#I hate him yet I don’t yet I truly do

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

Sure, grab Achilles —a character who’s doomed by the narrative, who causes his own end, who’s selfish and argumentative and only cares for himself and a few specific people close to himself (Patroklos, his parents, etc), who kills others like it doesn’t matter, who doesn’t seek revenge, revenge seeks him, who knew his fate since he was a kid and his life was always built around the walls of Troy, going round and round just like Hektor’s body around Patroklos’ tomb, round and round, again and again, knowing he would end up there, than it was his destiny, than it would be a no return journey, who caused the death of one of the most beloved people to him, who is one of the main characters of the iliad, and yet he’s very different to usual heroes (while he do is brave, he also refuses to fight, he’s not compassionate, he doesn’t care than people from his side of the battle, his friends, are dying because of him, he first refused to return Hektor’s body to his family, he’s hot-tempered and easy to angry, all the things than don’t scream ancient hero, and while he has all the embodiments of a hero, his flaws always end up taking over. He ends up being prideful, let’s his rage take over without rationalizing, and yet he’s neither good nor bad. Homer doesn’t say if he’s good or if he’s bad, he just is), feared by women, disliked by (some) of his companions, liked by Patroklos (how tf he dealt with him is truly a mystery), he literally went on a strike in the middle of a war, stubborn doesn’t even begin to describe him, and yet someone who loves fiercely and brutally, son of a goddess, swift-footed Achilles, with the golden sun shining down on his skin and the sand of the beach mixed between his light-colored hair, with his man-slaying hands, lion-hearted, causing his own destruction since before the start of the story— and make him into a one-dimensional politically correct likable character for your retelling. Go ahead, I won’t be mad I promise *my hands start shaking so much they eventually explode*

[cryptiduni]

“white mourning.”

[skhardwarevers1]

lowkey. Not over my ex at all

[philsmeatylegss]

“Parasocial relationships are bad” “it’s not creators’ responsibility to cater to your feelings”

I genuinely am still heartbroken three years later about finding out what an awful human Shane Dawson was and is and I truly still feel angry and betrayed by him and I don’t give a shit if it is parasocial.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Simon was seething. Never had he been so viscerally angry, his temper dangerously towing the tight rope that was his self control. You’d almost been killed. You’d been shot, and you were damn lucky that it hadn’t been fatal.

He found you on the roof later that night, no longer hiding the pain the bullet wound in your side had caused once you thought you were alone. It took all of two seconds of him seeing you hurting like that for him to snap.

“The fuck were you thinking out there, Y/N?!” His voice echoed in the night air, causing you to flinch slightly. “Do please tell me you’ve got a reasonable explanation for what happened.”

“Simon, please just calm down for a minute.” Your voice was soft, too soft, and it only fueled his anger more.

“Calm down? You want me to calm down?” Simon bellowed, his self control rapidly slipping out of his grasp. “You almost fuckin’ died, Y/N!”

Simon hated the way you flinched, hated the way you backed up ever so slightly away from him, but he couldn’t control himself. He had almost lost you.

“I know that, Simon. I know. But I don’t regret what went down.” You forced your voice steady, your eyes not leaving his as you attempted to stand your ground. “I-.”

“You don’t regret almost getting shot? Y/N, you’re not on this team to make reckless decisions. If I knew you’d be making choices like that, I’d have had Price kick you off the team months ago! Almost dying, for what? For what?!” Simon moved closer to you, the red in his vision nearly blinding, and this time you didn’t back away.

“For you, asshole!” You screamed, your hands reaching for Simon’s chest, pushing him as hard as you possibly could. Simon barely moved an inch before you screamed again. “For you! If I hadn’t taken that bullet, you would’ve died!”

Simon’s world stopped in that moment, the red vanishing from his vision, his heart coming to a slow halt in his chest as he absorbed your words. For him?

“He was aiming at you, Simon. If I hadn’t stepped in the way, we would’ve lost you. And I.” You trailed off, unable to look at the hulking man in front of you. “I don’t know, I didn’t hesitate, it was as if it was just instinct for me.”

Simon could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the soft thud thud thud the only thing keeping him grounded. You’d saved him. You’d risked your life to save him.

You, the sweet soldier who always put others first. You, the one who’d always patched him up late at night, laughing at his shitty jokes. You, the one who understood him like nobody else. You, the one person in this godforsaken world that got him to lower the never ending walls within him. You, the one he’d unknowingly loved for years. Saved him.

“I know it was stupid, and if you want to kick me off of the team for it, fine. But I’d do it again.” You threw your hands up in the air, and Simon didn’t miss the way you winced from the pain in your side. “I don’t regret it.”

Simon only stared at you, his eyes betraying none of the inner turmoil that he was currently experiencing.

“I couldn’t lose you, Simon.” Your voice was barely audible as you spoke, your eyes falling on the lower half of his mask. “Not now, not ever. I don’t know what I would’ve done if that bullet hit you.”

Simon’s eyes found yours as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue felt heavy, incapable of moving. For the first time in his life, he truly didn’t know what to say.

He watched as you chewed your bottom lip, your eyes leaving his yet again as you looked down at your feet. God he wishes he could say something, anything, but as always words failed him around you.

“I’ve got to go report in to Price.” You said, slowly turning away from him to face the door. “I won’t apologize for what I did, but I’m sorry for causing you to doubt my ability to support the team. Have a good night, lieutenant.”

Watching you turn away from him had finally stirred something within him, his heart rapidly beating in his chest. He had to make this right.

“Y/N.” Simon found his voice as you reached the roof’s door, causing you to turn to face him. “Wait.”

Your heart practically stopped beating upon finding Simon’s mask discarded, his face now fully bare for you to see. You weren’t sure what you had expected, once you’d finally seen him, but it certainly wasn’t this.

He was simply beautiful. Every scar, every small freckle, dimple, wrinkle had formed his face impeccably well, and you couldn’t help but stare at him as your mind ran completely blank.

You’d fallen for the masked man long ago, his dry humor, loyalty and bravery were something that’d you’d found yourself drawn to. You’d meant what you said to him about not regretting taking a bullet for him. You loved him. And truthfully couldn’t fathom a life without him.

“Now you see me.” Simon breathed, his eyes softening as he watched you take in every inch of his face. He should’ve felt vulnerable, shy even. But he didn’t. Not with you. He wanted you to see him, every imperfect inch of him.

He bared himself to you, let his face and eyes tell you everything he didn’t know how to express with words.

“I’ve always seen you, Simon Riley.” You spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as your hand softly cupped his cheek. “Always.”

And that was all it took for Simon to know he loved you.

[chastiefoul]

he finds you crying ft. love and deepspace men

ft. zayne, xavier, rafayel, and sylus a/n: I always feel like mc wasn’t given enough time to grief when chapter 4 happened (or maybe they just didn’t show it or i remember it wrong) but to lose the people you’ve considered family like that in front of your eyes would severely mess on anyone’s mental well-being. mc stronger than me fr i would've had a breakdown every night. so i tried to write the comfort that was long overdue. <3

Zayne

He found you hunched over at the couch, knees tucked to your chest. your shoulder shook as he heard the sniffles and although he’s physically perfectly fine, he swore it felt like his heart was breaking in two.

He would gently put his key on the table, making his presence known in the subtlest way possible so you didn’t get startled.

You quickly tried to wipe your eyes and sat normally but suddenly in no time you were carried as he made you sit on his lap, bringing your head close to his neck as he held you tight.

Zayne wasn’t one who’s great at offering consoling words, as he also a firm believer of actions speak louder than words. As he rubbed your back gently he only said, “Let it all out, I’m here.”

So you did just that. You’ve said this once to him as a joke, but truly, anywhere by his side was the time you felt the most safe.

The doctor continued to comfort you in silence, hoping with every beat of his heart that his arms and hands that’s so used in saving people’s lives, could offer at least some kind of solace for your heart that was in disarray.

Xavier

He’d never hated the sight of a bed so much, until he found you crying atop of it.

Xavier would rushes over to you (arguably faster when he encountered strayed wanderers), determined to do anything he could to help you feel better.

As he put a hand over your cheek, wiping the tears that just kept on coming he whispered, “I’m here, what do you need?”

When you couldn’t even manage a reply Xavier would just stay by your side, his and was diligent in rubbing the side of your face; he never felt so useless, knowing the little gesture gave almost to none help.

For someone who finds sleep easy inbetween every hours, that was the most restless he’s ever been. He stayed with you until you calmed down, offering gentle whispers as you felt your awake state slipping away.

The moment you’re asleep Xavier was keen on wiping your face softly off of the remaining tears, and he tucked you in properly. He brought you to his embrace.

Yet unlike any other nights, he couldn’t find any part of him that was able to join you into the dream state.

Rafayel

Rafayel knew he came at a bad time. Seeing the way you spoke so stiffly and the way you zoned out of the conversation every few minutes.

However, he also knew he couldn’t leave you alone right then.

The silence once again was loud, but he didn’t think you realize that, as he followed your stare to the table, to what’s on the top of the table to be exact. A necklace with an apple charm on it.

He approached your side, cupping your face with both of his hands. “Miss bodyguard, you don’t have to be strong all the time, you know? Especially now, since you’re off duty.”

You chuckled quietly, but what followed after was not your usual easy smile but instead it was tears streaming down your face. And it felt like Rafayel could offer anything he had just to make them stop. And if that’s not enough, he swore to give you twice or thrice of what he had, it didn’t matter if he was to be in debt.

He held you tight, the sight of you crying was enough to make tears made their way to his eyes as well. And it pained him, knowing the best he could do in that moment was only to hold you tighter, as he wished that he could mend whatever broken part you had with one of his.

Sylus

He didn’t even flinch when you climbed on his lap, your usual talkativeness was nowhere to be found.

You rested your head on his shoulder and within seconds he knew that your emotions were in chaos, and if you thought you could find comfort in him, then he was more than happy to be there for you.

“Let me stay like here for a while,” you said weakly, voice all tense and anxious.

He brought a palm to your back, “By all means, darling. You didn’t think I was going to turn you away, did you?”

You stayed quiet, trying your best to get your emotions in order but it just seemed impossible. Sylus then sigh at your another attempt to pretend once again that you’re okay. “Cry if you need. Tears were never a sign of weakness, it just proves that you’re human.”

His rigid sentence somehow brought a strange sense of comfort for you, making your tears escape freely.

Sylus’ fingers felt fleeting on your back, like a touch that could slip away anytime. But he made sure none of that will happen as he stroke your hair gently over and over.

Was he worried of you? Absolutely. Yet he believed with all of his entire being that you that has fallen apart that day, would have no time standing back up again on the next day.

If there’s anything he learnt about you during your time with him, is that you’re a stranger to giving up.

[luslushearth]

Hate sex with Sunday…. (Placed before he becomes harmonious or whatever)

Warnings: Afab reader, overstimulation, degrading, unprotected, creampie, Reader is really vulgar/bratty, Marking

The silent serenity of the room is disturbed by pants, and loud squelches of your growing lust splattering through the air. The only thing muffling your moans is a gloved hand engulfing your lips. Unfortunately for Sunday, you are purposefully trying to be heard by the entirety of Penaconys dreaming visitors. Sometimes, he seems to forget just how much of a handful you are…

You bite his gloved hand, the man pounding into your pussy hissing in pain. Yet, each thrust continues its relentless pace, only slowing to allow him words, an insult (though he calls them ‘critiques’) for you.

“You… I truly… do dislike you.”

“Aww… Haa… Seems like your dick loves me though.” You’re immediately silenced when Sunday burrows your body into the matress, hitting that spot inside you when he thrusts at a particular angle. “Ah…! S-see…? Your dick really does love— Oh…!” Sundays finger works diligently on stimulating your clit, the cloth fabric of his gloves only furthering the sensation. “Maybe….! Maybe not me… But you’re really obsessed with my— Haahh… My— Mm..!” You don’t even have the chance to finish your sentence, Sundays lips finding refuge on yours.

He’s… Never done that before…

You moan into his lips, his thumb still grinding itself into your bud while his other hand plays with your tit, rolling the nub between his fingers.

When you pull away for air, you whisper his name, attempting to ask what it is he’s doing, but you’re stopped again when he dives into your mouth, spit exchanging with each movement. You can feel yourself approaching climax, much earlier than you bet to him you would. Which is horrible, because, that means you’ll essentially be a cocksleeve for him whenever he wishes for the next few months.

He separates his lips from you, smiling at the way a thick trail of saliva connects you two, spit trailing off the side of your mouth. It’s a thrilling site, one that makes him hit that spot in your walls even faster than before. His wings flap to the side of your head, cutting off your vision from anything else but him.

“You… Haah… You truly are a temptress.” All it takes is a finally snap of his hips and your hand flies up to his head, gripping his hair as your walls flutter around his length. Despite your blissful climax, he continues his ministrations slowly even as you cum, further serving your rapture. “It’s why I dislike you so.”

You’re not sure why he hates you so much, but you have no time to think about it, especially when he props himself up. He looks down at your dazed face, a smirk coating his lips. All too familiar.

“Wha… Give me some time to recover you beast— Ahh.. Fuck…!”

“It’s not fair if only you have release. Besides… Haa… You’ve survived… more than one hnngh, haven’t you?” … He plans to wreck the absolute hell out of you. He leans down to your ear, a husky voice escaping him, “You don’t deserve relaxation on the seventh day, so atone for your transgressions.” He props your legs above his shoulder, essentially preparing you to become his own personal cum dump.

“Sunday you little bastard—! Nghh…!” You won’t admit it him, you never will, but that was so hot. Yet again, he might know you think it, especially with the way your eyes roll back in pleasure, the idea of him emptying his seed furthering you thirst.

“I hope you remember that… Haah… promise… I prefer pe… pests at least remain orderly…” his thrusts grow sloppy, words slurring, a sign he’s close. In a last ditch effort of revenge, you laugh at him, tightening harder. You’ll shred his dignity too, even if you have to surrender your own.

He glares at your face, that sneer breaking when he can feel himself coming close, your second climax quickly reproaching. After a few more thrusts, he empties himself, all of himself into your body, not daring to pull out. In turn, your flutter around him once again, squirting at his abdomen, wetting expensive clothes. He allows himself to plug your hole, your fingers brushing through his hair while his face finds refuge in your neck.

“Aww, my favorite sight… the all famed Sunday pathetically weeping at getting his dick wet~ Now, what time do you want me out of here hm?”

“Did an imp like you really believe us to be done?” His hand reaches back to your hips, his grip tightening.

“… What?”

…

You lay on the side of the bed, glaring at the culprit of your current bed ridden state. He doesn’t return the sentiment, a false face of pleasantries returning your feelings.

“I hate you Sunday, whatever your last name is.”

“Hate is strong, I prefer dislike. Take my feelings for you.” He continues to smile even when you swat your hand at him, an attempt to kick him out of the bed.

“Yeah? Well you must’ve really like that huh?! Look at me you bastard!” You lift up the blanket, pointing at your pussy that drips with the multitudes of load he spent inside of you. At some point you lost count, but you know for sure it was more than 7. “I mean, how could someone cum that fucking much?!” He doesn’t answer, tilting his head, beaming. “I’m not even gonna start on all these bites you freak.”

