#Dirty Shorts

[lady-belz]

What's Mine is Mine: A Dirty Shorts Fic

Kim Taehyung x Female Reader

Prompt: When he throws you on the bed and pins your hands above your head before leaning close to whisper “You're all mine!”

Author Note: The minute I saw this pic this morning... I just knew...

You don't remember what had caused you to be where you are now. All you remembered was that you had signed up to be part of the bachelorette auction to raise money for some foundation that you were blanking on.

You do remember the man who had bid the most for you.

He had caught your attention the moment he entered the room, looking very dashing in the 3 piece suit and leopard print tie. His dirty blonde hair sat stylishly on his head and you had to check yourself to make sure you hadn't drooled. He was beyond handsome.

You don't even remember your best friend speaking to you, her voice muffled because of how intensely you were staring at the man.

“Who is that?” you had interrupted her monologue about her boyfriend being fired from another job (she really needed to dump the loser already, he couldn't keep a 9-5 even one day but she was “in love” and didn't want to hear anything else).

“Who?” she asked.

“The 3 piece with the blonde hair?” you pointed him out where he was chatting with the director of the foundation that you still couldn't remember the name of.

“Oh, him? I think he's a famous K-pop idol. Can't remember his name or what group.” she shrugged, moving away when someone called her name.

You couldn't look away from him, and when he finally noticed you were staring, he smirked. He knew you'd been watching him. You stood in place as he made his way toward you, pausing every now and again to talk to someone.

“Hello, beautiful.” Those two words. Those two words in a tone of voice so deep, you nearly swooned.

You don't recall any of the conversation you had with the man, other than his name and what band he was a part of.

You don't recall him bidding higher and higher on you during the auction. Your eyes were locked on his through the whole bidding process. You hadn't known he'd won until he came to the stage and held out his hand to you.

You gladly took it and he lead you from the room amidst loud applause.

The sexual tension was higher than the moon as he drove to his apartment, the silence a tangible thing between you.

The moment you were inside behind the locked door, he hauled you into his arms, kissing you passionately. Your fingers did what they'd been itching to do all night, sliding into his hair and tugging hard, making him groan in pleasure.

You shoved his jacket from his body, dimly hearing the material fall to the floor as you grabbed his tie to loosen it and some of the buttons of his shirt. His hands went to your ass, squeezing hard, making you moan in return. You pressed your hands against his chest, shoving him hard into the chair behind him.

He stared at you hungrily, licking his lips as his eyes traveled your body. You'd been wearing a simple and sleek back dress that clung to your curves like a second skin. You reached for the zipper and slowly pulled it down, letting the material pool at your ankles, standing in front of him in a strapless black bra and matching lace panties. His eyes darkened as he reached for you, pulling you into his lap and kissing you hard.

He drew away after a moment, a small stand of saliva visibly connected to your lips. You both were breathing heavily and he dived in to nibble, lick and bite your neck, your head falling back to give him more room to pleasure you.

His arms locked around your waist as he got to his feet and started toward his bedroom.

He dropped you to the middle of his bed and kept you there with a single look that made your insides quiver with a need so great, your thighs visibly wet with how much you wanted him.

He slowly removed the rest of his clothing, keeping the tie in his hand and he crawled his way toward you.

Before you could ask, he took the tie and wrapped it around your wrists before pinning them above your head.

Your heart threatened to beat its way from your chest as he leaned in to whisper into your ear, his breath making goosebumps break out along your skin.

“You're all mine.”

The moan you released into the air was downright obscene as he ripped the rest of your clothing from your body.

You forgot to tell your best friend you'd left for the night.

You'd message her in a couple of days...

~End~

[0rmtz]

Slight redesign

[hisbodycorpse]

ٝ ⠀⠀⠀ㅤ 𓉳̸⠀⠀ 𝓤𝗌𝖾𝗋𝑛͟𝑎͟𝑚͟𝑒͟𝑠͟ 𓏶⎯𝖲㎦.

𝖢𝗎𝗍𝖾-𝒄͙̦ͥ̍͟𝒓̂̾̾͑ͣͤ͟𝒆̋͊ͮ͟𝒑̋͊ͮ͟𝒑̂̾̾͑ͣͤ͟𝒚.

@dollyofthegunshot @dollymorgued

@thesiniternecro @ofcannibalsect

@enmaleficio @serdevidrio

@onthedaggershot @morguebounddoll

@necrosinisterveil @rottingdollcarnum

@maleficocurseborn @fallenangelicwings

@reborninplague @rebbornfromdread

@bladesoftheoccult @obscuradoll

@mournfulnephilim @hauntedveins

@dollsinlament @onthecursedveins

𝗦𝗞 ⠀.             𝄢

En caso de dar uso a estos arrobas,

—por favor- abstenerse a hacerlo

en cuentas inactivas/spam/ghost.

[bunnylocs]

Need someone to degrade me and tell me how useless, and pathetic I am. How I am only good to get old men off and to be use and played with till they are tired/bored of me. Please tell me how much you want to cum inside my v1rgin 😺

🫣🫣😵‍💫😵‍💫😔

[anythingneverythingnstuffs]

simon 'daddy kink' riley

the first time you called him 'daddy' during intimacy, it had been a total accident. your face had turned red as a tomato and your skin as hot as the sun as it dawned on you what you had called your massive and semi-new lover. you had never called anyone that before. you had no idea where it came from.

but Simon didn't seem to give a singular flying fuck as to the reason you called him 'daddy'. he was just glad you did.

immediately, he got with the program. he noticed your flush, but didn't draw attention to it.

"Ya like that, babygirl? You like daddy's big, bad, monster cock stretching your sweet little pussy open as you make those beautiful sounds for me?"

and he didn't slow down. he never slowed down, unless you specifically asked him to.

that had only happened once, because you really thought you were going to pass out from the physical exertion he took being intimate with you. it had only turned him on even more, but he had relented for you.

he'd really do anything for you.

masterlist

[felsicveins]

The boys ✨

[pastafossa]

"Poor thing." (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic) 🔥

So as promised, I'm taking part in the October Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! For Day One I had three prompts to choose from, and I wound up going for the kink prompt of somnophilia cause, well, I'd hinted at it in TRT as being something Matt liked, but never actually sat down and wrote anything out for it. You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me, but for now, please enjoy Day One! This is not specifically written as any fem!Reader in particular, although any readers of TRT can choose to see this as TRT's reader!

