#I started playing the game again so watch out

[enhard]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚ ✩

sim jaeyun — “use me” (MDNI)

(wrote this just thinking how jake has pretty veiny hands to match his big veiny cock ♡︎)

pairing: bf!s.jy x fem!reader

: you’re pissed at your boyfriend for ignoring you but luckily he knows the best way to help you calm down… using his fingers of course ! but that’s not all

cw: smut, fingering, hand kink, size kink, riding, cockwarming, creampie, squirting, lots of stretching out, pet names, praising, fucking while on call with others, jake is just packing ughh </33

You love your boyfriend, obviously, but you started hating how he spent more time playing with his friends rather than hanging out with you.

Every time he had free time you’d ask him to sleep over at his and he accepted whenever you would ask. However… he would spend his time clicking away at his computer screen, his pretty fingers moving along the keyboard keys.

You’d sit with your arms resting on your knees, curdled up on his bed watching him.

“Hurry through here so we can corner these guys.. come on, faster, faster!” he says, speaking to Heeseung, Jungwon and Sunghoon through his headset. He’s been playing with them for hours now, and you just spend your time listening to him. The blue light from the screen emits onto his glasses, spreading on his whole face.

You scrolled your phone for a bit, but how much more could you scroll really? You desperately needed his attention, you missed his sweet words and his touch.

Without wanting to disturb him, you walk behind his gaming chair, wrapping your arms around his abdomen. He had to watch how he reacted cause the others could hear his every movement. “Oh..hey my love, what’s up?” he says, still focused on the screen. Your mood changes again, seeing how uninterested he is, not even bothering to look at you. You quickly take your hands off him and back off, that move making him look back at you for a split second.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, shooting another enemy.

“Forget it, i’m going home.” you say, the want to stay getting lesser and lesser.

“Wait.. what? what do you mean..?” he says, immediately grabbing his headset to take it off his head. He leaves the keyboard in the middle of the online game, faint sounds of the guys’ screams coming from the headphones.

“I wanna go home.” you look down.

“I’m sorry my love… I was totally ignoring you. I didn’t realise. I’ll leave the game right now.” he gently grabs your hands, looking up at you like a guilty puppy.

You stop him. “I’m just mad at you. How can you invite me over then just.. ignore me like that??” you snap.

He looks down again. “I’m acting so stupid. I’m sorry.. is there any way I can make it up to you?”

As he’s massaging your fingers with his, you look down, noticing the way his joints move. The amount of small veins he has in his hand and how easily you can trace them with your touch. You stare at his slender fingers, his perfect trimmed nails… just getting an idea.

“Jake..” you whisper, pulling him into a soft kiss. As you lean in, he grabs onto one side of your jaw, pulling you closer to him. You almost sit on his lap, before he stands up to make you walk back to his bed. You both make out for a bit, barely getting enough of each other’s lips.

He lays you on his bed, getting on top of you to continue kissing you. It’s just like he knows what you want to forgive him. “Let me make you happy… what do you think?” he smiles softly. You just nod, looking up at him with desperate but determined eyes.

His fingers slyly cross your neck, down your collarbone and down your shirt. He uses one hand to massage your whole chest through your large shirt. He slowly touches you all over, before stopping at your hips, where the shirt ends. he moves his fingers up your shirt, on your abdomen, finally sliding it off you from above your head. Your breasts now fully in his view, he smiles upon looking at them.

“You’re so damn perfect. I love you so much.” he says. his fingers cage your tits with a squeeze, trying to make the best of it with how much time he has until his members realise he’s gone.

“I love you too baby.” you say back shyly, biting your lip after watching his veiny hands touch you all over. His fingers are genuinely perfect, the way his hands are so soft on your plush skin, pretty pink knuckles and hands just a little cold to make you shiver.

He finally moves down to your pants, sliding them off in one move, making you spread your legs a bit so he can take them off. You’re just left in your underwear now, already soaked. You’re waiting for his slender fingers to welcome your pussy with a touch, but he has other plans. Instead, he picks you up in his embrace, legs wrapped around his waist. Your wet underwear leaves an embarrassing stain on his plain white shirt but he doesn’t mind.

He buries his head into your neck while he walks back to the desk. “You’re so wet for me, love.” He says satisfied. “Now you better stay quiet, the mic is on you and… you don’t want them to hear you, do you?” you look at him a bit scared of the situation, but you shake your head. “Good girl, stay quiet for me then.” he reassures.

Jake sits back down on the chair, making you sit on his lap, facing him. He places the mic of the headset right close to you telling the guys that he’s finally back. He puts the headset on one of your ears, letting you hear him aswell with the other. Now his friends are just talking about random things while you hear them with one ear, and your boyfriend’s voice in the other. You stay completely quiet but he makes a move, leaning in to your face to tell his members that he’s going to be away from his keyboard for a bit again.

After he says that, he leans back into his chair and immediately rips your underwear off. He makes a big hole in them not even bothering to take them off. Jake shyly touches your sensitive clit with the bud of his thumb, tracing small circles around it. He looks at what he’s doing the entire time, admiring how wet you could’ve gotten for him in this time.

He pulls his fingers away to shove them in your mouth, making you lick and suck on his fingers for a minute or so. The fingers get coated in your saliva, and he pulls them out to continue touching your clit. You succeed staying quiet, grabbing his shoulders with both your hands. He picks up his pace, beginning to squeeze the sensible skin, pinching it and dragging it with his fingers. “So good.” He whispers. You close your mouth shut, trying your hardest not to make a sound, the guys’ voices echoing through your head.

After he’s done abusing your clit, he moves down to your folds, touching all over them with his wet fingers. He stops at your desperate hole, slowly pushing one finger inside. You close your eyes, your lips parting at the sudden feeling. Your body jerks up automatically as you let out a heavy breath.

As your eyelids connect, they crush two sweet tears in between them.

Jake reaches for the mic, holding it in his palm so the sound muffles. “I barely shoved my finger inside, princess. Stay still.” He says, moving his fingers slowly in and out of you. Your juices run down his knuckles as you sit there on his lap shamefully. You grab onto his shoulder blades, trying your best to stay quiet.

He takes his hand away from the mic, placing it on your thigh instead. He sneaks another finger in, making you leave out a small sound. He looks up at you with his glistening puppy eyes, smiling ever so slightly with the corners of his mouth. He picks up his pace significantly, the feeling of his fingers so deep inside your core making you want to scream right there. If there’s one thing you love about your boyfriend’s physical appearance it HAS to be his hands.

They’re so soft, perfect for holding or.. you know, feeling.

He takes really good care of his hands, specially for you. He makes sure he stays on the top of his hygiene mostly for moments like these. You slowly lean in to give him a quiet kiss, muffling a moan that was forming in the back of your throat. The buds of his fingers rub against the best spot as he curls them inside, making you leave out a louder sound. Luckily his members were preoccupied with the game and didn’t really pay attention to what they heard.

Jake’s eyebrows raised slightly, speeding up even more. You start shaking your head, barely being able to contain yourself anymore. Your poor underwear is stuck to your skin, almost fully wet against it. “J…Jake.. I can’t please.. i… please…” you plead in a faint whisper.

“What’s that, love? tell me clearly.” he says, clearly knowing what you’re about to say but he still loves teasing you for it.

“Gonna cum…. oh m… fucking days. Please. Let me.. cum..” you whisper so slightly again, the sound barely hitting his ears.

“Keep quiet though, i’m letting you finish don’t worry.” he keeps going, massaging your thigh with his other hand. You immediately feel the knot in your stomach unleash with a large gush that spreads down his fingers and onto his sweatpants. You cover your mouth with your hand really tightening your palm on your face.

He smiles in satisfaction, pulling his fingers out to shove them inside his mouth. He licks his fingers to be able to taste you on his tongue, and he finally grabs onto your ass. He gives it a little playful slap before grinding you on him. You manage to calm your high down just to focus on him. You look down at his bulge forming in his now wet stained pants.

Jake has always been hard to take, in other words, he’s just packing. It never demotivated you to take him whole, no matter how much he stretched you out. Even his half-hard dick is hard to grab with one hand. That’s why when you slide his sweatpants off, you smile at him before barely wrapping one hand around his cock. You lazily stroke him to get him rock hard, your wet pussy just patiently waiting right next to it.

“Are you gonna be able to take it?” he looks at you understanding, knowing how before you would end up so stretched out after. You nod your head, sure of your actions this time.

“I can.” you reply. Once he’s fully hard, you trace a finger on the veins on his dick. Each and every one. You lick your lips before letting out a string of saliva fall down his cock, lubricating it a bit before positioning his tip on your hole. You take a deep breath as you sit on him slowly. He stretches you out more and more, and he insists on slowing everything down for you but you were so desperate to have him inside you that you just didn’t care anymore.

He keeps telling you to stop for yourself, to pull out if it’s too much. Instead you shush him, leaning your head back as you let yourself down on him. When you finally take him whole, your body shakes slightly at the feeling. You feel so full right now, so stretched. But there’s no way you’re pulling away.

His members start wondering where he is, and how they keep hearing breathing as he’s not in the game and he’s been missing for so long already. You panic a little upon hearing them ask about Jake but instead you just close your eyes, feeling his tip in your deepest spot.

“Oh fucks… sake. You’re so.. damn huge.” you whisper cry to him. He giggles a bit, only looking at you the whole time. “Let me see you move on it.” he grabs onto your waist gently.

You suck on your bottom lip as you sit back up, then back down on him. You start off with small bounces and somehow it never gets easier, no matter how many times you’ve both done this before. You do go slow for your own good, and he lets you go at your own pace.

He admires your pretty face contorting in all ways to his dick, but that just might be his favourite part. He loves how you react. You try your best picking up your pace, figuring he might’ve gotten bored already.

But it was the exact opposite, he didn’t mind, he wanted you to feel comfortable. You grind yourself on him a bit faster and he lets out a groan. “You’re so tight around me.. sweetheart..” he thinks he hasn’t stretched you out enough beforehand. “We can.. do it..” you say, already out of breath.

You spread your legs a bit more, releasing a bit of tension on him. You succeed bouncing on his big cock, whilst using his shoulders as handles. “You’re taking it so good..” he whispers. You go faster at his praises.

He’s been stretching you out for a while now, and it definitely got easier over time. The slight discomfort turned into satisfying pleasure for you. His swollen tip hits your g-spot every single time, making you want to cum right there. However, he’s been wanting to finish ever since you started. You feel so good wrapped around him he’s surprised he hasn’t let out a moan yet.

He rests his head on the chair enjoying your every move on him. You go faster again, getting closer to cumming again. Your puffy cunt is crying at this point, while you let out a slight moan with every bounce.

At this point his friends might’ve caught on, but you couldn’t care less, you just needed him and that’s it. You keep going for a bit before, before rolling your eyes back to cum. “I’m— again… I… oh m… Jake..” you struggle.

You don’t get to say anything else because you instantly finish again, your thighs shaking on top of him. You moan ever louder than before and your squirt runs down his legs now. He bites his lower lip, making you keep going with his palms on your ass. Your tired body keeps bouncing on him, and after a few more bounces, he cums all deep inside you. His dick twitches in sync with his moans after pulling out. His cum slowly pours out of you and onto the chair. You both sit like that for a few minutes to regain your thoughts, but instead he just grabs your ass again, shoving you back onto his cock.

A bit of cum shoves back into you too, a white ring forming around his base. You wrap your arms around his neck, as well as your head buried deep into it. You give his hot skin multiple kisses with heavy breaths. You both end up sweaty, breathing your lungs out. He keeps his dick inside you, without moving you or anything. He moves his chair back to his desk, getting that headset off you. Before placing it on his head, he gives your exposed ear a kiss. “Such a good girl, you took me so well.” he says before putting his headset back on and fixing his mic to his mouth.

“Hey guys, sorry I was gone for so long. Just wanted to make my girl happy.”

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Mic’d Up Mayhem

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x !USC girlfriend Reader

Rating: General (Fluff, Light Angst, Competitive Banter)

Fandom: Women’s College Basketball (USC & UConn)

Summary: In a highly anticipated USC vs. UConn matchup, you and Juju are mic’d up alongside Paige and Jana. Only to be mic’d up for both games against each other.... and everyone is enjoying the show

“Alright, y’all,” Juju grinned, adjusting her mic pack as we stretched at midcourt. “Let’s give the people a show.”

“Oh, I plan to.” I smirked, shooting a look across the court where Paige was going through layup drills.

Paige caught my stare, smirking right back before launching a perfect three-pointer. She didn’t even watch it go in. Show-off.

“You always do when she’s around,” Juju teased under her breath.

I nudged her. “Shut up.”

Jana jogged by, adjusting her mic. “Y’all are disgusting already. Game hasn’t even started.”

“Jealous, El Alfy?” I teased.

Jana rolled her eyes. “Let’s see if you’re still talking when I send your shot into the stands.”

“Try it.”

Paige, apparently always listening even if mid conversation with Ice, called from across the court, “Babe, you’re not getting past Jana.”

I gasped. “You’re supposed to support me!”

“I do—just not when you’re lying to yourself, or going against me and fam.”

Juju cackled. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

From the second the game started, Paige and I couldn’t shut up.

“Nice pass, baby,” Paige taunted after I barely got the ball past her defense.

I grinned, catching the ball again. “You want an assist? I can pass you my number.”

Paige snorted. “I have your number, loser. And you text me every five minutes.”

Juju cut in. “She’s not lying.”

I whipped my head around. “Girl, whose side are you on?”

“The side that wins,” Juju shot back, sinking a jumper, sending a wink at me as we moved back to being defense.

Jana jogged past, clapping. “But not for long.”

By halftime, it was a battle.

Paige hit a smooth pull-up jumper over me, then winked. “Too slow, babe.”

I exhaled sharply. “You want me to start playing for real, huh?”

Paige just grinned. “Try it.”

So, I did.

The next time Paige drove to the basket, I bodied her up. Legal contact—barely—but she stumbled.

“Damn,” Paige laughed, catching her balance. “Didn’t know my girl was this aggressive.”

Juju clapped beside me. “Oh, we love it.”

“Don’t hype her up,” Paige groaned.

Jana called, out just before trying to set up a screen for Paige. “She doesn’t need hype. She’s cooking us already, P.”

Paige raised a brow at me. “Oh, word ? Do less talking and more defense Jana.”

I winked. “Love you, baby”

She smirked. “Love you more, I guess.”

Juju fake gagged. “GOD, we get it. You’re in love.”

The game was tight—UConn and USC trading buckets down to the final minutes.

I had the ball at the top of the key, trying to shake Jana off me. She was locked in, waiting for me to drive.

I hesitated, then went for it—big mistake.

Jana timed it perfectly, swatting my shot into the stands. But my momentum was off, and as I landed, my foot twisted awkwardly.

Pain shot through my ankle. “Shit.”

Before I could even process it, Paige was there.

She dropped down beside me, pushing past the trainers. “Baby, you okay?”

I hissed, clutching my ankle. “I—I think so.”

Juju kneeled beside me, concern all over her face. “That looked rough, man.”

Jana hovered behind her, guilt flashing in her eyes. “I—I, you good.”

I shook my head quickly. “It was clean, Jana. Just bad luck.”

