#[ please follow and reblog this to help spread that good good word ]

[artemishasthebluez]

actually pissed the save gaza tags arent trending but shit like hazbin hotel was. please please PLEASE start spreading those tags. we need to speak up. thousands are dying. the isreal defense force and hamas is commiting war crimes against palestine. gaza’s death toll has reached 26,257 Palestinians killed and 64,797 wounded since the start of the war.

V**ziepop is a zionist and actively supports the war crimes Isreal is commitjng. She is DISGUSTING. She mocks the boycotts and is on Isreal and Hamas’s side.

if you have any available money, please donate to the following charitys, and if you dont, please speak up against hamas and isreal by spreading the word. the last remaining hospital in Gaza has been attacked. noone has anywhere to go.

update: i have been informed that tumblr is on isreals side. do NOT give tumblr good reviews, dont buy shit from them. they are supporting actual fucking war crimes. its time to stand up. we will not be silenced.

FREE GAZA AND PALESTINE.

Just because the strike is over doesn’t mean we stop fighting.

some other posts for info:

ALL OF THESE POSTS ARE NOT BY ME. I REBLOGGED THESE. PLEASE DONT CREDIT ME FOR THESE.

DO NOT STOP REBLOGGING

[lucyandthepen]

salted caramel | lmh ( m )

you hadn’t been aware that mark’s jealousy followed the rules of baseball — three strikes, and he snaps?

read the first part here!

pairing: barista!bf!mark x reader verse: college!au rating: r warnings&tags: unprotected sex, mentions of creampies (although not an actual one), hickeys, possessiveness and jealousy, exhibitionism, sort of phone sex in conjunction with said exhibitionism, oral (m!receiving), mark has an understated but unending obsession with mc’s stomach, tummy bulges, we always love an implicit bigdick!mark, donghyuck is kind of a little shit and basically he has to cross a few lines for this “plot” to get to where it gets word count: 20.3k

a/n: this is a bit rushed and panicked because I basically wrote it in a feverish 2.5ish days… i’m so sorry that the pacing might be a little off, especially since I can never tell if it’s actually too fast or not. this is also unedited and unbeta’d but oh well because i never edit my stuff before posting and just re-edit when I re-read! regardless, i hope it’s something that you can enjoy, and i couldn’t pick between sweetest bf ever!mark and hottest mf ever!mark, so i guess you get a little bit of both!

if you liked it, please consider reblogging to support (especially because this may get flagged for mature content)!

You should have noticed it the first time, but in your overall defense, you find most things that you take note of about Mark Lee to be more on the highly positive and greatly endearing side — or, maybe, you just have a tendency to paint him in that kind of light.

You can’t really help it; he’s still got that halfway shy, softly adoring look in his eyes whenever he sees you, which is more often now than ever before, and you just can’t do anything but reciprocate, if only to see his eyes grow a little brighter. You wonder if Mark’s aware that if this were a Shakespearean scenario, you’d easily fall on your sword for him without question, for as long as he asked, but you don’t think there’s any pressing need to remind him — not with the way you spend most of your free time figuring out ways to be with him. You’re certain he should know, what with the fact that every time he looks at you, even just a glimpse, your gaze is always on him, ready to make eye contact whenever he turns his head — something he often acknowledges with one of those signature blushes that spread like wildfire across his cheeks, up to the tips of his ears.

It also should be unmistakably clear that you’re head over heels for him, given how at least once a week, he’s got his face buried between your legs in an attempt to hear the thing he wants you to say the most (see: his name, in varying pitches and decibels) — but if he doesn’t notice then, you can’t hold it against him; Mark’s mouth is so attentive that you doubt his mind is anywhere else apart from what inch of you his tongue is going to meet next in that moment. At least, that much is true for you.

He should at least know, what with you waiting for his classes to end so you can walk to Starbucks for his afternoon shift; you even race the twenty-minute distance to the Department of Mathematics, still holding your European Renaissance History textbook from your last lecture, just to make sure you’re there right as he gets out — a fact he has to know is an act of devotion, considering how often he finds you heaving for air and leaning your back against the brick wall outside the Accounting 150 Lab. Even his professor knows you as Mark Lee’s admirer, which is all well and good, but if you had the breath to spare, you’d correct his terminology for accuracy. Girlfriend. You’re Mark Lee’s girlfriend.

It’s a fact you don’t mind reminding him of but that you actually have to do quite often, because when you call Mark the appropriate counterpart — boyfriend — his eyes still widen, like he’s hearing it for the first time. It’s cute, just like everything else about him. You just have to wonder, at times, if he doesn’t believe you.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter; you’ll just keep telling him.

You don’t have any classes with Mark this semester, which is a shame, considering your favorite pastime over the last few months had just been to stare at his side profile and wish he’d look over so you could kiss him, but the fact that you spend almost every day with him now, using that time to remind him of how much you want to kiss him and actually getting it to do it right then and there, pretty much more than makes up for your previous schedule of daydreaming.

However, hanging out with him doesn’t always mean you’re just with him; you came to learn this after the first week of the new semester, and you’ve now gotten used to the fact that with Mark Lee sometimes comes his band of tall, often loud friends.

The loudest by far is Lee Donghyuck, the mysterious figure last semester that you’d only known by one syllable, now easily recognizable (and no longer enigmatic by any means to you) by his booming voice and even more demanding personality. He’s supremely outgoing, a trait you can’t say you mind, but there’s an interesting contrast between Mark, who tends to say things after carefully considering his ideas, and Donghyuck, who seems to just burst out in fits of impulsive rambling that often leads to some kind of semi-structured debate. It kind of gives you whiplash, in a funny, slightly perplexing way.

The whole friend group likes to meet up at Starbucks while Mark is on his shift, and now that they’ve come to know you as that girl Mark didn’t teach a single thing in College Algebra to but still somehow got lucky with (something you’ve wasted immense efforts into correcting but have ultimately failed to do so), you now find yourself sitting with them, all somehow waiting for who appears to be the nucleus of this group to stop taking coffee orders and hang up his (cute, but you’re the only one that thinks so, actually) green apron.

Again, you don’t mind it; new people aren’t an issue to you, and you’re also interested in finding out more about Mark through those closest to him. You get to see the few ways they’re alike in contrast to the staggering number of things that make them amusingly different from one another. Despite the broad spectrum of their intersecting interests, you’ve come to learn, through the conversations you’ve had to sit through over the last month, that they have varying opinions on said interests. For instance, you know they’re all into video games, Japanese manga, and long-winding fantasy movies, but every conversation takes flight the moment there’s even a spark of dissent from one person — and the source, usually (and quite unfortunately), is Lee Donghyuck himself.

Today is no exception.

“Dude, you’re crazy,” Zhong Chenle practically seethes. Whether by sheer coincidence or actual desire, he’s the one who most often finds himself staring Donghyuck down, trying to bend the latter’s will into admitting defeat. Donghyuck, on the other hand, has mastered the art of looking supremely unperturbed, especially when Chenle is in the heat of his rage. “The ninth was the worst, hands down.”

“Art and rendering were so solid.” Donghyuck raises a finger, and you’re not sure if it’s to start off a list or to shut Chenle up. You don’t want to ask, anyway, too busy finding amusement in the shifting expressions of despair, rage, anguish, and murderous intent on the latter’s face to speak up. You presume that’s why everyone else isn’t stopping them — or maybe they’re just preparing their own defenses and points to raise. “Intuitive combat and flawless combo chains. The fucking open world? Which other installment in the franchise offers that much depth in the gameplay?”

“Depth? Do you even hear yourself right now?” Chenle grips his head so tightly that when he pulls his hands away, there are actual red marks across his forehead and temple, and his bangs are askew. “What kind of depth comes from cloned movesets? The character designs are so stupidly traditional too. And—”

“There’s a unique kind of beauty in familiarity.”

“The open world was a disaster,” Chenle plows on. “It was so empty, and the map was the farthest thing from intuitive. It’s quite literally the worst thing KOEI has ever done. That’s exactly why they went back to the limited map strategy in later installments. Even the spin-offs.”

“I thought the grappling and ambush systems were pretty intuitive. Ingenious, even.”

It’s a singularly amusing sight — Chenle is one insult to his pride away from imploding, and Donghyuck is just checking the dirt under his nails like he’s waiting in line to take his school ID photo. Park Jisung, one of the quieter ones in the bunch, tries to diffuse the tension by clearing his throat and going ‘I actually really liked the Age Of Calamity Zelda one they released with all the different campaigns,’ but that just goes unnoticed by either party.

“You once failed an ambush play just because you were stuck behind a wall you couldn’t scale. Don’t say shit about the ambush and grappling mechanics.”

“Unlike some people sitting around this table, I learn from my mistakes. That’s also probably why some people — not naming names — just can’t appreciate the artistic beauty that is Dynasty Warriors 9.”

Donghyuck doesn’t even look up from his cuticles when Chenle explodes.

“You’re fucking impossible!”

“Can you guys relax?” Lee Jeno, who had somehow miraculously found the space and silence in the breaths between the entire argument to doze off, opens one eye, only slightly irate. “You’re making a scene over a dead game franchise.”

“It’s not dead; they’re on hiatus,” both Chenle and Donghyuck chime in together, apparently finding a moment of unique solidarity to shoot Jeno down before going back to glaring daggers at each other. Jeno shrugs, gives everyone else at the table an I tried kind of exasperated expression, and settles back into his seat, the one eye already closing before he’s fully folded his arms across his chest.

Your eyes wander away from the group over to the counter. You’re thankful for the fact that most of the time, you just get invited to share a table with them without necessarily being trapped in the middle of a conversation — especially one as heated as the one Chenle is prolonging while jabbing his finger accusingly at Donghyuck, as if he’s trying to pin a crime on the latter instead of just explaining why Donghyuck’s opinion is ‘borne of ignorance.’ When they’re all caught up in their business like this, you end up being able to revel in your more or less unobstructed view of Mark behind the barista’s station, where he’s busy piping an extra helping of whipped cream on top of a strawberry frappuccino for a kid that’s already jumping up and down next to the pick-up station.

The biting winter had already given way to the first signs of spring, and the Starbucks Mark works at has a supremely effective central heating system that allows people to shed their coats. This works in your favor, considering Mark wears nothing but a button-up shirt over his apron while he works, and he’s got this habit of rolling up his sleeves so they don’t catch any stains. You’re pretty sure he has a second motive, though; surely, he’s aware of how the view of his arms, muscles tightening under his skin whenever he even lightly grips something, drives you crazy. You’d bet a month’s allowance he’s doing it on purpose so that you start entertaining the thought of yelling at everyone in the branch to fuck off so you can grab him by the front of his stupid shirt so you can kiss his stupid face. Or ride it.

And for some inexplicable reason, he still has the audacity to act like there’s nothing amiss. When he looks up at you right after pushing the frappuccino towards the little girl, his eyes still brighten, almost innocent in their gaze, the corners of his lips turning up surreptitiously, hiding the smile he seems to save for only you from everyone else in the room.

You smile back, but when he turns away to take someone’s order, you let out a heavy sigh and take a long sip of your vanilla sweet cream cold brew until you start reaching the last dregs of it under the ice. Your brain pretty much cries out in protest, but you know it deserves as much as a mental cold shower for entertaining the thought of asking him to bend you over the counter at five-thirty in the afternoon in a Starbucks.

Stupid Mark. Stupid brain. Stupid fucking people in the room.

The warm breath in your ear alerts you to a slowly approaching presence, but you don’t have the reflexes to turn back to its source before it starts talking.

“Got anything to add to either of our cases, ___________?”

“What?” Your palm comes up to rub your ear as Donghyuck pulls away, laughing lightly. You’re sucked back into the foreground of the conversation, but you’re just as lost now as you had been before you started tuning them out in favor of your lust. “Uh — no. Sorry. To be honest, I know nothing about… sorry, what were you guys talking about again?”

“See, that’s how normal people act,” Jeno grumbles, both his eyes flying open this time. “Instead of hosting a presidential debate about Dynasty Warriors.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” You’re quick to add, and Jeno looks mildly amused at your attempt to still mollify the rest of the group. “I’m sure I would have liked it. If, you know, I actually had been introduced to it at any point in my life.”

“And if you had, I’m sure you’d have the taste to assert alongside me that the seventh installment was revolutionary,” Chenle sniffs, but he’s looking more pointedly at Donghyuck, who’s still ignoring him, save for the fact that he’s now looking at you instead of at his nails (which doesn’t feel like such a great upgrade).

“Nah, she’d be on my side. ___________ looks like she’d appreciate a good, scenic open world and grappling system. Right?”

“Uh…” you say smartly.

“Man, shut up.” Chenle throws his hands in the air before he stands up, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushes it back with astounding force. “Got me so pissed off I need to pee now.”

You have no idea what the correlation is between getting annoyed and needing to use the bathroom, but even if you wanted to bring up your doubts — which you don’t — Chenle is long gone before you can get your thoughts together. It’s only when he’s out of earshot that Donghyuck leans in, almost conspiratorially, to whisper to you again.

“Actually, I think the ninth sucks too. But isn’t it kind of funny how worked up that fucker gets?”

“To be honest, I’ve never known anyone with quite your talent in riling people up,” you admit, and even though you’re not sure what kind of meaning you want attached to that, you notice that he decides to take it as a compliment all on his own, his chest puffing out in pride. “Too bad I have no idea which opinion is really right, or I’d weigh in, too.”

“Not a Dynasty Warriors kind of girl, then?”

“No one is, Hyuck,” Jeno snorts, shaking his head. “You two are the only people I know who still played that past the fifth installment.”

“Fair. I nurture a love for old franchises.” Donghyuck leans back, looking supremely satisfied at how he’s managed to tick off one of his most important ‘to-do’ points of the day. “So what’s your poison, ___________?”

“What’s that mean?”

“You a Gardenscapes kind of girl? Tekken? Maybe you like some good ol’ fashioned LoL?”

“I honestly don’t have the hand-eye coordination to play,” you confess. “I know Mark likes to play PUBG from time to time. I mostly just sit and ask questions, though. The few times I tried playing with him, I swear any normal person would’ve cried. He had to babysit me like crazy. It was a miracle he didn’t throw me out.”

“She even tries to play with him,” Donghyuck whistles lowly. “Dude, how’d Mark get a chick like you?”

“Meaning?”

“You’re way too good for that dope.” His laugh is light and good-natured. “Never thought a moony-eyed weirdo like him would actually wind up with his dream girl — which he’s called you, more than once, by the way. Fucking disgusting, but… I get it. Doesn’t make it less crazy or weird to hear, though.”

“Sorry to put you through that.” You smile, using your straw to stir the contents of your cup. A warmth spreads through your shoulders and down your arms to the tips of your fingers as you digest what Donghyuck’s just said to you, and you find your eyes trailing back to Mark, who’s pulling off his apron. His eyes are already fixed on you, and when you lock gazes, he mouths a wait for me that makes you want to squeeze the life out of something in pure joy. You settle for a soft sigh. “I guess it won’t help if I say your friend over there’s my dream guy.”

“It absolutely will not,” Donghyuck groans, faking a gagging noise that has you laughing. “But tell you what — if you ever get tired of Mark playing PUBG and ignoring you like the clown he is, I’ll find you someone else more your speed.”

“No thanks,” you snort, taking the last sip of your drink. “More than that, I’d just want to be some kind of helpful to him if I ever play with him again.”

“We can help you with that too,” Jisung volunteers. “Jeno taught me the basics. I’m sure he can teach you too.”

“Yeah, and I’m guessing you’d be a better student than mister “how come you didn’t tell me I had to focus the crosshairs myself” over here,” Jeno chuckles, surreptitiously pointing at Jisung when you cast him a questioning look.

“I’m pretty good at sneak attacks myself.” Donghyuck makes a show of pretending to slice your neck before grinning smugly. “We’ll take care of you. Mark won’t know what hit him next time.”

“What’s happening to me next time?”

You feel Mark before you see him, his hand landing on your head lightly and smoothing your hair back in an idle, gentle motion to announce his presence. You look up at him, already beaming, and he returns the favor as his hand settles on your shoulder.

“We were just talking about replacing you. Both as a friend and as a boyfriend, for your poor little dream girl here who’s just too nice to turn you down.” Donghyuck lies like it’s second nature; you wonder if that’s a Finance major thing or just a him thing.

“And you’re offering that to someone who didn’t ask for it?” Mark snorts, nudging Chenle’s bag over so he can sit in the empty spot.

“She’s so caught up in your sticky little web that she can’t struggle against you.” Donghyuck feigns a heavy sigh that suggests he feels sorry for you before he puts a hand on your free shoulder, shaking his head in a convincing kind of pity. “I’ll save you, so don’t worry. Mark can’t keep his grubby hands on you forever. Whenever you need to be saved, I’ll come a-running to free you.”

There’s a tightness on one shoulder that disrupts the balance of your torso, and you find yourself leaning closer to Mark. Your hand finds its way to his knee, giving it a light squeeze under the table, and his grip loosens by a fraction. Donghyuck’s as quick to let go as he is to hang on.

“We were just talking about PUBG,” you correct, and Mark’s eyes snap to you. “I was asking for help — you know, so I won’t drag you down the next time I join in?”

“I don’t mind whatever you do in-game.” He’s quick to comfort you, even if you don’t actually need it, but it feels warm and cold “I’m just glad you wanna try it with me.”

“No, but I kind of want to learn too. So it can be fun for both of us. Also so you don’t have to keep avenging me after five minutes,” you laugh. Mark cracks a smile then, and you don’t realize his expression had been slightly harder until it softens under your gaze.

“Then I’ll teach you next time.”

“No, I want to surprise you with how cool I get. And then next time, I’ll even beat you.” You turn to Donghyuck, slightly unsure. “Uh… I can beat him, can’t I?”

“If you play different teams, yeah,” he confirms. “Trust me. I’ll help you kick his ass.”

“Or we’ll both kick yours,” Mark chuckles, his grasp now tightening and loosening intermittently. He’s massaging your shoulder lightly, and you end up sinking deeper into his side. You don’t miss the slightly nauseated amusement that passes across Donghyuck’s face nor the way he mouths ‘sap’ to Mark, who ignores this comment in its entirety.

“Yo, hotpot at seven? Renjun’s asking,” Chenle announces as he returns to your table, his phone in one hand and a crumpled paper towel in the other. “Jaemin can’t make it, though. Study group or whatever shit he always says.”

“I’m down,” Donghyuck immediately replies, and Chenle’s eyes shoot heavenward, like he’s already asking for the divine strength to not sock Donghyuck in the face later.

“Can’t,” Jeno yawns, both his arms outstretched as he tries to move the sleep out of his spine. “Pre-test tomorrow.”

“Dude, it’s a pre-test,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to study if they’re just testing how much you know before studying.”

“Gotta study all the same.”

“I gotta pass too,” Jisung looks actually apologetic. “I promised my mom I’d help her move some stuff to my aunt’s place tonight.”

“Boring,” Chenle grumbles before turning to the both of you. “Lovebirds?”

“Rain check,” Mark shakes his head. “Family dinner. My brother’s home for the weekend. How about Monday instead? Most of us can’t make it anyway. At least Jaemin doesn’t have study group either.”

“If that’s even what that weirdo’s doing,” Chenle sighs, already punching in a message to send to Renjun. “Fine; I’ll ask about Monday. You guys better actually reply to the goddamn group chat. I can’t coordinate in six different private chats ever again.”

“You can put my name down already,” Mark casts you a sideway glance, and you nod immediately. “Two names, actually.”

“I’m good on Monday too. When we see each other again, I’ll bring some prospects for you to sift through,” Donghyuck adds to you, and you laugh. “Cool guys. Jocks. I know this upperclassman all the girls say is really hot. I think I still have his Messenger from when we did a group discussion last semester.”

“I’ll have Mark look at them so he can reject them all for me,” you promise. Donghyuck feigns affront before looking at Mark in utter disbelief.

“How the fuck did you snag a girl like this, man?”

“I’m pretty sure she once told me I… what did you say?” Mark glances at you amusedly. “I had some moves, I guess.”

“You mean stutter and blush in her presence?” Donghyuck can’t decide how to look at you without being even the slightest bit offensive; he just settles on incredulity. “And that won you over?”

“Most powerful move in the Mark Lee playbook,” you shrug, grinning. “Had me from the first ‘um,’ and he’s had me ever since.”

“You lucky son of a bitch,” Donghyuck snorts, and neither of you misses the slightly abashed but unmistakable smugness in Mark’s face when you lean in to rest your head on his shoulder.

The second time it happens is on that Monday, in a far more noticeable capacity. You just aren’t quick enough to read the signs, as usual.

But in your defense (again), it hadn’t felt all that significant.

“Fuck, this is spicy,” Na Jaemin sucks air in through his teeth and lets it out in a sharp whistle that’s broken by a laugh that’s not necessarily at anything funny. Maybe he’s just laughing at the sheen of sweat across his forehead that he has to wipe off with the other side of his napkin.

Miraculously, the hotpot plan pushes through, with no small amount of effort in coordination on Chenle’s part; he’d even texted you just to make sure he’d gotten the head count right, despite the fact that Mark had already confirmed your attendance twice over. Even the often elusive Na Jaemin, who always seems to have one or another study group to attend on most nights, manages to come and is currently busy mixing his peanut sauce in his little bowl with such vigor that you can’t help but wonder if he’s not trying to drown the mala-flavored strips of meat in it completely.

“That’s why I said you need a bowl of water for dipping, you dimwit,” Donghyuck points his chopsticks at Jaemin’s messy plate in a way you can only describe as nagging, even if that’s actually impossible. “You’ve got super mala breath now.”

“Don’t know about me, but I can smell yours all the way from over here,” Jaemin quips back with an easy kind of nonchalance, hastily ducking the balled-up napkin that goes flying across the table. It lands on the floor behind his chair harmlessly.

It’s nice, you think, that Mark’s friends like to invite you to their outings now; despite all the jokes they’ve made at his expense, they’ve been consistently open to having you around. You’re not necessarily the type of couple that acts in a way that disgusts people into moving to a completely different table anyway, and you allow their conversations to unfold easily without ever interrupting, so you think that this arrangement works for all parties involved.

They’re even louder outside Starbucks, you’ve come to note; the restaurant is significantly busier than the cafe anyway, filled with people on their company dinners, so Mark’s friends all seem to want to rival that boisterous energy. Weirdly, you like it, even when they’re already half off their seats and one (Chenle) is just about to strangle the other (Donghyuck). The laughter flows freely, and there’s a messiness to the whole affair that makes it impossible to feel uncomfortable.

Even Mark pipes in occasionally, offering his opinion on topics he knows much more about than you, and you can’t help but admire how everyone listens to him when he starts to speak, even if he has nothing realistically important to say. His friends might find it odd that you’d been so drawn to him, but they just don’t know that even they’re victims of Mark’s natural magnetism, also falling quiet and eager to hear his voice, his light-hearted laugh, in response to the things they say.

But even when he’s mostly distracted by conversation, there’s a part of him that continuously pays attention to you in his own way. He nudges his ginger and soy sauce bowl towards you with the side of his wrist so you can dip your beef in, even if you’d adamantly declined him giving you your own bowl of it in the first place (you’d always thought you were peanut sauce or nothing kind of girl, but one sneaky venture into Mark’s sauce proved you wrong). His hand hovers over your head when you drop your chopsticks and bend over to pick them up from where they’ve rolled under the table, making sure you’re bump-free when you resurface.

And his palms always, always settle somewhere on you, no matter what he’s doing. If one hand is busy feeding himself, the other is intent on warming your thigh, passing over the denim in slow, steady strokes. His fingers tickle your knee when you laugh, just to make you laugh a little harder — you’d even almost kneed the table at one point, much to Huang Renjun’s alarm. But the most common place for his arm is around you, fingers lightly bunched into the side of your shirt, like he’s worried loosening his grip on you further will cause you to vanish. It keeps him close to you, keeps his scent and warmth washing over you in gentle waves, so much so that you often have to remind yourself that he’ll be the target of much light-hearted mockery if you so much as lean into him and rest your head on his shoulder.

