#Cock&Swan

[boybasher]

Blue Balls 🎱 (my behind the scenes vlog and selfish beauty queen movie)

[battle-of-the-birds]

Remember to read about the contestants before voting!

Andean Cock of the Rock

Known for their mohawk head of hair and funny name, the Andean Cock of the Rock is the national bird of Peru. The males will join up in large groups, called "leks", performing for females who watch the hunk buffet. They mainly eat fruits and insects, however they will also feast on small lizards and amphibians. Learn More!

Mute Swan

The Swan. A big, beautiful bird often associated with love. However, we all know how aggressive large water fowl can be, and especially the Mute Swan is known for its aggressiveness. It will fight off any potential threats from its mate and his chicks, and their familiar pose of their wings lifted into an arch along their back is actually a defensive display, as well as being used or traveling long distances. But, swans have been known to mourn for the loss of their mates, so perhaps this truly is the most romantic bird of all. Learn More!

(Andean Cock of the Rock photo by John C. Mittermeier) (Mute Swan photo by Brad Imhoff)

[raajrajasharma]

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[hoseoksluna]

PROMISES | myg

pairing: idol!yoongi x f. reader

genre: fwb au / angst, smut

word count: 9.3k

summary: when you needed your social battery recharged by your fuck buddy yoongi, you didn't expect to have your undiscovered feelings for him reciprocated. 

pin: promise / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: strong daddy issues, slight dd/lg, manipulation, tiny rough treatmeant, edging, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), teasing, mixed feelings, oc is confused abt her feelings and the whole situation, fight, yoongi counts down, unprotected sex, pussy spanks, nipple play.

note: this has to be my worst work in the whole hoseoksluna universe. i'm terribly upset, disgusted, unmotivated. i wrote this all week, hated every second, and i'm sorry to say this is my last smut for a while. i'm really struggling mentally, i'm struggling with writing, and i don't know what to do anymore. i'm posting this a day early because i can't stand this fic anymore. i can't stand smut. you're free to skip this one until i get better.

You were a folded swan, drifting upon the smooth, glittering surface of a river that led nowhere—a dead end, bearing the face of a man you’ve been casually seeing for the past few months. A man that clutched adrenaline and tenderness in his fist like a bouquet of the prettiest woodland wildflowers, on top of which perched a note signed in your name. Scratchy Latin letters, doused in ebony ink, they had more life than you did at this moment; poetry-woven experiences that had you feeling life like life should be felt—drastically, enthusiastically and delightfully. Every vowel depicted the closure of each night you spent with him: mouth parted agape, through which the sweetest moans would erupt and saturate him in a certain kind of fatherliness, pride and manliness. 

It’s what you need, laying as you are on the linen sheets of your bed, dressed down to your lacy underwear that you thought would make you feel better, somehow would recharge your dead battery that was stuck on zero percent for longer than you care to admit. Father issues, dissatisfaction at your workplace, at your home life, at life itself. You were tired, your concentration running thin as you were watching your well-loved K-drama that you have seen a hundred times before. Through your vision, your own non-romantic interest would fly by, smiling down at you in your dejected state and form. Your body knows him more thoroughly than your heart, stirring erratically at the memories that would begin to flood your system. Tongue, lips, hands. His cock that he would tease you with, giving it to you and not giving it to you purposefully because he enjoyed the sight of your desperation for someone like him—a person who has seen the worst of life, its characteristics engraved upon his skin, and yet you still yearned for him, yearned for those scars. You didn’t have to tell him, but he knew. 

He knew by the way you would so very often trace the scar upon his shoulder, either with your fingertips or your lips. You were friends, fuck-buddies to be more precise. You were aware that someone entangled in a special friendship such as this shouldn’t do something like that, but you couldn’t help it. Yoongi taught you many times to listen to your body and you were doing just that. 

Following your body’s inclination to sink into his soul that he wasn’t too scared to let you inside of. 

He allowed you to do it to such an extent that the threat of his quick orgasm would appear and he would slip out of you, distract himself between your legs, make you come twice in a row—perhaps as a playful punishment, or perhaps as a reward. 

He saw you—and right now you need to be seen, folded in your forest-scented exhaustion while the river flows on, the trees sway on and everyone else passes by while you remain fixed on the same spot, stooped in your ungratified, seemingly unnamed problem. 

You can text him, ask for a quick fuck, something he’s very well acquainted with, used to at this point—so much that everytime you leave his place stuffed full of his cum, he stuffs you with something else as well. 

A promise for the next time.

A package of something to make you look forward to your tight-knit time spent with him. The last time, he had promised to take you to a running sushi restaurant, where you didn’t linger for long because you got fed up with the way other people would steal the sweet plates you wanted to try. He had fucked you in his car to make you feel better about your innate misanthropy and while he was balls-deep in you and you struggled to catch your breath, he promised you ice cream. With each thrust that squeezed your soul, he described how you’d enjoy each lick, the details of the flavor and how he’d buy you any ice cream you wanted. You hadn’t realized it then, within the stupor of your mind-numbing pleasure, but now as you are recollecting it, you perceive how bothered he was by the way other people ruined your night with him. 

And that rips open the restraints around the butterflies in your stomach. 

You want some ice cream—and more than that, you want to see him. Close your mouth around the adrenaline he’s always so willing to fill your life with. 

You don’t know what he’s doing at seven PM on a Thursday night. You usually meet him on Fridays or during the weekend if he’s working the day before. You’ve never shown him your neediness—and there’s a certain dangerous feel to it, baring yourself naked in this way, despite the fact he’s seen, touched, and licked every inch of you. And it’s hard for your brain to comprehend that you yearn for him when your social, emotional and physical battery is dead. If anything, you should be resting as you are, get right in order to be at your best for the next time you see him. 

But alas… 

With a sigh, you turn to your other side and reach for your phone that you’ve been charging, gliding your hands down the cable, imagining it’s his arm. And with a frustrated furrow of your brows, you tap on the circle above your messages. A pinned picture of him that you took, his face caught in his gummy smile against the dark backdrop of his car interior, filtrated with the twinkling lights of Seoul’s city buildings. Another sigh leaves you, one that exasperates you because why are you so needy for him? Why can’t you be a normal girl, independent, okay with your own company shared with the fictional people that you love? You’ve spent your girlhood like this, and happily so. Why does growing up mean you need the male energy more than your own? 

Biting your lip, your anxiety spikes up, but your desire for Yoongi overwhelms it, wins. And that settles a layer of calmness over it, gives the command to your fingers to type what they need to type. 

hi

what are you doing 

The bubbles don’t emerge from the dark motive of your chat until a few minutes later, the green of his message brightening up your phone—and your life, too. 

About to have a concert. Having a shot right now for your health. 

Oh, shit. A strange concoction of disappointment and a deep, low, murmuring stimulus rises in you. The swan in you elongates her neck, interested, but still dispirited considering her options. She will have to fold back into her form, and continue on her long, somber voyage back from the dead end, dwelling on the thrill of the flirtation of the man that she likes a little bit too much. 

Staring at the thick canvas of trees and shrubbery that aren’t letting you in to see him, you think about what to type, your thumbs hovering in the air. Life dislikes you; life wants you to suffer—

A ringing tone of your phone tugs you away from your distressed thoughts. The Latin letters of Yoongi’s name expand across the screen behind that picturesque and private shot of him, enlarged, stirring your heart. Silence spreads through your mind and your thumb quivers as you slide it across the bar to accept his call, placing the device against your ear. 

It feels as though you’re pressing the side of your head against his, especially so once you hear the warmth of his raspy voice pronouncing your name in his accent, marked by the liquor he drank prior to your messages. 

Enlivened, your body is. Just from that. 

“What’s up with you?” Yoongi asks, and the swan sails a little bit more swiftly, her tucked-in wings fluttering against her feathery body. You play with your necklace, your trembling so, so terribly evident. You’re glad he didn’t video call you, but the phone call is much more intimate and pleasant. 

You huff out a noise of desperation without meaning to and cringe at yourself, crunching up your features. Yoongi calls you by your name with a tiny hint of alarm and you curse yourself, silently. Your misanthropy gets pointed at you. 

“Noth—”

“Should I cancel my concert right now?” he suggests, cutting in, and you can hear the drunken playfulness in his voice, the one you have enjoyed on many occasions. Even acted out on your pleasure from it by making him, physically, feel good about it. You wish you could suck his dick right now, right before his concert, so he gives out his best for his fans. 

The sighs are ceaseless and you don’t bother to stop them at this point, your enlivened body soaking up in a swelling, unmet desire. 

“You’re sighing,” he notes, and you discern a cube of ice clinking in his glass, then a swallow of his throat, as if the indication of your yearning got him going, got him needing that burning liquid. “Are you horny for me?” 

Enlivened, your butterflies are, starting a war just from that sole question: desire versus your mental health. 

And using the vanilla scent of their wings, they remind you of the fact that you’re an adult woman and that you’re allowed, and more than allowed, to do whatever your body asks for. And if it’s asking for Yoongi, you’re going to go the extra mile to get him. 

Brazenly and femininely—and a little bit slyly. 

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m really craving that ice cream you promised me,” you say, lowering down your tone, and you play with the lacy lining of your bra. Think you can tease him with it for a good effect. “I’m wearing a nice lacy set right now.” 

Yoongi sucks in a breath and lets it out in a sigh that is entirely redolent of you, making your mouth curve in a soft smile. “What color?” 

Your expression of a muted joy expands as you tell him. “Red.” 

He swears, raspily, and the shade of your lingerie becomes more vibrant in the dimmed yellow light of your bedroom. And there you feel it—a more intense tendril of lust slithering down your sternum, moving your body side to side against your sheets in need. And the whimper that comes out of you is more primal than it is forced. 

At the sound, Yoongi pauses. You imagine him biting his lip, the gears in his brain turning, and he doesn’t disappoint you. He never does. 

“Do you have a dress of the same color?” he asks, small pants escaping his mouth, and you smirk. 

“I do.” 

He chuckles in personal delight. “Wear it for me. The set, too. I want to see it. I will pick you up after the concert and get you that ice cream.”

Your butterflies spring to your lungs, making it hard for you to breathe. And you don’t know whether to be glad, to be happy, to jump on your bed or to get ready. All those emotions simultaneously gather in you, spreading sparks of excitement down your nerve endings. And most of all, you want to hug him. 

You want to hug your adrenaline-infused angel. 

“Okay,” you agree, prolonging the vowel, the muscles in your cheeks aching. “How long is the concert?”

His delight leaks out through a deep hum, one that causes you to tense your body in feverish eagerness. “Two hours. Can you wait that long for me without touching yourself?” 

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip. Think you can wait however long for him, just as long as you get to see him. “I can, but my panties will be ruined. Sticky and uncomfortable.” 

The hum is strangled by his strained intake of breath, turning you woozy, your fingers itching to slide beneath your said panties, knowing his noises alone would make you come in seconds. You weren’t wet before he called, but now you can feel the center of the fabric dampening the longer you talk to him. 

“I’ll take them off as soon as I can. I promise. Hold it out for me.” 

And you believe him. You compress that promise into your hand, warming it up with your body heat before you tuck it safely into the chambers of your heart—and you wait. 

You wait for him to fulfill the myriad of his promises. 

You did hold it out for him, and brilliantly so. You watched one episode of your drama with a little bit more vehemence, despite the fact Yoongi swam past your thoughts more times than you can count. You’ve never watched him perform in real life as his own private life was always kept in secrecy from his fans, but your curiosity led you to search him up online and watch a playback of one of his more upbeat songs. Dressed in a long black coat, white shirt and a tie, your mouth was wide open, as well as your eyes, as you took in his ferocious energy, enhanced by his passion, and you never looked at him the same as before. He became someone else, a figure of brutal yet tender power and it made you want him even more zealously. 

The memories of that performance resurfaced in your mind every now and then, and his Agust D persona would melt into the male interest of the show, deepening your desire for him as you dreamed. 

Dreamed of reaching different highs with him. More profound, more devastating. 