Paige, however, was not focused on the play. She was brushing sweaty strands of hair from my forehead, scanning my face like I’d just been shot.

“Babe, you’re scaring me,” I muttered, as she and Juju helped me stand.

Paige exhaled. “Sorry, sorry. Just—you good?”

I nodded. “I’ll live.”

And then, as I fix my semi untucked jersey, my mic pack fall out, the realization hit all of us.

Juju’s eyes widened. “Wait—”

Jana cursed. “Shit, we’re mic’d up.”

I froze.

Paige paled.

The entire arena had just heard us being disgustingly in love.

I covered my face. “Oh my God.”

I managed to play the final minute—adrenaline doing most of the work. With two seconds left, I sank a cold-blooded three, sealing USC’s 80-78 win.

The crowd exploded.

Paige was visibly annoyed, but she still smiled as I limped toward her in the handshake line.

“Good game,” I teased, taking her hand.

She smirked. “You owe me.”

I shrugged. “How about a kiss?”

Paige blinked. “Right here, ma ya sure?”

I grinned, tugging her forward. “Why not? Everybody already heard us acting like lovesick idiots.”

And with that, I kissed her.

It wasn’t long—just enough for the cameras to catch it, for the crowd to roar, for our teammates to lose their minds.

Paige pulled back, dazed. “You’re insane.”

“You love it.”

She chuckled. “Yeah… I do.”

Before I even got to the locker room good, my phone was blowing up.

Juju ran up beside me, showing me her screen. “Bro, look.”

Twitter (X, whatever) was exploding:

@NCAAWNation: Paige Bueckers & Y/N mic’d up while trash talking/flirting is everything I didn’t know I needed

@USChoops: NOT THEM FORGETTING THEY HAD MICS ON LMAO

@WNBAFuture: Juju’s reaction when she realized they were mic’d up is sending me

And then, TikTok.

Clips of our mic’d-up moments were everywhere. Paige saying love you more, me calling her a flirty menace, her full-on panic when I got hurt—TikTok was eating it up.

And, of course, the kiss.

Jana walked by, shaking her head. “Y’all are ridiculous.”

Paige just grinned, wrapping an arm around me. “Jealous, El Alfy?”

Jana groaned. “so glad she kicked your ass not gonna lie,”

Paige smirked down at me. “Eh. I got the real win right here, plus she kicked OUR ass by two points.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re so corny.”

She kissed my temple. “And..”

I barely had time to shower before Paige was waiting outside my locker room, arms crossed, smug as hell.

“You’re taking me to dinner,” she declared, leaning against the doorframe.

I scoffed, finishing the knot on my hoodie. “I’m taking you?”

She smirked. “You kissed me in front of an entire arena, babe. Least you can do is buy me a burger.”

Juju appeared at my side, throwing an arm over my shoulder. “I vote we all go. Y/N paying.”

I groaned. “Why am I paying?”

Jana, walking by, answered without stopping. “’Cause, it'll be pitty dinner to the looser, name Paige.”

Paige cackled. “ouch, but she’s got a point.”

So, somehow, I ended up at a late-night diner with Paige, Juju, and half of our teammates from both teams. The game had been electric, but the real fun? Watching Paige smugly take sips of her milkshake while everyone talked about the mic’d-up chaos.

“You really forgot?” Aubey grinned, nudging Paige.

Paige didn’t even blink. “I was focused on my girl.”

Juju fake gagged into her fries. “I want a refund on my ears.”

I rolled my eyes, flicking a fry at Paige. “You were focused on trash-talking me.”

“And look where it got me,” she smirked. “victory in trash talking milkshake.”

Jana cut in. “Barely. If Juju had missed that shot, it was OT.”

Juju lifted her fork like a mic. “I never miss.”

Paige side-eyed her. “I’ll remember that.”

She was already plotting her revenge for our next match up in two weeks.

The people wanted more, so here we were. UConn vs. USC, round two. Except this time, Paige was locked in. Less flirting. More trash talk.

“I hope you stretched, babe,” I teased, adjusting my mic pack.

Paige grinned. “I hope you practiced your jump shot.”

Juju and Jana exchanged looks. “Here we go again, just dont forget we're mic’d up y'all.”

Paige was relentless.

Every time I touched the ball, she was in my space. I barely got off a shot before she smacked it away.

“Not today, mamas,” she taunted, wagging a finger.

I groaned. “You’re so annoying.”

Juju, running past, laughed. “Says the one who spent the last game flirting.”

Paige just smirked. “I can do both.”

She proved it by stealing the ball from me, driving downcourt, and sinking a three.

I put my hands on my hips, before doing a quick check ball with Juju. “Show-off.”

Paige jogged backward, smirking. “I know.”

Once down the court and getting reader to take the shot for a 2, Paige blocked me again. I swear, she was on a mission.

“That’s three.” She held up fingers. “You good, babe?”

I groaned. “I will be when I get past you.”

“Manifesting, huh?”

Juju clapped beside me. “She needs something, cause gurl you could have made that way before her block.”

I deadpanned. “Y’all suck.”

Jana shouted from the paint, “You still haven’t scored on her, by the way.”

Paige grinned. “Thank you, Jana.”

I glared at them both, Juju snorted. “She’s salty.”

I managed to shake Paige on a screen and hit a floater over Jana.

Paige sighed dramatically. “Congrats, babe. You’re on the board.”

I flipped my hair. “You’re just mad I scored, and it wasn'tagainst you.”

Paige grinned. “Nah, I’ll just drop a three on you next possession.”

And she did.

The game was tight, but UConn pulled ahead. Paige hit back-to-back threes, then turned to me with the smuggest grin.

I rolled my eyes. “Alright, Steph Curry.”

Paige shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”

Desperate, I went for my own three. I followed my form, watched the ball arc—and bricked.

Paige cackled. “Babe.”

I groaned. “Don’t.”

She jogged past, patting my shoulder. “What did I tell you about following your shot?”

Juju, chimed in. “Hate to agree, but Bueckers is right, gotta stick the form and follow ya shot girly”

I roll my eyes , “Judea, who's side are you on bro.”

We fought hard as we could, but it's wasn’t enough. UConn won by six, 90-84 and I was annoyed. Paige, however, was thriving.

She found me in the handshake line, tilting her head. “Dinner’s on me, ma.”

I groaned, softly. “Yeah your turn to get me pitty dinner.”

She grinned. “Love you too, baby.”

I sighed. “You’re so obnoxious.”

Paige leaned in, voice low. “Yeah, but you keep coming back for more.”

She wasn’t wrong.

Another night, another viral moment. This time, Twitter was roasting me.

@NCAAWNation: Paige blocking Y/N three times in a row and then hitting a three on her is top-tier entertainment.

@USChoops: NOT Y/N BRICKING A THREE RIGHT AFTER PAIGE HIT ONE

@WNBAFuture: I need these two mic’d up forever.

@lil_paigey.p: hope no trouble in paradise for those two later...

And, of course, Paige had zero sympathy.

She FaceTimed me that night, grinning. “Had fun?”

I groaned. “I’m blocking your number.”

She smirked. “No, you’re not.”

And, of course, she was right. “But no, good game, P. You did an amazing job”

Looking in the camera with a soft smile, “You fought, hard baby and I'm proud of you for that.” she said as she propped her phone up as she entered the fortnite lobby, with Juju.

---

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[captain-huggy-bear]

Ain't That a Kick in the Head

Pairing: Clayton Keller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Nudity but in a totally non-sexual way (you share a bath)

Summary: You watch Clayton take a puck to the face, suffice to say you are very much worried for your boyfriend at the end of the game.

Notes: Y'know someone needs to psychoanalyse why I thought it was so hot that he took a puck to the face, got 12 stitches, came out, played and still scored? Someone want to explain that one to me?

I've not written Clayton before but @wannabehockeygf has me hooked so...I hope this is okay?

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

"...that one up high caught Keller, let's hope Clayton is okay...he took that one right up in the face and he's headed to the room for some stitches I would imagine..."

"Keller's girlfriend has stood straight up from her seat, clearly not happy with what she's seen."

"Can you blame her? Keller's just taken a puck straight to the face and I imagine he's going to have more than a couple of stitches to fix that..."

It's an instinctive reaction really, to jump out of your seat at the way the puck soars into Clayton's face, the way he spins and falls to the ice. The blood that you can see pooling underneath his hand as he holds it tight to his eye and brow.

You've seen him get hurt before, seen him take hits to the boards, hits from other players, pucks to the ribs, sticks to the legs, but this...fuck, this was dangerous, this was scary. You're thankful for your seat overlooking the tunnel, thankful that you can reach a hand down as he makes his way off the ice, that even as he clutches a towel to his face to mop up the blood and try to stem the bleeding, he sees you, and reaches out briefly to touch your fingers, an attempt to reassure you that he's okay. That he'll be fine because fuck he knows you're probably freaking out about it.

Then all you can do is sit back down in your seat and wait. Waiting for him to come back out made you feel sick, stomach tied in knots, leg bouncing up and down in anxious impatience. Was he concussed? Was he in need of hospital? Or would it just be a few stitches to stop the bleeding? Had it done any serious damage to his skull? Was he actually okay? Was it just a flesh wound or something deeper?

It was taking too long, far too long, your eyes not even on the game, but on the tunnel waiting for him to reappear, watching people come and go back and forth each one not Clayton. Still you waited for that reappearance.

And reappear he did. Brow coated in blood, 12 stitches holding his face together, swollen, bruising planning it's spots as he stops at your section, looking up at you from the tunnel as you look down.

Your hand reaches out again and this time he holds it properly, fingers intertwining with yours to give your palm a tight squeeze, his ring digging into your skin slightly from how firmly he grips you. Like he needs to reassure you he's still strong, still good even as a blood drip starts to slide from the fresh stitches towards his eye.

"I'm okay, sweet girl," His voice is rough from overuse on the ice and he doesn't linger long, but it's enough to reassure you that he's at least fine, even if his face looks like he's been through the wars.

It's enough for you in that moment, enough for you to let his hand go, to watch him make his way to the bench even as that sick feeling still permeates your gut.

You spend the entirety of the second period watching him like a hawk, assessing to see if he should actually be out on the ice or not, relieved to see him skating well, stable, sturdy. Despite the physical wound he doesn't seem unwell and that is enough to settle you down a little, enough for you to start to enjoy the third period.

An enjoyment that is made 10 times better by Clay's empty net goal firmly confirming Utah's victory over the Winnipeg Jets. The moment the period is over and the players have left the ice you don't waste much time before making your way down to the locker rooms, leaning against the wall and waiting for Clayton to clean up and change.

He's out last, Kess stops to tell you he's just getting some of his stitches redone, and while you appreciate the heads up from the taller man it actually only serves to make you more anxious to see your boyfriend.

When he walks out he looks like he's been through the wars or been mugged badly or had a bad boxing match. New stitches means no quick shower, no water on them for at least a day and he still looks bloody, sweaty and definitely not okay. You can't imagine how uncomfortable he was putting his suit back on when he couldn't even have a proper wash, sweat causing his clothes to stick to his skin. Clayton's always been a stickler for cleanliness and you know he probably feels disgusting, probably hates it almost as much as the injury itself.

"Shit, Clay..." You gasp at seeing his face up close, his eye is bruising into a proper shiner, closing a little from all the swelling that's happening. The skin around starting to go a deep purple. There's an array of angry stitches holding his skin together, 12 to be exact, lined up neatly but clearly the only thing stopping more blood from falling down his face. They've clearly tried to clean as much of the old blood up as possible, but there's still enough left over that he looks rough around the edges.

"Right in the money maker, huh? It's okay if you think I'm ugly now, baby.." He's joking around as he steps into your space, trying to take that god awful look off your face. You look like you've seen a ghost, like you might be sick.

"Clay..." You reach for him as he leans over you, one arm leaning against the wall by your head, while your own hands cup his cheeks tilting his head so you can get a better look at his stitches.

"Sorry, sorry, just tryin' to get my girl to smile s'all..."

"I know..." He lets you get your fill, moving his head in whatever direction you tilt it while his free hand grips your hip. He wants you to believe he's fine but he knows you won't believe him, and in truth it fucking hurts taking a puck to the face. He's surprised he doesn't have a concussion. He feels a little sick, very gross and his face aches like nothing else.

"Clay...What do you need?" You, he thinks, just this. Just the soft way your thumbs brush his cheeks and tenderness with which you cradle his face, like he's not 170lbs of hockey player. He's not delicate and he knows that, you know that, but sometimes you treat him that way and it's nice sometimes. Nice to feel cared for.

He doesn't say any of that though, instead lets out a big sigh, "I need to go home, wash at least my body because I actually feel fucking gross..." He's still sweaty and he knows he needs help washing his hair without getting water on his stitches.

"Okay, I'm driving." You're reaching for his keys in pocket as quick as a whip, but he's quicker. Clayton's hand wrapping entirely around your wrist and stopping it from delving further into his pocket.

"You're not driving my car, baby. No." There's no amount of injury that could bring him to let you drive when that's his job and the grin he gives you is the sort you give a child who thinks they know better. It makes your eyes narrow.

"Clay, you took a puck going like 80 miles per hour to the face..."

"And I can still drive, and you are still and forever my passenger princess." It's not that he doesn't trust you to drive. You're a pretty decent driver, but that's not the dynamic you have. He drives you around. Always. If he can't then you drive yourself, but if both of you are in a car together? He's driving and you get to sit, relax and look pretty.

"You're impossible." You roll your eyes but concede defeat, pulling your hand from his pocket even as he continues to grip your wrist like now that he's got it the thought of letting go is preposterous.

"Impossibly handsome." Clay's hand moves from your wrist to slip into your own, fingers twisting together as he pulls away from the wall with you. His other hand tossing his car keys about with a jingling sound.

"Impossible hard headed."

"Ouch, that hurts, sweet girl." He finally gets a smile from you at that and that's all he wants as the two of you walk hand in hand to his car. If he's got to deal with stitches, bruising, swelling, then at least he gets to see you smile.

"Did it hurt more than the puck you took to the face tonight?"

"You're determined to not let me forget this aren't you?" He asks as he opens the passenger side door, watching you slip into the pristine seats because he'd be damned if he ever let his car fall into disarray.

You're quiet for a few moments as he leans over you to pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it into place. It's the proximity of him to you that's probably the only reason he actually hears your next whispered words as you look at your hands in your lap.

"...I was really worried, Clay..."

Clayton sighs heavily, large hand cupping your cheek until you look at him. You grip his wrist, fingers playing with the array of bracelets he always has there.

"I know, baby, but I'm okay. I promise. Got some stitches, no concussion, I'll be a little ugly for a bit but..." All Clay ever wants is for you to be happy, the worst part about getting hurt is that he knows you're stressing about. He's fine, but he knows he looks like he's gone 10 rounds with Mike Tyson and he'll probably look like that for awhile. He also knows you worry, and you'll worry over him until he looks completely back to normal.

"You could never be ugly," He smiles at the way you frown at him, like it's the worst thing he could do right now to insult himself, "You're just fishing for compliments." Your eyes soften under his smile and the frown loses some of its bite.

"You're the one biting, sweet girl."

"Shut up and drive us home."