But it’s hard to resist it, especially when his hand seems to be intent on outlining every curve on that side, passing over your hip and dipping into your waist. The motion allows him to slowly but surely lift the fabric of your shirt, up until there’s just enough of an opening for his palm to slip under, and suddenly it’s much warmer on that side, with the light roughness of his hand grazing at your skin. His fingers always stretch apart, like he’s trying to feel as much of you as he can, and the pads of his digits have a tendency to graze the plane of your stomach — his nails sometimes even travel featherlight just next to your navel, etching out words you can’t really decipher. Like he’s writing a message just for you.

It makes you feel like no matter what he’s doing, a part of his mind is always on you.

“You guys want to see that new horror movie? The Ghost Within, I think it’s called,” Jisung asks the group from over at the other end of the table, having to raise his voice significantly to make sure it isn’t swept away by the raucous laughter from across the restaurant. “I think it’s coming out in a week or two.”

“I’d be okay with it,” Renjun shrugs, although he doesn’t look enthused. “Kind of looks like a cliche horror with all those cheap jump scares and shit, but I’m down if you all are.”

A wave of assent passes over the group in general, but you notice Mark doesn’t immediately respond. You take this opportunity to lean in and confess your stance.

“If I have to sit around and watch a ghost pop out at me from a big-ass movie screen, you may never again see me in the same wonderful light you do today,” you warn. “Remember me as I am, not as I will be, Mark Lee.”

He snorts, coughing lightly as a mixture of ginger and fishcake sticks in his throat. “Yeah — we’ll pass, I think.”

“Scaredy-cat,” Donghyuck teases, and you’re surprised that Mark doesn’t come to his own defense. There’s something romantic in him not wanting to be the one to sell you out, but you suppose there’s also a kind of chivalry in being the one to take the bullet.

“Actually, I’m the one who can’t handle it well,” you smile in apology. “Sorry. I don’t have much of a reputation, so to speak, but what elegance may be attached to my name, however misplaced, is something I really want to maintain. At least until I graduate.”

“In short, you don’t want Mark to see you scream and cry,” Chenle deduces. You can’t even find fault in him figuring it out so quickly.

“Bingo.”

“Well, we can solve the problem,” Donghyuck claps his hands, getting everyone’s attention for no good reason. “__________, you sit beside me, and Mark can sit on the far end of the row. With how dark it is, he won’t see anything, and I get to sit next to a cute girl in a movie theater. Win-win.”

“Thanks for the offer,” you laugh, shaking your head. “But it’s not a win-win if I accidentally grab your hand out of instinct.”

“It is to me,” Donghyuck winks, and you feel Mark’s hand stop brushing over your stomach. His fingers curl in lightly, almost like he’s trying to make a fist but can’t quite get to that point out of personal restraint. “Or better yet, you could do what we all think you should do and dump Mark for someone you won’t be ashamed to cry in front of. I, for one, would not even bother to comment on whatever emotions you’re going through in the middle of a movie, so what do you say? It’s a pretty sweet deal, in my humble opinion. Me versus Mark Lee. The showdown of the century, right here in Hai Di Lao.”

You’ve noticed that the more Donghyuck piles onto his little teasing rampage, the more forcefully Mark tugs you over; his fingers aren’t just skimming over your skin but have now grown into the habit of gently pinching it, as if begging for your attention. It feels nice but also a little urgent, although it’s hard for you to understand why; the whole foundation of this group is built on teasing each other until someone (Chenle) snaps and lobs a bottle cap at someone else (Donghyuck), so it should be normal for Mark to be at the receiving end of some light banter.

“Should we ask the hostess to referee the match, then?” You ride along with the joke.

“No way. You’re the one calling the shots.” Donghyuck sits up a little straighter, putting on a smug face. “Okay, pick, __________. Me or Mark; who’s got the better punches?”

You make a show of acting thoughtful, even tapping your chin to pretend considering it deeply, but there was never any doubt on your choice. Still, you can’t really decipher the sudden slowness, the light tremble in Mark’s palm as it travels to your hip, where it settles, heavy, over the curve.

“It’s a complete knock-out,” you finally announce, grinning. “Championship belt goes to Mark.”

“Man, if I had a girlfriend as straight-shooting about her feelings for me as you are about your feelings for Mark, I’d propose in a day, max,” Jeno groans, half-exasperated and half-amused all at once.

“Man must’ve saved a nation or something in his past life,” Donghyuck grimaces. “No way he deserves a girl this hot and crazy about him. Hey — got any tips on stopping natural disasters or something? I could use a sexy, loyal girlfriend in my next life. Or maybe I’ll just poach yours in this one and see what it feels like.”

“I would actually deck you, so don’t even try it,” Mark snorts, his arm now winding full around your waist. You’re flush against his side, and he uses this opportunity to do something he doesn’t often do in front of his friends: show explicit affection by pressing a light kiss just behind your ear. It tickles, his breath grazing your earlobe, and you giggle, squirming in his hold. All he does is smile and pull you in tighter.

The bill’s split eight ways, but Mark’s fishing out cash to pay for your share even before you can get your wallet out from the bottom of your bag; it’s one of those quick, instinctive moves he likes to use on you, where he pushes the money and sends the bill back to the staff before you can even protest in full, so you have to settle on thanking him by returning the earlier favor — landing a peck on his cheek, which flushes a warm and contented pink the moment your lips make contact.

You just pointedly ignore the snickers that run around the table, particularly from Donghyuck and Jaemin.

The group splits ways at the front of the school dorms; most of them head in after their goodbyes, while Chenle backtracks towards his apartment building off-campus, mumbling something about how he hopes his roommate’s in because he accidentally left his key in the bowl next to their doorway. Mark should be piling in with the rest into the dorms, but he has a habit of insisting that he take you to the subway station; you’ve long since given up on convincing him against tagging along, mostly because he looks slightly hurt whenever you try to get him to stay put. You’re not going to complain anyway; for as much as you like being around Mark’s friends, it’s even better when you have this little slice of alone time despite the hassle it brings him.

Your fingers are linked when you walk under the street lights, the campus road leading to the station entrance significantly less busy at this time of evening; it’s cool enough for you to have an excuse to press yourself into Mark’s form, and he accepts this additional burden with an immense amount of grace, his arm finding its way around you again. Two minutes later, his palm is pressed against your bare skin once more, rubbing small, gentle circles just above your pelvis.

A part of you wonders if you’ll be able to do this — lean in, flush against him — when the summer heat starts to stick, but rather than really worrying about the logistics, you realize you’re more hung up on the idea of spending this summer with him.

“Sorry,” Mark murmurs out of the blue. Your eyebrows shoot up, and he looks down at you sheepishly. “Isn’t hanging out with my friends kind of driving you crazy?”

You hum in thought before shaking your head in resolution. “Not really. Not in a bad way, at least. I like how close you guys all are — and how big the group is. It’s usually just Yeji and Jisu with me, and they’re definitely not as rowdy. The change of pace is pretty fun.”

“Yeji and Jisu,” he echoes. “Your best friends. I haven’t met them yet, have I?”

“Not yet. Jisu started a part-time job across town, so we can’t get our schedules to align right just yet.” Your hip collides gently with his. “Should I let you, though?”

“One day… I think it would be nice to hang out with a less migraine-inducing crowd for a change.”

“I’ll tell them, then. They want to meet you.” You crane your neck up slightly, lowering your voice into a hushed whisper that’s completely unnecessary. “They want to know if you’re as cute as you look in your pictures.”

Mark draws back, laughing incredulously. “How do they know what my pictures look like?”

“I stalked your Instagram and showed them,” you answer simply. He throws you a funny look that’s equal parts disbelief and amusement. “They liked that one with the Spider-man costume.”

“Please don’t,” he groans, passing a hand over his face. “I should have taken that down, but I didn’t think anyone would care.”

“Why? I like it.” Your hand’s the one that manages to slip under his sweater this time, fingers trailing down his stomach; you feel him suck it in for a second in surprise before he lets out an exhale.

“I can’t ever understand what’s going through your head,” he chuckles, and you think it’s unfair that he manages to extract your hand from under the fabric while his is still firmly pressed against the side of your stomach. “You saw that and still wanted to date me?”

“Mark Lee, you simply underestimate how much I adore you. It’s kind of hurting my feelings at this rate.”

You’re just a few inches shy of the circle of light cast by the subway station sign. Your feet try to bring you forward, but Mark lingers behind, just outside the curve of soft white on the pavement, and his hand slips from under your shirt. You turn, and his hand skims down your arm instead, fingers locking around your wrist. With the slight distance between you, it looks like you’re caught in motion.

“I still can’t wrap my head around it sometimes.”

“What?”

“I just look over at you and feel like it’s not real. Like you’re going to disappear, and I’m just going to wake up from a dream and see you the next day, just some other stranger who doesn’t even know my name.” He licks his lips, and you want to reach out and kiss him already, but you know he isn’t done talking. “And I’m going to remember how much I liked you in that dream, but you won’t ever feel that same way.”

“You know I’m right here, though, don’t you?” Your fingers mimic his, squeezing around his wrist. “You can feel me. I’m here with you.”

Hesitation flashes across his face even when he nods, and you notice his eyes flit down to his shoes before looking back up at you — a habit of avoidance you know he’s trying to correct. “Sometimes I have to wonder if they’re right.”

“If… who’s right?”

“Them.” He jerks his thumb back in the general direction of the school dorms. “The guys. You know — when they ask me how I got a girl like you… the truth is, I don’t even really know. They can’t believe it, and it’s so crazy to me that I still sometimes can’t myself. So I start wondering if—”

You don’t let him finish this time; it’s rude to interrupt, you know, but you also know that what he’s about to say is probably something neither of you wants to hear anyway. Your lips connect with his, firm and demanding, and his words die in his throat, melting into a soft groan that vibrates against your skin. When you pull away, you don’t create the same distance, and Mark’s hands find their way to your waist, slightly trembling.

“They’re wrong,” you murmur, a quiet strength in your voice. “So stop wondering and just be with me.”

A smile starts tugging on the corners of his mouth, and the next moment, he’s nodding in assent, in wholehearted agreement, and the next kiss you share is one he starts, far more gentle than earlier.

“Next time I catch you entertaining nonsensical thoughts, there’ll be consequences.”

“Are you threatening me?” His laugh is colored with incredulity.

“Yes.” Your tone is firm, but your grin gives away too much of the jest. “Maybe I’ll ground you for a week, or something really childish.”

“I’d take it if you were with me.”

“That’s not how it works,” you snort, gently flicking the tip of his nose. He scrunches it on impact. “You’d be in solitary. You must reflect on your actions and all that nonsense. Meanwhile, I’ll be out having some good hotpot with everyone else.”

“If that happens, promise me one thing, then.” He maneuvers your stance until you’re both back in the blanket of darkness, just out of reach of the subway entrance. “Don’t sit next to Donghyuck.”

“And let him and Chenle give me an earful about how bad-slash-good the first Human Centipede movie was all over again? I think not.”

“No, really.” Mark buries his face into your neck, and you hear the quiet inhale as he breathes in your scent. On instinct, your hand comes up to thread through his hair, nails gently scratching at his scalp. “I don’t want you sitting there and hearing him talk your ear off about how much I don’t deserve you or that he’ll help you find someone better.”

“You know he’s just joking — and I’m just joking, right?”

“Just promise me.”

You pause, wondering if it’s in your best interest to tease him for whatever act he’s pulling, but there’s a shortness to his breathing that makes the whole situation feel weirdly tense. He’s really waiting for something — an answer. The right answer, maybe.

“I promise,” you finally say, and you know you’ve said the correct thing when Mark’s lips press a soft kiss to your collarbone, like he’s sealing in your vow.

On the third time, Mark pretty much gives up.

The strangest thing is that it starts at a time when you’re not even actually together; if you had to pinpoint the exact moment, it probably had to be when Donghyuck had walked you to the dorm from library. No — maybe even before that. Somewhere in the time you’d spent in there, he’d thought up yet another way to push Mark’s buttons. You just didn’t really know the exact minute he’d first seen you with Jung Jaehyun.

You don’t know how Jaehyun does it; he skips half his classes and somehow doesn’t even get in trouble, let alone fail. You’d only met him last semester, but he was just about the only person who was halfway familiar in your Anthropology 120 class, so you thought you could at least feel comfortable enough to chat with him about the weather or what had happened in the last meeting. You don’t expect him to strong-arm you into being something of a literal proxy for him; the first week of the semester, you’d spend almost each lecture period gnawing on your nails and fretting over the fact that your signature for attendance looked nothing like his. By the second week, you’d already come to realize that it doesn’t matter because he had only attended one lecture — the first one — thus far and your professor was as clueless about Jaehyun’s handwriting as you. By the fourth week, you had resigned yourself to being his slightly unwilling associate for his random escapades, allowing him to copy off your notes and turning in his homework for him.

Now that you think about it, that’s probably how he does it.

You sacrifice your free time for him today, caged up in a library for pretty much the afternoon. You can’t help but resent him, not just because the whole room is stuffy and the librarian keeps passing by, clucking to remind people not to litter between shelves, but also because you’d much rather do things that are important to you — like pretending to flirt with Mark for the first time when you place your order and watching him act like it’s the first time you’re saying something so sweet to him, except he’s definitely not pretending. Instead of watching Mark’s face color that cute shade of pink and that sweet little smile pull at his mouth until he’s basically biting his lips back to stop himself from grinning, you have to bore yourself with the sight of Jaehyun trying to decipher your handwriting.

“You should really be more legible with your strokes.” He has the audacity to chastise you as if he’s the one doing you a favor by giving you constructive criticism.

“You should really come to class more often,” you bite back, although there’s no real heat to your words. You just look out the window and watch the sun sink down behind the university hospital building, wondering if there’s a chance you’ll still be able to catch Mark before his shift ends.

“Would if I could.”

“You actually fucking can,” you say tiredly, and even the way he turns the page is so impossibly slow. “Can’t you just take a picture?”

“Nah; writing it down carefully really helps my retention of this kind of stuff.”

“So take a picture and then write it down carefully.”

“With your ridiculous handwriting? I’d probably fail.”

“So come to class and write it yourself!”

Your hiss increases in pitch, and it calls the attention of the librarian over to you. She swoops in, clicking her tongue, but she’s not even looking at you. Her eyes are zoned in on Jaehyun, who meets her gaze with so much innocence it’s hard to imagine you’d wanted to smack him two minutes ago.

“Jung Jaehyun,” the librarian snaps in an undertone. The slow, punctuated way she says his name suggests she knows him fairly well — and not in a great way. “I see you’re back in here after your probationary period.”

“Sorry for the trouble, Mrs. Park.” He grins up at her, looking anything but apologetic. “I promise I won’t get in your way again today.”

“And this one—” She points to you, and you point to yourself in shock at being pointed to, and Jaehyun’s pointing at you and mouthing ‘this one’ with excessive mirth in his eyes. “Isn’t another one of those girls you plan on defiling my sacred space with?”

Jaehyun says ‘we didn’t defile anything’ at the same time you say I’m going to throw up, and the librarian just adds to the noise by shushing you on top of that jumble of words.

“I’ll be keeping a close eye on you two,” Mrs. Park warns before stalking away, tutting at a library assistant for wrongly shelving a volume of Encyclopedia Brittanica.

“Please, Jaehyun,” you groan, crossing your arms over the table and flattening your forehead against them. “Just hurry up. Release me.”

He ignores you, still leaning closer to your notebook to decipher your handwriting. “I would like to set the record straight and make it known I didn’t fuck anyone in the library.”

“What’d you get probation for, then?”

“Just making out.” You notice he has the energy to grin wickedly even without meeting your eye, even while he’s still scrawling on his own notebook, and you groan something incoherent and irate once again. “What are you in such a big hurry for, anyway?”

“Has it ever occurred to you,” you grumble, raising your head. “That some people might want to do better things than sit here and watch you write stuff for ages?”

“No,” comes his simple reply. You bop your head onto your arms a few times in the hope that the impact will shake you out of this nightmare and you’d find yourself waking up in Mark’s arms instead, but you have no such luck. “By better things, do you mean fucking Mark Lee in someone else’s bedroom? That’s real defilement, by the way.”

“How’d you hear about that?” You squeeze your eyes shut and growl under your breath. “Fucking Youngho.”

“You doing that too?”

“Shut — please, would you hurry?”

He pointedly purses his lips in an effort to keep himself from letting out what you can only assume is, by the glint in his eyes, a witch’s cackle. “Almost done, man. Relax a bit. So did you guys get together — like, together together?”

You initially contemplate not telling him, but Jaehyun’s nosiness is probably going to reveal the truth to him sooner or later anyway. “Yeah. What’s it to you, though?”

“Nothing. You’re lucky.”

For the first time today, you feel like Jaehyun has finally said something right. “Yeah — yeah, I am.”

“I bet his friends don’t seem to think so.”

“Is this something you know because it’s a guy thing or because you’re so nosy that you just can’t help but listen in on every other juicy conversation around you?”

“A bit of both,” he chuckles. “Mostly just because I know Lee Donghyuck was giving him a hard time about it last semester.”

“I noticed that too — a bit, anyway. But it’s just banter, I think.”

“Probably. Imagine being his friend and getting a girlfriend; it’s like… the perfect ammunition for teasing. But I’m pretty sure half of the things that come out of his mouth are jokes meant to annoy.”

“What about yours?”

“I get it,” he sighs, shutting your notebook resolutely. It makes a thud that alerts the librarian two tables away, and she glares at you like you’re climbing onto Jaehyun’s lap in the middle of the References on the Korean War aisle. “I’ll set you free. Thanks, by the way, for letting me copy from you. Same time next week?”

“Or how about you look up the schedules for our classes and actually come instead of piggybacking off of my efforts and making snarky remarks about my handwriting while you’re taking advantage of my goodwill?”

“Sounds like too much effort on my end,” he yawns, waving you off as you stuff your notebook into your bag. “Later, ___________. Say hi to Mark for me. The normal way — not the girlfriend way, please.”

You stick your tongue out at him before you make a mad dash for the door, ignoring Mrs. Park as she shushes your footsteps on the marble. You’re so intent on fishing your phone out of your bag that you almost ram the door into the person standing behind it.

“Oh, fuck— Jesus, I’m sorry, I wa— wait, Donghyuck?”

“Great to see you too, ___________.” He rubs his jaw where the edge of the door grazed it. “You in a rush?”

“I was just about to go see if Mark was still at Starbucks.”

“His shift’s probably almost over. I’m headed back to the dorm if you wanna tag along.” When you nod, he starts leading the way, breaking the silence again soon after. “Were you in a study group, or something?”

“No,” you jerk your thumb backwards towards the minuscule form of Jaehyun, who’s now busy wasting time and space playing something on his phone where you’d left him. Donghyuck’s eyebrows shoot up. “He’s my classmate who never comes to class. I was just lending him my notes.”

“Oh, Jaehyun, yeah.” Donghyuck snaps his fingers. “We were classmates last semester. He never went to class either, but I don’t know who he mooched off of to pass. You guys close?”

“Not really. I just fell into the trap of being too nice to him.”

“It’s funny,” he hums, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Jaehyun seems more your speed. On paper, at least.”

You can’t help but look taken aback, and Donghyuck laughs at your expression. “What do you mean, my speed?”

“Not sure.” He pauses, trying to find the right words to explain himself. “Someone who’d fit more into your social circles. Someone who probably likes Formula One and considers men’s health magazines to be classic literature.”

“That’s your impression of my social circle?”

“You know what I mean. People like Jung Jaehyun or Seo Youngho. I literally thought you were dating him last semester, so it was totally crazy to hear you asked Mark out.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Like… you asked him out. Not even the other way around. That’s ridiculous.”

“Why?” You know he doesn’t mean anything bad by it; Donghyuck has next to no filter, and something about him being unable to process your relationship is honestly a little funny. “A girl can’t ask a guy out?”

(You try not to think too hard about the fact that up until you’d cornered him in Youngho’s room, you had been praying to whatever god could hear you to convince Mark Lee to do the romanticist thing and ask you out.)

“Nah, dude. Like… a girl like you asked a guy like him out.”

“I didn’t ask him out because he was a guy like that,” you say pointedly. “I asked him out because he was a guy I liked. I wouldn’t have asked anyone else out if it weren’t him.”

Donghyuck falls quiet for a while, and only the crunching of the leaves underfoot accompanies your walk. “You really like him that much, huh?”

“I’m crazy about him.” His nose scrunches up like he’s been hit with a horrible smell, and you laugh. “Can you stop giving him a hard time? Or tone it down? I know you probably don’t like it—”

Donghyuck’s chuckle is light and easy. “I’m not teasing him because I hate it; let’s be clear on that. I actually really like that you guys are together. I’ve never seen him this happy with anything or anyone.”

“Then why are you—”

“Because he’s Mark.” A devilish grin creeps up his features as he holds the door to the dorm lobby open for you. “And teasing him is my favorite thing to do.”

You shake your head; you can’t help your amusement, but you’re not sure you fully understand this kind of friendship. You suppose if Mark is okay with it in its totality, then there isn’t much you can say to change it either.

The next twenty minutes pass in comfortable back-and-forths; Donghyuck is, as you already have learned, an expert conversationalist, and while he doesn’t aggravate you the way he does Chenle, he does manage to navigate a quick-fire kind of exchange of thoughts and information that allows you to see the speed at which he thinks. There’s barely any lag between when he digests what you say and when he responds. You suppose there’s a measure of wit in that, but it’s also a little bemusing to see someone speak without at least running it through the conscience checker every once in a while. You decide you’ve never met anyone quite like Lee Donghyuck before.

He’s in the middle of asking you what the Anthropology professor is like because he’s planning on taking it as an elective if he can when you notice a familiar figure pushing into the lobby, backpack swinging on a folded elbow.

“Mark!” The brief confusion on his face morphs into a surprised joy when he spots you on the couch, even though a bit of it lingers upon recognizing that Donghyuck is seated next to you. He walks over in long strides, and your posture straightens to meet his palm as it comes down gently against the crown of your head again; it bumps lightly, causing the both of you to laugh.

“Hey, you.” His voice is warm and fond in its greeting, and you beam up at him. “Did you have a busy afternoon?”

“Unfortunately. Did you just get back from your shift?”

“I passed by the co-op to check out the new university letter jackets. Design’s pretty dope.” He nods towards the elevator. “You wanna head up for a little bit?” You almost get to respond before your companion cuts in instead.

“Hey. Can’t you see we’re having a riveting conversation over here?” Donghyuck sniffs, making a show of hitting Mark’s shin lightly with the heel of his shoe. “Have some respect.”

“Is the conversation so riveting that I can’t take my girl for the evening at all?”

You mouth out a no, but Donghyuck’s flair for dramatics has him humphing and shoving Mark’s hand away from your hair. “Yeah, man. At least let us finish up.”

“What’s this even about?”

“How Jung Jaehyun asked her out in the library today,” Donghyuck replies easily. You start, shaking your head immediately, but Mark’s jaw slackens a little upon hearing this. Donghyuck continues loudly over your protests, and you can’t keep your voice straight because you’re adamant and yet, somehow, still laughing incredulously in your shock. “Oh, dude, let me tell you. He had his arm around her like this — and he was giving her the bedroom eyes… I wouldn’t have blamed her if she folded, honestly.”

“Mark, no,” your stupid gasp comes out as half a giggle as a result of Donghyuck trying to reenact his imaginary scenario. He’s slung his arm across your shoulders and pulled himself in, doing his best expression of a pleading dog’s gaze, which is both perplexing and hilarious. “He’s just kidding—”

“Then he got all close like this—” Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, and the view he allows himself blocks him from having to look at Mark. You, on the other hand, are still trying to resist a misunderstanding, your palms up and every part of your body that can move shaking vehemently, but you can see Mark’s face turn a violent shade of red you can’t remember having seen from him before. “Spoke all low — you remember he had that sexy, husky voice, right? ”

“He’s just messing with you,” you wheeze out, trying to extract yourself from Donghyuck’s hold, but he only tightens his arm around your neck, almost to the point where you can’t inhale properly.

“And he said ‘you’re the hottest chick I’ve ever seen—’ then you know what he did, Markie?”

Mark doesn’t respond; you’re not even sure if he can, considering his Adam’s apple is bobbing dangerously like he’s one misstep away from exploding. You laugh again, stupidly, because you don’t know what else to do; you know Donghyuck’s teasing him, and you know Mark usually takes it in stride, but you’ve also never seen the latter look so focused on anything that didn’t involve a math problem or eating you out. “No, really, nothing hap—”

You don’t even have the space to finish your sentence. Donghyuck’s too quick when he grabs your face and plants a comedically sloppy kiss on your cheek, bursting out in laughter when he pulls away. You can only sit there, probably as stunned as Mark looks, raising your hand slowly to wipe the spittle Donghyuck left behind in his wake.