A dream that could never come true. A promise that would never flow past his mouth. 

You didn’t let that ruin your night, however. As the second hour wrapped around you and your body lacked the heat it needed, you shut your laptop and stood up to your feet, walking over to your closet. Your fingers found that red dress you had spoken about first before your eyes did, silky and sleek amidst the thick, woolen fabrics of your winter clothes. It was the only nice dress you had, one you haven’t worn before, and you were thrilled you got to wear it for him tonight. 

It fit you like a second skin, hugging your curves just right, fading into the lacy linings of your lingerie. One would have to sharpen their gaze in order to notice it—and you wondered if Yoongi was going to scout it with his eyes first or with his fingers. 

The unknown excited you, so much that your panties gained that stickiness you mentioned in the phone call. And when you sat down to slide your feet into your black strappy heels, the feeling was so intolerable that you cringed—and your brilliancy ended there. 

How were you going to sit against your cold arousal for another hour? 

The awaited text didn’t come through until you were dousing yourself in your vanilla perfume. Yoongi was downstairs, waiting for you in his car. Left my lights on for you, he had typed to reassure you because he knew how anxious it made you, looking for his parked car in the dark when you couldn’t see anything. 

Your heart blossomed two times bigger when you checked it from your window. Yoongi in the passenger seat, scrolling through his phone, the headlights filtering through the mist of the deep of the night. You smoothed a hand down your tummy, calming your butterflies, and, reapplying your lipstick, you grabbed your coat and went outside to meet him. 

He spotted you long before you lifted your head to smile at him and he reached over to the side and opened the door for you. The motor was running, keeping the warmth intact for you, and you sighed in relief when you entered it—only to realize that Yoongi had turned on the seat heater for you. 

You melt into the leather, closing your eyes, the ambience of the present moment nestling upon you like the most delicate layer of snow that dissolves when you feel a swift breath along your neck and it’s Yoongi, lengthening his arm and closing the door while keeping his twinkling gaze on you and giving you a pleased smile. 

The butterflies kick against your stomach. 

“I was going to do that,” you say because you truly were—it’s just that the snug, comforting heat he prepared for you made you want to stop and bask in it as the short walk from your apartment building to his car numbed your bones to such an extent that you needed the time to defrost. And he quickened the process by placing an even warmer hand upon the nylon of your inner thigh that the slit of your dress and your trench coat exposed. “It’s just so cold.” 

He fondles the fabric of your tights on the top of your thigh with his thumb. A gesture of comfort that diffuses life down your legs and colors your cheeks in a shade of pink that irradiates the subdued atmosphere of the car. It’s hard to breathe—and it’s hard to resist him, keep yourself cool and not swing your leg over. 

Fuck the ice cream. You want something way creamier. 

“It’s only right I close it for you after I opened it,” he reassures, the deep tenor of his voice puncturing right through you, looking for your core, and you shift your hips, the discomfort of your wetness not allowing you to relax as much as you need. Yoongi’s eyes flick down to your movement and he parts his mouth as that distinctive smirk of his divulges his enjoyment in seeing you so horny for him. “Are you still sticky for me?” 

It’s now that you take the time to fully look at him. There’s a certain glossiness to his long hair that tells you he went home and took a shower before he got inside his car and drove through the quiet night to meet you. You can smell the rosemary of his shampoo and the usual minty aroma of his body wash, blended with his natural musky pheromones and the wood, the tangerine of his perfume. He’s the synthesis of your internal woodland, the breath of the trees that your swan inhales and a punishment, all in one; and you’re not sure if you can hold out any longer. Both emotionally, both physically.

“Very sticky,” you say, wrapping your hands around his arm, descending your fingers down the bulky, wooly material of his winter jacket like you were touching your charging cord—a temporary dream come true. You enclose your palm around his knuckles, think that if he feels how wet you are, he’ll realize that you sentimentally require more than he normally gives you—that your flesh will somehow tell him and give him the bravery to do so. 

But Yoongi doesn’t move an inch. His fingers remain fixed on the inner of your thigh, digging dents into the skin as you feel the bulging of his bicep the more you push his hand towards your wetly clothed cunt. His smile falls, his eyes droop—and the energy is charged with such unnamed intensity that you let go of your pursuit, slipping your fingers beneath the edge of his sleeve as a sign of your submission. 

That quickly. 

“You promised to hold out for me, didn’t you?” he asks, waiting for your agreement, and you nod, feverish, dripping with perspiration, with this great need that towers over you. “Then, be like Daddy and keep your promise or you’re not getting anything.” 

A shiver cascades down your spine—not merely from his authoritative voice, but from the role he dipped into that immediately puts you into yours. You begin to giggle, palming your mouth as the blush in your cheeks bursts and tears of overwhelmingness add a certain glint to your eyes that sparkles beneath the yellow-tinted car interior lights. And using this fatherliness of his, he interweaves your arousal around his long, piano fingers, announcing he’s its King. 

Your essence trickles out of the confines of your panties. 

“You’re doing this on purpose,” you whine, still giggling, you can’t help it. Yoongi takes after you, blessing you with that gummy grin of his that you adore so much. Your heart enlarges. 

“What exactly am I doing on purpose?” he challenges, kneading the flesh of your thigh, and he senses his answer right away. Your essence travels to his hand, stopping there, and once again Yoongi’s smile falls, eyes plummeting to it, hand lifting—and fingers gathering that warm slick. 

And it drips onto his own pants-clad thigh when he plunges his fingers into his mouth, shocking you to your core. 

“Yoongi—”

He hums in titillation, interrupting you, and smacks his mouth. For a brief amount of time, he seems to be in his own world as he tastes you on his tongue. And then, he takes those same fingers, turns the key in the ignition, moves forward the shift stick, and without sparing you a glance, he drives out of his usual parking spot and doesn’t hesitate to correct you. 

“Not Yoongi. Daddy.” 

You clamp your mouth shut. Think you need some kind of plug to stop your arousal from flowing down your thigh. Yoongi doesn’t mention what just happened throughout the whole drive, but you do notice his semi-hard manhood poking out of his groin area. You salivate, but don’t tempt him, squeezing your thighs together so tightly that your muscles cramp. 

You’ll save it for later. 

You listen to him talk about his concert experience of tonight while the drum in your clit matches the beat of the songs of his playlist. He speeds down the road, keeping his hands on the steering wheel and the shift stick, and he doesn’t look at you until he halts the car at the first red light. 

He smiles at you, knowingly. A dirty, dirty smile that turns your world upside down, vexes you deeply—enough for you to swivel your head in the other direction to ignore him because if you looked at him any longer like that, you’d be unbuckling his pants. But Yoongi does what he pleases. With his index finger, he whips your chin back to him, leans over and grins before he presses his lips against yours. 

A gentle, gentle kiss. One that does not mirror his demeanor. 

Your walls flutter, your whole body, too. Shock seizes you in its grasp at that gesture of affection and you can’t breathe—he’s stolen all of the oxygen in your lungs. The trees sway and bend, the swan in you dances quite buoyantly, despite the fact that a storm is coming. 

A storm of your emotions. 

He’s never kissed you like that—out of the blue, at the red light. He kisses you when he’s drunk, handsy and touchy-feely as he everlastingly is, but he doesn’t kiss you just like that when he’s sober. 

“You doing good?” he murmurs against your lips, ripping away the fingers of your shock, and it feels as though you’re waking up from a dream—only to glide, boundlessly, into another one. Yoongi waggles with your chin before he pulls away, the yellow light bathing him in its shade momentarily before the green blinks and he jumps back into his own world. 

Does he really think you won’t erupt in this storm? Disintegrate into smithereens and wipe everything clean that he is? 

“What was that for?” you ask, softly, your lips numb and aching for more of his tenderness, one that you would, in all honesty, die for. You trace the print of his own lips on yours, feel its heavy warmth, and you might as well be drunk just from that. 

You need a shot. And not just one. 

Yoongi bites his bottom lip. “You’re holding out so well. I thought you deserved it.” 

You roll your eyes back—not from raw annoyance, but from the pristine pleasure you receive from the dominant, fatherly energy of his words. Suddenly, you don’t know what to do with your hands, what to say, what to think. What you do know is that you surely will be crying into his pillow by the time this night is over and he’s fast asleep. 

But you can’t cry much. Can’t wake up with puffy eyes. Can’t reveal to him the gravity of your feelings. 

You don’t even remember the moment you realized you loved him. Think you loved him the first time you laid your eyes on him, but you buried it deeply in you—so deeply that you didn’t even recollect your feelings when Yoongi told you, straight away, that this was just a friends with benefits kind of arrangement. Truth be told, this business is the sole kind of relationship you can give him as you hate men. Always hated them. But you don’t hate him. 

He’s not them. He’s different. 

You may have wanted adrenaline and joy tonight, but as you dwell in this state of mind of yours, you slouch deeper into the leather and come to a heartbreaking understanding that you’ll never be happy in this life. 

The night-clothed streets pass by you in soft shapes in colors, disappearing instantly out of your view. And the woodland, the trees and the swan, they disappear, too. Shrouded by the fog of your abysmal sadness. 

***

Yoongi took you to such a small hotel that its luxuriousness pierced your eyes with its glorious light. You thought you were dining and ending the night at his place, but once Yoongi ordered your favorite shots of sweet rum with cocktail cherries, you perceived you were staying here. Perceived he was unknowingly giving you the opportunity to drown your feelings in alcohol as well. 

You almost didn’t wait for him to take his own shot before you downed yours, but hearing the click of his tongue, you stopped midway. And to make sure you did wait, he placed his palm upon your wrist, bringing your arm down onto the table as he ordered your dessert. 

Chocolate ice cream, just for her. Thank you. 

He made everything worse. 

You weren’t sure why you wanted to be so good for him, listening to every order of his that came to his mind. Why you wanted that validation, that praise. You could just do whatever you desired—it wouldn’t scratch your relationship with him. You could be bad and he wouldn’t mind. Hell, you think he would even enjoy it. But why is it your inert yearning to please him so much? It’s devastating—and it’s your personal ruination. Because the more you do things that caress his ego, the deeper the abyss of your feelings for him goes. 

You shouldn’t. Not in the construct of your friendly relations. For the sake of your well-being.

You pry his fingers away and take that shot, watching his eyes grow large in their surprise. You never slide the cherry along with the liquor into your mouth, so once you swallow it, you open it wider and begin to chew it. His brows twitch, his own mouth parting at the sight and he leans back into his chair, completely submitted and enthralled by your act of defiance. 

And it feels good, going against him like that. Living your life by your own decided rules, and not his. 

You don’t hesitate to gulp down the other shot, but it’s not the slight burning of the liquid that gives you the buzz. It’s the way he seems to be completely pleased by your self-will, smiling lazily at you with his head tilted to the side. It propels you to steal his shot, too, and the brief facade of his pleasure collapses. A dark tendril of concern lines his eyes and those brows that twitched furrow, casting a dusky shadow over those slits. 

Now he’s aware of it, the tornado that spins within you. But he doesn’t know the cause of it, the decadent poetry verses that cover it. 

And he’ll never know—he’ll never read them. Because you’d much rather keep it in secrecy than risk losing him for all eternity. Feelings can be hidden, feelings can wander off, lose their bearings until they no longer remember that your body used to be their home. But Yoongi… he’s a person that you meet once in a lifetime. And losing him would mean that you lost not just your life, but the blood pumping in your veins as well.

It’s wrong, being attached like that to someone, regard him this way. And you’re cognizant of the fact it’s temporary—and for that sole reason, you bask in it. Because your life would be prosaic, and not poetic, if you didn’t. 

That is the motto you carry in your pathetic, but strong heart. 

And the darkness of his concern, it intoxicates you more than the last shot you take. 

The backdrop of dining and chattering people sway, just like your past trees, behind him. Manifestations of foreign lives you’ll never witness twice in your life, that are a part of you today and will part from you tomorrow. Yoongi, in the middle, remains stable. A beacon of light, unmoving, a great pillar of fixedness and steadiness. He peers at you through the thickness of his eyelashes, his aura solemn, no longer playful. Your sighs emit out of you in a constant stream while your eyes roam at everything in motion but him and he seems to strongly, strongly dislike that. 