"As you wish." Clayton presses a quick kiss to your lips, pulling out of the passenger side and closing the door on you. He's quick to make his way round to the driver's side and even quicker to get the car started so he can start driving back to the house.

You watch him the whole time, eyes fliting from the stitches in his eyebrow to the way his left eye is swelling to the point you don't know if he'll be able to see out of it in a minute if you don't get ice on it. Clayton chooses to ignore the staring, hand reaching out to rest on your thigh, rubbing warm strokes across it as he drives, like always.

When you pull up you wait, like always, in your seat because Clay complains if he can't open the door for you and unbuckle your seatbelt. So you wait and let him do it, just as you let him wrap an arm around your shoulders and led you inside as if you're the one that needs the TLC and not him.

You only briefly watch him struggle out of the suit he'd worn to the game before stepping in to help. The medical team not letting him wash had meant his shirt and trousers stuck to him from all the sweat left on his skin, and the extra pair of hands was helpful as he shrugged off the button up he'd been wearing.

He lets you lead him into the bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet seat and watching as you fuss around the bath tub. You're running him a bath even though you know he prefers showers because there's no way those stitches are staying dry in the shower, not with his ridiculous need for the most intense waterfall shower on earth.

Still, Clayton watches as you try to make the bath more enticing. Copious amounts of bubble bath, the sort that's designed for sore muscles, being thrown in, water running warm, but not too hot because he doesn't like his bath water to be as hot as the fires of hell. Unlike you. But, he draws the line at you helping him into water, it's his face that hurts not his legs, shrugging your hands away with an eyeroll when you go to reach to help him.

"I can get in on my own, baby."

He doesn't let the fussing annoying him because he knows you fuss out of concern and that any amount of fussing is still your attention on him. Fussing means you love him and if you took a puck to the face he knows he'd be fussing over you too.

You watch as Clayton eases himself into the water, a sigh rippling out from him as he slides into the warmth. His chains hitting the water because he'd never wear anything that wasn't solid enough not to tarnish over time, expensive taste as always. You watch the way he closes his eyes and just relaxes for a minute, skin turning slightly flush under the warmth of the water, neck pulled taut as his head tips back.

"You want me to help wash your hair?"

"Please, baby." It's sighed out, eyes still closed and you kneel next to the tub without a second thought, urging him to move forward and lean back until his hair touches the water.

You're careful about it, slowly wetting his hair, trying to avoid getting water on his stitches and while he might not want to be fussed over, this though? This Clayton can't help but love. The way your fingers thread through his brunet strands, how you stop occasionally to scratch at his scalp, the feeling of sweat and grime falling away? This is pretty much heaven.

You huff a laugh when Clayton groans a little while you massage shampoo into his roots. The pressure you apply making him sigh and groan like you're relieving knots in his back and it's sweet, how he can relax into this, into you, when he's normally the one giving and doesn't necessarily prefer to receive the care.

"You good, Clay?"

"Mmmm...." He hums and you smile down at him, the way he leans back into your hands, how his eyes remain closed, the content little smile on his face that just slightly shows his teeth.

You take extra care as you rinse the shampoo from his hair thoroughly, avoiding his stitches and his eyes as you do so, before getting him to sit up a little so you can place some conditioner on the ends.

"Get in with me..." His eyes are heavy lidded, like he doesn't quite have the energy to open them the entire way, a wet hand reaching out to grip your fingers, tugging lightly.

"Clay, there's barely any room left." His legs take up half the tub, you're a little concerned that you plus water displacement will result in water all over the floor of the bathroom. Another injury waiting to happen when one of you inevitably slips on wet tile.

"Please, just want to hold you for a bit, no funny business, sweet girl, promise." His cheeky little smirk that shows the dimples on one side of his mouth doesn't exactly fill you with confidence in his words, but the water is still warm and there's something always enticing about Clay, he has a way of convincing you to do something even if you shouldn't.

"Mmm, sounds likely..."

"Seriously, just want to hold you...I'm an injured man..." He pulls the guilt trip card, biting on his bottom lip. Something which would have looked sexier if half his face wasn't swollen up like a balloon. Still, you've never been good at saying no to Clayton even if you probably should from time to time.

"Fine..." You sigh, pretending to be reluctant even as you strip your clothes off, ignoring the way his eyes light up like a kid in a candy store, and step into the bath water with him.

It's a little tight, the water rising to levels that are mildly concerning before the overflow drain does the job of removing the excess water. Your legs twine with Clayton's and his arms slide around your waist until he can pull you comfortably back to lay against him, your back to his chest. It's funny, how you can be completely naked and feel completely comfortable like this with someone, every little touch is comforting rather than sexual, every kiss to your shoulder an attempt to be connect to you rather than start something intimate.

"Clay?" You wince out, the sensation of metal digging into your back causing you to squirm slightly in his lap, water sloshing nearer to the sides of the tub.

"Mmm...?"

"Can...can you move your chains? They're digging into my shoulder."

"Shit, sorry, baby." He's quick to do so, the chains being thrown over his shoulder and out of the way until settling against him is more comfortable, the rise and fall of his chest meeting your back in a rhythm that helps any residual anxiety from the events of the day melt away.

"You comfy, sweet girl?" He presses a kiss to your temple and you smile into it, humming as you lean as much of your weight back into him as you can.

"Yeah, you?"

"Mmm, might have to stay here..." He's tracing circles on you tummy, a series of circles that meet in a variety of patterns that remind you of crop circles from all those conspiracy theory and unsolved mystery shows Clay likes to watch when he can't sleep. Every few seconds a kiss lands somewhere else, whether your temple, your cheek, your neck or your shoulder. Each is quick and soft, but no less delightful. It's all so soft, the world feels like its humming a little.

"The water'll get cold."

"Good thing I run warm..." He tries to argue with you, like always, a sassy little remark to entice you to stay in the moment even if neither of you can.

"Clay, we're not staying in here all night, we'll die of pneumonia or something."

"Would be worth it." He grins into your shoulder, eyes relaxing when you reach a hand back to scratch his scalp and play with his hair. He's tired, so fucking tired and his face still aches like a bitch but this is nice, this so nice.

"We should really get some ice on your face, try and take some of the swelling down."

"Do we have to?" The idea of putting ice on his face right now is anything but appealing, but he knows you're right. His face is already pretty swollen and bruised and it's only going to get worse if he doesn't look after it.

"Do you want to be able to see from your left eye in the morning?"

"Good point, just...5 more minutes, baby?"

"5 more minutes." You let him have his 5 more minutes and then some, using the time to get clean yourself and rinse conditioner from his hair before the two of you stand from the bath after the water has cooled significantly.

He's sat crossed legged on the bed in a cosy hoodie and boxers by the time you've put together a makeshift icepack, ice piled up into a ratty old tea towel you got when you first moved out.

The look he gives the icepack is nothing short of disdainful, a glare that's combined with a pout of his top lip like the icepack has personally offended him already when it hasn't even touched him. If anyone should glare it's you because your hands are getting cold.

"The only way that is touching my face is if you're sat in my lap, sweet girl." He pats his thighs like its a given, like you'll just go over and plonk yourself down without question.

"You already agreed to ice your face, Clayton John Keller." Your hands find your hips, a stance Clayton calls your mom stance and it's extra apt when you're using his full name like that. Not that that deters him from his goal of having you wrapped up on his lap because that's the only thing that might make ice to the face semi-bearable.

"Only if you sit in my lap."

"That is not the original agreement."

"Yeah, well, trade talks, deals get renegotiated all the time." He shrugs with a smirk, pulling out the dimples because he knows you struggle to be stubborn when he does that and as much as you hate it...he's fucking charming and it works. You're sighing and stomping over like you're not totally endeared by him, letting him pull you up and onto his lap without any real protest until your legs are wrapped around his waist, your butt sat perfectly in the hollow created by him sitting crisscrossed.

"You are incredibly difficult to care for, Mr Keller." You grumble as you cup his face with one hand and raise the makeshift icepack to his eye with the other.

"Can you really deny an injured man small comforts like his girlfriend in his lap?" His smirk only widens until it doesn't, a hiss leaving his lips at the way it pulls on his stitches as his eyebrow moves.

"Mmm, you're ridiculous." You're smiling when you say it and that alone lets Clayton know that you're enjoying this as much as him.

He hisses again when the cold finally touches his skin, almost jerking back but your hand on his cheek stops him from going very far. The icepack is cold, so fucking cold, and he knows you're going to force it to stay there until you're satisfied that some of the swelling has gone down. You're cruel like that.

Clayton's hands fall to your hips, fingers clenching and gripping onto you, not painfully, but firmly enough that you know he hates this, hates the sensation of ice on his skin even if there's a tea towel in between.

You try to make it as bearable as possible, pressing kisses to the right side of his face even as the left faces the terrible ordeal of icing. The kisses have Clayton humming, hands stroking from your hips to your waist and back down again in a rhythmic motion that brings back memories of every make out session you've ever had with the man, and that you wouldn't be having until you were certain his face wasn't swollen and bruised.

When you finally pull the icepack away his face is less swollen, eye still partially closed, but no less bruised, you know the purple is going to eventually fade to a horrible yellow. You throw the damp tea towel into the laundry basket from where you're sat, excellent aim that has you letting out a little cheer that gets Clayton smiling up at you.

"Thank you, sweet girl, always taking care of me..." He presses a kiss to your lips, short and sweet, only because you refuse to let him stay there too long, determined to let the man rest.

"Yeah, well, you're always taking care of me too."

[midnite-c6]

Please please please please, Kim Seo-wan smutty smut... Ever since I read your Seo-wan x Reader I couldn't help but fall in love with that man more than I already was, so... PLS. if it doesn't maik ya uncomfortable obvs (⁠｡⁠•́⁠‿⁠•̀⁠｡"). ((TAKE UR TIME!))

YAYAYSYXTDGEGSYT I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO WANTED TO LET HIM INN BYE ugh i want him (respectfully) added squid game tags since most of you guys watched ddos cuz of roh jae won and i want other ppl to see his role here! <3

kim seo-wan nsfw headcanons <3 || warnings: 18+, cunnilingus, fingering, fluff

∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠° first of all, his daily routine consists of studying, gaming, and being schizophrenic making him not have time for all those romantic, especially physical affection kinda stuff, so you have to convince and show him! it wouldn't be difficult, he's still a guy after all, let alone a guy who plays those "gooner" type of games, and to put it simply: he's a virgin.

when he starts dating you, he'd add a new lesson to his routine: porn. he's already failing his other exams, he doesn't wanna fail you!

no bias guys, but he is a touchy dude, and a kissy one at that. your lips are his revival potion, the taste of your lips is healing his whole being, same goes for your other set of lips, when he found out you make cute cute sounds while he eats you out and make out with your cunny? oh he has defeated that dragon. damn. "y...you like it here, right?" he'd take a small kitten lick on your clit, making a soft moan elicit your lips. his hands on both sides of your waist, holding onto you tightly as if you'd run away from him. "mhm.. there's good.. s'good." he's happy for your praise, lapping his tongue up and down faster, you could feel him mumble a mantra of "you're s'..yummy.." against you, you were so tasty, he loved it so much. he wouldn't even take off his small circle-framed glasses, being pushed all the way to the bridge of his nose. "ah... seo-wan..♡" you could feel the metal frame hit your twitching clit, it was a different kind of feeling.

when you guys are finally comfy, you both know study dates are cute n' all. he'd have his headset on, listening to music, a hand to flip the textbook's pages, and his other arm to be hooked around your waist, holding you securely. you'd be doing whatever too, you liked his company anyway. but whenever studies get stressful and hectic, he won't lose the chance to grope your soft tits, they're the best stress relievers after all. he's definitely a boob guy. "ah.. y/n. move closer, please? .. need ..easier.. access.." i fear he is very touchy, clingy, he doesn't want to let you go.

cosplays!! oh, when you guys save enough money, he absolutely loves to do cosplays with you! he's very grateful your character has little to no clothes, he'd savour your body everytime it's spread on his bed and would treat you like a princess for real. tell him he's super duper strong, it will make him cum in seconds. :< probably accidentally rips off your expensive cosplay too, makes you mad, obviously, but will fuck you as a consolation prize.

he's more of a giver than a receiver, he just wants you to be happy and pleased all the time! ...also makes you overstimulated every session. his fav part on himself is his hands, he knows how fond you are to them, foreplay always takes long because his fingers are stretching your poor hole for hours <3.

again, he barely has the time to do full-on sessions, but when he does, he's gonna make you a squirting mess. holding hands while fucking is sooo real <3.

"mmfh.. don't leave me, okay? stay.." he 'reminds' you, slowly pushing his dick back inside your hole, his thumb pressed firmly on your clit, how were you gonna leave him anyway? he was holding onto you like you'd escape! "i.. won't seo-wannnn..." "ahh... good girl... my healer..." he whispers, kissing you softly, his mind is definitely in another world right now, atleast you're in it. (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

someone requested seo-wan x patient!reader so I AM GONNA FO THAT NEXT HELL YEAH

[asksonicverse]

You dont need to answer but I just wanted to tell you I adore Paradox being like "I hate all of them except" and then listing everyone except like 2 guys, honey you don't hate *all* of them you expressly don't hate *most of them*

Extremely charming characterization i adore it

[Creator Special number 2!]

So glad someone noticed that, I was originally going to have him name EVERYONE except Boost but then I was like “nah, Mania is just too annoying for Paradox to tolerate him”

And thanks! I’m trying to be… consistent with my characterization of each of them and stay in line with canon but like… URGH sometimes I want to deviate so bad just to indulge but I resist!

Needless to say tho, prism is probably going to get more affectionate later on. Rewatched Sonic Prime again and bro is a cutie patootie!

Headcanons… headcanons… hmm

Well, starting with the obvious, Paradox goes to therapy as I’ve mentioned which I think is hilarious. He and Lance are the only Shadows who really have their shit together which is why I think Sonadow works well for them? (we stan healthy relationships guys)

I do head canon that Eight doesn’t like being touched really at all anymore. After the metal virus, he grew so used to the fact that he couldn’t touch anyone that it sorta just stuck. He does it to save people, but not anything more. :(

And while I’m a sucker for the Trans Sonic HC I decided not to implement it in this particular AU!

I really want to include Captain Sonic and Shadow, but I haven’t played nor watched a serious play through of the game. (I’ve only really listened to a bit of the Snapcube dub..)

can someone tell me if Shadow is a Barista or a Mechanic in that game btw?? I google it, nothing pops up. I could’ve sworn there was something about a mechanic.

Uhh I LOVE Sonic Frontiers, fire game. If I include that one, it’ll ALSO be Sonamy since I’m pretty sure that game takes place before SA2 in canon?

I’m trying to keep the Sonics and Shadows balanced but I’d love to add Generations Shadow and Sonic. Just thinking of names already I get “Doom” for Shadow and “Emerald” for Sonic. (Referencing the fake emerald from their interaction in the shadow story)

Unfortunately I haven’t seen the Archie comics or Sonic Underground so I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

Someone also asked about if I’d ever include different AU’s: maybe if those AU creators gave me permission I’d be down to do a collab for a few asks or something!

Nope!

