#“yep a white man wrote this

[drenched-in-sunlight]

I gotta say I did not expect I’d love Miles this much, enough to look up shit like Secret War and Civil War II reading order, and worse, subject myself to Bendis’ writing of all things (he’s the reason why I stopped being a comic stan 5 years ago. I were a DC/ Superfam fan. You know the beef was BEEFING). Like, my tolerance of that dude now only stops at him being one of Miles’ creators. So that better writers can do the kid justice years later. That’s it.

Like, why is the “r u and Ganke together haha” a whole shtick that comes up multiple times during his run? It’s so annoying and painful to read. Miles can go around being paired up with different girls but the moment THAT question came up you know he gonna be super defensive and >:( about it which, eh, just does not line up with anything else happening in whatever story is happening at the time. At all.

The only silver of light is that Miles actually never says he doesn’t like boys, he just denies ever dating Ganke. Like, he could just say he doesn’t swing that way and the question would have stopped, but he doesn’t. So I know he be running around kissing the punk-est boy in the whole spider verse, ha!

Idk I’m near the end of Bendis’ run and some of it r good but a lot of them put me thru excruciating pain (cringe) so I have to complain about it.

Did I mention I were a DC stan 6 years ago? I were a DC stan 6 years ago so this isn’t even my first rodeo with white dudes writing weirdest things in American comic, but I just can’t believe I got dragged into this again because Miles blinks his bambi eyes on screen and makes me want to rotate him in my brain so I need to know the lore of him in every medium, apparently.

[its-ezraaa]

You know what's actually my favorite part about 2ha? Of course I could list things like the humor, the characters or the writing style, but what really makes it as great as it is... is Meatbun's obvious love and passion for the characters, the world and.. well, everything. It's so blatantly obvious how much she loves the story she created - just look at her unhinged 3AM tweets where she can't stop drooling over her own characters lol (same)

Or the funny little mini theaters at the end of every chapter. There is no reason to write them, they aren't even included in the official English translation. Sometimes these mini theaters are just an elaborate build-up for a silly joke, sometimes she's just bullying her own characters a little, one time she even wrote half a page about potential fanfic AUs for 2ha. I repeat: this is just the author's note and all the fans who only read the official English translation will never see this.

And let's not forget the bonus chapters. At this point it's obvious but I adore these chapters. Xue Meng trying to find a date through some form of magic tinder (and consequentially wrecking havoc in the whole cultivation world), Chu Wanning celebrating his birthday or you know... Ranwan being canonical soulmates who will always end up falling for each other in every universe possible? The bonus chapters are a love letter. Written by Meatbun to Mo Ran, Chu Wanning, Xue Meng and the whole cultivation world she created.

Seeing a writer loving their own work so much just fills me with joy. How proud she must be, how much love and time she must have put into this. It just makes being a fan so much more enjoyable because at the end of the day, I have the feeling that the greatest 2ha fan is actually the author herself.

[moonchild9350]

Drive

Summary: you've been pining after your chauffeur Hyunjin for years. one night, you decide to take things into your own hands, deciding the only opportunity you need is to take a little drive.

Pairing: chauffeur!Hyunjin x wealthy fab!reader

Genre: stranger to lover au, fluff, smut-18+MDNI

Word count:3.6k

Warnings: car sex, teasing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), finger sucking, masturbation, exhibitionism, cum tasting, p in v penetration, creampie (don't), alcohol usage, breeding kink, use of term miss (but not in a sexual way)

Notes: the whole time i wrote this, i was thinking of the song Drive which we all know is about driving only yep lol. I hope you enjoy!

If you liked, please consider a like, reblog, or comment as it keeps me motivated ♡

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

The buildings pass by, disguised as large, blurry objects that are difficult to make out, each one blending in with the next. The other cars seem to be racing with yours, as they speed away to their destination.

You sit in the backseat, your phone in one hand as you respond to messages, your tongue poking out from the corner of your lips in concentration. As you pressed send on the last message, you tossed your head back with a sigh, throwing your phone down on the leather seat.

Closing your eyes, you let the air conditioner that is blowing gently from the vents above your head cool you down, as it was another insufferable, hot day. Your top was starting to stick to your skin, as you perspired. Damn you couldn't wait to get home and shower.

"Everything alright miss?"

You startle slightly at the husky voice, your eyes snapping open as you looked at the rearview mirror, where a pair of brown eyes were peering at you in concern.

"Yes, Hyunjin, I'm fine," you responded while tossing your hair back, giving him a good view of your chest where your cleavage was visible.

Hyunjin nodded, satisfied at your answer, his focus shifting back to the road.

You smirked, feeling a little more energized after the interaction. Hyunjin was your personal driver, appointed to you by your family. Each member had their own, as your family was wealthy and part of the elite of the city.

He was respectable and did his job well, taking you anywhere you needed to go. He was also good on the eyes. You loved sneaking a peek at his gorgeous, long brown hair, his beautiful brown eyes, and not to mention his luscious lips.

You decided to spice things up, as you were bored, but also slightly horny sitting within the proximity of a god himself.

You sat as seductively as you could and sighed again, Hyunjin taking the bait and looking up and into the mirror again to check on you. You kept eye contact, batting your eyelashes as you smirked at the man.

Hyunjin shifted slightly in his seat, his eyes darting to the road in front of him and back to the mirror to look at you.

Bringing your fingers to your lips, you slowly pushed the digits in, swirling your tongue around them, getting them nice and wet. You gently sucked on them, holding eye contact with Hyunjin the whole time.

You felt a jolt run through your body, settling in your core, causing your clit go throb. The thought of Hyunjin getting hot and bothered just because you were sucking your fingers, caused your pussy to clench as your slick seeped out into your panties.

You giggled as he shifted in his seat, as he let out a soft grunt. You knew he was clenching his hands on the steering wheel as you heard the sound of the leather crunch as he moved.

You continued to tease him, licking and sucking your fingers until the car pulled up to your drive way, the vehicle safely coming to a stop.

You withdrew your fingers with a pop, and wiped them on your shirt before grabbing your bag that was next to you. Before opening your door, you leaned closer to Hyunjin, placing your hand on the shoulder of his nice, crisp white shirt.

“See you later Hyunjin,” you purred, squeezing his arm before leaning back and opening the door.

“Bye miss,” Hyunjin said in a deep voice, watching as you slipped out the back seat, slammed the door, and walked away.

He sat there for a moment more, his cock twitching within your pants as he watched how your ass swayed with each step. He’s not sure what just happened, but chose to ignore it as he started the car again to park it in the garage.

You were happy with today’s event, happy that he fell for your charm. You knew the effect you had on Hyunjin, have known it for years.

You know he watches you from time to time in the car, as you walk away, his eyes glued to your ass. You’ve seen the way he eyes your cleavage when you lean a little too close when talking with him.

It will be easy to entice him, to ensnare him within your clutches using your charms.

It was laughable really, after all he’s just a man.

— —

The next day, you needed to have Hyunjin drive you to a small gathering, a celebration for the success of your new business.

You picked out your best lingerie set, smiling as you delicately pulled the black lace over your legs, snapped the lace bra over your breasts.

Picking up your red dress, you slipped it on, the material hugging your curves perfectly, showing off your shape. You topped it off with a diamond necklace and diamond studs, the light reflecting off the jewels and scattering throughout the room in the afternoon sunlight.

You slipped your heels on, fastening the buckles against your ankles. You felt satisfied as you took one last look in the mirror. Grabbing your clutch, you made your way out of your room, your heels echoing off the tile as you walked down the hall, the grand staircase, and finally out of the door.

Hyunjin was waiting for you, standing by the door of the car. You smirked as he eyed your body, his eyes widening as they traveled from your face to your tits. He lingered there before eyeing your curves and your legs before looking back up to your face.

“How are you miss?” Hyunjin asked, trying to cover up the lust in his voice.

“Very well, thank you,” you purred, sitting down on the seat as Hyunjin had already opened the door for you.

You slowly pulled your legs into the car, Hyunjin’s eyes traveling along the flesh. Once seated, you signaled to him that you were good, watching as he carefully closed the door. He got into the drivers seat and pulled away from your home.

You both sat in silence for the ride. You looked out the window, your mind on the man in front of you. You couldn’t help but wonder how his lips would feel on yours, how his hands would glide across your body as he takes you over and over.

You felt an ache form within your core, your arousal slowly seeping into your panties. You clenched your thighs together seeking friction as you imagined how big his cock is, and how he would look as he came, giving you loads of his cum.

You were so lost in thought, you didn’t hear Hyunjin announce that you were at your destination. You snapped out of your reverie and noticed how he had turned around in his seat, his eyes searching yours in concern, but mixed with something more. It was as if he knew what you were day dreaming about.

You cleared your throat and straightened up and opened your door. As you stepped out of the car, you took a breath of fresh air, your mind clearing from whatever that was swirling around in your brain.

“Thank you Hyunjin, I’ll see you later tonight.”

You didn’t hear his response as you had already slammed the door shut. You walked away from Hyunjin and towards the party, putting a smile on your face.

— —

The night passed, the drinks flowed. You danced the night away, as the alcohol coursed through you, causing that warmth you craved.

You were also warm elsewhere, your core throbbing, aching, needing to be touched, filled until you were satisfied. Your panties were soaked as you danced to the beat, the seductive song blaring on the speakers.

Your mind wandered as you moved, wishing Hyunjin was there, his arms on your waist as he held you from behind. You smiled at the thought of how you’d both get lost in each other, letting the music carry you to paradise.

However, as the song changed to something more upbeat, you watched as the picture materialized in front of you, disappearing from your mind. You needed Hyunjin and tonight you would have him.

— —

You sat outside on the step, breathing in the fresh air as the wind tickled your sweat coated skin. You were sipping a glass of water, eyes gazing in the distance as you waited for hyunjin. It was late and you were tired, but you still had that ache and that need for your chauffeur.

As you watched a black car pull up, you smiled, slowly getting to your feet. Hyunjin hurriedly got out of the car and rushed to your side.

“Miss…are you alright?” He inquired, his arms out, ready to stabilize you if needed.

“I’m fine Hyunjin,” you chuckled, gently pushing his arms away.

You walked next to him, his long legs matching your pace. You patiently waited as he opened the door, and slid in, your back relaxing against the plush leather seats.

It didn’t take long for hyunjin to get in and start the car, the house slowly fading away in the distance. You relaxed further in your seat, your eyes drifting up to where Hyunjin was sitting.

You watched as he gripped the steering wheel, the veins becoming more prominent with the motion. You sighed as you imagined those hands elsewhere, a shiver running down your spine and causing your pussy to flutter.

You leaned back as you began to run your hand over you body, eyes closing as your fingers brushed against your collarbone, inching lower until they reached your thighs.

Opening your eyes, you looked at the man in front of you, a soft smiling reaching your lips as your fingers inched higher, the digits playing with the hem of your dress.

You felt like you were floating, not quite drunk but enough to where you felt uninhibited. Every touch was heightened causing little ripples in your belly, your core aching and dripping.

Hyunjin was still watching you, his eyes darting to the road and back to yours. You kept eye contact with him through the mirror, as you spread your legs wider for easier access.

You touched the pads of your fingers to your soaked panties, apply slight pressure on the material right over your clit. You gasped out as you circled the nub through the cloth, waves of pleasure spreading with each twist of your wrist.

Biting your lip, you reached down to remove the offending clothing, dragging your sticky, wet panties down your legs. You tossed them on the floor, and ground your thighs together, your slick steadily dripping from your pussy and onto the leather seats below.

Hyunjin held his breath as he watched you dip your fingers into your sopping hole, deeper and deeper until you squealed, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet car.

He gripped the steering wheel harder, his knuckles turning white as he felt his cock fill out within the confines of his pants. You were a tease, and it was driving him insane.

You knew you had him, smiling as he stopped at a red light, his attention now solely on you. You fingered your self harder, faster, the wet sounds filling the car causing you to groan and Hyunjin to whine.

You chuckled as he shifted in his seat, his eyes on your pussy. With each thrust of your fingers, your palm caught your clit just right, your high approaching fast.

Your moans filled the car as you stroked your sweet spot, the warm feeling in your belly building until it snapped, pleasure spreading the your body as your walls spasmed around your fingers. You thrashed around as you rode out your high, your arousal drenching the seats below. Once you came down, you withdrew your fingers and smiled.

“Enjoyed the view Hyunjin?” You cooed, watching as he blushed and cleared his throat, his gaze turning back to the road, as the light had since turned green.

You relaxed on the seat spent, satisfied at easing the ache within your core. It didn’t take long however, until you felt the throbbing within your core wanting to be filled again.

Hyunjin suddenly stopped the car and got out, causing you to sit up in your seat, shocked that you were already home. However when you looked out the window, you noticed you were not home but in an abandoned parking lot.

Confused, you cocked your head, wondering what hyunjin was doing. Before you could react, hyunjin opened the door and got into the back seat with you, leaving the door wide open for anyone to see.

“Please, please, need you miss!”

You stared at the man in front of you, shock in your eyes. That shock soon turned to a smirk as you brushed your hand through his hair as he whimpered.

“You can have me baby,” you purred as you slightly yanked on the strands of his hair. “You can start by cleaning up this mess.”

Hyunjin looked at you before looking at the seat, the leather slick with your arousal. He licked his lips and whined before lowering his head and touching his tongue to the pool of liquid.

He groaned at the taste before he fervently started to lick up your slick. You ran your fingers through his hair as he cleaned up the seat, your pussy clenching at the sight.

“Nasty baby aren’t you, licking up my cum from the seat. It’s ok, I have more for you,” you said lifting his head up from the seat.

His tongue was still out, his eyes hooded as you brought his face closer to your pussy. You moaned as he attached his mouth to your clit, sucking the bud within his pillowly lips.

You gripped his hair harder, moving his head up and down, his tongue slack as you rode the muscle. You whined as Hyunjin pressed his face further against your folds and stuck his tongue within your entrance as deep as it could go.

Hyunjin fucked your little hole, catching every drop of your arousal on his tongue, making sure not to waste a drop. You felt pleasure trickle through your core each time his nose brushed against your clit, leaving you breathless each time.

You smiled down at the man below you, your heart beating erratically as he worshiped your pussy, eating you out like a man starved.

“Keep going baby, m’close,” you moaned rocking your hips against his face causing Hyunjin to groan, your pussy clenching at the vibrations.

Hyunjin lapped his way back up to your clit, suckling your bundle of nerves within his plush lips. He sucked hard and fast, his tongue darting out to flick the bud left and right.

You were close, that feeling of ecstasy within your reach. You pushed Hyunjin’s face further against you, smoothering him in your essence as the band within you snapped, your orgasm hitting you hard for the second time that night.

Your pussy contracted over nothing, your arousal seeping out with each spasm, coating Hyunjin’s lips and chin. Your fingers carded through Hyunjin’s hair as you rode out your high, little whimpers leaving your lips at the aftershocks.

It was becoming too much as he was still attached to your clit. You weakly pushed at his head, trying to get him to stop.

“S’too much Hyun,” you begged, watching as he leaned back to look at you, his face glistening with your arousal in the darkness of the car.

Overwhelmed with admiration for you, hyunjin leaned forward, pressing his lips to your in a passionate kiss. You groaned as you tasted yourself on him, your tongue darting out to lick along his lips.

Hyunjin shoved his tongue within your mouth, the muscle tangling with yours in a mess of teeth and spit. You reached down to touch his bulge, his cock hard within the confines of his pants. You palmed his erection, giving it a slight squeeze as he whimpered against your lips.

“Please miss, can I fuck you?” Hyunjin asked, his voice laced with desperation. “Need to feel you, please,” the last words fading out softly as he continued begging.

You wanted nothing more than to feel the man you’ve been pining over for what felt like ages. You lifted your dress up higher and maneuvered yourself to where you were on all fours.

Hyunjin quickly got up, unbuckling his belt and pushing his pants and boxers down, sighing as his cock sprang free. You looked back, your mouth watering at the appendage.

You knew he was a godsend but the sight of his cock made your pussy clench. You watched as he stroked his shaft, the sight of the pretty vein on the underside of his cock causing you to leak more slick. He wasn’t very long but girthy, complete with a mushroom tip that was red and leaking.

You arched your back further with a sigh as he brushed his cock through your folds, coating it with your slick. He teased you again and again, as he pushed the tip in just to withdraw it moments later.

You were frustrated and horny, needing to be filled with cock, and you needed it now.

“Fuck me Hyun, give me your cock baby,” you cooed.

Hyunjin grunted before pushing his length all the way in, stretching you out nicely, a mixture of pain and pleasure radiating through your core. It didn’t take you long to start moving your hips, as you met his thrusts, fucking yourself on his cock.

Your moans mixed with his, the only other sounds being the wet squelch of your pussy as he fucked you and the crickets surrounding the car in the night air.

You clenched around him, reveling in the feeling of his cock massaging your walls, hitting so deep you were seeing stars, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Hyunjin fucked you hard but slow, making sure you felt each stroke. He angled his hips so he could reach deeper, his cock rubbing against that sweet spot within.

He gripped your ass, massaging the flesh, his cock twitching at how your little hole sucked him in each time. He was close, and he wanted nothing more than to fill you to the brim with his cum, the thought of breeding you driving him insane.

What would your family think if he gave you his baby? Their beloved prestigious daughter swollen with the chauffeur’s child…his child.

His hips sped up at the prospect as he chased his high. He needed to cum but he wanted you to first. Reaching down and around you, he found your clit, rubbing tight circles around the bud.

You mewled out, being caged in by him as he fucked you, the feeling almost primal, like you both were nothing more than animals. His fingers on your clit sent shivers down your spine, the pressure building in your core, threatening to overflow.

“Gonna cum miss,” Hyunjin groaned, as he continued his assault on your body. “Can I fill you up? Lemme breed you, make you mine.”

Your pussy clenched at his words, the thought of you dripping with his cum turning you on.

“Yes, Hyun, fill me up, breed me.”

With a groan, hyunjin stilled his hips as spurts of cum flooded your walls. At the feel of him filling you up, you let go, your pussy spasming around his cock, aiding in milking him dry.