“Oh, Jesus,” Donghyuck rasps out between snorts. “Your face is priceless, man.”

“Not funny,” Mark grumbles, and there’s a hoarseness to his voice that makes you feel like it’s barely controlled.

“Also not true. I just bumped into her on the way from the library. We were talking about one of her classes or whatever.” Donghyuck dramatically wipes the tears from his eyes, and you sigh, nudging him. “Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t resist. Man, don’t even worry. She’s downright crazy about you. Even if Jung Jaehyun had asked her out—”

“Anyway.” Mark reaches down, lacing your fingers together, pulling you up and closer to his side like he’s worried you’ll catch Donghyuck’s crazy. “If that’s all of it…”

“Yeah, yeah. You two lovebirds go moon over each other already. I just love seeing your face like that.”

Mark snorts, yanking on Donghyuck’s earlobe punitively, and the latter cries out sharply (and a little exaggeratedly) at the pain. Mark doesn’t even seem to care; he leads you to the elevator and punches in his floor. You barely have time to call out a belated ‘bye’ to Donghyuck, who acknowledges it with a raise of his palm, before the doors slide shut.

It’s a slow elevator, given that it’s an old building, and the first couple of floors pass without much noise between the two of you. You’re not unaware of how tight Mark’s grip is on your hand, but you don’t comment nor take it against him. By the fourth floor, you’re raising his hand up to your lips and pressing a kiss against his knuckles.

“Nothing happened.” You confirm his unasked question, and you see a modicum of tension leave his shoulders. “He was just messing with you because he thinks it’s funny.”

“Yeah, I know.” Even if he says it like that, there’s still lingering doubt in his voice. “Were you with Jung Jaehyun today, though? Is that why you didn’t show up?”

You nod. “He was copying my notes for Anthropology. Guy barely shows up to lectures, so he borrows my stuff. I can’t believe he hasn’t been suspended yet. Or punched in the face by the people he leeches off of.”

“No kidding.”

You step out on the sixth floor with him. Even if you already know where Mark’s dorm is, you let him lead the way, and he ushers you into an empty and dimly lit living space while taking his shoes off. His roommate barely seems to be around; you’ve seen him all of two times, and it doesn’t look like he’s here either right now. You pause anyway, listening to any signs of life just to be sure, but when you both confirm that there’s no one but the two of you, you busy yourselves with turning on the lights and plugging in the water dispenser.

You work in relative silence; it isn’t anything unusual since you’ve done this a million times, and you’ve come to learn that small talk isn’t necessary when you’re just washing your hands or opening the refrigerator aimlessly even if you know you both plan on ordering in. But there’s a weird aura around Mark that you’re not sure how to place; he doesn’t seem like he’s mad, but there definitely seems to be something off — a problem, at least, that you’re not sure you know how to ask about.

So you just try to diffuse whatever it is by completely ignoring it.

“Pizza or Chinese?” You ask, flopping onto the couch as he plugs the television into the outlet. He looks up at you, and you notice his eyes are slightly dazed, like you’ve just woken him up from a dream. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice is hoarse the first time he says it, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, sorry.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“We just had pizza, so I’m thinking Chinese is the better option. Cream shrimp? Fried rice? Not the salted fish one, though, maybe.”

You hum in assent, but when he straightens up from behind the television, you extend your arm to him, attempting to clarify yourself. “I mean, what are you thinking so hard about?”

“Nothing.” His answer’s a little too quick. A moment of awkward silence passes where you telepathically tell him you know he’s lying and he has to come to terms with his horrible lying skills, and he sighs, crossing over to the couch and settling beside you. Immediately, he tangles your fingers together, belatedly returning the favor from the elevator and brushing his lips across your knuckles. “He didn’t ask you out, right?”

You know he knows the truth, so you decide to bat your own question back at him in an attempt at rhetoric. “What would it matter if he did? The answer would have been the same, real or imagined.”

Mark pinches the bridge of his nose, inhaling slowly. There’s a red flush on his neck that’s only started fading, it seems. You reach out and skim your finger along the vein that runs down the side of his throat. “I know. I don’t like it all the same. I hate… even thinking about it, actually.”

“Really — nothing happened. If you don’t count the fact that I almost strangled him for keeping me there — which I’m sure you’d agree doesn’t count as anything in favor of him.”

“I heard Jung Jaehyun’s kind of a playboy.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.” His head lolls to the side, and his eyes hold a sadness that pulls at your heart. “It means he really could have made a pass at you. Or you could have — I don’t know. In the end… I just worry.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Your lower lip juts out, and his eyes widen slightly, his head shaking before his mouth can even work out a proper response.

“No — I mean, yes, absolutely. It’s — I mean, it’s just—” He inhales again to gather his wits, two fingers still rubbing his forehead. “I trust you, without a doubt. I don’t trust other people �� not around you. Not Jaehyun, or Youngho, or—”

“Or Donghyuck?” You smile a little apologetically at his embarrassment, clear on his face when his eyes stray from yours. “Mark, you know he’s only messing with you, right? I thought it was a funny thing for you guys.”

“It’s not funny if it’s about you,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you. He looks up at you again, chewing on his bottom lip. “I know. I’m trying to control it. Sometimes… I don’t know why it gets under my skin. I guess it’s because it could happen — you… finding someone else. I kind of hate the thought of that.”

“And if I said I hate it even more than you?”

His gaze softens, something like relief passing over his features, but the rest of his body still holds a significant amount of tension; you know by the way he’s running agitated circles on the back of your hand. You gently tug on his arm, allowing yourself to use it as an anchor to shift your weight. Mark makes a soft noise of inquiry but says nothing more, waiting until you’ve maneuvered your body to settle on his lap.

The view is reminiscent, and you can see that the core memory you share flashes through his mind too. A small smile, still somewhat reluctant, plays on Mark’s lips, and you hate that it’s all you get right now, so you rectify this by leaning down and leaving a small, chaste kiss on them. You pull away much too soon, and his head follows in response to the distance, chasing your lips until you’re realistically too far to reach. His arm extends instead, swiftly tucking your hair behind your ear.

Your fingers close around his wrist, and your head turns, continuing the kiss against his palm — short and firm.

“Stop doing that.”

His eyebrows fly upward in questioning, his other hand freezing in its trail up your thighs. Even his breath seems to catch, and what’s left of it comes out as a raspy whisper. “Stop being jealous? I’m… I’m trying.”

You shake your head. “Stop being sexy when you’re jealous.”

The ‘what’ he seems to want to ask dies in his throat, his mouth only able to form half of the word before you interrupt, your lips taking in the rest of the syllable. When you kiss him this time, there’s a slow hunger to it; your teeth find his lower lip even before he’s able to get into the rhythm of kissing you back. You just want him to know — everything about him drives you wild, even when he doesn’t know it.

You’ll never grow sick of the taste of him, you’re sure; today, he tastes even more enticing, the hint of something rich mixing in with the stronger flavor of coffee on his tongue. It’s familiar and comforting, and it’s only when you break away, both your faces flushed from a prolonged lack of air, that you puzzle out what the taste is — the lingering aftermath of a vanilla sweet cream cold brew, one he must have prepared in anticipation of you this afternoon.

You briefly squeeze your eyes shut and thank whoever’s listening for the gift of Mark Lee.

“Mark,” your murmur, your voice much softer, intent on coaxing him into releasing his worries. “You know, right?”

His ‘hm’ is only half-there in focus, the rest of his attention on his hands, which have found their way to your ass and have started digging his fingers into the flesh beyond your jeans. You have to tilt his head up with one finger under his chin, and there’s a whirlpool of emotion in them: curiosity, desire, and, interestingly, a quiet, almost suppressed kind of anger.

“If it isn’t you,” you whisper. “Then there’s nobody else.”

You see his jaw tighten, feel his grip against you do the same, and his brow furrows, like he’s trying — much too hard, and for no good reason — to stop himself from tipping over. You don’t like that either; if he’s there, you think, you should take him over the edge.

“But if you want them to know so badly, then…” You tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck, bringing the expanse just a little closer to his mouth. “Why don’t you go ahead and put your claim on me?”

You swear you see his pupils dilate right before he presses his mouth to your skin. With a low, almost pained groan against your neck, he latches his teeth in lightly, and you feel the soft sting, the increase in pressure the moment he starts sucking a mark just above your collarbone. There’s a wet, messy pattern to his movements, always punctuated by the sweep of his tongue to soothe your flesh. Even with that, his movements are slow and careful, still gentle in the way he’s handling you, but you feel it anyway — all of his tension’s concentrated in his grip, the way he keeps you close, hips pinned against him as if he’s worried anything less will cause you to disappear.

“Every time you worry, remember you can do this.” You pause, your breath catching in a lilt as his teeth dig in a little more fiercely. “You’re the only one that can.”

His lips detach with a soft groan, fingers squeezing your ass tight for a moment. Warm breath cools against the damp patch on your neck, and a second later, you feel his mouth graze against the few inches of skin, sensitive and slightly raw. “I know. It’s just not fair.”

You hum in questioning, but he doesn’t answer immediately; his mouth busies itself just under the mark he’d surely left, already starting up the same routine. You’d let him, and you want him to, but you want to hear his voice more. Your fingers tangle into his hair, and you use that hold to ease his head back, urging him to look up at you. It’s almost a mistake, seeing him like that — lips slightly swollen and definitely slick with his own saliva, parted just a little to reveal teeth he’d been desperate to nip your flesh with again. It crosses your mind that Mark has a mouth made for kissing — no, that isn’t accurate.

A mouth made for you to kiss.

“What’s not fair?” You ask softly. Even now, he takes his time in answering, his eyes falling close for a second; you watch him swallow, lick his lips, breathe in before he speaks, and all of those mundane things he does somehow make you lose your mind all the more.

“How badly I keep wanting you,” he breathes out, his eyes slowly opening. “And how it makes me think everyone wants you just as much.”

His hands leave the curve of your ass, traveling up your shirt, resting against your sides. He holds you like he’s careful in trying not to break you, his fingers spread wide to make sure his thumbs almost meet against your stomach, but there’s a smoldering headiness in his gaze that tells you he’s thinking a little too hard about wanting to break you.

“I touch you like this, and I think that everyone would kill to do the same.” His fingers squeeze against your flesh, inching upwards until they rest just under your breasts; his thumbs stroke the curved underline of your bra. “I think about kissing you and it feels like everyone’s thinking it at the exact same time. I look at someone next to you, even if you don’t know them, and I wonder if they want to pull you close, if they want to feel you against them just as much as I do. When I—”

He inhales sharply between his words, and the exhale comes out somewhat shaky. For a moment, he grits his teeth, jaw flexing in an attempt to keep himself in check. You worry he doesn’t want to continue — doesn’t want to let you hear it, but it feels so important that you can’t let it go. “Tell me.”

“When I think about fucking you,” he breathes out, voice barely audible. “Whenever I look at you and think about how much I want to feel you around me, feel you cum around me… I just know everyone else wants the same thing, and it’s driving me crazy because… because they can’t.”

It’s there again, flashing in his eyes — a determination that reads almost like fury.

“They can’t,” he repeats, his voice firmer. “I won’t ever let them. Never.”

You don’t stop him this time when his mouth reclaims your skin. You let his thoughts fuel the need in his movements, allow yourself to move only in reaction to what he does — the tilting of your head to give him more room, the tightening of your fists against his shirt to keep yourself steady. A surprised mewl leaves you when you feel his teeth pinch against your flesh again, and it’s harder, sharper this time, his quiet anger finally dictating his strength. You grapple for words, but they come out in weak gasps.

“It doesn’t — doesn’t matter,” you manage to whimper out. “How many people think that way, how much they want me that way. I only ever want you.”

His breathing is caught, warm, in the pocket of space just between you and his mouth; it tingles against your skin, tickles your senses into heightening. Your fingers unfurl, pressing against his chest, and you can feel his quickened heartbeat thrumming under your palm.

“God, please,” he murmurs, the soft peck of a kiss landing against your collarbone. “Please, tell me.”

“Mark, I’m yours.” There’s no teasing in how you say it; it was never meant to rile him up. It even escapes sweetness, the romanticism it usually comes with when you remind him on any other occasion. This is a promise to him, something you’re reinforcing as fact, something that can’t ever change. “I’m always going to be yours — no one else’s. I’ll never let anyone have anything that’s yours. Ask anything, take everything you want. I’ll never say no to you. Only you — always you.”

You know something’s different in a number of ways; his arms circle around you, but instead of keeping you firm and stable in his lap, they’re tight, squeezing a whine out of you, holding your torso flush against his. His face never leaves the crook of your neck, but you hear — feel — something there — a soft growl of need, of frustration that begs release. Suddenly, you find yourself off the couch; you barely have the presence of mind to wrap your arms around his neck and tighten your thighs against his sides before he’s carrying you to his room, kicking the door open and letting the rebound of the impact against his wall slam it shut behind him.

You’ve been in Mark’s room before, so there’s absolutely no need for you to take in the scenery when he sets you down on his bed. It doesn’t matter anyway, even if this were your first time; Mark’s crawling over you, his face flush and eyes sharp with hunger, and he looks so enticing that you wouldn’t want to pay attention to anything else around you anyway. His limbs cage you in, arms on either side of your shoulders and his knees just by your thighs, and you don’t really know why he’s already panting, but it just makes you want him all the more.

“Never,” he groans out, leaning down to nose against the patch of skin his mouth had worked on. “I’m never going to let anyone take you, ever. You’re all mine.”

His name fades on your lips, carried away by a moan when his mouth reattaches itself to your neck; it moves, almost frenzied, to renew the mark he’d left, make it a deeper red, a slightly bruised purple. You’re usually careful not to do anything that will require any attention or cover-up after, but Mark seems a little too far gone to care, and you realize you like him best this way.

Even with all the attention he gives your neck, his fingers are busy; they work on the button of your jeans, sliding them down with the help you offer by raising your hips. They only reach halfway down your thighs, his reluctance to come back up for air stopping him from peeling them off completely, but it’s all he seems to need for now.

Eager fingers ease between your thighs, two at once, pressing against your folds. You’re unable to spread your legs like you usually do, but this tightness makes you all the more sensitive, and you keen as his digits fit themselves into your slit. Frustratingly, they don’t move right away, and you have to raise your hips again just to get some sort of friction. Even then, Mark doesn’t take the hint — or, perhaps, the bait — keeping a light pressure against your clit without doing anything else. His focus is still on your neck, now slightly aching under his lips, and when he finally pulls away, you see a look of triumph on his face. He tilts his head back slightly to admire his work — the blooming dark patch you’re sure he’s left where your skin tingles the most.

“If I said I wanted to mark you all over, would you let me?”

“What makes you think I wouldn’t ask for it?”

He chuckles, tightening the pressure of his fingers against your clit; you say something that sounds halfway between ‘Mark’ and a sob.

“I want to, so badly.” He admits, gaze still fixed on your neck. “I’d want to see you walk out of here, walk into class covered in them. I’d want people to ask you how you got them, and who gave them to you. And I’d want you to say it proudly — that it was me who did it. That I fucked you all night and made you mine over and over again.”

“Why don’t you?” His eyes snap up to you, a small smile forming on his lips. “I want to say that too. Let me brag about having you. Let me tell everyone how good you always make me feel. Then you can tell everyone who doesn’t believe you, too — how I let you take me every single time. Show me off and tell them to look at how you made me yours.”

Another laugh escapes him, but there’s more disbelief than humor in it; he seems to find it amazing, that you can just agree with what he says, no matter how strange he thinks it is.

“Show you off? If I mark you in other places, do I have to show them every part?”

“Do you not want to?”

“I want to, and I don’t.” He pauses, slightly amused, and you know he’s remembering the first time you fucked. “I don’t them to see your body, but I want them to see what I did to it. I don’t want them to look at what’s mine, but I just want them to know it is.”

“Then you can fuck me in front of everyone and make them watch you ruin me completely.”

He shakes his head, even if desire flashes clear across his features. He busies himself with actions while he mulls it over, tugging your jeans down alongside your panties and casting them aside before he straightens up. His eyes rake over your form; you’re bare from the waist down, your shirt halfway ridden up, the underside of your bra peeking out from under the hem. Again, his eyes land on your neck, and his smile widens slightly.

“Can’t.” He decides finally. “You’re too pretty for that.”

You hum thoughtfully, and he raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t move, even when you sit up, shifting yourself so you can tuck your calves under your thighs — not even when you reach out to undo his belt or tug down his zipper. He only reacts a little when your hand presses against his hardness through his boxers, the girth now easily familiar to your palm.

“What about something like this?” You ask, inching closer to the edge of the bed. You’ve started slow strokes against him, the fabric creating extra friction, more heat under your palm, and you watch his jaw clench as he swallows back a soft grunt. “Would you let them watch me do this for you?”

“Let me think about it,” he chuckles softly, and you nod, letting your fingers work to make your point. You don’t have to undress him completely to get what you want; all you need is to tug down the front of his boxers to free him, and you already have him wrapped in your palms, stroking his shaft to full hardness.

“Think faster,” you urge, and he shakes his head, slightly bemused. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t even want them to watch me jerk you off?”

“At least give me a full minute.”

You laugh lightly, whispering a ‘fine’ before you press a soft kiss against tip. He inhales sharp through his teeth, already sensitive, and you waste no time in letting your tongue flick out against the smooth head. He doesn’t need the lubrication, realistically; his precum’s already leaking from the tip, mixing in with your saliva as you run your tongue around it. All you do is make him a little messier, a little slicker, your spittle running down his length.

Taking Mark in your mouth is a demanding task, but one you’re always up for; there’s something uniquely satisfying about letting him fill your mouth, inch by inch, and watching his breathing hitch and stutter until your lips are closer to the base than to the head. What you can’t reach, your hand always squeezes around, eager to make sure he feels good completely. His expression is sublime when you draw your head back the first time, sucking as you do so — his eyes are half-lidded, and he doesn’t stop the moan that falls from his lips. His gaze is fixed on you, hazy but still able to drink the sight of you in, and you’re not sure how, but you almost feel like you could get off to watching him watch you taste him.

You try, somehow, vaguely conscious of the movement of your hips; you’re grinding at nothing at first, so your knees give way just enough for you to press yourself against his sheets. It’s slightly uncomfortable, a strain in your thighs that you’re not really used to, but you don’t care; Mark’s sharp inhale at seeing you attempt to grind your pussy against his mattress is pretty much as arousing as anything else. His cock twitches hard in your mouth, and you suck just a little harder, a little messier, your head bobbing down to meet your hand, still firmly wrapped around his girth.

The room’s filled with nothing but slick sounds and soft groans; Mark’s hand has found its way into your hair, tangled into a makeshift ponytail, and while he isn’t guiding your mouth to do anything, you can feel his hips stutter then start to move, pulling back when your head does. He tries to hide it, tries to keep himself steady, but pride blooms in your chest when you note that he can’t; he wants to feel like he’s fucking into your mouth, into your hand, the way he does when he takes your pussy.

It’s relatively quiet for that time, nothing but muffled moans from you that mix in with his noises, but you only realize you’d been waiting for an answer to something when he speaks up again.

“It’s… still a no for me.”

Your movements slow, your gaze lifting to communicate your mild confusion to him. You don’t want to ask; you just don’t want to lose the taste of him on your tongue just yet. He looks down at you, smiling with overflowing tenderness, almost like he’s apologetic.

“Even just this — you’re too pretty when you do it.” His hand reaches down, thumb stroking over your cheek. “I can’t let anyone see what you look like when you’re like this. They’ll keep thinking about you doing it for them. And you’d only do it for me — right?”

You nod immediately, your response causing your mouth to slip down his shaft just a little more. It elicits a guttural noise from him, one that fuels you into sucking him just a little harder, your enthusiasm overtaking your restraint. His fingers have let go of your hair, stroking it back into smoothness, almost comforting in their movements.

“God, I wish you could see yourself; you’d know what I mean,” he continues to murmur, his voice just a little louder over the eager, wet noises you’re making. “How pretty you look with your mouth wrapped around me. How perfect you are when you’re kneeling like this for me — how happy you look when you’re sucking me off. I can’t share that with anyone. Fuck — not ever.”

Your mouth draws back, completely this time, and your tongue presses against the underside of his cock. You lick a long stripe up his shaft, moaning softly at the light throb you feel, and you watch him tip his head back. The groan that follows soon after is almost close to a frustrated growl, ending in a whispered ‘shit’ before his eyes land back on you. He watches you press kiss after kiss against his tip, coaxing the precum out even more, and you take special care to leave more down each inch of his cock until you’re finally able to release your hold on his base so you can leave the last one there.

His hand combs your hair back before it falls to cup your chin, his thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth to gently clean up the froth of spittle there. You smile up at him in thanks, and his thumb sweeps over the seam of your lips to follow the slight curve.

“So pretty,” he repeats, and your cheeks glow pink under the palms that caress them. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Pretty as hell, fucking perfect — and you’re all mine.”

You kneel up again, chasing his lips with your own, and he locks you in his arms as his tongue slips its way past your teeth, the aroma of coffee still on it. He leaves today’s taste of him against your tongue, on the ridges of your teeth, until you feel like you’ve all but consumed him, and you whimper softly when he pulls away, urging you to turn around and lean back into his chest.

His mouth reattaches itself to the same spot; it’s like a home base for him, and he breathes in your scent from there before giving the same patch of skin a light suck, almost as if he’s worried it’ll fade in a few minutes’ time if he doesn’t give it attention.

“Show me.” Hands slide down to your hips, squeezing them lightly, like a prompt for your response. “Show me how pretty you are for me.”

His palms never leave you, not even when you detach yourself from his chest and bend down; your elbows meet the mattress, but your hips stay raised, giving him a view of your pussy. Your gasp easily turns into a moan when his digit dips into your wetness again, his other hand pushing gently at your asscheek to keep you open.

You think he’s about to slip his finger in, the tip brushing against your entrance, and you tense in anticipation, but it doesn’t happen; he continues to run his finger down your slit, careful not to linger against your clit for too long. The result is that you tighten around nothing, and you hear him suck in a breath as he watches your hole grow smaller for a second. You laugh breathily, resting your chin against the backs of your hands, one folded atop the other. “Pretty enough for you to fuck?”

“Do you have to ask if you already know?”

“I want to hear it anyway.”

His finger slips into your hole, finally, and you keen softly as he breaches the first ring of tightness. He doesn’t really move it, just tests your tightness, feels you contract around him as if to know what his cock will feel in a few moments.

“Your pussy’s too pretty not to fuck,” he manages out, and his throat sounds as tight as you feel. “Seeing it like this… makes me think there’s no way anyone can resist. It’s exactly why I can’t let anyone see you like this.”

You hum as his finger presses in deeper, and you know it’s nothing in comparison to the real thing, but you like feeling that mild stretch, the depth it reaches all the same. “How should we let them know, then? That I’m all yours.”

His finger stills, and you hum softly, swaying your hips to shake him out of whatever trance he’s in. He’s grown quiet, but there’s a thoughtfulness in this pause, like he’s seriously considering your question. You laugh lightly, ready to tell him you’re just egging him on until he fucks you, but he slips his finger out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing again. You can’t help the confused noise that comes out of you, but you at least know he isn’t completely backing away, his other hand still firmly on your ass.

“Mark, what—”

You get your answer in the thud that interrupts your question — he’s tossed his phone onto the bed, having it land next to you. Something in your blood runs hot, and your fingers tremble when you pick it up. You see yourself reflected in the blackened screen — excitement in your eyes, your lips glossy from your blowjob.

Mark’s silent as you let the meaning of his actions settle; wordlessly, he slips his finger into you again, followed by another one this time, and you shudder in pleasure at the difference in the stretch. He doesn’t ask, but you can tell he’s wondering if he’s gone too far— if you think he’s crazy. He lets his fingers stay anchored in you, unmoving, waiting for you to say something, but from where he is, he just can’t know the smile that passes your face.

Finally, he tries to speak up. “We don’t have to— I just meant—”

“What’s your passcode?”