I dunno I just..! … how do I do? I’m fast. And you’re slow. That’s how I did it. /ref

Ahahah just kidding! But I am very fast. A few years ago I convinced myself I was a “slow drawer” because I was in a discord server with someone I looked up to (and holy cheese they could draw out fully articulate sketches in like 30 seconds!)

So I got insecure and taught myself to draw really fast. So now I just.. zoom! This does have a terrible draw back where I will very frequently forget smaller details.

Like if you look at half the posts, Shadow is missing his eyeliner and other markings frequently.

THIS IS JUST HILARIOUS TO ME YOU GUYS. PLEASE—

I’ve gotten SO many asks in my box about using Maria to calm the Shadows down or trying to give Shadows “Maria plushies”

Imagine you’re having a bad day and you get a plushie of your dead sibling thrown at you??? LMFAOOOO

I CANT I CANT I CANT PUT THEM THROUGH THAT 💔 Also I see every single ask.

“Do you all like Latinas” and “sonic which shadow is the hottest/shadow which sonic is the hottest” have all been engraved in my brain

Was joking with a friend on how that second question would come out LMFAOO

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[mayahawkesfirstwife]

Quiet

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Pairings: Se-mi x Fem! Reader

Summary: Eating Se-mi out under the blankets during lights out.

Warnings: Smut, public sex, lowk Sub Se-mi, fingering, oral sex, teasing, etc.

Author Note: Literally seen a post just like this and wanted to make one but longer idk😭 Sorry if theres any mistakes!!

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It was lights out and you were in bed with Se-mi, your girlfriend, in her bed in the corner at the bottom of one of the bunk beds.

She saved your life multiple times through out the games but the most recent time was the most serious.

You felt as if maybe you could repay her for her hard work of saving herself and her girlfriend.

You were laying beside her, glancing over at her, she’s so hot. You felt yourself getting turned on.

“Honey?” You whisper, leaning into her ear.

She was laying on her back with her arm behind her head, eyes shut, she opened them when you called for her and looked over at you.

“What’s wrong?” She whispers.

“I want to repay you…” You hum, quietly into her ear.

“For what?” She whispers, eyebrows furrowed.

“Saving me so much, you’re so sweet…” You smile, kissing her cheek.

You peck her lips, “I’m so turned on, baby.” You whisper, your hand trails down her stomach and to the waistband of her green pants.

She glances around, making sure no one was watching.

There were noises like some whispering, rustling, and snoring so it wasn’t silent which was good.

“Se-mi?”

She looks back at you as you sigh, “I’m so hungry.”

She’s surprised the topic has changed so quickly, yet you’re still playing with her waistband.

She didn’t seem to understand though, “I’m sorry, honey.”

“Can I eat your pussy?” You whisper into her ear, she gasps lightly.

You pout, “Please? Please? I’ll do it so good, I promise.”

She shifts in her spot, “Yes, yes…” She nods repeatedly.

She tugs her green pants and her underwear down to her ankles and you look around before crawling under the blanket between her open legs.

Fuck, she was so wet.

You kiss her right inner thigh and then her left inner thigh, before licking the right one and then sucking on the left.

You move closer and closer, she lifts the blanket sightly, “Don’t tease me.”

She pulls it back down to cover you and you giggle, kissing her clit.

You grip her inner thighs and lick a stripe up her folds to her clit before pulling back. She tastes so fucking sweet.

You do this about five times before her legs tighten around your neck and you kiss her clit, she was dripping wet and ready.

She sighs as your middle and index finger slid slowly into her sopping pussy.

She hisses lowly, you let her adjust before pumping your fingers in and out of her wet pussy.

Wet squelching noises are heard lowly as you push your hair behind your ears before licking up her clit again.

You curl your fingers as you finally start to suck on her clit sloppily.

“Fuck.” She whimpers lowly, you suck harder and she makes more whines, you pinch her thigh and she stops.

Se-mi is staring up at the bunk above her, eyes squeezed shut as you’re sucking her clit so well and finger fucking her wet pussy.

She’s trying so hard not to moan and pull the blankets down and grip your hair and fuck your face.

She moans, whines and whimpers lowly a few times, one whimper was too loud which caused you to pinch her thigh.

She gritted her teeth at the feeling but started to bite down on her lip to keep quiet and gripping the side of the bed.

Under the cover, you are pulling back from her clit to breathe, you lick your lips so her taste could linger.

You curl your fingers over and over and start to flick your tongue on her clit as fast as you could.

You start sucking on her clit and flicking your tongue on it, switching from one to the other every five seconds which drove Se-mi crazy.

She squeezed her thighs around your head, you knew by how she was squeezing around your curled fingers that she was close.

You suck as hard as you can on her clit and curl your fingers just right as she came.

She pants, you pull back after she finished and lick up her juices, trying to clean her up.

She squirmed under you, feeling overstimulated she literally grabs your head and pushes on it with a small whimper.

You lift the blanket and sat beside her, licking your lips and then making sure she watches you as you suck your fingers of all her juices.

“You taste so fucking sweet, Sem…”

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[star2fishmeg]

My sweet Meg, I'm not sure if your requests are open, but I'm just sitting here thinking about Jack coming home to you and you instantly praise him, telling him how well he played as always and he becomes a shy, bumbling mess but then he turns into a cheeky bastard and is all like, "yeah, you think so, pretty girl? Do I happen get a little reward for playing so well today?"

Beloved Brynn! I can finally pay you back with a blurb! And dw, only fic requests are closed, blurbs are open!

A smug smile forms across your lips hearing Jack's bedroom door close, and you peer out from his bathroom, leaning against the doorframe in nothing but his t-shirt and your panties. He doesn't notice you at first, occupied by putting his shoes and suit jacket back in his wardrobe, loosening his tie and putting it back where it belongs. You lean your head against the frame, watching quietly as he assumes you've fallen asleep and left the lamp on for him. To you, it seems weird how little attention he pays when he B-lines for his room, but then again, he's used to just heading straight for the wardrobe rather than searching the bed for you, you're not at his every night yet for him to do that and his brains fried after a game.

"Welcome home, first star of the night." You praise, folding your arms over your chest. He turns around, a warm smile on his face and shuffles towards you, almost surprised, "Looked pretty hot out there tonight, huh?"

"Oh yeah? You watched?" His hands slip under your shirt as usual, wrapping around your waist, yours looping around his shoulders. He steps backwards, guiding you towards the bed, the back of his knees hitting the mattress and he sits, pulling you to straddle his lap.

You brush his hair away from his face, thumb swiping across his bottom lip and cupping his cheeks in your palms. His skin is warm, and his breathing becomes deep and relaxed, hands gliding up to your ribs and down to the waistband of your panties, pulling it back and letting it snap against your skin.

Jack thrives off your praise, it makes his chest warm and stomach flip in pleasant ways knowing his girlfriend thinks he's cool, as he puts it. With hooded eyes, you coo, "Of course I did, would never miss the opportunity to watch you wipe the floor with the other guys. Scored some pretty goals out there tonight."

"Stop it, wasn't that great, m'sure you watched me fall on my face out there." He rolls his eyes and grins, pink flushing to his cheeks and hides in your neck. Goosebumps run over his skin when your hands slide down his nape with gentle touches, lazily wrapping around his shoulders.

"Yet you're still my pretty boy, so don’t hide from me," pulling his face out, your lips trail wet kisses along his jaw and down his neck, swirling your tongue over the sweet spot he always moans at, nipping and giving the skin a small suck until purple blossoms, "you did so well tonight, J. Played so well, and hard work paid off, hm?"

Your hot breath fans over his nerves, hands finding their way to his collar start unbuttoning with your lips still moving along his neck. When his shirt opens, he shrugs it off his shoulders, a rumbly groan falling from his mouth as your fingertips trace over his chest and abs, following every ridge while your lips kiss under his earlobe.

"Princess, stop it, was nothin'-" he can't finish his sentence with your hips rolling over his lap, yet he's grinning with elation hearing how soft and sweet your voice is while praising him. He loves it, he loves it in a way that doesn't inflate his ego but his heart, the recognition that someone - who isn't his family or sports analyst - sees how he has passion for playing and working for the achievement. He wants to make you proud.

You bring your hands back to his shoulders, holding his jaw and forcing him to stop avoiding your gaze and look you in your lovesick eyes, noticing how his are glossed over and may as well have been in the shape of hearts with how dilated his pupils are.

Shivers crawl up your spine in euphoric shockwaves when his thumbs brush under your breasts, hiking your shirt up so he can the most miniscule glace of your hips moving. He can’t explain it but looking you in the eye makes him squirm and shy. He doesn’t get shy, that’s your impact on him.

"Nah, really played your part as alternate captain out there, makin' plays and finding openings, God you're just a bundle of talent, aren't you?" you nibble his earlobe before you press your lips to his, taking his bottom lip between your teeth until he's pulling you in and finding your tongue, lapping and swirling with deep moans reverberating in his chest. "Always playing a huge part in the team, no wonder they love you."

He bucks his hips up into you, one hand cupping your jaw and keeping you close to him, addicted to how you move your mouth against his.

"I think you played your best yet out there, two goals and an assist? That's hot." You mumble against his lips.

"Yeah, you think so, pretty girl? Do I happen to get a little reward for playing so well today?" Your constant grinding with your compliments causes a shift in him, an aching in his dick. He's got that shit-eating grin on his face, and you know what he wants the second his hands move to cup your breasts.

Without breaking eye-contact, you unbuckle his belt, fingers unzipping his fly and drowning in how pretty the way his eyes flutter close when you begin palming his erect cock through his boxers, "If you ask nicely."

"Please, princess? I’ve been good, I’ll be good." He breathes out, lulling his head back, hands kneading your chest and fingers pinching your nipples. You're excited, so excited your stomach feels like it's erupting with butterflies, and you take no hesitation in sliding back and onto your knees. Jack's cocky front crumbles when he finally looks down at you, your eyes doe-like staring up at him and shimmying his slacks and boxers to his ankles. Like the good boy he is, he lets himself go and groans the second your hand wraps around his base.

[writhyv]

⋆｡°✩ jake pulls you into a kissing booth

would you kiss me? | sim jaehyun x male!reader

pairing: jake x male!reader genre: fluff words: 1.8k notes: my first jake fic! honestly wanted to write about him for a long time because he's one of the first guys i saw from enha ... he just has that hot popular kid vibe ... i HAD to make this ... AAAAA ALSO SHOUOUT TO @kaiyunsim! THIS ONE'S FOR YA BRUH

Your days at school began like any other student's. Each day was a repetitive cycle of subjects you had to endure until the semester ended. You had memorized these lessons long ago, yet still found yourself sitting in class, trying to absorb the material. It was exhausting, but deep down, you loved the thrill of academics. School was a place of peace for you, a welcome escape from home, which felt far away. It was a place you cherished, filled with the laughter of friends and the buzz of youthful dreams.

However, if you could choose to be anywhere else, it certainly wouldn't be your school, especially not during the school's founding celebration fair. To make matters worse, your friend had signed you up to help out at your class's assigned booth — the kissing booth.

You rested your head against your hand, manning the busy booth with an aloof gaze. It wasn't that you disliked helping; it was just that you hadn’t volunteered for this. You watched the chaos unfold around you, the energy of the fair buzzing like a live wire. Everywhere you looked, students were laughing, playing games, and enjoying the festivities. But here you were, stationed at the kissing booth, a reluctant participant in this social spectacle.

"Thanks again for helping out!" a classmate chimed in, trying to lift your spirits. His bright smile was infectious, but you only managed a half-hearted nod.

"Ugh... it’s not like I had a choice. Joey signed me up before I could protest," you replied, rolling your eyes.

"Joey did? She's a riot!" your classmate laughed nervously, glancing at you. Your glare silenced him. "Oh! I mean... she's just so... um, enthusiastic, right?"

"It’s for fun!" Joey interjected, crashing into the conversation, her energy palpable. The other student bolted away as if he had just seen a ghost.

"Aren't you allowed to have fun, Mr. President?" Joey turned her gaze to you as she held her hands onto your shoulders.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. Making friends in high school was challenging enough, but when people clung to you like they were your lifeline, things got complicated. Joey had always stuck to you like glue. As you grew to tolerate her presence, she introduced you to 'normal high school things'—experiences you had only read about in books or seen in movies. You felt like you could only refuse her so many times before she'd throw a tantrum.

"Again, it's ACTING president. I've only been called that since the new semester started, okay?" you corrected her, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice.

"Yeah, right. You'll definitely win again if you ever run. It’s your calling!" she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"That’s why I can't be here," you said, standing up, feeling the weight of tiredness settling on your shoulders.

Joey grabbed your arm, pulling you back down. You knew this would happen, but it never hurt to try and escape, right?

"Hey! Not again!" she sighed, exasperated. "You've only been here for two hours! I promised you food, right? Just help out at the booth."

You shot her a glare but couldn't keep the corners of your mouth from twitching upward. "Fine, but I can’t promise I won’t try to escape again. It’s exhausting watching people come in and out of this booth."

Joey looked where you pointed, a smirk growing on her face. "Why? Curious about what happens there?"

You shot her an incredulous look, but she only saw the red flush creeping across your cheeks.

"What?" she defended, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ding ding ding?"

"No one’s interested!" you exclaimed, covering your face in embarrassment. Joey just laughed, the sound ringing like music in the chaos around you.

"Sure! It isn’t a big deal. Not at all~" she sang, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of warmth at her playful attitude.

As you chatted with Joey, a commotion erupted nearby, followed by a wave of cheers.

"Aahh! It's the soccer team!"

"The boys! The boys!"

The crowd erupted as the campus soccer team made their entrance, radiating an undeniable charm. With their impressive recent state champion title win for the nth time, and their unrealistic and striking looks, they were the stars of the event. You could see the excitement in the air, students gushing over their favorite players, the thrill of being close to someone so admired.

One of them, clearly the leader, locked eyes with you and bit his lip. "Hey~" he called out, confidence radiating like a warm sun on a cold day, having brushed his hair back, a gesture that seemed to send the crowd into a frenzy.

You blinked, looking to your side. "Uh... who are you talking to?" You felt your heart race, unsure if he was really addressing you. "Me?"

The guy grinned, stepping closer, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. "Oh definitely. You're really adorable up close, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, convinced this must be one of those pranks online. But he didn’t back down; instead, he moved closer to your ticket table, his presence both thrilling and intimidating.

"Ahem ... To purchase a ticket for the booth, please ensure you have your partner with you. All pairs come first," you stated, reading the fine print from the paper in your hands, trying to maintain your composure.

"Good then." He flashed you his ID. "Jake Sim."

"Jake Sim," you repeated, scribbling his name down. "Who would you be taking to the kissing booth?"

You looked behind him as his members stood still. "One of them?" You snickered.

"Kissing booth?" Jake's eyes widened in surprise, who seemingly haven't heard you talk for that second. "This isn't just a regular dating booth?"

You sighed, feeling an exasperated laugh bubble up. Of course, it isn't. The dating booth idea was scrapped due to budget constraints, leaving this more intimate alternative. There wasn't anything you can do at that point, even though you were the council's ACTING president.

"Yes."

"Shoot..." Jake checked his breath, a sudden look of concern washing over his face. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his sudden panic.