“What’s up with you?” he asks for the second time around this evening, but the question has a loftier ring of seriousness to it. It passes through you, puncturing you until it pokes out of your back and transforms into a pair of monumental wings. Ones, upon which your feelings are mockingly hung, for his eyes to see, but not to recognize.

And the swaying of your body brings forth wetness to your eyes, for it is an anamnesis of the inner world you lost due to the comprehension of your feelings. 

“Nothing,” you say for the second time around, too. A hefty blanket of silence is thrown across the table, scattered with empty shot glasses that were meant to be shared between the pair of you. Unable to look at him, your eyes drop to them, count them—one, two, three, four—and then your irises wind up at his clenched fist. At the white valleys of his knuckles that are composed only when his fingers are wrapped around a microphone. And the blanket of the silence is warmer than the warmth he has given you—a sweltering layer of heartsickness that you can’t bear. With your drunk brain, you think you should pierce it, as if with a needle, with a response to a question he didn’t ask you. “I haven’t eaten much today, that’s why I’ve gotten drunk so quickly.” 

Yoongi runs a tongue down the inner flesh of his cheek. Ponders the information you have given him before he scolds you. “You didn’t eat and you drank four shots in a row. You won’t tell me what it is, fair enough, but I know you’re hiding it behind the pretense of you being horny.” 

His head swivels to the side, sensing a presence. And he watches as the waitress puts down an ornamental plate of two scoops of chocolate ice cream in front of you. You don’t pay her a second of your time. You set your eyes on Yoongi, on the darkness of his energy that you are ever so slowly and magnetically pulled to. 

Yes, he sees the problem, but doesn’t recognize it. He sees the shape of your wings, but he can’t recognize their color. 

The solidness of his call-out quivers. You’re not sure if you’re hiding it; you’re no longer sure about anything at this moment, but you don’t care. You have to stick to your secrecy, you have to keep your feelings safe and tucked away, no matter how far on the edge of the cliff they are. 

“I’m not hiding anything. I was horny,” you retort, not caring that the waitress is still present, picking up your shot glasses. Yoongi gives you a look while you tip your chin down and gaze at him through your long lashes—just like he did. A taste of his own sweet poison. And then you lift your foot and rest it between his outstretched legs, the sole of your stilettos pressing lightly against his soft groin. 

This is fun. This is the adrenaline you were seeking. Who would’ve thought you would be your own provider of that. 

Surprised by the abruptness of your act, he doesn’t let it show on his face, but his hands drift upwards from his thighs before he settles them around the bridge of your foot. He waits for the waitress to finish her job and, sensing the pressure, she scurries away without asking if you wanted to order another round. 

And in her absence, Yoongi begins to touch you. 

He sails his fingernails from your toes up to the thin strap of your shoe, wrapping them around your ankle. He squeezes your limb once, warning you about something you don’t know, his eyes tiny, tiny slits. Perhaps if you keep up with this, the night won’t end so prettily like it normally does. 

But you don’t believe it. You refuse to. And to be frank, you can’t. 

You shall have your fun. 

“Eat your ice cream before it melts,” he orders like the father he is, pointing at the dessert with his irises. 

You look at it, at the bits of the chocolate bars jutting out of it, then back up at him. “Feed it to me.” 

The slits break, his eyes enlarging. His reaction spreads all across his face—brows curling upwards, mouth parting, his thumb absentmindedly swiping across the skin of your shin, exposing how much he liked your request. Such an intimate place for that to happen. 

Then, he examines his surroundings. Then, he gets up from his chair and sits next to you on the booth, taking a hold of the spoon and your leg simultaneously, hooking it over his thigh. Scoops the ice cream and turns to you, his arm suspended in the air. 

“Open,” he rasps, and your eyes wet first before your mouth complies, opening wide for him. Yoongi slides the spoon into your mouth with expert gentleness, careful not to hurt you, and your first tear of the night cascades down your cheek when your mouth closes around the silver, your tastebuds cheering due to the chocolate flavor that overwhelms them. 

Yoongi, the man that could never disappoint you. Yoongi, the man who has given you more fatherly love than your own father ever did. 

How could you not love him? How could you not want more from the casualness of your relationship with him when he treats you like this? When he prepares a warm faith in men within your chest, a wet soil—out of which the tenderest sprout of joy shall grow? 

The second tear cascades down. The ice cream melts on your tongue. You swallow. 

Yoongi sighs, dropping his hands, the corners of his eyes rounding in an emotion you’ve never seen upon him. “You have to tell me what’s going on.” 

Your wings, swan-like, flutter behind you, ruffling the hair on the crown on his head. “The ice cream tastes good.” 

You brush away your tears, lamenting your foolish mistake, and fold your hands on your lap. Give him a teary smile that you can’t hide and open your mouth for him again. Yoongi doesn’t say anything as he continues to feed you and frown at you, not until another waitress comes and asks if you wish to order another round. His anger is evident in his voice as he turns her down, stating you won’t be drinking any more than you have. 

And again, he makes everything worse when he wipes your mouth clean after you finish the dessert. Pats your head to reward you. 

You hold your tears, watch him pay for you, give him your hand when he leads you towards the elevator up to the room where you’ll be staying tonight. 

Him, completely sober; you, drunk out of your mind. 

He doesn’t let go of your hand, even as you and him stand side by side, the silence as thick as death. You can’t stand it, can’t do anything else but to break it all over again. Though this time, you don’t do it with words. 

You do it with your actions. 

Stumbling on your feet like a freshly-born fawn, it’s only then that Yoongi looks at you. Holds you steady as you move in front of him to face him. He doesn’t swim along the current of all these brown shades of the elevator, but you can see a deep emotion waving through his ice-cold eyes that heat up, melt and droop when you envelop your arms around his neck and press your face against the side plane of his, kissing him there a hundred, a thousand times. You sink your fingers into the hair at the nape, tracing circles along his scalp and Yoongi shudders, breathes evenly against you, and it reminds you of the wind that swept past your woodland—the one that made your trees sway. 

All of that is gone because of your mistake. 

And something tells you that nothing will ever be the same. That something groundbreaking awaits you once these elevator doors open. 

And they open too quickly. 

Breaks your wordless actions that speak your gratitude for his fatherly behavior by gathering you into his arms, carrying you out of the elevator. Doesn’t let your aching feet touch the ground until the snugness of the tiny room welcomes you in. A queen-sized bed, a mirror across the wall that faces it, a round table by the balcony. It would be stifling if you were here alone, but Yoongi, somehow with his domineering energy, enlarges the room—makes it his. 

He empties out his pockets. Phone, wallet, keys. A white lighter and a pack of cigarettes. His jacket follows next, hooking it around one of the chairs, and once he notices your wavering feet, he sits down at the edge of the bed and sheds your trench coat, throwing it over his own jacket. Bends at the waist and takes off your heels, one by one. Only then, when you’re comfortable, does he set you down in the center of his lap. And you realize that the mirror is right in front of you. 

You watch him through it. Watch his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck; watch your own form disappear into the buffiness of his body as his hands begin to roam. His watch glints in the dim light of the room and his own being coalesces, becomes one with the murkiness. 

You want to do that, too. Forget who you are. Forget what you’re feeling. 

Tears prick at your waterline and you let out a pained sigh. Another foolish mistake of the night, one you’re about to pay for. 

“Talk to me,” he begs, a wisp of a tiny whiny weaving into his voice inconspicuously, but you catch it—and it vibrates through you, weakening you. It makes it so much harder for you, his unyielding need to know what’s troubling you, but how can you tell him? How can you risk never seeing him again? 

You remain silent, painfully so. 

Yoongi lifts his head from your neck and stares you dead in the eye through the mirror, chilling you down to the bone. 

“You truly think I’m just a guy you fuck?” he spits, his anger on full, unabashed blast that you should’ve seen coming with your restrained behavior, but it’s better to take his anger than to take his absence—and you shall devour that emotion of his. His question causes a hiccup to ensue in your chest, the secrecy of your feelings leaning over the edge of the cliff. Dangerously, dangerously close. “That you can’t confide in me? You think I’m just gonna fuck you and pretend I didn’t see you cry?” Your eyes dart away, a heavy load of agony settling over your heart, but Yoongi prevents you from looking away. Makes you look at him by grabbing your chin and keeping your head still, facing the mirror. “Is that what you want? You want me to be this kind of asshole?” 

You bite your lip, not knowing what to say, not knowing who you want him to be, not wanting to be in this situation at all. But Yoongi can’t stand your silence. Can’t stand the privacy of your trouble, as if he inertly knows that it has something to do with him. 

He softens his touch, but he doesn’t do the same with his voice. 

“Answer me.” 

You cry out in unnamed desperation, which propels Yoongi to lift your head up to him, so you can look at him—so you can see how much this matters to him. The emotion in his eyes vivaciously thumps, urging you to speak to him. He holds you to him like this, gripping your cheeks with the littlest amount of pressure, sucking in small breaths and you can’t. You’re going to explode if he keeps at it, and you’re going to die.

“Yoongi,” you whisper, tiny cries emitting out of your throat, and it’s almost a cry for help. You bunch up his T-shirt in your trembling fist, seizing the solidness of him like your fear seizes you, and you don’t know whether to run or stay put on his lap like this. You’re appalled about where this is going and you’re certain that the same dead end is impatiently seeking you—

Yoongi shushes you. Averts his hand and caresses your hair down. Kisses your forehead, where he lingers a few long seconds that subdue the expression of your storm. Waits until your breathing evens out, so he can unravel the words swelling in him. 

“Even if you asked me, I couldn’t be this kind of asshole to you,” he reveals against that plane of your face, punctuating his sentence by pressing his nose against yours. And you can’t believe his actions, you can’t believe the kind of affection he’s bathing you in; it lessens your fear, slashing it apart until there’s nothing left of it. “Something is hurting your heart and that bothers me. And what pisses me off most of all is that you think I can’t help you.” 

You sniffle and slide your hand upwards to his neck. Try to memorize every inch of this paintwork that your life is graced with as tomorrow won’t have the same paints, the same brushstrokes—

“I’m not gonna fuck you. If you want to be touched, I’ll touch you, but don’t think for a second you’re coming tonight, not if you won’t talk to me,” he murmurs and you gasp, lowly, your wings slumping limply.

The promise of him fucking you was your only salvation for tonight. You gaze up at him with wide eyes, your mouth falling agape, unbelief clutching you at the intensity of his stubbornness. 

And you want to know the meaning behind it. 

“Why?” 

He scoffs, kissing your cheek as if you were a baby he’s cradling, and you can’t take it anymore. You untangle yourself from his grasp and stand up to your feet, your back against the mirror. Yoongi peers at you disapprovingly and then he shakes his index finger at you. Your legs mimic the same movement, trembling, weakening at that. 

“You need to be taught a lesson,” he says and flattens his lips, pauses before he opens his mouth again, but you stop him, despite how much you like it. 

“No, Yoongi. Why are you treating me like this?” 

He props his knuckles against his thighs. A powerful, powerful stance. Curls his lips around his teeth. “Like what?” 

You reflect him. “Like I’m something more.” 

Yoongi chuckles, humorlessly, at that. You spewed it out so rapidly that you don’t realize what you said until he lets out that noise that returns the drum to your sensitive parts. And briefly, as if you uttered something stupid, you grow smaller and smaller—until his following words change your life once and for all. 

“Because you are and because you always have been,” he rasps, the corners of his mouth downturning for a split second, exposing his own secrecy that brings you to your knees. They scruff against the white carpet, stained by time, and Yoongi’s eyes flash with light to see you in this position. 

Your heart hammers with more life than it ever had, with a kind of adrenaline it never felt before, and wetness clouds your vision, misting this situation in a cloud of disbelief. Your lungs fail you, shuddering underneath his hard gaze, and they swell greatly when Yoongi clasps your face in his hand, the one that pointed at you so fatherly, so devastatingly. 