“I see, so you’re saying you’re much to weak to go again?”

You pause. He’s doubting you.

“I could do it again.”

“Are you sure? My, I wouldn’t want to hurt such a frail being—“

“I can fuck you again Sunday, stop being—!” He’s already on you as quick as the words left your throat, your legs wrapping around his hips. He’s lucked out, this part of the dreamscape is emptier than usual at this time.

Unfortunately, you seem to be quite the opposite… You’ve fallen for Sundays tricks once more. Then again, the feeling of his dick rearranging your guts, isn’t as bad as you tell him it is.

[tonycries]

Wanna Do Bad Things To You

Synopsis. He fucks you like he hates you. You didn’t mean to fuck your old friend-with-benefits - truly - it just kinda happened.

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! Reader, hate sex, ex-friends-with-benefits, slight angst, he’s still in love with you,  unprotected sex, jealous sex (from his side), choking, marking, pet names (my love, sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 1.5k

A/N. Ummmmmmmm yeah. Art by @_3eam on X.

He fucks you like he hates you.

“Shut the fuck up, you little slut.”

“Do it then. What? Scared he’ll do it bet-”

Cut off by a pathetic gurgle - his large hand around your throat. Ringed fingers tightening right above your pulse, the cold metal digging into your searing skin. 

Your vision is bleary, blood roaring in your ears as he leans down, muscled front against your back. His breath is hot against your face as he whispers lowly, “Running your mouth a bit too much, my love. You do the same with him as well?”

Shivers run down your spine - all the way to your cunt, pulsing and clenching furiously around his throbbing tip. Teasing your dripping entrance. Unmoving.

Your walls burn, struggling at the stretch of his thick head, yet still wanting the bastard to fucking move. Such a fucking tease. He was always like this - even back when you two were together, but that’s a story for another time.

Turning to glare at him over your shoulder, “So what if I do? Who are you to tell me what to do?”

You’re either an idiot or a mastermind. 

Maybe both. Because you feel his achingly hard cock twitch animalistically inside you, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across those kiss-bitten lips you knew too well. You hated how much you wanted them on yours right now. 

“You’re right. I’m not anyone to you.” he murmurs venomously, swiftly capturing the tender skin of your exposed neck, sharp teeth digging into you. Branding you. 

You keen, hips bucking uselessly against his bruising grip on your hips as he pulls away. God, you felt so used - and it made your walls flutter around him so desperately. 

Two long fingers reach up to squeeze your cheeks together mockingly into a pathetic pout, forcing you to look at him. “But I’m gonna ruin you for everyone. Including that little prick you’ve tried to replace me with.”

Your eyes flutter open in shock - you didn’t even realize they were scrunched up - getting lost in the ones boring into yours, half-lidded and pupils blown ferally. Electricity jolts through your body at the pure lust and rage whirling in his intense gaze. 

You two were going to be the deaths of each other.

You two were always going to end up like this.

You’ve barely even finished the thought before his flushed tip is kissing your cervix so painfully good. 

“Hah- Oh, fuck. Fuck you.” Eyes rolling to the back of your head as he sheaths himself completely in you. A low hiss leaves his swollen lips as he pulls out agonizingly slow, inch by inch, prominent veins dragging along your g-spot. 

“Fuck, you sure you hate me? Because this pussy seems like she can’t get enough of me, hm?”

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue is cut off by his rock-hard cock bullying its way back into your snug cunt. He fucks you animalistically, heavy balls stinging your pussy as his cock rams in and out of your hole over and over at a relentless pace. 

Strangled mewls of ah! ah! ah! leave your swollen lips as large fingers presses tight circles into your clit at a merciless rhythm matching the cadence of his hips. 

You mindlessly writhe against him, you felt so full - so split open on his cock. It was too much to handle. He was always too much to take. 

“Now now, don’t hah- run away from me, my love. If you’re going to act like such a fucking slut then take it like one.” he purrs, lip curling into a smug smirk that you wanted to smack off his pretty face. You couldn’t stand him - but you couldn’t get enough of him either.

“I’m not the hah- o-one that runs away. And- hngh- I’m not your ‘love’” you grit, because God forbid you go down without a fight - even when you’re falling apart completely under him.

What else could he have even expected? You always did see through him.

God, did he love that bitchy mouth of yours. 

Huffing out a surprised laugh, he wraps a strong arm around your waist pulling you deeper onto his throbbing cock - grip hard enough that he knows you’ll have marks to remember him by. Not like he planned on letting you ever forget him in the first place.

“You always did know how to push my buttons, huh, my love?” 

“Could say the same for you, sweetheart.”

Fuck that stupid fucking petname. How is it that even after years of not hearing it, his heart still lurches the same as it falls out of your mouth? That annoying, nagging part of his brain wonders if you call him the same thing.

And maybe you could read minds - he wouldn’t be surprised - because you open those pretty lips to say “Though, you’re not my sweetheart anymore, huh?”

Unexplainable anger seethes under his skin in a way that makes him want to claw it off. 

“Fuck you.” he hisses, turning your face so his mouth clashes with yours. It’s all bruising urgency and teeth clashing at the breathless dance of your tongues. 

His cock speeds up it’s abuse on your cunt, fucking you with impatient, harsh thrusts that have his leaking tip kissing your cervix. Had it not been for his firm hand around your throat, you were sure you’d have been slammed into the headboard creaking in protest.

“You drive me fucking insane. Fuck you.”

He hates the whines of his name falling from your kiss-bitten lips, and how it’s his favorite song.

He hates the tears clinging to your lashes in a way that makes him want to burn down anything that made you cry. Including himself.

He hates the way your cunt clamps down on him as if it hurts to part - he wishes you felt the same.

He hates the way he can’t let you go.

You were perfect, so perfect. Too perfect for him. He was probably better for you - all stability and reassurance where he is nothing but a whirlwind of change. 

In one, fluid move, he’s pulled out of the snug heaven of your dripping cunt - flipping you onto your back to stare into those beautiful eyes that haunt him every night. 

"Let's forget everything else, if just for tonight."

And with those words, he’s back inside you again, ramming into you with purpose. Though his thrusts are as unforgiving as ever, something about the air feels charged with something different. A rawness that both of you would have shied away from. 

“Th-this doesn’t hngh- fix us, y’know.”

“I know, my love.”

His low words muffled as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, kissing the bite mark with a tenderness that doesn’t translate into his hips. And you can’t overthink it - because your head is only filled with him and the way your cunt is milking his thick cock so good. 

And later you’ll probably blame your foggy thoughts for the reason why your hands subconsciously wrap around his muscled shoulders, pulling him so impossibly close until you can feel his heartbeat thundering under your touch - in sync with your own. One. Two. Three.

“Ah! Shit. Doing so good, cunt made jus’ f’me. You’re made jus’ f’me.” choked moans leave his throat as he pulls away ever-so-slightly to look into your fucked out eyes. 

“Perfect f’me, my love.”

Maybe at his words - or maybe at his predatory, blown-out gaze - you buck your hips to desperately meet his. Breathless moans of his name leaving your bruised lips.

With a final, purposeful thrust of his cock, he pulls you once more into a familiar, searing kiss that sends you both over the edge. You see stars as you cum, mind barely registering the thick ropes of his seed that fill your quivering cunt.

A low groan leaves him as his cum forms a thick, white ring around his base, dripping down your legs and onto the bedsheets that he knew were your favorite. It was feral - and at least for this moment, it made him feel like yours. 

Some carnal part of him keeps bucking his hips into you as if on instinct, letting you ride out your highs together. Fucking his cum deeper and deeper the way he would as lovers, his strong arms wrapped around you to keep you from moving away. But he didn’t have to, because right now you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Keeping you close. As if he never wanted to let go - both of your bodies a mindless whisper of what your minds craved. 

A delicate intimacy that only your bodies could bring rings in the sex-filled air. And when he finally stops, body collapsing onto yours - he whispers a secret. Meant for only the two of you in this quiet world.

“Fuck me like you still love me.”

Because by God was he in love with you.

- Gojo, TOJI, SUGURU, Atsumu, SUNA, Tsukishima, SAKUSA, EREN

A/N. Maybe I’ll do some fluff next week to make up for this…

Plagiarism not authorized.

[suguann]

There comes a point where Simon finally admits that he hates your new boyfriend—not that he’s liked any of your past relationships over the years, but this one he’s more vocal about—with a name not worth remembering. Matt? Martin?

He’d stopped trying after his first week back from work.

“I don’t fucking trust him,” he says one night while at the pub right under your apartment; it’s become a weekly ritual of sorts when he’s on leave ever since meeting you there on Soap’s birthday several years back. 

“You say that about every guy I have you meet,” you tell him in that know-it-all voice that you always use with him. “You hardly even know him, and his name’s Marcus, by the way. It wouldn’t kill you to use it.”

He snorts. “Love, the bloke would put his cock in anyone with tits and a warm cunt.”

“He wouldn’t,” your voice is soft because maybe you already know.

He would.

You’re so fucking oblivious that you don’t even realize this, but there’s nothing except stars in your eyes whenever you look at (or even talk about) the Naval officer who thinks he’s some bigshot because he can fly a plane. 

Even now, at your boyfriend’s promotion after-party in some back alley nightclub, he’s hardly talked to you or offered to get you a drink. You’re always too nervous to order one by yourself, and only Simon—tall and imposing standing beside you—could have the grumpiest bartender reach for the blender to make a blended cocktail. 

When he comes back with your drink—too big fingers unfolding the tiny umbrella for you—he watches your boyfriend (Marcus) flirt with a girl in a tight leather dress on the other side of the room. It’s that moment that he decides he’s tired of you giving your attention to someone who doesn’t deserve it, tired of you lying belly up for men who only want to sink their teeth into you and leave once they’ve had their fill. 

He likes to think he’s a pretty good friend—opening your eyes to something better is a job he takes rather seriously.

“It’s just a bit of fun,” he says after coming back with your third margarita, a small amount of frothy liquid sloshing over the side when he sets it down in front of you. “It’s okay to want it.”

You bite your lip, eyes dropping down to where he’s patting his thigh. “Just fun?”

“Yes, love.” He smiles. “Just fun.”

Let me.

Whether you’re tipsier than he thought or he’s just really persuasive, it’s easy to get you crawling into his lap in the corner of the cracked leather booth. His hands wander the span of your smooth thighs where your short skirt doesn’t reach, and he muffles a groan in your shoulder when you start squirming against the tent in his jeans.

You say his name like a warning when his hands find their way under your skirt, yet you’re biting back a moan and don’t tell him to stop.

Simon undoes his jeans and shifts them down before pushing up the back of your skirt and adjusting your hips to watch the tip of his dick slide between the covered cleft of your ass. Nobody in the room can see what the both of you are doing with your skirt fanning around his lap, but someone could if they were truly looking, and that has him tugging your panties to the side so he can feel you.

"Your boyfriend is too stupid to realize you're sitting here riding my lap. What do you think he'd say if he saw you like this?"

 “W-wait, Simon!” you squeak. “What if he sees—”

He’s almost tempted to roll his eyes at your blind devotion—I’ll deal with it—dealing with it would be him making sure the prick never tries talking to you again.

Then, his fingers, like iron at your hips, jerk you back to impale you on his cock. "Fuck," he says, voice trembling around the edges.

“O-oh! It’s too—ah—too big!”

He wraps a hand around the slender slope of your throat, fingers digging into vulnerable flesh as he pulls you back until his lips are at your ear, nose pressing into the soft skin of your cheek. “Come on, love. I know you can take the whole thing. Right inside this tight cunt.”

Simon thrusts into you shallowly, just the tip going in and out, and you whine, little fingers scrabbling at his wrist—gasping and shivering and bucking in the trap of his arms.

A smirk curls at the edges of his mouth when he finally bottoms out in your hot-wet cunt for your boyfriend to see from the other side of the room. He'd laugh at how his jaw drops, but he can only manage little choked intakes of air at the feel of you wrapped so tightly around him.

“Squeeze my cock for me—fuck, there you go.” He presses a kiss below your ear and reaches down to pet your soaked clit with his thumb. Feels the moment you realize that your boyfriend is watching when you tense up.

“I’ll deal with it,” he says again and again until you’re melting into him, thighs trembling around his. “Promise. I promise…”

I apologize if you see this again! I was trying to edit it, and it wouldn't format right with the gif. You can find part two here.

masterlist

[slasher-fxcker]

Slashers S/O falling asleep on them

A/N: Just a quick little drabble of me fantasizing about our favourite slashers. I am still working through requests so please don't think I am ignoring you guys! They are coming :)

Billy Loomis

· Billy isn’t sure how to react at first, if you are around people sorry but he’s not going to tarnish his reputation with these soft moments. But if you're alone he will be conflicted.

· He’s not used to soft moments and he likes to be in control of any affection. He tries to keep it light like hand holding or sexual to try and keep you at a distance. So, this makes him sort of short circuit.

· Once he decides to allow it, it takes him a while but he does eventually relax into the embrace. He hates to admit that it is comforting, you make him feel secure and that worries him.

· He probably won’t sit for too long and may move eventually, he won’t disturb you but will leave you on the couch to rest.

Bo Sinclair

· Bo will never ever admit to this but he loves your soft affection, even if it’s only when you're asleep that he embraces it. He will pull you closer to him and wrap his arm around you. It’s the time he will let his guard down and let himself truly feel.

· If his brothers walk in he’s going to act like it’s a hassle, but even they know he doesn’t really mean it. Will also probably whine at you about it later.

· Bo loves you but he won’t admit that yet, even if you question it sometimes just know that you don’t get to see the way he looks at you like you're his world, or how your cute sleepy expression grips his heart. It’s these times where he thinks maybe he should be nicer to you, it’s now when he realises that he needs you even if he’s not ready to admit that.

Jason Voorhees

· Jason will not move a muscle if you fall asleep on him, you may as well be leaning on a comfier version of a statue. He wouldn’t do anything to wake you up.

· Barely breathes in fear or disturbing you. This man adores you and if you need sleep you're going to get it.

· If there are any trespassers he is going to be even more brutal than usual, how dare they disturb this intimate moment with his loved one. He lays you down as gently as he can, lucky you're a heavy sleeper.

· Jason will make quick work of the trespassers so he can get back to you, sure you may wake up with some leftover blood on you but it’s all worth it in the end to be in Jason’s arms.

Jesse Cromeans

· Jesse gets a small smirk on his face when he realises you’ve fallen asleep in his lap while he’s completing some paperwork. He will hold you while he works, occasionally stroking your hair and placing his chin on your head.

· You seem so small buried into his chest, it reminds Jesse how delicate you are and how protective he is of you to keep you here with him.

· Jesse is a busy man so its highly likely that he will end up having some sort of work that pulls him away from this intimate moment. He will carry you with ease to your bed and cover you in blankets to keep you warm until he can return.

· Won’t leave without placing the gentlest of kisses to your forehead and watching you snuggle in.