He breathes out, the exhale quivering as much as you probably are. “Your birthday.”

Your smile only widens when you tap the screen to life and see a picture of you — you don’t even remember when he’d taken it, but it’s a shot of you sprawled on his bed, bundled in his blanket and reading something that looks oddly like your textbook for your European Renaissance History class. It’s grainy and dimly lit, a stolen photograph of you, but it makes your heart swell, and you laugh lightly as you key in your birthday; the screen unlocks, allowing you access to all his applications.

“What’s funny?”

“Just thinking about how you should replace this wallpaper.”

“To what?” He sounds bemused.

“The view of me you have now.”

His fingers curl in you, pressing down against your walls, and you push your hips back in a bid for more friction; you hear him hiss out a ‘fuck’ under his breath, and his hand digs harder into the flesh of your ass.

You open Mark’s contacts, scrolling down aimlessly. Most of the names, you don’t recognize, but you see a few familiar ones crop up here and there. He doesn’t ask, only starts pumping his fingers into you in quiet anticipation, wondering how far you’re willing to take it, how much you’ve bought into this crazy idea.

“Mark,” you call out, and he hums in response. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“With my life.”

“So if I called Donghyuck right now—” His fingers hook into you, the delicious pressure on your walls making you squeak instead of finish your sentence immediately. You twist your torso to meet his eyes, and you’re slightly surprised but not at all displeased to see something crazed lingering in his gaze. “How much of a show would you want to put on for him?”

He shifts his weight, his knee sinking into the mattress as he slots it between your legs. This change in position allows him to angle his fingers a little differently, driving down into you with a force that makes you squirm. You almost forget you’ve asked him something again until he leans in closer, his murmur almost drowned out by the slick sounds of his finger pressing into your hole.

“Just… enough for him to know you’ve always been mine.”

Your thumbs are shaking when you scroll through his contacts again, up and down until you find the right name — Lee Donghyuck — and Mark watches you intently, wordlessly, as you press his number, start the call, and put it on speaker.

The wait feels like an eternity, with Mark’s finger slipping in and out of you in a steady, languid pace as you watch the line connect, but in reality, Donghyuck really only answers after the fourth ring. “Yo, Mark.”

His voice is casual, lacking in any sort of expectation; you can hear explosions and gunshots in the background, and you’re willing to bet he’s in the middle of an action movie. You’re proven right when you hear random English babbling soon after.

“Hi, Hyuck.”

“___________?” He sounds genuinely confused that it’s you that greets him. “Where’s Mark? You okay?”

“He’s right here with me; don’t worry.” Your voice is a soft croon, and he has to lower the volume of the television to be able to hear you better. “We’re totally fine. What are you up to?”

“Watching Resident Evil. Uh, is there a reason you called?”

You want to draw out the lie of something casual for as long as you can, but Mark doesn’t let you. His fingers push, suddenly forceful, into you, and you let out a soft cry into the receiver. You look back at him, eyes wide with amusement, and he shrugs, having at least enough sense to look slightly abashed at his experiment.

One moment, you’re listening to a female voice shout something, and the next, Donghyuck’s side of the call is silent except for his breathing. When you don’t bother explaining what had just happened, he takes matters into his own hands.

“Hello?”

He sounds equal parts affronted and amused, like the shock of it has tickled him. You can’t help it; you laugh too, but it’s quickly cut off by another whine when Mark pulls his fingers out. Donghyuck makes an incredulous noise.

“Now, what the fuck is all this about, you freaks?”

“You kept wondering why I ended up asking Mark out,” you evade his question with another one. “Should I tell you why, if you’re that curious?”

“No way. Have fun, weirdos,” he laughs, and the line goes dead a second after.

You snort out a laugh, and Mark mumbles something that sounds vaguely like that was crazy before he leans down and presses a kiss to the small of your back. You make to turn so you can finally face him, but you’re distracted when his phone screen lights up again, and Donghyuck’s name flashes across it.

You exchange amused glances before you pick up the call, and you don’t even get a ‘hello’ out when his voice rings out, sharp and clear.

“But pretending I am,” he says, as though he hadn’t hung up the call a few seconds ago. “Exactly what kind of answer would I get?”

“The kind that’ll hopefully shut you up for good,” Mark pipes in instead of you.

“What’s that even going to sound like?” Already, Donghyuck’s activated whatever toggle in him that gets him to push Mark’s buttons. This time, though, you can’t say it works against you; you feel Mark inch closer to you, and a moment later, the fat tip of his cock nudges against your entrance. “I bet you can’t even get her to yawn, man.”

Mark doesn’t have to respond; you do it for him when he pushes in, torturously slow, as if to draw out your moan. It works a little too well, with you keening into the phone, and yet no part of you is acting for his sake. As familiar as the stretch is, it’s not something you’ve ever been able to commit to memory fully, and it feels like a new breaching of your tightness each time. Your legs fold in slightly, a useless movement that attempts to get you adjusted to his size faster, but Mark interprets it as discomfort, his hands tightening on your hips.

“You okay?” He sounds genuinely worried for a second, forgetting that Donghyuck’s still on the line. Your cheek brushes against his sheets as you nod, trying to meet his eye even in this position to let him know you’re being honest.

“Fucking big, Mark.” You hear Donghyuck tsk from his end, and you laugh breathlessly. “You don’t like knowing he’s big?”

“I just hate that fucker,” Donghyuck quips back easily, but there’s no seriousness in his voice. If anything, it sounds a little raspy, with him clearing his throat soon afterward.

“Well, I’m crazy about him,” you whisper into the call, and your breathing hitches as Mark finally bottoms out, groaning at your tightness. “I’m crazy about the way he touches me, the way he tastes. I’m crazy about how big his cock is, how deep it gets when he’s inside me, how he stretches me out — fuck—”

Your verbal rampage is cut short by a loud moan as Mark draws his hips back and pushes forcefully into you; you haven’t fully adjusted, and you’re even tighter now from what you’re saying, so the friction inside you is nothing short of delicious. He starts a pattern of thrusts, not bothering to build up from his usual slow and steady pace — hearing you talk that way and knowing that Donghyuck is listening is enough to get him to abandon self-imposed restrictions.

“Mark,” you whine out, accidentally pushing the phone a little further away as you reach out blindly for him behind you, and he catches your wrist to let you know he’s there. “Mark, fuck, it feels so good—”

You tighten around him as if to prove your words, and he growls in response. You find yourself having to press your cheek in a little harder into the mattress as he gathers your wrists together into one hand, pinning them to your lower back, and it’s with that hold on you that he leverages his thrusts, pumping into you a little harder each time.

You’re not completely unaware of your surroundings, but it takes a while for you to process the sounds coming from the phone’s speaker — labored breathing, the sound of a zipper being pulled down. You want to wonder if this is working a little too well, but nothing comes from your mouth apart from soft whimpers, and it’s all the cue Mark needs to be the one to fill in the relative silence himself.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers, and you feel his lips press between your shoulder blades. It feels like a chaste kiss at first, but he leaves his breath there, still flitting over your skin as he continues to speak. “I’ll never get tired of how pretty you are — how pretty you always sound for me. Doesn’t she sound pretty, Hyuck?”

“Fucking pretty,” Donghyuck agrees, though his voice sounds somewhat distant. You can only sob back a quiet ‘fuck me, harder, harder,’ in response.

“Can you imagine how much prettier she looks under me?” It’s almost a full-blown conversation now, but even if Mark’s addressing Donghyuck, the rest of his attention’s fully on you. He adjusts his stance, still keeping his hold around your wrists as he angles himself deeper into you, causing you to cry out and squirm in pleasure. With your face pressed against the bed and his weight driving down into you, you feel utterly trapped, in the best kind of way. Mark, in the way he is now, is inescapable, almost incorrigible, and he pistons deeper into your pussy, his free hand brushing your hair away from your shoulder so he can leave a kiss against it. “Bent over, legs spread just a little, all for me to take. Pretty little hole wet for me, and so fucking tight. Can you imagine that?”

“I’m doing it right now.”

“It’s a thousand times better in person. Trust me.”

The same hand slips between your thighs, two fingers spreading your folds apart; the middle one circles your clit in a pace that matches his thrusts, sudden and shocking, and you arch your back upwards slightly with a choked noise. He finally releases your wrists, and you claw at the sheets helplessly to keep yourself somehow upright as the force of Mark’s hips, their impact against the backs of your thighs, pushes you forward, closer to the phone again. The stimulation is merciless, endless, and in the haze of your pleasure, you wonder if you should make Mark a little more jealous everyday if it gets him to act this way.

“Mark, I…. I’ve been— s-since—”

“Not yet,” he whispers, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as if to bring you back to reality. You shudder at the pain, the pleasure that accompanies it, and when you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, you notice that a few tears escape your eyes. “Hold out for me a bit, okay? Please. It’s not enough. Not yet enough.”

You wonder if ‘enough’ is a concept the both of you even understand when it comes to wanting each other; already, you feel desire pooling in your stomach, threatening to spill from you, and clenching around him isn’t helping you stop it the way your body seems to think it’s supposed to. It also doesn’t help that Mark’s fingers are relentless, one still drawing tight, heavy circles around your clit, and the other creeping up under your shirt to tug down the cup of your bra, letting a breast spill into his warm palm. He kneads with an unusual — but not unpleasant — roughness, and you squeak out incoherently as he tweaks at the hardened bud of your nipple, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Hold on for me a little,” he continues murmuring, even after you shake your head and whisper ‘can’t’ to him over and over. “Do it for me. Tell Donghyuck — tell him how good it feels. How much you want to keep feeling me inside you.”

You don’t even know what to say; the pleasure that washes over you, the new kind of roughness that Mark exhibits has you drawing a blank, and you can only whine in a last attempt at protest, only for your tongue to start moving on autopilot, fueled by your want.

“It’s not enough,” you echo — and even if it feels like it is, even if it feels even more than you can possibly handle, something tells you that it’s true. “Not enough — need to feel you more, Mark. God, I want to feel you stretch me out, fuck my little hole into the shape of your cock— until no one else can fuck me but you—”

“What,” Donghyuck breathes out, his exhale coming across as static. “The fuck.”

You don’t have to explain; your babbling’s doing most of the work in that regard anyway, and you can tell by the wet, staccato noises on the other end that Donghyuck can easily piece together the scenario anyway. He’s jacking off to the both of you, something in your mind whispers, and the notion of that alone has you tightening around Mark’s cock. The change doesn’t go unnoticed, and his fingers sink deeper into your flesh; you cry out softly when you feel a jolt of pleasure as he gives your clit a sudden pinch.

“How much tighter can you get?” He sounds incredulous but also, interestingly, proud — there’s a smug tinge to his voice that arouses you even more. “Does it feel that good?”

“Fuck, yes,” you breathe out, the syllables quivering in your throat. “So good I’m going to lose my mind. Let me — God, please, let me—”

“Not yet,” Mark mumbles, and you whimper as he slows and slips out of you, his hand gently rubbing your folds in what feels like comfort — a small apology for his overt enthusiasm that you don’t even really need. “Just a little more. I need to see it.”

“See what?” Donghyuck’s voice is barely above a whisper, hoarse and pretty much muffled by the sound of his hand pumping his own shaft. Your head’s light, so your body moves on its own when Mark inches away slightly, giving you room to turn yourself around and lay on your back. You’ve barely even settled when he lifts your hips, dragging you closer to him and easing your thighs apart to slot himself between your legs.

His cock weighs heavy, pressed up against your folds, and he pushes his hips in a superficial thrust to get them to spread. His eyes fall briefly on your swollen clit, the wetness that you left on his shaft, even more of it still leaking from your hole. When he looks back up at you, there’s something triumphant in his gaze.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he coos, so lovingly it’d be hard to imagine his cock still sliding against your folds if you couldn’t feel it yourself. “I’ll never get enough of your perfect pussy — so perfect that it was made to take me.”

“See what?” Donghyuck presses, an impatience now coloring his voice. Mark chuckles, nodding at you and mouthing silently. Tell him.

Your inhale’s shaky, quivering like the rest of your body, and you don’t ever break away from Mark’s gaze, even as you speak.

“His cock fucking me in my stomach.”

Donghyuck’s ‘Jesus fucking Christ’ is drowned out by your cry of need as Mark pushes back into you. There’s no lag time now, no wait for any kind of adjustment; he takes you in one motion, until you feel his hips hit the backs of your thighs again. Your walls flutter around him, unable to process his size fully, and all that comes out of you is a string of messy mewls that’s constantly interrupted by the wet sounds of his thrusts.

Your body feels almost weightless, the only thing you can understand being the feeling of his cock pumping into you, stretching you out further. You’re only able to shake yourself out of the reverie when you feel his hands push back against your thighs, folding you in half, before they crowd atop your stomach.

“God, I need to feel it,” he groans out, his palms skimming under your navel, searching. “Please — do it for me.”

Even with your brain muddled, you don’t even have to try to figure it out; you let him feel it every time he asks. You inhale, deep and slow, until your stomach sinks, and the walls of your stomach flatten against his cock, which pauses briefly in its movements as he revels in the newfound feeling.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, and you flush in pleasure, in satisfaction at his praise. “Love seeing my cock inside you.”

He adjusts himself before he starts pumping into you again, burying his shaft all the way to the hilt each time; each thrust is followed by a soft sob from you, and you reach out, planting your hands on top of his. You obviously can’t feel his cock under your palms, but you don’t have to anyway; the fit’s tight enough that it feels, ridiculously, like he’s fucking your whole body, like he’s pressing into the deepest part of your core. You just want him to feel it more — the movement of the bulge under his hands, the resistance it has to push through to get to your stomach.

“Love feeling me inside you,” he continues, and his breathing stutters then, signaling that he’s also barely hanging on. “Love seeing how pretty you look when I rearrange your insides.”

You mouth out a disbelieving ‘what the fuck’ that earns you a simple smile, but Mark’s unrelenting in his movements anyway, his palms completely covering your stomach.

“Dude, I wanna see it too,” Donghyuck reminds you both of his presence when his voice comes through the speaker. “Put her on video.”

“No way,” comes Mark’s swift, firm reply. Donghyuck makes a noise of protest. “This is just for me.”

“Selfish as hell, calling me without really sharing.”

“The point wasn’t really ever to share.”

Mark’s hands suddenly press down on your stomach, and you stifle a soft scream; the pressure increases tenfold, as does the tightness of the fit, his cock brushing against your walls in a way that makes you feel breathless — it makes you feel used. Your hands fly up, fingers locking behind his neck, and you squirm under him, knowing fully well that you can’t escape anyway — not that you really want to, anyway.

“Mark,” you warn him again, your voice thin and airy. “I can’t anymore — I really—”

“I got you,” he murmurs — something you’ve come to learn he always says, always wants to let you know. He’ll be here until you break, until you can’t take anymore. “One second, okay?”

“Bro, what? Are you serious—” Even Donghyuck sounds confused, although his voice is tight too; he must be close, your mind weakly registers, but it doesn’t matter. Mark, albeit reluctantly, slips one hand away from your stomach — for a good cause, he must think, and you learn what it is when he ends the call, effectively cutting off Donghyuck’s complaints. Your eyes widen in confusion, but all Mark’s gaze is to you is reassuring, gentle, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips before he answers your unspoken question.

“Can’t let him hear you cum,” he murmurs against your mouth. “That’s only for me, isn’t it?”

You nod, letting the movement of it brush your lips against his. “You’re the only one I’ll cum for — the only one that can make me.”

Above your head, his phone is trilling noisily; the vibrations course through your back, weak but persistent, and for some reason, it heightens your arousal all the more. Mark ignores it completely, single-mindedly focused on pistoning into you with the bulk of his strength. His hands push down just under your navel, increasing your awareness of the feeling of his cock, him fucking you, coaxing out your climax.

“Do it. Show me how pretty you look when you cum for me.”

You don’t think it’s possible for him to inject any more strength into his movements, but he proves you wrong time and time again; the wind’s knocked out of you as he braces himself and fucks you harder, sharper into the bed, and the only noises you can make are weak whimpers and choked sobs. Your mind’s so overrun with pleasure that your climax hits your body first before your mind fully parses it; your back arches again, and you mewl out something broken, something that sounds like his name as you come undone.

Mark still doesn’t relent, the tremble in your legs somehow only inspiring him to put more power in his thrusts. Even through the dazedness that comes with all the stimulation, you can see the fine details you’ve come to know so well — the tightness in his jaw, the growing flush across his collar, the quick heaving of his chest. He’s close too, so close he’s just holding himself back out of sheer force of will to make sure he can watch you come down from your climax completely. You don’t know why he has to, but you want to see him let go too, and you scramble for words, for more touch — pressing your thighs firm against his sides to keep him close, locked — just to get him there.

“Will you mark me up one last time?” You breathe out. He reacts almost instantaneously, moving to lean down and press his mouth against the still-untouched side of your neck, but your palm on his chest stops him from doing so. Surprise crosses his face, followed by slight confusion. You squeeze your thighs against him, trying to make your point, but even then, his brow furrows. “Mark me — inside.”

His eyes widen, and his hips stutter before they resume pace, his fingers digging into your stomach almost painfully as he tries to keep himself in control. “I— no, you know I can’t…”

“Do you want to?” You egg him on, your hand dropping from his chest to land on top of his again, adding to the pressure until you’re sure he can feel every small movement, every throb of his own cock inside you. “You can, you know — make me yours, from the inside out.”

“God — we can’t; you know we’d be in so much trouble.”

“But I’d let you anyway, if you wanted to. Do you ever think about it, Mark?” Your fingers toy with his, almost like you’re having a casual conversation instead of a situation in which he’s deep inside you, already aching for release. “Fucking your cum deep into me, letting it seep into my stomach — making sure no one else can fill me up?”

“Jesus,” he growls, and he reluctantly slips his hands out from under yours to grip your thighs. Realistically, he has enough strength to peel them away, have you release him, but his hold just tightens, not really making any motion to do so. You see the thought flash in his eyes, serious even just for a moment. He thinks about it all the time.

“Think about it,” you urge, your voice soft but close to a demand. “And every time you do, remember one day, you will — because you’re the only one that can.”

He tilts his head back, letting a growl rip from his throat, and he finally manages to push your thighs apart. You let him, let them fall apart so he can slip out of you. You watch him shift upwards, his knees on either side of your torso, and you’re met with the erotic sight of him fisting his cock in front of you, urging himself into completion. You do the only thing you can think of to help; you open your mouth wide, pushing your tongue out, silently asking for his load.

“Even when you do that, you’re fucking pretty,” he groans out, and his thumb presses his cock down, resting the underside flush against your tongue as he rocks his hips. “How much prettier are you going to look with my cum all over your face?”

He doesn’t have to wait long to find out, and you don’t have to respond; he gets the answer he wants with one last thrust against your tongue, and you close your eyes briefly, allowing yourself to drink in the taste, the smell of his cum as it streaks across your cheeks, all over your lips. You hear his release as it comes too — the soft rumble from his chest, the release of air that gently whistles through his teeth.

When you open your eyes again, Mark is looking down at you, a warm flush creeping up his cheeks and ears again; he’s breathless, panting as he comes down from his high. From the daze of his climax, a slightly sheepish look of apology crosses his face, and he reaches down, seemingly without any real plan, to clean you up, only to withdraw, slightly bemused, when you shake your head.

A laugh escapes him when you shimmy out from under him, straighten up, and extend your arms upward, puckering your lips in slight demand. You think he might reject you, but Mark doesn’t even hesitate longer than a second. He swoops down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, and your thighs press together tight as you enjoy the feeling of his tongue swiping away his cum from your bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth, sucking softly as if to clean you completely.

When he pulls away, his head dips into your shoulder; again, his face turns to press against the mark he’d left, and his teeth nip at the soft bruise that’s already begun to blossom. Satisfied by the soft noise you make at the sensitivity you feel from the contact, he breathes out, long and steady, against your skin.

“Just… can’t get enough of you,” he finally exhales, pressing another kiss to your neck; it’s gentler, situated just under your jaw.

“You don’t ever have to think about having enough,” you whisper, leaving a light nuzzle against his shoulder. “Just always think about having more.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, but he nods, accepting your offer anyway. A moment of silence passes, where you’re wrapped up in each other, his weight against you in a blanket of heat, and it stretches to what almost feels like an eternity — if not for the phone suddenly ringing again, Donghyuck’s name coming up on the ID. You both start, and Mark reaches over, fumbling with the sides of his device before he finds and toggles the silent switch.

“Seriously,” he grumbles, watching the call drop just for it to start up again, the screen flashing.

“We kind of left him hanging, to be fair.”

“No fairness.” Mark tosses the phone to the foot of the bed, where it lies, facedown and buzzing. “He got more than he deserved today.”

You watch him as he slips off the bed, rearranging himself before clipping his jeans button back into place. He whispers a gentle ‘be right back’ and exits the room, leaving the door only slightly ajar. You hear the water run in the bathroom, and a few moments later, Mark returns to your side, holding a damp towel.

He leaves a kiss after each light swipe across your face, as if to apologize for the pain he thinks he might be causing; you laugh, partly because it’s ridiculous, but mostly because you like it. He cleans your mouth last, even though there’s already nothing left, just so he has an excuse to leave a long, lasting kiss there.

You think it’s the last you’ll get for now, but he surprises you by bending down even further, hiking your shirt up your torso again. His hand rests on your thigh, keeping himself balanced as he presses a flutter of kisses around your navel, lingering at the exact spot that sits above where he knows his cock hits every time he bottoms out in you.

“One day,” he whispers into your skin before he looks up at you, his eyes shining. “I’ll really make you all mine.”

“Dummy.” Your voice is just as low, and you pull his head up again, enjoying the brush of his hair against your hand, the swoop of his jaw under your palm. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Every single day, considering I’ll never get tired of it.”

You hum, not one to deny him of what he asks anyway; you push him back onto his calves, climbing back onto his lap; it’s your favorite way to be near him, you decide, with almost nothing between you, almost everything of yours touching everything of his — like you fit in him perfectly. You rest your cheek against his shoulder, feeling their soft rise and fall as his breathing steadies, and you squirm a bit, if only to make sure his arms are locked securely around you — to make sure he won’t let go. Just like that, in his arms, you say it again — a truth, a fact, and a promise.

“I already am.”

[navybrat817]

Open Up

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You help Bucky feel better when he's in a mood.

Word Count: Over 1.8k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral (m. receiving), possessive behavior, dirty talk, slight jealousy, threat of violence (not against reader), slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: A Sinday treat inspired by this gif! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You found Bucky in one of the interrogation rooms. He had his leather jacket on, but didn't appear to be in a hurry to leave. Taking in his rigid posture from where he sat in his chair, you guessed it wasn't a good day. You wondered what happened or what exactly was bothering him. Considering he didn't look toward you, and he had to know it was you who walked through the door, you sensed that he wasn't in the mood to talk.

It didn't mean you couldn't try and make him feel better.

“Hey, Sarge,” you said, shutting the door behind you before you walked across the room. “Bad day?” You asked, stopping a few inches in front of him.

A pair of steel blue eyes snapped toward you and you couldn't suppress the shiver that rolled down your spine. It wasn't fair that he appeared so commanding when he was the one sitting in a chair and you were on your feet. “You could say that.”

“Anything I can do to help?” You asked with an almost innocent look in your eyes as he spread his massive thighs.

“Yeah,” he replied, gesturing to his crotch with his metal hand. “You can get on your knees and suck my cock.”

Your throat went dry as you looked in his lap, watching with growing interest as his thick fingers swiftly unbuckled his belt and pants. What if someone walked in? It was no secret that you and Bucky were together, but it didn't mean anyone should have to witness any of your endeavors. Then again, wasn't the thrill of getting caught part of the fun?

“Are you sure that's what you want? You could fuck my pussy,” you offered, your panties embarrassingly damp considering he hadn't touched you. If he asked you to, you’d ride him in that chair until his eyes rolled back.

The low chuckle he let out made your throat go dry. His laughter didn't fool you. He wasn't in the mood to play or tease. “If you want my cock in your cunt so badly, you better earn it by taking me in your fucking throat first,” he growled.

Your knees just about gave out, which gave you the perfect excuse to sink to the cool floor. “Will that make you feel better?” You asked as you crawled to him and slid your hands up his legs. Your cheeks flamed under his dark gaze. It was a thing of wonder to have his full attention. “Your big cock fucking my throat? Making me swallow every drop?”