As a reminder, if you'd like notifications when I post something, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

You’d had a long week. He remembered you telling him that the night before. You wouldn’t mind if he woke you up—you never did—but odds were good you needed your rest far more than you needed him dragging you up out of the haze of sleep for a sloppy, indulgent midnight fuck. But then… he didn’t have to wake you up, did he? 

Wordcount: 3.3k words

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: consensual somnophilia (they talked about this being fine, don't worry), oral f-receiving, grinding, PiV sex, some dirty talk. 18 and up only please!

Oh and we're black suiting this cause fuck yeah.

Your arousal hit him the second he opened the rooftop door. 

The scent of it stopped him dead in his tracks, threads of heat winding through him as he drew in a long, slow inhale, savoring it. Another inhale, and he let out a low rumble of pleasure, his mouth already watering, cock stirring. 

Well, that was one way to be welcomed home.

Not that he was complaining. His night had gone well enough—the fights visceral and satisfying, with multiple people he’d ensured would make it home safely. But your skin against his, fucking his way lazily inside you while you moaned loudly into his ear, dragging your nails down his back, would only make a good night better. However, as he eagerly stepped through the door and closed it behind him, it quickly became clear that your body’s call to him wasn’t exactly intentional. 

He directed his senses down the stairs and into the bedroom, hunting through sensory information, through the fire of the world until he found you in bed. You were laying on your side and tucked under the blankets, one of your arms thrown over his pillow to hold it up against your chest. And despite the tempting scent of you in the air, you weren’t moving. Not really, anyway. At most, every now and then your fingers would twitch or curl, your heartbeat uneven and a little restless. 

Asleep. 

You were dreaming, then.

Maybe even dreaming of him. 

He slowly dragged his tongue over his lips, considering his options.

You’d had a long week. He remembered you telling him that the night before. You wouldn’t mind if he woke you up—you never did—but odds were good you needed your rest far more than you needed him dragging you up out of the haze of sleep for a sloppy, indulgent midnight fuck.

But then… he didn’t have to wake you up, did he? 

Just like that, he settled on a course of action.

He crept silently down the stairs, stripping out of his gloves and black mask as he went, tossing them aside without care for where they fell. The bottom step was carefully avoided, thanks to its tendency to creak and alert you to his presence. He stopped only long enough to kneel and quietly unlace his boots, tugging them and his socks off so that he could slip barefoot into the bedroom, weaving through the shadows, navigating around any floorboards that might give him away. He did it all without a sound, his senses so focused now he could hear the faint whisper of the dust motes in the air stirred by his passage, hear the tiniest shift of your skin against the sheets as you breathed, hear the blood flowing hot beneath your skin where you’d grown flushed and aroused. 

The scent of your arousal was even stronger here in the bedroom, more than enough to thicken the heat inside him, an instinctive little purr halted in his throat before it could stir the air with sound. His body knew just as well as he did what that scent meant, what always followed, and his nostrils flared as he got closer to you, taking in how your pheromones had mixed with his in bed. It stirred some possessive, lazy satisfaction in him to take in the way you’d curled up with his pillow, chasing his scent, and you were even wearing—

Oh. 

You were wearing his shirt. 

It was like you were begging for this, for him, for what he had planned. 

He crept up onto the bed on his hands and knees, each shift of the mattress followed by a pause, a confirmation from your heartbeat and breathing that you were still asleep. He had to be careful if he didn’t want to wake you. It wasn’t that you’d be angry, of course—you’d both agreed that this sort of thing was alright, though he’d had a far easier time making use of that agreement than you had thanks to his senses. No, this was about ensuring you still had a chance to rest. 

Though, if he were honest, the challenge of this was a thrill all its own. It was a delicate balancing act to give you the sensations you needed, allow himself access to your body, all without waking you. It was as if he were hunting you, gradually gaining ground from the shadows until at last he could take hold of his prize. Fortunately, this prize was one that would leave you both satisfied. 

The moment he found himself over your hips, he shifted to catch the blankets and slowly, ever so slowly began to edge them down. 

Gentle. 

Inch by inch, he bared your body to the air. You didn’t so much as stir, well and truly asleep, and presumably still caught up in your dream. Even so, he held his breath, listening closely to the beating of your heart and your shallow breathing. But he’d been careful enough, and besides, you were used to him climbing into bed in the middle of the night, shifting the blankets around as he crawled under them to join you. 

The scent of you that rose up as the blanket slid down was so much richer now that it wasn’t stifled and trapped by thick fabric. It made him shiver, his cock already so hard he could feel a damp spot growing on the silk of his boxers. He needed more of that scent, and to taste it, too, but the angle was all wrong with you on your side. So he gently traced one fingertip up the side of your thigh, applying the barest hint of pressure. You were normally fairly responsive to him even in sleep. 

“Roll over for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning down to brush his lips, light as a feather, against your hip. “You smell so good. I need a taste.”

He wasn’t sure if it was his touch or his voice that made it past whatever dream you were lost in, but either way, some part of you heard him. You breathed out a soft sigh, twitching a little until he helped you roll slowly onto your back beneath him. You made a soft sound that might have been his name, and he couldn’t resist letting out a reassuring little croon as he pressed your slack thighs outwards, gradually parting your legs. There wasn’t so much as a hint of resistance as your legs fell open, baring the wet heat of your pussy to him. 

God, your scent. 

He quickly backed up a few inches before dropping to his hands and his knees, lowering his head just over your hips to quietly inhale the scent of your cunt. The rich, musky tang of your arousal—all pheromones and slick warmth—left him half mad, his eyes rolling back. His hips instinctively snapped forward against nothing but air, his body curving as if he were already fucking his way into you. 

It only got worse, got better when he let his head fall further, hungry for just a taste. He slipped his tongue out until he could use the tip for the barest little lick at the line of your slit where your arousal had gathered, your body twitching as he did. Even that small taste hit him like a drug, and he swallowed down a ragged moan, his chest hitching as he kept the sound from reaching the air. He’d told himself he’d just have a taste, just one, but one quickly became two became three, hungry, quickening laps at your slit until he finally whined softly in want and dropped the rest of his body down, burying his face desperately against your cunt. 

Your hips twitched, rocking against him just slightly, and you let out the softest little whimper as he grunted and slurped quietly at your slit, wetness smearing across his chin and mouth. Only once he’d thoroughly tasted what you’d made for him did he slide up to your clit, tongue extended to lap at it with little kitten licks, ones designed to encourage your body to give him more of your slick wetness, your body jerking with every pass. He tried to remind himself to be gentle, to take things soft and slow so you didn’t wake, but that was so hard when you whimpered again, whimpered as he pursed his lips to suck lightly at your clit, drawing it into his mouth to work with his tongue. Your fingers curled and released against the sheets, and you tasted so good that he found himself fucking against the mattress, humping mindlessly at the folds in the blankets like an animal.  