Lester Sinclair

· Lester is a busy man, he loves your affections but try to catch him when it won’t interfere with his day or piss Bo off. He will put your affections first and that can often get him in trouble with his brother.

· This man is the cutest cuddle bug, he will hold you for as long as you want. Will wrap you up in his arms and put a movie on, he is definitely the most chill out of the slashers when it comes to this kind of affection.

· Expect him to occasionally cover your face in soft kisses, the small smile it puts on your face gives him the cheesiest grin. Part of him wants you to hurry up and wake up so he can give you more affection, but don’t worry he wouldn’t dream of waking you.

· Lester cherishes you and when you wake up still in his arms expect to give him all of your attention for a while.

Michael Myers

· Do you like sleeping on the floor? Because that’s where you will end up if you fall asleep on Michael when he’s not in a very good mood. He’s an asshole. He does love you, but you don’t get to be affectionate without his approval when he’s in this kind of mood.

· If you catch him on a good day he will simply let you rest against him, most likely sitting still and watching you sleep.

· He thinks you're naïve to trust him when you're in such a vulnerable state, how he could hurt you at any moment. He likes to pretend that he could but you both know he would never do anything to hurt you. Not now that he had let you in.

· If you wake up to his head resting against yours as you both find comfort in the slight affection he will jump up and storm off as soon as he notices you're awake. Don’t bring it up unless you want him to pout for a while or threateningly glare at you from across the room. He will pretend it never happened.

Stu Macher

· Stu had always been a night owl, and it didn’t help he spent a lot of his nights out with Billy.

· You would wait up for him a lot at his place, flicking through the channels of the tv and waiting for that familiar click of the front door. He would instantly come and join you, arms open and waiting. He always missed touching and holding you.

· Would probably ramble on and not realise you were sleeping until he notices you aren’t answering him anymore. The cheesy smile this boy gets when he realises you're asleep.

· He will probably just watch you for a while, moving the hair out of your face.

· Stu is the type of guy to draw on people’s faces while they sleep, but with you he will just gently trace your features or draw small love hearts with his finger, laughing quietly to himself as your nose crinkles at the feeling.

· He wouldn’t move you, he loves holding you in his arms, keeping you close to him. Will for sure tease you about it later though.

Thomas Hewitt

· Thomas just melts when he feels your head rest against him. He knows how tiring it can be working in the heat, so he will let you rest for as long as you need to.

· He will blush if anyone else sees the two of you, but he’s still not moving.

· Thomas could hold you like this forever, but he worries that the couch isn’t the comfiest place to spend the night so he will carry you upstairs to your room, this man just wants what is best for you. He tries his best to be as gentle as possible when he lays you down, not wanting to wake you.

· He stands up to leave but notices you clinging to his shirt, the crinkle in your brow showing you're clearly not happy with the loss of contact. He lets out a husky huff before climbing into bed next to you, he melts under your touch and the thought that even in your sleep you need his touch.

Vincent Sinclair

· He stills immediately when he feels the contact. Vincent loves you so much but he’s not sure he will ever get used to the physical affections.

· When he realises you’ve fallen asleep on him his heart swells. You better believe this boy will not move an inch, your comfort is his entire priority. He will be dead still until you wake up, would not dream of disturbing you.

· Will definitely watch you sleep, he feels like he needs to commit every single line of your face to memory. Not only will he want to sketch you later on but the fear of you leaving still weighs heavily on him and he needs to make sure he would remember every detail of you.

· It’s like you can feel him staring when you shuffle closer to him and mumble his name, he instantly melts. He pulls you closer, reassuring you that he’s still there. He’s not going anywhere, he will always be there.

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆

W.C › 5.6k

Warnings › Chapter 1. Male omegas have a bit of a strange anatomy. Tried to explain it well. In any case, male omegas have pussies.

Plot › You go through a Pseudo heat and learn more about what your parents truly did to your body

Kinks › use of pussy, dirty talk, cumming untouched

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟮:

𝘾𝙞𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙨 & 𝘼𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙤𝙩𝙨

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

❝ お兄ちゃん、どうして私を守ってくれなかったの？ ❞

“Do they hate me?”

“Mhm? Who is they?”

“You know.”

“I don’t, (Name).”

“Yes you do. But mom actually likes you.”

“This again?”

“Yukina is gone. Now I’m her target. Why can’t you see that?”

“It’s nonsense, that’s why. No mother could ever hate her child. No parent would ever hate their children. Familial love is one that can’t be replaced.”

“…Naoki would understand. But you… you…”

“Naoki? Seriously? Have you taken your suppressants?”

“Naoki says I shouldn’t take it! No one else takes it. You don’t even take it. My scent is sweet, it’s not sour like yours. It’s fine—”

“(Name), think for a moment. You being an omega is already enough on the family. Would it hurt you to just try and make our parents proud? Can’t you just do this one thing for them? For us?”

❝ なぜですか？苦しいよ、直樹。❞

“Will he be okay? Has he even gone through a heat before? Is he a late bloomer?”

Miya sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she glanced over at Watanabe. You were barricaded in your bedroom—the smell of heat spilling in from underneath the door. Watanabe was by the kitchen, his hands grasped tightly at the wooden chair Miya usually used when she wanted to cook without standing.

She could already see the chipped wood forming beneath his palms. The sound of the wood breaking slowly.

She’d complain about that another time. It was a shock Watanabe was even lucid enough to not bust the door down and mate you. This sight of Watanabe was interesting. His cool bad boy facade was long gone, replaced by an anxious alpha.

You’d think Watanabe had mated you ages ago.

“Mhm. I don’t know. He’s never had a heat before because of…” Her voice trailed off, her lips pursing together. Did he know? Would it be safe to tell him? Would you even want her to tell him?

“Because of?” Watanabe muttered, finally looking over at Miya. She could see his eyes were blown, unfocused. They looked to be struggling to not narrow in at your bedroom door.

Miya didn’t know why she hasn’t kicked him out yet. The whole journey here she wanted to get you away from him. But she could tell just from his soured scent that he wasn’t focused on fucking you. He was genuinely scared right now.

“He presented late, that’s all.” It wasn’t a total lie.

A strangled moan left your bedroom and Miya could see in seconds Watanabe’s gaze zero in on your door. His grip tightened on the chair and she heard the wood crack. Slowly his palms bleed red as he grit his teeth, closing his eyes as he began to whisper something to himself.

Miya inched over to the door, ready to defend your safety if need be. She didn’t care that she only reached his chest, stomach really. She’d fight to the death for you if she had to.

A knock on the door caught her attention. “Huh? Who…?”

“My mom.” Watanabe suddenly whispered, moving his hand away from the chair. The chair was totally destroyed, coated in his blood. His hands had pricks and splinters as he plucked out the large ones and dropped them by the trash as he stiffly walks to the front door.

“When did you even call your mom?” Miya asked, wondering what his mother could possibly do in a situation like this.

“Texted.” He bluntly said, pulling the front door open.

A chubby woman with greying brown hair pulled into a neat bun was shown, dressed in a nurse garment. Ah, that’s why. Her lips were pursed as she narrowed at Watanabe’s bleeding hands. She pulled out a first aid kit from her bag and stepped inside, handing it over to Watanabe.

Ms. Watanabe glanced around the room before sniffing the air, a frown pulling on her lips as she noticed Miya by the door. “Ah, are you Tanaka’s alpha?” She asked, walking over to Miya.

Miya hummed, needing to get used to the title. “Ah.. Yes. Furukawa Miya.”

“Watanabe Hitomi. I’m a doctor that specializes in omegas healthcare. Ah, ignore the nurse garments, today was my day off, I just put whatever on.” She laughed to herself, smiling brightly.

“Mhm. Then… can you check on (Name)? He’s never had a heat before.”

“Yes, of course. I just wanted to make sure I had permission.”

“Permission?”

“Yes. Alphas are so territorial! Even with betas like me,” she giggled. “Riki, you haven’t mated Tanaka yet, yes?”

Watanabe only grunted, busy bandaging his hands.

“I’ll be back, Furukawa-San.”

Miya bowed her head. “Thank you, Watanabe-San.”

“Ah, call me Hitomi. I have a feeling we’ll be like family soon.” Hitomi grinned, opening the bedroom door and stepping inside.

Hitomi couldn’t help her gasp as she slammed the door behind herself quickly, hoping none of your scent had slipped out. She pulled out a small packet of pills and a water bottle as she stepped over to your bed.

And there you were, nude burying your face into a sweater that was seeped in Miya’s citrus scent. You whined at the sight of Hitomi, too horny to care about your nudity. Hitomi’s beta scent was refreshing. Minty like any other beta. But it was nice. Miya’s scent was doing nothing for you.

But there was something in Hitomi’s scent that caught your attention, no matter how fuzzy it was.

Ume?

Riki? Does she know him? Mhm, Ume…

“Tanaka-San, I’m sorry this is how we meet. I’m Watanabe Hitomi, Riki’s mother. He wanted me to check on you because it’s your first ever heat, yes?”

You only whined at the mention of Riki’s name. Why wasn’t he here with you right now? Did he not want you? Were you not enough?

A cool hand against your neck caused you to flinch, your eyes opening again to look at Hitomi. She smiled softly, sitting down on the bed as she rest the water bottle on the night stand.

“It’s okay, Omega. Breathe. Your Alpha loves you.” She whispered, her voice motherly. “But he can’t be here. It’s your first ever heat, it’s a dangerous time for you, Pup. He could accidentally hurt you.”

You whined, feeling your fist tighten their grip on Miya’s sweater. Hurt you? Riki would never. He could never hurt you. Just what was this lady talking about?

Hitomi chuckled. “Well you can growl so I don’t need to check that.”

Growl? You didn’t even notice you were making any noise beside whimpering.

“I have something to help with the pain, Pup. It’s a heat suppressant. Have you taken any other suppressants? One that wasn’t only for heats?”

Shame creeped up on you as you looked away, biting your lip. Hitomi watched as you slowly nod. She didn’t say anything for a moment—as if waiting for you to elaborate. You slowly reached over and pulled open your night stand’s drawer.

“Is it in here?” She asked, looking over as she reached inside and pulled out the empty packets. You watched as her calm eyes began to widen in horror as she read the name. “…L…Limited X…?! Tanaka-San, are you serious?!”

She calmed down when you responded with a whimper, curling up into yourself further in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Pup. I didn’t mean to yell at you.” Hitomi leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. You couldn’t help but purr.

Doctors aren’t supposed to be this loving but you would ignore it in the fact she was your alpha’s mother. Wasn’t she practically your mother now?

“Miya said you were a late bloomer… Was that a lie? Did you present?” She took your whine as a yes. “When did you start taking Limited X?”

A grunt left your throat as you parted your lips, “…nine…”

“Nine…? When.. When did you present?!”

“Nine…”

Hitomi pulled away. You saw from the corner of your eye her panicked expression as she whispered something herself. Was it that bad? Your situation couldn’t have been that rare. She let out a sigh before turning back over to you, a small smile on her lips.

“Your parents are awful, Pup. But it’s okay now. I got you.” She whispered, her voice shaky as she reached over and gently brushed your cheek. Her hand trailed down to your neck as she touched your scent gland. A broken gasp left her lips at the tough skin her fingers grazed.

“Mhm..?” You whined

“Your scent gland isn’t even…” Her look of surprise was soon replaced with fury. Her jaw tightened as she shook her head, patting your back as she stood up. “I’m sorry, Pup. I can’t let you take the suppressants. You need to let the heat run its course. Is there anything you want before I go? I’ll come back to visit you in a day or two.”

“Riki… I want Riki…”

“I’m sorry, but he can’t spend it with you. It’s for your safety, baby.”

“Please… Please… Want him…”

Hitomi pursed her lips as she glanced over at the door. “Okay. For a minute.” She left the room, leaving you alone. Your hand found the fluidity to toss Miya’s sweater across the room, wanting the citrus scent far away from your nose.

Your eyes fluttered open when you felt a cool hand gently touch your cheek. You hadn’t even realized you had fallen asleep. A low purr left your throat when your eyes met Riki’s. There he was.

Well, he was a bit far from you.

You hum and raise an eyebrow, reaching over to grab his hand and pull him closer. But he quickly resisted, pulling his hand away. The sound that leaves you is almost like that of a kicked puppy as you look at him in shock.

The words are on the tip of your tongue but you were too far gone in your heat to speak now.

“Sorry… Sorry, I can’t get too close. It’s hard enough being here.” Riki muttered, his eyes looking at everything but you. You noticed his tense posture, back straight entirely with his fists clenched at his sides. The bandages wrapped around his fists catch your attention as you whimper, wondering how he got hurt in such a short amount of time.

Did Miya fight him??? Oh god, you hoped that they would get close not fight.

A strangled grunt leaving Riki’s chest made you look up at him, seeing his jaw set tight. Was your scent affecting him this badly?

“Ah, (Name), I can’t stay in here much longer.” Riki groaned, reaching down and pulling off his shirt. Your eyes widen as your legs clamp together, an eager smirk pulling on your lips. Neither can you, you felt as if you would burst if he just continued to stand there.

But whatever you thought was going to happened was ignored when he tossed the shirt at your face. Any disappointment was drowned out when you sniffed the shirt, sighing in relief at having the Japanese apricots fill your nostrils.

“Why didn’t she tell me you were naked….”

Your eyes peek open to see Riki moving away, the sound of his pants falling onto the ground causing you to purr in appreciation at the sight of his ass. He also tossed his pants at you. It hit your square in the face but you didn’t care, eager to just bury your nose in his scent.

“Riki…” You mewled, slick coating the bedsheets beneath you.

“Shh. If you say my name again I’ll cum.” He said bluntly, his hand gripping at his boxers before pulling them off. You couldn’t help the slight squeal that left you as he tossed the boxers to you. You forgot all about his pants and shirt as you bit at his boxers, purring at the fabric in your hands.

Ah, it was right against his cock.

You thought he was now coming to join you in bed but you whined as you watched him slip on some clothes. What?! What the fuck?! He changed into a plain old t-shirt and sweatpants. Where did he even get that?!

You felt like throwing a tantrum.

Here you were, pliant, soaking wet, practically begging for him. And he was only nice enough to give you his boxers?!

Riki finally turned around, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Don’t give me those eyes. I’m following my mom’s instructions. I’ll visit you again tomorrow.” He walked over to you with his fingers pinching his nose. A slight giggle left your lips at the sight as he leaned down and pressed a kiss on your lips before quickly pulling away and sprinting to the door.

“Bye!” He yelled, closing the door behind him.

He was lucky he’s cute…

You glanced down at the boxers still in your hand and sighed. This will have to do for tonight.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Aren’t they cute?”

You kneel down, peering into the small pond. The koi fish swirl around each other as you poke your finger in the water. They disburse away from your small ripple, finding safety near the other side. A slight giggle leaves your lips.

“They’re funny.”

“Funny? Mhm, I don’t know. I think you’re more funny looking.”

A gasp leaves you as you turn over to face Naoki, pouting at the laugher that begins to escape him. He falls back onto his butt while you cross your arms together and fane a look of disappointment at his teasing.