You were still caged in by Hyunjin’s body, his breath fanning across your shoulder as he came down from his high. He pressed gentle kisses down your spine, his fingers trailing down your skin before withdrawing his softened cock.

You whimpered as you felt his cum seep out of your pussy, the liquid dripping onto the leather seats, likely causing a stain after tonight’s activities.

“Wait here miss,” Hyunjin said softly.

In your periphery you saw him walk to the passenger door and open it up, his hands reaching into the glove box for some napkins. He came back around and began to clean you up before fixing your dress and helping you up.

Once done, he tossed the messy napkins away and cradled your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

You preened in the intimate moment, you eyes lost in his brown ones as you both stared at each other in silence. You heard the crickets chirp, the occasional hoot of an owl, and your own heart beating wildly within your chest.

“Miss….” Hyunjin began, but you cut him off, holding up a hand.

“Call me y/n,” you said, “of course only when we’re alone.”

Hyunjin nodded and visibly swallowed. “Y/n,” he said, trying out the name. He quite liked it and definitely could get used to it.

You thought he was going to continue, as he continued to stare at you, like he had something to say.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his lips barely opening at the statement.

Hyunjin leaned forward to press a kiss to your lips. It was unhurried, soft and gentle, nothing like the kiss of passion you shared earlier.

He pulled away first, his forehead resting against yours. Your mind was running a mile a minute, wondering what would happen now. You’ve always wanted him, but now that you do, would he want you?

Your thoughts were answered as he took your hands in his and said, “be mine y/n.”

You smiled as you let out a little chuckle. “Of course Hyun,” you said, more than happy to be his and only his.

Hyunjin smiled back, kissing the back of your hands.

“Guess we’re going to have to take more drives huh,” Hyunjin said, a little smirk on his face.

You most definitely would, that’s for sure.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght

[hoseoksluna]

LIFE | jhs

pairing: military!hobi x f. reader (ft. namjoon)

genre: slow burn ; tension ; converse high trope / smut, tiny fluff

word count: 8.6k

summary: hoseok has always had a secret thing for you and once he learns you're single, he doesn't waste time and knocks on your door. 

pinterest board: life / playlist: listen / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: mutual pining, hobi is a feet guy, mentions of a partner giving you a cold shoulder and silent treatment, strong tension, praise kink, petting, nipple play, oral sex (f. receiving), overstimulation, slight dd/lg, raw and rough sex, size kink.

note: SHE'S BACK. HOSEOKSLUNA IS BACCKKKKKKKK. HELLO, MY BABIES. I MISSED YOU ALLLLL SOOOO MUCH AND I MISSED WRITING SO MUCH THAT THIS IS SOMETHING I WROTE IN MY YEARNING TOWARDS THE END OF MY HIATUS. fuck, this is way too hot. and i, again, had to take breaks to do something :D actually, i was inspired to write this at 4 am when i landed in my country after my vacation in dubai and got the weverse notification from hobi. :) yep. he ruined me, destroyed me, and i had to start writing. ENJOY THIS FILTHHHHHH. i missed writing abt dd/lg, too.... hehe. let me know what you think. and if you mayhappsss want part two? I LOVE YOU, MY BABIES. MWAH.

Hoseok, at your doorstep bringing in the moonlight before the midnight hour, was not something you quite expected to see when you heard the bell ring. You were lounging around on your couch, clothed in your new silky pajamas that you bought to heal your wounded heart a little, along with a peachy Korean face mask, a banana vape and a vanilla candle that you lit up as soon as you exited the shower. The creamy white sheet is what you were still wearing on the planes on your face when you stood there, taken aback because the man, clad in his military uniform, was certainly not your friend that visited you often. 

Hoseok was a mutual friend. A friend of your best friend Karina… and a friend of your now ex-boyfriend Namjoon. A friend that hated your guts—a friend that could not stand you. 

A friend that would let his eyes linger a little while longer on you upon seeing you on regular night outs and then ignore you for the rest of the event. A friend that would lock his gaze on your intertwined hand with Namjoon’s before narrowing it and scoffing in a private way that you invariably saw through. 

You weren’t stupid. You knew what his deal was—it’s only that you couldn’t do anything about it. You were Namjoon’s for eight wonderful months that were splotchy with the depth of poetry. Words from his heart that would give your life meaning, keep your head up above the surface. You needed those words as you spent your whole girlhood drowning in the sea of FOMO, rowing your arms through the waves of life that never got you anywhere. Seeing the little beauty of day and night of Seoul with your friends paled in comparison with what Namjoon showed you. You always believed that your life would begin with a man by your side—you prayed for it, you waited for it and it became reality. 

But it was not the reality that your body sought in the long run. 

Yes, the sex was great. Significant to your mental development, especially to your female one as you truly did become a woman in his hands, letting the lush girlish version of you die in his palms. As well as the museums, the hikes, the dinner dates that let you in on the complexity of Namjoon’s intellect that you found so profound and full of beauty. 

But as you nearly reached a year with him, your body began to seek more. The flowers beyond the box of your relationship with him—and you knew that those petals carried the scent of Hoseok. 

He liked you. You saw it in the extremity of his purposeful ignorance towards you, in the forced hatefulness he put across, and in the distance he set as a boundary. You saw it, too, in the way he would entertain other women in the bars and glance at you every now and then to make sure you’re seeing what he wants you to see. And it excited you, his interest in you that he kept at bay. 

It was a forbidden fruit that you smelt and smelt, but could never bite into—and it drove you insane. And when he got enlisted in the military, it drove you off a cliff. 

Missing him made you search for him. Not in Namjoon, but in other men. Privately, in your soul. And it cost you your relationship. 

Namjoon was a jealous, possessive man. He would fight with you if you looked at a guy for a beat longer than is necessary and if a half of a smile crept up upon the corner of your lips, he would give you the cold shoulder. An action that cut through you deep enough to make you bleed and you had to put a stop to it. 

You thought talking to him about it like an adult would straighten the road you were walking upon, but like the intelligent man Namjoon is—he knew that what he was giving to you was no longer what you needed. He threw it back at you, using the poetry of his words, and all you could do was be honest with him. Nod your head, tell him he was right, that you were seeking something more. And what surprised you was that Namjoon wasn’t willing to go the extra mile. 

He didn’t consider it. Didn’t mention it. 

He nodded his head, too. And you parted your ways as friends who loved each other and lived an artistic life together. 

And at that moment, a door to your mind opened and Hoseok stepped in. Made a bed, fluffed the pillows, and rested. 

It seems now he has awoken. Rang your doorbell, bashed his fist against the wood and narrowed his eyes at you in his normal fashion. 

An action that weaves a rhythm into that flat, bruised heart of yours. 

His military jacket is slung over his arm. His two black dog tags, hung by a silver chain around his long neck, rattles as the breath of the fresh, autumn evening breezes past, scattering goosebumps along your chocolate-buttered skin. You notice, within the brief silence while you look at each other and exchange words long overdue, that his hair is way shorter. Not buzzed anymore like Namjoon showed you on Hoseok’s first day in the military six months ago, but tousled and sticking out in different directions as if he raked his fingers through the strands a million times over. Your own itch, wrapped around your vape, his beauty heightened by his evident newly-gained manliness washing over you like an icy stream of water. 

You shiver, blaming it internally on the wind, and not on the lightness of the attraction that you feel sinking beneath your skin, overpowering you. 

And that small movement of your body propels Hoseok to speak, at last. 

“I come home to find you single,” he scoffs, his voice deep and raspy, marked possibly by his job in the military. And you feel it marking you just the same, opening windows in the house of your body for that wind to blow in and exhilarate you, help you breathe. “He’s drunk out of his mind, crawling on Jungkook’s lap and you’re here. In your pajamas with a fucking face mask on.” 

Briefly, you furrow your brows, not understanding the meaning of his words. Is he bashing you for not crying your heart out? Or is he bashing his brother for doing whatever it was. Your heart turns halfway, painfully. Those days are gone—those you spent in bed while that broken muscle wept while your body used that time to repose from all the stress it went through, being in an environment it grew out of. 

You sigh, weary of the recollection of that peculiar pain, and show no sight of the turbulence happening within you. “Jungkook must be happy about that.” 

Hoseok chuckles, humorlessly. A chilling noise that erects your bare nipples beneath your pajama button down. Awkwardness slinks down your sternum and you shift your weight on your other foot as Hoseok deepens his gaze down on you. 

Tension settles between you and you use it. You use it, wholeheartedly, as you should have all those months ago. The only thing you ever took advantage of were the touches Namjoon graced your skin with. You’d grab his hand, while Hoseok watched, and bring it underneath the table. Part your mouth, pretending he was touching a sensitive, private place while he was merely drifting his fingers along your thigh. Hoseok would gulp, but he would keep his gaze locked on yours, very much like he’s doing now. It’s the only form of intimate interaction you ever had, save for the heated debates about different things you two did not have in common. 

All else remained hidden in the silence shared between you. 

And it no longer shall. 

If he came all the way here, unannounced, then you shall let fate, one that is enamored with your body, have her way in your life. 

“If you came here to talk about him, then I’m not interested,” you say, letting go of the door and slipping off your face mask, ignoring the hurtful pinpricks along the perimeters of your heart. “If you came here for me, then the door is open.” 

And with that bravery, you pivot on your heel and walk back into the living room, not expecting him to follow you and not expecting him to walk away. You let fate do her thing, and you begin to tap in the essence of the peachy face mask into your skin with quick, gentle slaps. 

You toss the sheet, along with the packaging, into the trash, your hair clipped away from your face whooshing around you with your movement. Kicking off your slides, you hear them bump into something stable, and when you turn around to seek that strange sound, you see Hoseok standing by your armchair near your couch. 

So he did come here for you. You tremble in a different manner, filled with sparks of excitement, and, turning around to sit on the couch, you flush, smiling happily to yourself. 

But all those feelings turn to dust when Hobi kneels by the edge of your couch and fixes your home slippers. Aligns them rightly in front of you so you can comfortably slide your feet into them once you get up. 

Your stomach drops and your fingertips tingle, all of your nerve endings set on blazing fire by that one act of service. 

The first kind thing he’s ever done for you. 

He throws his military jacket over the backrest of the armchair, where he nestles himself. Legs spread, elbows propped on his knees. His long dog tag chain swings back and forth in the sudden, atypical calmness of the atmosphere that you cannot adapt to fully. Not when your mind creates an image of that chain hanging over your face, your neck and your chest when you’re bare and ready for him, laying on your back, all for him to take. 

You bite your lip, tracing the band of your sleep sock with your fingers, and Hoseok’s eyes fall to it. You quickly lift them, sheepish. Distract your mind by opening a package of eye patches and placing them on your dark circles that just won’t leave. His gaze skims over each motion, studying it, wordlessly, and you can’t take it anymore. 

You can’t be the only one who’s brave this evening. 

You take a puff of your vape, inhaling its sweetness, and stare right back at him. A smile, a foolish girlish smile quivers upon your lips. One that you dislike because you did grow out of it, but it seems as though the more you swallow the intensity of his shadowed, violent sea-charged energy, the more you transform back into that little girl you were. 

And the process soaks your panties. 

So much is said in the silence, always has been, but you can’t stand it anymore. 

“You should start talking before I go to bed,” you bite, willing your smile to flatten, and Hoseok kneads his hands. His knuckles bear a faint memory of yellow bruises, veiny and strong as they are, and for a moment you wonder how far his ferocity reaches. 

He showed you little of it. You know he’s capable of doing things that would change you for all eternity, give you a new form that would not wither with age. 

And you yearn for it. Have yearned for it all those months without knowing that was the thing your body sought. The thing Namjoon could never give you. 

Violence. Roughness. The licks of an outraged sea. 

You’re a witness to it sloshing in the pools of his darkened eyes as he chews the provocation you uttered his way. And you can bet he likes the taste. 

“Did he break your heart?” he asks amidst the banana-flavored smoke, his knuckles whitening for a split second as he clenches his fist before relaxing—as if the thought of Namjoon breaking your heart angers him. 

It rouses you, and the way your chest lifts with each breath stimulates your stiffened nipples. The candlelight sways, casting shadows on his worn features, and you’d much rather sit on them than talk about your ex. 

“Did you not hear what I said?” you spit, throwing your vape on the cushion of your couch. Hoseok’s façade splits as he smirks, dropping his gaze for a moment before lifting it back to you. 

He leans back, slouching in the chair. “Answer the question.” 

The sedatedness of his tone stuns you. Your heart begins to thump as well as the bundle of nerves between your folded legs. It has been too long since you had your release. Months upon months. And you’re too weak to not get carried away by these new feelings you’ve shamefully forgotten about. 

The veins from his knuckles travel all the way back to his arms and your brain empties out. Too, too fucking long. You should’ve fooled around with every guy you found attractive, use them for orgasms, make the best of your womanly years, but instead you dwelled at home—in and out of your misery. And now, now it feels as though you’re a virgin, alone for the first time with an older man that enlivens your body. 

And you might as well give him what he asks of you. 

Sucking on your vape for a puff of bravery, you don’t blink as you stare at him through the smoke. You elongate your legs, placing them on the coffee table next to him, your toes facing his outstretched knee, and his eyes, once again, plummet to them. 

“He didn’t break my heart, I broke his,” you say, your words shrouded by that white mist curling out of your mouth, and you watch as his eyes widen en route to yours. 

He didn’t expect that. 

Something about that satisfies you. Selfishly. 

Hoseok runs the pad of his finger across his bottom lip, his head tilted to the side a little bit. “It was about time you did.” 

The searing heat that rushes forward in your cheeks forces your gaze away from him, begs you to look away, but you don’t. A bead of perspiration trickles down your cleavage, one that is visible to him as you couldn’t be bothered to do all the buttons after your shower. But Hoseok’s eyes don’t flick to it. No, he can’t miss this. He can’t miss the gravity of the moment, of the spoken confirmation of the fact that what went on between the two of you for so long is real. You squeeze your thighs together, the thumping in between unbearable, and the longer you bask in his brave words, in the masculinity of his initiative, the more your own poetry begins to rise in you.

If it drags, it’s not meant for you. If it’s fast, it couldn’t wait to meet you. 

And Hoseok notices. It is only when you let out a little, barely hearable sigh that his eyes do travel down to scrutinize your bodily reaction. To your nipples poking through, the shine of your sweat in between your bare breasts, to the friction you’re rubbing—the miniscule grinding movements that you make in order to alleviate yourself of the ache of desperation that you feel. And because you’re baring yourself out for him, he does the unthinkable. 

He lets you see his true face, his façade collapsing at his big, sock-clad feet. 

Hoseok lifts his hips, hides behind the pretense that he’s just making himself more comfortable, but in reality he did it to turn your attention to his lower region. His length, semi-hard yet still long, stands out, protruding from the camo of his pants and you’re hot, hot all over. 

The thumping worsens—and you need him, all of him, to make it better. 

Perceiving that he’s succeeded in his strategy by the way you just won’t stop ogling him, he blushes and hides it, in vain, with outstretched fingers spread across his face. As if he was doing his signature idol move. It’s a riveting sight to behold, a seemingly cold person growing warm from you gaping at that private part of him. 

And you want more. You want to see more places of his body that are flushed. And you want it now. 

“It was about time you and I talked alone, don’t you think?” you ask, following on from his previous statement. All that pining, those stolen glances, that distance—all that tension advances forward now, stronger than ever.

Hoseok can feel it, too. At your words, his manhood grows harder and his breathing quickens. He tries to stabilize it, but he fails. He fails even when he returns to his original position with his elbows propped on his knees. That chain of his swings with more momentum, teasing you, and you place your legs even closer towards him, and upon witnessing the light flash in his eyes, you realize that you teased him right back. 

The man likes feet.

You draw in a sharp breath when he fists both of your feet in one hand, brushing his thumb over the tips of your toes. The first touch in this lifetime, the first time upon your new virgin body, so intimate, private; he might as well have wrapped a blanket around them with how warm his hand is, secure and trustful. Goosebumps flood your skin, bringing in the iciness that you felt when you took in his beauty against the background of the trees and the moonlight. And its beams must be stitched around his fingers because daintiness clasps you close, the notion that you’re taken care of, in good hands, descending upon you like the most delicate feather tickling you, and you let it—you let it consume you. 

And you let his following question consume you just as much. 

“Were you in love with him?” 

It’s a question you never had the bravery to ask yourself in the two months you’ve been single, but it is here and you welcome it. You hear it whisper to you the hint of your answer and your body is smart enough, capable enough to figure it out. 

No need for long nights of overthinking. 

No need for long hours of listening to your heart crack.

“No, I was used to him—that’s different,” you hush out and the moon lowers herself, spilling through your windows, bathing you in a milky light that feels as welcoming, as right as your confession. And maybe, just maybe it’s the way the shining stream submerges in your neediness that drives you to be bratty. And briefly, before you do, you ponder over the fact how in your life shared with this person drives, moves forward. There’s never a still time—and you find that mesmerizing. Enough for you to simply brood in greed. “What’s it to you?” 

Hoseok flinches. Parts his mouth. His chain rattles and his fingers squeeze the balls of your feet, coaxing a hum out of you that is immediately silenced by his sudden outburst. 

“What’s it to me?” 

There it is. Another plot point. Your heart hammers. 

Hoseok lets go of your feet and you lament the absence. Stands up and towers over you, the moonshine soaking him in divine light that causes your breath to hitch in your throat. A faint layer of sweat has coasted along his hairline and settled there—and you long to swim in his bodily fluids. In the persona of his, in the tumultuous sea of the tension locked within him. 

“You’re genuinely asking me this question?” he pressures, lifting your legs in order to step in between them, and the unthinkable visits you once again. He props his hands on either side of your head and those two dog tags swing in your face. 

A wet patch forms in the center of your pajamas. Your breath mirrors his—hasty, deep and strained—and you can’t take it anymore. 

How far into this road of bravery until the moon averts its opaque eyes away from your sin? 

