsuit, anyway."

"who cares about the swimsuit?" his lips travel further down, latching onto your neck and nipping at your pulse point. "just wear anything. wear nothing, even. that'd be even better for me."

"what are you, some kind of animal?" you snort, though there's no heat in your words.

he only hums in response, finding a spot with a particularly strong scent — one that gives off a heady mix of the body wash and of you, that gentle vanilla that you've always carried with you.

for a little while, you let him have it — this moment in limbo where you're enveloped in him, and he's tasting you in soft kisses. but just when you think he's pulling back and regaining his senses, he tugs the towel open, letting out a low exhale as his eyes roam your body, completely bare to him.

"hey," you place a hand against his chest, and his gaze snaps up to you. "don't get carried away right now."

"i know, i know," he groans, and he says it like he's conceding, but his hands are telling a completely different story, smoothing down your sides and squeezing at your hips. "it's just that goddamn body wash, or whatever. it's laced with something."

"sure." your lips quirk upward, though the amusement quivers into something else when tooru's lips graze down between the valley of your breasts. "sex pollen body wash."

"you get me," he murmurs, and for a moment, he bares his teeth, letting the upper curve of them drag against your skin, catching briefly on your navel. "so i've got no choice, obviously."

"obviously," you agree, and even if you're supposed to be chastising him, you still let him maneuver you as he pleases. he pulls you towards the edge of the bed, and you leave the towel in favor of his softer, smoother sheets. you let him hook your legs over his broad shoulders, let him press featherlight kisses against the insides of your thighs. "five minutes, tooru."

"don't be cruel," he whines, nipping at your skin so suddenly that you jerk. "i haven't had you in years. i deserve at least ten."

"fine," you agree, partly because you've always been weak to his demands, but also largely because he's now directing his kisses to your folds, growing sloppier and more deliberate with each one.

"that's my girl."

he doesn't say anything more, opting instead to dive in with a seasoned kind of hunger. when kisses aren't enough anymore, his tongue joins in, fitting itself flat between your folds and dragging upwards to lap at your juices. it's ridiculously expert, the way he uses it to circle your clit, coaxing the nub into a slight swell to the tune of your breathy moans.

tooru eats you out like he's never had a better meal, like it's his sole purpose in life. his lips attach firmly to your clit, suckling at it with just the perfect amount of pressure that has your vision clouding. his hands are equally busy, squeezing at your plush thighs and digging into your hips so hard you're sure he's leaving prints.

your hands comb through his hair, messing up that effortlessly windswept do, and he moans low against your cunt when you tug, just a little, at his roots.

"when'd you get so good at eating pussy?" you ask breathlessly; he chuckles against your core.

"a guy can't watch porn to learn for his girlfriend's sake?"

"sounds like you actually have a lot of downtime, mister star setter."

"sure," he hums, letting his tongue skim down your slit and circle your entrance. "and i spend a lot of that downtime with my hand around my cock, thinking of you."

it's your turn to whine when he slips his tongue inside you, warm and wet and curving upward into your walls. it's been so long that even just that feels strangely big, but you can't bring yourself to mind it. tooru's always been naturally skilled, so it doesn't even take long for him to ease his tongue in with little resistance, helped along by just how ridiculously wet you are already. he moves it, slow and thorough, as if determined to taste every inch of your pussy with each stroke. you don't even realize it until later on, but at some point, your hips start grinding against his tongue, and he just lets you, simply happy enough to feel that friction against the wet muscle.

you almost complain when his tongue slips out, but he immediately replaces it with two fingers, a delicious stretch that has you keening at an embarrassing volume. as if to soothe you, his tongue flicks out against your clit again, teasing the bud with the tip of his tongue while his fingers plunge in, slick and making obscene sounds.

"hear that?" he whispers against your cunt, letting his teeth skim against your sensitive clit. you whimper, your hips jerking at the stab of pleasure that radiates. "so wet, so fucking needy for me. pussy's missed me too, huh? she knows no one else can make her feel half this good."

"tooru," you breathe out. "one more, please?"

"'course, baby. anything for you."

he complies instantly, slipping a third finger in and curling all his digits up against your walls. you cry out, that oddly pleasurable stretch dipping your mind into a haze.

"bet you've missed my fingers in you," he groans out, the strokes of his fingers getting rougher, more insistent as you tighten around them. "it's hard when i'm not with you, right? those tiny little hands of yours — i bet they can't reach as deep as i do."

his eyes lift to your face for confirmation, and you give it to him in a swift nod before you're tilting your head back, an unabashedly loud moan escaping you when his fingers press up against that soft, spongy spot you've never been able to reach on your own.

"there she is," he coos, sounding vaguely triumphant. "god, you sound so pretty. why've i never asked you to send me a video of you touching yourself, hmm? then again, i'd get jealous, seeing you get off without me. or try to, anyway."

"feels — feels so good," you mewl out; it isn't even in line with whatever conversation he's having with himself, but you feel compelled to tell him, if only to see him swell with pride.

"i know, baby; i know." he presses another soothing kiss to your clit, and you flutter around his fingers. "been so long since you've felt this good, right? that's why i'm going to make it up to you."

you groan as he slips his fingers out of you, your folds embarrassingly wet and sticky when he pats your pussy gently. he straightens up to shed his clothes, and his jogging pants catch on the curve of his already hard cock as he tugs them down.

tooru's always had an athletic build, with a toned, tight torso he'd been proud of since high school. but now he's filled out much more noticeably; it's even more evident now that you're looking at it without the barrier of a bad video call between the two of you. he's broader, with his muscles much more cut and defined. the looseness of a casual white tee obviously didn't do his body much justice, which is why you gawk when he pulls it off.

"you know i get even harder when you stare, right?" even with that, he's smirking down at you.

"i can't help it. you look..."

"dashing?" he supplies. "godly? ineffable?"

"hot," is what you blurt out. at least he knows you're honest.

"god, i love it when you objectify me," he chuckles, hands returning to your waist.

he drags you closer to the edge of the bed, palms skimming the sides of your thighs again. this time, he pushes them upward, folding you in half until your knees are squishing your tits, and he has another unobstructed view of your dripping cunt.

"between the two of us, though, i think i know who's hotter," he exhales, and his voice sounds strangely thrilled. "can't believe it's been six years since i've had you cum on my cock, but, hey, who's counting?"

"i definitely wasn't," you say, although you both know that's an obvious lie.

you like the sounds he makes when he strokes himself to full hardness, the guttural kind of groan that makes it sound like his sanity's barely holding on. yours isn't doing much better anyway, and that becomes obvious when your body jerks as you feel his tip graze your entrance.

"yeah, you're the picture of nonchalance," he snorts softly. "you won't mind if your poor, pussy-deprived boyfriend takes this opportunity to fuck you, will you?"

"if you must," you sigh, although you're both smiling too much to make the acting believable.

your body tenses naturally as he pushes in, and tooru has to press down on your already slightly burning thighs to keep you grounded and still. he takes his time easing himself into you, but you can tell he's already raring to go with the way his fingers press into your flesh. you breathe out a little when you feel him filling you up almost completely, but then squeak when you realize he's still pushing in.

"did you, uh..." you clear your throat, face growing a little flushed. "did you get... bigger?"

"god, i fucking hope so," he half-laughs out, but he's shaking his head, his hair falling into his eyes. "but you're just really tight, i think. can you take a little bit more for me?"

you let off a hazy mhm, and he soldiers on, spreading your legs slightly just to allow him a little more room. he lets out a sigh when he bottoms out, and you feel his forehead rest briefly on your calf.

"i swear, you have, like, a magic pussy," he mumbles out, and you want to smack him for saying something so unsexy. "there is no way it's normal for it to feel this fucking good."

"it'd feel even better if you moved," you say slyly, and he laughs.

"don't mind if i do."

you think he's trying to set a slow, easy pace, but after a few controlled thrusts, he gives up on that and starts pumping his hips a little more eagerly. you don't mind it; it's thorough and feels amazing, and with the angle he's thrusting in at, you can feel his tip brushing your spot deliciously with every stroke. tooru, vocal as he is, makes no move to hide how good he's feeling on his end, his groans filling the room and mixing with your softer, more delicate moans.

"i," he breathes out, a little strained. "am not going to last. you know that, right?"

"s'all good," you hum out, your words a little slurred. "neither am i."

that draws a particularly sharp thrust out of him, one you can feel in your gut, and you keen, gripping him tight with your gummy walls.