“Meanie. The girls at my school say I’m cute. And that I smell sweet!”

“Do they? What did you bribe them with?”

“B..Bri…be..? What does that mean?”

Naoki only chuckled, reaching over to pull you close with him on the grass. “Ask your teacher. But you do smell sweet, (Name). My little pudding.”

“Well…! You smell like vanilla!”

“Vanilla? That’s too sweet for an alpha like me.”

“Don’t care. You’re sweet. Sweet alphas are better than smelly alphas like Daichi.”

“Really? Then I hope you get with an alpha with the sweetest scent there is.”

“Ew! I don’t like alphas. Only you and Miya. Yuck!”

Naoki laughed. You couldn’t remember his face. It hurt so much to only remember his heart shaped smile. Why couldn’t you remember his eyes? His nose? The only person to love you and you can’t even remember him properly?

“(Name), c’mon, drink this!”

A groan left your throat as your eyes open, staring up at the ceiling. You looked to your left and saw Miya holding a glass of water. She smiled and reached down, wiping at your face before helping you sit up.

“Did you sleep well? You had a big smile on your face before I woke you up.” She asked, sitting down on the bed. You hummed absentmindedly, eager to quench your thirst.

“How long has it been?”

“A week.”

“Week?! Heats only last three days…”

“Yeah will you haven’t exactly gone through a heat before. Anyway, Hitomi-San came to visit you everyday to make sure you didn’t die.”

“Die?!”

Miya hummed. “You were sometimes so cold during the night or really hot. She would sometimes stay the night to make sure you didn’t stop breathing too.”

“Crap… I don’t remember anything that happened…”

“Well you didn’t do anything embarrassing if you’re worried about that.” Miya said, taking the empty glass from you. Her lip slightly twitched as she smirked. “Ah, wait, no that’s not true… you did embarrass yourself when Watanabe came.”

You froze, looking over at Miya with a look of fear. Miya smirked and began to laugh, enjoying your panicked expression.

“What?! What did I do?”

“It was so funny… Hitomi-San was cleaning the slick off your body when Watanabe came into the room to give you fresh clothes with his scent. You practically shoved Hitomi-San off the bed to launch yourself at Watanabe. I should’ve recorded it!!”

“Is Hitomi-San okay?!”

“Yeah, she’s fine. Watanabe wasn’t, you made him fall and knock his head against your desk! Then you started crying as if you killed him because he was knocked out for a second. Anyway he had to get stitches on the back of his head.”

You stared at Miya with your mouth agape, physically imagining the event in your head. You were so glad you couldn’t remember anything. It was already bringing you shame and embarrassment at the fact you literally attacked Riki just cause of your stupid heat.

Not to mention shoving away the woman who was helping you live… Gosh, you wanted to curl up and die.

Miya had finally stopped laughing and pulled out her phone, showing you a picture she must’ve took of that night. Sure enough, there you are, naked as the day you were born. Luckily enough Miya had cropped it to where it was only the upper half of your body.

You were straddling Riki, holding his face in your hands as you looked to be in a mid cry. There was a small amount of blood on the floor from what you could tell so he really did get hurt. Miya swiped, showing a short video that was Riki waking up, looking absolutely disoriented before narrowing in on you. Immediately a blush appeared on his face and he practically bucked you off of him.

Your cries were heard in the background as you were flung off camera. Video Miya yelled something about being careful while Hitomi had moved over to you. Riki moved to stood up but soon collapsed back onto the ground, earning a shrill scream from what you could only assume was yourself. The video soon ended with Miya accidentally turning the camera on your bare butt as you once again shoved Hitomi away to get to Riki.

That was…

“Oh my god.” You whispered, wanting to end it all right then and there while Miya laughed her ass off.

“I’ve never seen you act so animal like!” Miya laughed, wiping away the stray tears from her face. “It was nice. Felt like the first time you were truly yourself. Even if it was while you were butt naked, dripping slick all over the carpet.”

“Miya!!”

“What? It’s a normal bodily function. Don’t get embarrassed.” She patted you on the back and stood up, stretching. “Anyway, Hitomi-San and Watanabe will be here in a few hours. Take a shower… a long one.”

With that, she left your room, leaving it open as Ume sprinted inside. Ume purred as she jumped onto your bed and immediately got comfortable, curling into herself. You couldn’t help but smile, knowing Ume must’ve been upset to not have access to your room for such a long time.

She hated closed doors. Ume practically owned the place.

You rubbed at your neck, groaning as you stretched your sore body. Your body sputtered for a moment as your fingers gently rubbed against the lower center of your neck. It… was a bit softer?

It was still sold and rough but there was a slight softness that wasn’t there before.

It wasn’t too late for you…?

You could be mated?

You’d have to ask Hitomi. But you couldn’t help the slight giddy smile on your lips. You could be Riki’s if it really was softening… A slight glob of slick soaked the bedsheets beneath you. You groaned, rolling your eyes. This was going to have to take some getting used to.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Miya fiddled with her phone, her eyes flickering around as she closed the apartment door behind her. Her phone began to ring—startling her out of her thoughts as she quickly answered it without looking at the caller ID.

“Hey. How are things there?” She whispered, walking to lean over the railing. Her dyed purple hair was pulled back into a small ponytail as the wind blew her bangs upward.

The voice on the other line as hushed and quiet.

“Terrible. He’s back.”

“Which one?”

“Obviously the eldest. He had a wedding ring on his finger. I think he’s married now.”

“Married…? He didn’t tell (Name)? Does he even have a mating mark?”

“That type of alpha would never let anyone mark him. Anyway, he talked to me as if we’re friends. The nerve.”

“Shit. Did he say anything weird?”

“Besides the fact he was not so subtly making fun of me for still living at mom’s place, no. He did insult me being a mangaka, I don’t remember telling him that. Did (Name) tell him?”

“Really, Yuzuru? (Name) doesn’t even talk to his mom unless she calls. He’s not talking to Daichi.”

“Watch your mouth. I’m still the oldest, little shit. I don’t have to do this spying shit for you.”

“Then say goodbye to your precious beta reader!”

“Wait! Sorry, sorry. Anyway, I still haven’t seen Naoki. I… huh?”

“Mhm? What’s wrong?”

“Uh… Daichi just came back with a woman… an omega I think.”

“Omega? No way in hell… those alpha elitist would never mate with an omega…” Miya waited for her brother to continue speaking but she soon heard the sound of a woman talking before the phone abruptly cut off.

She cursed, ready to call Yuzuru back when she saw Hitomi and Watanabe walk up the stairs to the complex. She’d have to call him back later. With a huff, she put her phone away and grinned, waving at Hitomi.

Hitomi smiled, her eyes closing into crescent moons. “Morning, Miya-Chan! I brought breakfast for you and Tanaka. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, I did! (Name)-Kun is doing great thanks to your help. He just woke up a few minutes ago.” Miya reached over and took the plastic bag away from Hitomi, opening the apartment door to let them inside. She rolled her eyes at Watanabe’s lack of greeting.

She could tell he was fidgety. His eyes quickly narrowing in on your bedroom door, practically waiting for you to come out so he could see if you were truly okay.

Hitomi pulled out a MedKit from her bag, going straight to your room. She didn’t knock, just pushed the door open before shutting it behind her.

Just your luck, you were putting on your underwear when she came in. You shrieked, reaching to cover your nude body from her eyes.

“Calm down, Pup. I’ve seen everything by now.” She said honestly, resting the MedKit on your nightstand as she pulled out what looked to be a thermometer and some pills. “Come here once you’re dressed.”

You slipped on a baggy t-shirt and shorts, wondering if you should bring up the whole… shoving incident. “Uhm… If… uh.. there.. was anything weird I did… while… y’know… in heat… I uhm…”

Hitomi glanced over at you. “You mean giving my son a concussion and having him bleed out on the floor?”

Your breathing halted, your eyes widening at her words. Well when she puts it that way…

Her gaze was harsh on you before a gummy smile pulled on her lips. “It’s okay, Pup. You aren’t the craziest patient I’ve had to dealt with. You were tame. Now c’mere.”

You walked over to where she was by your desk and watched as she held up the thermometer, motioning for you to pry your lips apart.

“Besides,” she said, slipping the thermometer into your mouth. “You look cute while crying. You cared so much for my Riki. I think if Miya hadn’t held you back, you would’ve followed us to the hospital.”

“Followed…?” You muttered, taking the thermometer out of your mouth to once it beeped. Hitomi took it from you and hummed. A good temperature you’d assume.

“Yes. You wouldn’t even let me touch Riki at first. Took Riki waking back up and telling you to calm down for you to finally release him.”

“I didn’t know omegas could be… territorial.”

“Everyone is territorial. Especially for someone they love. Omegas can be scary when they want to. You almost bit me.” Hitomi said nonchalantly.

“Bit?!”

“It’s fine. Like I said, you were like a kitten compared to other patients I’ve had.” She opened the bottle of pills and poured out two capsules, handing them over to you. “You seem fine. But you didn’t go through a full heat. It was just a pre-heat. Your full heat will be in two months.”

“Only a pre-heat…? But it was intense.”

“Mhm. It was. Your body was only getting you ready. You are severely underdeveloped,” she said, her tone turning serious. “I advise you to not have any penetrative sex until your hole… has grown.”

“Grown?”

“Yes. I checked it. It’s too small for an omega. Your cock should also become small as well.”

“What? Wait? I thought male omegas could have dicks?”

“Who told you that? Male omegas are born with dicks but they lose them during their first heat. Then a vagina begins to form and your dick will become a clit. Your hole is there, just too small to be called a vagina at the moment.”

“You weren’t talking about my butt hole..?”

“No.” Hitomi frowned. “Did no one teach you about male omegas? I know they’re rare but they should still teach you all about these things. You need to know your body…” Her lips pursed as if she was in thought before looking over at the door.

You glanced over, wondering if she saw something.

“Ah. Have Riki show you where your hole is. I’m sure you don’t want me touching it.” She said, putting away her materials. “You can also have him help you stretch it. It’ll help with the process.”

“S..Stretch it..?”

“Yes. Finger you. You can always finger yourself but at least let him show you where it is.” With that, she grabbed her MedKit and left the room, leaving you standing there with your mouth agape.

Vagina…? Clit...? Fingering?!

You felt lightheaded. All this time, your body was underdeveloped. Your genitalia was a lie this entire time! Your cock was going to turn into a fucking clit!!!

“(Name)? Your scent soured.”

Your body jumped as the door was harshly pushed up, a tense Riki standing in the doorway. His eyes roamed your body—looking for any damage before pausing at your face. He tilted his head, walking over to you as he began to sniff you.

“What? Did my mom tell you bad news?” He asked, his hand reaching up, as if to touch your face but he stopped himself and placed it on your desk. You couldn’t help the slight whimper at that.

“No… No bad news. Just that—well—I’ll be growing a vagina!”

“Huh? You already have one. I saw it when we were in the classroom.”

“Hah?! You saw it?!”

“Mhm. It’s so tiny, I was wondering why it looked like that but I’ve never been with a male omega before.” Riki said nonchalantly, his posture relaxing now that he realized there was nothing wrong. “You’ve never felt it?”

You blushed. “Well, I don’t really masturbate touching myself down there.. just my cock.”

Riki tilted his head as a smirk pulled on his lips. “Mhm? You’ll have to learn the other way soon, your little cock is turning into a clit.” He laughed.

The urge to punch him the face was strong. He felt just like the Riki you met at the sushi restaurant. It was going to take some getting used to with Riki’s personality. It was like he could switch between a sadist and timid puppy.

“Uhm. Your mom.. said that you could help.”

“Help? You want me to touch your pussy?”

Your cheeks flushed as you looked at everything but him. “Don’t call it that!”

“Why can’t I? Is it not a pussy?” Riki grinned as he moved closer, his nose teasing your neck as he leaned down. Your breathing hitched as you subconsciously tilted your head, giving him easy access to your scent gland. “I was sad that I’ll have to wait so long to properly fuck you…”

His hand grasped your crotch, earning a stuttered gasp from you as your body tensed. Your hand gripped the desk behind you for stability as he harshly fondled you. “But fingering you until you get a proper pussy sounds hot. I’ll be making a pussy just for me to touch. For me to fuck. For me to knot whenever I please.”

“Riki…” you gasped. The thought was already intoxicating. Any fear you had about this new body part growing was long gone at the thought of Riki truly molding you into something just for him. You were only disappointed that you’d have to wait so long to get what your body so desperately craves.

Only two month… You can last two months…

“Do you like that? The thought of your body changing itself just from my touch?” He whispered, his hand gripping your cock through your shorts. Your body arched against the desk as you feel your legs part to give Riki easier access.

“Nngh… That’ll… That’ll make me good for Alpha.” You manage to whine, looking up at him with watery eyes. Riki’s eyes widen before he chuckled, pressing a kiss on your neck.

“You’re already a good omega for me, (Name). But I won’t lie and say you getting a pretty pussy won’t make me happy. I can already imagine sinking my fingers inside, stretching you wide before I stuff you with my knot. Would you like that, Omega? My knot stretching you, ruining you for me and only me?”

A strangled cry left your throat as the thought clouded your mind and your hands gripped the desk, your toes curling. Your body felt as if it was spasming until you felt a growing wetness in your shorts.

Riki released your crotch as he glanced down, a laugh leaving his lips. “You came untouched. Did I excite you that much?”

“Shut up.” You weakly whine, wanting to curl up into a ball and die.

“Ahem.”

You and Riki’s body froze as there was a slight knock on the door. There stood Miya, her face unimpressed.

“We are still here, by the way. Maybe close the door if you’re going to start having sex.” She said, “Also there’s breakfast, (Name)… come get it after you take a shower… again.”

This was it. You were going to die of embarrassment.

Riki looked as if he’d seen a ghost. You could tell he must’ve realized his mother heard his dirty talking. Hopefully they didn’t hear everything…

“Uh… We can talk about the whole fingering thing later.” You whispered.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

In front of him, he stood tall, overpowering. His scent was musky—drowning out any other scent in the room. Brown eyes flickered around the living room before settling on a framed picture on the wall near the TV.

You, so young and cute, a wide smile while Miya hugged you tightly against her chest. It was an older picture, around the age of thirteen. Yuzuru was standing behind the both of you, aged eighteen, a small slight smile on his lips. His large circular glasses taking up half of his face.

Daichi looked over Yuzuru now, sitting on the couch across of him. Glasses long gone and smile replaced a tight frown. It was a shame, Daichi thought to himself. Yuzuru was supposedly an omega but looked nothing like it.

He took another look at Yuzuru, wondering how he gained so much weight. Yuzuru wasn’t the stick thin omega he was back in high school. He was fuller, his mother must be over feeding him.

Yuzuru kissed his teeth together, catching Daichi’s attention. “If you’re done scrutinizing me, why are you here?”

Mrs. Furukawa gently patted Yuzuru’s lap, giving him a tight smile. “What Yuzu was saying.. Is what made you want to visit us? It’s been forever.”