You arch your spine, hook your fingers on his dog tags and pull him a little closer. Breathe his air, breathe in his masculine, musky scent that intoxicates your senses to the point that there is absolutely nothing stopping you from getting dragged in the natural flow of this situation. 

“Yes, Hoseok. What’s it to you?” 

He pants. Glides, delicately, his fingers along your arm until he winds up at your small fist, clutching it in his as if it was his. And that warmth, you want to dip your head in it. 

“I had to watch you sit in that chair and not crack a smile. Sit next to him like an obedient girl, not allowed to speak. To me,” he grunts, tightening his lips, and that anger of his seeps into you, becoming yours. “He didn’t deserve you. You’re not a pretty toy. You’re a person.” 

He straightens but, panicking, you draw him right back by that chain. “Don’t fucking walk away from me.” 

He seethes and you feel your essence trickling down your thigh. That sea, inching forward, you whimper. And then he spreads that warmth over the crown of your head, rubbing your hairline just once with his thumb before he peels off your eye patches that you have forgotten about. 

And this is when your brows curl. This is the time that says there’s no going back. 

“I talked to you. We fought, don’t you remember?” 

He sweeps that digit over that soaked dark circle of yours underneath your eye. “What do you think would’ve happened to you if I talked to you nicely?” 

Cold shoulder. Uncomfortable time of forced aloneness, filled with the abyss of guilt that you had done something wrong. A toy that didn’t move its lifeless limbs right by his will. 

“I’ve known him for far longer than you. I know how he treats those he thinks he loves. I brushed it away with the others, but with you… I couldn’t. You were so full of life that was stuck in you because of him. Because he didn’t let you let it out. And I can’t forgive him for that.” 

What life? The one you searched for all your girlhood, the one Namjoon molded with his own hands until it no longer recognized the once-familiar lines of his palm? The one that yearned for Hoseok instead? 

A film of tears clouds your eyes and as hard as you try to blink them away, they linger, pooling at your waterline like sea foam. You need your vape, you need him inside you—you can’t face the mirror of the reality of that unfair treatment. 

How blind you were; how Hoseok has become that guiding stick. 

“Don’t forgive him,” you utter, grasping his chain tighter, drawing him even closer, making his breath tremble. The first tear that pours out leaks into the print of his thumb and at the sound of your soft cry, Hoseok topples. Kneels on the couch with your legs on either side of him and you pull, you pull him closer. 

“Do you want me?” he asks—a foolish, foolish question. Presses his forehead against yours, cups your face with both hands now while his back shakes and you touch it, you drag your fingernails down those prominent muscles. And he sighs, so desperately, so tenderly. “Do you want me to let out that life in you?” 

“Yes,” you whisper, sliding your hands underneath his black shirt, scratching the lowest part of his warm, warm waist before hooking your fingers on the waistband of his pants. It’s his—it always belonged to him. “Take me. Here.” 

He brushes his nose against yours, your breath and his singular. “You’re so feisty.” Lips nearly touch yours and your lungs give out on you, your air coming out in pathetic staccatos that make him growl, subduedly. Muscles rigid, bundle of nerves devoutly pulsing. Please, please. “But no.” 

The world implodes, the mocking shimmer of that planetary light gushing through—hand in hand with sobriety. 

But Hoseok, the prince of the unthinkable, dips your head back into that darkness. Lifts you by your armpits and sets you down on his lap, his hard length against your core uprearing your need for release. 

A hand sailing down your neck, your sternum, acknowledging itself with your respiration. “Don’t give it to me that easily.” 

Your own cages him there, right at the apex of the fleshiness of your breasts. “Jebal, Hobi.” 

Please, Hobi. You drive, in his fashion, your hips forward—ever so slightly. His eyes round at the mellow variation of his name wandering out of your mouth and wrapping around his neck, as if the gentleness you give him pains him, transforms into a noose around his vocal cords and he can’t speak. 

He sighs, the noise melting into a soft, low-pitched moan. “Don’t beg me,” he croaks out, so terribly strung out. “I’m-I’m—”

You lengthen your spine, closing your mouth over that one spot on the side of his throat that you can reach, silencing him. He doesn’t need to speak—you’re fine with the tacit language of his hands. And the taste of his skin, that fucking warmth dissolving upon your tongue, you can’t help but to moan just the same against him like that, rocking your hips awfully, awfully slowly, driving him to the point of madness that he stood at the edge of for so long. 

“I want you to touch me,” you murmur, tugging his hand lower to the first done button of your silky shirt and it’s him who hooks his fingers over that fabric now. You lick a stripe across the thick vein of his throat, grinding a little harder when you hear him suck in a pained breath. “I want you to feel that life in me and know it’s yours. Jebal, Hoseokie.” 

He grunts, ripping you away from him. You expect his eyes to be narrowed in that typical manner of his, but they’re not. They’re soft, round and glossy, looking down at you, unblinking. A face you’ve never seen before, that feels too, too significant—and you’re not sure if you deserve to get a load of it. Of his pinkish cheeks and downturned mouth, of his fingers agonizingly sluggishly undoing the first button of your shirt. 

Of his sentimentality that you never thought he was so efficient at. 

The sea that has remotely stilled—but you’re still riding the lenient waves, your torso curving with each button popping off as he engraves his warmth into your cold, cold skin. And once he reaches the very last one, he stops. Holds your shirt together, squishing your breasts, waiting for you to lift your head out of the sea water. 

And you do. 

He inches forward, grazing his lips against yours, making you feebly cry out. 

“Did you cry for him?” 

Your cry prolongs, vexation splattering over your arousal, and you’ve had enough of it. You flick your eyes between his, drawing back, flattening your lips in that anger of his that seems to be still flowing in you somewhere. No more, no more Namjoon; no more talk of your past relationship. It’s over, it’s over.

“Stop fucking—”

Hoseok doesn’t relent. Sinks his fingers into the roots of your hair at the nape of your neck to make you listen. “Did you cry for him?” 

Your heart wept, but your eyes didn’t. The tear you shed in front of him was the only liquid emotion that spilled out of you since the day of the break up. “No.” 

He blows a heavy breath of relief that oddly validates you—and light opens in your sensitive bosom. “Good girl.” 

And it is now that Hoseok presses his chest, his dog tags against that light of yours and clamps his mouth down on your top lip, hoisting you a tiny bit to sit you right down on his manhood. His strong arm wraps around your back while the other floats down and curls around your bum, growling into the kiss that he deepens. And then he parts your lips with his, slipping his tongue inside, and the dam breaks between your legs—as well as the quick little whines and squeaks that begin to leak out of your mouth and into his. 

The life in you throbs. 

His cock hardens even more underneath you and he pushes your clit against it, his noises and yours growing louder and louder in tandem until he’s breathless, panting so vivaciously that he needs a moment. A moment to focus on the mess he’s created of you, a glowing ball of rosiness, the prettiest of all flowers—and you feel like it, being looked at like that. 

“I knew you were smart,” he coos, peppering feathery kisses upon your cheek, jaw and chin, descending to the base of your neck. You moan out, fisting his shirt below his collarbones, the continuation of his validation for you nesting in your core. “That life in you will always win. No matter what.” 

You believe him—in fact, there’s nothing left for you to do, but to submit, submit and submit. And it feels like entering a dream that is kind, a reality that appears to be a dream, but is better. An existence smeared with clemency, where you can be a little girl again. 

“Touch it, please.” 

Hoseok hums, kissing the cleft between your clavicles. Shifts forward on the couch so you can rest your spine on the backrest, your head against the wall, and he slides his palms upward from your tummy to the apex of your breasts. You whine, torturously, at the contact, and you shudder and double over when he swipes his thumbs over your still stiffened nipples, buzzing shocks of acute pleasure coursing down your body, rooting in your clit that asks for his fingers, his tongue, but he remains where he is. Transfixed, starving, ravaged. 

He kneads your breasts like he kneaded his hands, with overpowering strength that quickens your blood flow, your body submitting to him and flushing like his does. A sliver of skin that your shirt exposes catches his attention—and at the sight of the flesh of your breasts spilling through, his cock twitches, his breath ragged, eyes droopy and so, so drunk. He pinches your nipples, still through that silken fabric, as if he was punishing you for causing him this unfair pain. 

Knead, flick, pinch. Your noises are obnoxious, his heat in you rising and rising, and you can’t take it anymore. The drum in your clit thuds and you push him away, the pleasure too overwhelming, too good and too arousing. 

And he pushes away the fabric, revealing your perky breasts. A glint settles on the edge of his irises and he gives you a coy smile before he smashes his mouth against yours, moving it in a rhythm that reflects the one in your bundle of nerves. And you grind, you grind like your life depends on it, your nipples and your pussy rubbing against him, against his icy dog tags, getting you closer and closer to your orgasm. And you would come like this had he not physically ripped you away from him. 

Heaving, he focuses, all over again, on the ruination he makes of you. The warmth in you flits so invitingly that you have to touch the places he did—your stomach, your sternum, your breasts. And as you do, you watch his gaze darken, you watch him nod his head, and wipe the corner of his mouth clean, catching his drool. 

“You feel it, don’t you?” he rasps, following the invisible traces you left on your body. Your stomach, your sternum, your breasts. “Right here. Life. Beautiful life.” He teases your hardened nub, circling it with the pads of his fingers, sliding it between his knuckles and squeezing, his smile growing with each shudder of your chest, with each response. “It’s time to make you come and let it out, you ready? Let’s take these off.” 

He tugs off your pajama pants, throws it behind his shoulder, examines the large wet stain on your panties that he coos at, raspily, petting it with his thumb—and you’re so turned on that even such faint touch like that brings you pleasure. You hold onto his arms for dear life, depending on him, trembling when the panties and the shirt are next, tossed upon the pile of your pants. 

You’re bare and he’s still fully dressed. Such titillating unfairness that turns you unhinged, maddened by liveliness your body is diffused with. 

Hoseok pins your legs back. Takes one hand and glides his fingers across your entire femininity, soaking them in the dew he has coaxed out of you, moaning gutturally. 

“He never made you wet like this, did he?” he asks, pride dripping out of him like his masculine pheromones, and with his wet fingers he palms himself. “You don’t even have to answer that. I know. I need to taste you, baby.” 

You don’t even get to fill a lungful of the stuffed, vanilla-scented air and he dives in, keeping your legs glued to your shoulders as he seizes your clit in his mouth, sucking on it briefly before he flattens his tongue all over you. He licks you like a lost man finding an oasis, humming into your heat while he tastes your personal slickness, swallowing everything he sowed. You bang your head on the wall, a numbed pang expanding all throughout your scalp by your claw clip, taking it all, moaning so loudly the whole of Seoul must be hearing you. Even Namjoon in his drunkenness, shameful that he never managed to eat you like this in the eight months you were his to consume. 

Your orgasm inches to you quickly. With half-lidded eyes, you watch the candlelight create sublime, eccentric images on his back. And as if he couldn’t handle the warmth anymore, he peels himself away from you just to take off his shirt, adding it to the pile. He doesn’t let you see his muscular body—he plunges back down, tongue outstretched, flicking the muscle on your swollen clit. He pinches your thigh, your mound, your folds, whimpering onto your flesh, hurrying to close his mouth over you to suck your clit. 

And within that divine suction, you come apart. The beautiful images on his back advance, fluttering on his smooth skin, and you hold him to yourself. The life in you explodes, saturating him in a dimmed, soft-hued, colorful light that he himself must be sensing because he moans, loudly, sinking his index finger inside your clenching hole. You can’t speak, you can’t breathe—you can only feel, you can only take. Your orgasm continues on, a ceaseless stream of delight untwisting in every part of your body. 

And when he begins to fuck you with that finger of his and hits that good spot, your orgasm melts into another one. And this time, you can’t take it. 

You shake so vivaciously that you fall off the edge of the couch, but he catches you. Hoseok unclips your hair and lays you down, propping your hips on the armrest instead and when he bends at the waist and opens his mouth, you scream out your disagreement, pushing him away. 

He blinks at you, mouth sopping wet. “I wasn’t finished.” 

Your oxygen is stuck in your throat, one that gets bespeckled with the beads of your dew. “Hoseokie—”

He traces it, wiping it off, holding you there. Presses his hard, clothed length against your bare pussy, rocking slowly, casting a private, affection-filled shadow with the arch of his body over yours. Hoseok kisses you once, a nasty kiss perfumed with your tangy scent, and you cry out. 

“The fact you can’t take the bare minimum personally offends me. He had you all to himself and he didn’t do his job well,” he mutters, squeezing your throat once. Drags his wet hand down your sternum, grasping a hold of both of your breasts, clenching them until they flush, again, like him. 

There it is, the saltiness of his sea. You yearn for the physical principle of it coating your tongue—for his cum to trickle out of the tip of it like your dew is off of his. And his words, his anger towards his best friend because of you—it heals you in a way you could never heal yourself. Another person seeing you and telling you that you deserve better, it is the most pristine form of remedy there is and you splutter on the whole beauty and compassion of it all, too weak to accept it at once. 

“That’s right,” you agree, as enthusiastically as your dopeness allows you, smiling lopsidedly, heart pounding. “Go slow on me.”

He croons, squeezing his eyes. “My little girl.” 

He buries his face in your neck, kissing you there, and along with the life in you—your heart explodes, too. The finality of your detransformation. Tears of joy ache in the corners of your eyes, the rawness of human fulfillment housing in you for all eternity. 

He kisses his way down to your breasts. “I’ll go slow on you,” he promises, darting out his tongue and flicking it over your nub, making you tremble. He straightens and dances his fingers along your thighs—up to your knees. “Do you want to stop here?” 

You shake your head. Place your feet flat on his toned stomach while you feel your dew dribble down your bum. Hoseok smiles, his mouth curving in that way of his that causes your own stomach to drop. He holds your heels, hooking his finger under the band of your socks and yanking them off. 

And his grin blooms at the sight of your dusty-pink toes, an endeared look thawing his eyes. He rubs them like he did at the beginning of this journey, keeps one at his stomach while he lifts the other one to his mouth. 

Your poor heart skips a beat. 

“Do you want me to fuck you like a little girl like you deserves?” 

He kisses the ball of your foot, doesn’t break the eye contact. Watches your mouth part in absolute astonishment and your cheeks deepen in their hue. And when he kisses it again, slower this time, it wakes you up from your stupefaction, and you lower your free foot down to his clothed cock. Hoseok groans, the sound muffled against your tootsie, shutting his eyes at the impact. Your chest flickers with a sense of pride that you made him react like that—and you want it again. You trail your toes across that length of his, but before you could reach the most sensitive part of him, he stops you. 

Sucks in that pained breath of his, red all over. 

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come.” 

You mirror him, the idea of being capable of doing that to him pleasuring you. You leak onto the couch. Your blood boils. 

“That’s so hot.” 

He chuckles, anchoring your foot upon his heart, tapping it with your big toe. “It’s because you have my heart.” 

Your body ceases all work, as well as time. Even the candlelight pauses its dance, concentrating its caressing radiance on that chain of his.��

And you don’t think as you scurry onto your knees and embrace him, his dog tags no longer icy. He plants his nose into your hair, inhaling you, sealing you into the hug with both of his arms. Your heart reaches its own towards his and they cling to each other, too. 

And you’re not afraid to reciprocate his feelings—they’re as clear to you as that very luminescence of the vanilla candle. 

“You have me,” you whisper into his ear, his body not quivering but stable, safe. “You have my life. It’s more of a treasure than my heart.” 

He had you the moment he so evidently disapproved of your past relationship. He had you the moment he was curious to see if you were jealous when he was entertaining other women. He had you the moment he purposefully put a distance between you and him because he didn’t want you to get hurt by Namjoon. 

You just didn’t know it yet, not until clarity arose in front of you in the form of his honesty. 

Hoseok kisses your own ear, lingers there. “I want both.” 

“Then, have it.”

And he kisses your forehead. “Thank you. I’ll take care of it.” 

You can see in the ivory mist of his eyes that he means it—and so you tug off his military belt as you begin to pepper kisses down the column of his neck because he deserves it, because he cares for you, because he came to you as soon as he heard that you were single. And when you reach those dog tags, the words of his title imprinting themselves onto the surface of your lips, you clasp his cock in your hand. Too big for your small fist, too warm for you to handle—

“Lay back down.” 

You bite into the flesh right above that first steel pendant while keeping your eyes locked on his. “Yes, Sergeant.” 

Hoseok curses. Wrings a sharp gasp out of you when he pulls on your hair, giving you a nasty kiss full of tongue. “Don’t call me that when I need to be gentle with you,” he scolds, sucking on your bottom lip to make it better and you disintegrate. “Right now I would bend you over this couch and fuck you until Sergeant and Sir was all you knew, but I can’t do that. Not when you’re not used to me yet.” 

Yes, the promise of the sea—you convulse from head to toe, pining after it. 

“I want that so bad.” 

He nods, marking you on your neck. You whimper and he groans in response. “And I’ll give it to you, you just need to be good now. Lay down.” 

You comply, but you take him with you—grabbing him by that chain as you arch your back on the couch. He lets you, grins at you like the utmost sunshine, but that expression of delight breaks when a certain realization dawns upon him. 

“I didn’t bring any condoms.” 

You huff out a soft noise. “Good. I want you to come all over me.” 

Hoseok hangs his head low, sighing, on all fours above you. His chain swings, drawing the memory of this very night on your breasts. He looks up at you from this position, his eyes thin slits that cause you to clench around nothing. 

“I’ll give you a big load.” 

You beam like the purest angel, in spite of the context. “Yes, please.” 

Hoseok rolls his eyes back, his façade cracking, and he beams just the same, his mouth widening in the shape of a heart that moves through you. He kisses you deeply, a long peck that breaks you down into a putty, and when he withdraws, you can still see that smile plastered on his glowing face. 

“Good girl. Such good manners.” 

And with that praise, he sheathes himself inside you. You both gasp in union, entering a paradise no other human will ever witness in the afterlife. He stretches you out, slowly, careful not to hurt you as he waits it out, petting your hair in the meantime. 