“M… Matt.”

His eyes fluttered lazily open, his gaze drifting up around the sensory shape of you. You were all flowing air currents and sounds and scents, twisting tongues of flame fed by the growing heat of both your bodies. Your heartbeat was still too slow to signal you’d woken up, but your breathing had picked up, your eyes fluttering more rapidly behind your eyelids. 

If you hadn’t been dreaming of him before, you were now. And if you were still dreaming, he was safe. 

He rumbled a low noise of satisfaction, using his fingers to part your folds before dipping down to your entrance. Once there, he began to lick firmly at you, pressing deeper and deeper until at last your body opened to him and he slipped inside. You let out a sleep little mewl, one of your legs shifting restlessly in your sleep, your head rolling on your pillow as he moaned quietly, curling his tongue inside you to drag against the silken heat of your clenching walls, his nose grinding gently against your clit. 

Did you know, somewhere deep down, what he was doing? That he’d spread you open like this and worked his tongue inside you? Or did all your dream self know was that you suddenly felt so, so good?

The very idea that you might not know, that you’d left yourself so vulnerable to him, had him dangerously close to coming, his motions growing just a hint more frantic. Wetness smeared across his face as he kissed sloppily at your slit, kissed at it like he might your mouth, snaking his tongue out to slide inside you with every pass of his lips. 

He listened carefully to the quickening pace of your heart, your breathing, taking in the faint sheen of sweat forming on your skin. Every time your heartrate rose too high, he’d slow just a little, or shift his mouth over to your folds or the inside of your thighs. It was there he left you a mark or two, sucking gently at thin, delicate skin. Even if he managed to do this without waking you, you’d know tomorrow what he’d done when you saw the little love bites and bruises between your thighs. The very idea made him purr warmly against you, and he quickly worked his hand down beneath himself until he could undo his pants, pushing the fabric down until he could pull his hard cock free. He took a moment to grind slowly, deliciously against the sheets, presing his mouth to the skin of your thigh to muffle his hitched moan. And that reminded him of what he’d planned on from the start, before he’d become distracted by the taste of you.

He was close, and he needed you. Fortunately, based on the way your body had begun to tighten in increasing waves, you were close, too. 

He let his head roll to the side to rest against your thigh as he panted, still grinding himself against the sheets. “Do you want my cock, sweetheart?” he whispered, his lips curling up into a delicious little smirk when your body clenched at the sound of his voice. “I think you do. Even when you’re asleep, you need me inside you, don’t you?” 

There was no verbal response, but the growing heat of your skin was enough for him. He rocked himself up as gently as he could, stopping just long enough to strip the rest of his clothes off before climbing slowly up your body. As he went, he caught the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging it up your body with him. He couldn’t take it off you��even he wouldn’t be able to mange something like that—but he had no desire to. The idea of fucking you while you were sleep, while you were wearing his shirt, was a fantasy he’d used more than once while taking himself in hand. He did, however, tug your shirt up just enough to bare your breasts to him. 

Obscene, something inside him whispered in delight, a wave of throbbing heat flooding through him. Here you were asleep, shirt pushed up over your breasts, your naked cunt practically dripping onto the sheets. He balanced his weight on one arm as he hovered over you, indulging himself as he palmed gently at one of your breasts, dragging his thumb slowly against your nipple. That won him another soft moan in your sleep, your cunt clenching, body tightening around nothing. Your next moan was even louder when he dropped his head to drag his tongue hotly against your other nipple, drawing it into his mouth to catch it gently between his teeth, sucking lazily until you let out an even louder moan, one of your hands curling as if to claw at the sheets before relaxing. “Poor thing,” he crooned quietly, reluctantly leaving your breasts to climb the rest of the way up your body. “Listen to you, so needy.”

And it would only be right to help with that, wouldn’t it? 

Once his hips were level with yours, he settled in, rocking and grinding his cock gently against your slit, slicking himself up with your warmth and the saliva he’d left behind. The sudden sensation of your burning heat against the underside of his cock made his mouth fall slack, and he started to pant at the little shocks of pleasure that washed over him every time he caught the head of his cock against your clit. You weren’t much better even asleep, whining as your hips jerked, eyes rolling frantically beneath your lids. It took everything in him to keep his motions gentle and slow, no matter how much his body demanded he grind and rut, fuck his way desperately inside you even if it woke you. No. No, not when he was so close, his cock now slick and ready for you. He let out a shaky breath, burying his face against your warm throat, huffing in the scent of you as he shifted the angle and began to slide inside you, centimeter by warm, delicious centimeter. 

“Fuck,” he whispered shakily, one of his hands fisting desperately in the sheets beside your head. “Fuck, sweetheart. You feel so good.”  

God, you were tight, so close to coming that you were already clenching tight around him. That tightness forced him to move gradually, his progress slowed to a sinfully dangerous crawl, one that allowed him to feel every last twitch and shift of your body around his cock. It seemed designed to make him lose his mind when he was already this worked up. In a blink, he’d caught the fabric of your shirt in his teeth, stifling his hoarse, shaky moan, your shallow, hitched breathing a tantalizing whisper of sensation in his ear. It felt like it took hours,  ages before he’d finally hilted himself inside you, buried in your slick heat. 

He forced himself to still there for a long moment, his chest heaving as he scanned over you with his senses again. 

Stuttered breathing, each breath hiding a faint moan. 

The fluttering clip of your heart, just slow enough to indicate you hadn’t woken. 

Your fingers clenching and releasing, spread thighs shifting in minute, restless movements against the sheets. 

It wouldn’t take much more for him to come, he knew that much—the taste of you still lingered on his tongue, filled his nose, and the drag of your skin against his with every breath only left him burning. But he wasn’t a selfish lover, even when you weren’t awake to beg and plead with him for release. No, he’d make sure you got what you needed, too: his sweetheart, so tender and soft and welcoming to the Devil even in sleep. 

He slowly, gradually settled his weight onto one arm, sliding his free hand down between your bodies. Even that much shifting around had him swallowing down a groan, and he couldn’t resist grinding just a little inside you. It made you twitch and whimper, hushed and breathless in his ear as he pressed his cock against that spot inside you. Once he was sure that hadn’t been enough to wake you, he quickly dragged two fingers through your folds, raking gently to gather up your wetness before he brought them back up to your clit. The rhythm he started was slow and easy, a gentle grind and loop over your clit that matched the rolling waves of his hips as he began to gently fuck you, barely retreating at all before sliding smoothly back to fill you once more. 