You laughed lightly. "Mint?"

He shot you a look, as if to say don’t look at me right now.

"Huh? I'm good!" he declared, spraying some fresh mist into his mouth. "See? Nothing happened." he smirked, spreading his arms wide, clearly trying to charm you.

"I still can't give you a ticket," you replied firmly, crossing your arms.

"Why?" he pressed, a playful challenge in his eyes.

"You have no partner—"

"I can take you with me, can't I?" he cut in, blunt and straightforward, his eagerness palpable.

It felt as if time had frozen. He looked at you with eager anticipation, and you could only respond with confusion, your heart fluttering unexpectedly.

"Me?" you stammered, flustered. "You can't possibly think of me as—"

Suddenly, you heard a whirlwind of chaos behind you, like a storm brewing in your booth.

"Two dollars, and he's yours!" Joey shouted, tossing you toward Jake with a mischievous grin.

"That's more like it!" Jake said, handing over the bills to Joey and waving goodbye as he led you toward the booth.

"Thank you for the donation!" Joey called after you, her voice fading as you felt your heart racing faster than ever.

"Two dollars?!" you exclaimed, shooting a death glare at Joey, who simply smiled and waved goodbye, leaving you feeling wronged yet slightly amused.

"Trust me! You’re worth more than that!" she whispered dramatically, retreating into the crowd.

You felt your blood boil at the suddenness of it all, yet something else stopped you in your tracks. It was as if time had paused again, leaving only the two of you in this moment filled with tension and unspoken words.

"This is ridiculous," you mumbled, avoiding Jake's gaze. Beads of sweat trickled down your forehead, and you wiped them away with your hands, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up.

Jake laughed, drawing closer, his presence overwhelming and oddly comforting.

"What?" You looked at him.

"I'm just trying to understand why you don’t want me kissing you," he said with that playful grin that made your heart skip a beat. "I mean, everybody wants a piece of me."

So bold?! You rolled your eyes at his audacity. "What an airhead you are..."

Airhead? I thought people liked confident guys. Jake pondered, trying to maintain his charming facade.

"Heh. Am I an airhead?" he scoffed, a playful smirk on his face. "Isn’t it just because I know what I like?"

"Ugh." You mimicked your friend's signature sassy move. "Do NOT tell me that."

Am I already screwing this up? Jake’s mind raced, unable to keep up with his facade crumbling under the pressure.

"Can’t we just enjoy this moment between us, babe?" Jake said, leaning in and pressing his hands beside your head. Your eyes widened in shock, and you felt your heart hammering in your chest.

That's it, look flustered… please? Jake thought desperately, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his bravado.

You stared at him, disbelief washing over you. He was already making a move with something as cringeworthy as this? And calling you by such a boring pet name? You couldn't even imagine the other ridiculous things he might do. Maybe he would—

KISS YOU?! In a blink, his lips met yours, soft as a cloud brushing against your skin.

In that instant, something snapped within you. You tried to push him away, but he only deepened the kiss, and you felt something strange sliding between your mouths.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, trying to pull away.

"What—"

"A tongue?!" you gasped, staring at him, bewildered. Jake chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"What? I’m not doing anything," he smirked, knowing full well what he was doing.

"You snuck that devilish tip of your tongue into my mouth!" you accused, covering your face as heat rushed to your cheeks, embarrassment flooding your senses.

"Oh come on, you liked it," Jake teased, his confidence unwavering.

Did you? He wondered, feeling a mix of hope and doubt.

"That’s it! You had your time!" you declared, storming away, embarrassed and flustered. "Enjoy, then get lost!"

As you walked away, you shot one last glance over your shoulder, throwing out something Jake never thought he’d hear directed at him.

"Weirdo..." you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief, a mixture of confusion and exhilaration swirling inside you.

Jake stood there, feeling like a lost puppy searching for its owner. The thrill of the kiss lingered on his lips, but the sting of embarrassment washed over him.

Somewhere on campus, you could almost hear his loud screams of agony.

His friends rushed over, concern etched on their faces. "Hey, Jake!" a couple of teammates called, finding their captain lying on the ground, kicking his feet in shame.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Jake screamed again, all his efforts feeling wasted, his face buried in his hands as if he could hide from the world.

"Oh my god, he’s breaking down..." Joey remarked, stepping into the booth. She quickly closed the curtains, glancing at the curious onlookers, knowing too well the rumors that would fly around.

"Shh! People will get the wrong idea about our booth! This is NOT a screamo booth; the main stage is down by the garden pavilion."

Jake grabbed one of his larger teammates, his eyes wide with despair. "He looked at me like I was DIRTY!!!" he cried, trying to wipe away his tears, but failing miserably.

"Are you ... crying?!" Joey exclaimed, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"Yes, I’m crying!" Jake declared, wiping his face in a panic, his emotions spilling over.

"Captain, your image—"

"Who cares!" Jake slumped back down, defeated. "He probably thinks I’m a loser at this point... What gives?"

A heavy silence blanketed the booth, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

"It’s not like it’s the last chance you’ll ever get, you know cap?" one teammate said, trying to console him, though the words felt hollow in the air.

"But..." Jake murmured, his confidence wavering.

Another teammate stood up, raising his fist in determination. "You’re Jake Sim, our all-powerful soccer team captain! You can do anything!"

Jake slowly lifted his gaze, intrigued by their words, the fire within him beginning to reignite.

"And you can make up for it!" his teammates urged. "Then you’ll get that chance!"

He considered his situation. If he could somehow make up for what he did with you, it would earn him some serious brownie points, right? Maybe then he'd finally get the chance to ask you out.

"Okay!" Jake declared, standing tall and raising his fist triumphantly. "I’ll try better this time!"

"That’s the spirit, Captain Jake!" his teammates cheered, ending with a loud burst of laughter, their camaraderie lifting his spirits.

"Ugh... you guys are hopeless." Joey facepalmed, shaking her head in disbelief as she tried to suppress a smile. "Whatever... that’s not my business..."

As the fair continued around them, Jake felt a newfound determination swell within him. He couldn't let this moment define him; he had to make things right. With a deep breath, he plotted his next move, ready to win you over, one awkward attempt at a time.

I really wanted to make Jake someone who tries too hard to get someone's attention, only making himself a pitiful sack of potatoes by the end of the ordeal. DONT WORRY he should be able to get the guy right ...right?!

hope you guys enjoyed it! please like, comment, or reblog~

my masterlist!

made by writhyv.

[aliwritex]

oscar thoughts: college student!reader riding his thigh 18+ 1.2k

notes: he���s a bit clueless in this and it was caused because of this pic. it’s quite silly but i like this don’t be mean

Chess at a house party. Sure, it wasn’t exactly a party and it wasn’t a house. But chess wasn’t really in your plans for the end of semester gathering. Fine, it wasn’t a gathering either, something in between. Your apartment was full of classmates, most of them, dancing, talking or having a drink. But in the corner of the living room sat your roommate and two of his friends, playing chess.

“What are you doing? This is an excuse to not use our brains and you’re ruining it.”

“Oh, come here, you have to play Oscar, he’s too good. Think you could beat him though.”

“Scott, I’m not gonna play chess when I’m hosting a party”

“Cmon, everyone’s set and having fun, have a game, please, Oscar’s feeling a little out of place.”

You were familiar with Oscar, he was friends with Scott, your roommate, and you’d met him a couple times, he was nice, polite and hot. So you sat down, watching the boy replace the pieces to the right spots.

“Best of three?”

“For what?”

“Don’t know yet, i’ll decide while we play” you teased and watched him nod and sign at the table, letting you know you had the white pieces.

Oscar won the first match, you the second, gathering low cheering from your two friends that watched.

“Right, if I win this one, I get to take you to my room for ‘seven minutes in heaven’ or more” you teased.

Said and done, you won the last round. Maybe he let you but you didn’t mind. You both got up and you took his hand in yours, guiding him to the other side of the apartment as your friends cheered on him.

You sat him on the bed and he just stared up at you.

“Are you a virgin?” you bluntly asked the boy and watched him blush uncontrollably.

“I- what? No!”

Watching him stutter made you smile. You walked across the room, taking off your shoes and looking around your vanity for a clip to hold your hair up.

“You sure act like one” you told him through the mirror “relax a little”

Oscar could swear he got a peak of your underwear when you bent over to do so.

“Seeing I’m the winner, think I'm gonna claim my prize. And I’ve wanted to do this for a while”

Your confession made him choke on his breath as he watched you walk over to him. Your finger reached out for his chin, making him lift his head, brown eyes staring up at you through lashes. You kissed his pouty lips, sitting on his thigh. Your action knocked the breath out of his lungs, he could not respond to your kiss for a second.

“C’mon, don’t be so shy”

You guided his hands to your waist, under your flowy shirt. They were cold and slightly shaking but the touch felt good, reassuring. Your short skirt had bunched up around your hips, allowing you to feel his thigh muscles right against your underwear as you kissed. Your hands dived into his already messy hair as your tongue made it into his mouth.

His thumbs caressed your sides softly, a tentative touch that showed him getting more confident. His hands then reached up your back, lifting your shirt to expose your stomach and allowing him to catch a glimpse of a tattoo he didn’t know about, it made him curious.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked when your lips left his to explore his neck.

You chuckled at his question and slowly pulled away from him “Just sit here for me, yeah? Wanna use you for bit”

Your lips met his again and your hands dropped to take his to your hips. Then you started to move.

You had a particularly thin pair of panties on that allowed you to feel the texture of his shorts against your skin as your hips dragged forwards. You moved back, arching your back and letting his hands follow your hips. When you bucked forwards again Oscar understood what you were doing and he was in shock. But as soon as he recomposed himself he spread his legs further, making his shorts ride up.

Then the only thing separating you was your underwear but he took care of that too. His hand carefully and slowly met your middle, tucking your panties to the side. You groaned when you felt your wet lips meet his thigh, his cool skin contrasting with your middle.

Your hips moved faster and the pleasure made your head fall back, letting Oscar watch your body moving, in awe. He could feel your thigh muscles flexing beneath his hands as you moved and he was watching the way your breathing became ragged.

Your hands left his shoulders for a second, just to pull down the straps of your top, it made your boobs fall out of it, right on his face. Then you were back at it, hips moving fast, hands grabbing his shoulders, tits on his face and occasional pretty moans, you were putting on a show for him.

And it was working. He was watching like he didn’t want to miss a second of your performance. And you could feel his hard cock pressing against your knee when you moved. You couldn’t lie, it felt powerful to have him like that, under you, watching so mesmerized. You would love to concentrate on his face to see his reactions but you were already feeling your insides tighten.

Moans started coming out of your lips with no filter, you knew the music in the apartment was loud enough that only Oscar would hear them. Your thighs tightened around his and almost stopped you from moving. You were about to lose your high when his hands met your hips again and helped your movements.

You squeezed his shoulders tightly when you came, legs also tensing up around his till he was trapped. He made sure to keep his eyes on you as you did, watching your face contorting with pleasure, head thrown back and mouth open, a strangled moan making its way out.

He sighed when your head finally dropped to his shoulder and your body relaxed on top of him.

“Didn’t know you had a tattoo” he whispered to the side of your neck as his thumb caressed the mark on your stomach.

“I don’t go around showing it to everyone. Maybe you could see all of it some day though.” you teased as you pulled away, kissing his lips quickly.

A string of wetness connected your cunt to his thigh when you got up, the view making him groan. He watched from the bed as you pulled your straps back up and your skirt down but instead of straightening up your panties you took them off. You thought about it for a second before throwing them on his lap.

“You sort yourself out,” you told him through the mirror again as you let your hair down this time, now allowing him a view of your wet cunt when you bent over, “see you outside”

Oscar just watched you walk out of the room, he couldn’t say anything, just throw his body back on the bed and think about what happened.

[nashusglasses]

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i finished s1 of apothecary diaries recently and for some reason high ranking military official!zayne x courtesan!mc will not leave my head!!! (>/////< " ) (cw: extreme yearning!!!!!!!! intimate kisses!!! this may or may not have been inspired by absolute zeal huehuehue)

he visits you once every two weeks. the attending staff like to tease you when he arrives (7pm sharp – no later, no earlier) by saying the prince has come to steal you away, and all you can do is roll your eyes. yes, he's devastatingly handsome and has some money to his name, but you can't imagine him buying you out of here anytime soon. you don't mind the job, anyway – you're paid to play chess, serve tea and the occasional glass of wine, stealing a kiss or two when they're drunk enough – and you refuse to imagine leaving your sisters behind.

zayne is different, though. he only requests tea (jasmine white, every time), requests exactly three games of chess, and always asks you to fill the silence with stories of the previous two weeks he'd missed.

one night, it changes.

zayne is fifteen minutes late.

you don't care for the schedule, but it's a change of pace you didn't know you'd kept. when he does finally come to your room, he is flushed straight down his neck, his uniform unkempt like he'd been clawing at the fabric.

when he sees the concern on your face, he has the decency to look sheepish. "i apologize," he breathes, then gulps. "i – the barracks had an impromptu party and i–"

"please," you interrupt. in the low light of oil-licked lamps, he calms. "you have no need to explain yourself. would you like to sit down?"

he gulps again. blinks stupidly for a quiet few seconds. a part of you wants to warn him the manager will probably charge him for the full two hours regardless of any excuses, but you don't think he can process anything in what seems to be an incredibly muddled brain.

you gently grab his arm, and he looks hypnotized.

"come. i'll make you tea," you say.

the next five minutes of crushing leaves and boiling water is hilariously silent. zayne's posture is sagged where he sits in front of the chess board, he's still blinking stupidly, and you already know the reason why. you smelled it the second you came within one metre of him.

"so did they force a cup of sake down your throat?" you tease, readying a small porcelain plate for the hot teacup on a serving tray. "or was this your own doing?"

he watches your careful steps toward him. keeps his hazy eyes on your form when you lean over to place the tea in front of him, and he's a second too late to ignore your tits. (you wear this low-hanging hanfu for a reason – and if your words aren't getting to him, he may as well use his sight to communicate. your game sense isn't the only thing that's keeping you in the highest ranks of courtesans.)

zayne licks his lips, then remembers himself. he immediately turns his attention on a high-point of the ceiling. you watch his ears turn sun-red in record time. "the former," he answers.

"i figured as much. let me put this tray away then we can get started. please don't burn your tongue."

he's already finished his cup when you come back to seat yourself in front of him.

"are you sure you're of the right mind?" you reassure him. "i wouldn't want you to waste your money on trivial conversation."

zayne almost looks offended. "no conversation with you is trivial."

oh. now you're burning up. "i understand. shall we play?"

he hardly sobers after your first game. he loses so spectacularly you'd thought he was teasing you when he let you take his bishop way too early in the game, but you realize he's just that drunk. you let up in the second match when you start to see him swaying in his spot.

"maybe we should stop for the night," you suggest. zayne ignores you, eyebrows furrowed with intent to continue, dangling a pawn over a column you know he's contemplating with zero strategy.

you stop him before he drops it down with a warm palm on his knuckles. he freezes. "i insist."

zayne looks at you, teary-eyed. you're almost tempted to smother him in your chest and croon. so you stand up, beckoning him over to your bed where he can relax.

he keeps a respectable distance from you at the edge of the mattress. but in the warmth of your pink blankets, all his harsh lines soften. underneath his uniform, you know he's made of hard muscle. trained strength. he could probably lift you with one finger.

he makes a strangled sound when you cup his face, tracing the thin skin of his cheek.