Daichi grinned, opening his coat and pulling out an envelope. “It’s nothing special.” He said. “Yuzuru is almost in his late twenties and my colleagues mentioned something about a blind date for omegas to find an alpha. I’m sure… it would be helpful for your case.”

A pin could be dropped as Yuzuru’s eyes widen, his lips parting as his fingers dug into the armchair of the couch. He looked ready to blow, jump across this stupid coffee table and show Daichi what he was made of. But his mother grabbed his arm as she grabbed the envelope from Daichi.

“Is that?” She asked, her voice devoid of any emotion.

“Ah. Yes… You have (Name)’s address, yes? I want to talk to him.”

“Why would I willingly give you his address?” Yuzuru muttered.

“Well… It’s been ages since I’ve seen my little brother.. I wanted to check up on him.”

“You can call him.” Yuzuru whispered.

Daichi hummed. “I guess I could. I suppose I wanted to get a better look at you, Yuzuru. Since you seem to be so interested in me these days.”

Yuzuru froze, looking away. He noticed? What the fuck?

With the tension tight and heavy, Daichi left without another word.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

You were gently drying your hair when you grabbed your phone off the night stand. There was texts and emails that you didn’t care too much about responding to except one from a number you didn’t recognize.

It was just a picture that they sent.

You clicked on the picture and felt the color drain from your face.

It wasn’t just one picture. It was two.

One picture of an ultrasound.

And another of a wedding.

Daichi and a woman you’ve seen before.

But she was an omega… Why would someone like Daichi marry her?

But that wasn’t the most important thing you cared about. No, you cared more about who she was. Who she was before supposedly becoming Daichi’s wife, his mate.

Naoki’s ex girlfriend.

Sorry for the wait! I just recently moved to my college dorms, forgot to write lol. Hopefully it won’t take too long for chapter 3, there will be actual smut in that one, trust.. ask to be added to the tag list for riki’s story. Some people don’t show up when I try to tag them tho, sorry about that :/ also there’s a limit smh

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @mello-life25 @tehyunnie @lanoslamp @sweetheart4you @chill-guy-but-cooler @ofclyde @remdayz @flurrina @smellwell @iwishtobeacrow @kiiyoooo @love-kha1 @star-3214 @rhetorical-conscience @mooncarvers-world @chososlittlestuttyboy @terapung @gay4letti @lixamplanet @oreoqueen @1account2blogs @hnazwan @blaxvoid @theorye @yanrandom @berrycolaa @darlinqvi @diamondnightsky23 @yourn0tmydad @https-tan-com @kiekole @cinder-angel @yuzuukix @sugar-p0p @anime-meme-sanctuary @caffineandoranges @barbatos-mybeloved @gaynesspersonified @sheepame @snowtiger00 @kgeyamaa @teoluvsyou @chweuphoria @sooobiinn @hope0o0 @yoon-zino @mef0rg0r @gojosdumpydump @me-when-life

Translations:

❝ お兄ちゃん、どうして私を守ってくれなかったの？ ❞ — brother, why didn’t you protect me?

❝ なぜですか？苦しいよ、直樹。❞ — why? It’s painful, Naoki

[neo-nomatrix]

The Olive Theory

Luke Castellan x Reader

word count: 641

summary: Strawberries are your favorite thing in the whole world, luckily for you Luke seems to “hate them”

a/n: based on the olive theory from himym

@repostingmyfavs

There are two things you truly love in this world: Luke and Strawberries.

You often find yourself helping the Demeter and Dionysus kids in the strawberry fields, despite your actual job being at the infirmary. Miranda often scolded you for taking strawberries for yourself during the day, you didn’t mind though. The sweet yet tart berry was worth it.

Your obsession with the fruit grew even further. You begged the dryads for extra portions during dinner, pairing them with yogurt and melted chocolate. Your least favorite part was having to sacrifice the berry to your godly father. You debated giving something else to him but everyone at camp and above knew your love for them, there was no running from it.

Luke was well aware of your passion for strawberries. Going as far as joking that you love them more than him. You both aren’t quite sure if it’s a joke or not.

You sit at a picnic table near the Hermes cabin with luke. You had just sat down with Percy and three shortcakes for each of you. Luke leans over and presses a soft kiss against your temple as you sit down. Percy notices that you can barely acknowledge it since your focus is on the cake.

Both Luke and Percy stare at you in wonder as you eye the desert, they can’t seem to figure out why you haven’t eaten it yet. Impatient, you look over and luke with a wanting gaze.

“Oh- right,” he says understandingly.

Percy is clearly confused by the seemingly telepathic communication. His eyes dart between you and Luke, your gaze once again set on your plate. Luke picks off the strawberries from his cake and places them on your plate. As soon as the first two strawberries are there you start devouring the cake like a ravenous hyena. Percy starts to wonder if you’re even chewing. Luke starts to eat some of his until he stops halfway. He puts the remaining piece of cake on your plate for you. You eat it immediately as if it was there the whole time.

“Are you gonna have that?” You ask politely, eyeing a large, red strawberry on Percy’s plate.

His eyes shift down to where your gaze is settled, “No, go ahead.”

You smile and take it with your fork, biting into it quickly. Percy’s eyes shift back to Luke, who’s been staring at you since the moment you sat down. His face held a small smile as he admired you. You smiled as you licked the whipped cream off your fork.

“I think I'm gonna get another slice!” You exclaim happily, standing up and nearly skipping to where the dryads are.

Luke watches as you leave, eyes falling on your figure.

“I never realized she liked strawberries that much,” Percy said.

“Yeah, I'm kinda surprised she hasn’t turned into one yet,” he laughs quietly.

“I assume you don’t like them that much? I mean- you gave her all of yours and half of the cake,” Percy explains.

“Strawberries? no way, they’re great. But she loves them so much, and I'd do anything to make her happy,” Luke smiles as he nibbles on the remains of one of your eaten berries.

You come back with a widest smile on your face. You hold another cake alongside a cup of strawberries. You sit down, happily eating more of the cake and strawberries.

“Isn’t it so great that Luke doesn’t like them? I get them all to myself!” You say, beaming.

“Yeah,,, perfect,” Percy says slowly, remembering the new found information.

“Mhm; I’d give my girl all the strawberries in the world if I could,” Luke mumbles.

Luke has a single mission in life, making you happy. Even if that means giving up his favorite fruit for you. Your smile is worth much more than a simple strawberry.

[yieldtotemptation]

MINE ft. Yeji

yeji x male reader smut

9k words

it's a follow up to... NURSE

“You’re unbelievable!”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“You’re going to make me go insane!”

“That good, am I?”

“I swear one of these days—”

“I know, I know, I feel the same—”

“—I am seriously going to kill you!”

“Uh, shit, I’m out of jokes with that one.”

“Good, because I am Not. Fucking. Joking.”

Yeji’s well and truly pissed—rightfully so, mind you (you really fucked up this time), and for the first time ever there may really be no clever quip or line that can get you out of this one.

But of course, that won’t stop you from trying.

“Look around! This isn’t a fucking joke!”

She’s glaring at you, the kind of furious that could melt steel with her gaze alone, eyes narrowed into sharp slits that slice through your bullshit like a hot knife.

And so, you blink first, balking under Yeji’s glare, and decide to take her advice and look away, look around at your surroundings—at the many, many reasons Yeji is justifiably upset.

For one, there’s your current location—a hospital room, not a good look. Then, there’s the cast around your arm and bandages on your head—not the worse of injuries, but again, when you couple it with the IV snaking its way up your arm, and the morbid beeping of a heart rate monitor filling the silence, it really does not make you out to be the most intact of individuals.

Finally, there’s Yeji, her eyes verging on tears and her hands balled into fists, clutching the fabric of your hospital gown and looking like she’s ready to tear the room apart.

Add them all together: a hospital room, a handsome but seriously injured boyfriend, with his devastated girlfriend wracked with worry besides him… it doesn’t paint the best of pictures.

But yet, before you can stop yourself, another attempt at lightening the mood: “You should see the other guy.”

There it is! A crack in Yeji’s armour, a flicker of something other than righteous fury on her face—eyes widen slightly, lips part just a smidge—a ghost of a smile, perhaps?

But it’s gone before you can confirm its existence—Yeji’s façade is maintained and all you get is a minuscule quirk of her eyebrow.

“The other guy was a car,” she says through gritted teeth.

“And now that car is being turned into scrap and I get to be in the presence of the most beautiful girl in all of Korea.”

“I hate you,” she replies, lovingly (you hope).

“Most beautiful girl in all of Asia?” You’re almost there, you can see it on her face.

“Still hate you.” An ease in tension—a slight drop of her shoulders, a relaxing of her grip.

“The world?”

A sigh, a frown slowly turning upwards, success! — “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m your idiot,” you add, and that gets you a smile—a real, genuine, heart-stopping smile that lights up the room more than any fluorescent bulb could ever dream of.

“What am I going to do with you?” She’s shaking her head, letting you have your little victory.

“What would I do without you?” You ask, and she's rolling her eyes—nothing she hasn't heard you say before. “Certainly wouldn’t get to stay in a room this nice.”

Yeji blushes, her cheeks taking on the same shade of the excessive number of roses decorating your bedside. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Seriously, Yeji?” You say, and echo back to her, “look around.”

It’s Yeji’s turn to act coy—as if it’s perfectly normal for a hospital room to come with a flat-screen TV, designer furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of the city.

The room is closer to a luxury suite than a recovery ward—bigger than your apartment, even—and there’s a voice in the back of your head telling you to maybe risk another injury so you can maybe extend your stay even longer, especially if it means getting to have Yeji fuss over you like this.

“I might have called in a favour or two,” Yeji admits. “But they said this was the only room available!”

“Yeji, this is too much,” you say, but she’s already ignoring you, waving her hand dismissively.

“It’s nothing,” she says, rising off the bed and leaving you to your own devices, satisfied that you’ve been properly scolded.

But, you know better. While Yeji is like this with everyone she cares about—always giving, always putting others first—with you she gets especially intense with her caring, and as much as she’d probably deny it otherwise, you know that she’s more than a little smug at the sight of you laid up in this fancy hospital room, with nothing to do but let her pamper you.

“Sure, sure,” you say, but you can easily imagine her on the phone with every hospital in a fifty-kilometre radius, pulling strings left and right, leaning on the right people to get what she wants.

It’s just who Yeji is—no half measures, above and beyond in every aspect.

“I should unpack,” Yeji decides, retrieving a ridiculously oversized bag from the corner of your suite.

“Unpack?” You ask, but your question falls on deaf ears.

“I was halfway across the world when I heard what happened.” Yeji's clicking her tongue with annoyance as she struggles with the zipper for the bag. “Two days before I could get a flight out!”

“You didn’t have to rush—” you start to say, but Yeji whips her head around, a clear warning not to finish the very stupid sentence you’re about to complete.

“I didn’t have time to pack everything, just grabbed what I could from our place—” (your place, technically) “—and came straight here.”

Yeji instantly sets about your room, making sure that there isn’t a corner that hasn't been touched by her: your favourite tea brewing, the last book you were reading, a Bluetooth speaker playing her ‘songs to remind you of me’ playlist; every single thing you could possibly need to feel better.  

It’s not even what she’s doing as she completes her takeover of your hospital room, it’s how she’s doing it.

She’s in her normal everyday uniform: one of your flannel shirts over a tank top that just so happens to ride up just right, showing off her toned midriff as she reaches to hang a change of clothes for you in the wardrobe. Then there’s the snug, tight yoga pants moulded to her curves that stretch over her unbearably firm ass every time she needs to bend over and take something else out from her bag.

It’s all too perfect to be accidental, and you start to get conspiratorial, like perhaps this innocent act of care is just a torturous reminder of your what you can’t have while you’re all laid up and injured.

She is dressed normally. But normal, everyday clothes for anyone else on someone like Yeji, with her body—all sleek muscles and tight lines—is absolutely devastating.

Yeji works fast, a tornado of love and care clad in a dangerous pair of leggings, and in minutes she’s done, adding a finishing touch by spraying her perfume around the room, overpowering the sterile hospital scent with the sweet, floral notes that are uniquely hers—this is her space now, anyway.

Finally, she stops at the foot of your hospital bed, picking up your medical chart, reading it like she understands it all (actually, knowing Yeji, she probably got her medical degree on the way to the hospital just in case she deemed the doctors and nurses weren't doing a good enough job and she decided to take over).

“Hm,” is Yeji’s summary of your current condition. It’s cute, seeing her stare at the clipboard with a focus she usually reserves for the stage. “Eating well, no signs of deterioration in fine motor skills, very responsive, and very… friendly?”

 You raise an eyebrow.  “They wrote that down?”

“Attending physician: Dr. Park Yoona, Nurses: Roh Ji Yun, Jeon Jeong ah, Bae Hye Jin,” Yeji starts to read out the list of names—female names—and you start to hear the nails being hammered into your coffin, “Nurse Kim Ji Won—seriously, like the actress? All women. Hm.”

“Really, I hadn’t noticed!” Maybe feigning ignorance would increase your chances of survival. “You’d think in this day and age there’d be more male nurses now though, right?”

“Hm,” it’s that noise again. “I’m glad to hear that while I was worried sick about you, desperately trying to get over here, you’ve been well taken care of. Must be nice surrounded by all these cute women in their little nurse outfits.”

“Oh, please,” you test a deflection, “they’re just doing their jobs.”

Yeji’s eyes bore into you. “One of these nurses dots her ‘I’s with love hearts.”

You can only sigh at your impending doom. It’s been a good life.

“Who do these women think they are?”

You switch up your strategy, trying another angle: “They’re medical professionals, Yeji, not strippers.”

“Right, medical professionals,” Yeji echoes, her tone thick with sarcasm, before she suddenly switches up, putting on her sweetest, and most uncomfortable, baby voice. “Oh no, such a big, strong man that needs help. Tell me where it hurts so I can rub it better for you!”

“Stop, stop,” you protest, as much as you would like her to rub it better, you still have your pride. “I barely even talk to them—they just do their check-ups and leave. I can’t even remember what they look like, they’re probably all just plain, old ladies.”

You regret the words as soon as you say them (you really should’ve seen this coming), because before you can get any further into your pitiful defence, the door to your room swings open, and in struts a young, cheery, bouncy woman.

“Is my favourite patient ready for another check-up?” You're already cringing at the nurse’s question—her voice a squeak that’s far too high-pitched and far too cute for a hospital. If anything, she looks like an actress playing the role of a nurse, in some bad movie where they clearly casted for looks over believability.

Yeji’s eyes widen at the sight of the new, endowed occupant of the room, and she reads the name on the nurse’s tag, pinned firmly over a set of scrubs that’s a few sizes too small, and you’re immediately reminded of her earlier threat to kill you with surprising clarity.

“Kim Ji Won,” Yeji reads out loud, before suddenly remembering herself, lowering a baseball cap over her eyes and slipping on a surgical mask, hiding her face from view. She turns away, pretending to fuss with the flowers on your bedside table.

“Oh!” The nurse exclaims, and you’re starting to feel the walls of what was once a luxurious hospital room start to close in. “I didn’t realise you had a guest,” she says, as light and cheerful as ever, “is she perhaps your… sister?”