It took him no time at all to work your body up that final hill, your breathing growing shorter, your heart rate climbing as you began to tighten around him. It helped that he knew what you needed—each retreat was slow and gentle, and he never left you more than halfway before rolling lazily back forward, ensuring your warm cunt stayed achingly full as he brought you just up to the edge. This time it was your mouth that moved, not a word but a soft whisper of skin as you parted your lips, your head tipping back. And he knew that motion, even as slack and lazy as it was in your sleep. 

He purred quietly at the unconscious request that he fill you there, too, lifting his head to seek out your mouth. One soft lick against your lips and you parted them for him on pure instinct, allowing him to slide his tongue filthily into your slack mouth, dragging his tongue against yours, granting you what you’d asked for. You let out a soft sigh, your throat working beneath him as you sucked at the taste of him, of yourself, of you both. 

All it took from there was one more finger grinding against your clit, a gentle buck of his hips as he moaned into your mouth, and you crested, your body tightening and releasing around him in rippling waves. Your head rolled back in your sleep, a soft gasp shuddering up your throat as you twitched and shook, eyes rolling back beneath your lids. You let out what might have been a moan of his name, hot and sweet, a sound that seared its way across his mind like a brand. That was more than enough for him, and he let himself go. He groaned softly against your lips, snapping his hips gently against you as he spilled himself near-silently inside you, filling your cunt with a spreading heat that you wouldn’t notice until morning. He kissed you through it as gently as he could, rubbing lightly, quickly at your clit to drag your orgasm out along with his, pleasure rolling through him in gentle waves. Even once you both began to come down, he wasn’t quite done, rumbling a low, possessive growl as he ground himself inside you further, ensuring he’d coated every last inch of your warm cunt, his, you were his, even in sleep. He toyed with that overstimulation just long enough for his toes to curl, for his spent, softening cock to twitch inside you, spilling a few more drops, giving you everything he had as you drifted back down into a deep sleep. 

Satisfied with what he’d given you. 

He got one arm down and around your hip, gently, carefully rolling the both of you until you were both on your sides, his cock still buried deep inside you. He rumbled a low noise to reassure your sleeping mind, burying his nose in your hair as you sleepily curled into him, one arm draping itself over his waist. 

“Love you,” he murmured. “My good girl.��� “Mm.”

[lady-belz]

My Game, My Rules: A Dirty Shorts Fic

Kim Seokjin x Female Reader

Prompt: When he has you pinned down to the bed, leans in and says “Now we're gonna play by my rules.” Author Note: This one somehow got away from me and didn't turn out at all like I expected.

Walking into the apartment, you were greeted by the loud sounds of bombs going off, childish laughter and cheesy music.

Jin was home.

You wanted to roll your eyes.

Ever since he'd come back from Japan with a new gaming console, when he wasn't working his schedule or at the studio with the others, he was glued to his video games.

You couldn't remember the last time you had gone on a date, just the two of you and no distractions.

And it wasn't for lack of trying on your part. You even stood in front of the television in a full see-through pink teddy and his only response was to ask you to move before his character was killed.

You went to bed alone, frustrated and angry that he cared more about his games than you.

He woke you up one morning after a semi-sleepless night (he'd been up all night again, gaming with Jungkook and the loud noises kept you awake) to let you know he had to go to the studio. Namjoon had called him asking him to return to re-do his ad-libs on a song they were working on because the original file ended up corrupted and they had to redo the whole thing.

“Whatever.” you said, turning your back on him to try and go back to sleep. He frowned, wondering at your attitude before he shook it off and headed out.

You managed to get 3 hours of blissful, silent sleep before hunger woke you mid-afternoon.

After a shower, you were in the kitchen making some ramen when you spied the game controller for his console on the coffee table. The longer you stared at it, the angrier you got. You grabbed it and decided to hide it in an empty shoe box in your closet, a place he refused to enter without your permission.

Feeling good about yourself, you returned to the kitchen to finish your lunch before heading into your home office to catch up on some work.

Listening to music helped you work better, so you had your headphones on and blasting loudly, so at first you didn't hear the loud sounds coming from the living room. But in the silence between songs you did.

You quickly removed your headphones and went into the other room to find out what was going on. Your eyes widened in shock at the destruction that used to be your living area. Books, DVD movies, couch cushions were thrown all over the place. Even the coffee table was on its side, looking like an abandoned child on a street corner.

The culprit was currently tearing through the cabinet beneath the television.

“Jin, what the fuck?” you shouted, catching his attention.

“Have you seen my game controller?” he demanded. You took a half-step back and scowled, crossing your arms.

“You wrecked the living room because of a game controller?”

“Yeah, where is it?”

“I don't believe you!” you sighed, disappointed. He looked at you, confused.

“What's wrong?”

“What's wrong? Oh I have a list, Kim Seokjin.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, his inner voice shouted “Full name, dude! You are fucked!” and he suddenly realized he may done something to upset you.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked.

“Mad doesn't even begin to cover what I'm feeling.” you snapped back, turning on your heel and stomping away. He heard the bedroom door slam a moment later. He sat back on his heels, lips pursed. Taking in the destruction he caused, he set about cleaning it up, giving you a chance to cool off.

It was near dinner when you finally made an appearance. He had let you be in favor of cooking some of your favorite dishes as an apology for whatever he'd done. But you didn't speak a word to him, choosing to ignore his existence as you shared your dinner at the table.

His phone pinged a notification from the group chat and he took a quick glance at it.

JK: Hyung, Overwatch later?

He started to type a yes but chanced a peek at the sad expression on your face as you picked at your food and changed his mind.

Jin: Not tonight, Y/n is angry at me and I need to find out why.

Jimin: Maybe because you've been ignoring her for the past 2 months?

Jin: Wah?

Yoongi: Dude, you've been non-stop since you came back from Japan. When's the last time you actually acknowledged her existence?

Namjoon: I thought I was the only one who noticed. I didn't say anything though, didn't want to seem pushy.

Hobi: Hate to say it, but you haven't been very attentive. When's the last time you took her on a date, or hugged her or gave her a kiss and all that couply romantic stuff you're supposed to do?”

Jin sat back in his chair, watching as you took your empty dishes to the sink to be washed. He went over every instance in his head of before and after his discharge and couldn't remember the last time he had even told you he loved you.