“You’re not just a girl I fuck and I know I’m not a guy you fuck. What we have is irreplaceable, what we do has always been something more, beyond the label we gave it and I regret it,” he lets out, a pained sigh—just like yours—wafting over your features, and Yoongi leans over, propping his elbows on his knees, his other hand joining your face, fingers gripping your hair on each side. “I should’ve treated you more properly, with respect. Take you out on dates. Get to know you. Wait before you let me touch you… because that is what you deserve. You’re not a girl to mess around with. You have a dignity that needs to be taken seriously, that needs to be respected and I wish I had done that. I wish…” he trails off, clicking his tongue in ultimate regret, and you break. You break, break, break. Sob in his hands that hold you so steadily, that give you life, adrenaline and a new meaning to your whole being. Suffocate under his watch, the earth-shattering notion that this has changed the course of your trajectory of your relationship with him forever constricting your throat. “I wish I had allowed myself to court you like you deserve. I wish I had been better mentally, but I’ll make everything right if you want me to. If you want me as much as I want you, I’ll make it right. I’ll try my hardest.”

Your own words, your heartstrings tangle up in a complex manner. Your tongue twists, your speech held back, and you have no control over what comes out of your throat. You’re crawling through a limbo that has no end and each movement you make, the way back gets erased. You need to keep going before it swallows you, but you need him to lead you. You need him inside your skin, inside your heat, inside your mouth. You need to be connected to him in a way you’ve never been connected to him before. You need his breath in your lungs—and your attachment to him bursts in flames. 

Sated, elated, magnificent. 

“Fuck me and make me yours, Yoongi.” 

He sucks in a breath as if he didn’t expect you to accept his favor. The light in his eyes soaks his irises in wetness and his mouth trembles in a tender emotion before he smashes it against yours. And within that lip lock, the swan in you is reborn. 

A baby swan, learning how to sail upon this new, new river—needing her father more than ever before. 

The kiss is hard and the kiss is catastrophic. Yoongi moves his mouth against yours, sucking every bit of your old life out of you to fill you up with newness. Lifts you up and sits you back on his lap. But the kiss is too brief and you soon perceive that his anger hasn’t been shunned out. 

Wet and blue flames lick over his black pools. 

“Not until you tell me what’s bothering you. What I said still applies.” 

The zipper slides down, the straps follow suit—and your silk is ripped away from your body that Yoongi turns over and moves to his preferable position, cradling you sideways like a child. And there—as he gives you a once over, studying the red lace of your lingerie, the swell of your breasts, the little valley of fat upon your tummy, the ruination of your panties and the stickiness of your thighs—there you realize that he’s as punishing you as much as he manipulating you into telling him. 

And it’s as arousing as it is bad. 

His free hand begins to roam while the other one holds you close, wrapped around your back, preventing you from running away. It ghosts over your breasts, causing your spine to arch into his palm and his throat to emit a delicious groan that drenches your panties. His fiery hand ventures down, his tongue gracing you with little praises of how beautiful you are, and when he reaches the V-line of your private parts, he discovers how much his deep voice and his touches affect you. 

He lifts his fingers and catches them glistening in the orange light. And this time, he doesn’t plunge them into his mouth. No, he sinks them inside your own. You swirl your tongue around them, coaxing that throaty noise of his that makes your hips buck up. Your tangy sweetness stupefies you and your so-loved woodland is remolded by that intimate act. By your connected gaze that could start a foreign war and bring the world down. 

“Suck on them,” he orders, and you comply. Hollow out your cheeks, make sucking noises as you find everything you ever searched for in his eyes. Stability, warmth, a father. Switch, cutely, between sucking them and dancing your tongue around them. His index and pinky fit just right between the elongated clefts of your cheeks and he coos, grows hard underneath you, kisses the tip of your nose, onto which he whispers: “Such a good little girl.” 

You moan and he reacts so trenchantly fast, withdrawing his fingers and using them to slide your panties to the side, placing them on your clit and not moving. 

“So swollen,” he comments, kissing you for a beat of time without closing his eyes, without missing this moment. “I like it when you’re like this. Swollen, dripping and so horny for me. Like I’ve never taken care of you before.” He glides his fingers down, past your lips to your hole before going back up, rooting on your throbbing clit before starting over. He etches desperation into your veins, stirs your butterflies to madness, and you breathe heavily. “No one will ever see you like this. No one, you hear me?” 

Your nod is automatic, thoughtless, and he’s pleased to the core. Enough that he begins to massage circles on your clit, your wings fluttering, no longer limp, but full of zest. And he can sense it—and it touches him so much that he deepens the pressure while the circles remain agonizingly slow. Your body writhes. Yoongi smirks down at you, grins fully when you clutch the nape of his neck and make little noises into his T-shirt. And just as soon your vision begins to blur and you reach the cusp of your orgasm, he stops.

“What’s hurting you?” 

He reciprocates your feelings, so you have no reason not to tell him. It’s more of a problem with your speech. You’re so fucked out that you can’t speak. 

Yoongi waits for a few seconds before he spanks your pussy. Maneuvers you so you can look at yourself in the mirror, your back against his chest, and he collects your arousal while he pins back your thigh, drifting all four of his fingers along your femininity, stimulating you and punishing you at the same time. Then, he lets you see your slick trickling out of his digits. 

“Look how wet you are, don’t you want to come?”

He’s a dark figure behind you while you are a small creature, spread wide, drooling, dressed in a sinful shade of red that doesn’t indicate her purity, whose smeared red mouth leaks loud, whiny whimpers when he sticks one of those fingers inside your heat, adding another one right away once you accommodate around him. He fucks you with a force that reverberates throughout your whole body and his name that pours out of your mouth like a prayer is a cry for help all over again. He pumps his fingers and pulls away, edging you in such a sinister way that drives out your tears. 

He worsens your condition—like he invariably does. But the rapidness of his pace, it unlocks your mouth, it untwists your tongue, and you begin to babble. 

Incoherent words, nonsense noises; sounds that blossom in volume when he withdraws ultimately, pushes the lace of your bra away from your breasts and kneads them with wet fingers. 

And you erupt, at last, when he flicks your nipples. You flood his pants-clothed thighs and knees, your slick streaming all the way to the carpet. And the river continues on with his words.

“I know you want this cock. I know you want it deep in you. But you’re not getting it if you don’t tell me right now what it is you’re using me to forget about,” he whispers into your ear, tweaking your nubs, his hands descending down your body and pinching your clit. You cry out, the aftershocks of pleasure dizzying you, his manipulation technique in full effect, and you’ll give it to him. Because of his cock, because of his affection. “You have three seconds. One, two, three—”

“I love you,” you confess, screaming it out of your lungs, and his eyes enlarging and his mouth parting in shock is all you see before you’re thrown on the bed.

Before your panties are ripped in half and flung behind him. 

Before your pussy is eaten and fingered in a way that makes you come in four heartbeats. 

Yoongi’s skilled tongue flicks your clit, his fingers curl in that special spot that bespeckles your vision with the stars of the night sky beyond the hotel room window. And you don’t latch onto the fact you’ve drenched him with your juices until he straddles your thigh, arches over you and kisses you with love-drunkenness, his fingers sliding back inside. 

And he doesn’t start fucking you until he confesses something, too. 

“I love you, too.” 

His digits drill you, his eyes pierce your soul and your orgasms are countless like this, not bound to time, not bound to anything at all. You squirt on him, bathe him in the newness of your relationship, cleansing off the old. And then he’s inside of you, murmuring reassuring words against your mouth about how that shouldn’t be troubling your heart. And you cry, you sob, you scream, overtaken by it all, your mouth numb by his constant hard kisses and if you ever belonged to him in the past—you didn’t. Because at this moment, as he stuffs you full of his cum, you’re interwoven into his DNA for all eternity. 

One that he nurtures as he holds you in his arms and asks you about how long you’ve loved him. And he in return tells you that he loved you the moment you first had a taste of what he could give you—laughter, guidance, and orgasms. All from the first date. 

And when you kiss him for the last time before sleep steals you away, you know that you’ll never lack adrenaline in your life ever again. As long as you’re with him, you’ll be on the receiving end. And his unchanging promises will make you look forward to each day, your batteries charged and green—like your blooming woodland.

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.

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[coldfanbou]

Kinkcember Day 11: Stepcest (once more)

Welcome to day 11 where we return to stepcest with a little bonus. Anyway, some of you may ask why we're doing this kink again. It's fully because I get a lot of similar requests from y'all, so I decided I would choose at max 2 fics of the same kink. It's the way I like to do things.

Length 2K

Swan x Mreader

There was a knock on your door; you sighed, wanting just five minutes of peace. Since you’d got home, you had received none of that. Instead, your parents left you in charge of your stepsister Swan when you wanted to go out with friends. It wasn’t often that you came home after all.

You open the door, “What do you want?” you ask, turning your head to look at your TV.

“Can you drive me to my friend’s Halloween party?” You turn your head back to Swan and notice her outfit, a black bunny suit that left little to the imagination. Her breasts bulged out, nearly spilling out of the top, and the high cut of the suit showed off her thick legs.

You consider your options, your mind filled with thoughts of Swan going to a party dressed like that. Without a doubt, she was trying to get attention; it was how she had always been since you met her.  Swan notices your staring; the cogs in her mind begin to turn as she moves her eyes up and down your body and sees your growing bulge. “I can make it worth your while.” She says, placing her hands under her arms and raising her breasts. The smirk on her face tells you how confident she is you’ll agree. Having only known each other for a few years, you never really developed a strong sense of family. Still, you knew it would be wrong to accept. “C’mon, you’ve always liked staring at them, and here I am offering them to you.” Swan tugs at the top of her bunny suit, making it flop over, revealing her bare breasts to you. As the only barrier holding them back falls, they drop, jiggling as they come to a stop. You stare at them; they are massive, Swan’s tits are topped with light brown nubs.  She reached for them, rolling them between her fingers as she waited for your answer.

“Alright, fine. Come in.” You tell her. Swan smiles and shuts the door behind her before walking to your bed and kneeling. She reaches up, pulling at the waistband of your pants teasingly.

“I didn’t think it would be that easy to convince you,” Swan says, hooking her fingers around your underwear so she can pull both garments at the same time. “Let’s see what you have, big brother.” She says mockingly, like an insult meant to make you feel bad about having your stepsister give you a titjob. Swan’s cocky attitude disappears as she pulls down your pants, and your cock smacks her forehead. She leans back, letting it slip off her head. Her eyes follow your cock, and she hesitantly reaches for it. Grabbing it, Swan strokes your cock slowly, moving from base to tip. She feels your pulse through your veins. Swan gulps as her eyes wander back up to you. She scoots closer and places your cock between her breasts. It’s hot, and your musk surrounds her. Swan gathers her saliva, and she dribbles her spit onto your cock. It rolls off your shaft and between her tits.

Swan’s eye moves between your cock and your eyes before she presses the soft mound together around your cock. The tip pokes through the top, amazing Swan as she slowly begins to pump your cock. You groan as you enjoy your stepsister’s tit around your cock. As it becomes slick, she speeds up and drops more of her spit between her tits. They start shining as her spit moves to cover the beautiful mounds. “Cum already!” Swan says a mixture of frustration and want. The longer this went on, the more she wanted your cock, she was trying so hard to push it out of her mind, but it was a losing battle. 

“Why don’t you suck on it then? Then I’ll take you to your party.” Swan grumbled but agreed quickly. As she moved your cock between her breasts, she leaned down and kissed the tip. Instinctively, she licked her lips. Precum had stained them, and she got her first taste of you. She felt something inside her stir, some kind of hunger. Swan went back for more; she stuck her tongue out and lapped at the head when it poked out between her breasts.