"last week, torres brought in his little girl," he suddenly says, and your brow furrows slightly at the random segue. "two months old. cute little thing. got me thinking..."

he spreads your legs a little more, allowing you access to his expression — a flushed kind of desperation that matches the fierce way he fucks into you.

"thinking what?" you breathe out, and he looks pleased that you asked.

"just how nice it'd be if that were me." he licks his lips; the way he bullies his cock into you is deeper now, sharper and more erratic. "just think about it — you and me, starting a life here, with a little girl of our own. or a baby boy. not picky, as long as it's you giving me one."

"are you saying all this because you want to cum in me?"

"you can read between the lines a little more," he chuckles breathlessly. "it's been hell without you. i want you to stay here with me. want you to see me after every practice, have dinner with me every night, then let me fuck my cum into you again and again until it finally takes. i'll take care of you — you and our kids. our kids — doesn't that sound nice?"

fuck, it does sound nice. completely crazy, considering you've been here all of one day and that you've hardly talked about a more serious future with him, but when you meet tooru's eyes, you can tell he's completely serious.

"well then," you say quietly, a small smile playing on your lips. "why don't you cum in me this time and see if it works?"

"ah, fuck," he groans out, hips stuttering. "no take backs. i'm not letting you go until i fuck a baby into you — understand?"

whatever reply you had for him gets drowned out by his lips on yours — a frenzied kiss that matches his increasingly sloppy thrusts. he drinks in your soft sobs as he releases into you, the warmth sealed in by his cock and pooling in your stomach. you can feel a little of it leak out when he shifts, pressing himself deeper in and kissing you a little more fiercely.

true to his word, tooru doesn't let you off with one round; by the time he's spent, rolling onto the empty side of the bed, you're sore and stuffed full, and the sun has already gone down.

you check your phone for the time, but you barely get to look at it before tooru drags you closer to him again, encasing you in a hug that has you pressed flush against his chest.

"we missed the dinner," you say after a soft pause filled with your mixed breathing.

"s'fine," he mumbles into your hair. "they were just going to tease me because you're out of my league."

"i doubt that," you say, pressing a smile into skin.

"totally true. they've been doing it since they saw that picture of you last christmas. not that they're wrong, by the way."

"you're crazy," you giggle, and he holds you a little tighter.

the sounds of the city slowly fade into quiet, and you pass that time against tooru; at some point, he twines your fingers together and starts playing with them.

"tooru," you suddenly say, softly enough that the reverie isn't shattered completely. "how's living here for you, really? is it still... i don't know. hard?"

"it's not the same as back home," he admits. "but it's fine. i like it here. the people are nice, and the volleyball's challenging. i'm liking it more and more each day. but..."

"but?" you press.

"i hate that you're not here with me. i know you are now, but it's already killing me that you'll have to go back, even if it's weeks from now. that's why," he props himself up on his elbow suddenly. "i want to show you everything that's good about this place. all the things you could do, the stuff you could try and even enjoy — we're going to do it all while you're here. that way..."

he brushes your hair away from your face with a solemn, serious expression, letting his hand trace the curve of your jaw and chin.

"that way, when i ask you next time to come live with me — really, honestly — you'll say yes."

you look at him for a long, slow moment, drinking in the determination in his gaze, the hard set of his jaw. reaching your hand up, you drag a finger up his brow, smoothening out the lines of worry there.

"leaving home would be really scary," you admit. "i'd have to look for a new job, and go through the whole process of finding a way to stay here long term. i'd have to leave my friends behind, and my family, and all the things that are familiar and comfortable to me."

the distress that threatens to overtake his gaze melts away when you lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"but if it's for you, i'd do it, anyway."

his mouth curves up into a smile — not mischievous, not smug. a sweet smile, one colored with relief.

"that means you're going to have to give up your cool bachelor pad and live with too-firm tofu for the rest of your life, though," you joke lightly, but not even that breaks the softness in his face. he leans in, pressing a deep, firm kiss to your forehead.

"no complaints there, i promise."

© csmclv on tumblr/ao3. please don't plagiarize or feed into ai!

[clock-out]

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[toruuholic]

papa!kuna’s daughter is a little confused . . . ໒ ݂𓈒𓏼 .﹏. 𓏼ིྀ ̥১

the house smelled like warm rice and miso when you walked through the front door, returning from a long day of work to your little family. ryomen was in the kitchen, massive frame somehow fitting behind the counter as he stirred a pot one-handed, his other arm cradling your two-year-old daughter on his hip like the toddler weighed nothing.

“hey, baby,” he rumbled the moment he saw you, voice low and warm in that way that still made your stomach flip even after years together. “missed you.”

your little girl’s head popped up at the sound, chubby cheeks flushed from playtime earlier. “baby!” she echoed brightly, reaching both arms out toward you with a delighted squeal. “babyyy!”

you blinked, pausing mid-step. “did she just—”

ryomen smirked, that sharp-toothed grin softening at the edges when he looked at his creation. “yeah. little brat’s been calling you that all morning.”

you set your purse down and crossed the room, scooping your toddler into your arms. she immediately buried her face in your neck, giggling. “baby,” she mumbled again, patting your cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“sweetheart, my name isn’t baby,” you said gently, pressing a kiss to her messy hair, pink like her father’s. “it’s—”

“baby,” ryomen cut in smoothly, abandoning the pot to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you both against his chest. his lips brushed your temple. “my baby. always have been.”

the toddler nodded solemnly against you, as if that settled it. “my baby,” she declared, then pointed at her father with a triumphant little fist. “papa’s baby!?”

he let out a low chuckle that vibrated through all three of you, the sound so fond it made your heart squeeze. “that’s right, little princess. papas baby.”

you sighed, half-laughing, half-melting as your daughter kept repeating the nickname like it was the best word she’d ever learned. every time you tried to correct her—“no, love, it’s mama”—she’d just beam wider and say “baby!” even louder, completely amused by your reactions, looking between you and sukuna like you were both in on the world’s greatest secret.

later, when the three of you were curled up on the oversized couch after dinner, little girl fast asleep on ryomen’s chest with one tiny hand fisted in your shirt. he tilted his head toward you, a fond smile tugging at his lips again.

“let her call you that for a while,” he murmured, voice quiet so he wouldn’t wake the little one. his fingers traced slow circles on your shoulder. “she’s not wrong. you were my baby before we actually had a baby. and it’s… it’s pretty cute to hear from her, kinda makes me wanna have another one.”

you rolled your eyes playfully before leaning into him, smiling softly against his skin. “ryo… she’s gonna keep thinking that’s my actual name, you know. you call me that more than my actual name.”

“good,” sukuna said, unrepentant, pressing another kiss to your hair. “she’ll probably let go of it soon enough anyway. like when we had yuji babysit her for a few hours and we came back to her calling me unc, remember? only lasted about a week, so just enjoy it for now.”

your toddler stirred just enough to babble in her sleep before going back to his soft snores, and ryomen grin turned impossibly softer, reduced to putty by the two people who held his whole world.

“yeah,” you whispered, closing your eyes as his big arm tightened around you both. “alright. i’ll be baby just a little longer.”

spreading the stayathome girldad kuna agenda imma need u to also image him sitting in a plastic chair that’s way too small for him with a tiny pink backpack on one shoulder thank u

this lowk is the first fully fluff fic i’ve posted here let’s all cheer yayayay

[seumyo]

THE THINGS KOZUME KENMA POSTED ON HIS INSTAGRAM STORY JUST FOR YOU

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[reignpage]

Synopsis: abandoned at the beach by your potentially-cheating husband, you're left up for grabs by two young men who don't seem to care that you're older, a mother, and married. in fact, that only seems to excite them more as they seduce you to abandon your morals.

Warnings: porn with the tiniest plot, reader cheats on her husband, SatoSugu action wink, threesome, public/trying not to get caught sex, milf!reader, hinted to be chubby!reader, age gap (reader is late 30s/early 40s and SatoSugu is in their 20s), reader's husband is mean (he's barely in this but I hope it's not triggering to anyone), double penetration, creampie, thighjob, fingering, unethical behaviour all around, mommy kink heavy, spit roasting, blowjob/deepthroating, face slapping, masochist!gojo, subby!gojo, femdom in parts, pússy inspection, hair pulling, cunnilingus, a little anal play, SatoSugu art by @/wacuoms on X, not proofread Word Count: 8.4k

“Did you really have to wear that?”