"you're safe here," you whisper. truthfully, you have no idea how to comfort him. all you can offer is another cup of tea, and you scold yourself for being such a terrible host.

zayne closes his eyes, then leans into your touch.

you stay still. he kisses your palm. you squeak.

"oh," you say.

zayne offers no explanation, waiting for you to retreat. inevitably, you are star-struck.

with his eyes still closed, he grabs hold of your arm, trailing a light kiss on your wrist, the inside of your elbow. the middle of your bicep. your shoulder.

he stops, and says: "may i please?"

the neurons in your brain are firing at sonic speed. you tingle where his lips rained. and because you are the most indulgent person in the world with a beautiful man in your bed, you nod. "you may."

he aims for your jaw but misses terribly. his kiss is wet on your chin, and you can't help but laugh. he smiles, hovering his mouth over yours. letting you take the lead.

you make him swallow your joy.

he is a pliant lover, tasting you only when you tongue at him first. he is so, so gentle. when you break for air, he pants.

"you have all of me," he whispers.

he yelps when you tackle him onto his back.

.

.

.

(later that night, your manager asks you how the hell you doubled your rate for your service. you shrug, wiping your bottom lip, savouring what you can.)

[wrystia]

unmistakable glances spencer agnew x fem!reader (fluff) wc: 800

   staring at the screen in front of you, your finger pushes ever so slightly at the left joystick. sitting beside spencer, your legs are propped up into your chair, an old sweatshirt acting as a protective shield around you. your character slowly walks into a parking garage, the dim lights partially obscuring the large alien figure. eyes wide, you look back at spencer, your lips pursed. 

  he peers over at you, giving you a short smile. clenching your jaw, you look back to the screen. moving the joystick once more, you slowly make your way through the parking garage. the alien slowly creeps above barriers and around cars, occasionally kicking a can that’s been left laying around. “this is the worst,” your whisper comes out low, trying to keep yourself from looking away again.

  “you’ve got this,” he whispers back, something your personal mic packs could pick up but the remote couldn’t.

  his voice echoes in your head, sounding somewhat soothing as you make your way around a car. and just as you’re starting to feel your heartbeat slow, you run into a crushed can. the sound of metal getting kicked carries throughout the parking garage. the alien makes a noise, one that indicates its awareness of you, immediately sending you to toss the controller into spencer’s hands, “shit!”

  it lands in his hands, the controller processing your speaking and alerting the alien right to where you are. spencer looks over at you with his mouth agape, watching the alien kill your character in his peripheral vision. “why’d you do that?!” he laughs a little, making sure you know he isn’t being serious with his attitude towards you.

  “that’s like asking a duck why it quacks.”

  “i feel like i go a little bit insane every time you make a weird analogy. could’ve said ‘that’s why a pig flies’ and i’d probably take it at face value,” spencer sets the remote down, bringing his hands up to bring up his cap and adjust his hair.

  looking back at him, you try to hide the smile that crosses your lips. he’s always had this effect on you, the way he does anything with a simple nature that makes your palms clammy. even just the way he casually rests his arm behind your chair, the heat of his body temperature leeching onto you. “okay, first off, i’d never say that. second, you need to start because we’re running out of time and i want out of this building…”

  “i feel so emotionally wounded, you don’t want to hang out with me and this amazing crew anymore?”

  “you know what i meant, and if you don’t start going soon i am going to… report you to hr,” you watch as he grabs a hold of the system’s controller, rolling his eyes as you make up some sort of threat to convince him to get moving. 

  starting the level back up, he keeps his eyes on the game in front of him, locking in. however, your gaze can’t seem to escape from his concentrated face. you know he can feel you looking to him and not to the computer screen. you also know that you want to play it off like simple fear of the game, clinging onto your cohost with only the purest of intentions. but, when his gaze shifts back to look at you, all you want to do is bring him closer.

  “watch me nail this,” he gives you this smug look, forcing you to move your eyes to the screen. 

  he moves your character in the same path that you had taken her, watching the alien slowly creep around the parking garage. staring at the screen, you don’t seem to notice as spencer hides back a laugh, walking right into nearly the same can that you walked into. “oh shit!” he yells, exasperated. 

  tossing the remote to you, you look back at him. “you fucker!” you listen as the alien quickly kills your character, once again attune to the sound of cans moving and the shouting of two very loud individuals. 

  “you are so evil, i need everyone to hear me now when i say that this is all just to torture me,” you look around the room, only to have your eyes land back onto spencer. 

  he stares back into yours, carrying a cheeky little smile that he seems to love to have around you. for a second, you almost forget that you’re filming. especially when he reaches down to grab the controller back from your hand. spencer’s fingers brush yours in a quick movement, static bridging from your hand to his. “fine, fine, we will finish this level out clean! just know that we have a lot more to go through. just a warning.”

  “oh goodness.”

[vigilxntesht]

𝙠𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙣𝙤-𝙚𝙪𝙡 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 — “let me take care of you.”

ִ𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 — kang no-eul (guard) x female reader (player)

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 — this is my first fanfic ever and english isn’t my first language so please forgive me if isn’t perfect

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 — 2k

𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚

she’s been watching you—observing you. she’s intrigued by you, drawn to you. and now, she’s ready to make you hers.

you sit on your bunk bed silently. the soft, warm glow of the lights only makes the harsh reality of what you just witnessed feel more surreal. the deadly game of ‘red light, green light’ still echoes through your mind—the brutal violence of each person caught moving, shot right on the spot. you are alive only because a man called gi-hun had guided you, giving you instructions that helped you stay still. apparently, he has played these games before. despite the help, you’re deeply shocked. you have no idea what to do. how on earth had you ended up here?

you stare at the dry, hard sandwich in front of you, the nausea twisting your stomach so tightly that taking a bite feels impossible. your tracksuit was covered in a few spatters of blood here and there, each drop a cruel reminder of everything that just happened.

you close your eyes, hoping for a moment of peace, but instead, the faces of countless innocent lives lost only hours ago invade your mind. after a while, you give up, settling on the edge of the bed, the silence heavy and suffocating. you wait for the night to crawl by and for the next brutal game to begin.

the other players around you begin to quiet down, drifting into an uneasy sleep. some, like you, remain awake. your gaze catches the man from earlier. what was his name again? oh, right—gi-hun. he meets your eyes and offers a smile, but the smile is hollow, full of terror. you give a slight smile in return, then quickly redirect your attention, focusing on the cold, hard floor instead. you can’t afford to get attached in here. not with the dangers lurking around you.

two hours of heavy silence strike by. most of the others, including gi-hun, have drifted off into a restless sleep, but not you. you’re exhausted, sure, but sleep refuses to come. that’s when you suddenly feel it—someone’s watching you. you turn around instinctively, but there’s no one there. a cold shiver runs down your spine, an eerie feeling begins to settle in your chest. what if someone’s sizing you up, thinking you’re an easy target? you frown and shake off the thought. it’s nothing. probably.

still, that feeling lingers, creeping under your skin. it’s as if someone’s eyes are boring into you, watching your every move. you turn around, but—again—there’s no one in sight. just as you’re about to brush it off, a deep, cold voice cuts through the silence.

“eat. you need the strength.”

your heart stops. the words hang in the air, making your breath catch in your throat.

immediately, you turn around, scrambling to the far side of the bed when you spot the pink guard standing at the foot of it. what the hell?

“who the fuck are you?” you snap, voice thick with defiance. “what do you want from me?”

the guard seems unbothered. she doesn’t even flinch. doesn’t react at all, actually. she just stands there, cold and silent. her silence feels heavier than any threat you’ve felt in here.

you frown, frustration bubbling up, before you remember the question she asked before.

“….im not hungry.” you mutter, your voice tight.

“too bad,” she replies, her tone sharp and demanding. “i wasn’t asking.”

you don’t know why she came up to you, but given the fact she’s the one holding a gun, you reluctantly take a bite of the sandwich and swallow it. you look at the guard, your lips twitching slightly as you feel your stomach already starting to reject the food.

“happy now?”

she doesn’t answer, walking away without a word, returning to her position by the door. but your impulsive thoughts take over, and you call out, stopping her.

“hey, wait!”

her fast pace slows to a stop, but she doesn’t turn to face you.

“the guards are not allowed to talk to the players.” she says flatly.

you frown, the words sparking up more curiousity in you.

“then why did you come up to me?”

there’s a flicker— a barely noticeable flinch— and for a moment, she’s silent, the weight of her hesitation hanging in the air. finally, she speaks, her voice cool and neutral.

“…because you seemed lost.”

the words catch you off guard. she doesn’t say anything else as she turns away and walks back to her position, leaving you with a knot in your chest and a dozen questions you’re not sure you want the answers to. you’re left in the silence, trying to make sense of it, but she doesn’t seem like she’s about to come back and explain.

with a sigh, you follow her advice and finish the sandwich. you finally manage to close your eyes, drifting into an anxious, uneasy sleep.

the next morning, as soon as you wake up, you’re eyes dart around the room, searching for the mysterious guard from last night—but she’s nowhere to be found. before you can dwell on it, a sudden need to pee takes over. you head to the women’s bathroom, knowing the guards don’t let anyone in outside of bathroom hours. so when your knocks go unanswered, you’re not surprised.

just as turn your head back to your bunk, a soft click breaks the silence. the door behind you unlocks.

“player 241. come in.”

as you turn around, the strange sensation from last night washes over you again. you can’t see her face, but somehow, you just know—it’s her. the guard.

without a word, you step inside the bathroom, offering a subtle nod as a thanks. she says nothing. the silence affects you more than it should.

after finishing your business, you walk over to the sink to wash your hands, but the moment the door clicks shut and locks, your body freezes. slowly, you glance to the side. she’s standing by the door, watching you.

your pulse quickens. a lump forms in your throat.

“what do you want from me?” your voice wavers. “please… don’t kill me.”

she scoffs, a quiet, almost amused sound, before taking a step closer.

“kill you?” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “now, why would i want to do that?”

confusion swirls you. who is she? why won’t she leave you alone?

the woman steps closer, backing you into a corner. you search for an escape, but there’s nowhere to go—and nothing to say. she extends her hand, offering yet another dry, unappetizing sandwich. you sigh out in frustration.

“i don’t want this! i’m not hungry and they’re disgusting—”

“there’s a clue for the next game inside.” she interrupts dryly.

you fall silent and your breath catches.

“eat it,” she continues, unwavering. “you’ll find a slip of paper hidden inside. you can thank me later.”

you stare at the sandwich, your mind racing. a clue? the guard turns to leave again, but this time, you’re faster. you step in front of her, blocking her way.

“no, wait! you don’t just get to walk away. i want answers.”

your voice is firm, but there’s a tremble beneath it—partly from irritation, partly from the submachine gun slung across her chest.

she stops, tilting her head slightly. “answers, about what?” her tone is flat, unreadable.

“about… this. about why you’re helping me. about who you are.”

silence stretches between you. for a moment, you think she won’t answer. then, without warning, her hand moves to her mask.

she pulls it off.

deep brown eyes meet yours—sharp, intense. pale skin, dusted with freckles, is flawed by a fresh cut along her cheek. her lips are cracked and swollen, as if she’s been biting them too much. despite everything, she’s… beautiful. breathtaking, even. she exhales, running a hand through her damp, sweat-matted hair. then, locking eyes with you, she speaks.

“kang no-eul.” she says boldly.

“what?” you’re still struggling to process everything happening right now.

she sighs in slight irritation. “my name. you asked for my name. it’s kang no-eul.”

to your embarrassment, the sound of her low, steady voice sends a warm blush creeping up your cheeks.

“oh. um, my name is—”

“i know.” she cuts you off smoothly, a small smirk playing on her lips. “i know who you are. i’ve been observing you.”

you take a hesitant step back. “…observing me?”

her expression doesn’t change. “the way you shut yourself off from others. the way you always seem to be lost in thoughts. the way you‘re constantly one step ahead of the other players. you’re intelligent, aren’t you?”

there’s something unnerving about her tone—half admiration, half something else. something colder.

“but.. you’re a guard.”

you meet her gaze, and instantly regret it when you feel your cheeks flaming up again. god, get it together!

a barely-there chuckle escapes her lips. “good observation.” she doesn’t look away. her eyes, dark and mysterious, shimmer with something you can’t quite place.

you lean against the cold bathroom wall, burying your face in your hands.

“what the hell is going on..” you whisper to yourself.

the guard—kang no-eul—takes a step closer, resting a hand on your shoulder. her expression remains neutral, but there’s something in her eyes. a glimmer of something almost… affectionate?

“hey. don’t be like that. you’re underestimating yourself.”

you lift your head, shooting her a glare. “you don’t even know me.”

she laughs. it’s not the reaction you expect, and the sound sends a chill down your spine. it’s confident. unbothered. she’s not intimidated by you in the slightest.

“maybe,” she says, smirking. “but i do know this—you should stop whining and get it together. because no matter how smart you are, crying won’t get you anywhere.” her words sting more than they should. you slap her hand off your shoulder, your anger taking over.

“leave me alone.”

within seconds, she grabs your wrists again, tighter this time. not just firmly, but demanding.

“listen to me,” she hisses, her voice sharp and low. “i’m risking my life to help you. so you better do as i say before i end up scraping your corpse off the game room floor.”

you freeze. her grip is solid, her words slicing through the air like a blade. for the first time, real fear creeps in.

she notices. the tension in her hands shifts, and just as suddenly as she grabbed you, she releases your wrists. slowly, her fingers trail up to your face, brushing against your cheek. it’s a stark contrast—gentle, almost.. tender.

you don’t understand what’s happening. you don’t understand her. but the second her touch meets your skin, something stirs deep inside your stomach. butterflies.

your gaze flickers to hers. your eyes linger on the fresh cut along her cheek. how did she get that?

“do you think you can do that?” she asks, voice softer now. “listen to me?”

you hesitate, unsure. her hand moves again, this time gripping your chin, tilting your head until your eyes lock onto hers. her hold is firm.

“i’m talking to you.”

you swallow hard and nod.

“use your words.”

you don’t know why you’re listening to her, why you’re obeying so easily— but you do. something about her presence, her voice, leaves no room for resistance.

after a brief pause, you whisper: “yes. i’ll listen to you, kang no-eul.”

she smiles, slow and satisfied. “good girl.”

you shiver as she speaks those words. you barely know her, yet something about her pulls you in, an invisible force you can’t resist. it’s dangerous. it’s intoxicating.

but she doesn’t give you time to process it.

before you can react, she leans in, pressing her lips to yours— soft at first, almost teasing. but then the kiss deepens, growing more urgent, more possessive with each passing second. at first, you’re too stunned to move, frozen under her touch. but then, instinct takes over. you melt into her, kissing her back passionately, your hands finding their way to her arms, her shoulders.

she hums softly against your lips, her slim fingers threading through your hair as if she’s known you forever. as if you already belong to her.

“just like that, darling.” she murmurs, her voice a breathy promise.