Jin: Shit.

Namjoon: We'll put off recording the rest of this week. Lol.

JK: Go fix this, hyung. I'm sorry.

Jin: Not your fault, Kookie. It's all mine and I'm going to fix it.

He glanced up, looking for you but you were nowhere to be found. A moment later you returned to the living room, his game controller in hand, setting it on the table beside him before going back to the bedroom. He did not miss seeing the sheen of tears in your eyes.

He definitely had some apologizing to do.

He was not in bed beside you when you awoke the next morning. You were not surprised. Disappointed, but not surprised...

Until you went into the living room after your shower and saw him standing in the middle of the room surrounded by dozens upon dozens of your favorite flowers. They seemed to cover every available surface. Your mouth dropped open in shock.

“W-What is all this?” you stammered, approaching him. He took your hand, bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“I've been an absolute ass to you as of late and I feel horrible about it. I am so sorry.”

“In what way?” you asked, wanting to know for sure if he knew why he was apologizing.

“Beside my schedule keeping me out, when I am here, I'm usually gaming, either alone or with Jungkook when I should be spending time with you. I wouldn't blame you if you broke up with me.” he pouted. You were a sucker for his pouts, and because he knew why you were upset without any prompting went a long way to soothing your hurt feelings.

“Stop pouting, you baby.” you shoved him with a small laugh. He smiled hearing it. Making you laugh was one of his life's pleasures. “And no I don't want to break up with you. I admit, I was extremely hurt. I thought you didn't want me around anymore.”

“Oh no! I would be absolutely lost without you!” he exclaimed, pulling you into his arms, hugging you tightly. “I love you, I cherish you, I adore you.” he whispered into your hair.

“Thank you, Jin. I needed to hear that. And I love you too.” you returned, drawing back slightly to look at his handsome face.

He stared at you for a moment before he leaned in to kiss you, his plush lips mapping yours. Your heart rate accelerated as you kissed him back. You forgot how good his kisses made you feel and a soft moan rumbled in your throat.

Still kissing you because he didn't want to be separated from you for one second, he scooped you up into his arms and strode toward the bedroom.

You took your time undressing one another, kissing each exposed piece of skin revealed before you found yourself beneath him in the middle of the bed.

“Jin, I-” you started to say as he pinned your wrists to the bed above you head. He shushed you, a dark glint in his eye that made you tremble with want. He leaned in to whisper in your ear as he settled his naked body between your thighs.

“Now we're going to play by my rules. So be a good girl and moan for me.” he smirked, making your core throb...

-End-

[vivitalks]

oh but it is GOOD watching percy and annabeth fall in love in real time. to see the looks on their faces as they slowly discover that they would, actually, go to the ends of the earth to protect each other. "if i have to stick with someone," percy says, and then can't bring himself to say i'd choose you, because mere days ago he expected annabeth to stab him in the back at the first opportunity, and now he trusts her more than he trusts his own father, a literal god. "i thought we don't ask for help," percy says, but of course annabeth will swallow her pride (HER FATAL FLAW!!) and ask for help if it means saving percy. annabeth has wanted a quest since she arrived at camp half-blood, and yet she tries to sacrifice herself so the quest can continue without her. percy doesn't give two shits about the gods, and yet he chooses to sacrifice himself, not for the gods, but for his friends - so annabeth doesn't have to. they have been tentative allies for like three days and already they've both decided that nothing is more important than each other. just. man oh man

[shadowcitrine]

Sunbathing

Before the outbreak there's a girl who keeps teasing Daryl.

Daryl's pov. Angry Daryl. Daryl and named OC. Kind of dirty.

18+ You're responsible for the content you consume.

First post nerves.

Of course she was here! She was everywhere he fuckin’ went. It was like she knew when he needed space and had some sick twisted need to devour what little time he carved out for himself. That stupid fuckin’ Mather's girly is just laying out by the river bank, arms beneath her head like she owns the whole god damned river and the sun is shining down on her over the tree tops like it agrees with her.

Picking up the fishing pole, Daryl's fist tightened around it, his face screwing up in anger makin’ his whole head hurt twice as much. He lets everyone walk all over him, but not anymore, not today. Especially not stupid Mercy who parades around in her dumb tiny shorts and ugly cut off shirts.

Taking the pole over to a shady spot he throws himself down, landing with a grunt. Digging through the little box of feathers he keeps in a tin till he finds a few small ones to tie on. If Mercy is watching him behind those dark glasses of hers he can't tell, not that he was lookin’ anyway. Not that he cares.

He cast the line, sticking the pole in the ground to light a cigarette and wait. She hasn't said a word and it's so unlike her that he thinks she has to be asleep. It's the only time she ain't asking him a million questions or trying to order him around. He stamps out the first butt and lights another. Takes him nearly all of the second one before he can hear the water trickling by beyond the anger pounding around in his head. Takes him even longer to realize his line has too much slack. The reel clicks quietly, a familiar lullaby that usually helps empty his head but not this time, not today.

Mercy still ain't talking. It's the longest they've ever been around each other without her at least sayin’ hi and now it's bothering him. He came out here for peace and now her silence is eating him alive. Not like bein’ around her does him any good. Never has, not even when they were kids. Just to try and take his mind off of her he starts reeling in the line, puffing on the smoke between his teeth but the harder he tries not to think about her the more he does.

That girl sighs and it draws his attention away from his half hearted attempt at fishing. She's still just layin’ there, knees now bent. Her shorts are digging into the upper parts of her thighs making little dips there that make his fingers itch to touch. She's just some annoying girl that he doesn't even like.

Then she moves again, rolling to her knees in the dirt, dead grass clinging to her back she's digging in a small cooler. Picking out some red white and blue ice pop she stuffs the wrapper inside before flopping back down on the ground. Still, not a single word out of her. She sick? High?

The more he looks at her painting her lips with the cherry end of the ice cream the more he's bothered by her silence because he can't help but see something else in his head. The way her tongue swipes across her bottom lip collecting the sticky sweetness there makes him tense in a way he shouldn't be around her but can't seem to help.

“Why ain't you sayin’ nothin’?” He asks. It just sort of bubbled up.

She takes her time answering sucking on the end of it making a soft lewd noise that makes his dick twitch. “Thought I talked too much Dixon?” there isn't even any anger in it. She's acting like she isn't even bothered by him being there watching her suck half the ice cream in to her mouth like she suckin’ cock.

“You do.” He drops the spent butt on the ground, his fishing pole forgotten.