You scan your eyes down your own body, more specifically the bikini you’re wearing. A little reluctant to know, you ask, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

To your right, your husband gives you a disgusted scoff. “You’re dressed like a whore without the body for it. You’re a mother, for Christ’s sake. Must you embarrass yourself and me?”

Ah. 

So that’s why he regarded you so coldly, after you stepped out of the bathroom to get changed, back in the hotel. But if he thought you were dressed inappropriately for your age and size, why didn’t he say anything before? Why did he have to wait until you’re all situated on the beach, when you’ve already walked five minutes, when you’ve been laying here for almost an hour, and when people can hear him?

Self-conscious, you wrap your beach cover-up tighter around your body. You felt good before he opened his mouth. You were energised by the wonderful weather, the excitement of your children, and the thrill of wearing something revealing in a place where people won’t bat an eye. Now, you just feel like a beached whale.

“Mommy! Mommy! Look, I’m making a sand castle!” your youngest calls out.

You give him a shaky smile. “Very good, sweetheart.”

Around you, the beach hums with life.

The air is thick with salt and sunscreen, warm and golden under a sky so blue it almost hurts to look at. Palm trees lean lazily in the distance, leaves whispering whenever the breeze rolls in from the water. The ocean itself glitters, waves folding over one another in soft, rhythmic sighs as people wade in and out.

There are bodies everywhere.

Girls in tiny bikinis stretched out on towels, skin oiled and glowing, sunglasses perched perfectly on their noses as they giggle at something on a phone screen. Groups of boys toss a volleyball back and forth, all tanned shoulders and easy confidence, shouting over each other when someone misses. Couples lie tangled together, limbs draped carelessly, as if the heat has melted them into one another.

You feel…out of place.

Not because anyone’s looking. Not really. Most people are too absorbed in themselves. But it’s in the contrast. The flat stomachs, unwrinkled skin, the couples on honeymoons or anniversary holidays flaunting their undying love. 

In comparison, you’ve aged. Your body’s turned curvier from the children you’ve birthed, you’ve got pudge everywhere, and it’s why your husband hasn’t touched you in months. 

No. 

Years.

He’s probably cheating, you think. All the signs are there — keeping his phone on him at all times, working overtime very frequently, a feminine scent lingering on his clothes that doesn’t belong to you, never pestering you for sex that lasts three seconds, if you’re lucky. 

Oddly enough, you don’t really mind. Sex with him has never really felt very good for you and you’ve long stopped finding him very interesting. The love that was there, that resulted in your three beautiful children, has faded. You’ve become that couple that only stays together for the children. 

A tale as old as time.

What bothers you most is how he can’t at least pretend to stomach your presence; he always has to make some snide comments to you, as if he’s a spring chicken, as if he has abs and a head full of hair. 

The nerve.

When you glance over at him, you see he’s typing on his phone. Again. No doubt talking shit about your audacity to wear a two-piece swimsuit at your age to his mistress, whoever she is. He even has a tent growing in his swim shorts. Whatever she sent him must be good. 

Clearing his throat, he sits up from his loungechair. “I have to go back to the hotel room. Um, a work thing popped up. I’ll see you later, honey.”

He doesn’t even wait for your reply before he skedaddles. 

You sigh. 

“Mommy,” one of your children says just metres away from you, “Granddad and Grammy are gonna take us for a walk. Is that okay?”

Your parents, despite their age, are much more active than someone your age. They came with you on this holiday. Perhaps because they know how your relationship with your husband is. You’re grateful for their company and for their help. 

They smile at you, holding your children’s hands. Thank god for them because three children by yourself in this heat and in this crowd would be overwhelming as hell. 

With a nod, you reply, “Yes, of course, sweeties. You go easy on them, okay? Do as they say and don’t go running off on your own.”

The three of them cheer.

Taking one of the bags with their goggles, armbands, water bottles, and children-friendly sunscreens, they go off on a little adventure. At least your kids are happy. That’s everything. 

You’re left on your own on the lounge chair, partially shaded by the parasol. 

Maybe you’ll read for a bit, nap, listen to some beach music — anything’s possible now it’s just you. A little peace and quiet will be nice. Yeah, it’ll be nice. That’s all a housewife like you can do anyway. You certainly can’t go parasailing or rent a speedboat, can you?

The thought has you chuckling to yourself.

“What’s funny, gorgeous?”

You jolt.

On the lounge chair beside you, the one your husband was occupying, is no longer vacant.

One man, with long hair tied up in a bun, is sitting facing you. There’s another behind him, one with white hair and pure black sunglasses, lying under the umbrella. When had they gotten here? Where did they come from? And how long have they been there?

The white haired man tilts his head to look at you over the rim of his sunglasses. “I’m in the mood to laugh, so please, share with the class.”

Confused, you sit up. “Excuse me?”

Man-bun gives you a small smile. “Where are our manners?” He gestures to himself. “I’m Suguru.” He gestures behind him. “This is Satoru.”

You introduce yourself, though you know you shouldn’t.

They’re much younger than you are, you can tell. They have abs, which anyone can see through the sliver of the opening of their hoodie and tropical shirt; mischievous smiles that say they’re no strangers to trouble; and hungry eyes that are scanning your body up and down. 

What do they want? 

Satoru yawns, long limbs stretching. “We overheard your shitty husband running his mouth. He always like that? Y’know, spewing lies?”

God, you knew people could hear him berating you. It’s one thing behind closed doors, but it’s another to be perceived by outsiders. These two young men must have felt so bad for you they came over to make you feel better. How humiliating.

Cheeks heating up, you try to shoo them away. “I’m not sure what you want from me, but there’s nothing I can give you.”

Suguru tries to hide his smile between his hand. He muses, “Oh, I’m not sure about that — you look like you’re more than an expert in wrangling two unruly boys.”

There’s an undertone in his words that has you on edge. 

Are they flirting with you?

You struggle for words, unsure of what to say. On one hand, it’s inappropriate for someone your age to be entertaining men younger than you, especially when you’re married and a mother. On the other hand, the attention is nice. You haven’t had men expressing their interest in you in a while. And they’re very good looking boys. 

Drop dead gorgeous, actually.

Maybe you’ll let them stay, converse for a bit until they get bored and leave. It’s not like your husband will be coming back any time soon. And he’s doing much worse right now. A little harmless fun won’t be so bad, right?

“So you’re here with family?” Suguru, the more polite of the two, asks.

“Yeah,” you answer, sipping some water from your bottle, “just a little family holiday before the start of school. And you two?”

Satoru waves the question off with a lazy hand. “No, no, we live here. You can say this is our domain and you’re all trespassing, but we’re more than happy to have a beauty like you wandering around.”

The compliment has you flushing. “Oh, hush you.”

“No, we’re serious,” Suguru says, gesturing over your body. “Every part of you looks too good to eat.”

“We’ll certainly still do though,” his friend adds, laughing. 

Despite how awkward you feel talking to two people out of your age range, you find yourself laughing along too. Yeah, this is completely harmless, you think. They’re just boys finding it funny to mess around with the tourists. Boys their age want a romp, anything exciting to brag to their friends about. 

And you’re surrounded by strangers you’ll likely never see again. 

Let’s see how far this can go.

Playing along, you sultrily ask, “Oh, and you think you can handle a woman like me? I’d eat you for dinner.”

“Promise?” they respond in unison. 

They’re eager, that’s for sure. 

Practically drooling at the sight of you. They even lick their lips when you sit up straighter, tits bouncing with the movement. 

Maybe this isn’t a good idea…

Maybe they think you’re being serious, that you’ll actually let them have a taste. 

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you give them understanding smiles. “Look, boys, I appreciate your interest. Really. But I’m too old for you. There’s plenty of young girls around thou—”

“Blergh.” 

Satoru picks up the sunscreen from the little table between your two seats. He throws his sunglasses off and eyes the ingredients on the label. “When was the last time you reapplied?” he asks suddenly.

“I can’t remember,” you respond honestly, blinking at how they ignored your rejection.

Suguru shakes his head, tutting. “That’s not good enough. Very bad, actually. Very, very bad.”

Your skin’s just fine, you want to say, but any reassurance dies out on your tongue when they stand and circle you like wolves. From down here, they look so much taller. You can see their flawless skin more clearly now, can see the hard ridges of their tight body, and the softness. 

Whereas your husband is flabby, hairy, and rough everywhere. 