“It’s a start,” he whispered, cupping your jaw with a tender touch. His thumb reached over to trace your lips, but pulled away before you could suck the digit into your waiting mouth. “Need that pretty pussy filled, too.”

You clenched, wishing he’d shove you on the back, push your legs apart, and drive his cock in so deep you'd scream. But you wouldn't get what you wanted if you didn't take care of him first. And having his dick in your mouth was something you craved, so you would enjoy it.

“Tell me you need it,” he ordered, his tongue wetting his bottom lip before his teeth dragged along it.

“I need it. Need you to fuck my throat,” you begged, unzipping his jeans and peeling them down with his underwear as far as you could. His thick cock bobbed free and you couldn't help licking your lips at the sight. You gripped the base and preened when he hardened more under your touch. “It’s so big. You can choke me with it if you want to.”

He groaned, heat curling in your gut when he rocked his hips up. “Look at you. So eager for it. Bet you'd rub your pussy against my boot if I told you to just to get a taste,” he rasped, making you whine. You’d love to leave a shine on his leather. “Everyone thinks you're a good agent and a good girl, but you’re my little cockslut.”

You pouted as you looked up at him. His blue eyes had gone black, the light shining over his head giving him the appearance of a dark angel. Beautiful, tortured, and heavenly. “I’m all of those things,” you said, licking from just above where your fingers held him to the tip. “I’m a good agent and a good girl. Your good girl.”

Because if there was anyone you wanted to be good for, it was Bucky Barnes.

“Fuck,” he grunted when your enclosed your lips around the head. The taste of him bloomed on your tongue, but it was just the beginning. He’d spill down your throat by the time you were done so the very essence of him lingered. “You are, doll. You’re so good and all mine,” he said, growling the last word.

You pulled off with a sweet smile, his praise bringing out your need to please him more. “And I’m very much your cockslut. So fuck my throat, Sarge,” you said, wasting no time swallowing him down.

“Your fucking mouth,” he groaned, bringing a hand to the back of your neck.

You hollowed out your cheeks and sucked in a breath through your nose as you relaxed your throat. As tempted as you were to reach between your legs and give yourself some relief, you rested your free hand on his thigh. The muscle twitched beneath it and he would feel it if you gave him the signal to stop. You never once had to.

You took him every single time.

He touched your jaw again, making sure your mouth stayed wide open around him. He forced you to take him in deeper, his hips thrusting up as you gagged. “That’s it. Suck it just like that,” he urged, making you moan around the thick length of him. “My good girl. Everything I need right here.”

Tears blurred your vision, but they quickly spilled over. He looked back at you with half-lidded eyes, your heart pounding at the sight. You knew you looked pretty stretched around him. And you knew he wanted to keep you.

“So beautiful on your knees,” he praised, his hands moving to grip each side of your head to control the pace. You whimpered when your hand fell away and nose brushed the curls at the base of his cock. His metal thumb wiped away a tear as he made you bob your head. “Take it, doll. I know it’s a lot, but you can take it. I know you can.”

Those weren't just words to stroke his ego or your own. It was a lot to take. Drool seeped from the corners of your mouth, adding to the mess from your tear tracks and running makeup. You were certain you looked ruined, which only made you more stunning in his eyes. Because he was the cause and effect. He broke you so beautifully and put every piece back in place while leaving a bit of himself behind as a reminder of who you belonged to.

“You're my girl,” he said in a deep voice, quickening his pace as your throat contracted around him. “Mine.”

“Yours.” The muffled reply made him growl. You reached up to cup his balls, still allowing him to keep the pace. He said he wanted to fuck your throat and you wouldn't stop him, but you wanted to make him feel good.

“My dirty girl on her knees. Bet the camera’s recording us right now,” he went on, your mouth pliant as he continued to thrust. You almost forgot about the surveillance. “Should swipe the footage. Make you sit on my cock while you watch how well you take it.”

You moaned, sending more vibrations through his cock as he groaned and panted. His rhythm almost faltered when you gently squeezed, feeling him twitch in your mouth and under your hand before you let go. He was so close, chasing his release. It was getting harder to breathe, your eyes stinging with tears again, but he was almost there.

You had to get him off.

The slight drag of your teeth did the trick. “Take it. Don't waste a fucking drop,” he grunted, his face twisting and keeping your head down as his release flooded your mouth. Glancing up at him as you did your best to swallow it all, he looked like such a pretty mess, too. Parted lips, warm cheeks, pupils blown with lust. He was just as ruined as you.

No one else had that kind of power over him.

You gasped and greedily inhaled when he pulled you off of him and slumped in the chair, catching his breath, too. He groaned when your tongue went out to catch another drop that dropped from the head of his cock. Your soaked panties from having him in your mouth didn't matter. He’d get you off soon enough.

As long as he was okay from whatever bothered him earlier, that was all you cared about.

“Fuck,” he sighed, pushing the chair back and joining you on your knees. He slotted his lips against yours as he pulled you close, leaving you breathless once again as his tongue explored your mouth. You carded your fingers through his short hair as he took what he needed, his stubble leaving a slight burn on your skin.

Another subtle reminder that you were his girl.

“Better, Sarge?” You asked once he finished, your voice raw. If he wanted to talk, you’d listen.

“Much better,” he promised, his next kiss sweet and tender. The earlier tension he held in his body had disappeared, which gave you some relief. “Thank you.”

“Good,” you smiled against his lips.

He closed his eyes, his nose touching yours. “I'm not a killer anymore.”

You raised an eyebrow. Those weren't the words you were expecting to hear. “I know,” you said.

“But I had to stay here,” he said, kissing over to your ear. “Because if I bumped into the agent who touched you earlier, I would've shattered every bone in his hand.”

“Bucky,” you breathed, your heart pounding when he pulled back to stare at you. Lust lit up his eyes again, but there was an underlying rage building as his nostrils flared. Was that why he was in a mood? Because an agent had touched your arm before you said you had a boyfriend? It was so meaningless in your eyes that you had forgotten about it.

But, fuck, if this slightly possessive side wasn't hot.

“You told him you were mine because you’re my good girl. Still pissed me off that he checked you out when you walked away. Still wanted to break his hand,” he snarled, laying you on your back. “And I know your voice is a little hoarse, but I need to make you scream my name. I want everyone nearby to know you’re my girl,” he said, his eyes on you as he pointed to the camera in the far left corner. “And anyone watching.”

So, that happened. Lovelies, you may go about your business. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[00-jammy-00]

HI!

Could you do a reader deity who is basically forgotten but Yan finds them and worshippes the hell out of them? (Maybe to the point of having a cult if you're comfortable)

And if you're uncomfortable with the ask that's perfectly fine! I'll probably send another Idea then!

Also any chance I could be 🔪 anon?

Thank you and have a good day! :D

Yan!Worshipper HC’s

Yan!Worshipper x GN! Deity! Reader

Content warning - Yandere themes, obsession, murder, implied stalking, nsfw mentions, manipulation, cult themes, he’s really pathetic I won’t lie

A/N - One more day until my 1K follower special ends!

———————————————————————————————————

Yan!Worshipper who had stumbled upon you when he decided to listen to his dumbass boss and go hiking. He had fallen down the side of a hill, almost breaking his ankle in the process. Though, all of that pain was so worth it when he saw your old, ruined shrine.

Yan!Worshipper who began visiting once a week. When you noticed you had finally gotten a follower, you were excited so you showed yourself when he prayed. He saw stars. You were so gorgeous, so perfect. Just seeing you had his jaw dropped and his pants uncomfortably tight.

Yan!Worshipper whose schedule slightly changed. Visiting you once a week, once every three days, once a day, multiple times a day… It didn’t matter though! He quit his job because you blessed him with amazing luck. He fixed up your shrine but he still felt horrible, you were forgotten. He did the only thing he could think of doing and started to spread the word about you.

Yan!Worshipper who slowly developed a following for you, just a few people here and there…a few hundred. He was a devoted man okay?! Of course he led the cult, none of these fuckers were worthy. None of them were allowed to gaze upon you but him. Only he could bask in your presence, bathe you, dress you, watch you, follow you, fuck you.

Yan!Worshipper who snapped a few necks while attempting to keep this cult going. Some people were so ungrateful, didn’t see what you had to offer. He made sure to soothe you whenever you got too stressed about the disappearances too. “It’s okay, my love, they are apart of something bigger, now look at all the offerings you are getting!” He made sure these brainless drones donated a bunch to this fucking thing too, he couldn’t go broke while servicing you.

Yan!Worshipper who is attending to your every need constantly. He brought you the finest silks, the biggest bed, the ripest fruit and anything else you wanted, as long as you were pleased then he was happy. It made him even more happy when you let him service you in other ways.

Yan!Worshipper who pounds you like the world is ending tomorrow. He can’t help but constantly be touching you, admiring you. He drags his fingers down your body, memorising every single piece of you. You were all his! He didn’t care about his own pleasure when his god was sitting right there. He once came three times just from giving you head.

Yan!Worshipper who’ll never let the cult be shut down. He’s paid off police and government officials to turn a blind eye to the murders sacrifices that happen at the mountain. He couldn’t have his work taken away. God forbid you get taken away. You’re his now. You chose him.

———————————————————————————————————

Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, requests are open <3

please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms without my permission.

[uraharasfavoriteexperiment]

~ | " mine. "

[ pairing ] roommate!kamo choso x male reader [ genres ] fluffy romance, heavily suggestive, smutty smut [ cw ] phsyical contact, making out, hickeys; dominant top!choso & submissive bottom!reader, rough couch sex, no prep or protection, heavy dirty talk, breeding kink, size kink, belly bulging kink, choking, praising, pet names (doll, bunny, baby, slut >:D), biting, choso has a teensy bit of a small blood fetish [ words ] 3304 (its crazy how much smut changes the wc bro) [ another good read !] " mine. " *sfw version* please reblog fanfictions when you read one you like! likes do not help writers' algorithms!

choso heaved a heavy, tired sigh, letting his weight fall backward into his pillows- big, fluffy, and covered in black satin pillowcases. he let out a content, grateful, and utterly exhausted moan, followed by a big yawn. he stretched his arms up toward the ceiling, then let them fall limp on either side of his body, putting him in a comfortable sort of spread-eagle position.

choso simply lay there for a while, fifteen minutes passing where he didn't think at all. he simply lay there, existing. then a thought crossed his exhaustion-clouded mind.

he'll be home soon.

i can tell him.

choso grinned excitedly, rolling over onto his side and staring over at the bedroom door. after a (really) long moment he blushed a color similar to the youtube logo, a grin spreading onto his face. he rolled over onto his back, smiling happily, then he took four seconds for his lungs to inhale a deep breath. he held it in for four seconds, then let it out, taking about six seconds to completely exhale all the carbon dioxide. he closed his eyes, finally letting himself fall asleep- he slipped gently into a light, soft slumber.

but that one thought… "i can tell him…"

that thought lingered in the front of choso's mind, a feeling similar to the effects of a happy pill befalling his body- but without the inconvenient side effects.

----------

you lingered on the doorstep of your shared apartment for a moment, yawning loudly before quickly unlocking the door to the apartment, stepping swiftly inside and closing the door behind you. you slipped quietly into the bedroom- quietly as you could, of course, because you knew for a fact that your roommate was asleep on the bed. you wouldn't have even had to look to know- he was snoring the same way you used to.

you dropped your bag onto the desk next to the book shelf, entering the en-suite bathroom.

you bent over the sink, groaning quietly into your shirt before pulling it over your head and tossing it into the hamper outside the bathroom door. you then went straight back to the sink, turning on the hot water. you filled up your cupped hands with hot water, tossing it upward and splashing it on your face. you turned and walked a couple feet and bent over the shower, shakng your head like a cat who fell into the tub. you turned again ad went to leave the bathroom, but as you reached the doorway into the bedroom your hand froze over the bathroom light switch, your face turned bright red, and your eyes widened, your heart starting to race.

choso was naked in bed, and he hadn't even pulled the covers up over himself.

well.. he had his black boxer shorts on… but nothing else.

he was otherwise completely naked, sprawled out comfortably on the bed you and he shared, in a cute sort of spread-eagle position.

choso's body was illuminated in pale white moonlight, his thickly muscled body shining in the light of the full supermoon.

you tried your very best not to look, you really did- but your efforts were futile.

"like whatcha see, bunny?"

your heart stopped for a second.

"you look absolutely delectable with that blush on your face, m/n. it makes me wanna take you for myself."

"i-um-" you started to say something to try to defend yourself, but the part of you that knew he wouldn't bully you over it shut you up real quick.

choso grinned, sitting up on his elbows and looking right at you, making direct eye contact with you.

your face turned an even more violent shade of red, now exceeding the vibrance of a japanese shrine.

choso giggled, sitting up completely in bed he stared fondly at you for a moment, then got up rather quickly and without very much warning. he made a casual, slowish beeline for you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you flush against his chest. his hands slid up your sides, shoulders and neck, then he cupped your face in his big, warm hands, forcing you to look at him. he waited a moment, letting you catch your breath- then he stole it from you lasciviously, bending down and stealing your lips in a hot, passionate, heart-skipping kiss.

"i love you, m/n." he said simply into your lips, picking you up by your waist and pressing you against the wall, making you wrap your legs around his waist reflexively. your arms went upward entirely non-reflexively and of their own accord, wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer to you, deepening the kiss deliciously.

choso growled possessively into your mouth, purposely making you moan. he used this opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, squeezing your thighs with both hands before one hand went up and tangled into your hair. he yanked softly on the hair on the back of your head, right near the baby hairs, making you moan loudly into his mouth.

choso did let you breathe- eventually. before that, he spent a few seconds kissing you roughly and heatedly one more time before dropping you carefully back onto your feet and holding you avariciously against the wall with both hands on your waist. he touched his forehead to the top of your forehead right next to your hairline- he was that much taller than you- and looked into your eyes, trying to control his own breathing and heartbeat as he waited for you to say it back.

he knew you felt the same way, after all. he was a hundred and fifty-four years old, he had learned over a century ago how to read people's emotions toward him.

your chest heaved as you tried to control your breath, which had become sort of ragged and heavy as you looked up into choso's eyes, trying to find the strength to speak.

you grinned, putting your hands on his head and letting your fingers tangle into his thick, pretty black hair. you pulled him down and pressed your lips against his again, whimpering needily into the kiss in response to another low, possessive, heated growl that ripped from the bottom of choso's chest.

you let your heart slow down to its normal speed, then took another moment for your own emotions before you responded, smiling and pulling choso almost impossibly closer.

"i love you too, choso.." you pretty much whispered, blushing furiously as you tried really hard not to panic in response to the words that had just come out of your mouth.

choso grinned, hugging you tightly and picking you up again. he carried you effortlessly backward to the bed, dropping you carefully onto the black satin bedsheets.

"ugh, you're so god damned hot, cho…"

"cho?" choso repeated teasingly, "is that the first time you've called me that, m/n? or is your mouth moving faster than your heart and head?"

you blushed, pouting and looking away furiously. "no…" you spat, trying to keep up the facade, "i'm jus'- i thought it was cute. so i decided to call you cho."

choso's grin widened and he giggled, kissing you roughly before growling quietly against your lips, "say that again, i liked it." his voice was low, deep and husky, telling you that he had been in a pretty deep sleep before you had come home. the sound of his voice sent a shiver of heat and anticipation down your spine, blood rushing downward in your body.

"you're so hot, cho…" you whined into his lips, moaning whoreishly into his mouth when he used the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth again, his hand wrapping around your throat and squeezing ever so lightly.

"you're mine now, m/n." he hissed into your lips, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you tightly.

you grinned, hugging him just as tightly. "and you're mine."

"i can settle with that, kitten…" he purred into your ear, grinning when he felt your face heat up.

you grinned, blushing. "kitten? is that the first time you've called me that, choso? or is your mouth moving faster than your heart and head?"

choso chuckled, grinning widely as you mirrored his earlier cheeky comment. he slapped your cheek lightly, licking your neck.

"no, i've called you that before… i just so happen to own a diary, and no, kitten, you're not allowed to read it."

you snorted, kicking choso's cheek. "pff, i'm good. i'd rather find out the things you dream about doing to me in real time."choso's grin widened to the point where it kind of hurt, but he didn't care. he finally had you all to himself…

and he was never going to let go of you.

"mine."

you grin, growling as you pull him down into another kiss- but this one is hotter, more rough. choso growls too, his hands sliding down your waist and squeezing your ass and thighs, making you moan into his mouth. he seized the opportunity once again, shoving his tongue into your mouth as he started to grind his hips against yours.

you pulled back involuntarily, letting your head fall back into the pillows as you groaned, starting to grind your own hips up into his. he growled warningly, holding your hips down with one hand, the other tangling into your hair and yanking it just roughly enough to make you moan loudly. the sound faded into another of its kind as choso latched onto your throat with his mouth, biting down just barely hard enough to lure a bit of blood from your veins. he groaned into your neck, dragging his tongue across the wound and relishing in the sweet, yet metallic taste.

"f-ch-choso..." you whined in a high-pitched voice, your back arching up involuntarily, your body pressing up against his.

"yeah, bunny?"

"i-i need you, p-please..." you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him a little tighter than you intended. choso grinned, grabbing your face with both hands and forcing you to look at him.

"that's exactly what i wanted to hear, doll." he purred in a low voice. his grin widened and he dragged his tongue across your throat again, latching onto the side of your neck right underneath the right end of your jawline. he sucked on your neck hungrily, letting himself drown in the pretty whines and moans that fell from your mouth. his chest swelled with pride as he heard his name come out a few times; clearly no one else had ever been able to reduce you to such a mess as he had without even taking his or your pants off...

choso wondered what you'd look like when he finally did.

"choso, c'mooon..." you whined needfully, burying your face in his neck and pulling him closer. choso's hand slid down your chest and abs, letting his nails scrape softly against your skin and grinning when you moaned quietly in response to the feeling.

"take your pants off, bunny," he whispers quietly, sitting up and grinning again when you whined in response to the loss of contact. you sit up, kicking your jeans off quickly before pulling choso into another kiss. choso growls into your mouth, his body shaking a little in response to your hands sliding down his waist and squeezing his thighs.

"your hands feel so good, baby..." he whispered into your mouth, kissing you back in the rough, heated, passionate pace that you had set. he sneakily slips a hand into the waistband of your boxer shorts, letting his fingers play around affectionately (more possessively than anything else) with the skin of your hips.

"want me to fuck you, m/n?" choso whispered into your ear, "yeah? want me to fill you up with my cock? fuck you till you can't breathe enough to moan my name?"

a sound came out of your mouth somewhere between a moan and a groan, your voice dripping with need that was more than evident to your bright, empathic roommate.

"god yes, choso, please, fuck me, i need it so bad-" you whined, hugging choso even tighter. he grinned, growling predatorily as his hands raked down your body for what had to be the billionth time that night. his fingers hooked into the waistband of your boxers again and he pulled them down to your thighs, leaning down and purring into your ear.

"take them off, doll."

you grinned, pushing him off and kicking off your boxers, exposing yourself completely to him.

"finally..." choso groans, using his body to shove you down onto the bed, and now was the moment you noticed that choso had removed his own boxers, probably a while ago. he grabs you by the chin, his grip gentle but firm as he turns your head back upward to look at him.

"like whatcha see, bunny?" he repeats, grinning. before you can respond, he leans down and quickly grabs you up in another kiss. you nod furiously, and choso grabs you by your waist and lets his weight fall on top of you, then rolls over so that you're on top of him.

"ride me, then," he growls, "if you last long enough i'll give you exactly that... i'll fuck you till you can't breathe."

as he speaks, his hand slides up your body and he slips two fingers into your mouth. you take them gladly, sucking on them happily for about thirty seconds before choso pulls them out. both of you grin as you see the string of saliva that connected your lips with his fingers. he rolled you over again and sat up between your legs. he grabbed your hips and pulled you toward his hips, wrapping your thighs around his waist.

choso grinned, leaning down and dragging his tongue up your stomach, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. his body heated up in response to the whoreish moan that came out of your mouth when he slowly, carefully slid his two fingers into you. he bent down and kissed you again- this time, it was more soft and comforting than the other times your lips had connected with his that night.

"does that feel good, bunny?" he purred into your ear, twisting his wrist a little with his finger still inside you. he waited till you nodded vigorously, then pressed another finger inside you. you moaned quietly as he moved his fingers skillfully inside you, making your thighs trying to close up. but because they were still wrapped around choso, all you ended up doing was squeezing his waist and making him growl again.

as a result of your mind steadily becoming more fogged with pleasure, you giggled. choso's eyebrow went up, and he grinned again. you giggled again, making grabby hands at him. now it was his turn to giggle; he leaned into your embrace, letting you pull him down into another kiss.

"i really need you to stop teasing me," you said with a cute, aggressive pout that nearly broke choso's heart. he chuckled, carefully pulling his fingers out of you and quickly replacing the emptiness with the tip of his cock. he touched his forehead to yours, using one hand to pull you gently up by the back of your neck into a kiss as he slowly, carefully pushed his length into your tight hole.

"f-fuck..." you and choso moaned in unison. your eyes rolled back into your head for a moment as you tried your best to process the feeling of being so full- filled to the brim with the man you'd been so madly, hopelessly in love with for so long.

choso growled like a hungry animal as he bottomed out inside you. unable to hide from the urge to mess you up, he pressed his hand into your stomach as he started to move. you barely managed to contain yourself as this tiny, simple action sent you careening up into cloud nine, moaning loudly several times in a row- choso's name was sprinkled into the mix.

"f-nnngh, fuck, choso, fuck that feels so good..." you moaned.

"yeah, i know, bunny," he growled, applying more pressure as he started to move faster, putting a bit more force into his thrusts. he kept on like this for a couple of minutes, adding more speed and strength in small increments until, without any warning for poor little you, he hit your prostate. now, this would have felt damn good, yes, but choso was laying on top of you at a very precise angle, and when he hit your prostate, he hit it at an angle that drove every nerve in your body up the wall, dragging a sound out of your throat that could have been accused of being a scream, and the accuser would be correct.

choso only grinned evilly when he heard that sound come out of your mouth. his hand snaked up your body, relieving the pressure and making you whine in protest- but the sound quickly turned into a strangled moan as choso wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed.

you whined, squirming impatiently underneath choso's weight as your body started to burn with the immeasurable craving for more... more. you needed more. and you barely managed to voice this through the hazy white fog of pleasure clouding your brain cells.

"ch-choso- more-nngh, more, please..." you whimpered, hugging choso tightly with both your arms and legs, using your body to urge him to give in to your request. and to your luck, choso grinned, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing tightly as he started to move more quickly, abusing your prostate just the way you'd asked him to. the coil in your gut... it was starting to melt, it was so hot.

it burned, it made every nerve ending in your body flare up. it made your whole body feel alive, and this was not a feeling you had felt before-

and you weren't a virgin.

choso hit your prostate particularly hard at one point and your eyes rolled up into your skull, a feral groan tearing its way out of the back of your throat. your whole body shook as your long-awaited release hit you head-on, choso's name falling from your love-swollen lips like a mantra. choso didn't hold out much longer than you; the feeling of your body pulling him in like a black hole didn't help very much. he squeezed you with all the remaining strength in his arms, burying his face in your neck and biting down possessively as he filled you to the brim.

choso collapsed completely into your body, letting the warmth of your arms surround and comfort him as he came down from the high. his hand slid up your body, touching the side of your neck and caressing the [s/c] perfectly love-bruised skin with his thumb. you smiled weakly, doing your best to focus on the feeling, using it to ground yourself back in reality and come down from your own high.

"that was…" choso started, trailing off.

"i don't even know how to label it…" you whispered.

"i don't think there's even a word for it." choso realized after spending a couple seconds trying to get his brain to think. "i do know one thing, though… i love you, m/n. i want you all to myself, forever. is that alright with you, bunny?"

you grinned, burrowing your nose into his neck and nodding furiously.

"yeah, that's better than alright."

"then y'know what that makes you, my pretty little slut?" choso said, moving his head up a little and looking into your eyes.

"what?" you challenged, your grin widening. choso leaned down and pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that was impossibly strong and heated after what you and he had just done.

"mine."