She hums again around her snack, lips making a slurping noise around it like they do on titty channels that come on late at night. “Want me to ask you how you got that shiner?” She turns her head to look at him and if she notices him move his leg to hide his half chub she doesn't say.

Mercy runs a tongue along the underside of it catching drops of it before it can land on her tits and he's silently hoping she misses just one. Then his dick is coming alive thinking of her swearing the melted sugar water across them, swirling the red end over a nipple until it's rock hard. He don't need to be thinking about her like that but he can't look away.

She sits up holding in her mouth, cheeks hollowing around it and he swears she's doing it on purpose. No, she knows what she's doing and this–this tease is secretly eating up the attention. Mercy grabs the bottom of her shirt, pulling it over her head. She isn't wearing a bra or even one of her bright colored biking tops, no, she isn't wearing anything at all now ‘cept them frayed shorts of hers.

“Put your shirt back on Mercy!”

She lickin on the end for a moment, watching him watch her. He can't not think about how her ice cream is smaller than his dick. “Stop actin’ all mad.” She drops her head back.

Stop actin’ mad? Stop actin’ mad! She's doing this to fuck with him cause he doesn't wanna talk to her. He can see it in the way she smiles at him before biting off the last of the cherry flavor. Knows it when she leans back on her elbows to push her tits out on full display. She does all this shit just to fuck with him and he can't even figure out why! She treats him like he's nothin’! Tryin’ to push all his god damned buttons! Fuck her and fuck this!

He has to readjust himself as subtly as he can just to stand up. Even being mad at her doesn't stop his cock from throbbing, doesn't stop the ache. Then he's mad all over again because this is Mercy he's thinking about. Bitchy, awful, needy Mercy who comes over and smokes pot with Merle. The same girl who laughs whenever his brother calls him some stupid girl's name. This same girl who tries to lay against him on the couch when Merle leaves to go get more beer because she's lonely.

He's shaking his head. “I ain't in the mood for your shit. ‘M goin’ home.” He hates her. Hates the pink strip of colored hair that falls over her shoulder. Hates the way his brain has already memorized the trail of blue melt that's dripping on the swell of her breast and racing for her dusky nipple.

“If you stay–” she shouts loud enough for him to hear. “I'll let you touch em'.”

He even hates himself at this moment because now his feet are planted in the ground. Needing a distraction he lights a cigarette he doesn't even smoke. “The fuck you think I wanna touch your tits for?”

Mercy shrugs. “You keep staring.”

He snorts a breath of air through his nose. None of it even means anything to her, she's just messing with him. Always messing with him and he was tired of being nice. “You're the one who whipped em’ out to get me to look. What did you expect?”

Her face twists up. “I'm sun bathing asshole! I was the one who was here first!”

“And you ain't pretending to give the world's shittiest blow job with that thing?” He takes a hit off his cigarette nodding to the sweet melting in her hand. Her face is turning red, the tips of her ears are burning in embarrassment. He's turned the tables on her, called her out on her little game and she can't take it. Some distant part of him feels an inkling of pride at that. Her lip curls and he's moving towards her one slow step at a time.

“I changed my mind. Get fucked!” She throws down her ice cream in the grass.

Letting out a soundless laugh he's next to her now. Daryl's looking down his nose at her, the blue melt finally falling off the tip of her breast. “You wanna suck cock? Here it is.” Then he's grabbing himself through his jeans.

He blames the fact that there's no blood left in his head for why he's acting like this. That he needs her good and pissed off and disgusted all so she'd quit trying to get on his nerves all the damn time. He wants her to hate him as much as he hates her. Only, she ain't pushing him away. No, she's licking her sticky lips as she looks up at him behind those big ugly glasses.

“What? Can't figure out how a belt works?” He asks her. He's goading her to yell at him, but she hasn't yet. He sticks the smoke in his lips bending down to grab her hand. He pushes her fingers against the buckle when he stands back up. “C'mon! You want it so bad you're going to have to take it out yourself.”

Mercy bites her bottom lip as she twists to sit on her knees in front of him. His heart stutters in his chest when she begins to tug on the strap and he nearly laughs. She was so desperate she was actually going to suck him off. She's silent for probably the second time in her whole life as she undoes his belt.

[ohwolfling]

the Gale of Waterdeep blow job meta

this is the most unhinged I've been on this website since like 2012 but here goes...

This is a piece pulling what we can from the game- Gale’s statements, characterizations, etc- and applying it to the narrative & symbolic function of sex in literature. It won’t be too academic ultimately, as I personally am still in Act II, and will not be citing any sources other than my trauma-earned armchair psychology and years of field experience as a bit of a heaux. 

This really strikes at the duality of Gale, something I think that ultimately makes people crazy for Gale. Gale is a giver AND Gale is desperate for control. Players who find Gale annoying or think he’s pure bravado miss this entirely. They take him at face value.

And to complicate things, Gale’s entire story is about connection. Trapped by unstable magic, desperately (but casually, no big deal, oh don’t fuss over me) reaching out. That’s Gale’s start but it’s also just… Gale’s story.

Okay, it’s horny henceforth…

Gale is a giver. That is, he's someone who wants to give, give entirely. His full self. It's what tangles Gale as possibly the most monogamous character, the most openly devoted character, the sincerest, but also a character easily distracted from the limitations of his own vows. Giving himself entirely isn't something he can do in the way that he wants with a one on one, mortal, committed partnership. 

Because Gale wants it to hurt. Gale wants it to destroy him. 

The Weave is many things for and to Gale, but for our purposes we have to talk about it as a balm to loneliness. At the Tiefling party, Gale possibly speaks about Tara being proud of him, and regrets he hasn’t given her much of that lately. He’s speaking of his tressym as an equal, almost as a parent. For him, saving the Tieflings feels like “having repaid the favor,” as if he needs to do penance for letting his tressym encourage him, aid him. She was all he had because he set up wards to prevent any colleague or friend from checking on him. Magic is the only companion allowed to see Gale if he’s not at 100%, if he’s not ready to be Wizard of Waterdeep™. Of course, Tara’s origins are relevant here. It’s easy to see Gale as someone with a streak of ambition but I think it all comes down to that first wound/heal with magic… Validation, company, companionship, magic gave that to him- rewarded him- with Tara at a very young age.

“Magic is my life. I’ve been in touch with the Weave for as long as I can remember.”