From your youth, you remember how wonderful it was to feel softness weighing you down, the energy only young men have, and their eagerness to please. It’s a life in the past come back to the present. Your thighs press together. 

They notice. 

The two exchange knowing looks, punctuated by victorious smiles. 

You just gave them the go-ahead they’ve been looking for. 

They both come to kneel beside you. You’re blocked from either side. Trapped. Landlocked. Prey to their hunt. 

“Wait a minute,” you say, panicked, when your covering is yanked off your body. You try to cover yourself with the towel from under you but they’re not giving you any room to move. “What’re you two doing!”

Suguru pinches the strings of your bikini bottoms, not pulling, just twirling the flimsy thing as though aware of how easily he could bare you to him. He casually says, “Oh, we’re just doing our duty and preventing skin cancer; the sun’s a killer, haven’t you heard, pretty?”

Meanwhile, Satoru squirts a fat dollop of sunscreen into his palm. He grins down at you. “Maybe that’s what he’s doing — I’m gonna feel you up.”

“I’d turn over very quickly if you don’t want him groping your tits…yet,” Suguru warns, amused. 

Right as those pale hands are about to make contact on your skin, you flop onto your belly like a fish. They land on your back with an, “Awww.”

You wince.

His hands are cold. They rove over your back with no hesitation. Satoru whistles. “You’re so soft! I wanna just gobble you up.”

This isn’t so bad, right? After all, you’ve always had trouble getting sunscreen on your back. Gulping nervously, you mutter, “Let’s keep this cute, you two. You’re only reapplying sunscreen. That’s it, alright? No, coping a feel.”

Behind you, someone snorts. 

“Sure,” they say in unison with no real conviction behind the syllable. 

Another pair of hands joins you. They’re cold too. It massages the oily thing on your back, taking over for the other pair which has ventured to your legs. They’re good at this — they’re pushing knots away, untightening the tension in your body, and applying just the right amount of texture to have you releasing low, satisfied moans. 

People must be looking at you weirdly; you were just with your family five minutes ago. Now you’re being touched up by men probably half your age. 

But, for all their teasing, they are respecting your boundary.

Until they aren’t.

It starts off slow at first, very light and almost not there. For a minute, you can actually convince yourself they’re just being helpful. Although, you’re vaguely conscious of hands coming under the bow of your bikini top with the excuse of needing to get even the areas that won’t see the sun. The other pair climb up to your thighs, delving into the inner parts, forcing your legs apart. 

You’re on edge, unable to let the tempting sleep take you. 

At every second, you’re aware of exactly where they’re touching, of who is. You can tell the difference: Satoru is more rushed, more excited. He wants to feel all of you all at once. Whereas, Suguru is more languid, more leisurely. He takes his time. He wants you to feel him. 

“Feel good?” one of them asks.

“Mmm.”

“Yeah, of course you’re feeling good. Who doesn’t like to be massaged?” the other says, arrogant. “You know, we’re good at internal massages too.”

Biting your lip, cheek smushed on the towel, you say, “Behave, Satoru.”

He groans, hands gripping your thighs tight. “That’s so fucking hot.”

“Careful,” Suguru drawls. “Your mommy kink is showing.”

“Mind your own business, Suguru.” 

That’s when they start growing bolder — the hands at your thighs creep up higher, gripping you in pulses, whilst the hands on your back slide down the sides, fingertips grazing the plumpness of your breasts which have spilt out. You tense, anticipating their next moves.

A thumb brushes the gusset of your bottoms. You jolt. 

In a flash, you push yourself up. 

They stare up at you, pupils blown out and eyes tracking your every move. Both of them look annoyed that you’d pulled away just when it was getting good. But you had to. They were about to do something very, very wrong in a very, very public setting. 

“I’m going to get in the water,” you tell them, inching away. Your feet sink in the sand. Out of the shade, the sun’s heat engulfs you. Now that you’re free from their broad chests, you notice how the beach isn’t all that crowded. There’s definitely people out and about — families, kids, old people and vendors — just not so many that you can’t breathe. 

You could have sworn there were more people minutes ago. Are you relieved that there are less witnesses to your inappropriate indulgement or frightened by the fact there are less witnesses to their hunger?

Suguru nods, rolling a shoulder back. “Yes, good idea. We’ll join you.”

“What?” you nearly shriek. Then, trying to compose yourself, you argue, “No, no. No need. Go and enjoy your day. Do whatever it is kids do these days.”

Satoru’s the first to stand. First to stroll over to you. He throws his jacket behind him. It lands right where you had been lying down. With a shit-eating grin, he spins you around and slings an arm over your shoulders. “Oh, don’t worry. We’re right where we wanna be.”

His friend slinks to your side, also shirtless.

You dig your heels in the sand, tugging yourself away. “On second thoughts, maybe I should go back to my hotel and see how my husband’s doing.”

They share a look.

Then they’re both dragging you to the water.

Maybe they’re strong and you can do nothing against their insistence. Maybe you don’t fight that hard. Whatever the case may be, you end up stepping inside the water regardless. 

The small waves lap at your ankles, and soon, with their guiding hands, at your shin, knees, then thighs, hips, waist, and in a blink, you’re mostly submerged. The sea really is all-consuming. 

Their chiselled shoulders and chests are all you can see as they circle you in the water like sharks. There are a few people in the water too, but they’re spread out. No one close enough to hear you thankfully.

“We’ve been eyeing you since you got here,” Suguru confesses, lips grazing the shell of your ear as he presses close behind you. He grips your waist, inching up a little.

You’re even closer to them than before — they’re tall, strong, carved by the heavens, truly blessed. So why are they here, with you? Why you when there are so many younger, prettier girls? 

Satoru’s hands find your hips under the water, he yanks himself to you. “Couldn’t stop looking at you in this sexy bikini. We’ve been hard since. Like, really, really hard.”

They sandwich you between them, between two men who are young enough to be your friends’ children. Or your own. With a shake of your head, you attempt to scold them: “Now, boys, this is very bad of you. I’ll overlook this just once so you can go on your way and your parents won’t have to know.”

One of them snickers. He looks over your head to talk to his friend. “Parents? She thinks we’re kids.”

Suguru leaves a scalding kiss on your bare shoulder. You gasp. He says, “We’re grown men, pretty. We’re all adults here. What are you so worried about?”

The three of you are swaying in the water. The salty scent of the sea is hitting your nose, dizzying. In the distance, you hear people’s laughter and their light conversation. The world is turning, though it feels like it’s paused for you. 

“Maybe I’m worried about the boners you’re grinding against me,” you retort, flustered. You’ve been trying to ignore it, trying to pretend you can’t feel two hot and heavy things poking your back and your stomach. But they make it impossible to when they’re grinding it against your body so shamelessly.

To make a point, Satoru moves your hips on his body. He’s rubbing you up on his boner, face buried in his chest with the water tickling your collarbone. He makes a pornographic moan, partly to tease you and partly because it’s helping his boner. 

In a panic, you scan the area for anyone who might have heard. 

No one’s looking. 

He says, “I wanna feel good. Don’t you wanna feel good? Wanna do something about the boners you’ve given us? Y’know, take responsibility and all that?”

At first, you wanted to dispute his second question; you did not give anyone anything, let that be clear. But his main question echoes in your head. 

You do want to feel good.

By god, do you.

You haven’t felt good in years. You’ve forgotten what it even means to feel good. Still, this is wrong. It’s all shades of wrong, and you can’t let yourself get swept up. So you weakly reply, “I’m a mother.”

“Mmm, that makes no difference to us,” Suguru says. His hands are right under your heavy breasts now, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the fat that can’t be contained by the flimsy material. He weighs them in his palms, bouncing them up and down. Above the water, the tops emerge, all wet and shiny. Satoru can’t tear his eyes away. His friend continues, "Though, between you and me, he might actually really like that fact.”

Satoru doesn’t deny that. He only ruts his cock harder against your stomach through the thin layer of his shorts. 

“I’m much older than you,” you say, reaching for anything that might dissuade them. 

The man in front of you snorts. “Duh. We can tell that much.”

You don’t know why that offends you. But it does. 

Before you can process what you’re doing, your palm makes contact with his cheek. Redness blossoms on the pale surface. Satoru’s face has whipped to the side. He blinks, processing what just happens, as you do. A tongue pokes through the injured cheek. He tests the sting, the corner of his lip twitching. 