“let me take care of you.”

[yapperblog]

Tags: smut, fingering, unprotected piv, kinda mean Joost.

Explicit RPF below, don't interact if you are not comfortable with that; +18

You walk down a busy street, the path is familiar to you – it leads to the Internet Cafe, where you go to do your personal admin tasks and unwind playing games after a stressful day at work. It is already dark outside, but the sound of rain splattering onto your umbrella and lights of the nearby shops shining from the windows as you walk past are keeping you company.

As you reach your destination, you notice a printed note on the door "Today we are closing for maintenance at 10pm. Come back tomorrow for usual working hours." You sigh, as you usually prefer to stay for longer, the whole point of it being open 24/7.

Familiar clacking of the keyboard, murmur of conversations and laughter of groups of people engaged in a computer game greets you as you walk in. You put away your umbrella and head to the administrator's desk. Your heart starts pounding faster, as it does every time you see him. Joost, who works at the cafe, is sitting at his desk, a usual scowl on his face and a cigarette hanging from his lips, even though there is a No smoking sign. He is the sole reason this place is running as smoothly as it does, he keeps every customer at check. From the first time you came here, you could tell everyone is scared of him due to his mean attitude, but it thrills you – the smudged eyeliner look he has, his style, how he towers over everyone, it all excites you. You haven't talked to him much, he keeps it pretty short with everyone, an uninterested look on his face, so getting a few words from him always seems like a win.

You unbutton your jacket and fix your skirt, which you wore just for him – today it is even shorter than usual. He doesn't talk much, but you can feel his eyes on you, when you wear those skirts. How he rolls his eyes, when you bat your eyes at him asking for help on the computer, even though you know how to fix it yourself, he is annoyed, but never denies your ask for help. It excites you knowing you have some effect on him.

"Hi, 2 hours please." you say as you reach his desk, sliding the exact amount of cash for 2 hours on the computer and internet.

"We close at 10 today." he doesn't look up, takes your money.

"I saw the note." you say and before he can point at what computer is free, you chime in. "I was thinking...do you need any help?"

He stops typing, stares at the screen and then looks up at you. You smile cheerily, "I can help with the maintenance, whatever that is, or I can vacuum. It will be faster together." yet his facial expression doesn't change from the usual bored scowl.

"We are fine." he says and turns back to the computer.

"5th computer is yours for 2 hours" he points at the direction of the desk.

You turn around to walk towards it, not entirely surprised by his answer, but it was worth a try. You say hi to other usual customers you've become friends with. As you take a seat, you look behind your shoulder, catching Joost staring at the exposed skin provided by your short skirt. You can't help but clench your thighs together, hoping he notices how a simple glance from him arouses you, wishing it was him touching you directly.

2 hours go by fast. You throw your head back laughing at something a guy next to you said. He is funny, and has been a good company, you put your hand on his thigh, not meaning anything by it, other than trying to catch yourself as you laugh again leaning forward. On accident your eyes meet Joost, who is watching your hand on the guy's thigh – his scowl angrier than usual, the cigarette letting out smoke as it hangs from his lips.

"It's 10pm. Everyone – out." Joost stands up to announce and walks towards the desks with a trash bag to collect any junk left by the customers.

You start to pack your things, when you feel a hand on your upper arm. It's a guy you met earlier, "I was thinking, maybe you want to grab a drink with me? There is a good bar nearby. If you are not busy."

You are about to reply, when you hear a familiar deep voice coming from behind you. "She is helping here today."

You turn to face Joost. "I thought you said-"

"Yeah. Change of plans. Are you staying or no?"

You look at the guy, who is still waiting for your answer. "Sorry, I can't today."

The last customer leaves – it's just you and Joost now. You stand awkwardly, not really having expected your evening to turn out this way.

"Grab the trash bag, throw out anything that's not supposed to be on the desks. And wipe them down later, cleaning wipes are next to the printer. I will vacuum. The guys should come soon to update the computers." you just stare at him, this must be the most you've heard him talk.

"What?" he asks with raised eyebrows after you don't reply.

"Nothing." you giggle and grab the trash bag. This should be fun.

It is not a big space, so you keep bumping into each other, as he vacuums under the desks, you mutter little sorries, but he keeps at task, seemingly in his own world. His presence in the same room feels electric, now that everyone else is gone, you want his attention more than ever. You bend down and reach forward on the desk as if to pick up the trash at the back of it, your skirt revealing bunching up higher revealing even more skin. You know he notices it, you don't even have to look back to feel his eyes on you. Even a little brush of his arm next to you makes your breath hitch, you wonder if he can tell. Was it jealousy that made him change his mind and let you stay? You want to talk to him, but the constant noise of the vacuum cleaner makes it impossible.

The next time, you intentionally pick a desk to clean right where he is vacuuming. You lean against it and your ass brushes against his hip. He doesn't move away, you wiggle your hips slightly. The noise suddenly stops.

"What are you doing?" he asks. Only the buzz of computers running and your both heavy breathing can be heard in the room. You haven't noticed how worked up he has gotten you just by being close, but seeing how his own chest is rising and falling you can guess it had the same effect on him.

"What do you mean?" you are still in the same position, and he also hasn't moved. He looks down at where your ass meets his hip. The cool metal clasp of his pants feels nice on your skin. You play coy and it thrills you what he will do about it. "I am cleaning the desks as you told me to, am I not?"

He groans and the sound of it makes you grin.

"Well, I think you missed a spot." his voice is lower than usual.

"Huh? Where?"

"Right there." he points at the suspicious stain at the back of the desk. You lean in to reach it, when you feel him move behind you. A pair of warm hands holding your waist, it makes you stop in your tracks, suddenly hot all over.

"Why did you stop? Should I help you?" his crotch is pressed behind you.

"I don't think I see it. I do need some help."

His palm slides from your waist up to your shoulder, down your arm, as he reaches your hand, holding it gently, his chest now pressed against your back. Your heart is threatening to jump out of your throat. The weight of his body on you, the smell of his cologne and cigarettes he smokes makes your head spin. You can't help but arch your back, a quiet moan slipping past your lips.

You hear him huff next to your ear. "Such a pretty girl. Coming here flaunting in your tiny skirts." he speaks quietly and a chill runs down your spine.

"Always the loudest laugh in the room." he continues and moves your hand to wipe down the stain, holding it firmly in his own. "But I can't even bring myself to say anything, because I love the sound of it." he admits. "Don't think I don't notice you."

"Oh, I know you notice." you try to calm your breathing, but fail miserably, it comes out more as a pathetic whimper. He chuckles at how fast he has gotten you wrapped around his finger.

"So you wear it just for me?" he continues moving your hand, his lips ghosting over your neck. "Not these other guys?"

"Only you. I don't need anyone else." you try to turn your head to look at him, but he straightens up and holds the back of your neck.

"Fuck." he groans, you can feel he is getting hard, the rough material of his jeans still pressed against you. You want him to know how wet he got you. "What should I do with you?"

His hand starts trailing from waist down to your thigh, when you hear the door open. He quickly takes a step back from you, turning away. You also stand up from the desk, fixing your hair.

"Hi. We are here for the computer updates?" one of the men says.

Joost goes up to greet them and show around. "Continue cleaning." he calls out to you, when walking past.

After awhile you start to get bored, now that you are not alone, Joost has gone back to ignoring you. The lack of his hands on you makes you feel so lonely, you can still remember the weight and warmth of him pressing you onto the desk, and it is still not enough. He is sitting at his desk, lighting up another cigarette, you watch him flick a lighter, taking a few deep drags filling his lungs with smoke.

You walk towards him. "Is there anything else I can help with?"

He looks around the room, "Honestly.. no. You can go home, you know." there is a hint in his voice that shows he feels bad for keeping you here waiting around for whatever reason. You must have better ways of spending the night rather than this dirty old place.

"I can stay." you reassure him. "I want to help you finish your shift." you trace a nail down his bicep. He looks at your hand, then back up at your face. After his confession of loving the sound of your laugh and calling you a pretty girl you became bolder. His eyes shift to the men still working on the computers, "How long will this take?" he calls out to them.

They shrug, looking at each other. "Like another.. hour or so." one of them replies. Your head drops in defeat, why is it taking so long.

"Sure you don't want to go home?" Joost asks you again.

"I'm sure."

"To help me finish the shift you said?" he laughs. And it makes you stop in your tracks. This is the first time you heard him laugh, what a beautiful sound. You need more of it.

"You are doing it again." he says, his attention back to the computer.

"Doing what?"

"Staring at me silently."

"I am fascinated by you." you want to smooth down the messy strands of hair sticking out in the back of his head. But restrict yourself not to push your luck too much.

"You are so weird." he says putting out his cigarette in an ashtray. "If you need something to do, here take the pencils, sharpen them." You sigh and take the pencils and the sharpener.

You are sitting at the opposite side of where the two men are busy working on computers, their chatter can be heard in the room. You have the perfect vision of Joost, from where you sit facing him, conveniently hidden from anyone else's eyes. He keeps checking on you, humming a melody while sharpening the pencils, as if it is the most interesting task in the world. He seems to have gotten back to his previous uninterested demeanour or just tries to act this way around others. You wave your fingers at him and shoot a smile. He shakes his head at you and is about to turn back to the computer, when you uncross your legs, slowly pushing them apart just for his viewing pleasure, you trace a pencil from your upper thigh closer to your skirt, raising it higher and higher, revealing the side of your panties. You look into his eyes, the bright blue irises almost invisible at this point, how aroused he is.

"We are done." the man stands up and starts to pack up their bags. Joost all but jumps out of his seat. "Thank you guys." and starts to walk them out of the door.

The door closes, the silence surrounding you both again. The anticipation is killing you, you tentatively stand up and head in his direction.

"I sharpened the pencils." you say showing him the sharp ends.

"Good." he takes the pencils, placing them on a nearby desk.

His back is turned to you, you take an opportunity to glide your hands along his back muscles. He doesn't scold you, or move away, so you continue working your hands up to his shoulders, down his arms. "You seem so tense."

You don't have time to react, he moves so quick pinning you to a desk behind you. The backs of your legs pressed against it, he is mere inches away from you, holding both your wrists in one hand. Joost leans his face down toward yours, his hand sliding down to your neck as he rests it there. His eyes dart between your soft lips and eyes.

"You really wanna get fucked here? Want me to pause my work for a needy slut?" He growls lowly, keeping a firm grip on your neck as he brings his face close to yours, his other hand holding your waist. The sudden change makes your head spin as you smile and look up at him through your lashes. You are finally getting exactly what you wanted. "Yes, please." your smile grows with your arousal as you keep your lidded eyes on his handsome face, plastered with frustration.

You wait for his next move, smiling innocently at him, even though there is not a single innocent thought in your head right now. "I want you, Joost." you say into his ear. He leans into your neck, his lips and moustache ghosting over the sensitive skin. You think he might kiss you, but he licks a stripe on your neck, it makes you moan louder than you anticipated and suddenly he turns you around. His hand pressing down on the back of your neck pushing you into the desk.

"I can give you what you want." he presses his crotch against you. It makes gasp, you can feel he is big, it excites you to no end, just like the sound of the metal clacking, in the peripheral of your position you can see him undoing his belt and pushing his pants down just enough to free his erection. You were right, he is big – it will be a stretch, but so pleasurable, you are ready for anything he will give you. He wraps his hand around his dick, the tip already dripping pre-cum.

"You want this as bad as I do, don't you?" you ask, wiggling your ass at him.

He just groans in response, still working on his dick, looking down at you. In a swift motion, he flips your skirt up, exposing your panties to him.

"If you wanna pretend you're all angry with me you can, I always liked watching you get angry at other customers." you tease, feeling a new wave of arousal wash over you when you feel his eyes on you.

"Hurry up." you press yourself further into him.

He takes a hold of your hips, taking off your panties in a swift motion and slides his thumb down to your clit, rubbing slow teasing circles over it, effectively shutting you up. The hand he has on the back of your neck tightens against you as he watches your mouth open in a small o, your eyes rolling back in your head. "So fucking easy, I touch you a little and you behave," Joost says, his cock dripping pre-cum against your ass as he throbs watching your face contort from pleasure.

"I am not easy." you try to argue.

"No?" he speeds up his movements on your clit, the wet sound filling the room. "Look at you. I have barely touched you and you are already dripping wet." his fingers move to your hole, he dips one finger in, soon after the second finger follows.

You try to press your thighs together as he continues sliding his fingers in and out of you, but Joost is having none of that. His large thigh knocks your knees apart, keeping you spread open for him so he has full access to your pussy.

"M-mmmm" You moan, your ass wiggling back against him as you try to escape the intense pleasure he was giving you – or were you trying to get more? You are so lost in pleasure. "I want you inside. Put it in." you try to meet his eyes from your position. "Please."

He looks down at you, slowing down his movements, but not completely. "I don't have any condoms on me, sweetheart."

"That's okay. You can do it raw. I don't mind." you plead. "I am on the pill."

He grew even harder than before, your teary eyes and needy voice raw fogging his judgement. He spends a few more moments stretching you out on his fingers, listening to your moans, what makes you louder, making sure you are ready for him.

You whined at the loss of his fingers, but the feeling was soon replaced by the fat head of his cock. You reach your hand behind you, wrapping your hand around his cock. "Fuck." he exhales loudly as you move your hand from his head along the shaft. You rub the head up and down your folds, mixing his precum with your juices, making sure his cock was nice and wet before he fucked you. But also to hear more of his sounds, you could get drunk on every sound that leaves his mouth.

"Enough, baby. Or the fun will end far too soon for my liking." he moves your hand away.

"I am glad you are having fun, baby." you tease him at the use of a petname already. You wiggle your hips and hear a groan from him. "And you say I'm easy."

The smile from your lips changes into a moan, as you feel him catching his head against your entrance and pressing against it teasingly before he pulles back, making you whine. "Please."

"Please what?" he asks. You didn't miss the teasing tone in his voice, it was his turn to play with you now. "I need you inside. Please" you begged, pouting against his desk as you tried to look back at him, even though it is hard from your position. Joost releases the back of your neck to grab both of your wrists in one large hand, keeping them restrained against your lower back, as he slides his dick slowly into you. The stretch is there, but it is quickly replaced by pleasure when he starts to move dragging against your walls, there is no resistance at how wet you are.

He speeds up the pace of his hips against you, the slapping echoing louder in the room as he abuses your g-spot with his dick. "What's wrong? Too much?" Joost asks, faux sympathy laced in his voice. You can only moan in response. "That's too bad. You wanted this, so you're going to fucking take it." He groans.

He reaches down to rub your clit, feeling you clench around him. Your legs are shaking from the intense pleasure flooding your body. Joost's balls slapping harshly against your clit, making your brain turn to mush as he fucks you so deep.

He is getting embarrassingly close to his release, he hasn't gotten laid in awhile and you are making it so hard for him to last. He leans forward, his chest flush against your back as he crushes you with his weight, his hand restraining your wrists being crushed between your bodies, his mouth right against your ear as he says, "So fucking good for me."

Your eyes roll back in your head each time his fat tip brushes against your sweet spot deep inside you. "Would you have said yes to that guy asking you out?" He whispers, his deep voice in your ear sending goosebumps down your spine. His possessiveness makes you feel hot all over.