Oh God, Yeji might really kill you after this. “No, no, no, she’s my—”

But Nurse JI Won ploughs onwards, having the gall (or lack of a sense of self-preservation) to turn to Yeji, and chat away. “Your brother has been the perfect patient! Me and all the other nurses just can’t get enough of him! He’s such a charmer!”

Yep. Definitely dying. It’s been a good life.

“Oh, oops!” Ji Won giggles, as she somehow drops the clipboard she was holding, sending papers scattering across the floor. “I’m so silly, give me a second to get it together!”

“No, no, it’s okay you don’t need to—” you try, but by now you should know better, “—bend over and pick it up.”

She’s already turned away from you, pointing her ass up and straight into the air, performatively picking up the pages one by one, taking her time so you can commit to memory the exact colour of the lacy thong peeking out of her pants.

It’s so blatant that you’re almost impressed, but compared to the practiced ease of your girlfriend, it’s a pale imitation. Still, your mind can’t resist making the comparison, even though there’s no ass in the world that can hold a candle to Yeji’s cheeks wrapped in sheer nylon.

Look at you, all loyal and shit—even in the face of all temptation, you’re still a committed boyfriend, through and through.

If only Yeji, who is now evaluating you with a glare as hot as a thousand suns, could know that your mind is filled with thoughts of just her… even as you're staring at Nurse Ji Won’s ass.

You’re dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

“Aha, got it!” Ji Won is back on her feet, jumping with a cheer that suggests that maybe she could use a little more support, whilst completely immune to the sudden drop in temperature in the room. Yeji might as well be a ghost to her, the nurse looks only at you, scanning your body, searching for any new injuries that may have popped up since your last check-up.

If only she knew to just come back in an hour.

“It says here it’s about time to take out your IV!” Ji Won sunnily declares.

Consent isn’t a word that seems to exist in this nurse’s vocabulary, and she takes the opportunity to lean real close over you, pressing her ample chest against your side, making sure you get the full feel of her curves as she reaches across to the stand.

Of course, you don’t look—that would be insane. Instead your eyes are on Yeji, who’s definitely not looking at the nurse. No, she’s still boring a hole right through your skull, her hands holding a shredded flower, her knuckles turning white.

“Okay, that’s all done!” Ji Won chirps, and mercifully removes her breasts from your shoulder. “Hey, why are you acting all shy? You’re usually so much friendlier!”

“Oh?” Yeji makes a noise for the first time, and it terrifies you.

But again, the nurse pretends like she doesn’t even exist. “Let me check your heartbeat… And—”

“I’m sure it’s all fine and you can leave now, right—” You try a last-ditch effort to save this poor nurse’s life, but she’s clearly not taking the hint.

“Perfect as always, Mr. Metronome!” She says, writing down on her clipboard, clearly not noticing the seconds of her remaining lifespan ticking away. “We always talk about how you must work out so much to have a heart rate so low and consistent, I mean, obviously you do—look at you!”

You file her comments away as yet another reason your life is about to end, and try to push on, “so—I’m all good, right?”

“Of course you are,” Ji Won replies, turning the volume right up on the flirtiness, and her eyes flicker over to Yeji before she winks at you. “But I’ll just double-check everything before I go.”

“No, I think that’s enough!” Yeji breaks the conversation with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, and the poor nurse jumps from the sternness of her voice. “You said he’s fine, he said he’s tired, and so that means you can leave now!”

“Oh, he’s tired? Does he need extra pillows, or is there anything I can do to make him more comfortable?”

But Yeji already has her out the door, practically dragging the girl out of the room by her collar of her scrubs. “He’s fine!”

The door slams behind the nurse, but not before you hear her giggle, “Hey, you look familiar!”

An icy silence fills the room once the nurse is gone, thick and tense. Yeji doesn’t move for several beats, it’s eerie the way she just stands there, staring at the closed door of your hospital room.

Something clicks in her head, though, and she locks the door, turning back to you, seemingly having made a final decision on your fate.

“So…” you throw out a feeler, trying your best to move straight past, well, everything. “How’s the tour going?”

“Is she perhaps your sister?” Yeji’s voice jumps an octave, a perfect imitation of the high-pitched squeak that had just left the room. She turns to you, throwing the cap off her head and tearing the mask off her face. “Vomit.”

“I have no idea what that nurse was talking about,” you say, immediately making a case to plead your innocence.

“So gross!” Her words are dripping with pure disgust, but at least it isn’t directed at you (for now, anyway). “That’s it! We’re moving hospitals!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down.”

“What is it with girls like that? Oh, you must work out a lot, I mean obviously you do!” Yeji continues her eerily uncanny impersonation. “Seriously, you’re an adult and you’re doing baby talk? ‘Perfect as always Mr. Metronome!”

“She’s just being nice, probably didn’t mean anything at all,” it’s a very weak argument you’re making, the only way the nurse could make her intentions more obvious were if she was wearing a bright neon sign that flashed ‘please fuck me!’.

“Bitch. Shameless! Hitting on my boyfriend in front of me. Acting so cute, so helpless—oops! I dropped my clipboard!” Yeji’s pouting now, fluttering her lashes, mimicking every blatant flirtation Nurse Ji Won had thrown your way.

“Really, we’re doing caricatures now?”

“Carica-what?” Yeji tilts her head to the side, and starts to sway her way over to you, her hips swinging from side to side with an exaggerated bounce. She’s playing it up to a T, making sure to sway, shake, to jiggle with each step she takes. “What does that word even mean? It’s such a big word. You must be really smart.”

Yeji settles into the role of the pretty, ditzy nurse far too easily, and her eyes tell you that she’s enjoying it far too much. For now though, you play along, clearing your throat and putting on your manliest voice—“I have been told I have a rather expansive vocabulary.”

“Wow, another big word,” Yeji’s at your bedside again, taking your hand into hers, looking up at you with wide-eyed awe. “Oh, you’re just so clever!” She giggles, as her other hand just so happens to come down on your thigh, leaving her free to squeeze and massage your muscles. “And so strong too! Do you work out?”

You grit your teeth as Yeji starts to trace her thumb in gentle circles over your skin, all the while staring up at you so innocently—she’s laying it on thick. “Sometimes…”

“I can tell…” Yeji continues, her voice trailing off as she runs her hand further up your thigh, light as a feather, but when she’s looking at you with those eyes and that smile, it’s if she’s dragging a live wire across your skin. You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure as she leans in closer, lets her top hang a little loose, lets you get a peek at the soft swell of her breasts, parts those full, pouty lips of hers, her fingers tracing the contour of your leg as she moves higher and higher and higher, until her fingertips are on your—“Unbelievable! I cannot believe that actually works on you!”

“That’s unfair!” You shout in surprise, letting go of a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. “You can’t expect me not to react when you’re doing that!”

“Uh huh, I bet!” Yeji says, clearly not buying it. “You’re not at all attracted to the helpless, innocent, bouncy little slut that leans close so you can get a good view of her fat tits?”

“I’ll have you know I’m a singular pair of tits kind of guy.”

“This bitch,” Yeji curses under her breath, throwing her hands up in frustration. She unfortunately removes her hand from your leg, and plops herself down on your bed (it’s easily big enough for two), stewing in her emotions. You watch each cross her face: concern, jealousy, disbelief, a slight hint of amusement.

“Yeji,” you say, getting her attention, snapping her out of her thoughts. “You’re my girlfriend. I’m yours. That’s that.”

She stares back at you, her eyes light up at the declaration, and she punches your arm—your healthy one, of course. “You better be.”

It’s strange, seeing Yeji like this—so raw, so visibly affected by someone else’s attention on you. You’ve always thought of her as so strong, so confident, but there’s something in her possessiveness over you that is making you think about things that should definitely not happen in a hospital.

Fuck it, injuries be damned, without another word, you stretch forward and grab her by the waist, your good hand wrapping around her firmly, pulling her closer to you. She gasps, but doesn’t resist, no, she leans into your touch, her body melting into yours as if it’s been starved for affection. 

You hold her tight, letting her settle into your embrace, and can only laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation you’re in. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be taking care of me, you’re really not helping my blood pressure right now.”

“I’m still mad at you,” Yeji murmurs into your chest, but there’s no venom in her voice. Instead, it’s filled with something else entirely—something softer, more vulnerable. Her body relaxes against you, and you feel the tension in the room start to dissipate.

“Let’s not pretend that you weren’t enjoying acting like a helpless, little slut, Yeji,” you accuse, and Yeji’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of red. “I know you.”

“It’s your fault,” Yeji says, still hiding her face in your chest. “You and your ridiculous sexy nurse fantasy.”

“It’s a classic,” you shrug, before making an executive decision. “And this time, we actually have the right setting for it.”

Yeji looks around the room, shyly biting her lip. Again, all an act, she’s far too perceptive to not have the same thought on the forefront of her mind. “Here?”

“I saw you lock the door.” You catch the smirk that flashes across Yeji’s face. “Your mind is as filthy as mine, Yeji, I’m just better at vocalising it.”

“You think you can read my mind?”

“You know I can.” You lean in, your mouth finding hers in a soft kiss to prove your point—you didn’t need to ask to know that this is what she’s been after the whole time. Your lips find her forehead, “I can read your mind”—a kiss on her cheek—“your body”—and a whisper in her ear— “your pussy.”

You know you’re right by the hitch in Yeji’s breathing, how she leans into your touch, and when she straddles you without a second thought. Her thighs squeeze down against yours, the fabric of her yoga pants sliding against your hospital gown. She’s all soft curves and heat as she settles herself over you, her hands pressing down on your chest to keep herself steady.

“That nurse really riled you up, didn’t she?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Yeji steals another kiss from you, a moan muffled against your mouth. But yet, there’s the slight grind of hips—slow, deliberate friction, unbearable by design. “I’m just here to take care of my helpless boyfriend.”

“Yoga pants, Yeji. Again,” you say. “I saw it all. How you just so happened to need to stretch, or bend over, or lean just right,” you tease, even though it’s getting harder and harder to get your words out by the second. “You’re just as bad as her, only you’re way better at it.”

You kiss her again, this time with more urgency, the type of kiss you’ve been dying to give her since she first walked into the room, your tongue slipping into her mouth and tasting minty sweetness on her breath.

“And you look way fucking hotter than her when you do it, too.”

A smug smile plays on Yeji's lips as she's kissing you again. “I am the most beautiful woman in Korea.”

“The world,” you correct her.

“Goes without saying,” she finished. “’Extremely hot girlfriend’, if I remember correctly?”

“On fucking fire,” you summarise, and reach out to touch her, needing to feel her, but Yeji stops you placing your hand back on the bed.

She gives you a stern look, and shakes her head. “No, no, no. You’re the patient here, remember? You’re not allowed to do anything,” she says, her voice a mix of playfulness and authority. Yeji leans in closer, her breath hot against your ear. “You have to let the slutty nurse take care of you.”

You see it again—that switch—and Yeji gets more adventurous, cutting off your breath as she drags her hand down, sliding it under your thin hospital gown, walking her fingers back up your thigh. She stops just shy of your hardened cock, her eyes never leaving yours, revelling in your neediness for her, your want, before finally she takes a hold of you, her grip firm and tight and sure.

There’s heat in her palm, and she pulls a moan out of you and into her mouth as she starts to slowly stroke. It’s the softness of her hand against the growing stiffness of your shaft, her fingertips grazing your skin—you know you should be more careful, more considerate of where you are, but with Yeji’s touch, all rational thought is lost.

“I bet none of those bitch nurses could make you feel like this.” Yeji’s touch is a masterpiece of precision and passion, each movement calculated, practiced, she’s right—she’s the only one who knows how to touch you in just the perfect way to make you ache. Her fingers dance along your shaft, her grip tightening and loosening in a rhythm that only she can hear.

“I don’t even know who you’re talking about.” You groan, playing dumb, your mind filled with nothing but Yeji’s body on top of you, her fingers wrapped around you. “What other women?”

Yeji’s eyes narrow, but she can’t hold back her smile. “Good answer,” she whispers, rewarding you by moving faster now, each stroke deeper, more deliberate, reading your every reaction to the way she pumps you, timing her fingers with your stuttering breaths.

She likes—loves—taking care of you, making you feel good, there’s a thrill in it for her, knowing that she’s the one who can make you this vulnerable, this desperate. Her hand moves with confidence, her strokes become more insistent, her gaze hungrier, and she leans forward, pressing herself into your chest, letting you feel the softness of her breasts, the stiffness of her nipples through the flimsy fabric of her top.

“Does this feel good, honey?” She asks, like she doesn’t already know the answer, like she can’t feel your hips bucking up to meet her touch. "Do you like it when I take care of you?"

You nod, unable to form words, unable to do anything but keep your eyes on Yeji and marvel at just how fucking hot she is on top of you as she strokes you. Her hair falls in soft waves around her face, tickling your neck and cheeks, and her eyes—those piercing, all-knowing eyes—affixed to yours, holding you hostage.

“God, I love this cock,” Yeji murmurs between kisses against your cheek, your jaw, your neck, “so big, so hard… All mine…” She’s so satisfied, so happy with herself—with your cock—her constant praise as much for her as it is for you. “Fuck, look how big you’re getting for me, barely fits in my hand.”

“God, Yeji,” you gasp, struggling to keep together, to keep from losing yourself in the palm of her hand, as each of her strokes, each of her words, keep coming, stroking your cock, your ego, fucking with you completely. “I’m getting close—”

“Not yet.” Yeji lets you go, leaving you panting, your tortured cock standing tall and missing her attention. 

Before you can even mount a protest, she’s sliding up your body, stretching above your head to grab the hospital bed remote, smothering you with the soft mounds of her breasts as she does so. You groan into her, forced to feel the weight of her pressing down on you, the warmth of her skin against yours, teasing you in a way that’s both infuriating and heavenly.

With a click, the bed whirs into action, reclining back until you're flat on your back, staring directly up at her. She kneels over your head, and there’s the outline of her pussy through the fabric of her leggings, all swollen and damp and begging for your tongue.

She doesn’t have to look to know she has your undivided attention—she's pulling her shirt and her top over her head, setting her breasts, ripe and full, bouncing free from their confinement. No bra today (of course she didn’t, what would be the fucking point?) and you get a full view of those perfect tits, her dark, pebbled nipples already stiff for you.

“It’s your turn to take care of me.”

Yeji lowers herself onto your waiting mouth, lets out a noise that’s so needy, so fucking greedy, as your lips meet her heat for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

“Fuuuuuuck…”

You kiss, lick, nibble at her, tease her, groan into her thighs, as she urges herself against you, making you breathe in the scent of her sex, so immediately wet for you.

It’s not nearly enough for either of you—you need to feel her against your lips, your tongue. You move your hand up her thigh and towards her hip, digging your fingers into her waistband. But Yeji stops you again, and says the four most pleasant words in any language. “Just fucking rip them.”