Someone laughs behind you. “You’ve done it now, pretty girl.”

When bright blue eyes pierce you — an almost deranged smirk warping his face into something older, something more authoritative than you — you realise the truth behind Suguru’s remark. 

You really have done it now. 

“You’ve given me a booboo,” he says, putting on a baby voice to mock how you hide between the age difference. “You should make me feel better, right, mom-my?”

“Oh goodness…”

His hands leave your hips, fumbling for something in the water. Though the water’s clear, you can’t bring yourself to look down. So it comes as a surprise to you when a long, hot thing slots itself right between your thighs, with the help of Suguru who lifts you up with ease in the water. 

Satoru smushes his face right in between your tits which are drying under the sun now. He thrusts his cock back and forth, rubbing your clothed pussy. A fat cockhead nudges your clit on every return.

You’re panting, holding onto any part of them for purchase. “Wait,” you breathe out. “I’m married! I’m married!”

Too busy mouthing at the salt on your skin, Suguru instead has to reply, “We don’t care. We really. Fucking. Don’t.”

“Yeah,” his friend says, resurfacing from your tits to throw his head back with a groan. The water’s lapping more aggressively, disrupted by his thrusting and your squirming. “Your husband’s an ass who can’t appreciate when he has a great one right in front of him. If he won’t make you feel good, we will.”

“That’s right,” Suguru adds. He grips your chin and brings you to look at him. His lips touch your lips. He whispers against them, “You just have to let us.”

One of his arms is wrapped under your breasts, pushing them up for Satoru to rest his face on as he keeps rubbing his cock between your thighs. The other releases your chin to grope one tit. His blunt nail scratches a hard bud through the material. 

You moan. 

It’s too late to pretend you’re not soaked, that you’re not manically pleased with their attraction, with the feel of their hard bodies pinning you between them, that you don’t want this so bad. 

No one will know. 

No one has to.

It’ll be your dirty, little secret that you’ll pull whenever you’re at your very lowest. 

With that decision made, you surge to kiss Suguru, who wastes no time in deepening the kiss. His tongue pushes in, licking and tasting. He’s readily groping your tit under the top, pinching and flicking your nipples. Satoru squeezes the other, lifting it out of the water to suck at it, uncaring of the taste of sea water.

Too much is happening at once. 

It’s crazy.

Insane. 

And so fucking good. 

Suguru shoves Satoru back so he can slide his hand inside your bottom. He finds your clit with ease, spreading your puffy lips with two fingers and rubbing the bundle of nerves with the middle. All while, his lips haven’t left yours. He’s sucking all your oxygen out, threatening to drown you in his taste.

Somewhat aggrieved, Satoru complains, “Hey! Don’t monopolise her. You have to share, Suguru!”

You pull away a little to say, “Yes, Suguru. You have to share. Be my good boys, won’t you?”

Both of them groan. 

He lets Satoru’s fingers join him in playing with your pussy. Satoru hooks the bikini to the side. His fingers bump into his friend’s before it finds your entrance. 

“Ngh! Please! Harder. Deeper,” you mewl.

Satoru’s fingers are so long. They’re stretching your pussy out, inch by inch, till they’re buried at the hilt and curling up against that gummy spot inside you that has you seeing starfishes in your hazy vision. 

In tandem, they finger you — one massaging your g-spot and making good on his promise at being skilled at internal massages, and the other rubbing your clit so expertly you can’t do anything but throw your head back and wail wantonly. 

One of them, at this point you don’t care who, sucks and licks at the length of your neck.

Where did you get the courage to be so whorish, to boss them around like you’re their mother?

It hardly makes sense to you. 

Neither does the searching your hands do under the water. 

You find their cocks. One is already out, bobbing. The other you have to maneuver out of its confines in his swim trunks. They both whine your name out when they feel you wrap your hands around their length. 

Now, you’re no stranger to dicks. 

These two may be bolder and more shameless, but you know how to please a man. You know that you gotta squeeze their cocks just right, gotta rub your palm over their tips, thumb the slit and spread their pre-cum under their cockhead. You know how to toe the fine line between pain and pleasure, and which of them prefers to lean towards the other.

“Oh s-shit,” Satoru stutters.

The other sucks in a sharp breath.

Satoru’s nose pushes your bikini cover off one of your tits. He wastes no time sucking your nipple, but it’s not like how your husband used to suck on your breast. It’s more eager, more feral, as though he’s sure if he sucks hard enough milk will actually come out. 

“That’s it, baby,” you mutter, arching your chest out to feed him your breast. “Suck mommy’s titty. Such a good boy.”

In your grip, his cock throbs. So does the other. 

Seems like it’s not just Satoru who has a mommy kink.

Despite your relentless attacks on their cocks, their fingers don’t quit. They keep teasing your pussy just right. You ride their wrists. Your moans melt with theirs under the sun’s watchful gaze, and who knows how many other people’s. 

If only your husband can see how desired you are, can see your face scrunch up in pleasure he’s never given you, how easily men half his age can find your clit.

“Cum, pretty,” Suguru groans out. 

“Yeah,” Satoru says. “Wanna feel you -hah- tighten around my fingers. Wanna know how you’ll feel on my cock.”

Almost as though their voices carry a special power, your body listens.

The orgasm takes you by surprise, not from its suddenness — it’s been building for a while now — but from the sensation itself. It’s been years since your back’s arched, since your toes have curled, your lower belly has cramped, bolts of electricity ran through your veins, and your clit’s throbbed. You hardly recognise the maddening gloriousness. And yet, when it washes over you, it’s a very welcome return. 

“T-that’s it,” someone says. “Such a good girl.”

“Mm, bet your husband’s never touched you as good, has he? Bet he’s scared of pussies, which is ironic because he is one,” the other boy snickers.

If they expect you to come to your husband’s defence, then you only disappoint them. 

Meanwhile, your hands haven’t stopped. They only jerk them off faster and harder, till their snarky words die out and turn into whimpery moans. 

Soon, they cum at the same time.

Ropes of pearlescent cum jet out into the water, dissipating.

The three of you stumble onto a massive rock in the water you hadn’t even realised you’d been hiding behind. How long ago did you get pushed over here, far from the rest of the beach where it’s most crowded? Does it matter?

Here, seemingly a mile away from where you started, the water’s at thigh level. 

You’re so heated everywhere you can’t even tell the difference between the warm water and the warm air. It’s all the same to you now, especially when you’re distracted by the unceasing roving of their hands which touch you everywhere they can reach. 

“Where are your manners, boys? Didn’t anyone tell you to buy a girl dinner first?”

Satoru bites his smiling lip. 

Suguru chuckles. 

“You are our dinner.” The former smashes his face into yours, robbing you of breath. “You’re absolutely stunning. The literal woman of my dreams,” he says in between kisses, when you need to gulp for air. “Knew as soon as I saw you from afar that I wanted you to spank me, to ruin my life.”

That’s a real nice thought…

With an innate rhythm, they swap places — Suguru’s now in front of you, pressing gentle kisses on your cheeks and on your jawline, whilst Satoru’s groping your tits from behind. He rubs his already-growing-hard cock on your ass. 

Oh, the wonder of youth. 

Suguru rests his big hand on the back of your head. “Down, pretty. Put your ass out for me.” You allow him to push you down. You hold onto Satoru’s thigh, addicted to how you’re being bossed around by men younger than you, bent into place for their use. When satisfied, he says, “Such a well-behaved mother you are. I’m sure your kids take after you, huh?”

He palms the globes of your ass, thumbs tucking under your bikini bottom as he appreciates the roundness of your behind. 

In front of you, Satoru’s jerking himself off. A bead of pre pools out from his bubblegum pink tip. He taps the cockhead on your lips. You kitten lick his slit, making sure to really get in here. He lets out a, “Jeez, your husband’s an idiot. He’s missing out on a special grade woman here.” He peers down at you, grinning. “Is your mouth as talented as the rest of you, mama? Gonna suck my dick, hmm?”

What choice do you have other than to take that impressive cock down your throat?

Opening your mouth nice and wide, you try to swallow as much of his length as you can. Satoru holds your face in place so he can push himself in little by little. He tastes salty, but you can’t tell if it’s because of his skin, his pre-cum, or because of the sea. Maybe all three. 

Behind you, Suguru’s breath blows on your sensitive skin. “Gonna let me taste you, pretty girl?”