“I can feel you stretching around me, fuck. You’re so warm, so tight for me,” he rasps, panting, that smile trembling on his lips as he tries to keep it together. He straightens, pinches your nipple and you feel yourself accommodating him quicker at that sudden electricity of pleasure, at the sight of his toned body and that chain. The shine of sweat, the dance of the candlelight, the width of his shoulders and carmine chest as it heaves in desperate hums and groans. You could come just from that—and the sensation is so dizzying that your eyes droop. Hoseok notices, grappling the crook between your neck and shoulder. “Stay with me, baby, you can take this. I’m gonna make you feel so good and you’re gonna come on this cock.” 

Those hums of his cruise all the way to your mouth as he sinks that encouragement into it, kissing you deeply, pinning your hands back above your head and sliding his fingers into a celestial intertwinement with yours. They throb within you, those words of his, where they disperse all around, helping you believe that you truly can take the whole manliness of him. Your mind spins, the pressure of your shared atmosphere ringing in your ears, and he knows, he knows that you’re ready for him.

“I’m gonna start moving now. Talk to me, baby. Tell me everything you’re feeling as I fuck you,” he murmurs, unsheathing himself a tiny bit before he curls his hips forward and upwards, creating a languid, spine-tingling rhythm that replicates the waves of his sea. They slosh to and fro with every slow stroke and he kisses your good spot with the tip of his cock. Your eyes flutter open and close, rolling like those waves, but you can still see the way his jaw is clenched, his gums on full show as he seethes in his self-control, the flush of his neck and the flexing of his abdomen that you can’t help but to touch in your otherworldly daze. He stares down at you, intensely, narrows his eyelids and furrows his brows when he feels your touch, and you discover that the spot, where his V-lines lead to your antidote, is one of uttermost sensitivity. 

He moans, burying himself deep in you, and stopping there. Mound to mound, soul to soul.

“Fuck, baby, you just know where all my spots are, don’t you?” he asks, his voice so terribly strained, torso doubled over, and you grin. 

“I think I was born already knowing them,” you flirt and Hoseok pounds into you for it—a singular thrust that scrambles all your brain cells. Your smile falls, your brows crunch, your throat utters such whiny noise that he himself grunts at the sound of it, and when you lift yourself onto your elbows to see his length driving in and out of you, he pushes you right down by your throat, kissing you hard enough that it hurts.

And he alleviates the lip lock by licking over your tongue, toying with it—all while he, little by little, picks up the rhythm, fucking into you with a force that coaxes your rawest moans out of you. 

“You can’t handle my tongue and I can’t handle it when you flirt with me,” he scoffs, smacking his mouth as he turns his head, claiming your mouth, claiming you. “God, I wanna destroy you so bad.” 

Your cry is cut out by another savage thrust and you claw at that sensitive spot of his, inciting him to do it again and again. “I’m yours to destroy.” 

He pauses, the crown of his cock teasing the beginning of your heat. Sweat drips down his temple and he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that makes your heart twitch in absolute sensuality and relish. 

“Say that again.” 

Your breath hitches. “I’m yours to destroy.” 

Hoseok curses, driving into you all the way. You whine out, clenching your fists, feeling every ridge and every vein of his cock glide forwards and backwards along your walls. And by tensing your body and focusing on the delight he’s gracing your body with, the build-up of your orgasm announces its presence.

“Fuck, Hobi, you feel so good,” you cry, gripping his forearms as he begins to hold your waist steady. He jackhammers into you so viciously that your vision scatters with a creamy hue of ivory, moaning in ragged staccatos that influence you so much that you naturally imitate them, fading into him, becoming one. 

“Whose are you?” he growls without interfering with the gracefulness of his sadism, moving back only an inch before slamming back into you, bruising your cervix—and you lose all brain cells, the synapses blanking out. 

But only one thing is clear. 

“I’m yours.” 

And the following snap of his hips drives you out of this world and out of this universe. The gravity keeps your muscles tense, confining your pleasure and the closeness of your orgasm within. The ringing grows in volume and you’re on the cusp. 

Hoseok is, too, because he begins to beg. 

“Please, please, baby. Come for me. I’m so fucking close for you. Please, I’m gonna come all over you.” 

And with a scream that vibrates through the walls of your living room, you comply. Your core grips him, your skin prickles and you levitate—your back arches off the couch, aching to be closer to him, and Hoseok whines. 

Pulls out, straddles you, and fist-fucks his shaft with frantic, frenzied motions. Covers you with ropes and ropes of his cum that ripple on your stomach, your sternum and your breasts as you drift in and out of consciousness. Warm, warm essence of his masculinity that is warmer than the rest of him. 

Blood-hot. 

And you feel as though you deserved every drop. 

Deserved to see the beauty of his orgasm. The flush of his lower regions, especially. The sight you longed to see. 

Hoseok lets go of his manhood, his hand shiny and wet, though he’s still hard, reaching the beginning of your parting lungs with how big he is. Bigger than Namjoon, bigger than anyone you ever dated. Their names wither in your mind, decomposing. And they lose all meaning. 

They cease to exist. 

You’re not his best friend’s ex. You’re not anyone’s ex—

“Look at how little you are,” Hoseok comments, interrupting the surge of your maddened thoughts. He smears the puddle of cum on your stomach that his cock can reach and your pussy flutters in constant motions that ask for him again. “So little under me and all mine, aren’t you?” 

His avowal brings a fresh dose of oxygen into your lungs and you breathe it in. Want to breathe it in for the rest of your life with him. 

But Hoseok doesn’t stop there. Once you agree with him by the nod of your head and a dopey, gratified grin that casts an affirming light on him, he bends over you, his fists on either side of your head. 

“I’ll show you what true possessiveness looks like. The world will burn if it hurts you and if people say one bad word to you, it will be the last one they ever said. But they will talk to you and you will talk to them. You will learn about this life of yours. What it holds, what it looks like. And I’ll be standing beside you and I’ll watch over you. Learn it, live it with you.” 

He rubs your forehead with his thumb in a fond gesture. Looks at you with a mute meaning that touches your heart and crawls inside before he kisses you, relaxes his lips against yours, and kisses you again. 

Again and again. 

Again in the shower. Again in your bed when you’re riding him, tasting the life he let out of you, because you blazed up with desire after you washed his body. And the sex is quiet, smothered with those kisses until your mouth and his is numb. 

And again throughout the years you acknowledge yourself with that life and realize that you understand it more profoundly and clearly in the process of getting to know Hoseok than this world. 

Hoseok is that life. 

And you kiss him and whisper those words onto his mouth when you marry him at the altar, years and years later, connecting your life and his forever. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[samuelsdean]

The Dangers of Tennis Skirts

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: “you know, reid,” you said, “guys ask girls out on a date before they bury their faces into their thighs.”

genre: fluff

word count: 817

author's notes: this is my first ever blurb! i wrote this to practice writing blurbs & writing this was so fun. also, i hope anon doesn’t mind that i wrote this with a fem!reader in mind & reader noticing spencer getting flustered. i just think it would be a lot funnier that way. thank you for this cute request, anon! i got to practice writing blurbs and it's about shy!spencer? a win for me! i hope you'll love this ♡

“REID, YOU OKAY?” Morgan asked the younger male.

Despite his blatant intelligence and many talents, Spencer Reid is just a man. And just like any hot-blooded guy out there who is interested in exploring the curves and dips of a woman’s body, Spencer can’t help but have his IQ slashed down to sixty, or whatever it was Emily said before. And unfortunately for him, hiding the effect of seeing you in a short, white tennis skirt for the first time is not one of Spencer’s talents.

“Yep,” Spencer said, popping the p as he tried to stop his ogling—cue the word, stop—but failed magnanimously, eyes wide, pulse racing, and mouth gaping. 

Morgan frowned at the doctor's weird behavior. Usually, when asked how he is, Spencer would go on tangents that would be relevant to the conversation at hand. A single Yep! would not suffice for the boy genius.

Something is going on with him, Morgan thought. 

Worried but still weirded out by Spencer, Morgan followed his line of sight and guffawed at what he found. You just entered the bullpen in a fluffy beige sweater, a white tennis skirt, and with your hair tied with a white ribbon. 

"Oh, pretty boy," Morgan exclaimed between chuckles. "You are hopeless!" 

"Who's hopeless?" Garcia, who just sat on one of the chairs available, interjected. 

Morgan continued chuckling and motioned to Spencer, whose eyes were about to fall out of their sockets, and then pointed at you just entering the area. Garcia gasped in happiness. She always thought you and boy genius would make the perfect couple. 

And like Spencer, Garcia has many talents. One of which is playing Cupid.

Making the most out of Spencer’s inattentiveness—busy staring at you—Garcia made quick work of calling you over to talk about your cute outfit.

“Hey, Y/N!” Garcia blurted out. “I love LOVE your outfit. We all do.”

She made sure to gesture at Morgan and definitely at Spencer. “Right, boy genius?”

This interrupted Spencer in reverie and unfortunately for him, he’s not the most subtle when he’s back from being lost in thought.

“Are you okay, Reid?” You asked, none the wiser at the obvious display of Spencer getting distracted by your outfit, specifically, your skirt.

Spencer’s eyes widened at your concern. Frightened you’d find out the reason he was dazed was because of you, he instantly stood up from his seat, failing to notice that an electric cord was stuck beneath the chair. And with his quick scrambling, coupled with the fact that his reflexes are akin to that of a toddler just learning to walk, Spencer ended up falling face-first into the floor.

At his clumsiness, Morgan snickered loudly, earning him a slap from Garcia with a matching, “You are not helping at all!” And a glare from you to which he raised his arms in defeat. You held your palm out for Spencer to reach, who was busy trying to dust off his pants, not noticing it was you helping him up until he looked up. 

Aside from talents, Spencer was blessed with the gift of hard luck. And unfortunately for him, it seemed his hard luck always tripled in front of a pretty girl—you. Because instead of looking into your eyes when he looked up, his eyes landed on the plush softness of your thighs, which you haven’t failed to notice.

Spencer never wanted to dig a hole and jump in it so badly before today.

You were already giggling, cheeks reddening at the thought of your effect on the genius. Imagine reducing a cute guy with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory to a clumsy mess on the floor. Quite flattering, especially if he happened to be the guy you have been crushing on for quite some time now. Not that he knew that, of course. But a girl has gotta take her chances, right? And what better way to tease the hell out of your crush than when he was face-first into your thighs?

“You know, Reid,” You said coolly, “Guys ask girls out on a date before they bury their faces into their thighs.”

Spencer’s eyes bulged out even more while Morgan was belly laughing at this point, Garcia right behind him, giggling in delight. 

“I-I uh,” Spencer began to ramble, trying to come up with a tangent that could get him out of this mess, failing to remember that just like him, you were gifted with many talents as well. And that is making the most out of an unfortunate—not unfortunate, your crush is face first on your thighs!—situation.

“Sorry, Spence,” You chortled, ruffling his hair. “You’re not getting out of this one. We are going out after this case.”

This got Morgan falling out of his chair in laughter, Garcia giggling along, and Spencer’s pinkened cheeks resembling an actual tomato with their redness.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

The other day I was reading about the “mail-order brides” during the Gold Fever/Gold Rush in USA. Men ordered/purchased a wife via mail, and one of the many reasons some of them did that was because of loneliness, and I couldn’t help but think “yep, that would be König”. Just imagine him living alone in his farm or ranch, he only goes to town once a month to buy essential supplies, hides his face, and barely socializes with folks. But deep inside he is just a lonely man who desires a family, and a woman to call his (and one who can help him with his… needs) But he is socially inept, so he takes the easy route and orders himself a wife, that way he doesn’t have to bother with interacting with other people and gets himself a pretty wife

Oh my god 💞

König wanting to wed and bed her the minute she arrives by train... She thought he would court her for a while before they marry, she thought they would do this decently, that they would get to know each other first, she’d rent an apartment from the small town and then decide if she wanted to live with him…

But he says everything’s settled, he already took care of everything, they’re getting married today and spend their wedding night in the saloon before leaving for his settlement tomorrow.

She’s too bewildered to even speak, so it's no wonder she gets herded to the altar right away, a pretty, meek little bride is just what König ordered! Gets wed to this giant hulking gold digger while still wearing her traveling clothes, the priest only looks drunk and bored as she peeps her vows. The man she's now wed to looks down at her with unbridled affection and curiosity, but soon enough, she catches him eyeing her waistline, her bust, the corset she wears feeling tighter still by his indecent stare.

He's far from a gentleman, and dresses like a weather-worn cowboy, and she suspected as much from the way he wrote and how unpolished his handwriting was. But at least he seems kind. If anything, he's smitten that she’s not some old hag who deceived him by claiming to be an unmarried young lady, that she is everything and more he wished for based on the few letters they exchanged.

The wedding is over in a few minutes, and there’s no coffee and cake, no party under some big tree, no relatives or friends to congratulate her on her wedding day. There’s only this huge, intimidating man who looks at her like she just dropped down from heavens, his eyes slowly sparking aflame with both softness and lust.

He takes her to the saloon to eat, and then she finds herself in a greasy little room upstairs, changing into her white nightgown, getting ready to sleep and only sleep, but her nightmare of a day is not over yet. Her hand flies over her mouth, she nearly screams as she turns around and finds this horrible man of lowly European descent thoroughly naked behind her.

She’s in so much trouble, that much was certain from the minute he saw this man, but seeing his… equipment in the dim candle light of the old saloon is too much after everything she's gone through. She's verily about to faint.

It’s just her luck to dream of adventures and a happy, exciting new life and then find herself thrown into the arms of some barbaric, foreign giant... He said he’s looking for a companion in life and hinted at being a little lonely, but men who wish to court a lady don’t do it like this: by dragging them to the altar and then presenting their cocks to them before even two hours have passed!

The rowdy noise of cancan downstairs is a filthy backdrop to seeing a naked man for the first time in her life, and she never knew male parts could be so... big. Or jumpy. Or leaky... This man is clearly serious about this commitment, and thinks there’s no need to get to know each other, she’s his wife now and they need to consummate the marriage right away.

He’s breathing heavily while grabbing that weeping weapon in his fist, telling her she’s more beautiful than he ever even imagined. He pleasures himself slowly while watching her try to cover herself in her thin, faintly translucent gown, and she still can't find any words – the man is behaving like a scoundrel or a highwayman, not at all like the sharp dressed, eloquent gentlemen she's grown used to in the city. The slick sounds of lewd fapping are accompanied by moans of how she’s the answer to all his prayers, and her hair stands on end, she feels like she’s walking on tar here in the distant frontier with nothing but greedy men and drunken brothel keepers around her, now face to face with a giant, throbbing cock out of all things...

She coldly orders him to sleep on the floor while she takes the bed – she’s not letting this nasty, hairy beast near her anytime soon, not when she still has her wits about her. Defeated when she won’t let him “consummate their love” tonight, the man withdraws to sleep on the floor with a sullen groan and a long sigh.

She never sleeps a wink that night in fear of finding him by her side, groping his way through her dress, but to her surprise this man only snores on the floor as if he's used to sleeping there.

Civilization is far away when he leads her to his shack the next day and shows her the first small specks of gold he has found, apologizing for the state of his abode so unkempt and unclean. She has to give it to him that he's indeed kind and doesn’t want to make her suffer unduly, because the table and the bench are wiped in a hurry before she sits down, as if she’s a queen visiting a humble subject. He makes her a bath next to the fire and washes in the water after her, giving her flirty, promising smiles throughout the whole splashy ordeal.

Before long, the giant cock is presented to her again as the man excitedly waits for permission to take her, telling her he has never seen anything like her, that she makes his heart run wild.

The only thing running wild in her sour opinion is his cock, bouncing up and down from the need to be inside her, nearly leaking seed on the floor she suspects she has to wash and scrub tomorrow anyhow as his wife. Evening after evening, she rejects his advances, but after a week or two, her will breaks.

She tells herself it’s only out of pity that she lets him finally crawl over her and lift her gown, that it’s only to stop the man from spiraling into madness that she allows him to test how nicely that thick, leaky cock glides through her folds.

“You’re wet, Sonnenschein,” he pants with happy excitement when she notices her swollen, sloppy state, then plunges his cock deep into his wet little prize with a filthy moan. He tells her she’s tight and hot, and takes her like she’s some kind of an angelic whore, falls panting all over her breasts when he’s sated and done, says that she’s his salvation and that he’ll do anything to make her feel at home here.

She feels exactly like a desperate mail order bride, lured here with the promise of a good life and gold, but when she starts to wait for him to come home instead of dreading the end of the day, that's when her hell truly begins.

It just won't do to start wanting him, to trick her heart to be content with whatever this is. To enjoy his "love" would be even more shameful than anything else so far. The truth of the matter is that she's tormented by a lustful, wild man who takes her on her knees or on her stomach like an animal while moaning about how tight she is, how soft she is, how he can’t concentrate at work because of her.

But when he groans that he loves her just before he cums, she feels a distant sting near her heart, a burst of a small bonfire somewhere in her gut from his words. Far from romantic, but so authentic and pure they’re ripped out of him with a pathetic, cry-like moan.

And just when her heart is about to turn and grow full with softness, he barges in and takes her standing, needy after work, deciding that she looks far too alluring while stirring the stew over the fire. His sunshine of a wife waiting for him with warm food and a soft little cunt, it's exactly like it was always meant to be in his dreams... He’s kind and attentive, but doesn’t know a thing about ladies and that they’re not supposed to be taken by the fire like this, but the dramatic pout on her lips turns into a helpless grimace before this animal has given her three full thrusts.

And it’s only by accident, she tells herself, that it happens. It’s only a coincidence that she finds herself short of breath and shivering, then crying with pleasure from the way his cock sails inside her, hasty and needy as if she’s nothing but a momentary relief for this man.

But she knows she’s far from that. He always stays after the hurried lovemaking – if you could call it that – swallows and tells her things that are supposed to be sweet, perhaps. He whispers loving nonsense in her ear with a stupid, quivering voice, tells her that she’s so tight he’s about to lose his mind. That she brightens up his life and makes this shack a home, a palace, even. That he wants to give her children and grow old together.