There’s no hesitation—she lifts her hips off your face, you snake your hand between her legs, take one end of the fabric between your fingers, and another in your teeth: one quick, sharp yank, and you tear. The nylon gives way with a satisfying rip, and Yeji shivers above you as the cool air hits her full, puffy, exposed cunt.

“Mmmph, yesssss,” Yeji hisses as you pull her back down onto your lips, shuddering as you kiss that lovely crease where her thigh meets her pelvis, her pleasure vibrating through your own skull. She quivers, shifts, needy for your lips on her naked pussy, and she pleads, “stop teasing… I need it…”

You smile against her skin, your breath ghosting over her pussy, making her squirm. "What's the magic word?"

"Now," Yeji says, her voice firm, her thighs so magnificently tense. "The magic word is now."

With that, you give her a long lick, starting from the very bottom of her pussy and moving upward, tasting every millimetre of her juicy cunt, tracing the entire length of her slit, ending with an indulgent flick of her clit.

“Fuuuuuuuuck,” Yeji cries out, shivering, falling apart as your tongue finds that sweet spot, her thighs tightening around your neck. Her hands come down to either side of your head, her fingers tangling in your hair, holding you in place as she starts to rock back and forth, setting her own rhythm, matching her hips with the pace of your tongue. “God, you’re so fucking good at that, always so fucking good at that.”

She’s whining, so, so desperate, so pleading, and you’re eager as you taste her, explore her, will her to come apart in your mouth. You’re taking generous licks, tongue dancing around her clit, teasing it, testing her full vocal range as she cries out your name

“Oh, please, please baby, fucking please.” She’s getting wetter and wetter, coating your tongue, your lips, your chin. “I missed this,” she gasps, grinding herself against your tongue, all desperation and utter awe. “Missed you making me feel so fucking good.”

You look up, up at her as she rides your face, she’s so fucking breathtaking. Her body tensing around you and on top of you—so tight, so firm—chiselled abs honed by decades of dancing, that gorgeous curve of her waist leading up to her perky, petite tits, so lovely, bouncing with every gasp she takes.

"I'm so wet for you, honey, so fucking wet," Yeji whimpers, “you always make me so fucking wet—I can’t—ah!”

A sharp inhale, you suck her clit into your mouth, flicking your tongue against the sensitive nub. She’s moaning so fucking loud, so unrestrained, echoing through the hospital room and down the hallways, loud enough to let every nurse on the floor know exactly how fucking good it feels to be on top of you. Her hips jerk, she can’t control her own body now, and you know she’s getting closer and closer, determined to ride your tongue right to the end.

Just looking at her is all it takes for you—seeing her so damn horny, so satisfied sets you on edge, needing something, anything to take your cock and match her euphoria.

“Do you want me to help you out, baby?” Yeji’s reading your mind. You groan and affirmative into the folds of her cunt, and in an instant, you go from being smothered by her juices to being faced with the full, perfect tautness of her ass.

She makes it look so easy, so graceful, lifting herself off your face and spinning around to this new position—face down, ass up.

A second later and your wishes are granted—your cock, so heavy with need, standing neglected and alone is met by Yeji’s soft, warm lips, kissing the very tip of you, tasting the drops of pre-cum that’s already leaking out of you.

“Let me make you feel better,” is all Yeji says—just one light kiss, a whisper into your cock, and she dives onto you, swallowing your cock whole. It’s far too much, far too quickly, you’re out of breath and ready to tap out as her warm, wet mouth envelopes your whole rod in one, smooth suck.

Her tongue swirls around you, her teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, she takes you deeper and deeper, until you’re buried down her throat. You throb inside her, her throat muscles contracting back around you, and you can’t help but thrust up into her mouth, seeking more, needing more.

“Yeji!” You cry out her name on reflex as she takes you in, her hands digging into your thighs as she works her mouth up and down, bobbing, taking you deep and noisily, smacking her lips, sloshing her tongue. Whatever pain you had lingering from your arm, your head, or your ribs, it’s all forgotten—there’s only Yeji, and her exquisite lips, doing everything she can to wring every drop of pleasure out from your body.

It's too much, too intense, and you’ve been on the edge since she first grabbed a hold on you. This can’t end now, not when she’s sucking you so hard, practically worshipping your cock. You need a distraction—pull her hips back, gently, firmly, push that beautiful ass back into your face and indulge in her again.

“Mmmph—!” Yeji moans into you as your tongue meets her cunt, the sound reverberating down your shaft and right into your brain.

And now it’s a competition—you push through her pussy with her tongue, feel her walls tightening around you. She’s pushing back into you, grinding down on you, making sure you get the full flavour of her cunt, her ass, every inch of her on your taste buds.

She’s more frantic now, moving faster, sloppier on your cock as you push her closer and closer to climax. Her tongue slides against you, her cheeks hollow out around you, she drools and dribbles down your shaft—it’s messy and wet and absolutely fucking amazing.

But you can’t let her win, not this time. You double down on your efforts, suctioning your lips over her clit and start rapidly flicking your tongue, setting a relentless pace that you know will make her crumble. She tries her best to keep up, to keep going, but she’s a mess of sucking and moaning and quivering all over your face and on your cock.

Yeji works her tongue, her lips, her mouth—she makes sure you know it’s all yours. But then, after taking you all the way to the back of her throat, your cock pops out of her mouth with a wet smack, and she lets out a cry of pure, unbridled ecstasy. “Fuck, I can’t, I can’t, I’m gonna—FUCK!”

She collapses, bent over and prone, only her ass rocking and grinding against your face as she utterly, completely falls apart, ruined by just your tongue, ruined by the orgasm you’re giving her.

“So good—God—fuck—keep going, keep going, keep going!” Yeji’s voice is a chant, a prayer that you’re more than happy to answer. She’s shaking, her pussy pulsing against your face as you lick and suck at her clit, clouding your mind with the heady mix of sweetness and desire that has you hooked. She’s lost, given up and given over to you now, her moans becoming screams—“your tongue, your fucking tongue—gah!”

Her body geos rigid, locking up as she hits that wonderful peak—but you’re not ready to stop. You keep licking, keep pushing through wave after wave of pleasure that crash over her, not giving a second of rest. Her juices flood your mouth and you swallow greedily, drinking her in like it’s the only medicine you need.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—fucking making me feel so good—God!”

Nothing fucking matters, all you know is Yeij’s cunt is on your tongue and her ass is in your face, and your only job is to keep licking her to her core, until she finally goes slack, crumbling on top of you.

She stays like that, her legs shaking like she’s just run a marathon, her nipples squashed against your chest, her gasps hot and ragged against your thigh. You can feel the staccato of her heart, and you hold her close, massaging her lower back as she does her best to catch her breath.

And yet, there you are, still throbbing, still so fucking hard and delirious with your need for her touch.

There’s no point in hiding it, she’s so close you can feel her breath on your cock, your close enough to poke her eye out with how hard you are.

“Someone’s feeling left out,” she says, as if she’s not entirely to blame. “Is that for me?”

“You know it is,” you respond, far weaker, more pleading than you intended.

A gentle, torturous kiss against your thigh, and you’re just about ready to explode in her face. “Then I guess as your dutiful, loving, girlfriend, I better do something about it.”

It’s so easy for her—one moment she’s exhausted, out of breath on top of you, the next she’s fully recovered, back on top and mounting you, facing you as she smears the tip of your cock with her wetness.

You try to sit up, eager to get straight to it, straight to fucking her like you need to, but her hands are on your shoulders and she’s pushing you back down.

“Lie down, baby,” she hushes you, pressing you down onto the mattress. “Just enjoy this.”

Her eyes narrow as she drinks in the sight of you, bursting with anticipation as she lowers her pussy onto your cock. It’s a special kind of torment, one that makes your hips buck involuntarily, so impatient to feel her warmth again.

But she takes her sweet time, and it’s only when she’s close enough, she bends down, mouth hovering over yours. Your eyes drift shut, and you wait for that soft contact of her lips, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, she whispers, "I've got you," and you feel the warm, velvety embrace of her cunt as she takes you in, inch by agonising inch.

Fully seated, her walls close around you, and that’s when she kisses you hard, her tongue pushing past your lips and into your mouth with the same aching hunger of her cunt around your cock.

She tastes so damn good, feels incredible—it’s been too long, and you want nothing but to grab her, hold her and slam her hips down onto yours and drive deeper into her, but your body won’t cooperate.

You can only lay there as she starts to move, her hips rocking back and forth, slowly, intentionally, having you seeing stars. And then, just when you think you can’t take it anymore, she lifts herself up off your cock, and in one swift motion, sinks herself straight back down, whispering “holy fuck yesss” against your lips.

She needs time to get used to you, used to your cock filling her whole again. “This fucking cock,” she bites your lip as she rides you, “always so big, always so perfect.”

Yeji has to take it slow, has to let her pussy stretch around you, adjust to you, before she can start to ride you, to fuck you like she really wants to. And she does want to—wants to claim you, erase any doubt about who is the one person that can fuck you like you deserve to be—so, so much.

Each movement down the length of your cock is faster than the one before, each moan into your mouth hotter, each clench of her cunt around yours so much tighter, until she’s fucking you in earnest—harder, faster.

“So thick, so, so, riiiiight,” Yeji groans.“I’ve missed this, needed this.”

She’s riding you like she’s been waiting for this forever, like this might be the last time, bouncing her ass up and down, her eyes hooded with lust, her hair a wild mess around her flushed face, her nipples swinging every time your hips meet.

“When you get better, honey, I need you to fuck me real hard,” Yeji whispers in your ear, her breath hot and tickling, thick with lust, her tight cunt milking you, keeping you on the edge of insanity. “But I’ll take care of you for now, I’ll take care of this cock—fuck I love it—I love you—I love that you’re mine.”

“You’re mine too, Yeji,” you groan back to her.

“That’s right—I belong to you and you belong to me,” Yeji punctuates her point with a hard slam of her cunt down onto your cock. "You're My. Fucking. Boyfriend."

She’s getting faster and faster now, picking up her pace, like she needs to prove something, to herself, to you, to the entire fucking hospital.

“Those other bitches can’t ride you like I do—can’t fuck you like I do,” Yeji’s panting, each word fucked out of her, coming out like a proud battle cry. She’s right, you’re sure of it—no one else can make you feel this way, no one else can take you, claim you like she can. She’s lost in it now, lost in the heat and the friction, her whole body consumed by a burning desire to show you just how good she is at this.

Yeji leans back, sitting upright, giving herself better leverage to bounce on your cock, giving you a better view of her body—all perfectly sculpted edges and soft curves—and those fucking perky tits. They’re stunning, just like the rest of her, and you reach for them on instinct, cupping the soft mounds, feeling the weight of them in your palm. Her nipples are so hard, erect, begging for your touch, and you don’t want to disappoint—could never—so you pinch and twist them, watching her face contort with pleasure, feeling her pussy tighten around you as she cries out.

“No one can take this big fucking cock like I can—down my throat, in my cunt.” It’s a declaration—loud and proud, for every single person in the hospital to know.

“Jealous?” You grunt out the word, hoarse, rough. “Thinking about me fucking other woman like I fuck you? Making them scream—making them cum as hard as I’m about to make you?”

You can see the twist in Yeji’s face, how her pupils dilate as your words sink in. There’s a war playing out on her face, jealousy and desire, the mere thought of you fucking other woman making her pussy spasm around you. “Oh, fuck you! You would ruin them, honey, they wouldn’t be able to take you. Or is that what you want to hear? Some cute bitch screaming: ‘oh baby, oh please, oh daddy, I can’t take it—I can’t take this big fucking cock!’”

There’s truth in the mockery, and there’s a dark thrill in Yeji’s jealousy. But now’s not the time for anything (or anyone) else but her—you’re too close, too far gone, your cock throbbing with the need to spill into her.

“Only I can take it, it’s mine, mine, mine.” She’s soaking you, so needy, so deep, so fucking filthy as she whines over your cock. “You better keep fucking me—only me—or I will make your life hell.”

“Show me then,” you challenge her, and you can see something flash across her eyes—something primal, something rough.

“I’m yours,” she declares again, riding you in a way that can only be described as pure art, her whole body moving in perfect harmony with a singular goal—to be absolutely wrecked by your cock. “All yours, nobody else’s. And you’re mine.”

It takes one hard pump into her tight, sweaty body and she’s falling into you, her body pressed on top of you, her forehead pressed against yours. It’s electric, the connection between your bodies, a jolt of pleasure surging through your cock and her cunt until all that matters is the feel of her fucking you like her life depends on it.

It’s love at every thrust, every gasp and moan. Nothing but Yeji on top of you, her soft skin pressed against you, her heartbeat racing against yours, her wetness coating your cock like a silk glove. Not just pleasure, you’re claiming each other—she’s whispering it in your ear, whispering your name like a promise, a declaration of war against anyone who would dare to come between you.

“Fuuuck.” Yeji bites down on your shoulder, digs her nails in your skin, squeezes her pussy around you like a vice. “I’m gonna do it again,” she mewls, “this cock—your beautiful cock—is gonna make me cum all over again.”

She’s chasing that precious feeling, desperate for it, her hips moving in erratic circles, determined to bring you with her. You can feel it too, the beginnings rising from the base of your cock, the tension in your balls. You want to hold on, to make this last, but at this point it’s like trying to hold back a tidal wave.

“Give—fuck—give me more!” Yeji’s eyes are squeezed shut; her mouth open in a silent scream as she grinds down on you, her body trembling with the effort to keep her balance. You can see the tension in every line of her body, how her abs clench, her toes curl. It's like watching a live wire, and you're the one holding the current. "Nobody can fuck me like you do—fuck—nobody can take you like I can!"

You wrap your arm around her shoulder, holding her tight, wrenching control from her, making her prove her words with every forceful thrust. You’re going to be in pain later, but fuck all that—Yeji’s so wet, so tight, so fucking hot—she’s a force of nature, and you’re just the lucky fuck that gets to be in the eye of the storm.

“You’re going to cum in me, now, okay? I’m going to cum so fucking hard and then you’re going to cum right inside me.” Yeji’s completely given herself over to you, letting you fuck her, use her, she’s all yours anyway. “Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck!”

And then she’s there, her cunt gripping you like a fist, her walls pulsing and quivering around you. Yeji’s eyes fly open, her gaze locks onto yours, and she’s cumming hard.

Her orgasm rips through her body, she’s choking your cock with pussy, muscles tightening and release in a painful rhythm, and all she can do is shake and cry out every filthy word she knows, every sweet noise she can make as she spills and creams and comes apart on top of you.

“It’s too much,” Yeji’s barely holding on, panting incessantly, “too-fucking-much—too-fucking-much!”

The way she looks, the way she fucks, the way she cums—it’s a thing of beauty, an absolute fucking honour to witness—every twitch, every shiver, every gasp that falls from her swollen lips. Her nails pierce your skin, her teeth threaten to draw blood, her eyes wide and wild as her climax crashes over her.

“Please-please-fucking-please!”