“Tell me how hot MILF pussy is, Suguru,” his friend demands, pale abs contracting with the fight not to cum too soon. His muscular thighs help keep your balance, and when you accidentally dig your nails too hard after he hits the back of your throat by accident, you’re surprised to hear him whimper, “Ngh, mommy!” Then he groans. “Fuck, that’s embarrassing.”

Suguru laughs. “Embrace the kink, Satoru. You’re not fooling anyone.”

“Shut up.”

It’s weird, now that you think about it, that someone other than your children is calling you mommy. Even weirder than it’s not a child at all. Though oddly, you don’t mind it. Perhaps you’d even go as far as to say that it’s turning you on.

What can only be Suguru’s nose traces your slit through the swimsuit. His hands grip your thighs, squeezing the ample flesh there like it’s a stress toy. A drop of trepidation clutches your chest; what if you smell bad? What if they find the pussy that’s birthed three children unattractive? 

When he gets his fill of your scent, and lets out an, “Oh god,” your worries evaporate in the scorching heat of his undeniable desire for you. 

You expect him to pull the gusset to the side, just as Satoru had done earlier, but he surprises you instead by untying, with far too much ease, your bottoms entirely. Cool air wafts through your heated folds. Your whole body shakes. 

What if someone wanders over to where you three are? 

There’ll be no hiding, no explaining why you’re bare down there. 

Suguru parts your lips for his eyes and you forget all about the law. He says, “Her pussy’s as pretty as the rest of her, Satoru. So wet and needy. And look at her adorable clit, pulsing my name.”

“You mean, my name,” Satoru counters, hips rutting inside your hot mouth. He pets your hair and coos down at you, “Isn’t that right, Mrs. Loves Young Dick? Mrs. Hates Her Husband’s Tiny, Wrinkled Dick?”

He’s having too much fun lording his power over you. He needs to be punished — you massage his balls with one hand, rolling the heavy sack in your palm, and allowing your fingers to brush over the puckering hole hidden away. 

“S-shit!”

Satoru’s knees quiver, threatening to buckle from under him. An attack on his tip with your swirling tongue, on his balls, and his asshole is too much for anyone, no matter how virile. But you don’t want him to cum yet. It’d be too early so you let his balls go and focus on staying balanced behind the big rock that covers all three of you from view of the whole beach. 

A tongue licks a stripe from your clit to your entrance, scooping a mouthful of your overflowing wetness. 

Suguru groans. 

His whole face is buried between your cheeks, lapping up your juices as though he’s dehydrated. That skillful tongue of his rubs your clit in tight circles just how you like it, giving enough pressure for you to feel already close to cumming. 

It flicks up and down, pushing the nerves there to their limits. 

Your legs quiver. You shuffle on your feet, undecided between pushing back so he’d get even deeper or pulling away from the unbearable bliss. Your moans come out muffled. The vibrations have Satoru’s hips jolting deeper inside you, bruising your throat. 

Suguru worms the wet appendage in your cunt, licking your pillowy walls. He moans straight inside you. You feel the vibrations there shoot through your body, up your spine, and go straight to your head. 

Someone, or both of them, plays with your swinging tits. You don’t have it in you to feel any embarrassment at how they’re saggier than the breasts women their age have. Not when they make no mention of it. Only the sounds of their pleased groans at the feel of every part of you reaches your ears. 

They pull both of your tits out of the confines of the bikini top, allowing them easy access to your nipples, which they rub and pull and flick as they please.

Distantly, you can still hear the thrum of life on the beach, of people playing in the water, of waves crashing on the rocks. Under you, the mid-thigh level water gently laps at your body, grazing your nipples delectably.

“She tastes like the finest wine, Satoru,” Suguru says. His hand has rounded your belly, pressing up at your pelvis. You gasp around his friend’s cock. The urge to pee has arisen, and it’s making you delirious. 

Above you, he makes a disgusted sound. “Ugh, don’t describe her pussy juice with alcohol. Describe it in terms of candy. How sweet is she, Sugu?”

“The sweetest,” he answers, unbothered by Satoru’s peculiar demands. “Here, taste her.” Suguru stands, rubbing his bare cock over your drenched pussy lips. His cockhead catches on your clit and you find your hips grinding back, seeking out that incredible hardness. 

You don’t know what happens above you. But you can imagine, from the sudden wet smacking sounds and the dirty groans they both make, that Suguru’s giving Satoru a taste of your pussy which he had collected on his tongue. Somehow, that has you clenching on air. 

“Sweet,” Satoru gasps. “So sweet. Fuck, Suguru, I can’t take any more of this. I wanna feel her. Wanna be inside her.” 

“Me too,” Suguru says, grabbing his cock and tapping it up against your clit. You feel wet strings form and break, splashing a little onto your skin. Or maybe it’s just the sea. 

Satoru pulls himself from your throat, jerking his cock at the sight of your swollen, glossy lips which the tip is bumping. Finally, you get a reprieve for your sore throat. You greedily gulp air down, overwhelmed by the devastating emptiness you find inside you now. 

The other man gathers your wet hair and tugs you up, back flushed against hard chest. Satoru squeezes your heaving tits, bending down to blow raspberries between. He’s motorboating you. Like an idiot. 

Just as Suguru had done to you, you yank him by his hair and drag his face to yours. You kiss him. He quickly reacts, moaning into your mouth. It’s a sloppy kiss. All tongue, saliva dripping down chins, and at one point, he even sucks your outstretched tongue like it’s a cock. 

It’s obvious these boys must have been playing with themselves when they don’t have a woman to torture. 

Lucky.

“Up,” Suguru says.

You jump into Satoru’s arms, legs wrapping around his narrow hips. Wet tits get squashed against his chest. Hard nipples scrape slippery skin. 

Someone cock prods your pulsing entrance. You pant for it, desperate to feel full, to feel cock that isn’t your husband’s, cock that you know will reach the deepest parts of you and will have you feeling it for days. 

But then…

Another cock prods your entrance too.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out. “You can’t both fit inside me!”

“Shhh, pretty girl. Don’t worry about anything. We’ve got you. We’ll make it fit,” Suguru says, leaving a kiss on the crook of your neck. 

“You’re a champ,” Satoru adds, with a shit-eating grin. He licks a stripe up your cheek, as though it’s revenge for what you had done to his no-longer-pink-from-the-slap-only-from-arousal-cheek. “You can take us, can’t you?” he asks. He’s put on that baby voice again. “Mommy won’t disappoint us, will she?”

Swallowing a moan down, you say, “I-I can try.”

“Atta girl,” they say in unison. 

Together, they push in. 

Your nails dig into Satoru's back, no doubt leaving pink crescents. You grit your teeth. The pressure is intense. It’s nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s far too much too fast. You cry out, “I can’t do it!”

Suguru mumbles into your ear, though he’s struggling too, “It’s a-alright. Just breathe.”

You’ve already gone this far, already done things you would have never thought to do before you left the hotel room an hour or two ago. This can’t be where you give up. You want everything they have to offer, and if your boys want to feel you at the same time, then that’s what you’ll give them.

It seems like another hour passes under the blaring sun before they stop pushing in. When you peer down between your body and Satoru’s, you’re bewildered at the sight of his cock not even being half way in. 

Yet, they’re satisfied. 

For now. 

Slowly, they both start rocking in. Gently. Carefully. Testing the waters. 

It’s not an easy fit.

Still, nothing could hurt as much as labour, so this isn’t too bad for you. Somewhere beyond the sting, there’s a blooming pleasure. Perhaps born from the depravity of having cocks that aren’t your husband inside you, cocks belonging to men much younger than you, and from being fucked by two men somewhere you could be caught. 

Satoru kisses you to distract you from the slight pain at having two cocks impossibly lodged inside you. And as quick as his lips arrived, Suguru’s stealing yours. Then Satoru’s again. Suguru’s. Satoru’s. Back and forth, you alternate between them, becoming lightheaded at the constant twisting and turning and from the sensation of great pressure pushing deeper inside your belly. 

Your eyes, which you hadn’t realised had closed, open to find the two boys liplocked. This is what you didn’t get to see though you so badly wanted to earlier — their pink lips wrapping around each other, the glimpses of tongues tangling together, of passionate moans mingling. 

They kiss like they’ve been doing this for years. 

Their cocks pulse inside you. 

You lean close, joining in their makeout. Resembling puzzle pieces, you three slot together perfectly. Tongue meeting each other and you don’t know who’s where and what, only that everything everywhere feels good. 