She prays the heavens to save her from such a future, but when she accidentally comes with his cock inside her, the man breaks down entirely. Repeats the awful, pathetic “I love you” until he comes, too, and sounds like a man who's getting his sould ripped apart from his bones. It’s sinful lunacy what he’s doing to her in that shack, and dares to sprinkle it with love out of all things, and she doesn’t know if she hates him, or if she loves him too.

Annulling this marriage is nearly impossible, and the sooner he gets her pregnant, the sooner she’s even more trapped, just like the poor rabbits this man lures into the snares placed around the shack. He spends every little speck of gold to buy her silks, satins and gowns, proper woolen scarves and soft little leather shoes, gives her a gentle kiss every morning before he leaves to wash gold. Every evening after meal, he praises her cooking skills and then takes her on the creaking old bed like she's a common whore. The silly, girlish dreams of being whisked away by a mysterious, romantic gentleman are somewhere far away when this giant spills his seed inside her with a thick, arduous groan, then proceeds to cover her in kisses too sweaty and hot.

“I know you don’t love me,” he whispers between the one-sided sucking and nibbling that’s about to make her cry. “But I will make you happy... I swear it, on my life.”

She can only stare at the ceiling, filled with the dancing flames of the fire as he falls asleep with his cock still inside her, the soft snore on her breasts both happy and sad.

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

HAIII :3 I absolutely loveddd the love quirk fic you wrote for Hawks and I was wondering if you could make part two but it's Hawks that gets hit this time🗣️

Enjoy 🫡

I’d never mind

Pairing: Hawks x Reader

Warnings: Language, slight smut/suggestive, Hawks gets supperrrr clingy

Word Count: 3.5k

Click click click

The keyboard chirped as your fingers glided over its surface, lowering themselves just slightly every so often on a specific key. Almost like magic, the letters appeared on the screen, each one following the other in tandem as they melded together and formed the sentences you desired. 

Click click click

You paused, eyes grazing over the screen in contemplation, your thumb slowly finding its way to your pointer finger to fidget in the short spout of reprieve.

Writing emails had never been very interesting, especially since most of them consisted of you attempting to come up with the most creatively professional ways of conveying ‘screw off.’

Although not unusual, the shady paparazzi sending in emails for a much too personal interview always left your boss annoyed. He had actually given you the go ahead to tell them to mind their own business, an opportunity that had unfortunately bothered your well-mannered temperament far too much, so you were left to do the proper tweaking. 

After years of schooling, you would have been perfectly content to avoid writing anything longer than a paragraph all together. Regardless, the unusually high pay tethered to the application for the number two’s secretary was much too alluring to pass up.

Working for Hawks had been surprisingly enjoyable, although you did have to get used to the smell of fried chicken wafting through the lobby every afternoon. 

And the quiet attraction you held for him gnawing at your conscience.

Without mentioning his level of physical appeal, which was most definitely high, he had been quite friendly and kind to you, a far cry from what you had to endure from previous employers.

Seeing as you had found yourself working predominantly in the customer service industry, though, maybe that wasn’t so impressive. 

Each flirtatious remark he shot your way left you craving more, although you were determined not to let it get to your head, especially with all the tabloids going on and on about his playboy lifestyle. 

It wasn’t like it made you important.

With a sigh, you pressed the ‘period’ key, sitting back to inspect your work with a thoughtful eye.

After taking a moment, you found yourself fairly satisfied with the contents, clicking send and slouching into your chair with another breath. 

A peaceful silence echoed through the agencies entryway, wrapping its arms around your mind and weighing down your eyelids with a gentle pull. 

It was nice, tranquil.

The doors burst open. 

You stood, fully expecting blood or a broken bone to come along with the gaggle of yelling. There had been a few times where an upcoming pro had entered through the door with battle injuries, and if this was one of those instances, you were sure it wouldn’t be the last.

Today, though, everyone seemed fine.

Hawks, along with the small group of heroes behind him, appeared to be absolutely unharmed.

Hands in his pockets, he walked backwards, words geared towards the long, white eared woman yelling from behind him. “-worries too much.”

“Uh,” you cleared your throat. “Is everything okay?”

Mirko scoffed. “Yep. I just work with an idiot.”

It hadn’t taken long to adjust to the woman’s straightforward attitude, especially since most insults weren’t directed at you. Surprisingly, the hero seemed to have taken a liking to you, something strikingly close to what you may have defined as friendship, so you were content to sit back and watch her quarrel with Hawks instead.

The man in question threw his coworker a vulgar gesture before turning around to face you, freezing as his eyes met yours.

You shuffled your feet, becoming self conscious as his full attention seemed to pierce through you.

“Are you oka-”

Pushing off the balls of his feet, Hawks shot forward, clearing the large expanse of the lobby within seconds.

The action barely registered in your mind before he reached you, hands sliding underneath your back and knees as he pulled your body into his, lifting the two of you in the air.

Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck, tightening as your stomach dropped.

It wasn’t until your shoes touched the marble that you loosened your grasp. The one Hawks held on you didn’t seem to waver, however, his biceps pressing you into his chest.

He pulled back enough to face you, sporting an exceedingly charming grin that had your heart thumping. “Fine, just missed you is all.”

You paused.

“Huh?”

Somewhere in the background, Mirko let out a sigh, the sound fuming with a mix of relief and pride. “I fucking called it.”

“I’m sorry?” You called, attempting to withdrawal out of Hawks’ hold, your strength doing barely anything against his.

“Nothing.” The pro lifted a hand to her mouth, concealing what you could’ve sworn was a laugh. “He got hit with a love quirk.”

“He what?”

“I’m fine.” Hawks waved her off, golden irises still locked on you.

“He was helping some civilian out of a car accident and go hit with it,” Mirko replied, itching the back of her elongated ear. “They said he should be fine by tomorrow, and since it hadn’t taken effect yet, we figured it be fine if he brought him here.”

She bent at the waist, inspecting the way you were still attempting to wriggle from his clutches before continuing. “Maybe not.”

“So… what am I supposed to do with him?”

She sighed. “Not sure. Good luck, though, I have to go write some reports.”

And with a small wave from Mirko, you were left alone, regardless of the pleas that followed her down the hall.

Surprisingly, it had taken a mere polite request from you to get Hawks to detach himself. He definitely wasn’t as compliant when you pulled a spare chair next to yours before attempting to finish your work for the day.

He watched you, face contorted in thought for a few moments before a grin fell over his features.

You hadn’t noticed what he was doing until his arms snaked under yours, lifting you up as he slid into your spot and plopped down. Next, he grabbed your waist, pulling you forward into a sitting position, thighs straddling his.

Warmth blossomed in your face as you tried to slide off, the hands pressed firmly on your hips easily denying you the escape.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart. You don’t have to be shy,” he chided, nuzzling his face into your shoulder.

“It’s just, uh…” you craned your neck to the side, trying to take a look at the front door. “Anyone could walk in, ya know?”

“So?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Whoever doesn’t know you’re mine yet is an idiot.”

You remained silent, heart jumping at his words, but continued to wait for any moment that his grip would loosen, giving you a chance to slip away.

Still, you had no doubt he would be quick enough to catch you again.

Not that you would particularly mind.

At some point you gave up, shuffling the chair around and starting your work once more, pretending to ignore the way your body fit into his, or the soft, affectionate way he was playing with a strand of your hair.

The two of you fell into a quiet lull, the sound of your fingers against the keyboard the only noise. Thankfully, the back of your chair was short enough for you to see your computer, making for a surprisingly straightforward setup.

“Do you like someone else?”

His works made you pause, hands hovering above your desk. “What?”

“I’ve liked you for months and you barely give me any attention,” Hawks huffed. “Is it that dumbass pro from the next town over?”

“No, that’s because I-” The words made you pause, words faltering as your mental gears began to turn.

Months.

That doesn’t make any sense.

The quirk made him like you, sure, but was it messing with his memories as well?

You glanced down at him, ignoring the small laugh bubbling up your stomach at how dejected he looked, a far cry from the usually cocky attitude you had come to know and enjoy.

Still, the statement led to far too many things not adding up, the dissonance boggling your train of thought until the rest of your productive workday became impossible.

“I need to go talk to Mirko." You pushed the chair away from your desk, pleasantly surprised when Hawks agreed to let you go.

Regardless, it didn’t take long for him to lace your fingers through yours, guiding the both of you to the first floor elevator.

You entertained him for the ride up, the skin of your palm tingling against his.

It was when you arrived to the doorway of Mirko’s office, however, that you had a problem.

Bringing your pointer and middle finger to your temple, you massaged the skin in exasperation. Hawks had become quite adamant on not leaving your side, despite your exasperating protests. “Can you just wait out here for a few minutes? Please?”

It took a few moments but the look of distress slowly morphed into one of wicked glee, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Alright, fine. But you have to give me something first.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Okay… and what would that be.”

“I think you can guess.” His eyes flicked down to your lips.

Oh shit

You swallowed, almost fearful if you opened your mouth to speak, he would hear your heart beating up through your throat.

It’s just a kiss, right? No harm done?

The words seemed useless amidst the power of your nerves, the best course of action fighting its way to the forefront of your mind.

No way no way no way no way

Lifting up your heels, you took a sharp breath, pressing your lips against his for a mere moment before pulling away, scurrying past the doors to Mirko’s office and shutting them with a slam.

The woman looked up from a stack of paperwork, eyes shining in excitement at the distraction, and probable drama you were bringing. “What can I do for ya?”

There were a few seconds of silence, those in which you used to collect yourself, before you answered. "I was wondering if the civilian, the one with the love-quirk, I mean, told you anything else about it? Besides how Hawks will be better tomorrow and stuff."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"Well," you hesitated, taking a moment to remind yourself that it was alright to tell her, a woman who had become dangerously close to your friend, despite the warnings that came along with close relationships with heroes. "He said that he's liked me for months and that just doesn't make sense, especially if the quirk only really affected him a few hours ago, right?"

“I was just…” you sighed, taking a moment to compose your words before continuing. “Did you ask the quirk user if his memories would be influenced at all? Like would they be different than what’s really true?”

“Nope.” The lack of knowledge left your chest heavy, pulling your face downwards to focus on your wringing hands. “They did say that Hawks would only be affected if he looked at someone he had feelings for, though.”

Your eyes shot up. “Huh?”

Miraculously unbothered, she was now inspecting her nails, currently painted a soft gray and shaped into points that you couldn't imagine would be practical. "Uh-huh."

“And you didn’t think to say anything?”

“I figured it would be best to let him tell you himself, even though I only really had a half guess that he liked you,” she replied in amusement. “And since he technically did tell you, I’m off the hook. Figured I’d let you two weirdos work it out.”

She propped her left foot on the edge of her desk, using the momentum to push her chair backward before standing. With a wave of swagger, she made her way over to you, placing a hand on each of your shoulders before spinning your body around and prompting you towards the exit.

Squirming away didn't seem to make a difference, especially considering that her left bicep seemed to be about the size of a tree trunk.

"Wait-"

"Have fun!"

Opening the door, she pushed you out before locking her office, leaving you to glare at the foggy glass.

Are all heroes this manhandle-y?

An arm snaked around your waist, the sudden contact making you jump. "How'd it go? Figure out what you needed?"

Taking a moment to slow your heart, you turned around to face Hawks. "I, uh... yeah, I did."

Looking up at him now was an oddity you weren't sure you were ready for. You were almost sure he didn't reciprocate your feelings, the actual possibility being something you had pushed away in fear of rejection, the concept becoming foreign to you.

Now, it was hard to believe you weren't dreaming, almost as if the soft smile and longing glance he was giving you would slip through your fingers if you didn't hold on tight enough.

The thoughts infiltrating your mind had you distracted, a soft sting of embarrassment hitting you when you realized you both were dangerously close to one another in the middle of the main office floor.

Regardless, when you glanced around, you were met with a quiet destitution, a stark difference to the usual business the agency saw on a Friday afternoon.

"Um, where is everyone?"

He cocked his head to the side, a small chuckle erupting from his lips as he took your chin between two fingers and pushing it slightly toward the left. At first, you weren't sure why, but the clock sporting a 7:27 fell into your line of sight. "Only the workaholics stay this late and we don't have many of those here."

Guess I was going through emails for longer than I thought "Oh. I suppose I should be going home too, then."

"Can I come?"

You almost laughed at his question, the thought of someone of his social standing, and economic one, asking to come to the small apartment on the edge of the city you called home. "You definitely wouldn't want to."

"Then why don't you come back to my place?"

The request made you pause, drawing a feeling of unease into your system despite the lightheartedness it was delivered with. At this point, you knew he liked you, but the idea of going to his house left you anxious.

As far as you were aware, he was an individual of solitude, not even Mirko, whom you perceived to be a fairly close friend, had been to his abode.

For some odd reason, the idea made you feel icky. You sure as hell wouldn’t want to wake up surprised to someone sleeping next to you in your home, someone who you had unknowingly let in while under the effects of a quirk no less.

Seemingly able to notice your hesitation, Hawks offered you his hand. "Follow me."

He didn't exactly wait for a response, lacing your fingers through his and tugging you towards the elevator with a gentleness you wouldn't have believed to be possible with him.

With each button lit, a floor fell beneath your feet, every ding bringing you closer to what you were sure was his office.

It was quite large, the metal doors opening directly into the fully windowed room. White and gold furniture lay atop the marbled floor, polished to a shine.

The birch desk and swivel chair took of most of the space, but he had some other things laying about, such as the mini-fridge and air fryer to your right.

You were almost positive what went on there.

An ivory couch, just about the same width as a twin sized bed lay along the left wall, its creamy pillows and a lusciously looking soft blanket thrown on the side.

A moment passed before you understood what was happening. "Are you… are you sure that's even big enough for both of us?"

"Don't worry about it, songbird." He shrugged his jacket over his shoulders, grasping your arm and pulling you towards the sofa. With exhausted grace, he fell over it, tugging you with him until your body lay over his.

Fuck

With the outer layer off, the fabric of his shirt was just thin enough to feel the ripple of his muscles between your fingers. The soft heat radiating off his skin was nothing short of addictive, the warmth something you were tempted to bask in forever.

And the thing was, you were sure he would let you, if he asked.

The thought was sweet, but it didn’t take long for your mind to wander, to imagine what else he would do for you; would do to you.

"Are you turned on?"

That sure broke the peaceful daze. "What?"

He sat up, golden irises burning in excitement. "If you wanted to do something, you could've just asked."

"I'm not." The words came out exceedingly more nervous than you anticipated.

"Liar." A wicked grin laced his features. "I can tell, ya know, when you're in the mood."

Heart dropping to your stomach, you blinked up at him. "You... you what?"

"Mhm." Hawks placed a hand on your chest, fingers toying with the top of your shirt. "Your heart speeds up just so. I can hear it.”

“You’re bullshitting me.” Somehow, you suspected he wasn’t. The details of his quirk were unknown to you, but you had heard of the heightened senses tethered to those feathers he possessed.

“Ouch, so vulgar,” he waved off the assumption, using his left hand to draw gentle circles on the skin of your stomach. “But keep telling yourself that. I can be patient.”

Your brain filled in the blanks.

I'll wait until you’re begging for it

You tried desperately to ignore the thought, to quiet your frenzied mind and think of something, anything else. Curiosity, it seemed, was your saving grace, another question blossoming in your mind. "So, if you knew about... ya know, why didn't you say something.”

"Liking someone and being horny for them are two different things, gorgeous." He flashed you another grin, identical to the ones on the tabloid covers that inspired thirst tweets and tumblr stories. "Besides, I’ve heard it isn’t very hard to want me in bed, figured my sweet little receptionist wouldn’t be any different."

You snorted. "You're an idiot."

"But you don't mind, right?"

The question came across as playful, but there were wisps of insecure longing strewn amidst his tone.

"No, I definitely don't."

Your affirmation seemed to meet his standards, the man burying his face in your shoulder and pulling you back down onto the couch. Golden locks tickled your cheek, the soft hum of the air conditioner lulling your eyes to a close.

Minutes passed before the two of you fell asleep, surprising seeing that you were usually quite the night owl. Regardless, the way his wings enfolded around the both of you, blocking out the remnants of the evening sunset and any other distractions made you feel disturbingly safe. You would have been content to die here, his arms wrapped around your torso, shielded from the rest of the world within the scarlet plumage.

Chests moving in tandem, each breath undisturbed and hushed as the hours ticked by.

Upon waking, the first thought that entered your mind was how cold it was. That plush blanket you had been eyeing earlier was wrapped snugly around your form, but the fabric seemed to pale in comparison to what you had enjoyed last night.

Your eyes flickered open, straining under the sun streaking past the windowed walls. It took a moment for them to adjust under the harsh lighting, but you jumped when you glanced around to see two golden irises staring back at you.

Hawk's head was propped up on his arms, each balancing on the side of the couch, a few centimeters away from you. A smirk twitched at the corner of his lip at your reaction. "Good morning."

"What the hell are you doing?" You groaned.

An unbothered shrug tugged his shoulders upward. "You look pretty when you're sleeping."

Sitting up, you rolled your joints, stretching the rest of the tiredness away. "Hasn't anyone ever told you watching people while they sleep is creepy?"

"I've never found anyone else as good looking to feel the need to do so." He tilted his head to the side, flashing a boyish grin. "Besides, I thought you ladies liked that sort of thing. Isn't there a movie about that or something?"

You rolled your eyes, sitting up with a yawn. “So… uh, I’m guessing you’re back to normal then?”

"Yup," he replied, popping the 'p' at the end. “Why? Miss me hanging off your shoulder twenty-four seven?"

Yes.

“Shut up.”

He grinned, seemingly unaffected by your fatigued harshness. “So, are you gonna let me take you out today or what?”

“You still want to?”

“Well obviously,” Amusement laced his tone, a quiet ardor brewing among his features. “Unless you’d just like to skip all that and fuck.”

The thought had heat blooming in your cheeks, “You’re so vulgar.”

“And you love it.”

“Maybe.”

You did.

[jollyhunter]

24 Kinky Days with Dean x reader - Day 8.

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW - MDNI! - includes explicit sexual content. It's a kinky writing challenge, so expect anything at this point, (nothing freaky, don't worry) but it's a surprise calendar so I won't spoil it! (Also, English is not my native language)

Advent calendar includes: headcanons, snippets, one shots, imagines, blurbs etc.