But she doesn’t stop. If anything, she’s becoming more insistent, more urgent, fucking back against you again, her hips moving in a blur, taking you like a woman possessed. She’s pleading for you, pleading for you to give in, to let go, to follow her into bliss. Yeji’s a woman on a mission—to make you feel her, to make you fill her and you realise that maybe this isn’t just about jealousy anymore—it’s about making you know in every fibre of your being that your cum belongs in her cunt and her cunt only.

"Give it to me," Yeji demands, “I need you to—please—fuck—cum in me!”

Every word’s a trigger, sending you spiralling over the edge. It’s been building for an eternity now, an unbearable pressure needing to find a home in Yeji’s scorching, sopping wet pussy.

“Kiss me—I need you to—need to taste—fuck—please—kiss me now!”

There’s nothing left to do but obey, bringing your hand to the back of her neck and pulling her down into a fierce, bruising kiss. Your mouths crash together, your tongues dance and entangle, your teeth clash, and all the while Yeji’s clenching around you, cunt contracting in an effort to keep you still, keep you together.

“Fill me.”

A final, triumphant spear into her and your gone—releasing, spurting your cum deep inside her—so hard, so hot, so intense, emptying everything, all of you, every last drop into her greedy pussy.

“Yesssssss—this—this is what I needed.” Yeji hums a satisfied note into your collarbone, so full, so complete, so content. She’s still slowly rocking her hips back and forth, still pulsing around you, milking you dry. “I feel so…full.”

She dissolves into a puddle in your arms, nuzzling her head into the crook of your neck. Your hand finds its way to her back, tracing gentle circles, rubbing away the tension that’s been built up, the strain she’s put her body through.

She’s warm, she's so alive, and you can feel her heart beating against your chest, a stilted, hurried rhythm that's gradually slowing down. You kiss her forehead, her cheeks, her neck, anywhere you can reach without having to strain yourself. It’s a gentle reassurance, making sure that for all the fucking and the filthiness, she knows that no matter what happens, you’re there to make sure she’s okay.

Yeji whispers an “I love you,” her words like a balm to your soul. “I really, really, fucking love you, you know?”

“I know, Yeji,” you say, low enough for only her to hear. “I really, really, fucking love you too.”

There’s still the embers of your shared climax resonating through your bodies, the come down from an epic high that’s left the two of you a tangled mess of limbs and hospital sheets. You both lay there, Yeji’s pussy still spasming around your cock, your cum and her juices dribbling down and pooling between your bodies. 

“I was really worried about you.” Yeji whispers, vulnerable. The admission hangs in the air above you, a stark reminder of the fear and insecurity that’s been simmering just beneath the surface. “When they called me, I thought—I—I fucking hated that feeling.”

“I’m sorry,” you say. It’s all there is left to say.

“And I am really pissed about these nurses,” Yeji adds with a deadly seriousness, that only makes you smile. “I’m moving you to another hospital as soon as I can.”

“We just might have to after this,” you murmur, stroking her hair as you catch your breath. “No way they didn’t hear any of that.”

“Good.” Yeji declares, a little too intensely, too smugly.

You look down at her and can’t help but chuckle. “Well aren’t you all happy and copacetic now?”

Yeji looks back at you, pauses, and then grins. “Copa-what-tic?”

You can only roll your eyes. “Copacetic.”

“Wow,” Yeji starts, her voice back up an octave, laced with sickly sweetness. “Such a big, complicated word. You’re so smart.”

“Uh huh.”

“And these muscles too! Look at you all pumped and sweaty. Have you been working out?” Yeji teases, her cheeks still flushed a bright pink shade. She reaches down to give your bicep a gentle squeeze, mouthing an exaggerated ‘wow’ in amazement of its size.

“I did just finish a pretty intense workout. Might’ve even got another concussion from having my brains fucked out.”

“In that case, as your nurse it’s my responsibility to get you good and clean.” Yeji’s kissing you again, soft and slow.  “Come on now, let me give you a good, nice scrub.”

“Is this going to be a reciprocal thing, you wash my back, I wash yours?”

“Why don’t you come with me and find out?” Yeji slides off your cock, peeling herself off your sticky body, and lifts herself up and off the bed.

You watch as she stretches, her body a glorious mess of grace and sweat and cum, and for a moment you’re just in awe of her. She’s glowing, and she’s not even trying.

“Aren’t you going to join me?” Yeji winks, already sauntering away from you and towards the bathroom, her hips swaying, her ass calling for you with each perfect bounce. “It’s time for some serious physical therapy. Nurse’s orders.” 

[k9wa]

⟁ A BULLET A DAY, ft. BOOTHILL.

⠀ — where teasing, annoying, poking and prodding all fall under the same category; flirting.

⚠︎︎ more mechanic! reader, gn, boothill being an idiot, flirting, suggestive, he has fake teeth to me, something about tension + leaving him high and dry is soooo ….

from this request !

it’s a miracle, truly, how boothill manages to be so tempting and endearing yet so utterly irritating and infuriating at the same time. 

and it’s hot, sure, but that just makes it all the more annoying, leaves you frustrated and with an odd pool in your stomach.  

boothill managed his way into your supply of bullets, happily tossing back the brass casings like a simple snack. it was a genius idea at the time, really, giving him a stomach that can store ammunition. though had you expected him to chew on the damn things instead of swallowing them— you know, like he was intended to— you would’ve just given him a little side bag to save yourself the work.

you half hoped the lead stuffing the things would seep into his still intact brain, but chastised yourself for the thought soon after having it. you don’t hate him that much. your brain should check back and try the thought again in twenty minutes. 

“y’know what’d be real neat, buttercup?” boothill’s legs were kicked up lazily on your workbench as he sat next to you, waiting for you to finish a small modification on his revolver. “spikes in my boots.” he lifted a foot up, rolling his ankle a bit. “you know, them retractable ones. be able t’a have some real fun with those things.”

you snorted, his efforts to dodge his synesthesia beacon as entertaining as always.

“since when do i take requests?” you asked, eyes focused down on your work— far too used to his antics to lift your head anymore.

“since when d’you deny gettin’ to tinker with me?”

he brought his feet down to the floor and leaned forward on his thighs, the denim of his pants tightening around them. “what, gonna make me say please and thank ya now?” 

you truly wanted to reply, say it wasn’t a half bad idea and that you’d look into the upgrade. until he started shaking a few bullets around in his palm like they were fucking almonds.

now boothill noticed the clench of your jaw, and oh how he revelled in it. he’s fully aware how the crunching of brass and lead peeves you, ie. you telling him to knock it off an hour ago— (“it ain’t hurtin’ nobody, is it now?”—) but you’re just so darn cute when you’re ticked off. he’s gotta push your buttons just a lil bit. 

“somethin’ the matter?” the way his sharp teeth gleamed through that damn grin weren’t doing anything to help. 

he took a bullet between his thumb and forefinger, the shiny gunmetal digits pinching the ammunition as he held it up next to you. “d’ya care for one, sugar plum?”

fine, you thought. two can play that game.

you tore your attention away from the old steel revolver, finally turning to look at him. boothill prepared for an insult, one he’d tell you was ‘flatterin’ and all,’ but it didn’t come.

you leaned towards his hand, keeping your eyes locked with his that glowed a familiar and faint red. 

then you took the bullet between your tongue and top front teeth, gently pulling it out of his hands with your mouth.

his smirk actually dropped— you’d think someone stuck an infected usb into his ear with all the ideas that flooded the forefront of his brain, making his circuits just tingle with excitement. something about the hot single mechanic in his area.

you turned back to your desk, removing the bullet from your teeth and twirling it between your fingers idly as you gave a once over to his revolver, as if nothing had happened.

boothill blinked, chuckling gruffly with a shake of his head as he slumped back in his chair, flicking another bullet into the air with his thumb and catching it in his palm with a gentle clink! the cyborg gave a low whistle as he kicked his feet back up.

“ain’t you somethin’,” he drawled, earning a chuckle from you. “y’sure know how t’keep a man on his toes, don’t ya buttercup?” 

“i dunno what you mean, boothill.” you only offered a hum, willfully ignorant to boothill’s colourful imagination.

“oh i’m real sure y’don’t.” he shook his head, another chuckle rumbling his chest and sending a shiver down your neck.

“say,” he leaned towards you, his shoulder to yours, feeling a little lucky and dropping his voice to a knee-weakening purr, “if that pretty mouth a’yers likes metal, i’m more’en happy t’a—” 

“all done.”

all bets go down the drain. boothill deadpanned as you clicked the barrel of his gun into place and handed it back to him, standing up to stretch your arms.

“shops closed for today,” you fold them, leaning back against your bench. “you better get a move on before i have to kick you out.”

boothill’s eyes trailed up your figure, taking his sweet time finding your face. the cowboy raised an eyebrow into a cocky arch despite him swearing his body was on the verge of its cooling protocol. 

“you keep woundin’ me, sugar.” 

“i dunno what you mean, boothill.”

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[kissitbttr]

a very tired miguel who gets home from work and gets babied by his woman

-

It's close to 9pm as you're lying on your bed. keeping your focus on the book you're reading, one that you failed to keep as a part of your routine due to your busy schedule with work. being a fashion designer has it's perks but it also has its dark sides too. especially when it comes to dealing with snobby ass clients

as you are about to flip to another page, you hear the front door opened. keys rattling against the ceramic bowl with a loud sigh follows after. a soft smile appears on your face soon as you realize who it is

“miguel? Is that you?” you softly call out your husband’s name while putting the book down.

"si, mi amor" he appears shortly by the doorway. your tall and handsome fiancee adorned in an unbuttoned white shirt that showcase a bit of his chest and paired with black trousers. a simple work attire but never fail to make your knees wobble. the sight could put any Greek Gods known to a man to shame.

your heart breaks a little seeing how tired he looks. his eye-bags are coming off too strong. a constant reminder on how he has been working himself far too hard despite you telling him to take it easy. but that's just how he is, stubborn.

"how's work my love?" you ask, watching him undress himself, revealing his exposed toned chest before putting the clothes away with the rest of his dirty ones in the bathroom. "I take it, it wasn't a good day?"

"you could say that" he replies tiredly, grabbing a pair of sweatpants off the chair and slipping it on. "trying to get ahold with the new recruits is a fucking job, Peter's been getting on my nerves and I'm working on advancing the technology we have right now in order for it to be easier to identify every single anomaly's DNA we've come across to. But the amount of hypotheses and research I've done are nowhere near close to how I want them to be."

"i would ask Tony Stark for help but que cabron esta muerto" he breathes out a sigh, pinching the thick skin between his brows. "I'm drained, mi amor... i can't fucking do this shit everytime--"

"no hey.. stop" you shake your head, hate having to see your man fronting a distressed look in his face. “come here, Miggy” you pout at him patting your chest for him to lay his head,

he sighs heavily. plopping into the bed and carefully lays himself on top of you. pounding head finding comfort in the warmth of your chest, snaking his big arms around your waist.

you put your arms around him, locking him tightly as your soft lips kiss his forehead making him purr.

“my pretty baby. exhausted aren't you? hm?” you ask in a cooing tone. he hums -- which sounded like a growl to you-- with a nod before nuzzling himself closer. “oh my poor poor baby... my handsome man. always working himself to the bone” another kiss on the forehead

“come up a little closer, hm?” you ask as he barely shifts his body. too lazy and far too comfortable in your arms like this for him to move.

you run your fingers through his soft hair, moving a piece that’s covering his forehead. looking down to see him close his eyes, yet not sleeping.

it’s so funny to see how this freakishly large- broad man who always seems to bring a cold presence that scares everyone off at work—which is technically true— then turns into a huge softie and a love puddle for you in a split seconds.

it’s truly a privilege that you’re the only one who gets to see and feel this

“look how cute you are, baby… do you know how cute you are, hm?” you coo at him, lips kissing his nose and the sharpness of his cheekbone. trying your best to console him in hopes of washing his stress away.

he lightly shakes his head. “no” a curt reply rolls of his mouth, drawing your body closer to him if that's even possible.

you pretend to gasp dramatically at his answer. fingers still stroking his hair lightly. “you don’t?! oh no! we have to fix that! you’re the cutest *kiss* most handsome *kiss* hardworking *kiss* man I’ve ever known” showering him with compliments in between kisses. he breathes out a small chuckle that muffles against your chest.

it’s obvious that miguel rarely gets treatments like this, he’s no one to shy from things but you're his only exception. the only person who truly can get him blush like a little kid when he's shown the slightest bit of affection.

“who’s baby are you hm? are you my baby?” a smile graces your lips as your eyes casting down to his pretty features.

“me. I’m your baby” he mumbles, tightening his grip around you. "always be your baby"

-

inspired by @webslingingslasher their frat!peter work yall is making me [REDACTED] please go take a look!!

[snaileer]

You Don’t Know Me

“We’re so glad you’re showing an interest in our work here, Mr. Wayne!”

“Of course! It’s just all so new!” Bruce said through a hollow laugh, “It’s almost unbelievable!”

“Believing in ghosts is the first step to finally getting rid of them!”

Bruce fought to keep his face flat as the director enthusiastically continued his tour of their facility.

Their ghost hunting facility.

Where they had funded and government sanctioned labs purely for the persecution of an entire inter-dimensional species.

“-Truly, the Drs.Fenton were an inspiration to the entire field of ectobiology! We wouldn’t know half the things we know about ghosts if it wasn’t for their early research!”

Bruce forced a thin smile, “Oh? Will I get to meet them? Or can I at least see some of their work?”

The man faltered almost imperceptibly, “Ah well.. that might be a bit, Fentons can be a bit.. overzealous and-“

“I’m sure it would go a long way to understanding the need for such a large facility. If it’s worth it even, perhaps I could fund an expansion…” Bruce let his voice trail off.

The man’s eyes sharpened at the mention of his financials- of course, what more could you expect from a shark who’d joined an operation like this- and the man quickly smiled.

“But of course Mr. Wayne!” He turned around, leading them towards an elevator, “Our labs are just downstairs, easy access you know, and well.. with any new specimens it’s always best to start right away!”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. They already had subjects? Their reports, their research had indicated they weren’t there yet, but if they were, this could quickly turn into a rescue mis-

“-It’s an absolute honor that we even have one of the Fenton’s themselves working with us!” Bruce sharpened his senses, one of them was here? The people who had laid every base for a hateful crusade against another dimension, all for their own ambition?

“Our labs are right through here,” the director said as he pushed open a door, “Dr. Fenton is working with our prize specimen right now, I’m sure!”

Bruce quickly scanned and analyzed the entire room. Testing tubes, jars filled with green, centrifuges, a sample fridge, glassware, plenty of counter space, all taken up by various tools and materials. And standing in front it was the reason for it all, dressed in a white lab coat over garish latex.

He turned around as they entered, “You know me too well, Director,” the young man spoke, ignoring the green splattered over his gloves, “My work with him isn’t finished yet.”

“Mr.Wayne, meet our frontier scientist, Dr. Daniel Fenton.”

Bruce Wayne scanned the young man, no older than 26, with a height similar to his own and shoulders only barely less.

A scientist. An unknown. A threat.

Fenton smiled at him, “Tell me Mr.Wayne,” Daniel said, and his smile went sharp, “Do you believe in ghosts?”