With final groans, they bury themselves to the hilt. 

“Oh fuck,” the three of you moan in unison.

Quickly, a rhythm’s built up. They thrusts in turns, as though sawing your gummy walls. With how far they’ve stretched you, you feel your anal walls stimulated by their ploughing, and it’s incredible. 

Maybe you should care that they’re not wearing condoms. But you don’t. Because feeling them bare is wonderful — their veins, the ridges, the flared out cockheads that scrape your walls. It’s all so fucking good. 

Your clit grinds at Satoru’s pelvis whenever he rams his cock into the very base. 

Lips suck your neck, your nape, your tongue, your lips, everywhere they can reach. And you’re pulling hair, scratching backs, bouncing down on cocks in their arms. 

“Take a picture of me on this rock.”

The three of you still.

There’s people on the other side. 

You can hear them splashing around as they adjust themselves. There’s also laughter. Voices from people their age. They don’t know you’re behind the rock, do they? They haven’t seen a glimpse of you three? Didn’t hear your lewd moaning and the squelching and fwop! fwop! fwopping! of wet skin against wet skin?

In your chest, your heart pounds so loudly you think it might give you away. 

“Don’t make a sound,” Satoru mouths. Though as he says that, his hips are still rocking inside you, barely perceptible but definitely there. 

Behind you, Suguru’s no better. His hands are playing with your tits, pulling the buds till they stretch out obscenely, till you’re writhing on their dicks and having to bite down on your lip to stop the whines escaping and blowing your cover. 

They’re more badly behaved than your kids. 

But you’re no rational adult either; you keep bouncing in their arms, riding their cocks as you chase your high. “Don’t -hngh!- stop,” you plead. “It’s so good. So, so, so good!”

Conversations continue on on the other side, as do the clicking of the camera. If they decide to step around the rock, they’re going to get a photo-ful of bare skin, more than what any beach-goers are currently showing. 

None of you care. 

All the three of you want is to cum. 

“D-don’t -fuck- clench down so hard,” Suguru quietly grits out, teeth skimming your shoulder in his effort not to be too loud.

Satoru agrees, long, white lashes fluttering, “Y-yeah, you’re too –hic!– tight already.”

You can’t help it, you wanna say, but what you can only manage is a garbled apology.

In a matter of a couple seconds, your grinding and their thrusting and the moaning and the bouncing speed up to an irregular, erratic rhythm. You’re just doing whatever feels good now, fuck the other people near you. 

Their cockheads keep bumping your g-spot, pushing in so deep inside you you swear you can feel them in your lungs. Their lips suck, their tongues lick, teeth bite, fingers pinch and pull, and rub, hands squeezing and groping and yanking, with pleasure building and building and building until it bursts! 

Your orgasm hits you like a tempest. 

Spasms wrack your body, as do theirs. 

The three of you tremble against each other, moaning and groaning under your breaths.

Your toes curl so hard you almost get a cramp. Your back arches till you’re shoving your tits in Satoru’s face, not that he complains — he can smother his high-pitched whimper in the mounds of your breasts. Your pussy pulses in time with their throbbing. 

“So tight!” one gasps.

“Can’t -hah- breathe. Can’t -hngh- think!”

Hot cum spurts inside you, in double the serving. They paint your walls white, flooding your cunt, tickling your inside. It drives a mini orgasm out of you. Something just as hot splashes all over your skin and theirs. Is it you, Satoru, the sea? 

You lose yourself in them, in their bodies, their taste lingering on your tongue, in the cursed bliss they gifted you.  

The very best orgasm of your entire life has pulled you under water, sinking deeper and deeper into the depths of the sea. 

No more sound is made from the other side. Maybe they were scared off by the sounds you three made, maybe they left long ago, maybe they’re still there. At least, no one’s come to bust you face-to-face. No lifeguard yelling and telling you the police is coming, no unfortunate family scarred for life. 

It all worked out for itself.

There’s a smile on your face when you’re gently placed back on your feet. It widens after every kiss they leave on your lips in gratitude. 

Suguru rakes a hand through his hair, pushing unruly strands back. He mirrors your expression as he touches between your legs. He feels the searing cum dripping out of you, and fucks it back inside with his thick fingers. “Told you we’d make it fit.”

“Yes, you did,” you say, laughing and moaning simultaneously with the last thrums of pleasure left inside you. 

Satoru yanks that hand out and shoves it into his own mouth, heartily sucking on the mixed juices. “Mmm. Salty.”

You’re flushed, entranced by the sight. 

They’re filthier than any other man you’ve met. 

And more gentlemanly too — they find your bottoms for you, putting back it in place, the same with your bikini top, before they tuck themselves back in their shorts. Within minutes, any evidence of your wrongdoings is swept away by the current, with only the sun as your witness.

“Thank you,” you tell them. Sincerity coats the words. 

They brought to life something you thought had been dead a long time ago, something that maybe was never alive inside you, something that a loveless marriage had buried. They reminded you you are a woman, not just a wife or a mother. 

You have worth. 

You have value. 

You can start over again.

When wetness clings to your lashes, their gazes soften. 

Suguru tucks your hair behind your ear. “You’re going to be alright, pretty girl.”

“The whole world’s your oyster,” Satoru adds, nodding proudly. “Always was.”

At the same time, they brush away the tears about to fall. They suck the wetness coating their skin, releasing satisfied sounds at your saltiest taste. 

Everything that happens after that is a blur. 

Maybe you continued playing in the water with them for another couple hours. Maybe you fucked them in turns. And at the same time again. Maybe you went back to your lounge chair straight away and napped the rest of the time.

It’s hard to tell. 

The only thing you remember after is being woken up by your three children shaking you. 

You stand, stretching your weary limbs, cover-up forgone. Your parents look tired, the kind of tired a long day taking care of children creates, which you know all too well. You give them an apologetic smile. They reject it with a shake of their heads, as though saying, ‘you never need to thank us.’

“Mommy, mommy, we collected sea shells and got ice cream and buried granddad in the sand!” one of them tells you, pulling at your arm. “We had the greatest day ever!”

You smile down at him. “Oh, very good, sweetheart.”

“It was awesome!” the middle child chimes. “A seagull tried to take my sandwich but I shooed it away, mommy!”

“How brave,” you say, pinching his chubby cheek. 

The oldest gives you a disappointed look. “Were you just sleeping, mommy? That’s not good. You wasted a whole day at the beach!”

Ruffling her hair, you say, “You got me. But I don’t think it was a waste.” 

Though you feel thoroughly spent, you’re pleased to discover a renewed energy inside you. You pack up faster than you thought you would, you chat with your kids and catch up with your parents, and look forward to dinner, musing what it’d be.

To all three of them, and to your parents, you ask, “Okay, ready to go back to the hotel?”

Their simultaneous yawns are your answer.

Your family makes its way to the road back, trudging, exhausted, through the heavy sand with the sun about to set and people staying back to watch the sky explode in orange and pink. 

Bags in your arms, you look back, unable to resist the allure.

The two of them are already looking at you. They’re dressed in the same clothes they had been when they first introduced themselves — hoodie adorned, hair tied up, and sunglasses on. They lift the coconut cups they were sipping high up in the air in what you know to be both a salute and a goodbye. 

One of your kids grabs your attention. 

Something calls you to look back one more, only seconds later. When you do, you’re not very shocked to find them gone from their place at the hut. Disappeared. As though they were never there in the first place. 

In the distance, on the water which reflects the sun’s warm glow back, you see two sparkles, like stars that guide lost souls in the dark. 

You face forward, smiling.

You can’t explain what happened today to anyone. Not when you can’t even explain it to yourself. It can just remain as a precious memory, one that might fade into a thing that you’ll convince yourself was real when it starts to feel like a dream. After all, there’s a beauty in forgetting the details, of the hows and the whos and the where and whens, but not the why.

Because the why will forever be engrained in your very soul. 

Safe to say, then, you won’t be forgetting about your day at the beach any time soon.

You can mark it as the day you decided to file for divorce. 

[shuasplug]

it’s CRIMINAL that there isn’t many fairytail fanfics like wym😣😣 fairy tail got some of the most DROP dead GORGEOUS men I’ve seen and only me and like 5 others are thirsting over them??💔💔

[its-pip-art]

The dream tbh part 2 🥰

Part 1

[floatyflowers]

Strange Reunion| Dark! Baelor x Single mother! Reader x Dark! Maekar

Summary: Maekar and Baelor were shocked to see their sister, the reader, who had disappeared a long time ago. She looked exactly the same as they remembered her, and was holding a child she claimed was her own. You, however, were utterly confused, as you were from the modern world and have no idea who these men were, and how you got here.