The Weave functions too as a neutral space for Gale to initially connect with Tav in the small, at least romance leaning Act I scene that happens after you engage him creating his little illusory Mystra. Gale showing Tav the Weave is a safer way for Gale to show himself. It’s an intrinsic part of who he is but it’s also a shield, a wall, a safety net. Teaching or showing Tav the Weave’s wonders gives him the control he seeks AND the opportunity to impress. “You feel something warm, like a kind word and a kind touch at the same time.” We have no way of knowing if this is what the Weave feels like to Gale, and so to us through him, or if what we’re feeling there is Gale’s influence over the Weave. Are we nestled in the cup Mystra’s hand or what Gale wants it to be? Wishes it would do for him? Is the sense of a kiss hovering about Tav and Gale or is that element of Mystra’s using of Gale so tangled in this magic that he can’t shake it free?

Mystra plucks him up. First teacher, then muse, then lover. Then the root of his demise. With Mystra he is both chosen and servant. I’d argue a worship kink is at play, or at the very least it is the lens in which Gale’s sense of sensuality has been most amplified.

At a point these feelings of conflict- never alone but lonely, wizard prodigy but just one of many men or boys plucked by Mystra, Wizard of Waterdeep but the Whatever of Mystra- are as crucial to his idea of the Weave, to magic, as the spells themselves. Gale has comparatively high charisma… his magic is a performance, as much to himself and of himself, as to anyone or for anyone/anything else.

Gale's boundary pushing is about proving himself through admiration, through praise. He craves it, good boy, Gale. Very the Wizard of Waterdeep of you.

His first assumption in New Love is that he has to offer Tav something more than himself. “I could do more than woo you - I could wow you.” Gale doesn’t understand how those are ultimately one and the same. Sex hasn’t been about connection, solidification, or strictly pleasure for him. It has been about proving himself, about being worthy, about service (which is another great somehow parallel & foil he has with Astarion but that’s for another time).

The specific intimacy of a blow job reverses the conflicted feelings and roles that Gale is accustomed to. In pornography and even popular culture, blow jobs are- erroneously in my opinion- depicted as something dominant and masterful for the receiver. Even something to be wielded as punishment or degrading, even in consensual BDSM practices.

In reality, a blow job is the ultimate submission. It makes Gale a man, it centers his manhood figuratively and literally. He loses a sense of control. Yes, even service gives one a sense of control. But the giver's power is not just in how their mouth wraps around ye classic quivering member. It's in intent. Pace. Pressure. Eye contact, the use of hands, fingers, even toys… The humanity of oral sex. And the humanity of the thing is not something Gale knows. 

Even if Mystra has played the giver it was for her game/goals and her pleasure. It was an adjustment to or pull of his strings. Gale tells Tav he has been with other mortals but I doubt as Gale the Man™. While creating a full night sky and seeking to do it the way the gods do (which we know means the way Mystra taught him or the way Mystra refers) is a genuine and catered moment for Tav, his other lovers no doubt got lazier, less genuine showmanship or else the wit and bravado and courtesy he thinks people expect of him. Early in Act I in his tale of the pub fight he manages to stop, the peace he makes comes at his cost- just monetary in that equation, but the point is, even in his performance of a Big Deal™, sexual or otherwise, Gale seeks to give to maintain the status quo. Gale’s sexuality, just like his magic, is genuine, sincere, and very present part of himself but it’s also unrecognizable to him if he has to stop thinking of it as a tool for five seconds.

Gale himself being a giver is something I really think he takes great pleasure in. His references to it out of the heat of the moment are something he is speaking about fondly and assuredly. He probably enjoys going down on someone as much as he enjoys magic. Like magic, he knows he’s good. Specifically with his tongue (I SCREAM). But remember, he is groomed by a goddess. A literal goddess. He is not just servicing, giving, he is WORSHIPING. Body worship is inherently submission and it’s specifically service oriented submission. Gale knows and has self esteem issues and hang ups around being submissive and if that submission secretly means he’s not good enough- likely why he tries to one up people, places, and things even as he begs to be back in that position of submission- but Gale genuinely likes being of service sexually. 

Gale, by virtue of being a great pretender, has never really given himself over to the real mortal experience of sex. Which brings us to the big moment of trust… 

The ultimate act of trust for Gale is letting someone in… he fully expects to be met with hatred and derision for his attempt with the orb. How could anything genuine be anything else? How could Gale's Folly, mortal, human, desperate, far reaching, reckless, be worth anything but hate? 

The reason Mystra can make Gale so easily believe that seeking these lost pieces of herself for her- even if unasked for, even if unwanted, even if upsetting to her, even if a misinterpretation of where their relationship stood at the time- was so unforgivable is because Gale thinks what the orb is doing to him reveals his ultimate sin, his glaring weakness… it makes him WANT. it makes him NEED. In Gale’s mind there’s nothing worse a man could do.

Blow jobs extend this into the element of control and real, physical intimacy. He's in your hands. He can't pace or bait his own pleasure. Pleasure is a thing happening to him. What is more human than the whimpers and moans in ecstacy when it feels so good you don't care if you cum or die? What does it mean for Gale to be made really and finally tangible and mortal in someone’s eyes? It’s the thing his most intimate connections have always liked least about him (and I imagine outright punished him for).

He can't earn credit or bonus points or paint himself the god. He will cum before you. You will give that gift to him. That's often the whole point. For Gale, anything like that with Mystra after being initially groomed by her into her hall of lovers would've been a debt. He might want you too much, too obviously, too greedily, if he’s in YOUR hands. Even his proposed “as the gods do” creates so many doubles of himself that you couldn’t have time to think, much less ever find yourself wanting. Gale genuinely connects to Tav, genuinely expresses love for them, but still does so by anticipating needs, assuming he isn’t enough, giving Tav no time to want or need, thereby leaving no room for adjustment, correction, or disappointment. 

Gale speaks about pushing the boundaries of magic. In having sex with Mystra he is taken into the vision of her world. But she won't go with him, won't take him further in, won't actually teach him or show him or grant him anything. The great beyond for Gale is not really magic or forgiveness or whatever… It's intimacy. 

Gale doesn't think he can just ask for intimacy. Doesn't think he can just find it organically. He must suffer for it, make a grand gesture, make up for the ways his mortality have dirtied Mystra by making her more herself, the way she was in Gale's mind before he tainted her with his want. Even in the realm of intimacy, he assumes he will have to be on his best behavior and earn it. It doesn’t occur to Gale until deep into Act II, post the romance scene and further validation from Tav, that having those restrictions on intimacy and care as a standard in a relationship is damaging, unfair, or cruel. 

“Now more than ever, it’s important to recall what makes us human.”