Words: 1,430

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

A/N: Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated! And if you enjoy it so far, please let me know <3 On another side note; I didn't get to proof read it anymore, will do so tomorrow!

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

8th Dec. - Hex Play

“What now?” Dean asks, his eyes darting up from the small folded paper he had added to the hex bag in your hands. “We just… go to bed or what?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” You tightly wrap the red string around the leather pouch, sealing it for good so that neither of you will end up with a crows beak or a coyotes backbone in your face while you sleep. "And if we wanna leave, we just tear the paper apart."

The hex bag gets shoved under the mattress before both of you swing yourselves onto the bed and get comfortable, your hands instinctively searching one another to intertwine your fingers. For a moment, you both stay silent, your eyes glued to the ceiling in anticipation.

Then Dean’s (short) patience snaps and he grunts in annoyance, “This isn't wo-” “Son of a bitch,” he breaths out wide-eyed, taking in the sudden change of surrounding. One moment you were in your bed, next you both stand in the hallway of a hospital.

“No way,” you mutter just as befuddled, your eyes roaming the life like location while you turn around - just to get bumped into by a man in his white coat. “Whoa- watch it mate-”

“Nurse,” he nods at you with a sultry smile before he continues his way down the hall with his damn cowboy boots clamping against the floor. Wait. Cowboy boots? No fucking way this is- You whirl around to meet Dean’s face. And oh God, his green eyes were practically sparkling like the friggin’ vamp guy from Twilight.

“Dr. Sexy.” You say, hoping to snap him out of his swooning state.

“Doctor Sexy, M.D.” He corrects you. He watches him until he takes the corner at the end of the hallway and he finally manages to shift his focus to you for the first time, his lips parting at the sight. “Goddamn, honey.” His eyes widen once more, his tongue darting out briefly to swipe his lips, “This hex play’s workin’ like a charm.”

You look down at yourself, just now realizing that, right, the guy had addressed you as ‘nurse’. And lo and behold - you are wearing a nurse’s attire. Or well, let’s say a bit of a sluttier version of a nurse, but you had to admit, the short white skirt and the matching stockings had some sex-appeal. “So this is what you wrote down? This what you dream of?” You look up at Dean with a teasing smile as you notice him basically gnawing his bottom lip at the sight of you like this.

“Hell yeah,” he admits without hesitation, “You look so hot – I just – damn.” Yep, this was exactly what he had always dreamed of; the classic role play cliché of the sexy nurse. But it was you, it wasn’t any nurse, but actually you. Dean stares down at you, his mind seemingly short-circuited while you can make out a faint moan that he just tried to bite back. Your lips curl into a knowing smile while you begin to get into character. “Soooo…” you drawl in a sultry tone and taking a step closer until your breasts are pressed flush against his chest and his breath hitches at your unexpected move. You continue the teasing, your fingers slowly trailing up his doctors coat until they reach the first button of his shirt, playfully fumbling with it, “I think I need to do a check up on you… Doctor.”

“Y-Yes,” Dean stutters slightly, his breaths coming out in short, excited little huffs. You had barely even touched him and he is already so close to a whimpering mess. “Alrighty,” You chuckle while you grab him by the collar to lead him over to the next open door. “Time to get those pants down for your full body check.”

Dean stops in his tracks, trying – and failing – to hide the intense shudder that runs through his body at the way you play your role absolutely perfectly. “Damn, woman,” he mutters under his breath, his words underlined by a faint whine. “Wait- I know a better spot-” He grabs you around the waist and pulls you along, navigating you both past a dozen nurses and doctors until you two end up in the office of none others but Dr. feakin’ Sexy, M.D’s. Taking back the lead in this roleplay, you swiftly push him up against the wall, your red lips leaving a trail of lipstick kiss marks along his collarbone and all the way up to his cheekbone. Dean shudders under your touch, his voice a low whimper, “My God, hon-”

“Nurse,” you interject while you keep nipping at his pulse point, drawing another needy whimper from his lips. “I must be very thorough with my inspections...Dr. Winchester.” You announce against his skin and your fingers quickly go to work their way down each button.

Some minutes later, Dean is stripped completely naked, his entire body peppered with sweet red lipstick markings proving your thorough work. Your hands run along his inner thighs, the nails gently grazing his skin until one of them comes up to cup his testicles and the other wraps around his rock hard erection. Dean’s breath gets caught in his throat, his head falling back against the wall with a loud, strangled whimpering noise, halfway choked back by his teeth, biting his bottom lip.

You drop to your knees and your mouth quickly goes to work, earning yourself a row of guttural moans from him. With your head moving up and down in a tantalizing pace and your fingernails gently scratching the sensitive skin close by. “P-Please,” he starts to plead with you, his words laced with need and desperation, “Please- n-nurse,” each of his hands grab a fistful of your hair, his fingers tightening whenever you suck hard and his hips buck into your mouth. “W-wait,” he suddenly pulls you back, his voice breathless and his legs slightly trembling from how close he was to falling over the edge. You instantly stop, your eyes searching his while you lick your lips and wipe your chin clean with your thumb. “Is everything alright? You want me to stop?” You ask a little unsure while you stay kneeled in front of him.

“N-no, God no,” He clarifies quickly, still catching his breath, “But I don’t want this to end yet.”

Next thing you know, Dean scoops you up from the ground and with swift steps carries you over to the office desk where he sits you down on the edge of it. He leans over you, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate kiss, smearing your lipstick across your face. When he breaks the kiss, his emerald eyes lock onto yours, making sure you enjoy this just as much as he does. “You… like it too? This?” he whispers against your lips, hoping for your reassurance. You smile, your fingers gently threading through his dark blond hair while you whisper back. “Hell yeah I do.” Dean’s lips twitch into that trademark smirk of his and he doesn’t wait any longer to push up the little fabric that your skirt offers before he slips your panties aside to slip his cock inside you with a shared deep groan from both of you. His strong hands keep you close to him as he rocks his hips, pushing in and out of you slow at first. But then the need quickly builds up and he moans and pants into the crook of your neck, “Fff-uck- Y-you’re so good, so beautiful, s-so tight-,” his fingers dig into the flesh at your hips while he starts to thrust into you, making sure to hit all the right spots to hear his sweet little nurse moan as well.

You dig your nails into the skin of his back, clawing at him as you feel him push you closer and closer to the edge, that knot tightening up more by the second. One of his hands suddenly lets go of your hip to snake down past your bunched up skirt and right back up to your swollen clit, his rubbing index finger determined to make you come undone in more than one ways. With a loud whimper your hips buck against him and your legs wrap around his waist to pull him in, needing him deeper, to fill you up all the way. “D-doctor,” you whine, your clouded brain trying its best to stay in character despite your impending climax. “I- I’m close-”

“Me too,” he pants breathlessly, his hips increasing their pace, now set on getting you both over the edge. With another hard thrust, you feel your body tense up and the next moment the crash of the orgasm waves through your body while Dean cums at the same time with your walls clamping around him.

“God…” he pants heavily, his forehead dropped to your shoulder, “That… that was amazin’… You are amazing.”

*** “Y’know what I don’t get… wasn’t this supposed to be like our dreams combined?” Dean looks around the hospital’s hallway, searching for something which didn’t fit into the setting of his favourite TV-Show. His hair dishevelled and his doctors coat put back on sloppily. “Or did I miss somethin’?” His confused eyes trail back to meet yours with a raise of his eyebrow, his arm draped around your back pulling you a little closer. You shrug it off with a wry smile, “Guess it just picked yours over mine.” Dean grunts, not entirely buying your explanation while he rummages through his capes pockets to grab the small pouch. Then he pulls your piece of paper from the hex bag and a faint smirk appears on his lips, “Can I see what you wrote down?”

You snatch the small scrap of paper from his fingers and dodge his attempt to attain it back, “Hey-!” “That’s my secret!” You snigger mysteriously, the crumpled paper disappearing in your back pocket. “Yours was better anyway.”

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Masterlist of opened windows:

1st Dec. - Sunshine 2nd Dec. - Spell Book 3rd Dec. - Lights Out 4th Dec. - Tickle 5th Dec. - Dirty UNO 6th Dec. - (TBA) 7th Dec. - Candlelight 8th Dec. - Hex Play 9th Dec. - Whip Stroke

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Tags:

@ariasong11 @deansjacket @literallylexa @lmpala1967 @foxyjwls007

[delugguk]

is this okay?

pair: jungkook x reader

rated: mature

word count: 1.7k

warnings: sexual content.

Part two.

autor’a note: helllooooooo I know it’s been a while and since I haven’t finished my many fics that I have (I know, k word me pls but don’t, actually skdj) this live (or more like the way he looks) made me go kinda feral for him so I had to do this !! this is compleeeetely unedited because I wrote it super fast and I’m just posting it as it is !! with nothing more to say, I miss and love every single one of you that keep coming back to my stories or just finding out about it, believe me when I say I appreciate every single one of you, even if you’re new!! you’re here for a reason 🫶🏼 thank you for liking my stuff and I’ll be more open to you guys later since I one to make a while make over on this account lmaO, anyways, enjoy and let’s get feral together while kook’s cook his album🤍🧚🏼✨

~*^~*~^~*~^*~~^*~^~*~^~*~^~*~^~*~^~*^~*~^~*~^~*

you blame it on him.

he didn’t had to seat like that, stare at you like that and even bite his lower lips like that. it was something so subtle and you swore his eyes glistened so much, you could almost mistaken them for desire.

but what if..?

no.

you needed to control yourself. you promised you wouldn’t be jumping his bones the moment he called you to make him some company. you know you two are close friends.

but damn.

can’t deny the massive sexual attraction that’s so intense with only doing something so innocent as much as sinful like eye contact.

it’s crazy.

or at least that’s what you think.

jungkook can be complicated at times. but, fuck. you suddenly remember his fainted voice when talking to that girl. “sure, but can you handle me?”. you didn’t know what he or they were referring to, you were just trying to pass by in those big echoing college halls.

of course, you thought about— the worst.

he was fine as hell, okay? to say he isn’t fucking around just makes NO sense.

but the day you met him or—no. the day you two met at that reunion.. fuck. just thinking about it already makes your pussy pop. how embarrassing.

he looked so fine.. he teased you just right.. ugh! stupid hormones! why does it have to be so rich to have sex.. you wanted to fuck him here and there. a little dance could do so much..

“..y/n?”

suddenly you’re back to earth. (with a flaming pussy as we speak).

“yeah?” disconnected, you blink once again. jungkook just smirks.

“I told you, not to worry about it. just come seat,” he pats his side of the sofa, two times. “next to me.”

stupid beanie, stupid white shirt and stupid tattoos.

why does he has to look so cute and fine at the same time? not only that but the way he smelled? a fucking perfect man. who the hell smells that good? it isn’t even a strong essence but rather a soft/sexy one..

“no.” oh.. you can’t help yourself anymore. “I want to seat here.” you said as each of your legs takes place beside his waist.

yep, you boldly seated on top of him. just like that.

it’s not that you do this often but jungkook didn’t seemed to reject your body language as soon as he holded your hips with both of his hands. somehow delicate but oh, so decisively.

that caused a whole electricity run over your entire body to the point you almost felt goosebumps if it wasn’t that already.

just.. how much did you really wanted him? seemed out of limits..

both of your palms rest on his shoulders and there’s no words but an intense eye contact full of temptation, desire.. all of the words you can imagine referencing to the same feeling you both were having right now.

what’s stopping you two? why don’t you move? why doesn’t he move? those were your thoughts until-

“it’s dangerous.” he mutters. you’re just biting your lips.

gosh, you wanted him right here, right now.

“eung” you say, but it sounded a little too sexy(horny) for jungkook’s ears and damn, did he liked that.

“eung?” but as he mimics the way you sounded (just a little more dominant) was enough for you to start moving your hips to his already increasing bulge. mm. it felt good.

you grab his neck as you move very slowly but surely as he looks at you with those dark shiny eyes slightly pulling his face towards the area where your boobs could make contact with him.

he acts fast into giving light, delicate but needy kisses through your also white crop top. the one that can mark how hard your nipples are just right.

you moan a little, more like a very hot exhale that makes jungkook go crazy internally. the way for him to expresses is to squeeze the side of your hips, right enough for you to take your shirt off.

“no bra..” he smirks. “just how I like.”

“mhmm” you slightly moan once again to acknowledge his words.

his hands immediately take a ride feeling you up from your curves, belly, ribs and finally, your boobs. his hands feeling so warm, so right as soon as he touched you. feeling like it could burn, it felt divine. it was to the point where you weren’t the only one that’s breathing so heavy but him.

kissing your nipples felt like heaven, his lip piercing somehow sort of cold made magic so you couldn’t help but take his shirt off, beanie staying on. you wanted him like that.

“I want to kiss you so bad.” breathless, you said.

“do it.” bold enough, he responds. “fuck me if you want. I’ll let you do anything tonight.”

“fuck.” you whisper. “jungkook..” hips intensifying its deep roll, still slow.

“take off your shorts. want you naked for me.”

you wanted to scream. (in many different meanings to it).

he follows you when you obey him so well, but instead of him going naked, he leaves his boxers on.

but you don’t mind, as soon as you caress the imprint of his hard dick drawing on his black Calvin Klein’s boxers. jungkook man spreads giving you the fucking gaze, while patting his well formed thighs and you’re crazy wet at this point. — as soon as you reveal his dick making a pop towards his lower stomach, you could feel yourself almost salivating for him.. and it’s something you’ll normally will feel embarrassing of, but with the way your pussy was crying for him.. yeah, a girl had to do what it gotta do.

“didn’t know how badly you wanted me..” he exhales. “guess I wasn’t the only one, fuck. come here.

pulling you and opening your legs towards him revealed how sticky you were in front of his eyes that jungkook couldn’t help but pass his dick through your entrance without dipping in yet.

“fuck..” he moans. “is this what you wanted? mm. how long were you waiting for this?” giving a little slap with his dick to your pussy. “and why didn’t you tell me earlier?” with hooded eyes, already looking like a mess.

god, was he gone and he hasn’t entered you yet.

you were almost to the point of crying with him barely starting. that’s how horny the both of you were.

“been wanting you for a while..” you’re breathing to exhale. it feels so good. “wanting to feel you just like this..”

“..raw?”

“mh-yeah.. fuck.”

he just stares at your expression for a moment, eyes closed, lips being caught up by your teeth.. pussy sliding so easily around his already wet hard dick.. it seemed so sexy the way you were moving. he wanted to eat you out when looking at you, but his need to finally be inside you was stronger.

“so do I..” he deeply answers as soon as he’s making your hips swallow his entire dick.

“agh, fffuck. it’s more of what I imagined.” he speaks more to himself.

you, on the other hand, was trying no to cum right there. breathing long and slowly to calm your pussy and feelings because somehow.. your heart started to felt as if it wanted to jump out of your body and you swear you could hear jungkook’s heart trying to do the same too.

“move.” he says, giving some gentle, little pats to your ass.

“give me a second-“ and after five seconds, you breathe and start rolling your hips back and forth. all you could hear was your juices having fun.

but the moment you lean into him and hug him with your face into the side of his neck, is we’re things start to get fun and nasty when you actually start to bounce on him.

“fuck yes.” jungkook’s voice rasp into a very hot moan. “‘knew you were good.” he pauses. “fucking lucky I am.” after grabbing your ass and start manhandling you like his personal fuck toy.

“ah-“ a moan escaping your lips, you clench your teeth sucking air to it. “s-so g-good” and it’s just that you speak along marking the secuence of how he bounces you on him.

“mm I’m feeling you close, are you?”

“y-yeah”

—in a moment where you both got to cum, having jungkook fuck you still with his cum innit because he founded so sexy the way your pussy looked so swollen and messy (and how well you take him and squeezed him) having you cum once again, things weren’t so awkward afterwards. it all ended up rather having jungkook asking you things.

“I noticed you got more wet when I started to control your bounces..”

“I.. um, I like when someone sort of.. uses me like that like..” you lower your voice, “I’m all yours?”

jungkook smiles. “oh.. y/n you aren’t getting shy right now, aren’t you?”

“no!” you feel embarrassed.

“I think you are..” he teases.

“shut up.” you roll your eyes.

“don’t worry though. as I’ve said it before things.. turned out to be this way,” you both giggle. “don’t worry. and.. y/n?”

“eung?”

“believe me when I say that this isn’t going to be the last time of us doing this. I will always want this to happen again, and it will.” he pauses. “unless you don’t want me to.”

“okay.” it’s all you say but in reality you can’t explain to him how much do you agree with this because sure, if it was hard standing by his side without doing anything ever since that night or the day you met him.. with today’s events it’ll be even harder to not want to have a taste of him once again.

and again..

and again.

and that’s when it hits you. you never kissed him, he never kissed you and you’re completely screwed.

[prncessjaeger]

making slime with bf!eren ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

ღsypnosis: the title…that’s it!

ღan: i wrote this already but changed it up a bit and boom here it is

“bro, why can’t we just get the big things of glue instead of buying these small ass bottles?” it was late at night, possibly around 11 pm, and you and eren were currently in walmart after he brought up the cute idea to make some slime. “because, it’s just for us two, we’re only getting one clear and one white glue bottles, now what’s next?”

“uh the borax solution…but all i see is this big ass white box.”

“that’s the solution.” eren examined the box, “how in the fuck does powder and glue make slime?”

“you have to add water i think, that’s what mikasa said, now we need food coloring, choose a colors, “ he picked out the yellow one and you chose pink (obviously), “do you want your slime to have a scent? or any add-ons?”

“you can do that?!” he screeched, scaring the other few shoppers, “sorry,” he bashfully said, rubbing the back of his neck, “why’re you apologizing, people have heard worse, they’ll live. anyways, yes you can do that so pick the ones you want, imma do strawberries…”

he scanned through them, picking out a strong vanilla scent, “okay and we’re gonna get some glitter and a couple of spons and bowls, that’s it.”

paying for your things, you drove back to the house with all your slime supplies and some extra snacks and when you walked in, you saw your cat in armin’s arms, being swung around like nothing, “boy put my baby down?!”