Swan could feel herself getting wet as she tasted more of your precum. Her mind became fixated on your cock; she let go of her breasts, letting them bounce as she took your cock in her hand and began stroking it. She bobbed her head, letting her tongue run across the tip of your cock. She reached down, moving the bottom of her bunny outfit to the side, and began toying with her clit. Swan’s moans gave you more pleasure as her throat vibrated. You were on the edge of cumming, and Swan knew it. She felt your cock throbbing in her mouth, and she was getting desperate for your cum. You were her stepbrother, and she wanted you more than ever. She looked at you with pleading eyes, silently asking you to cum in her mouth. You saw her pretty face begging for it, and you didn’t hold back. You grabbed the back of Swan’s head and pushed her to the base of your cock before cumming. She tried to fight you at first, putting her hand on your thigh to push you away, but as she got a taste of your cum, her body gave in, and her mind followed. Her grip softened, and she leaned in. Swan’s eyes became half-lidded as she continued to gently suck your cock, drinking every drop of cum you had to offer.

Seeing your stepsister like that turned you on, keeping you hard. Swan was still playing with herself, her hand slowly moving between her folds. You place your hand under Swan’s chin and tilt her head back. She opens her mouth, showing you how she drank everything. “Let’s keep going.” Swan nods, standing up slowly. You reach toward Swan and grab one of her breasts, squeezing it as you push Swan onto the bed. She moans softly as she feels your hand roughly grope her tit. She looks at you with needy eyes. You take a close look at Swan, noticing her beauty for the first time. You lean in and kiss her. She welcomes the kiss, wrapping her arms around your neck as she pulls you in closer. You climb over Swan, moving your hands to her thick thighs, gripping them tightly. Your cock twitches against her wet slit.

Swan whimpers through your kiss as she feels your cock rub against her. “I want you,” she says weakly. You want her, too. You spread Swan’s legs and rub yourself against her slit. You were driving yourself and Swan crazy. You align yourself with Swan’s entrance, looking into her eyes before pushing past her lips and moving inside her. You both moan; as wrong as it is to be having sex with your stepsister, it feels so right. Connected to the young woman, you bury yourself inside her. Swan pulls you closer to her, pressing her lips against yours as your cock twitches inside her. “You’re so big,” she whines, reaching one hand down to her cunt. “You’re going to break me.”

You’re buried deep inside Swan. Her breathy moans fill the room as she grinds herself against you. As much as you were stretching Swan, she was loving it. You begin pulling out slowly, her walls refusing to let you go. You push back in slowly, hitting her womb. Swan wraps her legs around your waist, using her legs to try and push you deeper. Her warm core makes you crave more from your stepsister. You pull out again and thrust in faster than before. Every thrust that follows becomes faster and faster until you reach a good pace, your bodies clapping together. Swan’s tits bounce and jiggle as you drive your cock inside her. You attach yourself to one of her breasts, your tongue circling her nipple as you drive your cock deep into Swan. She grips you tightly, whining as she feels your cock crushing her womb.

“So good!” Swan cries out, the tension in her body building as you continue to drive your cock into your stepsister. You felt at home inside her and never wanted to pull out. Swan felt similarly; being filled by your cock felt right to her. Part of her wondered why the two of you had never done it before.

The tension in Swan’s body slowly built with each thrust. It tensed around you, and you could feel her nails digging into your skin. You could feel your orgasm coming, too. Your cock began to throb inside Swan. “I’m going to cum,” you grunt as you continue thrusting.

“Inside, please inside.” Swan mumbles before she can even think. Unable to hold on any longer, you drive your cock inside Swan, unleashing waves of cum inside her pussy. You paint her walls and fill her womb. Swan cums; the feeling of your hot cum pouring inside her was too much to handle. Out of breath, the two of you remain still; you look up and meet Swan’s gaze. You lean in and kiss her. Swan accepts it, her grip loosening until you pull away. You move in and kiss her neck as your hands squeeze her thighs. She didn’t want this feeling to end. “Don’t pull out.”

“I didn’t plan on it,” you respond. You revel in the pleasure Swan’s body is giving you; her cunt squeezes down on your cock, trying to milk you for more. You kiss Swan’s neck, marking her body with hickeys. “You’re not going to that party tonight.”

“I don’t want to go anymore. I want my big brother to keep fucking me,” Swan says, her voice filled with lust. You smile at her and give her a kiss. She smiles back,  “From now on, you’re the only one I want to have sex with.” You pull out slowly and push back in at the same pace. Swan moans with a smile as she feels your cock moving inside her again.

“I’ll make sure of that,” you tell her before you begin your second round of lovemaking. You and Swan continue into the night. Eventually, you stripped her of her bunny outfit and left marks all over her body. You don’t know how many times the two of you came; all you do know is that each and every time you came inside your stepsister. You slept together afterward, Swan lying on your chest with your cock still inside her.

When morning came, you both understood you had to keep this hidden from your parents. While they were gone, you enjoyed being together to its maximum. Your attraction to each other only increased as time went on. It was difficult to keep your hands off Swan, and she couldn’t resist either, giving herself to you anytime you got close to her. It was no surprise that within a month, Swan was pregnant with your child. The amount of time you and Swan snuck off to fuck, it would’ve been a miracle if she wasn’t. She was happy, though, gladly carrying your child. While your parents might’ve been mad, more so when she claimed not to know who the father was, they weren’t going to abandon her. Considering the apartment you were staying at during the semester was close to the hospital, you offered to have Swan stay with you. They quickly accepted your offer, and it gave you the chance to spend more time with her. You were going to be one big happy family with Swan, and that began with a great sex life. The two of you continued your trysts while she was pregnant; you even proposed to her after one of your explosive nights. More than a stepsister, Swan was going to be your wife.

Epilogue

[sobbingscripter]

DAY 10: Ten Lords a-Leaping

☃️Deep Strokes and Christmas Sweaters☃️

Tags: [mlw][mdni][missionary][nipple sucking][creaming][anal mentions]

❄️☃️❄️

"Your Christmas could be worse than just getting cheated on." You hum, taking a bite of your cookie as you snuggle up against Dick's side, your cheek resting against his bicep and you watch as he deletes Kori's pictures from his phone. Absentmindedly.

"Oh yeah?" Dick frowns as he tears his gaze away from his screen, looking down at you, "how could it possibly be worse?"

"It could've been with Bruce."

Dick stares at you, blue eyes narrowing and reflecting the crackling flame, and he runs his tongue along his pearly teeth, gaze turning towards the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling of the entertainment room.

"That's... Oddly better." He mumbles under his breath before resting back against the sofa cushions, both of you planted on the soft and luxurious carpet. Matching sweatpants and ugly Christmas sweaters, you're both absentmindedly scrolling, enjoying the comfortable silence that's only filled by the crackling fireplace and the occasional breeze that causes the ornaments to rustle against the pine leaves.

"Exactly." You hum. "And besides, I told you, never trust a girl named after a spice."

Dick lets out a laugh. Boyish and charming, dimples deepening in his tanned cheeks, and you take the time when his eyes are closed to really... Look at him.

Sculpted face, boyish features and adorable curtain bangs that frame his face so nicely. Striking blue eyes, framed by dark lashes, below thick and stupidly luxurious eyebrows.

Romani features galore.

"You're really pretty, Dick."

Your voice is soft, a quiet whisper that causes his laughter to die down, eyes fluttering open and staring at you widely, and you watch as his flesh flushes with an embarassed blush.

But then, a cocky smile dons his face, that Wayne charm seeming to leak from his ears and his lips part, but you cut him off.

"Too bad you're fucking stupid."

You humble him easily, and Dick stares at you. Before sucking his teeth.

"I should punch you in the throat for that." Dick scowls at you, jaw clenching and the muscle of his jaw twitches in annoyance. He discards his phone, tossing it onto the vacant sofa and all of his attention is on you. As he stares down at you, blue eyes locked on your face.

And your head tilts.

"Like you'd do anything to hurt this..." You move your hair out of the way, "this elegant, swan-like neck."

Your thighs are around his waist, your back pressed against the leather of the sofa seats, still on the carpet as Dick presses soft, lingering kisses to the curve of your neck, warm hands grasping at the fat of your hips as he sucks marks into the sensitive skin of your neck.

"Shit..." Dick breathes out, dark lashes fluttering and his tongue drags along the curve of your jugular, and he presses the ball of his nose against your pulse. Feeling the faint thump against his nose, the scent of you filling his senses while your soft sounds fill his ears.

You're all that he's thinking about.

With your pretty doe eyes, your pretty, rosy lips and those flushed cheeks, and Dick can't even refuse when you whine against his lips, a small hand wrapping around his wrist and guiding his skilled fingers to the waistband of your sweatpants.

"Oh, you want my fingers, baby?" He coos quietly, carefully undoing your drawstring or at least, attempting to before he frowns and leans back on his haunches.

"What the actual fuck? Were you in the Navy?" He grumbles, using both hands this time to undo the stupidly tight knot of your sweatpants before stuffing his hand back into your pants.

And Dick traces your folds through your panties, "Ooh, so perfect and pretty."

"Fuck, you're so tight..." Dick's voice cracks, his hands gripping your hips and keeping you from moving, your back against the sofa and his hips roll against yours. A slow drag of his cock against your gummy walls, dragging against that soft, gooey spot that makes your lashes flutter.

Nails dig into his strong, muscular biceps, leaving scratches along his arms as muscular thighs rest on the outer part of your hips. Your thighs tossed over thick femurs, and your head tips back, lashes fluttering and Dick leans forward, pressing a kiss against the curve of your jaw.

"...you're so sexy..." Dick whispers. "With your perfect body, and your stupid, stupid brain. And your horrible jokes."

And his thumbs drag over the sensitive skin of your hips, a shaky breath falling from your kiss swollen lips and Dick presses another kiss to your lips, swallowing the sweet cacophony of your moans and mewls. And he grips your hips, pulling you closer and watching the way your eyes roll back in your head, his tip pressing a sloppy, wet kiss against the plug of your cervix.

Before he pulls back a bit, and then, slowly fucking back into you.

No condom.

No rubber.

No layer between the two of you, feeling his skin against yours is euphoric and your nails drag against the muscles of his back. That tight T-shirt looks so good on him, his tight white T-shirt straining against his muscles and his sweater, resting underneath your tailbone to prevent a friction burn from the carpet.

Dick raises your sweater, exposing your tits to his gaze. Soft, squishy mounds that fit perfectly in his hands, and he brushes his thumbs over your nipples, watching them pebble beneath his gaze and touch. And Dick groans, his dark brows furrowing into a frown and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

His hands rest on the underside of your breasts, pushing them higher and he dips his head, lips finding purchase on your nipples and his eyes flutter shut.

The stimulation is too much.

Deep strokes, your nipples being overstimulated and licked desperately, and the slow, intensity that comes with each of his strokes, his tip dragging against your gooey G-spot.

"..fuck... 'm gonna cum.."

Your lashes flutter and your lips form a soft 'o', pouty lips full and your chest heaving, deep breaths and your legs clamp around him tightly as he feels your walls flutter. Erratic pulses as your cunt oozes around him, a creamy ring forming at his base as he keeps fucking you through your orgasm.

Split open on his cock, your nails scratching at his scalp as he continues to suck and drag his tongue in the valley between your breasts before he pulls out of you, and he carefully guides you on your hands and knees.

His forearms rest on the sofa, his body covering yours as he presses soft kisses along the curve of your spine before you feel his wet, slick cock resting in the cleft of your ass.

Before he notches his flushed crown at that tight, furled entrance and your eyes widen, a short gasp slipping past his lips.

"I've had dreams about fucking you like this." Dick whispers, his hands resting on the plump globes of your ass.

"Your body's perfect for anal."

[kiwicopia]

MDNI | Themetober: Wings

Swan!Sunday x Wildlife Rescuer!GN!Reader

CW: mentions of being a pet/caged, slight dubcon, clipped wings, mentions of an injury, stubborn!Sunday, mentions of mating/courting rituals, spooning position, cock warming at the end, creampie.

tags: @sweetchildcloud

Themetober Masterlist

Being a wildlife rescuer, you had encountered a plethora of sick, injured, and even orphaned animals. However, one specific rescue yielded some rather strange outcomes What seemed like a regular swan, presumed to be a captive pet due to his clipped wings, had, in truth, turned out to be much more than that.