© uraharasfavoriteexperiment.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

good girl*

word count: ~500

warnings: smut!!! pure filth, don't read if you are below 18

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

“That’s it, that’s it, yeah. Good fucking girl. Taking me so well” his praise was followed by a sharp spank, making you mewl.

There were nights when he made love to you. Fucked you real nice and slow, making you feel every inch of his cock as you fell apart beneath him. Kissing you, loving on you so much you could cry.

But tonight was far from it. He was fucking you hard and fast into the mattress, your nails raking memories down his back. He sat up, watching in awe of how well you took his cock, swallowing him up each time he thrust in.

“Taking me so fucking good, baby” he groaned, eyes threatening to squeeze shut with how good he felt, “Feel so fucking good around my cock”

“Harry, please” you moaned breathlessly.

“Please what, sweetheart?” he teased, bringing a hand up to your chest, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You moaned and arched your back even more, it felt so damn good.

“You want me to make you cum, darling?” his words echoed in your head, but you were too fucked out to focus. You nodded your head in a yes, and he spanked your clit harshly, bringing you back.

Suddenly, he stopped. His cock was halfway in, and you whimpered as you felt your orgasm slip away. 

He grabbed your waist and flipped you over so you were on your stomach and pulled you by your hip so your ass was in the air, legs spread open. He gave your ass a harsh spank, and then smoothed his hand over the reddening area. 

He leaned in, kissing his way down your back, pushing your cheeks apart and diving his tongue in. He pushed his tongue into your cunt, flicking it around as his fingers played with your clit. You cried out into the pillow, eyes rolling into the back of your head. 

“Taste so fucking good, sweetheart. All fo’ me” he said into your pussy, sliding his tongue and flicking it against your clit. Your orgasm was back, threatening to fall over the edge if he kept licking you so good. 

“Gonna cum” you cooed, gripping the sheets tightly. His tongue was gone soon, replaced by his throbbing cock pushing into your cunt.

You let out a guttural moan as your pussy clenched and squeezed him. Your orgasm ripped through your body, your body convulsing as a few tears escaped your closed eyes. You cried out into the mattress as he kept his relentless pace, his cock twitching inside.

It wasn’t long before he came too, his cock spilling his cum inside your pussy.

“Fucking hell” he cursed, pulling out slowly once he came and you sighed, falling to your side. He laid beside you, pulling you into his arms as you breathed into each other’s mouths, lazily kissing as his cum oozed out of you.

He kissed your cheek, your sweaty brows and your eyes as you smiled against him. 

“Did so good for me, pretty girl. My good girl” you sighed as you kissed him, hugging him close as he pulled the duvet over both of you.

let me know if you like this! you can tip me here!

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

last post: boyfriend!harry headcanons

thigh riding blurb*

three knuckle deep(fingering blurb)*

please like and reblog, it may seem stupid but it actually helps a lot! ♡

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

taglist:@freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @me-undiscovered @tbsloneely @whoreonmondays @kathb59 @avalentina @kittenhere @speedywritingharrystylesjudge @mypolicemanharryyy @theendx888 @ladscarlett @daphnesutton. @whotfisade

[kaleldobrev]

Taste

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader & Dean Winchester

Summary: Dean going down on you in the back of Baby

Word Count: 657

Warnings: Cursing (4x), Smut (Fingering & Oral — F Receiving)

Authors Note: Takes place during season one | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

The uncomfortableness of the backseat didn’t faze you, as having sex in this specific position was one you were accustomed to; even before picking up Sam from Stanford.

Late night make out sessions before quietly leaving the motel room to find solace in Baby had become routine for you and Dean, as neither one of you wanted to be the one responsible for waking up Sam; knowing that he would give an earful to both of you.

Your bare back slightly stuck to the leather as Dean started to trail kisses down your chest and abdomen, stopping just above the hem of your shorts. The sounds of your back lifting up from the leather caused Dean to stop what he was doing, slight concern crossing his face. “Want me to put the blanket or my jacket down?” He asked, his hands already going for the blanket on the floor.

“Please,” you replied; almost semi-peeling yourself up from the leather seat. You covered your chest with your arms, unsure of why you did so, as this wasn’t the first (nor would it be the last) time Dean had seen you naked.

Happy with the placement of the blanket, he gave you a quick peck on the lips before gently lying you back down onto the backseat — your back no longer sticking to the leather.

Dean went back to kissing your abdomen again, and then hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. You lifted your ass up a bit, just enough for him to remove your shorts — the look in his eyes was priceless when he realized you had nothing on underneath. “Expecting this were you?” He grinned, throwing your shorts onto the floor next to him.

Spreading your legs, you couldn’t help but grin. “Always,” you said, starting to run your fingertips up and down your thigh.

Without a second thought, he hooked your legs over his shoulders; his eyes level with your now exposed pussy. “Been wanting to do this all day,” he said, starting to kiss your inner thighs.

“Says the one who just gave me shit for going commando,” you grinned. You could feel his slightly stubbled smirk in your thighs, followed by him mumbling something you couldn’t quite make out.

His tongue made a long strip on your clit, and you let out a small moan at the contact. You too had been craving this all day. His tongue started slow, doing those intricate swirls he usually did so effortlessly with his tongue, that caused you to slightly squirm. His hand splayed on your stomach, trying to keep you from moving too much as he started to slowly fuck you with a combination of his fingers and tongue.

“Fuck,” you breathed out; feeling yourself starting to clench around him; a smirk returning on his lips. It didn’t take long for Dean to get you there, as he was a self proclaimed expert when it came to knowing exactly the right moves to get you to come not only quickly, but hard.

Your whole body shuddered, and your knees began to go weak. You were thankful for the support of his shoulders, as if you didn’t, you knew your whole body would have gone limp.

He continued to alternate between using his tongue and fingers as you rid out your orgasm; your pussy starting to get sensitive from the intense orgasm that your boyfriend had just provided you with.

Coming down from your high, he removed his fingers and tongue from you, and you slightly whined at the loss of him. "Always so fucking good," he said, sticking his fingers in his mouth, licking them clean.

As you propped yourself up on your semi-shakey elbows, he looked at you, slightly grinning, and you couldn't help but smirk in return. "What are you thinking about?" He asked.

"How it's my turn to taste you," you replied; a look of pure lust in his eyes.

Tag List:

@kidwhofixates | @the-achievementhunter | @k-slla | @waters-2567 | @mrlonelycat | @dumb-fawkin-bitch | @ladysparkles78 | @jackles010378 | @zepskies | @roseblue373 | @mrsjenniferwinchester | @globetrotter28 | @crystal555 | @poughkeepskie1967 | @missscarlettangel | @foxyjwls007 | @nancymcl | @jacklesbrainworms

@beansproutmafia | @queenie32 | @deansbbyx | @deans-spinster-witch | @ficmesideways | @frozenhuntress67 | @coldspoons | @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden | @androah | @zulema222

@savagemickey03 | @deanbrainrotwritings | @rachiem4-blog | @syrma-sensei | @justletmereadfanfic | @deans-daydream | @midorimachisenpaii | @anamiad00msday | @fartcrunchies

@octoberclidan | @snakebxtez | @impalari | @deanwanddamons | @missy420-0 | @hannahisthebanana | @madzzz0797 | @livingordeadwhoknows | @writinginfear | @grx-deanslovr | @Roskar16 | @k-l-a-w-s

If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please follow this link

Please make sure you have your mentions on so I'm able to tag you

Think you should have gotten tagged and didn't? Think you shouldn't have gotten tagged and did? Please check your preferences on the taglist form | Don't hesitate to contact me if you have any questions, comments and/or concerns ♡

[halfwayhearted]

Popular!Hector Fort x Nerdy!reader and she has to tutor him and he wont stop flirting with her and she’s like errr?? ykwim… lmk….

Show Me How — Héctor Fort.

Pairing: Héctor Fort x Fem!Reader

Summary: He doesn’t seem to be taking your tutoring seriously. And, truth be told, you don’t really seem to mind it at all in the end.

Word Count: 380+

Disclaimer/s — Some (?) flirting…, no use of Y/N, OOC Hector, I don’t know, and that’s it! *_*

A/N: I so didn’t follow this request through clearly, but I actually can’t write men flirting for the life of me so… hey… shhhh… okay…

You were absolutely convinced that he couldn't take anything seriously, not even for a moment. When you asked him to solve the problem, he just stared blankly at the paper. Then, ever-so-slowly, he lifted his head and looked at you through his eyelashes, his brows furrowed in confusion and his lips pursed in a way that made it clear he was completely out of his depth.

“That’s okay,” you murmured softly, gently taking the pencil from his hands when you noticed he was just toying with it absentmindedly, your fingers brushing against his slightly. Okay, wow! “Maybe, look at it again, yeah? What do you see?”

The Fort boy hums, “Numbers.”

Well! “I—” He wasn’t wrong. “Well, yes… good. So, how would you find the antiderivative?”

“I don’t know,” he countered, leaning back in his chair and stretching, his hands moving to rest behind his head for just a split second. “Do you want to take a break? Intermission? You hungry?”

You refrain from letting out a sigh, “No, thanks.”

A small smirk slowly spreads across his lips as his head tilts, “You sure? I can make you something.”

“Well,” a long, silent moment passes, “I have to be home in a bit anyways, but thank you. We can continue this tomorrow? If you… if you want.”

“I don’t have your number.”

Oh! “I didn’t think you needed it.”

“I don’t.” The brunette shrugged, “But I want it.”

He wants it. Hector Fort, one of the star athletes and arguably the most well-known guy in school, wants to have your number. A prank, perchance?

Get a grip.

“Right, yeah, of course. So, you would want to continue this tomorrow or… something?”

Héctor nods his head, “Your number. Please.”

Right, right. “Oh! Sorry, let me see your phone?”

With a small hum, he leans forward and moves to grab his phone from his pocket, unlocking it and sliding it over for you to type it in.

Once again, your fingers brush against his, sending a shiver up your spine. You can't help but let your gaze flicker up to meet his. His eyes, twinkling with a playful gleam, seem to draw you in, making the moment feel… planned.

As if he had orchestrated the movement, and you couldn't help but feel glad that he did.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedrilcvr ! ౨ৎ

[mrsfancyferrari]

You can do it with a pilot between charles, lando, max, lewis, carlos and it ends up in smut like "I love your smell"

Favourite Smell

Anon: You can do it with a pilot between charles, lando, max, lewis, carlos and it ends up in smut like "I love your smell"

Song: Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood

Author’s note: Hey anon! I'm not that good at writing smut so please bear with me! Please like, reblog and share this! <33

Word count: 4.6k

The sound of the front door opening startles you out of your work-induced haze. You glance up at the clock on your computer screen and see that it's already past 11pm.

You sigh, realizing how exhausted you truly are. Just a few hours ago, you were navigating through turbulent skies, ensuring the safe arrival of hundreds of passengers. Flying airplanes for a week straight really takes a lot out of you, but the thrill of being in the air makes it all worthwhile.

You had just arrived home, your body still vibrating from the hum of the engines, and now you find yourself jolted back to reality by the sudden noise.

Despite your fatigue, you find a small sense of comfort in the familiarity of your home. The soft glow of your office lamp, the faint scent of your favorite candle, and the quiet stillness of the night all serve as a gentle reminder that you're finally back in your sanctuary.

You save your last email and swivel your chair around to see Max walking into the living room, looking as handsome as ever.

It's been months since you last saw him in person, and the sight of him takes your breath away. His chiseled jawline, the way his hair effortlessly falls into place, and those piercing eyes that seem to look right through you—every detail is even more striking than you remembered.

You almost forgot just how handsome and hot he is, but now, standing before you, he looks like he stepped straight out of your dreams.

Max's presence fills the room, and you can't help but feel a magnetic pull towards him. As he walks closer, a warm smile spreads across his face, making your heart skip a beat.

You realize just how much you've missed him, and the thought of reconnecting fills you with a renewed sense of excitement and anticipation.

"Hey you," you say, standing up to greet him with a kiss. He wraps his arms around you and lifts you off the ground, spinning you around in a circle before setting you back down.

"I missed you," he says, his eyes shining with excitement. "God, I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too," you reply, your heart fluttering in your chest. "How was your flight?"

"It was good," he says, his hands already starting to wander down your body. "But it's nothing compared to being here with you."

You laugh and swat his hands away, but you can't help the smile that spreads across your face. It's been months since you two last saw each other, and you can feel the heat building between you already.

"Let me take a shower and then we can catch up," you say, pulling away from him.

"Can I join you?" he asks, his eyes darkening with desire.

You hesitate for a moment, but the thought of his hands on your body is too tempting to resist. "Okay," you say, nodding your head. "But no funny business."

He grins and follows you into the bathroom, stripping off his clothes as he goes. By the time you step into the shower, he's already naked and waiting for you.

You step under the hot water and let it wash over you, closing your eyes and sighing with pleasure.

As the water cascades over your body, you can feel the tension of the day slowly melting away. You're aware of his presence behind you, the heat of his skin just inches from yours, and it sends shivers down your spine.

A mix of excitement and nervousness bubbles within you, but you focus on the soothing sensation of the water, trying to stay in the moment.

You feel Max's hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him, and you open your eyes to see him looking down at you with a hungry expression.

His touch is electric, sending tingles through your skin as his fingers trace the curve of your waist.

The warmth of his breath against your neck makes your heart race, and you can feel the firm press of his body against yours, grounding you in the intensity of the moment.

The combination of the steamy water and his closeness creates a heady, intoxicating atmosphere that leaves you breathless.

"I love your smell," he says, pressing his nose into your shoulder and inhaling deeply.

You laugh and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. His tongue slides into your mouth and you moan, feeling his hard cock pressing against your stomach.

"I've missed you," you say again, your voice husky with desire.

The intensity of it all is overwhelming, a blend of longing, passion, and a deep-seated connection that seems to transcend words. Each touch, each breath, feels like a reaffirmation of something profound and unspoken between us.

My heart pounds in my chest, a rhythm that mirrors the urgency and desire coursing through my veins.

He growls and picks you up, pinning you against the shower wall and thrusting his hips against yours. You can feel the heat building between us, your body responding to his touch without hesitation.

"I need you," he says, his voice low and urgent. "I need to be inside you."

You nod, unable to speak. You want him just as much as he wants you. He reaches down and guides his cock inside you, and you gasp at the feeling of him filling you up.

He starts to move, thrusting in and out of you with a desperate need. You wrap your legs around his waist and hold on, your nails digging into his shoulders as he fucks you harder and harder.

"Yes, yes," you moan, your head falling back against the shower wall. "Fuck, Max, yes."

He groans and quickens his pace, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over again. You can feel yourself getting close, your body tensing up as the pleasure builds.

"I'm going to cum," you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Cum for me," he says, his voice strained. "Cum all over my cock."

You cry out as you come, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. He follows you over the edge, his cock twitching inside you as he releases.

You stay like that for a moment, your bodies slick with sweat and water. He pulls you close and kisses you softly. You wrap your arms around his neck, your heart still pounding in your chest.

You take a deep breath as you slowly come back to reality. He kisses you again, slow and soft this time, and you can feel the love between us.

The warmth of his body against mine is comforting, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothes the lingering intensity of our encounter. My muscles, still trembling from the peak of pleasure, begin to relax as I take in the scent of his skin mixed with the steam of the shower.

As we stand there, enveloped in each other’s embrace, I feel a profound sense of contentment and connection, a silent promise of love and devotion.

"I love you," he says, his eyes shining with emotion.

"I love you too," you reply, your heart swelling with happiness.

You finish your shower and dry off, getting dressed in comfortable clothes before settling on the couch to catch up on each other's lives.

But even as you talk and laugh, your mind keeps drifting back to the feel of his body against yours, his cock inside you.

You know that you have a long night ahead, and you can't wait to explore every inch of each other's bodies. . . .

Today, Max's desire for you was really insatiable, and he follows you around the house after an intense bathroom encounter.

"I'm not done yet," Max mutters, his voice low and husky with need.

You try to resist, but his touch is intoxicating, and you find yourself unable to deny him. As you walk into the kitchen, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close.

"Max, I'm tired," you protest, but your words lack conviction.

He nuzzles your neck, his lips brushing against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Just a little while longer," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

His hands start to wander, caressing your body in all the right places. You feel yourself weakening, your resistance melting away. He lifts you up onto the kitchen counter, spreading your legs apart.

"Max, what are you doing?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I want you," he says, his voice filled with longing.

"We shouldn't, you have something tomorrow," you start, but Max's lips on yours stop you mid-sentence.

"Stop thinking," he mutters against your mouth, his kiss deepening as if to erase any lingering doubts.

You try to pull away, rational thoughts battling with the desire flooding your veins, but Max's grip tightens, his hands firm and persuasive.

"Max, we really should..." you attempt to protest once more, though the words come out softer, less certain.

"Just this once," he pleads, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. "I'll make it worth your while."

His hands continue their exploration, coaxing and caressing in ways that make coherent thought nearly impossible. You let out a sigh, knowing that resisting him is futile, especially when he's like this.

"Okay, but just this once," you finally concede, your voice barely audible as you give in, your body already responding to his every touch.

Max started kissing you again, his tongue exploring your mouth. You moaned, your head falling back as he trailed kisses down your neck. His hands were everywhere, touching and caressing you.

"You feel so good," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

You moaned, your hips bucking up to meet his. "Max," You said, your voice breathless.

Max didn't need any more encouragement. He slid into you, filling you up completely. You moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders.

"Fuck, you're tight," he said, his voice strained.

You moaned, your hips moving in time with his. "Max, harder," You said, your voice a whisper.

Max started thrusting harder, his cock hitting you in all the right spots. How he managed to hit it every time, you'll never know.

You moaned, your head falling back as pleasure washed over you.

"Yes, Max, yes," You said, your voice breathless.

Max leaned down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucked and bit, his hands gripping your hips. You moaned, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Oh, fuck, Max," You said, your voice strained.

Max started thrusting harder and faster, his cock hitting me deeper and deeper. You moaned, your head thrown back as pleasure consumed you.

"Max, I'm close," You said, your voice breathless.

Max groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Me too," he said, his voice strained.

You moaned, your orgasm rushing over you. "Max, yes, yes," You said, your voice a whisper.

Max groaned, his cock twitching inside you as he came. We both sat there, panting and sweating, for a few moments.

"I told you I wasn't done yet," he whispers, his voice filled with satisfaction.

You smile, feeling a mix of exhaustion and contentment as you catch your breath. "You definitely weren't," you murmur, running your fingers through his hair.

"But we really shouldn't make this a habit," you add with a teasing grin, although a part of you knows it's going to be hard to resist him in the future.

He chuckles softly, lifting his head to look into your eyes. "We'll see about that," he says, his tone both playful and serious. "For now, let's just enjoy this moment," he suggests, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You nod, cuddling closer, feeling his warmth enveloping you as you both drift into a peaceful silence, savoring the aftermath of your passionate encounter.

His charisma and the undeniable chemistry you share make it difficult to keep your distance. Every touch, every glance between you seems to ignite a fire that can't easily be extinguished.

As much as you try to remind yourself of the complications, the magnetic pull you feel towards him is almost impossible to ignore.

He rests his head at the crook of your neck, pressing gentle kisses along your skin. Each kiss sends a shiver down your spine, and occasionally, he teases you with a playful bite that makes you gasp softly.

The intimacy of the moment, the way he seems to know exactly how to make you feel alive, only deepens your connection. You close your eyes, losing yourself in the sensation, his breath warm against your neck.

As you lie there, you can't help but think about the complexities of your relationship. Part of you knows that allowing yourself to get swept up in this passion could lead to complications, but another part of you craves the intensity of your bond.

His touch, his presence, everything about him feels like a magnet pulling you in. For now, you decide to surrender to the moment, letting the warmth of his kisses and the comfort of his embrace wash over you.

His lips continue their tender assault, and you can't help but tilt your head, giving him better access.

"You're making it very hard to resist," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath.

He pauses, looking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Good," he murmurs against your skin, his breath warm and tantalizing, "because I don't intend to be resisted."

The line between desire and restraint blurs further as you both surrender to the undeniable chemistry that binds you.

Suddenly, he scoops you up with a swift, effortless motion, his strong arms sliding beneath your thighs. You gasp in surprise, clinging to him as he carries you towards the bedroom, his eyes never leaving yours.

The playful glint in his gaze only fuels the fire within you, making your heart race even faster. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you and the magnetic pull that binds you together.

As he lays you gently on the bed, you feel the anticipation building, every nerve in your body alight with desire. His hands trace delicate patterns along your skin, each touch leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

The room is filled with the soft sounds of your shared breaths and the quiet hum of your heartbeat. In this moment, nothing else matters except the undeniable connection you share, and you surrender completely, allowing yourself to be consumed by the intensity of your bond.

He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "You know, we should go to sleep. We've got a lot of things happening tomorrow."

You blink, the haze of desire lifting slightly as reality seeps back in. "You're right," you murmur, though part of you aches to continue this intimate dance.

Max grins, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of mischief and affection.

"But," he says, his voice softening, "just because we need to sleep doesn't mean we can't enjoy these small moments."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with physical touch. "True," you reply, snuggling closer to him.

Max then traced his fingers across your back, sending tingles down your spine. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if he were memorizing every curve and contour.

You closed your eyes, savoring the sensation and the quiet intimacy that wrapped around you both like a cocoon. The world outside seemed so far away, its demands and responsibilities unable to penetrate the sacred bubble you had created together.

As his fingers continued their slow, deliberate journey, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. The day's worries melted away, replaced by the comforting rhythm of his touch.

Max's presence was a soothing balm, grounding you in the here and now. "These moments are what make everything else worthwhile," he whispered, his breath stirring the hair at the nape of your neck.

You nodded, a contented smile playing on your lips. In this shared silence, you both found solace, knowing that no matter what tomorrow brought, you would face it together.

The gentle caress of Max's fingers, combined with the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing, lulled you into a state of serene drowsiness. You felt your thoughts begin to drift, each one softer and more distant than the last.

It was as if the very essence of the night was wrapping around you, pulling you gently into its embrace. The boundaries between wakefulness and sleep blurred, and you let yourself be carried away by the tranquility of the moment.

You didn't know when you fell asleep, only that you awoke to the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains.

Max's arm was still around you, his presence a constant, reassuring anchor. For a moment, you simply lay there, basking in the warmth of his body and the quiet promise of a new day.

The world outside might have been calling, but here, in this space, you found a rare and precious peace.

Birdsong filled the air, a melodic chorus that signaled the start of a new day. The gentle rustling of leaves in the morning breeze added a soothing backdrop, while the distant hum of early morning traffic provided a subtle reminder of the world beyond your sanctuary.

These sounds blended together, creating a harmonious symphony that welcomed you into the day with a sense of calm and renewal.

As you stretched, you felt a dull ache in your muscles, a lingering reminder of the previous day's exertions. A blush crept up your cheeks as fleeting memories of yesterday's passionate moments surfaced.

The way Max had looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and tenderness, played over in your mind. Each touch, each whispered word had left an indelible mark, a testament to the intensity of your connection.

You turned your head slightly, watching Max's peaceful expression as he continued to sleep.

The blush deepened as your gaze traced the line of his jaw, recalling how it felt beneath your fingers.

Despite the soreness, a small smile formed on your lips, gratitude filling your heart for the beautiful moments you shared. The day ahead might be demanding, but the memory of yesterday's shared intimacy provided a wellspring of strength and joy to draw from.

Suddenly, Max's hand on your waist started to move, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your skin. "Does it still hurt?" you heard him mutter, his voice thick with sleep and concern.

Startled, you turned to face him, your cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. "A little," you admitted shyly, avoiding his gaze. "But it's a good kind of sore."

Max's eyes softened as he looked at you, a tender smile playing on his lips. "I'm sorry if I was too rough," he whispered, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

You shook your head, a small, bashful smile forming on your lips. "No, it was perfect," you reassured him, feeling a rush of warmth at his caring touch. "Really, Max, it was perfect."

His smile widened, and he pulled you closer, wrapping you in his comforting embrace as the world outside slowly came to life. . . .

The sun streams through the window blinds, casting stripes of light and shadow across the living room floor. You sprawl on the couch, idly flipping through the channels on the TV, your thoughts drifting to Max, who's off at the gym.