“oh come on, she likes it, right??” the cat just meowed and meowed, “right! talk yo shit, pookie!”

“girl hush, come eren,” you went to the back and got the materials laid out on your spare table you made armin set up for you, and began to make your slime. when you poured the amount you wanted, eren leaned over, “wow, you’re like insanely cool, and talented, and beautiful, and also really intelligent-“

“what do you want, eren?”

“could you pour my glue i’m scared ?”

“scared- i’m not even gonna ask, hand me the one you want,” he handed you the white glue to pour, “what color?”

“the one that’s not pink.” you dropped a couple of yellow dye in, “now i wanna make my slime. mix it until you see no white left,” he began mixing while you started on yours, hearing the loud music from the living room armin blasted, “i don’t know who’s worse, you or armin-“

“woah i’m like the perfect boyfriend ever-“

“you literally thought dwayne johnson and the rock were twins eren..”

“hear me out cause it makes sense if one was wrestling and the other twin acts!” staring at this man in disbelief, “eren why do you think they added “the rock” in parentheses of dwayne johnson?”

“to acknowledge the limited space on the screen?”

“okay, you know what! let’s just finish making this,” you chuckled, trying not to laugh in this man’s face. you added the glitter in, “alright now add your vanilla scent in and added a small amount of mine in the pink one as well, i’ll make the solution.”

once you were finished, you both begane pour solution in the bowl and watched how it clumped together, “alright you got your gloves on?”

“yep, let’s knead it together,” you both began playing with your slime, “uh y/n…” you turn towards eren sighing deeply, “oh my god.”

he was covering in slime from the top of his head to the middle of his chest, “how did you- i don’t even wanna ask, come here.”

and the rest of the night was spent with you and armin trying to get slime out of his hair, “eren! stay still goddamnit!”

“ow! you popped me!”

“oh shut up!”

[diorctrl]

KISS MY LIPS yang jungwon x reader

𓂂 ˳ mean girl reader x class president jungwon fluff warnings: intentional lower case, reader is lowkey a bimbo

the air from the air conditioning of the class room blew on him, the teachers knowledge filling him as he wrote down his notes, he took a peek at the clock only 48 more minutes of class.

he went back to writing his notes but was distracted by the loud sound of the classroom door shutting, he didn’t have to look to know who it was, it was obvious.

the sound of his teachers voice is what makes him look up. “l/n, how wonderful it is for you to show up.” he looks at the clock. “yep, like always late, care to explain why?”

jungwon finally turns around to take a look at you in all your glory, your hair in a half up half down topping it off with a miumiu head band, your pink glossy lips and light sparkly eye shadow, your white leg warmers with and your mary janes with pink ribbons, he knows exactly why your late, no one puts this much effort into how they look and can show up to school early.

his gaze follows you as you walk up to your teacher at the front of the classroom, your mary janes clicking on the floor, you fan your face before speaking, “sir,I have a completely reasonable reason to be late today.” you stop right in front of jungwons desk, your perfume filling his nose she smells good like always.

your teacher crosses his arms while looking down at you. “right, and what’s that?”

jungwon eyebrows raise as he watches you pat out your outfit like you’re preparing to say the most tragic story ever known to man kind.

“okay, so first I woke up sorta late, not gonna lie but that’s beside the point.” you start waving your hands. “at first I thought my chauffeur was late because that’s what my dad wrote on the bored today since he couldn’t actually tell me when I woke up because he’s never home, you know CEO stuff, but you already know that, BUT, you’re never gonna believe this.” you talk like you’re gossiping. “he actually didn’t show up at all, all because his wife went into labour, can you believe her, how could she?” you ramble.

your teacher nods his head,entertaining you, “oh yeah, how could she.”

you smile. “I knew you would understand, I’ve had a very bad morning as you can see, I couldn’t even get my morning smoothie, so please don’t get mad me.”

a laugh was heard from someone in class, you snap your head towards them and the sweet smile that you had turned into the most bitchy face, that jungwon has seen multiple times.

“what’s so funny?” you ask the laughing girl, your mean gaze scans her, “you should be laughing at the tacky shoes on your feet.”

the girl goes quite, your hard gaze travels to jungwon, softening slightly before hardening quickly after. “that’s what I thought.” you finish before turning to your teacher. “am I free to sit sir?”

he lets out a sigh. “yes, you can go sit.”

you smile before, digging into your bag and pulling out a two 10000 won bills and putting in his shirt pocket. “buy yourself a nice lunch sir.” you pat his shoulder before shuffling to your seat at the back.

the person sitting beside jungwon leans in to him, “she’s never gonna graduate.” they say before leaning back but he doesn’t reply.

the rest of the class is haze and the sound of bells is what snaps jungwon out of it, he picks up his books, the sound of feet scurrying out the class fills his ears.

he makes his way out the class and down the hallway but is stoped by a familiar voice.

“Mr president!” you say teasingly, walking up to the boy, who looks down at you with amusement.

“you were really gonna leave me huh?” you say putting his arm over your shoulder as you guys continue to walk down the hallway.

he doesn’t respond just laughs shaking his head, “did you hear about the morning i had today? i still can’t believe it.”

“i think the whole class heard it yn.” he said leaning against the lockers beside yours.

“oh.” you pause for a minute, before continuing. “oh, and i can’t believe the audacity of that girl in class today to laugh at me? me? i could buy her.”

you take out the books that you need for your next class, “i’d have to ask for dad’s permission first though.” you say turning to your boyfriend rolling your eyes.

“oh how dreadful.” he says sarcastically he says taking your books from your hand and kissing your cheek as you close your locker.

“walk me to class?” you ask.

“always.” he replies.

“kiss me.”

he kisses your cheek.

“my lips dummy.”

taglist: @doublasting

[mindibindi]

‘Frankly nobody should need a single policy from her. Given their options, all she should need to do as a sane, intelligent, compassionate and competent woman was put her hand up.’

“Vote for this politician. Pay no attention to her politics. Grovel at her feet. Expect no policy from her. Vote for her because she isn’t the other one. Do not inspect her policies. Vote for her without hesitation.”

Good to know Blue MAGA’s still in full swing, can’t wait to see none of you at the polls because you don’t practice what you preach.

What a brave ask, hiding behind anonymity. But yeah, I wrote it, meant it and stand by it. By which I mean, I stand by this:

‘Frankly nobody should need a single policy from her. Given their options, all she should need to do as a sane, intelligent, compassionate and competent woman was put her hand up.’

"Given their options" being the operative phrase. I did not write this:

“Vote for this politician. Pay no attention to her politics. Grovel at her feet. Expect no policy from her. Vote for her because she isn’t the other one. Do not inspect her policies. Vote for her without hesitation.”

Nice job taking my words and trying to twist them. Wonder where you learned that completely transparent and manipulative trick? Unfortunately, even that pathetic attempt to make an entirely reasonable position look fascistic...I don't disagree with. It is a national SHAME than your polls are as close as they are. So ABSO-FUCKIN-LUTELY. Every sane, reasonable, feeling person in America should VOTE BLUE

Now usually, beyond the odd rainbow meme, I don't do politics on my tumblr. But that doesn't mean I don't know what I'm talking about. (Please consider this before coming at me in the comments. Pithy replies aren't gonna cut it. Outraged whataboutism is only going to result in a swift but brutal slapdown. I know my shit and I'm probably much smarter than you. I'm a university tutor so I'm not gonna argue easily disprovable positions. I'm simply going to mark you down for poor critical thinking skills and tell you to resubmit once your work is up to standard. Willful stupidity will not be tolerated. You have been warned).

All that said, I'm not American so I'm posting this if only so that voters in the US see that final taunt about them not turning out. If there's one thing Republicans do better than Democrats, it's organise. They don't engage in in-fighting or noble self-sacrifice on election day. They band together in mutual rage and hatred and they storm the halls of power. Sometimes literally. So you gotta show up people. You gotta vote blue. You gotta let go of your exceptionalist moral purity just long enough to do the ONLY. SANE. THING.

NO EXCUSES. NO BUTS. NO ARGUMENT. Because here's the thing:

There IS no valid argument for voting for drumpbpfth.

There IS no valid argument for NOT voting.

We've heard the arguments in favour of a protest vote. (Yep, even for Palestine). We've heard e v e r y t h i n g the dumpsterfire has done and intends to do. And NO argument in favour of either option stacks up. You aren't gonna surprise me with a "but what about...?". NOPE. SHUT the FUCK UP. Sit down. Use your brain. Because here's ALL you need to know about the ONLY candidate actually deserving of the title of the President of the United States.

She served as Vice President under President Biden (who did an incredible job given what he inherited)

She's a former prosecutor and actual career politician (not a conman)

She's a woman of color (which means she has had to work approximately 527x harder than ANY white cis-het man to have reached the equivalent position)

That's it. That's all you need to know. Literally. That's what you knew when she put her hand up and just that SHOULD, if there is anything fair and logical about US politics, put Kamala Harris in the lead. That alone should by rights earn her the presidency. Because those things things tell you these:

She can represent your country with pride and professionalism and without embarrassing you daily on the world stage

She adheres to the values of the Democratic Party

She can work with other stakeholders, inc. internationally

She can form whole sentences and logical arguments

She's interested in social justice

She can function within structures of accountability

She has political experience

She is capable of drafting and negotiating policy

She's smart and hard-working

The reason you don't need policy from her is because you know from her resume that she is actually capable of coming up with policy. The reason you don't need to know whether she can be held accountable is that her whole career shows she can. More to the point, she's running against someone whose resume and history shows he isn't capable of either of these things. He has no policy. No concepts of a policy. He's incapable probably of even spelling the word. He is also entirely uninterested in structures of accountability. dump doesn't care about America or Americans. He cares ONLY about himself. Sure, if republicans had put forward a legitimate candidate for Kamala Harris to run against THEN you could talk about inspecting policies. Then you could have debate and critique and some kind of productive and meaningful back-and-forth negotiation. But 'Merica, sweetie, honey. There's nothing to discuss. There's no great and glorious tussle here. You have ONE solid candidate for president who WILL serve you well. And frankly, you are LUCKY to have her. You barely deserve another shot at this. Trump was never a serious politician or reasonable candidate for president. He may in fact be EXACTLY the president America wants and deserves. THAT is now up to you to prove or disprove.

But please stop pretending this is some kind of a race. Please stop holding Harris to standard you don't apply equally to her opposition. The bar for her is in heaven while the bar for him is in hell. He's sloshing cheap champagne at the bar and hawking bitcoin while you press HER ON POLICY????!! Come the fuck on. This is false balance taken to a truly iiiiinnnnsaaaannnne extreme. You might as well put a turd in a suit then place them side-by-side in a split screen. You don't need to know more. You don't need another debate. You don't need another interview. You don't need a woman who has WITHOUT A DOUBT had to prove herself every. single. step. of. the. goddamn. way. to prove herself for the 528th time. If you do, then you're just coming up with excuses to vote for hate. If that's your deal, then vote hate. But don't gaslight everyone else into thinking you're discerning when all you're actually discerning about is who you consider human.

I'm not saying you have to ADORE Harris. I'm not saying grovel at her feet but honestly, I do understand some of joy and relief that has poured forth since she's stepped up following Biden's selfless act of renunciation. That joy says something profound about the state of American politics. It isn't meaningless. If anything, that joy is indicative of an incredible sadness, a long-standing hopelessness. As for the critics who say that all she is is joy and memes and nothing else, I say this -- that is the level of political discourse you all, as a country, have created and accepted. That is a collective choice. The social media campaign for Harris is a brilliant strategic move and possibly the only thing that could at this point compete with dump's seemingly unstoppable narcissistic brand of bs. Dems have to play to win. Lives depend on it. And right now, Dems can't win with policy. And principle. And intelligence. And compassion. And experience. And progress. Because (some) Americans won't vote for it. But they WILL vote for memes. And THAT? That is on YOU.

You don't WANT policy. You want fucking coconuts. And you, Anon, don't WANT policy. You just want to say that she doesn't have any so you have an excuse to hate, attack, marginalise, deprive and kill. And above all, remain stupid. Right now, the ONLY path away from stupidity and hate is to VOTE BLUE. Yeah, you could have had two decent candidates and an actual race but you don't. This is the reality y'all made. And yes, the system is most definitely stacked against anyone who wants or tries to change it. So now you gotta defeat MAGA + The Electoral College + "voter fraud" impediments + potentially SCOTUS if you even have half a chance at regaining control of your country. Even then, nothing is assured. Expect HUGE backlash. (A woman president??? An Asian-African-wtf-even-IS-she in The White House?? And I thought the Obamas were bad!!!) You may have another insurrection on your hands. You may be headed for civil war. She's got a hell of a job ahead of her. She's going to be proving herself for years to come. But the difference between her and that joke of a republican candidate is that he isn't fit for the job. She is.

[tommydarlings]

Save a horse, ride a cowboy | a.b

pairing: dom!cowboy!austin x sub!reader

warnings: smut, chocking, mirror sex

w/c: 1.1k

summary: 'Save a horse, ride a cowboy' is a saying that’s been in your mind for quite a long time already and you were always able to resist your wild fantasy… until now.

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +20 works) // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3 

As soon as you saw your boyfriend, Austin, wearing his light brown cowboy hat that he was allowed to keep after a photo shot, you knew that it was over for you.

You talked about the term 'roleplaying' with your friends before, but never with Austin. It’s not that you are ashamed of admitting that you want to try it with him, but you just didn’t know how to bring this kind of conversation up…

Hey baby, could you please pretend to be a cowboy from Texas and fuck me?

Hey sweetheart, why don’t you let me ride you in that nice little cowboy hat that you got?

To be honest — the saying 'save a horse, ride a cowboy, doesn’t exist for no reason… right?

You dreamed of it, fantasised of it, even thought about while he was fucking you — but you just never knew how to approach him and tell him your biggest wish.

Until today.

“I really like this place.” You told your boyfriend of about only 5 months while you let your eyes explore the fancy place that Austin picked out for tonight’s date night.

An old, rather small, restaurant that carries the perfect Texas/Cowboy vibe.

The perfect occasion for Austin to wear his shirt covered in blue and white flowers, paired with a normal black jeans and dark brown cowboy boots.

You were literally about to scream.

“Yeah, me too, I love this cowboy vibe, they really designed all of that, perfectly.” Austin explained with a tiny grin on his oh so soft lips.

You smiled at your boyfriend who’s sitting right at the opposite site of the small wooden table, gently putting your menu card back down after you decided to go for the classic, chicken wings with the good old barbecue sauce.

“Chicken wings with barbecue sauce?” The handsome man in the cowboy outfit, which is by the way making you feel feral, asked you.

You nodded, “yep.”

“Me too.” The waiter quickly then came and wrote your orders down before he left your table again.

“Have I already told you that you look drop dead gorgeous, my love?” He asked you, leaning his chin on your palm as he admired you with those ocean blue eyes.

You giggled, “Yes, like a thousand times already, sweetheart.” You replied.

For today’s date night, you picked a cute summer dress paired with a brown leather jacket and brown cowboy boots, basically matching with your handsome boyfriend who’s eyes just can’t seem to leave your figure.

“Good, because you really do look stunning, my pretty girl.” Austin whispered, hand reaching up to brush a piece of hair behind your ear as you smiled and bit your lip.

His smile slightly dropped, “Don’t do that.”

You furrowed your brows at his sudden change, “Don’t do what?” You curiously asked him.

“Don’t bite your lip, not here.” He muttered before you saw in the corner of your eye that the waiter already made his way over to your table.

“Sorry.” You mumbled with a smile before he nodded winked at you, making you blush before you two started to enjoy your chicken wings.

- - -

“Are you sure that you're okay? You looked a bit tensed up tonight, suga.” Your sweet (and unimaginable hot, handsome and sexy) boyfriend asked you as soon as he started the engine of his black Cadillac and drove you two home.

You gulped, squeezing your thighs together before you briefly glanced over into the direction of your boyfriend.

“Yeah, no, I-I mean, yes, I am o-okay.” You said as you slowly brushed your hands over your dress right above your panties, desperately trying to hide the fact that your are unbelievably horny right now.

Austin smirked and bit his lip as he noticed how your hands clutched onto your pretty dress that he bought you a few days ago.

After he caught your starring up at his brown cowboy hat, he started to speed through the noisy streets of California like a mad man, hands having the thin wheel in a tight grip as you gulped and furrowed your brows.

You waited in your seat as soon as you arrived at home, knowing that Austin gets a bit mad every time when you open the car door by yourself since he always says that a real gentleman always opens the car door for his beautiful women.

“Here you go, sweetness.” He mumbled after opening your door and offering you his hand to take it and intertwining your fingers with his.

You smiled up at your man, “thank you, baby.”

“No problem, my love.” He said before he fished his key out of the pocket of his black jeans and swiftly opened the big door, letting you enter first.

While Austin helped you out of your jacket, you though about only one thing.

Save a horse, ride a cowboy.

And which moment would be better than this one now? Exactly, none. You’ll never know when he’s gonna wear this outfit ever again.

Austin came up behind you and pulled your back further onto his chest as his long arms slung themselves around your waist, thumb slowly caressing your skin.

“Austin?” You shyly spoke up, eyes now looking at him through the mirror.

“Yes, pretty girl.”

“Do you know the saying, 'save a horse, ride a cowboy'?”

Austin’s thumb suddenly stopped caressing your skin, arms now falling off of your waist before his big palms grabbed your hips, squeezing them while he gazed at you through the big mirror.

He gulped as you saw how his eyes got darker, “Of course I do, baby.” He answered. You nodded as you heard his raspy voice answering your question, not daring to say anything else as you started to blush.

Suddenly, Austin walked backwards, pulling your standing figure with him until the two of you landed onto the small red couch that’s placed right in front of the mirror.

Oh, that’s why he placed the mirror right in front of the couch.

His hands were still gently placed on your hips before you felt his mouth hovering above your ear, nose running along your red cheek.