The pretty and injured swan you had rescued ended up being a hybrid with clipped wings, and a stubborn one at that. How someone could keep a beautiful creature like him as a pet was baffling. However, despite all of his hissing and grumpiness towards you, Sunday eventually grew closer with you as his caregiver—attached in a way only a swan would ever be with someone. 

Honestly, you should have taken the signs a bit more seriously back then. The constant ruffling of his feathers whenever you were in his presence, the need to always be around you, the subtle attempts at grooming you with a brush and pampering you—all signs of courting. It wasn’t until he took drastic measures one morning, making you finally realize that he truly desired you. 

Sunday held you against him, his face pressed against the back of your neck as he slowly inhaled your scent. He had slipped into your bed that morning with only one intention: finally making you his mate for life. It was such a sacred thing amongst swans, and the thought of enacting it sent a shiver down his body. 

The feeling of being held roused you from your slumber, and his arms tightened around you when you tried to squirm out of his hold. “Don’t move,” he whispered. He moved his hips against yours, pressing his hardened length against your ass, letting you feel him entirely. “I’ve waited too long for this, but I had to be certain of my choice.” Again, he rubbed his cock against you, smearing small globs of precum along your flesh. “After all, swans mate for life.” 

Your body tensed when he moved an arm and lifted your leg just enough for him to squeeze inside of you. The hybrid let out a shaky breath before pressing a tender kiss to the back of your neck. “Sunday,” you groaned softly, followed by a slight whining sound as he buried himself fully. His hand let go of your leg before moving to rest at your hip, and he slid his other arm down to tighten around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

His hips pulled back before moving forward, thrusting into you at a slow and repeated pace. “You feel so good,” he mumbled. His lips continued peppering the back of your neck in featherlight kisses before trailing them up to the space behind your ear, where he began to suck lightly on the skin. His thrusts increased slightly, and you let out a moan when his tongue slid over the teased flesh below your ear. “You were made for me.” 

Your body moved in tandem with his, rocking back and forth on the bed at a steady tempo, yet it soon increased when you moaned once more. Sunday’s hand gripped your hip a little tighter, his fingers digging into the skin as he switched his pace up. He pistoned into you a little faster now, his hips smacking against the back of yours as he huffed in your ear. 

As much as he desired to enjoy the moment and make it last, his instincts to mate you were overtaking him. The hybrid’s feathers tickled your cheek the faster he fucked into you with need, and your delicious sounds only served to spur him further. A strained hiss slipped out between clenched teeth as he slammed into you one final time, letting his cock twitch once more before spilling inside you. 

Sunday hummed softly, satisfied at the deed being complete. His hips moved against you once more, slower now, as his fingers traced gentle patterns against your hip. “There we go,” he whispered. His face nuzzled the back of your neck before kissing it softly once more. “So nice and full now.” 

His movements continued, growing lazier by the minute until he finally ceased altogether. The swan kept his cock inside of you, keeping his cum in your hole, not wanting a single drop to slip out. It was his way of marking you, claiming you as a lifelong partner. It was something he had longed to have for years, and he wasn’t the type to squander his chances and let them slip away. Not with you. 

Not with his precious, little desire. 

[heesimp]

hiii can I be 🦢 anon!

I was thinking maybe reader sexing prof heeseung

swan is saved for you! enjoy this drabble xxx

-

“Aren’t your students coming soon?”

“I hope so.” Heeseung smiles down at you wickedly but it doesn’t stop you from looking up at him from where you sit on his desk in the empty classroom. It’s a free period for him and he’s called you in under the guise of revising a paper, but you know better than to believe that. You smack his chest at his innuendo.

Everybody knows who Heeseung is: a great professor who is as passionate about teaching as he is when it comes to literature. He started as a TA at this university before obtaining his PhD in literary studies and passes on his love for knowledge to his students.

You sit in the third row just shy from the center in your pretty dresses that are modest enough to wear to class but stylish too. Unlike the rest of your classmates, you aren’t afraid to answer Heeseung’s questions and raise your hand to give you input either. He likes that about you and it’s what made you his favorite student.

Heeseung loves ambition in people because he sees it in himself. He loves it when his students have that drive to them and loves reading papers and grading test scores from his brightest pupils. It makes him so proud.

You fit in his life somehow in ways he hadn’t imagined. You, with your supple skin and bright mind enticed Heeseung the first time you took advantage of his office hours. You’d been the first student to visit him and talk about the course material, and it didn’t help that you were wearing a short skirt on a hot day with your thighs sticking to the leather seat below you. He went home that night and touched himself to the thought of gripping your thighs as he fucked you in his office.

The first time the two of you were alone at a late hour on campus was by accident. You couldn’t make it to his office hours and asked to schedule for a time after classes were over and spent an hour discussing the lesson plan and your favorite authors. The second time was by accident too, as he had run into you at the library during the evening and offered to walk you to your car since it was so late at night.

The third time was by accident as well, except neither of you cared that clothes weren’t involved. Now, he conceals kisses with you in between your classes and his, and keeps his doors locked when you come in to have lunch with him.

“I have thirty minutes before my next class starts and you, baby, have an hour before your exam. Shouldn’t you be studying?”

“Stayed up all night just so I could do this with you now,” you say, pulling Heeseung closer to you by pushing your legs around him. He holds your waist and you position your crotch right against his. He’s hard already. “Besides, I perform better after I cum.”

“Mm, is that right?”

“Yes, professor. Haven’t you ever wondered why I test well with your cum sitting inside of me?”

“So dirty for me.” Heeseung dips down to press his lips right on top of yours like he’s been dying for a taste all morning. “Makes me wanna fuck you real hard.”

“You have thirty minutes.”

Your sultry voice lures him right in. He doesn’t have enough time for foreplay and fears that someone might need him before he’s set to begin teaching so he pulls his cock out of his pants before shoving them down until they reach his ankles. You did him a favor by wearing a dress today and when he pushes a hand underneath to push your panties to the side, he groans when he realizes you aren’t wearing any.

Heeseung pushes the tip inside of your wet hole and looks you in the eye. “You’re trouble.”

“You like that though, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he says, pushing himself further inside of you until you’re arching your chest into him, “I really do. My naughty girl.”

His hips thrust in and out of you at a nice pace. You feel him within your walls and push yourself off of the table with the palm of your hands to angle yourself towards him better with his wet dick sloshing around you. It seeps down onto his balls and Heeseung puts his own hands on the desk beside you in order to kiss you.

“Did you complete your online assignment?”

“Really, Hee? You’re asking me that now?”

Heeseung smirks and pushes himself in and out of you faster until you’re yelping against his lips. “Yeah, I am. Don’t want my best student to fall behind just because she’s drunk over some cock. Did you finish it, Y/N?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Do you think you did a good job?”

“I did!” you whine against him as Heeseung kisses your neck. “I double checked my references!”

“Perfect student with a perfect pussy.” He pulls back far enough to see his cock disappearing inside of you. “Wooooow. Would you look at that?”

“Wish you would come fuck me in my dorm,” you whine. “I hate fucking in your office.”

“You like my bed though, don’t you? My bed is much bigger than the pathetic twin the university gives you.”

“Yeah, but think about it. It’s really hot when you know we shouldn’t be fucking there.”

He shakes his head and kisses your lips to silence you. “Can’t risk getting seen by other students, baby. Fucking in my office is risky enough.”

“Then you should make me cum so we don’t get caught.”

Heeseung heeds your warning and uses the strength in his legs to push you onto the desk until your legs are in the air. His hands come to your calves to keep your legs apart just how he likes you to be, watching your silk-like pussy folds envelope him like you’re a siren waiting to ruin him.

You come when he comes. That feeling of sudden warmth in your hole makes you go insane every time he does it. Heeseung pulls out enough to watch as the rest of his cum drips onto your folds until he’s soft enough to clean the two of you up. He wipes you down with a spare tissue before he leans down to lick one strip up your pussy and kissing your clit before closing your legs for you.

“Same time tomorrow?” You bat your eyelashes at him and he laughs.

“I have a faculty meeting, unfortunately…Why don’t you spend the weekend with me?”

“Oh? And do what professor?”

“I think you know what.”

He wills himself not to get hard again.

[rubiehart]

jj is the type to beg you for head, just on his knees absolutely pleading for you to suck his dick

xoxo- 🦢

oh my goshhh.. can i expand by saying this is him when he takes E at a kegger and he’s just uncontrollable.. swan nonnie ily

you and john b had to practically drag jj back to the chateau, he’d taken something he clearly couldn’t handle and he was uncontrollable to say the least, random bursts of energy as john b wrestled him through the door, ignoring his protests to stop being a ‘party pooper’, the door rattling in its frame as jj knocked in with his shoulder, erupting into another fit of uncontrollable laughter as you and john b shared an irritated look. “get inside bro, you have got to sober up.”

you’d managed to pin him to the bed of the guest room, john b excusing himself when he saw jj was getting antsy, he’d had enough and decided you could handle him on your own. “john b get back here now.” you’d mutter sternly, as he just shrugged with a smirk, shutting the door to the bedroom and you heard the soft click of his bedroom door across the hall locking, letting out a defeated huff as jj cracks up at nothing in particular.

“what the fuck did you take?” you say, rubbing at your forehead frustratedly as jj places his hands behind his head, blinking rapidly at the ceiling and sighing. “tell your boobs to stop staring at my eyes.” you look down at him in shock as he laughs. “oh my god..” you sigh, getting off of him, releasing he’s literally hard as a rock underneath you as he groans out.

“please do somethin’..” he pleas, reaching out for you as you sigh. “i’ve never been this fuckin’ hard in my life.. i dunno what i took but i cant do this shit..when you’re standin’ there lookin’ like that-” he rambles.

“you’re gonna shut up if i do?” you ask with a sigh and his eyes widen, wondering if you were being serious. “are you kiddin’, or…?” he questions, smirking a little. you shake your head, crawling up to him on the bed and working on his zipper, you hear him breathing heavily and look up at him with a cocked brow. “what? you never had a blowie before?” you ask with a chuckle, working his cargo shorts down his thighs.

“not from a smoke show like you.” he smirks, pulling his waistband down to release his cock and your breath catches in your throat. he was a fucking monster, rock hard and practically pulsing with the intensity, pretty pink tip leaking precum down his shaft, you look up at his face again to catch him tonguing at a fresh cut on his lip, clearly enjoying himself, a little too confident, you thought.

“you’re such a dick.” you mumble, working his shaft with two hands as he throws his head back against the stack of pillows. “hm?” he half moans out through clenched teeth. “please.. put it in your mouth.” he groans out and you feel yourself clench, your panties getting wetter by the second. “needy boy.” you joke, swirling your tongue around his tip. the small touch is like fireworks in his nervous system as he moans like a little bitch at the little kitten licks you were giving him. this was gonna be fun.

[sweet-s0rr0w]

in the greek tradition

a little something silly for @peachydreamxx, after our chat about statues in British stately homes! with art by the lovely @faiell!😘

***

“Malfoy! Oi, Malfoy!”

Weasley’s shout is unexpected and yet somehow typically obnoxious, shattering the end-of-summer stillness as effectively as a Bludger through a window. Draco closes his novel carefully around a finger, optimistically keeping the page. “What is it?” he hisses – via Patronus, of course, since he refuses to screech back across the Manor’s gardens like an oik.

Of course, Weasley doesn’t get the hint. “Malfoy!” he bellows again, from somewhere behind the box hedge, sounding ominously full of mirth. “C’mere a moment, would you?”

Playing to an imaginary audience, Draco rolls his eyes heavenwards, testing the weight of his book in his hand and briefly considering the merits of telling Weasley to fuck off. Of course, in the end his curiosity gets the better of him, and so with a beleaguered sigh he gets to his feet and follows the sound of laughter all the way down to the herbaceous garden, where Potter and Weasley are loitering incongruously, their Auror uniforms a garish blood-red amongst the muted pastels of the foxgloves.