It had been a few days since your last intimate moment with Max, and the memory lingered in your mind, a sweet ache that you couldn’t shake.

The way his touch had made your skin tingle, the sound of his breath mingling with yours, it all felt so vivid, so immediate, even though it was already slipping into the past.

You found yourself craving that connection again, the way your bodies fit together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces finally finding their match.

As you continued to flip through the channels, a wave of longing washed over you. You imagined him walking through the door, still sweaty from his workout, his muscles taut and glistening.

You could almost feel the heat radiating from his body as he leaned down to kiss you, his lips a perfect blend of tenderness and urgency.

The thought sent a shiver down your spine, and you knew that when he comes back, you would make sure to remind him just how much you missed him.

A smile plays at the corners of your lips as you remember the way he looked this morning, his hair still mussed from sleep and his eyes bright with excitement for the day ahead.

The sound of the front door opening startles you out of your reverie. Max walks in, his cheeks flushed from exertion and his eyes filled with a warmth that sends a shiver down your spine.

He crosses the room in a few long strides, dropping a kiss on your forehead as he passes.

"Hey, babe," he says, his voice low and husky. "How was your day?"

"Boring without you," you reply, reaching up to brush a lock of hair out of his eyes. "How was your workout?"

"Good," he says, his gaze dropping to your lips. "But not as good as what I have in mind for later."

Your heart skips a beat as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, lingering kiss. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, and you open to him, welcoming the invasion with a sigh of pleasure.

The kiss deepens, and you find yourself pulling him down onto the couch, your legs tangling with his as you explore each other's mouths. His hands roam over your body, cupping your breasts and teasing your nipples through the fabric of your shirt.

"God, I want you," he growls, his breath hot against your ear. "I've been thinking about this all day."

"Me too," you pant, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. "I need you, Max."

He helps you strip off his shirt, his eyes darkening as he takes in the sight of your bare skin. His hands are warm and sure as they explore your body, his fingers tracing patterns of fire across your skin.

You arch up against him, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he nips at your earlobe, his tongue tracing the curve of your neck. He slides a hand between your legs, his fingers finding the damp heat of your pussy.

"You're so wet," he murmurs, his voice low and rough. "I can't wait to taste you."

He drops to his knees, his hands sliding up your thighs as he presses kisses to your skin. His tongue darts out, tracing the seam of your panties, and you moan, your hips bucking up against his mouth.

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs and tossing them aside. His tongue finds your clit, circling and teasing the sensitive nub until you're squirming with pleasure.

"Max, please," you gasp, your fingers threading through his hair. "I need more."

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Beg for it," he says, his voice low and commanding.

"Please, Max," you beg, your voice shaking with need. "Fuck me with your tongue. I want to feel you inside me."

He growls, his tongue plunging into your pussy with a hunger that makes you cry out. He licks and sucks, his fingers joining in, thrusting in and out of your slick heat.

You're close, so close, and then he curls his fingers, finding that spot inside you that sends you spiraling over the edge. You come hard, your back arching off the couch as you scream his name.

He stands, his cock hard and throbbing against his pants. He strips off his pants and boxers, his cock springing free, thick and hard and ready for you.

You sit up, reaching for him, pulling him down onto the couch. He settles between your legs, his cock nudging at your entrance.

"Look at me," he says, his voice low and intense.

You meet his gaze, your eyes locked as he thrusts into you, filling you completely. You moan, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he starts to move.

He sets a punishing pace, his hips slamming against yours as he fucks you hard and deep. You meet him thrust for thrust, your bodies slick with sweat as you chase your release.

"Yes, Max," you gasp, your nails raking down his back. "Harder, fuck me harder."

He growls, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he nears his climax.

You can only moan in response, your body overwhelmed with pleasure. Max's thrusts become more erratic, his balls slapping against your ass. You can feel yourself getting close, your muscles tensing up.

"Max, I'm gonna cum," you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Max grunts, his thrusts becoming more forceful. "Cum for me, baby. I want to feel you tighten around my cock."

It's all it takes for you to tip over the edge, your orgasm ripping through your body. You cry out, your muscles clenching around Max's cock. He groans, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he reaches his own release.

"Fuck, yes," he growls, his cock twitching inside you.

You both collapse onto the couch, your bodies spent. Max pulls out, his cum spilling out of your pussy. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"Feeling better now?" he asks, smirking.

You can't help but laugh, your body still humming with pleasure. "Much better, thanks to you."

Max chuckles, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "Glad to hear it," he murmurs, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your thigh.

"I was thinking, maybe next time we could try something new. I’ve been wanting to explore a few ideas with you."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? And what exactly did you have in mind?" His smirk widens, eyes darkening with mischief. "You'll just have to wait and see," he whispers, planting another kiss on your lips.

The promise of what’s to come sends another thrill through you, and you smile, anticipation already building for your next encounter. . . .

[wwinterwitch]

teasing — anakin skywalker

summary: just anakin being a little tease before he goes down on you

pairing: anakin skywalker x princess!fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

tags: smut, secret relationship, teasing, masturbation using panties, pet names (baby, my love, good girl, darling), biting/marking, reader gets slightly insecure, softdom!anakin, body worship, he likes your scent hehe, oral (f receiving), he eats pussy like it's his life purpose, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, fingering

reblog or comment if you enjoy please!

all masterlists | star wars masterlist | read on ao3

Anakin smirks devilishly before his lips press against your lower belly, daring to nibble on your skin in an effort of teasing you even further. His erection feels almost painful, hidden inside his trousers; the sight of you looking down at him as he explores your body, the soft sounds coming from you as further confirmation of your pleasure, and the way your hips repeatedly lift themselves off the bed in clear urgency for more do nothing to help his aroused state.

Whenever he manages to have you like this– all his to enjoy, away from anyone who could dare to stand between the two of you, he likes to take his sweet time with you. With him in his endless missions as a Jedi, and your countless duties as the heir of one of the most prestigious kingdoms in the galaxy, it’s not easy to find much time to be together.

But sooner or later, he always comes back to you. 

Ever since he and Obi-Wan had the difficult task of rescuing you and another group of hostages from separatist forces, he’s been infatuated with you, and it didn’t take him much time to realize the sentiment was mutual.

After many stolen glances and a lot of interventions from Obi-Wan whenever he detected the slightest flirting between you, the two of you knew that the ceremony your father organized to celebrate your safe return would not be the last time you and Anakin would see each other.

The excuse was soon invented. You offered to help your father with all security matters on your planet, which inevitably meant having to interact a lot with the Jedi to keep constant and efficient communication. Evidently, you had chosen Anakin to be the Jedi you’d communicate with if your planet ever needed them– he saved you, of course you’d trust him the most.

Maybe not everyone bought it. Maybe the ones who did still have a few doubts when they realize just how good your communication is. It’s clear then neither of you care. As long as you’re able to see each other with a plausible reason and no one intervenes, it’s enough.

So technically, Anakin was back on your planet today for a scheduled meeting with you to discuss a few things. Nothing else, just following protocol. In reality, the two of you are in your chambers, away from prying eyes. Your naked body rests on top of the ridiculously expensive silk sheets, legs wide open for him to lay comfortably between them.

Leaning back, Anakin grabs your panties to push them up against your core, the fabric folding in a thin line that squeezes your clit in the most satisfying way.

He lets out a low groan when he sees the reaction on your face, staring back at you with evident pride and lust as he admires what a cute little mess you've become for him. Legs spread for him to do whatever he wants, your beautiful body all exposed to his hungry graze except for the panties you're still wearing, a few marks on your neck and breasts from his previous exploration just minutes earlier.

Not having enough just yet, he starts to move his arm rhythmically, causing the fabric to rub against your entire slit. You moan louder this time, looking down at him with pleading eyes as he continues his movements.

One of your hands moves towards your chest, urgently massaging one of your breasts. He smirks at the sight, speeding up so suddenly that you’re practically forced to close your eyes and lean your head back against the pillows. Your mouth stays in the shape of an ‘o’, moans increasing in volume, body tensing in pleasure.

Once he's satisfied enough, he moves his hand away, smirking as he stares at the absolute masterpiece between your legs. "Look at that," he comments in a husky voice, admiring the large stain of your arousal on your panties as his palms slowly trace up your thighs.

Anakin eventually reaches your inner thighs and he squeezes your flesh in a way that leaves you whimpering in both pleasure and pain. And then he squeezes again because he enjoyed your reaction a little too much.

His hand finally reaches its destination, the feeling of one of his fingers brushing against the fabric of your panties sending shivers down your spine. The contact is enjoyable, but you need more. "Fuck, your panties are soaked, baby," he practically growls, continuing to trace up and down in gentle movements.

His fingers stay there, carefully tracing your pussy with your underwear still acting as an annoying barrier that prevents you from experiencing the true pleasure that only his touch can bring you. He looks up at you, lips peppering small kisses up your inner thigh. 

At first you thought he’d keep moving upwards, maybe give you the satisfaction of leaving a kiss on top of the fabric, but as soon as he gets close to where you need him most, his lips move to your other thigh to repeat the same trail he previously followed from your knee to the edge of your panties.

You can't take his teasing anymore. Even when you should be used to this kind of behavior from him, you can't stand it any longer. It's all too much, but nothing at the same time.

With evident frustration, you find yourself rocking your hips against his fingers in an attempt to create more friction. The hand previously gripping the sheets moves to his hair, your grip on his light brown locks tightening when he gets closer and closer to your core. 

He looks at you with evident amusement, silent mockery shining in his eyes because he knows you’re getting impatient. Sometimes he’s feeling particularly merciful and he actually listens to your pleas right away, but there’s times where he likes to make you beg for it.

The disappointment is evident on your face when you see him move a hand to his hair, releasing his hair from your grip before he uses that same hand to push your hips down towards the mattress to keep you as still as possible.

"Anakin..." you breathe out in a desperate plea, practically pouting.

He seems to ignore you for a few seconds, almost hypnotized by the sight of you so desperate, distracted by the wetness he feels with his fingers. It's only when he lifts his head again to properly look at you that he finally seems to pay your apparent complaint any attention. "Yes, my love?" he asks playfully, as if he has no idea why you would be calling for him like that.

"Stop teasing," you whine, feeling incredibly frustrated as he just looks at you. The underwear you’re wearing is soaked and your body is completely ready for him to do absolutely anything, yet he’s barely touching you with his fingers.

Anakin ignores you once again, his eyes drifting down to your thigh. He’s leaning in once again, this time tracing his tongue against your skin before his teeth are sinking onto it without a warning, making you gasp as your back arches in response.

He barely moves back to admire the way his teeth marked you, using his mouth to suck on a spot just below the shape of them. The thought of how pretty a bruise –his bruise– would look on your inner thigh tomorrow makes his cock twitch.

"Is that an order, your highness?" he finally speaks, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You let out an exasperated sigh. You’re a woman who possesses an intimidating amount of power, but you’re completely defenseless when it comes to Anakin. You surrender all of it when you’re with him. 

He has a future queen wrapped around his finger, and that thought turns him on more than anything.

"Please!" you whine, fearing he’ll have you crying tears of frustration any second now if he decides to continue this torture.

To add to your growing despair, Anakin chuckles against your skin. "Now, we both know you can do much better than that," he whispers softly, encouraging you to speak up. After all, hearing your voice is one of the things he enjoys the most; he particularly likes it when it's in the form of breathless words and needy pleas.

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment, not knowing what to say at first. Again, you should be used to him being like this, an annoying little tease, but there's something about Anakin that you'll never be prepared for. He’s unpredictable like that, but it’s one of the many things that made him stand out to you.

He's always finding new ways to keep you on the edge, to make you beg for it, to leave you ridiculously wet before he's even properly touching you. The fact that he has so much patience and self-control to keep his teasing for so long is deeply admirable but also incredibly frustrating.

Your breath gets heavier and your walls clench around nothing in torturous anticipation while he keeps his face dangerously close to your aching pussy, his eyes dark as he takes you in like your the most delicious thing on this galaxy and he just can't believe he's lucky enough to have you all to himself– yes, he likes teasing, but that doesn't mean he's not eager to please you, desperate to have his face buried in between your legs to drink up every drop of your delicious essence and stay there for hours. 

He just likes to make you work a little for it, because what’s the fun in giving it to you just like that? A person used to getting everything they want from the moment they were born should know what it feels like to be kept waiting once in a while.

The way his eyes focus on you, so intensely and lustful, does nothing to make you feel any less anxious. It's both exciting and nerve-wracking; to have him worship your body in the way he does, to feel completely exposed and vulnerable. It's more than enough to make you feel self-conscious.

Anakin seems to sense your increasing nerves, gripping one of your thighs as silent encouragement. "Come on, let me hear you," he insists shortly after, his voice softer than ever, almost begging to hear you say exactly what you want him to do to you– of course he knows exactly what it is, but it's so different when you say it out loud. 

After a few seconds, you finally managed to speak up despite your sudden shyness. "I want to feel your mouth on me, please..." you mutter, reminding yourself to look back at him as you speak. At that point, you thought you might even start crying due to how badly you need him. "Please, Ani...I can't take this anymore."

At first, you thought maybe you should've said more. As your words echo inside your head, you’re convinced that you should’ve tried harder. That they couldn't possibly be enough to satisfy him and he'll probably urge you to keep talking despite your embarrassment. Your thoughts were far from being true, however, and it becomes clear to you when you feel the bruising grip on your thigh and the way he groans against your skin again.

"That's a good girl," he says with a pleased smile, looking up at you for a few seconds before his eyes trail down your body appreciatively. 

He knows you're desperate, he knows you're barely keeping it together, and he knows you're trying your best to put up with his seemingly endless teasing. Perhaps it's time to finally reward you for it.

His fingers hook to the hem of your panties, trailing them down your legs before throwing them to the floor. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat in anticipation of what's to come, watching as he looks at your exposed folds with such interest and admiration, it almost makes you feel dizzy.

Before he does anything else, he reaches for a pillow that rests on the side of the bed he sometimes occupies whenever he can find time to spend a night with you, placing it underneath you on your lower back, raising your hips just enough. He wants you to be as comfortable as possible while he pleases you.

His arms sneak underneath your thighs to hold you, wanting to keep you in place as he spreads you wide open, fully exposing you to his hungry gaze. "Beautiful," he lets out in a low voice as he moves closer, "and all mine to enjoy."

You're so sensitive, so eager to receive anything, that you can't help but moan when you feel his breath mingling with your arousal, making you shiver as you lean back against the mattress.

A few seconds pass and you're once again slightly disappointed when you don't feel more. You were already expecting to feel his mouth on you, but nothing was happening.

When you look down, you're met with the hottest sight you think you'll ever see in your life. Anakin is laying on the bed with his head in between your legs, his strong arms keeping them open while his eyes are closed, simply taking in your scent. He stays there, enjoying the smell of you. 

There's something so intimate about it, worshiping you in that way, it makes you feel just as good as if he was actually using his mouth.

But eventually he does use it, and it makes your eyes roll to the back of your head almost immediately because you've been waiting too long for this. Long, excruciating minutes of him just teasing your body and leaving you aching for more are suddenly worth it when his tongue is licking one single strap up your slit, humming in delight as he tastes you for the first time that night.

He doesn't stop there. It's almost as if he became a hungry beast after the first taste, diving right in. His tongue presses harder against you a few more times before his mouth captures your clit, sucking on it in such a deliciously good way that it makes you gasp for air as you grip the sheets.

The exploration continues, starting to quite literally devour you. His tongue is eagerly exploring every inch of you, moving around to spread your folds to discover every part of you. Your legs would tremble every time he finds your swollen clit, pleasuring you with a hard suck or a series of rapid swirls of his tongue.

You're inevitably finding yourself in the need of rocking your hips against his mouth, craving more friction, but he quickly stops you by placing a hand on your lower belly to hold you down, making it almost impossible for you to move.

He leans back from you just enough, and that's when you're able to admire the way his face glistens with your arousal, coating his mouth and chin. "Stay still, darling," he instructs slightly out of breath, right before diving back in.

You try to do just that, moaning in response to his vicious assault on your pussy. The wet sounds of his mouth on you echo across the room and the fact that he has absolutely no problem with being loud and messy while he eats you out drives you absolutely insane.

His movements never slow down, rapidly licking up and down a few times before taking care of your clit and repeating the process. While he works on your body, he refuses to move his eyes away from your face, wanting to take in every single second of the pleasure that reflects on your features, even having the nerve to smile up at you as his tongue continues to taste you.

With the increasing volume of your moans and the fact that it's harder to keep you in place, Anakin can tell you're getting closer to your peak. The prospect of feeling and tasting your orgasm encourages him to continue at an even faster pace.

He makes sure to press his entire mouth against you, sucking as much of your arousal as he possibly can. The wet sounds increase even more when he begins to practically make out with your pussy, doing his very best to drive you closer to the edge.

One of your hands moves to his hair, tangling your fingers in it as you feel the knot in your stomach becoming impossibly tighter, breathing heavily as you try to keep it together for a few more seconds. "I– fuck, Ani, it feels so good," you moan out desperately. "I don't think I can–"

Before you can reply, you feel a powerful wave of pleasure running through your entire body. A loud cry escapes your lips as your intense orgasm takes over, making it impossible to form coherent words or do anything other than tremble and gasp for air, his name slipping past your lips in a breathless whimper.

Unlike what you expected, Anakin gives you no room to relax, continuing to move his mouth against you just as viciously as before, his nose repeatedly brushing against your clit because he's that pressed to you.

He groans against your folds, the vibrations doing nothing to ease the extreme pleasure you're feeling, unable to take a break as he hungrily tastes you. It's almost animalistic, the way he seems to be entirely concentrated on drinking every last drop of your arousal, not caring that you already reached your orgasm and you seriously need time to calm down.

You try to shove him away, pulling at his hair while attempting to close your legs too. Evidently, he's having none of it, spreading your legs wide as the muscles on his arms tense slightly due to the strength he uses to keep them in place and pressing his face to your core more insistently. He looks up at you with darkened eyes, silently demanding for you to take it.

Unable to do much about it, you continue to cry out in pleasure, the overstimulation and the fact that his attack is not slowing down only bring you closer to come, your second orgasm quickly approaching. Another explosion happens deep within you, making you close your eyes as your face contorts in a kind of ecstasy that borders pain.

His movements finally slow down when he feels you come against his tongue again, allowing you to climb down from your high. Anakin is considerably more gentle now as he uses his tongue to taste your release, loosening the grip on your thighs, fingers gently caressing your skin.

Once he's satisfied, he moves away from your sensitive core. A smirk appears on his face when he leaves a tiny kiss on your clit, watching as your body trembles from the contact. It's barely a soft peck, yet it has you instantly whimpering and spasming.

Your eyes remain closed, feeling the way he crawls on top of your body once again. His hand brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, satisfied with how pretty you look after he gave you two orgasms in such a short period of time.

The blissful moment of relaxation doesn't last very long, however, because you quickly feel one of his fingers slowly slipping inside your tight and wet entrance.

Opening your eyes with evident surprise, you notice his eyes already looking down at you, grinning when he sees the expression on your face after the unexpected intrusion.

"Please," you let out in a soft cry, pouting. "It's too much, Ani..."

"Shhh," he promptly replies in a soothing tone to calm you down, his finger already fully in. "You can take it."

Another pathetic little sound escapes your lips when he adds another finger in the same slow, tentative manner. He gives you a few seconds to prepare, his fingers knuckle-deep inside you before he starts to move them.

Anakin's face hides in your neck, a satisfied groan crashing against your skin when he feels your walls clench. "That's it," he whispers, his movements increasing just enough. "She has to be nice and ready for me before I fill you up with my cock. Isn't that right, my love?"

[carelessweldingdotcom]

I hope you see my words in a good health you and beloved ones .

i am Moataz from Gaza, married and have 3 children. We live under war and destruction. I lost my home and now we live in tents where the situation is very difficult. My children cannot bear the intense heat in addition to the spread of diseases and insects. I want to save the lives of my family and escape death. I hope you will help by donating and sharing my page.

Vetted by 90-ghost

donate and share widely 🆘🆘 1100 SEK = 100 dollars each (55 sek =5$) will make a difference🙏🍉

https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-poor-injyred-in-gaza?utm_medium=customer&utm_source=native_options&utm_campaign=fp_sharesheet&lang=en_GB

Please help the Motaz's family escape Gaza and get to safety!!

Motaz has three children, Mohammed, Omar, and Nima, and a wife, Fedaa, a pediatrician in Gaza. Motaz is a nurse. The two have been helping injured folk in Gaza but need to leave for safety.

Five dollars, or 55 SEK, would make a world of difference for this beautiful family. (For anyone who needs help converting, his goal is 23,782.38 USD or 21,784.50 EUR overall.)

If you have nothing to donate, do whatever you can to read and share Motaz's story and get the word out!! Follow his account (@motaz225) and like and reblog his posts.

This family is currently at kr8,869 SEK / kr250,000!!

[abbyromanoff]

hellloo🤗 i was wondering if u could do a 1850s natasha x f!reader based on ivy by taylor swift. kinda like where nat is a nurse or something and reader is a housewife. nat wants reader to herself. kinda like emily dickinson and sue gilbert from dickinson?

IVY

PAIRINGS: Natasha Romanoff x reader

WORD COUNT: 1124

WARNINGS: death, nat kills someone but not in a dark way, talks of witch craft, cheating, think that’s really all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“Will he be okay, Nat?” She sighed, grabbing your hand and leading you to a more secluded area. You gulped nervously, your eyes falling around the building to spot if anyone else would have sighting of your shared encounter.

“You’re worrying me, what’s wrong with him?” She rubbed your arms soothingly, bringing you in for a quick, soft kiss before resting her forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry, love, I’m afraid the wound is too great to heal. It’s spread throughout his body and is infecting him. The doctors have tried removing it but there’s only a slim chance he can survive, and even then he would live a life of deep pain and suffering.” You bit your lip, removing yourself from her hold and turning, unable to let Nat see the tears that threatened to escape. You never loved him, that was known to her, but she understood your grievance.

“He was a good man, he didn’t deserve this.” That was a lie, and the bruises often marking your body only proved so. Nat would never tell you her lips turned upwards when hearing the news, but deep down you knew she was thrilled. This could be your one chance to escape with her through the woods to the small cabin she had spent her free time building for you. It was the one of your dreams, and your husband never cared to listen, stating he was too busy to build. But Nat wasn’t, she devoted the time she did not have to making everything and anything your heart desired, and she guessed watching her father working tirelessly building homes for others helped her learn a few steps.

“It may be best to say your goodbyes now before it is much too late.”

The following day you decided to visit your husband who awaited his time, he knew he didn’t have long, but he refused to admit it to himself. Flowers were held in your hand from your garden, despite the fact that he never cared to even notice them. Everything you worked hard for he lacked to notice, but you grew used to it.

But what you didn’t expect to walk in on was Nat silencing his screams, and her needle ripping the stitches the doctor performed on. Your eyes widened, and you dropped the petaled object in hand, the action catching her ear as she turned quickly, copying your position the moment she saw your figure.

“Y/N..”

“You’re- you’re killing him! How could you?” You rushed over to the man, and Nat worried your noises would alert the few other nurses or doctors. When you reached for him, you felt his heart slowing to a stop, and you assumed Nat had been putting him through this for longer than you had seen.

“He wished to die, Y/N. It hurt him too much to even breathe, and he begged me to take his life, so I did. I’m sorry.” Your tears began to fall onto his now warm skin, you did not want to feel it when he was cold and empty.

“I just- I can’t believe he’s actually gone.”

“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” She was taken aback when you wrapped your arms around her figure, desperately searching for comfort that you could only receive from her.

“Take me away from this, please, I can’t handle it.” That night she brought you to your home, allowing you to gather your belongings in secrecy. People hadn’t quite yet heard of the death of your husband, but your sudden departure would cause awful suspicion from the townsmen. So, you decided that this would be the last time your presence was spotted in this town, and you were to run off with the love of your life.

“Do you need any help with that?” Nat stood in the doorway of your bedroom, the one you used to share with your now-late partner.

“I’m almost done, I’m only gathering essentials.”

“Really? I took a few pieces of furniture as well, I’ve never been able to afford any of this.” You chuckled, stalking towards her and pressing a kiss to her sweet lips, the action bringing you a quick relief. When she was with you, holding you, kissing you, making love to you, everything seemed to fade away until it was only the two of you left.