"Yes." you lie to see his reaction. "I wanted to agree."

"Oh yeah?" his thrusts get harder, both of his hand gripping your hips, moving you to meet his thrusts. "Would you let him fuck you like this?"

Your pussy squeezes tightly around his cock as he fucks you open for him. He keeps his weight against you, his balls slapping against your thighs making lewd noises to echo around the cafe. "Answer me."

"No." you confess. "I would have never gone with him. I already said I only want you."

"Good." he says and your moans increase in frequency, you are squeezing him impossibly tight. "I'm so close" you moan feeling the familiar pleasure spread in your lower stomach. His weight on you, the fact that it is a public place, empty but public nonetheless, his smell all around you, his sharp thrusts inside you make you closer to your peak by the second. "Do it. Cum all over my cock, pretty girl, c'mon." He coos into your ear, his own dick twitching inside you with his impending release as he keeps the same pace up, working you higher and higher to your orgasm.

Your eyes screw shut and your mouth falls open in a loud moan. "Yeah, that's it- oh fuck" Joost groans as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your moans sound shaky as the rest of your body jolts as it was wracked with your high.

Joost's hips still against your ass as his cock twitches inside you with every rope of cum he shoots deep inside. His balls clench with his cock as he releases inside you, groaning loudly against your ear. You whine back, keeping your thighs pressed together as he rolls his hips against you, letting your walls milk him entirely before he stops moving. "So good." Joost huffs as he comes down from his high, his body crushing yours even more as he relaxed against you from such intense orgasm.

He was still deep inside you and he could already feel how his cum was spilling out around his dick from how much he came. "It is getting hard to breathe..." you whisper against the desk, your cheek being squished into the wood by his body on you. Joost quickly stands up. "Sorry." he groans as he slowly pulls his spent cock out of you.

You hiss as he slides out of you. Your walls clenching around him in instinct, making him wince as your pussy hugs his tip before he slid it fully out of you. He reaches over your body to grab the tissues on the side of his desk, grabbing a couple as he wipes gently against your thighs. He cleans up himself and tucks back into his pants.

He helps you to your feet, you stand on shaky legs, reaching around his shoulders for support. He pulls your panties back up and fixes your skirt.

You can feel his arms wrap around your waist, helping you stand and come back to Earth. You realise you are hugging, he just came inside you, but you are melting at the simple hug.

"Thank you." you say quietly looking up at him from where your head lays on his shoulder.

"Thanking me? For what? Did I fuck you so well?" he asks, looking down at you, tucking a strand behind your ear. Something has changed in him, you can tell, he seems softer.

"For letting me stay." you say. "And yes, you did fuck well. I can still barely stand." you laugh.

He smiles at that, your words boasting his ego. "You can stay any time."

"Any time?" your voice comes out almost a squeak how excited you are.

"We are literally open 24/7." he says after a pause and laughs, you slap his chest lightly and laugh too.

[247-diaperboy]

Like We Don't Know

Bruce and Mitchel sat with you in the living room, while Joal, your secret Daddy, was in the kitchen. They were Daddy’s oldest friends. even though you knew them for years now, it always felt like they were Daddy’s friends and not yours.

Even though you were all teammates who played on the same football team. On short notice, Daddy invited them to come over. The three of you just sat there, watching a rewind of a game, while Daddy made dinner.

“Joal, what about that dinner?” Mitchel yelled from across the house.

“Almost done,” Daddy answered.

A notification on the TV screen appeared. It was a live show you waited to watch the whole week. The remote was on the coffee table, and as you reached it, Bruce took it.

“Nope, we want to watch this,” Bruce said.

“What do you mean? It’s just another rewind, give me the remote,” you said.

“Again… we’re watching it,” he said, not even looking at you.

You knew Bruce can be a dick, but it was your house, not his.

“Bruce, I’m not kidding, it’s my house, give it back, now,” you said in your most authoritarian voice.

He turned his gaze towards you, annoyed, saying “Look now, just stop, or I’ll put you in your place”. 

“What?!” you raised your voice.

Bruce took the remote into his lap, put his legs over the coffee table, and crossed them. He let his body sink into the sofa and then started to talk while watching the screen.

“We are done playing this game of pretend, Mich and I, with you and Joal. Joal told us long ago about your arrangement. We know he is the Daddy of this house, and you are the house boy, or may I say, baby.”

You blushed furiously.

“Even now, we can see the bulge of the diaper you think you’re hiding, poorly so. We know you use them because you’re having accidents, we know he treats you like a toddler when nobody’s around, and we even know about that fucking huge nursery he’d put you in for the nights.”

“Joal!” you called for your partner to come over.

“You know what? enough,” Bruce got up and walked to the hallway, opened a door then came back.

Joal came, standing in front of it all.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” you asked him, almost begging, on the verge of tears.

Joal just stood there, Mitchel still sat on the couch, and Bruce came by very close to you, you both were standing.

“He isn’t going to say something, but I will. You are not just the baby of this house, you are a baby. With Daddy Joal, and with us, here or any other place. You are misbehaving and not letting us have a good evening. We won’t tolerate a tantrum from a big baby like you,” he said and put out from his hand your big baby blue pacifier.

You were shaking a bit, from the embarrassment, from how you were reduced from a man to a baby in an instant, from the way he talked down at you.

“You have two choices, take the pacifier and calm down, or I’ll spank you over my knee in front of your daddy, what do you choose?” he asked and held the pacifier in front of you.

You began to tear up, took a step forward, and took the pacifier into your mouth.

You looked at Mitchel, Daddy, and Bruce and began to sob. You didn’t notice but you wet your diaper in the middle of this storm. The diaper felt so good against your erecting peepee while you cried.

[ldr13beaches]

⋆˙⟡ 𝑀𝒾𝓃𝒾 𝑔𝑜𝓁𝒻- 𝐻𝒶𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝐿𝑒𝓌𝒾𝓈 𝓍 𝒴/𝒩

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the lush green of the mini golf course. It was one of those perfect afternoons where the air felt fresh but warm, and you could not be happier. Harry stood a few feet ahead of you, casually adjusting his cap, his focus more on you than the game. You tried to shake off the fluttering feeling in your chest, but it was impossible. He had that effect on you—he always had.

"Alright, Y/N," Harry said, his voice smooth and teasing. "Let’s see if I have any real competition today." You glare at your boyfriend, and stick your middle finger up at him, trying not to crack a smile. You both knew how competitive you were, and Harry always found entertainment in teasing you.

You walk up to take your turn, placing your pink ball down on the starting dot. Harry watched you line up your shot, amused by the grumpy look on your face already. He had always loved seeing you get competitive. Harry watched as you stuck your tongue out in concentration, swinging the golf club.

Much to his entertainment your ball went flying at an angle, landing nowhere near the hole. He chuckled and shook his head. "Unlucky," he grins. As you turned around with a pout, Harry couldn't help but smirk at your face. 

“That didn’t count. Redo!" You shout quickly running to go pickup your ball. Harry, who had tried to stifle his laughter, couldn’t hold it in any longer. You ignore him and quickly pick your ball up before he can stop you, placing it back on the green, immediately hitting it again. Your second hit was not so bad, but Harry was still amused.

Half an hour later and 17 more terrible shots later, you were finally at the last hole. Although the pair of you could be extremely competitive, you were both simple enjoying each others company. Harry leaned in, placing a kiss on your temple as you readied your final shot. "Ready to lose?" he teased.

"Piss off. We're only 5 points apart." You shot back, adjusting your stance and narrowing your eyes at the hole, willing yourself to focus. You hit the ball, way too hard and it flew over the side of the green, making a beeline straight for the river that ran alongside the course. You both just look each other and burst out laughing.

"Fair play Haz. You win." You grin, holding your hand out to shake, and ignored you hand and instead grabbed your waist, pulling you close, and kissing your face all over, making you squirm and laugh. You gently held his face, rubbing your thumbs over his rosy cheeks, silencing him for a moment. His soft, blue eyes locked with yours, and his messy blonde hair tumbled slightly over his forehead, making him look effortlessly perfect. Harry’s gaze softened, and he leaned in just enough that his breath brushed against your lips.

"What?" he murmured, his voice low and warm, the kind of voice that made your chest tighten in the best way.

“Nothing,” you whispered, your heart fluttering as you closed the gap between you, pressing your lips softly against his. He sighed into the kiss, one of his hands moving to rest on your waist, pulling you a little closer.

When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, the feeling of his warm skin grounding you. “I love you,” you murmured, a quiet confession that felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“I love you too,” Harry replied, his voice filled with sincerity. He brushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear and smiled, his eyes never leaving yours.

He checks his watch and we realise how late it had gotten. "You'd better take your last shot then," I hum.

You couldn’t help but steal a glance at Harry as he lined up for his final shot. You noticed everything, whether it was the small crease between his brows as he focused, or the muscles in his arms flexing just enough as he gripped the putter—everything about him had you feeling MANY things. When he hit the ball it landed just shy of the hole, and you couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped your lips, despite his failed attempt. “Almost,” you teased with a grin. "Your welcome by the way, any shot following mine looks fucking brilliant."

You chewed on your lip absentmindedly as you watched Harry stretch, his movements slow and deliberate. The way his arms reached above his head, muscles flexing beneath his shirt, made you want him more. Harry turned to face you after his shot, a confident grin spreading across his face, realising you’d been staring at him the entire time.

"Something on your mind?" he teased, his voice low and playful, his grin widening as he took a small step closer. His grin broadened, a hint of teasing mischief in his eye.

"Just admiring the view," you smile. He then grabs your hand, and walks you to the exit putting both your clubs away. As you approach his car he opens your door.

"Get in," he smirks.

[idciminlove]

FIGHTER.

Part Four - Blue

Kang Dae Ho x f!reader

Cinnamonacid on AO3

Warnings - fights, blood, anxiety, anger issues, angst, slight daddy issues, scary men, etc.

During the vote, things take a turn for the worst.

You did as told. Clicked the red “x” button to leave, and went over onto your side, watching anxiously as the other players casted their votes. Everything stopped once player 230 voted, with 456 speaking out once again. You stood behind him, watching as the other players pressed him for information asking, How did he know about the first game? Was he a plant? Was he working for the other side?

It didn’t make sense. If he was, then why was he so desperately trying to warn you? Why was he trying to save you? Everyone was shouting and arguing, and then- he explained it.

He had done it all before. Played these games, won the money. He was the last one left, and all the other players died. 456 players, 456 people, and only one made it out. If you keep playing, you’re all going to die. You’re going to die. You don’t want to die.

Your chest felt tight. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Panic and dread made your stomach twist, your lungs constricting. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

And then player 230 stepped forward, out of the group of blue “o”s who wanted to stay. “If you’ve played these games, then you can give us some tips, and help us all win.”

“He’s won this. We can all win. Let’s make some money!” Player 100, the old insolent man added, the one who had been shouting at 456 this whole time.

They were cheering now. Cheering for another game. Make some money. As if they aren’t making money off of other people’s deaths. As if other people wouldn’t have to die for them to make this money. Player 230 was cheering. He was smiling, and he still had blood on his face. Blood from the innocent people he killed. Blood from that man you knew. The man who believed in you.

You clenched your fists and gritted your teeth. Breathe. Just Breathe.

You tried to hold back, tried to calm yourself. But you couldn’t. The fuse was lit, and you exploded.

“Are you fucking stupid?” You snapped, stepping in front of 456, face to face with 230. “Do you think this is a joke? You’re making money off of other people’s deaths. You’re killing each other. You want to listen to him? He shoved people during the game. Innocent people that had families, wives and children. He killed them and for what? Because he thought it was a joke? Thought it was funny to push people around?”

You started to shove him. “You want to push people around asshole? You think it’s fun? I’ll show you fun.”

He smirked at you. You saw red. You slapped him. Slapped him so hard that he stumbled backward slightly, his cheek imprinted into a bright red shape of your hand. The other players gasped in surprise. You went to hit him again, but another player, his friend, 124, grabbed your arm, trying to intervene. “Alright, easy now-”

“Don’t touch me!” Your instincts kicked in, and you drove your elbow right into his face. He doubled over and grabbed his nose, watching the blood drip onto his hand. He snapped.

“You psycho bitch, I’ll fucking kill you!” The players on your side rushed to your aide, one of the men holding him back.

“I’d like to see you try!” Someone held you back, and you fought against them, eager to get more hits on 124, ready to fight. Ready to hurt someone, and make them feel the pain you had been put through, that that innocent man had been put through. The guards intervened, pointing their guns at you and 124.

The man who stood held you back stood in front of you now, holding you by the shoulders, looking you in the eye. You recognized him as player 456. “Calm down. I know you’re frustrated, I am too, but this isn’t something worth dying over.”

You gazed past him, at the guards pointing the guns at you. You glowered at them, before looking back at 456. You could see the sadness in his eyes. The loss. The look of a broken man. One you knew too well.

You took a deep breath. The fire inside you dimmed down to a dull roar. You shrugged his hands off your shoulders, stepping back into the crowd. The guards lowered their guns.

“Starting now, any further actions that interfere with the voting process will not be allowed.”

–

O - 183

X - 182

You had no other choice. You had to stay here and play another game. Where you could get killed. Where you probably would get killed. You walked back to your bunk, feeling the devastation, fear, and anxiety run through you.

You heard your name being called. You turned back, seeing Dae-Ho, the blue “o” patch clear on his chest. As if things couldn’t get any worse. Betrayal and anger bubbled in your stomach.

“I saw what happened, and I wanted to-”

“Are you serious? You voted to stay? After what we just went through?” You didn’t even let him finish his sentence.

“I just thought we made a good team and-”

“And what? You think we’d win the games together? You heard what 456 said. We’re all going to die here. We don’t even know each other. We’re not a team. We’re not friends. We’re not anything. So if you want to stay and get killed, that’s fine by me. Just leave me out of it.”

You could see the hurt on his face from your words. You didn’t mean them. You really didn’t. You were just…scared. You wanted to survive this place. The last thing you needed was to depend on someone else surviving too.

“Okay…Sorry. I’ll leave you alone.” You turned away, unable to watch him walk off. It was for the best. You don’t need anyone now. You just need to live and get the money for your mom.

–

Thanos’ cheek was still throbbing from your slap, and he could feel a slight bruise starting to form as he ran his fingers over it. For such a pretty little thing, you sure packed one hell of a punch. He gazed at you from across the dormitory, eyeing you, watching you unzip your jacket and place it on the edge of your bed, his eyes roaming over the curve of your body, admiring how the sweats hugged your ass. He played with the cross around his neck, smirking to himself.

Nam-gyu stood in front of him, leaning against the bedpost and blocking his view. “You doing alright man?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? I know that bitch hit me pretty hard. Damn near broke my nose.” Thanos hardly listened to him, gazing over his shoulder to look at you.

Nam-Gyu followed his gaze, looking over at you, before looking back at him, smirking. “You wanna do something to her? Hurt her for hurting us?”

Thanos gazed at you, before gazing back at him, bobbing his head along to an invisible rhythm. “Nah, man. We’ll get her later. The hottest chicks are always the feistiest.”

Nam-Gyu grinned. “So, what do you have in mind?”