“Course your Patronus is a bloody great swan,” says Weasley, stating the obvious as usual, yet grinning away like he’s told the world’s funniest joke.

Beside him, Potter looks a bit sheepish. “Alright, Malfoy?” he asks, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

“What’s going on?” asks Draco, determinedly ignoring their antics.

“Right, yeah,” says Weasley, tugging his hand out of his pocket to gesture roughly past the alliums. “What we were wondering was – who’s this guy?”

Draco follows his gaze – and – ah. Weasley’s talking about the sculpture, then. The very striking, very buff, very naked marble sculpture, which towers over the garden with his wand caught dramatically mid-flourish, his head thrown back, and his eyes closed in some kind of ecstasy. Draco probably should have realised sooner, what with all the time he’d spent alone in the herbaceous garden as a sexually frustrated teen.

“What?” he asks, having now forgotten the question entirely.

“Because, right, I reckon it’s some ancient hero. Like Merlin, or something–”

“Really, Weasley? You think that’s what Merlin looked like?”

“–but Harry says it must be a Malfoy.”

Draco blinks.

 “The hair,” Potter says, quickly. “It’s the same as – you know, you’ve all got all that, like, loose, flowy, glossy… you know. Also,” he adds, “no offense, but having a sculpture of yourself in your own garden seems like kind of a Malfoy thing to do.”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “Plus you’re all dramatic as fuck. So who’s right?”

Draco considered the statue for a moment: even moss-stained and weather-worn, it did have excellent hair. Also, pleasingly muscular thighs. “Potter’s right,” he’s forced to admit – at this moment, his second least favourite phrase. “This is a young Xanthus Malfoy the second. An excellent hunter, by all accounts, and one of the last Malfoys to sit in the… what?” he demands, interrupting Weasley, who’s giving Potter what can only be described as a meaningful look. “What’s going on? Why are you both giggling?”

Weasley says nothing. His ears are turning pink: Draco hopes he’s getting sunburnt.

“Well,” begins Potter, nodding vaguely back towards the statue. “We were just saying that he’s… well. That he’s – that it’s a little–”

“You got that right,” Weasley mutters.

“What?”

Potter presses his lips together, avoiding Draco’s gaze. “Well,” he says, delicately. “The thing is. While I’m sure he was an excellent hunter, this particular Malfoy seems to be, well. Lacking something. Deficient, you might say. In one certain – area.”

“His cock, Malfoy,” Weasley adds, helpfully. “His cock’s miniscule, and while we’re at it, his bollocks aren’t much to write home about either. The whole package’s rather… unfortunate, I’d say. What’s going on? Are micropenises a family trait, or did they just run out of stone?”

“Marble,” Draco says, faintly. “It’s marble. And by the way, you two are children.”

“Come on, Malfoy,” says Potter, grinning. “You can’t pretend you hadn’t noticed.”

“It’s deliberate, you philistine! It’s sculpted in the fucking Greek tradition!”

“Right.”

“And while we’re at it, it’s symbolic! The… diminutive penis represents mastery over one’s baser instincts. The triumph of intellectualism over… animalistic urges.”

Weasley frowns. “What you on about now?”

“I think, Ron,” Potter says, “that what Malfoy’s suggesting is that the bigger the dick, the stupider the man. Explains a lot, you know.” He smirks, eyeing Weasley in a manner that makes Draco’s brain feel like it may be the wrong size for his skull.

“Oi,” Weasley laughs, reaching out gleefully to whack Potter, who dodges sideways, then turns his ankle on the edge of a flowerbed and falls neatly into a lavender bush.

“It half makes sense,” Weasley says, offering Potter a hand to tug himself up. “The tiny prick thing. I mean, Malfoy certainly thinks he’s clever.”

“He does,” Potter chokes out, clearly on the verge of hysteria. Draco throws up his arms in frustration.

“For Merlin’s sake, Weasley!” he cries, as Potter wobbles dangerously close to the ornamental fountain. “Just because the statue’s got a–”

“It’s alright, Malfoy,” Weasley cuts in, soothingly. “I’ve heard some people are into that kind of thing. Tiny dicks, I mean.” He turns back to Potter, voice strained. “Not that I’ve met any, obviously.”

“I don’t have a tiny dick!” Draco cries, outraged. “I’ll prove it! I’ll show you both! I’ll show you both right fucking now–”

It’s unfair, and unconscionable, and somehow Draco’s hand is down his pants before he can even help himself, and that’s when Weasley finally stops laughing. “Alright, alright!” he exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “Keep your fancy knickers on, Malfoy. We believe you. Right, Harry?”

Potter’s not laughing either, now, and he doesn’t reply; he’s too busy staring, as, jaw set, and mustering all the dignity he can manage, Draco releases his grip on his (perfectly decent sized) penis, and slides his hand carefully out from beneath his waistband. He glares at them both, tugging his robe tightly shut.

“Right?” Weasley repeats, louder this time. “We don’t need to see proof, eh, Harry?”

Potter’s eyes are still fixed on a point somewhere below Draco’s navel, and his cheeks are now stained a most fetching pink. The sun is rather strong today, Draco thinks, feeling his own face heating.

“Harry?”

***

tons of thanks to @tackytigerfic for looking it over 😘

[spirit-lanterns]

CW: Size difference, oral, gagging

Thinking about the HSR ladies with straps/cocks that are simply too big for your poor little mouth. Why does it have to be so thick and long, your cute lips barely engulfing over the tip as they inch their way down your tight little throat, slobbering over it and gagging when you weren’t even halfway down.

Poor, poor you. They can’t stop themselves from teasing you at the way you look so pathetic on your knees, chin a mess from all the drool while you grab the base with your hands in hopes of pleasing them that way. “Sorry…” you pant as you slide your mouth off their length, catching your breath while your girlfriend wipes the saliva off your lips, “Can’t take ‘nymore…”

“That’s okay, just use your tongue.” And they don’t even give you a chance to catch your breath properly as they push down on your head so you could put that tongue of yours to good use. It may be as small as the rest of your mouth, but the cute kitten licks you give to the underside of their length is enough to have them groaning and bucking.

Feixiao, Kafka, Jade, Herta, Black Swan, Constance, Aglaea

[kiryoutann]

𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍’𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃, 𝐖𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑˚ ༘ [SIMON “GHOST” RILEY X FEM! READER]

MINORS do NOT interact.

Warning(s): DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. self-deprecating thoughts, reader is very unhinged, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, SELF-HARM, bad coping mechanism, MENTAL HEALTH PROBLEMS, mental breakdown, ANGST, SMUT, loss of virginity, injuries, mentions of blood, alcohol consumption, situationship, jealousy, stalking, attempted baby trapping, MANIPULATION, OBSESSION, really bad daddy issues, unprotected sex, reader is a love and touch-starved naive virgin, reader is very unhinged, ghost is a bit of an asshole, use of (Y/N), CHILD-NEGLECT, family issues, mother-daughter issues, heavily inspired by the "Black Swan" (2010), BIASED OMNISCIENT NARRATOR, things about ballet that are (probably) inaccurate, hints of past physical abuse (not from Simon), attempts of physical abuse (also not from Simon), SUICIDE ATTEMPT, title inspired by A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini.

For each chapter of the work that I will post, I will not add any warnings except trigger warnings. So if you are not old enough, THIS IS A FINAL WARNING NOT TO CONTINUE READING MY STORIES.

Genre: romance, ANGST, slow-burn. ballerina! reader.

Blurb:

“No more tears f’me, ye ‘ear?” He meets your eyes before lowering it to the tantalizing view of your glistening body, causing another twitch of his impatient cock. “I ain’t worth it.” The tip of his cock brushes against your folds when he thrusts his hips once more. A small mewl escapes your moist lips, vertebrae drawn like a curve of a bow as his length slowly enters your hole. “No—no, don’t say that. You’re—mmh!” You stumble over your words, voice shaking both from emotion and physical overwhelm. “You’re always worth it, Simon.” Sweet thing, unaware of the effect her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheek have on a man as corrupt as him. Struggling to find words while he fills her up, trying to convince him that he's worth something.

"A man's heart is truly a wretched, wretched thing," as your mother once said. And yet, you, a soulless ballerina, happen to cross paths with a mysterious man under the rainy sky of London. A meeting that binds you to a self-destructive dance in the hope that he loves you as much as you love him.

However, Simon Riley is still Simon Riley; and his rotten heart left no room for someone like you.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14* | 15 | 16 | 17 | Epilogue

Chapters marked with * contain heavily triggering content. Please pay special attention to the warnings provided before reading.

AO3 | talk | HEADCANONS

[imyourbratzdoll]

Just read your Charlie Swan fic💕💕 it was great. Can I request smut with Charlie swan where reader was riding him in public in the police car and a fellow police officer catches them. After that the whole station talks about it and Charlie and reader are being called freaky😭😭 female reader please. Thanks alot 💕💕

hello honey! thank you and I'm so sorry for taking so long! I hope you like it.

summary - you and the chief get freaky in his car.

warning - smut, public sex, cream pie, swearing.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You tug on Charlie’s hair as you ride him, bouncing up and down. Your moans fill the small space, causing Charlie’s cock to throb and his head to fall back into the headrest. His hands grip your hips, thrusting up into you as his breath hits your neck. “F–fuck, sweetheart. You feel so amazing.” You whine, and your head falls back, exposing your neck. “Keep going, sweetheart. You’re doing so well for me!” Charlie places kisses on your sweet spot, sucking the flesh on your neck into his mouth softly. 

“O–oh, Charlie!” Your fingers dig into his shoulders, feeling your walls tense around his thick member, your eyes roll back as pleasant shivers spread through your body. You can feel your orgasm approaching, it’s so close to snapping. “I’m going to cum!” 

Just as you are about to finish, there’s a knock at the window. “Hey, Chief! These windows aren’t tinted!” You both turn your head, Charlie covering any part of you that is exposed, holding back a groan as your walls pulsate around him rapidly. “But good job!” The officer chuckles, shaking his head and walking back into the station. 

Charlie looks at you. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” You smile, wiggling your hips slightly. 

“Don’t worry about it, are you going to make me cum, Chief?” You smile sweetly, batting your lashes. A gasp escapes you as he holds you against him and begins to pound into you. Your orgasm builds back up and you cum around Charlie’s cock. “F–fuck…” You tuck your face into his neck, moaning softly as he continues to fuck into you until he finishes inside of you. 

Charlie moves your head back, cupping your cheek while stroking your hair back. “You are beautiful, I just want you to know that.” He whispers, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on your lips. “Are you ready to go back in? There’s no doubt that he’s told everybody.” Charlie rolls his eyes, smiling when you giggle. 

You nod, fixing your clothes and leaning over to grab your perfume out of your bag to spray yourself with. When you place it back into your bag, you grab your lip balm and swipe it across your lips while staring Charlie in the eyes. He watches with adoration before he opens the door and helps you out, ensuring you don’t hit your head or fall. 

Charlie holds your hand as the two of you walk into the station. Everyone’s head turns and cheers begin to fill the room. “Chief! Chief! Chief!” Their fists punch the air as they surround you. “We didn’t know our boss and his girl would be so freaky!” One of them shout, sending a wink your way. 

Charlie shakes his head, his cheeks turn pink, and he pulls you closer to him. “Alright, alright. You’ve all had your fun, now get back to work.” 

You giggle and bury your face into his chest, feeling your cheeks heat from all the attention. As everyone scatters and gets back to work, you remove yourself from his chest and look up. “I guess we are freaky, Chief. Wanna get freaky in your office?” He smirks and nods, pulling you toward his office and ignoring his employees.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[gogogodzilla]

day 4, cock warming

charlie swan x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, slight dirty talk, unprotected sex, slight almost getting caught, brief handjob, domestic charlie swan kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3

Sundays meant game day. They also meant Bella would be out of the house hanging out with Edward or one of the other Cullens. This also meant that you and Charlie got some much-needed alone time. The sun was setting, the last of the sun’s rays dipping behind the horizon. 