“You’re the most important thing in my life, Y/N. I can not even imagine losing you.” You smiled, resting your head on her shoulder as she embraced you in a warm hug, causing you to melt in her hold.

“I have a surprise for you, darling.” Your face lit up, and her heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“Follow me when you are done packing, I have a place for the two of us to stay.”

Less than an hour later you were both scavenging through the woods, giggles leaving both of your lips as you ran, the leaves teasing your ankles as your hand was held by her.

“Okay, it’s right over here.” You both stopped, and she came up behind you with a smirk, her hands coming to cover your eyes as she led you forward. Even in the dark, she knew where to lead you, and you followed, trusting that she would never bring you into danger.

“And open!” You gasped when spotting the small building, and words seemed to fail to gather in your mind. It was beautiful, everything you had ever dreamed of, and everything you confined her in.

“It’s…beautiful. I can’t even believe it,”

“Well, believe it, because this is our new home.” She gripped the sides of your waist softly, pecking your cheek and lifting each item into her arms with ease, her strength always seemed to interest you.

“Here we can grow old together, just like we always wanted. I have a garden for you out back, so you can grow all the vegetables and flowers you wish. There’s a lake not far from here that I promise to bring you to any time I can, and there we can make love on the soft grass while the water sways in the wind. We can marry there, even if it may not be legally, I will still consider you my wife. I want to spend every waking moment with you here, and I will never wish to leave you, my love. So, Y/N, will you take my hand in marriage, and join me as my lover for all eternity? In sickness and in hell, I want you under all circumstances. And even in death, I will be with you, in every universe.”

And in every universe, you two found your way together, just like she promised.

[navybrat817]

I need Bucky to blow my back out. 😮‍💨

Don't we all, nonnie?

You Asked for It

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: Over 700 Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, dirty talk, slight breeding kink, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: We'll call this a Wet Wednesday blurb.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“I’d be better if Bucky blew my back out. How are you?”

You’re certain he doesn’t hear you say that in passing to Natasha after she asks how you’re doing, but super soldier hearing and whatnot. He smirks when he repeats the words in his head. The Sergeant may be an old man, but he isn’t that out of touch. He knows enough that you need him to pound your pussy and fill you to the brim. Fuck you so hard and so good that you won’t be able to close your legs or walk by the time he’s done with you.

Dirty girl.

He takes it as a compliment that you need his cock to have a better day and he’s more than happy to take advantage of that. And why wouldn’t you want him? You both know you have a greedy cunt and find any excuse under the sun for him to be inside you, your body always wet and ready even when he doesn’t stretch you out.

Not that he’s complaining. He’s shocked he doesn’t have a permanent hard-on with you around. Your pussy is the gateway to heaven, miliking him for all he’s worth. Because isn’t it a form of worship to paint your wet and quivering walls with his seed?

So later once he has you in his bed where you belong, he spends a minute just looking at your twitching hole as he spreads your glistening folds. His cock throbs and he doesn’t waste time making you beg. Instead of splitting you open the way he wants to, he slowly and deliberately slides into you inch by inch. You welcome him home with whimpers and sighs.

He wants to fuck you until you cry how much you love him.

But he doesn’t move once his hips are flush with yours, giving you a smirk at your dazed and confused stare.

“You know,” he begins, tracing a wet finger along your cheek as you try to wiggle your hips. “If you wanted me to pound your sweet little pussy so bad, all you had to do was say so.”

You narrow your eyes and purposely clench around him, almost hard enough to make him throw his head back. “Then do it, Barnes.”

He feels all too smug when he pulls out and thrusts back in with enough force to make you jerk underneath him. “Should’ve put that pretty mouth of yours to good use first, but we have time for that later.”

For now, he gets to work.

It’s like time stands still when he pins you down and makes you take every single thrust. He can’t help but lean down to bite your bottom lip, wanting you lost in pleasure. “So fucking wet. Making a mess all over me. Fuck, you take me so well,” he praises, his gaze leaving your face only for a moment to watch your tits move.

Yeah, I'm fucking those later.

“Please,” you moan, trying to raise your hips to meet his. “Fuck me.”

“I am fucking you,” he groans, plunging himself deeper.

“Harder,” you beg.

You asked for it.

Minutes may pass. Maybe hours. But broken moans leave your lips as your pussy keeps opening up and taking Bucky in. Just like it was made to.

“Fuck, baby, I almost forgot what a slut you are for my dick,” he grunts before your eyes flash. You’re not quite cock drunk yet and he only chuckles when he thrusts harder, making your pretty eyes roll back. “Not just a slut. My slut.”

“Your slut,” you moan.

He glances down and watches how you swallow every inch of him. “Fuck yeah, you are. And you’re gonna take every fucking drop of me after you come,” he grunts. That has you moaning before he even gets a thumb on your clit, rubbing it in circles just the way you like it. He knows you’re on the verge of a powerful orgasm and wants it to consume you. “Come. Don’t you fucking hold back.”

He feels your release coat his cock as you scream his name, almost triggering his own as he tells you what a good fucking girl you are. But he’s not done yet. Not by a long shot.

He’ll blow your back out before the night is over.

And if you’re lucky, he’ll put a baby in you, too.

Um. Sorry? Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 28

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

As you come outside, your mom sits on the deck, under the umbrella with a pair of sunglasses over her eyes. You can hardly tell if she’s awake. You hug yourself as you come into the summer light and look around. There’s a bottle of sun lotion on the railing of the deck. 

You cross the wooden planks and grab the bottle. As you pop the cap, your mom mutters. You turn as you squirt some into your hand. You look at her. 

“Do you need some?” You ask. 

“What in the lord’s name are you wearing?” She snarls. 

“Um,” you look down, once more shocked by the sight of your own body. “A swim suit. I... I’ll put a shirt on.” 

“Hey, Hol,” Steve comes out in a pair of lilac coloured trunks, “what do you think? Got the kiddo a swimsuit so she can enjoy the pool.” 

“Oh, you did?” Your mom hums as she leans her face in her hand, “how nice.” 

“Too bad you can’t join us,” Steve approaches and stops between you and your mom’s chair. “Got myself some new shorts.” 

He turns to her as you’re left watching his back. His muscle is thick and you can see it tense with his movement. He’s tall and his shoulders are broad, his arms burly too. Age has only seemed to add to his strong form. 

“Those are nice,” your mom says without much conviction, “I got a suit somewhere but... the water makes me sick. It’s these damn meds.” 

“Yeah, but they keep you going,” Steve nears her and bends to kiss her forehead. “You can be our lifeguard, how about that? Been a while since I’ve been in the deep end.” 

“You’re so...” she pauses and measures her words, “silly.” 

“It’s a nice day,” he booms, “did you try the smoothie? I put some vitamin C in it, too. Should help you feel a bit better. Oh, kiddo,” he claps and turns to face you, “did you want a smoothie? I got fresh raspberries.” 

“Erm, no thanks, I’m good,” you affirm and back away, focusing on spreading the lotion up your arms. 

“Towels are down on the chairs,” he says, “Holly Berry,” he gives your mom a strange nickname, “you sure you don’t wanna move closer?” 

“I needa stay in the shade,” she fans herself and reaches for the bright orange smoothie, “that damn inhaler. I told the doctor take me off it--” 

“Now, he’s just doing his job--” 

“I know. Don’t gotta keep saying so,” she slams the cup down and you glance over as her hand shakes violently. She’s worked up. She sits back as she tries to still herself, only for the tremor to quake through her. 

“Right, well, chill out,” Steve shrugs and backs off, “we’ll go cool off in the water.” 

He turns to face you and nears, “can I get some of that?” 

You offer him the bottle then work at smearing the lotion along your collar bone and around the top of the suit. You bring your hands to your tummy, rubbing the oiliness into your skin as Steve takes the lotion. You notice his eyes linger on you for a moment. 

“Come on, gotta check the temperature,” he waves you down the steps. 

You follow as you continue to work the lotion into your skin. You still need to get your legs and face. You continue across the lawn to the pool and Steve dollops a health heap of lotion into one hand before giving back the bottle. He slaps his hand against his chest and rubs in the sunscreen, his fingertips pressing into his muscles as he works down to his softer tummy. 

You bend to your legs. You would’ve rather a one-piece just so you wouldn’t have to use as much. As you put a light layer on your face, Steve grabs the bottle from where you left it on the lounger.  

“Here, turn around,” he squirts out the lotion into his palm. “I’ll get your back, you get mine.” 

You can’t argue. Besides, you can barely look at him. You’d rather stare at the fence. 

You turn and drop your arms. He puts his hands over your shoulders, jolting you, kneading harder than you expect. You feel his breath fan over the back of your head and he traces his thumbs around your shoulder blade, catching on the tail of the tie behind your neck. For a moment, you think he might pull it free. 

He spreads his hands, dragging them down, working in the lotion around your hips and sides, sending shivers through you. A trickle of sweat rolls down your spine and you draw away. His fingertips trail along your lower back wistfully.  

“Here,” he snatches up the lotion and hands it to you, smiling. You nod and take it. 

He turns his back to you and you gulp. Oof. You don’t know what’s worse. Being touched or touching him. It all seems so... strange even if it’s completely innocent. You’re just helping him. He does have a lot of back. 

You squeeze out the cream and rub it between your hands, hovering them before his back before you make yourself touch him. You swipe your hands up and down and side to side, working around the lotion to full cover his back. He groans and twitches as you come along the back of his ribs. 

“Careful,” he turns his head to speak over his shoulder, “old college injury. Don’t think it ever really healed.” 

“Oh,” you ease up, “sorry.” 

“Nah, you can’t hurt me, sweetie,” he insists and leans into your touch. 

You finish up and retract, trying to absorb what’s left into your palms. The greasy sensation irritates you. He turns as you reach to fix the tie behind your neck, making sure it’s tight as it feels like the suit is slipping. He blinks and his eyes flick up and down. 

“Well, are you gonna dive in?” He asks. 

“Erm, uh, I can just use the ladder,” you say as you tiptoe around him to the edge. You look down into the crystalline water, “it looks cold.” 

“Got the heater going,” he says, “shouldn’t be too bad.” 

He stands beside you and extends his leg to dip a toe into it, “not bad at all.” 

“Mm, maybe in a few minutes,” you cross your arms again, “I’m not a great swimmer.” 

“Well, I can keep an eye on you,” he reaches to tickle along your upper arm, goose dumps rising across your skin. 

“Sure, uh,” you edge away from him and run your fingers along where he touched. His hands are always on you. At least that’s how it seems to you. “Just... gotta build up my nerve.” 

“Mm,” he backs up, “sure, well, there’s the diving board and... I guess you could just sunbathe.” 

“Yeah, mayb--” 

Before you can finish, you’re scooped off your feet. You cry out as Steve lifts you up and launches himself into the pool. He keeps you in his arms as he splashes into the water and you flail wildly. You’re swallowed up as the chlorine floods your mouth and nostrils and you choke beneath the surface. 

You writhe against him, his thick arms around you, and try to free yourself. The knot at the front of your bikini catches your pinkie and you struggle to untangle both your hand and your body at once. You finally come up above the water and gasp as Steve follows, laughing as he keeps his embrace loosely around you. 

“Sometimes you just need the extra push,” he beams, “isn’t it refreshing?” 

You push the water away from your face and cough. As you do, he goes quiet and you spit up behind your hand. You can only taste the chlorinated water as you hack. You look up at him as his hands slowly creep up your sides. His blue eyes are fixated on you but not on your face. 

You look down at your chest, the knot on the front of the suit barely clinging together as you spill out from the fabric. The top merely acts to frame your nudity and you sputter as you try to cover yourself and his hands continue to ascend. You back away from his grasp and turn away. 

“Sweetie, it’s fine, all good,” he assures you. 

“Why would you do that?” You sniffle. 

“It was only some fun. I didn’t know... I’m sorry. I didn’t know the suit didn’t fit right.” 

“It’s not the suit,” you stretch the wet fabric across your tits as best you can, keeping your back to him. “I said... I told you... I wanted to wait.” 

“Ah come on, what good is having a pool if you don’t go in it?” 

“It’s your pool,” you snap, your cheek on fire as the rest of you buzzes. You wade through the water with effort. “I never asked for it.” 

“Now sweetie, don’t be like that.” 

“Please,” you pull yourself up the later, the water slaking off you and threatening to drag down the top once more, “leave me alone.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, hooking your hands over your shoulders, and rush away from the pool. You glance up at your mother as you pass the deck, hooking around to the gate instead. She doesn’t react as her head lolls over the back of the chair and her feet are splayed wide. You should get her inside but you can’t stop. You’re too humiliated. 

You race through the gate, not bothering to close it behind you. You clammer around into your mother’s yard and storm up the steps, crashing through the front door. The tears spring the moment you break the threshold as it sets in. You can’t believe that happened. You can’t believe he saw it. You just... can’t. 

[jeonsbabygirlsworld]

"MEANIE"

SUMMARY: Jungkook is busy playing, and you desperately need his attention, when he doesn't give you attention you decide to have it your way.

PAIRINGS: Mean Jungkook X whiney reader

WORD COUNT: 786

SMUT WARNINGS: 69 a few minutes, fingering, use of vibrator and a dildo, hand job, squirting, reader is a whiney mess, grinding for like seconds, Hickeys, Reader calls him Daddy once or twice.? He cums on her stomach but reader wants it messy, so she fingers herself with the cum, cum eating.

a/n: it's my first time writing about a whiney reader please bear with me. I hope yall enjoy it.Please like follow, reblog and comment.<3 A little birthday gift from my side 💞

You’ve been whining for about a good 10 minutes now, Jungkook sat on the end of the bed playing GTA 5 on his computer which was placed on the table in front of the bed. Curses left his mouth. You’ve been calling him now for 5 minutes while he waves you off saying, “Give me a minute baby”.  

You undressed yourself when he wasn’t paying attention to you, stomping your tiny fist on the bed “Gonna show you now” You hovered above his back grabbed onto his gaming console and threw it in the bed before he could even register what happened you straddled his face strangling his face by placing your naked pussy over his lips.  

Your hips were lifted in the air so he could talk to you “fuck baby you were horny all this time?” He asked placing a kiss on your clit. Humming you grabbed his soft cock through his boxers he lifted his hips “needed you so bad kook” you said placing a kiss on his now leaking tip. “Fuck so wet bun,” he said growling while you tried to deep-throat him “mm can’t take full kook” you cried looking at him over your shoulder “Oh yeah you wanna take me fully?” He said teasing you and humming you went back to try again. “Take what you can baby” assuring you he dips down to take your pussy in his mouth.  

Slapping your ass, you moaned loudly “Turn around baby will fuck you with my fingers first” he turns you around so now you are on your back tear-filled eyes gazing at him “Aw baby choking on cock brought tears in your eyes?” He asks mocking the tears. “Not fair want you in my pussy now” you pouted slowly your fingers coming to spread your wet pussy lips.  

Chuckling he saw your eagerness “Yeah baby gonna spread those pretty lips for me?” You nodded while his fingers made a V-shape while a dollop of slick Dribbled down “Want it now want your fingers” you whined your tiny fingers guided his large ones in your whole while he smiled looking at the site “yeah do it yourself” moving your pussy  on his fingers he sat there doing nothing just watching you help yourself huffing a puff out you groan removing his fingers from your heat.  

The wet slick dripped from his fingers while he sucked them you got ready to get up and take your vibrator and dildo from the drawer testing his patience Jungkook smirked: “Go ahead, baby thought of helping you but not now, help yourself yeah?” He said while palming his cock you inserted the vibrator, and dildo inside you “Hate you Koo” you pouted.  

After a few minutes of using them, you messed up the sheets with the overstimulating feeling resulting in your squirting Jungkook coming on his lower abdomen.  

You wanted more, you wanted his Cock, you wanted his cum, you wanted to make it messy on his cock but no he wouldn’t help you at all why because you disturbed him while playing.  

Sitting off in the mess you leapt into his arms crying into his neck “Sorry kook I won’t do it, need your cock, please Koo” you whined grinding on his wet cock “Yeah baby you promise? You won’t forget what you said?” He said cheekily while you nodded and gave him the cutest puppy eyes.  

“Lay down baby Daddy is gonna fuck the hell out of you now, gonna tell you who is the boss “ 

You lay there crying mess when he fucked you hard and sucked in purple-black hickeys on your neck and broke you apart. Your tiny fists grabbed onto his neck sucking on his neck sometime while you cried “daddy gonna cum” you whined “yeah cum” with that you reach your orgasm while he pulled out jerking himself over your lower body. 

It was unusual for him to not cum outside your pussy “no make my pussy messy not my stomach” you grabbed his hand which was over his cock “no remove those hands from my cock this is your punishment” he swatted your hands away when you didn’t listen.  

Soon Cumming you took his cum on your fingers slightly dragging them near your whole and fingered yourself and sucking on the remaining.  

Huffing he goes back to play game without giving you an aftercare like he always does but you know he is still grumpy from you disturbing his match, while stay there slightly dozing off covered in the mess. You know he will be all right in few, he might even come back to sleep on your plush boobs. 

TAGLIST : @kimmingyuswifee , @jungk97kwife, @httpjeonlicious , @galaxygirl453 , @babysoogyu

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Mirror mirror on the wall...

PAIRING | FWB!Loki Laufeyson x FWB!Avenger!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 1.4K

SUMMARY | You don't see Loki that often, but when you do, it is always filled with nothing but lust. When he finds out about the latest addition of a life-size mirror in your room at the Compound, he can't help but have some fun with it and make you fall apart around him simultaneously.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Friends with benefits, use of pet name (Gorgeous), smut (mirror sex, masturbation - F receiving, fingering, protected sex, squirting, implied aftercare).

A/N | I want to dedicate this fic to @avengersfantasies, who's a big fan of the God of Mischief, just like myself. (Surprise! 🫣) I hope you will enjoy the route I took with this because it was a lot of fun to write 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💚

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | GIF credit to @marveladdicts

Main Masterlist | Loki Laufeyson Masterlist | Part 2

You started a friends-with-benefits arrangement with Loki a few years ago but didn't see each other often. Between you being gone for extended missions and him constantly being needed on Asgard, there hasn't been much time spent in his arms, fucking each other until you can't think straight.

Today, however, you're lucky to have Loki all for yourself for a couple of hours, and both of you plan to make the most of it, especially when Loki notices the new life-sized mirror in your room.

''Hm, I see you got a new addition to your room; maybe we should put it to good use,'' Loki whispers in your ear as he stands in front of you, letting the silk robe on your shoulders slide down, revealing the emerald green lingerie you wore just for him.

The warmth of his breath ghosting over your ear makes you feel goosebumps, and you let out a small sigh as you feel his hands follow the fabric down your arms.

The silky fabric reaches the floor with a soft thud, and Loki can't help but smile as he sees you wearing his signature color; it compliments your skin beautifully.

''Did you do this just for me, Gorgeous?'' Loki asks between kisses trailing from your neck and shoulders down to your breasts before pushing you back onto the bed until you're seated at the edge.

When you're seated, he takes a step back and waves his hand once, and suddenly, the beautiful lingerie adorning your body has vanished, leaving you bare in front of him.

''I doubt I'll ever get enough of seeing you laid out like this in front of me,'' he whispers before removing his clothing as well, unable to wait any longer.

When you see his thick, long, throbbing cock, your mouth instantly waters, and your cunt starts dripping at the sight. There's never been a moment you've needed him more than you do right now.

''Spread those thighs for me and play with that perfect cunt of yours, Gorgeous; let's take a good look at how well you're spreading those folds for me,'' he says, and his fingers under your chin guide your sight to the mirror in front of you.

You do as he says as your fingers slide through the wetness and gather some of it before you find your clit and start rubbing slowly. Your head falls back against his shoulder from the pleasure, your back arching at the sensations.

''Loki, please, I want your fingers inside of me,'' you beg, your eyes trained on him through the mirror.

''How can I say no to you when you beg so sweetly?'' he says, followed by a deep groan coming from his chest, and his arm snakes around your waist to replace your fingers with his.

''Don't take your eyes off the mirror,'' he orders, and your eyes snap up to meet his again after you were looking at where his fingers made contact with your dripping flesh.

His long, thin fingers slide into your entrance without hesitation, and he sets a slow but steady pace, making it difficult to keep eye contact as you melt into his touch.

The moans leaving your mouth are wanton, and you can barely keep your eyes open, let alone fixed on the sight in front of you.

''L-Loki! 'm cumming!'' you suddenly scream as he lets some warmth spread through his fingers with his magic, and it's like every sense got dialed to 10, and you couldn't hold back any longer.

Because he used his magic, it's like a little switch inside you flipped, and you felt a hot rush of liquid squirting out and over the bed, which made Loki grunt from deep within.

''Look at that! Cumming like the perfect slut for me, Gorgeous, I can't wait to fill you up with my cock and pump you full of every last drop of my seed,'' he whispers in your ear, licking along the shell of your ear before pulling his fingers out, and letting you come down from your high.

''Fuck, missed you so much,'' you pant before shifting a little, and your line of sight immediately drops down to your leaking pussy before Loki feeds you his fingers, allowing you to lick them clean with a moan.

When he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, he turns your head so you're facing him, and halfway, his lips meet yours in a tender, loving kiss that has you melting into his touch.

Your right hand finds its place in his long, black hair, and you tug softly, a soft moan leaving his lips as he spreads them to allow your tongue to mingle with his.

As much as you enjoy having sex with Loki, these intimate moments make it special for both of you. There has always been a deeper connection between you two, and even though it may not be romantic, you both know it goes deeper than friendship.

You can't think about this moment for too long, however, because before you can even say something, you're on your hands and knees before him, your chest pressed against the mattress, but your head turned so that you have to look at what he's doing.

He has already wrapped himself up, and before you can even think about what's happening, you feel Loki's hand press against your neck, the blunt head of his cock pushing into you while you moan.

''Fuck, feels so fucking good around me, Gorgeous,'' Loki says, and within no time, he's sliding into the hilt, hitting your sweet spot as he does so, and a whine escapes your lips.

After he lets you adjust to him, he starts setting a relatively rough pace that has you seeing stars and moaning and whining uncontrollably.

''Look at that, Gorgeous; look at how well you're doing for me right now!'' he commands, and your eyes move to the sight in front of you, and the mischievous smile on Loki's face is unmistakable.

Loki's hand shifts from the back of your neck to your throat, and he pulls you to him, his chest firm against your back while his pace doesn't slow down even remotely.

''See, Gorgeous? Look at how well we're made for each other! Taking my cock so well like my perfect little cockslut,'' he groans as he picks up his pace, chasing his high.

''C'mon, touch that perfect little clit of yours, and I'll cum with you; that's what you want, right? Want me to cum in this tight pussy of yours? Want to be filled with me cum until it drips out of you?'' he asks, but you're too far gone to be able to answer him.

Your brows are furrowed, and your jaw is entirely slack, moans and whimpers coming out of you uncontrollably as you find the strength to chase your high.

''C-cumming!'' you pant out, and Loki sets a brutal pace while looking at you in the mirror, keeping eye contact until you clench around him, and he can't hold back either.

With a roar of your name, he shoots all of his seed into the condom, and he lets you fall forward to catch your breath while he falls backward, slipping out of you simultaneously, and you whine at a loss.

Loki quickly discards the condom before switching positions and pulling you close, rubbing his hands softly over your back as he sings softly to you.

You're listening to what he's singing, which always calms you down, lulling you to sleep. He pulls the comforter over both of your bodies, and you snuggle into his arms and against his chest.

After 2-3 hours, you wake up with your back snuggly against his chest, Loki's arms wrapped around you protectively.

''Hi Gorgeous, did you have a good nap?'' he asks, and after a stretch, you nod with a big smile.

''Thank you for coming by,'' you say before kissing his nose and getting up. As much as you'd like to stay longer, you have some meetings to attend, and Loki has some business in Asgard to take care of again.

''Can't wait until next time, Gorgeous,'' he says, and with one last look back and a wave, you're off to your meeting, already thinking about the next time you'll see him again.

''Next time, I'll make you feel good in front of that mirror,'' you whisper to yourself. When you return to your room after your meetings, you see a bouquet of white roses on your bed, another tradition he started long ago.

''Next time, I'm taking you to my palace,'' the note says in his signature green handwriting, and you're looking forward to it already.