“You wanna ride me while I’m dressed as a cowboy?” He asked you softly, hand now slowly making its way down to his belt, slowly opening it.

You couldn’t form a sentence right now, so you nodded.

“I wanna hear words out of that pretty and useful mouth, suga, words.” He replied to your nod, making you gasp as soon as he slid his jeans and boxers down and revealed his big erection.

Your hands had a rather tight grip onto your boyfriends jeans, “Yes, I w-wanna ride you.” You quietly told him.

“Go on, sweetheart.” Hips giving you a tiny thrust, making you aware of his erection as his hands slowly lifted your dress.

“dressed as a cowboy.” You finished the sentence in a soft and quiet tone. Austin proudly nodded,

“Then let’s save a horse and ride a cowboy, huh?” He mumbled into your ear before he gave the side of your neck a tiny peck and removed your already wet panties.

[ennoshitas-princess]

Puppy Love

Sachiro Hirugami x fem! reader Warnings: cuteness and fluff Summary: You work at a puppy hotel and Sachiro comes to check up on the puppies. Word Count: 651 This is held post time skip and there will be no manga spoilers.

You peacefully enter the puppy place to be tackled by a bunch of fur balls of different shapes and sizes. One licked your cheeks all wet, while another one pulled your hair tie off.

“Hey! You cuties.” You giggled of pure joy.

“Hey y/n, the veterinarian is going to come soon. So these puppies better be in order.” One of your colleagues came in to feed them.You get up from the ground to look at their adorable faces, waiting for one in particular to come and place big brown eyes at you from below. How could you not resist them?

“Why hello there little bud. Are you hungry?” You cuddle his fluffy head.

You go to the counter where you keep doggy treats for the pups and grab one out of the jar.The puppy treat had a bumpy texture with little holes on top. The bone-shaped snack had a hint of red, but it was brown.You went over to the white fur ball and fed the treat to him, while he wagged his tail in excitement.

As he was done eating the doggy snack, the door opened to reveal a tall man with brown wavy hair. His chocolate eyes were soft and welcoming. His body was lean, but well-built. He inched towards where you stood.

“Hello miss, I am here to check on the puppies today.” His soothing voice felt like a lullaby for your eardrums.

“Oh, yes. They are going to be adopted pretty soon, and we wanted to make sure that they are all ready for their new family.” You picked up the puppy you just fed.

He smiled at you, examining your beauty. You were gentle while carrying the pup and he just adored it. Your h/l h/c hair fell perfectly framing your face. Your e/c eyes shining radiantly, making the stars from above jealous. Your smile, warmer than the sun. How could he not help to fall for your charm?

“I am l/n y/n, but you can call me however you want.” You smiled at him.

“Well Ms. l/n, I am Hirugami Sachiro.” He shook your hand.

One by one, the puppies were being checked. Some were still and quiet while being checked. Others were chaotic (✨ chaotic ✨). Others on the other hand, let's just say they looked like they were going to fight Sachiro for no reason, in a cute way. Others were drama queens while vaccinating.

You held each pup and cuddled their furry heads to comfort and distract them from the check up.

Oh, poor Sachiro thought you were an angel that fell from the highest altitude. Just by being the most caring and gentle person ever.

“And this one is the last one.” You carry the white fluff ball that you had a connection with.

“Oh, he seems like a cutie.” He grabbed his tiny paws.

Just like you. He thought.

The two of you finished checking all of the pups and it was kind of exhausting. They acted like a bunch of tiny little humans, running around and sucking things that weren't edible.

“So, I will see you the next time, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his head.

“Yep.” Your cheeks tinted pink.

“Hold on, I wanted to ask you if you are willing to exchange numbers.” Sachiro gave a toothy grin.

You look into his warm brown eyes. Sure, you just met him today, and of course you had a tiny crush on. Why not?

“Sure, you can have my number.” You hand your phone over to him.

You dial each other's numbers and give each other's phone back.

“Thank you!” He bows down.

“No, thank you for coming to check up on these puppies.” You smile at him.

And there he goes again, his cheeks grew warm and with a hue. How adorable he thought you were.

A/n: well, here is another one shot for you all! I wrote this a few weeks ago. Hopefully you love it!!

If you want to request, here is the link

↪↪↪↪request

Thank you, come again soon!

______________________________________________

All rights reserved copyright ©

ennoshitas-princess

Please DO NOT repost on any other platform!!

Reblogs are acceptable

[child0feden]

HOME

øystein “ euronymous ” aarseth x pregnant! reader

♡ general headcanons for euronymous with a pregnant partner!

୨୧ you know how ellie and dina had that adorable baby and serene farm life in the last of us part II? yeah, that is the life i want with a black metal guy… i do not know why or how but i wrote this in like five minutes <3

♡ view my metal masterlist here

reading music recommendations: aint no grave by crooked still - witching hour by mayhem

♡ this entirely grown up man has the most deadly serious one sided rivalry with your pregnancy pillow!

୨୧ øystein just absolutely despises it and cannot believe you are seriously choosing to cuddle a damn pillow over him, he glares down at it with such burning hatred in his eyes every single night before you go to sleep…

♡ you try telling him that it is just kind of comfier than him right now but he does not believe it, he cannot believe it because how? he says you must just be having a bit of pregnancy brain and not thinking straight because there is no way a pillow is comfier than him

୨୧ you went through quite a little bit of your pregnancy making him sleep on the couch in the living room of your shared apartment because you just absolutely hated his immense body heat, it was the absolute worst time of his life! he did not fully realise just how much better it was to sleep with you in a comfy bed until it was suddenly stripped away from him…

♡ he absolutely fights to paint the nursery black, like he really puts up an insanely strong fight and says if it is any child of his, they will definitely love black

୨୧ it takes you at the very least a month to drill the answer of “ absolutely not ” into his little stubborn head

♡ but you probably do let him paint the mayhem logo somewhere in the room, just to give him something sweet…

୨୧ øystein tries to convince you to buy so many black baby clothes too, using the excuse of not knowing the gender and how black works on any gender! if it was up to him, the baby would look like they were attending a funeral every single day of their lives

“ vakker! please, come on, just get black clothes for the baby! we don’t even know what they are yet so black would be perfect for a boy or girl ” ( he will continue trying to convince you on this for hours if he has to, do not underestimate his confidence and pure burning will )

♡ it really does not matter if you agree or not though, he will buy at least some black clothes for the baby anyways! and it does not stop even after you find out the gender…

୨୧ i am so sorry but i just absolutely love girl dads so of course i am making him one now

♡ honestly i can see this unlucky ass guy knocking you up with twins on his first try too…

୨୧ but i am not going to go too deep into that here

♡ when you guys went to get your very first ultrasound together, he acts like such an overgrown child

୨୧ the second the little blob that is your very much still growing baby appears on the screen, he is making a semi grossed out and almost confused sounding “ eugh ” before you gently smack him on the shoulder, holding in your own snort at the sight of him with a scrunched up nose and confusion all over his face as he tries to decipher what it is that he is looking at

♡ øystein gently scoots the doctor aside and gets way too up close to the little black and white screen, proclaiming that yep, this baby will be a metalhead alright!

୨୧ how exactly did he get that from a blob of cells on an insanely grainy black and white screen? do not ask him questions like that, just trust him

♡ he practically demands the doctor print off at least ten of these ultrasound pictures, wanting to give some to his family and show off a few to his friends

୨୧ øystein shows the picture off just so much, he has probably even showed completely random customers in helvete, pulling the picture out of the pocket of his black leather jacket in the midst of ringing them up and telling them to “ check out his blob ”

♡ some of them probably have absolutely no idea what they are looking at and he sees that so clearly in their baffled faces, giving an overly dramatic huff and saying it again, but fixing his statement to be “ check out my baby ”

୨୧ he thinks it is freaky as hell when you go back again some time later and now it has grown legs and like, an actual little body and stuff… do not even get me started on how weirded out he gets when he sees the baby move around through the screen…

♡ honestly, that is when it really and truly fully sank in for him that holy shit he is having a baby, a literal child, a living being in just a few months! like you are really growing his child inside of you

୨୧ øystein was unusually quiet during that whole appointment, only giving quick head nods and husky mumbles when you spoke to him… at first you are scared as hell, thinking that maybe he might be having second thoughts about having a baby and is gonna leave you

♡ but when you are back in your shared apartment sitting together on the couch, he is just all over you! hugging you so tightly and kissing you all over your face, admitting that he is pretty damn scared but so damn excited

୨୧ øystein really hopes they come out wanting to learn how to play the guitar as they get older, he just really wants to teach them everything he knows and watch as they climb up the skill ladder with their playing

♡ he buys so many little black bows, shoes and dresses! he does not give a single damn that your baby is going to look like she is going to a funeral every day, he thinks that looks cool!

୨୧ whenever you have really weird cravings, he is smart enough to just not comment on them at all…

♡ well, he learned to be smart enough not to comment on them because one time you broke down sobbing after he scowled at and called pickles with nutella “ nasty as hell ” right to your face as you were eating them in front of him

୨୧ øystein had to spend a little over an hour of that day comforting you and calming you down, quickly backtracking on what he said and lying right through his teeth

“ awh, vakker… i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to say that! it looks good really, very… unique and exotic ” ( he can barely even get the words out with cringing as he can still smell the mix of nutella and pickle juice in the air around him )

♡ when you did finally manage to calm down with his help and love, you absolutely made him take a bite of one to really show you he is genuinely sorry and oh wow, that poor man ate it like a champ

୨୧ well, kind of…

♡ he very almost gagged and vomited on the spot but held it down just for you! swallowing his chewed up bite and giving you an almost pained smile before gently kissing your head and telling you it was “ very good ” as he quickly walked off to grab some water to wash his mouth out

୨୧ so now he just keeps his lips completely zipped but he will absolutely have a major stink face when looking at some of your strange new craving creations

♡ øystein really gets kind of scared of you when your horny levels are at an all time high because of your heightened pregnancy hormones

୨୧ usually he is the one groping your boobs and holding your hips, littering kisses all down your neck and feeling you up but now it is like he is getting a taste of his own medicine…

♡ you are just all over him, basically not even letting him move because if he does you will get suddenly upset and claim he probably thinks you are just so ugly now and he never wants to fuck you ever again in your entire life together

୨୧ and obviously that is not at all true! øystein finds you so hot when you are pregnant, he is always fondling your boobs and whisking you off to the bedroom to let you ride him, always whispering the dirtiest but absolute sweetest things in your ear

“ y’look so beautiful carrying my baby, you know that? so beautiful… should knock you up again right after you have our girl, hm? love seeing you like this ” ( the fuck he will, you will be waiting at least a year before getting pregnant again )

♡ the very first time the baby kicks is actually when he was talking to it! they are so insanely reactive when it comes to him and his voice, it is just crazy

୨୧ he thinks the baby kicking looks so damn awesome, it looks like something straight out of a horror movie to him, but definitely really cute too

“ fuck… how does that not hurt like crazy, baby? she’s really beating up your insides, huh? ” ( he is so unserious about things he says but you can see this gleam of just pure true love in his eyes as he observed his baby reacting to his voice )

♡ he loves to come up behind you and gently hold your baby bump up for you, helping you relieving the ache in your back as you lean back into him and feel his calloused hands softly stroking patterns into the skin

୨୧ øystein will tap your stomach as the baby kicks in response, slowly and softly swaying you back and forth in your place as he kisses your cheek

♡ another craving you probably get a whole lot is kebab food! you will wake øystein up at some utterly ungodly hour of the night, your eyes rimmed with tears whilst you whisper to him as he looks up at you with messy and tangled black hair spread across his pillow, his eyes still blinking rapidly as he wakes himself up

“ what? is something happening? what… you want food? god, seriously, vakker? no, it’s fine, don’t cry… i’ll… i’ll go get you some food, just let me get dressed… fuck ” ( he is not actually mad at you or anything! he is just very sleepy and kind of a slow sloth when he first wakes up )

୨୧ when grabbing your food from the kebab, he talks the poor shop owners ear off about how you pregnancy is going and how this is the third time this week that you have craved some kebab food, how he fears the baby might come and just be made of donor meat because of how much you eat it

♡ as if the shop owner does not know that though, øystein uses the same takeaway place just around the corner from your apartment every time and they are very familiar with you guys now, they will often put a lot of meat in your meal because they are really sweet people and øystein tips them well all the time under your demand

୨୧ øystein would absolutely play his guitar close to your baby bump, obviously not something crazy extreme and loud though!

♡ usually he will just play something short and low to teach the baby about what he does for a job, i might even say he sings to your stomach sometimes too! only when you are definitely sleeping though, he is so strangely embarrassed about it

୨୧ he often sings cute little norwegian lullabies and childrens songs remembers from when he was a child, making sure to be extremely quiet about it as to not wake you up

♡ he would just be such a partner and such good father <3

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Illuminated - A Frost/Reader One Shot Story.

@deathwhoregutfucker wanted some Frost fluff, so I wrote some :)

Words - 1,066

Warnings - Mentions of Frost's self-harm from UTLTU, but none other than that. Lotsa fluff!

A flash of black in a sea of white. He never fails to look a little out of place within your bedroom, with his near waist length curtain of black hair splayed out over his back as he sleeps, arms folded beneath the pillow he burrows his face into. Darkness bathed in celestial; a beauty unmatched. Your little void, you once called him. Of course, such a statement was met with a frown. He's very apt at frowning. 

“I’m not exactly little.”  

True enough. He stands at around six feet and has ample lean muscles. Especially those in his arms and back from his profession in battering the hell out of a drumkit. He offers a very delightful morning view when the sun streams in through the thin curtains, the white surrounding him acting as a natural illumination to the dark beauty taking up way too much room in your bed. No matter how much you nudge him, he still spreads again.  

You would take him and his starfish positions above not having him there at all, though. Every time. 

It’s that morning view your eyes roam over as you lie there slowly waking up, watching the way his arm positioning makes all the muscles in his shoulders and back flex, just about visible through his hair. God, he’s so pretty. You’d never call him that to his face, though. Oh, the frowning you’d receive, of course.  

Reaching across the bed, your finger traces the line of muscle that bulges the top of his arm, following it up to his shoulder and then down his back until finally, he stirs.  

One gleaming hazel eye opens. “Stop disturbing me.” 

“But it’s morning, time to wake up.” 

Your chirp is met by, yep, you guessed it. “I’m painfully aware it is morning. It’s too bright in here.” The frown is hidden as he returns his face to the pillow, groaning softly as he stretches. He hates your bedroom. Being in your bed with you is a different matter entirely, but the room itself? Oh, he had some thoughts upon awaking within it for the first time, not really noticing much the night before in the dark, his sole focus being upon you.  

“But why is it so white?” he’d asked, looking around, displeasure creasing his handsome features. 

“Because it’s a small space, so the white gives it a feeling of being bigger.” 

“Yes, I’m aware of the advantages of painting walls white,” he’d begun, gesturing with a hand. “But everything in here is white.”  

You shrugged, unbothered. “I like it.” 

“I don’t.”  

One might think him to be a stalwart of moodiness and little more from the above observances, but truly, he isn’t. The alter-ego of Frost is a different man to Kjetil. He’s still a very quiet individual, but much less dark. He makes you laugh more than some might think, for example, his humour very dry. 

He’s also extremely devoted, a very adoring boyfriend, evidenced that morning in his lazy affection as he wakes up more, grasping you and hauling your body across the bed to press himself against you. He melds to every contour, kissing your shoulder, a hand splaying out across your tummy.  

“It might be time to wake up, but it isn’t time to get up yet,” he murmurs, fingers circling, moving to your hip as he presses his face against the back of your neck. “You smell beautiful.” 

“I shouldn’t,” you remark, turning to face him, one hand propping your head as your other reaches to stroke over the dark smattering of hair covering his chest. “I woke up with sweaty boobs because of the amount of heat you radiate during the night.” 

He laughs softly, a short burst of amused sound through his nose. “I’m your own personal furnace.” 

True. He does run hot. “Which is great in winter, but during summer? Not so much.”  

“No,” he agrees, his fingertip trailing between your breasts. “I apologise, for the humidititties.” 

The snort of laughter that pulls from you, throwing your head back with a riotous cackle. “Did you make that up yourself?” 

He nods, moving to kiss your chest a few times. You can feel him smiling against your skin. 

“You’re very proud of that, aren’t you?” 

He starts to quiver with laughter, his chuckles filling the room. “I am, actually.” He hums contentedly, lifting your leg to rest over his hip, melding with you further, like two pieces of a jigsaw slotting together perfectly. “And I am fucking adamant that this room is still too bright. I’m buying you a blackout blind.” 

“Will you put it up for me, too?” 

He snorts softly. “Considering your history with screw drivers, yes. These lovely little hands do not need any further scars.”  

“You’re a fine one to talk about scars,” you say, your finger running over the one to the side of his neck, the one that had terrified you upon seeing it.  

He strokes your hand, pulling it away and kissing it. “Mine was not accidental, and I didn’t mean to scare you. Always trust I know what I’m doing.”  

It’s been months since he returned from Italy, where he did a live performance art piece that ended in him taking a knife and opening up one of his arms, as well as his neck. You always worried that one day, he might take it too far, that the darkness in him, the primal drive behind such visceral creativity would eclipse his very logical and well ingrained sense and reason. After he returned home, stitches holding together each huge gash, you cried in his arms and made him promise never to take it that far again.  

“But I won’t have to, because you won’t do it again, will you?” you speak again. He drops his gaze, your fingers lifting his chin. “Will you, Kjetil?” 

A particularly bright ray of sun comes through the curtains, illuminating him, his eyes looking like deep golden orbs as the lighter parts of hazel are picked out. “No, love. I won’t.” He then frowns, scrunching his eyes tightly shut. “But I will buy you that fucking blind.” 

A smile curves your lips, and he presses his mouth against them. “Today?” you ask. 

Turning you onto your back, his body blankets yours. “At some point. I have other things I must attend to first.” 

You happily let him. 

Author's note - Did you enjoy it? Please do comment and reblog if you did. It goes a long way to helping your hard-working authors!