You padded into the dimly lit living room, cold beer in hand. The soft glow of the TV allowed you to make out your path. Charlie’s team had begun to lose horribly, and his eyes were beginning to glaze over. 

You set the beer on its designated coaster and approached his position sprawled out on the couch. Wordless you crawled on top of him, taking him by surprise. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat

“Hey there,” he said, affection and curiosity evident in his tone. 

“Hey,” you replied softly, wrapping your arms around him. 

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Your sleep shirt left little to the imagination, and the bare skin was tantalizing. His hands drifted downward, and you forced yourself to focus on the game. 

You dragged yourself upward, making sure to grind against the imprint of his length. You disguised it as reaching for a blanket and covering the both of you. Charlie eyed you, the game completely forgotten, and you felt him twitch under you. 

His hands drifted under your sleep shirt and moved to cup your ass. Charlie sucked in a breath when he realized you weren’t wearing any underwear. 

“Whatcha up to, darlin’?”

You looked up at him innocently, “I’m just watching the game.” 

“Wanna explain where your underwear went?” 

You sat up to straddle him and grin. The blanket falls, splayed against Charlie’s thighs.  “Are you gonna search me, Chief Swan?” 

He dragged his fingertips along your bare thighs, eyes dancing across your features. “I think I might have to, miss,” he responded, donning the tone he used when he was working. 

Your smirk turned devilish as you slid your hand in between your bodies and palmed him. Charlie jutted his hips upward and met your movements. He leaned up to kiss you, his lips moving languidly against yours. 

His hands began to wander over the soft expanse of your back and eventually to your chest. He kneads your breasts and extends a thumb to glide across your nipple as you kiss him, eliciting a soft moan from the both of you. 

You pulled away and hooked a finger into the waistband of Charlie’s sweatpants and tugged, revealing what you’d been aching for all evening. You wrapped your hand around him and pumped it slowly, teasing him. He released a shaky breath as he bucked his hips. 

You lifted yourself up and swiped his cock through your folds, eliciting a gasp from the both of you. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him. His large hands grip your hips and helped you down, watching as your dripping core swallowed his cock. 

He hissed as he bottomed out. “So fucking tight, baby.” 

The sound of jingling keys into the lock of your front door caused you to jump, your pussy clenching around Charlie. 

You were quick to grab the edge of the blanket and cover the both of you. Your head nearly collided with Charlie’s chin in your hurry to lie down and act inconspicuously. The pounding of his heart reverberated against the shell of your ear as you rested your head on his chest. He twitched inside you, nervousness mixing with excitement. You’d never done anything this risky before. 

Bella’s footsteps neared, and you prayed she couldn’t see the scarlet dusting your cheeks. All you could focus on was just how deep Charlie was inside of you, and it was making your mind hazy. 

“Hey!” Charlie called, attempting to keep his tone even. “You’re home early.”

You lifted your head slightly to look at the teenager. 

“Yeah, we have a test tomorrow. Edward wanted me to have time to study,” she said nonchalantly. Charlie nodded, feigning approval. “Enjoy the game, guys,” Bella waved her goodbye and headed for her bedroom. 

Once you heard the familiar sound of her door clicking shut, you breathed out a sigh of relief. Charlie let out a soft groan. 

“That was close,” Charlie murmured, shifting his hips slightly. You nodded, your core still fluttering around him.

“Too close.” 

“How ‘bout we watch the game in our room?” 

You grinned before sliding off of him, biting your lip to prevent yourself from moaning. Your arousal was nearly dripping down your legs as you stood, and heat rushed to your cheeks at the sensation. 

Charlie quickly tucked himself back into his sweatpants before standing up from the couch, the imprint of his erection still very evident.

You held out a hand to him. “Don’t wanna miss too much of the game.” 

“No, we don’t,” he answered, lacing his fingers with yours and leading you to the bedroom.

[e-hibiscus]

Synopsis: Even more Honkai Star Rail ladies react to an s/o that likes playing with their hands and getting head pats.

Pairing: Acheron x reader, Black Swan x reader, Robin x reader

Warnings: None, SFW

Part I and Part II

Acheron

Asking her for Head-pats

She’s not one to initiate physical contact with you quite frankly, the idea doesn’t cross her mind at all. At first, Acheron stops you in your tracks, an iron grip around your wrist as she asks you what you’re doing. A simple “What are you doing?” escapes her lips before you explain you want her physical touch and affection.

Acheron is baffled you'd want her to give you them in the first place, but from then on Acheron lets you guide her hand onto your head. She gets the message rather quickly after a few times, and she finds it endearing that you’re comfortable enough to do this with her. A small smile grows on her lips from having you close. 

Playing with her hands

Her expression softens considerably when you first ask. A small “Of course” escapes her lips before taking your hand in hers. Although the sensations are light and fleeting, Acheron does her best to commit it into memory. She could barely feel how your fingers trace along her palm let alone when you kissed her knuckles as you pulled away. 

Whenever the two of you are holding hands Acheron’s grip is firm. If you try and slip your hand away, Acheron absentmindedly holds on tighter. You have to tell her when to let go, and in turn she hesitantly complies. Acheron treasures each and every intimate moment you share.

Black Swan

Asking her for Head-pats

Black Swan is by far the most amused by your antics, even if she had been caught off guard by your request. She’ll cock her head slightly to the side, watching with a smile as you ask in detail what you want. She’s going to make you spell it out the first few times because your flustered expression is just so sweet.

A small “Oh?” escapes her lips when you make this small request. A small smile etched onto her lips before Black Swan cards her hands through your bangs. She likes hearing you beg a little for her attention, but ultimately complies with your request. She’s surprisingly gentle 

Playing with her hands

Black Swan settles on your lap whether she’s shorter or taller than you, she’s taking a seat on you. Her warm gaze observes how your fingers dance along her palm. She loves the warmth which envelopes her hands as your hands intertwine with her’s. There’s a mixture of curiosity in her eyes while she watches you once you’ve taken her extended hand.

Her hands are slender and elegant but they’re cold to the touch, however, within her gaze lies a hint of warmth. Since you seem to take solace in such actions Black Swan lets you idly play with them whenever you're nervous and uneasy.

Robin

Her reaction to Head-pats

There’s an initial shyness that gives away her sincerity. She extends her hand and gives you the head-pat you so desire and Robin’s touch is light and affectionate. Perhaps it's her caring demeanor, but she adores it when she gets these sweet types of activities with you. It really makes her happy, you can tell because there’s a little flutter of her wings as she feels your soft hair. 

Over all, Robin doesn’t mind at all and is delighted that you’d even ask for her to do something close and intimate like this. She already loves having her hand brush through your hair (and you do too) so this closeness  is something Robin greatly appreciates. For the most part, Robin will keep such activities behind closed doors, this is meant to be something kept between the two of you after all. Perhaps you’ll do the same for her too?

Playing with her hands

When you asked to play with her hands, Robin’s face went flush because she finds your request to be rather intimate. Robin curiously watches how you trace your fingers on the soft surface of her palm. No words needed to be said between the two of you because the interaction alone holds a myriad of words. It’s a level of intimacy she’s not quite used to, but she values it nonetheless because there’s a level of affection and trust that comes with such an activity.

Sometimes Robin will hold soft conversations with you. Sharing her thoughts or talking about her day as well as future plans. Occasionally, she will lightly squeeze your hands or absentmindedly intertwine your fingers with hers because it's a way for her to show she’s there in the moment with her too.

[kafnixc]

Pairing : GP!Dom!Acheron x Sub!Fem!reader

Warnings! : Fingering, Overstimulation, Jealous sex, Crying, Mentions of blood(Biting), Creampie, Semi public sex

Author's note : I'am crazy for this woman, y'all don't understand the things I'd let this woman do to me

MEN & MINORS DNI

During your visit to penacony with your lover, whom hides her identity with the title Galaxy Ranger, Acheron you came across a memokeeper named Black Swan and you two got close real quick, well.. too close to Acheron's liking

"(Reader).. don't you think you're being too close with, that memokeeper? I don't trust her" Acheron spoke in a firm tone while wrapping an arm around your waist, resting her head on your shoulder "Black Swan? There's no need to get cautious around her love, she's a very sweet person" you replied with a smile, but you only received a scoffed from her

"You shouldn't trust people here in Penacony so easily, you don't know their actual intentions." She said before pulling you closer

Unfortunately, your romantic time was cut short when the memo keeper showed up "(Reader)! Come with me, is it fine if I show you something?" Black swan said with a small grin on her lips, offering her hand to you "O-Oh! Of course" you replied, breaking away from Acheron, but before you could even get away, she grabbed your arm stopping you from leaving "(Reader) is busy." Acheron said in a low tone, eyes narrowing at the sight of the Memokeeper.

"Is that so?" A giggle escapes from Black Swan, as she then sighed and waved her hand dismissively "A shame then.. I'll leave you two be, see you around, (Reader)"

"..You, we need to talk" Acheron firmly said, before dragging you away from the busy crowd of Penacony and to a dark alleyway

"Aeons! A-Acheron..!" A whine escapes your lips, as two.. no, three slim fingers roughly pumps in and out of your already soaked entrance, slick dripping down to the ground while you hold onto the Galaxy Ranger for dear life

"You seem to be getting too close with that memokeeper.. are you forgetting about me?" Her fingers hit that spongy spot inside you, causing your legs to buckle barely keeping yourself up as your third orgasm comes crashing down

"N-No m'sorry..! N-No more.. m'sorry.." You sobbed out, gripping onto her shoulders to support yourself from falling, as her fingers continuously pistons your insides in a rather.. rough pace.

"No more..? But your pussy is telling me the opposite thing." A chuckle escapes the Galaxy Ranger's lips, as her pace intensified curling her fingers on that spongy area, earning a cry from you while your walls grips on those slim fingers as your fourth orgasm crashes over you

After a few moments of haziness, you felt her fingers retreating from your soaked folds. You thought it was over, not until you heard a sound of a zipper.. Your eyes widened at the sight of the Galaxy Ranger's erection

"Wait wait.. w-we're still going?" You said in a nervous tone, which only made her grin mischievously "I never said we're done, did I?" Replied Acheron before lifting you up, you gasped and immediately wrapped your legs around her hips, gripping her shoulders for more support

"Let me remind you.. who you belong to" Without a warning, she slammed her whole length inside you, earning a scream from you but she quickly covered your mouth "Silence, there's people wandering around you know, might I remind you that we're not in a secluded area."

Oh.. that's right, you two weren't in a room, in fact.. you two were just outside, in an alleyway, where people can always look if there's something going on. But instead of feeling fear, that somehow turned you on even more but you couldn't bring yourself to admit such.

Her cock filled you up to the brim, and at the mere length of it caused tears to well up in your eyes, you can feel it stretching you up while her hips slammed into you repeatedly in an animalistical pace.

"A-Acheron— Acheron.." you cried her name out like a prayer, then a gasp escapes your lips as you felt her bite your neck, and gods it felt good.. her teeth sinks into your soft supple flesh, drawing a little blood which causes you to squirm

"Fuck.. (Reader) you feel so good.." a whimper escapes from the Galaxy Ranger's lips, gripping your hips as she pushes you further against the wall and gritting her teeth as her pace quickened.

Tears spilled from your eyes as you felt your fifth orgasm coming, you roll your eyes back and your walls clenched her cock earning a grunt from the Galaxy Ranger as your orgasm crashes down once more

After a few more thrusts, Acheron whimpered before painting your insides white, filling you up to the brim with hot cum. She held you close while thrusting slowly, trying to help you ride out your high

When you recover from your high, Acheron placed a kiss to your lips while wiping your tears away "Are you alright dove?.." You noticed the look of concern in her eyes, you smiled before nodding "I'm fine, don't worry.."

At the sound of your reassurance, Acheron's gaze softened, before leaning in as she whispers in your ear "Good.. I'll give you some time to recover, then we go again."

Your eyes widened at her words, a shiver running down your spine and you think to yourself.. this is gonna be a long night.