There is no right or wrong way to romance any of the romance options in Baldur’s Gate 3, of course. But narratively, Gale’s story begs for further examination and agency for Gale the Man, versus the Wizard of Waterdeep.Gale is at his best when he is open, vulnerable, and reaching out. He is as tactile seeking as he is ever-calculating about who he is to who, what he does or does not owe, what will maximize on paper his value and contributions. Left to his own devices, Gale will literally explode or transcend to avoid any offense or harm the baseness of his humanity might cause. Sex is a magic and spirituality that offers us briefly to transcend ourselves but while being wholly of our bodies, that makes we silly mortals keenly aware of our physical, limited humanity even as an orgasm can hit so hard you lightly trip balls and don’t know how to use your hands.

No one has ever needed a blow job more than Gale Dekarios. If he wants to explode, I MEAN 

[projectbluearcadia]

"Oops."

This is just the kind of scenario that pops up in my head a lot. The walls in the House of Lamentation have ears. (Suggestive)

---

“MC, my room. Now,” Lucifer snapped when he saw the mess you and Mammon had made. As usual, Mammon was getting himself in trouble with a so-called good idea and you were roped into it. This time, it had been adopting a feral demon.

Mammon, of course, had wanted to become a selective breeder after he heard about what purebred dogs are worth. Though now he gave up on that because he was a little too attached to the pair of Harumons he’d just adopted. 

In any case, the living room was an absolute disaster area, and Lucifer was very clearly pissed. 

“I-It was me! Why're you taking MC??” Mammon cried after Lucifer, and he turned a glare back at his little brother. 

“I’ll deal with you later.” 

And he left Mammon in silence, dragging MC by the collar. 

Guilty and feeling scared for the resident human, he followed and debated outside Lucifer’s door whether or not he should knock it down and rescue her. 

“L-Listen, Lucifer we can talk about th—Ah!” Mammon flinched at the high-pitched cry against the door accompanying a loud thud. 

“MC…” Lucifer’s lowered voice rasped. “I think I already warned you there would be consequences for doing something stupid like this.” 

“You’re not my dad!”

“No,” Lucifer replied, and a whimper resounded through the wood, making Mammon shiver. Should he risk it and jump in? Should he? “But you serve me, now don’t you MC?” 

“Well…y-yes…” 

“And since you so willingly went along with whatever that idiot’s harebrained scheme was this time, you’re going to make me feel better.” 

“M-My knees are still sore… sir.” Mammon was half tempted to break in there, a little enraged at the thought of whatever physical punishment he’d given to her. Didn't he know that human was fragile!? And how could he do that when she was so cute anyway!?

“Then rest assured that I’ll make something else sore today.”

“W-Wait, Lu-Lucifer,” she gasped before she let out a surprised cry, and Mammon felt his ears turn hot as the sound of a kiss and something else reached his ears. 

“No waiting,” Lucifer growled, breathless as she panted. “I’ve been waiting.” 

“Ah! N-Not there!” she cried out, still heaving for breath, and Mammon flinched as he heard a thump against the door. 

“Why not? You’re shaking your hips like you’re enjoying it. Dirty girl.” 

Fuckin’ hell, Mammon thought. He’s doin' it that way…. Come to think of it, I think Levi was complaining about that earlier... I really should lea--

“Ahn?! Lucifer, why did you lick me!?” 

Mammon's ears turned pink at the sound that came out of her mouth, and he found himself desperately wishing that he was in Lucifer's place.

“Would you have preferred I childishly bit you like I wanted to?" Lucifer chuckled to himself. "But you want me to lick somewhere else, don’t you? If you want that, then you’re going to beg for it… and I’ll make you scream so loud that the entire house will know.”

“A-Aren’t you afraid they’ll get scared…?” 

“They know I’m here, and they know damn well I’d never let anything happen to you. They’ll know exactly why you’re screaming. I promise.” 

Mammon covered his reddened face with a groan. That asshole knew I was gonna follow to make sure she was okay, didn' he? Fuck. I'm not sleepin' tonight...

As a bonus, when the other brothers found out that Mammon was the reason that Lucifer was making MC scream louder than usual, they casually bullied him the next day. Lucifer was satisfied.

MC later made them make up and screwed them both ruthlessly.

[puowei]

CONGRATS ON 300 PUOOOO OMGGGG PUONATION GROWING 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

For the event, can i request cater tsummy with cater's phone? He's sooo silly i love cater tsummy

AAAAAAAAA THANKYOUUU REI!!! 😫💥🧡🧡

I LOVE THE TERM PUONATION EDHNEHDNEJDNEJDNEJDN (I think i'm gonna start using it, if u allow me)

Screen addiction.

This is part of 300secs Drawing Request Event

[lady-belz]

Make Me: A Dirty Shorts Fic

Hobi x Female Reader

Prompt: When he tells you to shut up and you accidentally say “Make me!” and you see his eyes darken for a split second.

The argument had been on-going for nearly an hour. It had started out as something small and stupid – you'd spent the morning cleaning the apartment while he'd been at the studio and then had gone out to do some grocery shopping. He was home when you returned, laying on the couch with his sweaty feet all over your recently cleaned coffee table. And you just snapped.

You started complaining about all the shit you hated that he did (even though it didn't bother you all that much, but you were in Cranky Bitch Mode). He was shocked at first, but then he got mad as well and started listing everything he hated about you (which wasn't anything at all, but you were in Cranky Bitch Mode and he needed to shut that shit down ASAP!).

But he couldn't even get a word in edge-wise because you would override him every single time and he finally had enough. He tossed his hands in the air and shouted as loud as he could stand “Will you shut up already!”

Your eyes widened for a fraction of a second before you scowled at him. “Make me!” you snapped back. The moment those words left your lips, he pinned you with his dark gaze and you felt your pulse start racing. You held up a hand as he started to slowly stalk toward you. “I-I didn't mean that, Hobi.”

“Sounded like you did.” his tone went an octave lower and you knew you were in trouble.

“Can we talk about this?” you tried, stumbling backwards.

“I think I'm done talking.” he growled, catching up to you. You made a slight noise as he grabbed you by the back of the neck, hauling you into a deeply passionate kiss that shut down your brain and scrambled your senses.

After a short time, he released you, grabbed you by the back of your legs and tossed you over his shoulder before turning and striding toward the bedroom.

“Hobi, put me down!” you laughed. He slapped your ass before replying back...

“Make me!”

-End-

[girltiger5000]

Happy new years!! Here’s my headcanons for the Tulpar crew’s bodies 😌

[splurgehmd]

New jockstrap 😎