"Where are you taking her?"

Your voice raises as you lunge forward, fingers clawing at empty air. The maid, a stern-faced woman in grey linen, has already turned her back, your daughter bundled against her chest like a parcel.

The baby's wail rises thin and sharp above the noise of the tournament grounds, then fades as the woman disappears behind a canvas partition.

Your life has fallen apart twice.

The first time, you woke up in a hospital with nothing. No memory. No name that felt like yours. No explanation for why the doctors smiled and told you that you were pregnant.

They sent you to a women's shelter after that. A small room with thin walls and a door that didn't lock properly. You stayed there for months, staring at a ceiling stained with water damage, trying to remember a life that refused to come back. Eventually, you stopped trying.

You got a job. Saved what you could. Signed a lease on a tiny apartment that was cold in winter and hot in summer.

It wasn't much. But it was yours.

Then came the baby.

She was born on a quiet Tuesday, screaming and angry and perfect. The nurses cleaned her up and laid her on your chest, and you looked down and felt the ground shift beneath you.

White hair. Not blonde, but white, like fresh snow, soft as cobweb. And her eyes, when she finally opened them, were a pale, strange indigo that didn't belong to any family you could remember.

You asked the doctors if something was wrong. They ran tests. Checked charts. Talked in low voices outside your door. No albinism, they said. Probably a genetic mutation. Rare but harmless.

But in the end, you accepted the reasoning, because she wrapped her tiny fingers around your thumb and wouldn't let go, and honestly, that was all the answer you needed.

For a while, things were okay. Steady. Safe, even.

Then you woke up here.

Here makes no sense.

A tournament field stretching out under a sky that's too bright, too wide. The smell of horses and dirt and smoke. Flags snapping in the wind. The roar of a crowd somewhere you can't see.

You were lying in the grass with your daughter in your arms, and before you could even get to your feet, men in leather armor grabbed you by the elbows and dragged you through the camp like they'd been looking for you.

Now you're standing in a tent that costs more than everything you've ever owned. Red and black silk for walls. A carpet thick enough to sink into. A dragon stitched into every surface, coiled around a sword.

And two men blocking your way out.

They are older than you. Brothers, clearly, though the resemblance lives more in their bearing than their features, one has white hair and violet eyes while the other has heterochromic eyes, one dark eye and one violet eye.

The man with silver white hair looks like he is about to explode.

"You have some explaining to do." His voice is low, tight, barely controlled. "Right now."

You take a step back, His eyes, violet, burning, hold something you weren't expecting. Not just anger. Betrayal. The kind that has been waiting years for a target.

"Maeker." The taller brother's voice is calm, as he steps forward, and his hands settle on your shoulders, warm, and steadying.

You flinch, but he doesn't let go. "There is no need to frighten her."

"Frighten her?" Maeker's laugh is ugly, incredulous. He takes a step closer, and you can smell wine on his breath, leather, the sharp tang of someone who has been sweating beneath armor.

"She ran off, Baelor. Years ago. Vanished without a word, without a trace, and now she appears out of nothing in the middle of a tourney field with a child—" His gaze cuts to the partition where the maid disappeared, and something in his expression shifts, darkens, and becomes harder to read.

"—and looking exactly the same. Not a day older. Not a single day."

His voice breaks on the last word.

Baelor's fingers tighten on your shoulders. Forcing you to turn around and face him, he begins studying your face with an intensity, searching for something, recognition, guilt, an answer to a question he hasn't yet spoken aloud.

"Why are you shouting at me?" The words tear out of you before you can stop them, raw and ragged, fueled by the maternal terror of your daughter being carried away and the vertigo of standing in a place that cannot be real.

"I don't know you." You pull free of Baelor's hands and back up until you hit the tent wall. The silk is cold against your spine. "I don't know either of you. I don't know where I am. I don't know why I'm here. And you took my baby from me."

Maekar glares at you. After the anger drains out of his face slowly, like water through a crack, and what's left behind is worse. Confusion. Then doubt. Then something that looks a lot like fear.

Baelor's hands drop to his sides.

"She doesn't remember," he says softly.

Maekar's mouth twists.

"She's lying."

The words fall hard and flat between you.

Baelor does not look away from your face.

"No," he says quietly. "She isn’t."

Maekar scoffs. "You've always been soft with her."

"I know when she lies" Baelor's voice doesn’t rise, but something in it sharpens. "She looks to the left when she invents something. Her mouth tightens before she speaks. She cannot hold my gaze."

You realize, with horror, that you are holding his gaze now. Not because you mean to, but because you are too terrified to look away.

Maekar studies you again. Slowly. Carefully.

And then he smiles.

It is not a kind smile.

"Well," he says lightly, "if she has forgotten… we know how to remind her."

Your stomach drops.

Baelor's expression does not change, but something dark passes behind his eyes. Not surprise. Not disagreement.

Agreement.

"You were ours," Maekar continues, stepping closer. You press harder against the silk wall of the tent, but there is nowhere left to go. "Long before you vanished. Long before you decided to play at running away."

Your voice shakes. "I didn’t run from you. I don’t even know who you are."

"You are our sister," Baelor replies softly.

The word hits like a blow.

Sister?!

Your breath almost stops.

Maekar's hand comes down beside your head against the silk, trapping you between him and the wall. He doesn’t touch you, not yet, but the heat of him feels suffocating.

"You were promised to no one," he explains. "Given to no man. Because you belonged to us."

Baelor steps closer on your other side. Not crowding you quite as aggressively as Maekar, but close enough that you feel surrounded.

"In the training yard," Baelor murmurs, "you stood at my side. You rode with us. You fought with us. The court whispered that you were more dragon than lady."

"And in private," Maekar adds, voice dropping, thick with something possessive and unashamed, "you were ours in ways no one else was."

Your heart slams against your ribs.

"No," you deny it with pure disgust.

But they aren’t looking at you like men spinning a story.

They’re looking at you like men who have lost something precious, and finally found it again.

"You swore you would never leave." Maekar reminds you of something you don't remember.

"I. Don't. Know. You!" You repeat.

"You do." His voice cracks with fury. "You vanished. One night you were in your chambers. The next, gone. No horse taken. No guards bribed. No body found. You simply… ceased to exist."

Baelor's hand lifts slowly, hesitantly, as though approaching a frightened animal. His fingers brush a strand of your hair away from your face.

"You have not aged," he says quietly. "Not a day. We have as years have passed." His jaw tightens.

Your mind reels. None of this fits. None of it aligns with fluorescent hospital lights and social workers and a cramped apartment with peeling paint.

"I woke up in a hospital," you whisper desperately. "I didn’t know my own name. They told me I was pregnant. I've never been here. I have never seen you."

Silence follows after you finish.

Maekar's eyes shift at the word pregnant.

"The child," he says slowly.

A chill snakes down your spine.

"She has the blood of the dragon," Baelor says before you can speak. "Anyone with eyes can see it."

White hair.

Violet eyes.

Your daughter's face flashes in your mind, bundled in the maid’l"s arms.

"She is mine," you say, louder now, something fierce cutting through the fear. "Whatever you think, whatever story you've built in your heads, she is mine."

Maekar studies you for a long moment.

"Of course she is," he agrees. "And if she is yours…"

His gaze sharpens.

"Then she is ours as well."

"No."

Baelor's expression loosens, but it does not ease your fear. "You were never meant to be separate from us," he asserts.

"Not in rule. Not in blood. Not in loyalty."

"Not in love," Maekar finishes.

"You don’t own me," you say, though your voice trembles.

Maekar's smirk returns, "You always hated that word."

Baelor's hand drops, but he doesn’t step away. "We do not wish to frighten you," he assures you.

"If your mind has broken itself to survive whatever happened, we will mend it."

The certainty in his tone is more terrifying than Maekar’s anger.

"And if it does not return," Maekar adds calmly, "we will simply start again."

"Start… again?"

"With you," he says. "As we did before. Day by day. Until you remember where you belong."

Your pulse pounds in your ears.

"I belong with my daughter."

Baelor nods, smiling at you as he plays with his rings.

"Then you shall remain with her."

You feel relief but it quickly dies as he continues.

"Here."