#My bathing fixation

[thedevillionaire]

come to me

His relief at seeing her is tangible, primal, as he quietly insists he’s just tired – the relentless intensity over the last week, or two, or even dear gods has it really been three finally easing up. Although maybe, in its own way, that easing was part of the problem.

He says it’ll pass soon; he knows there’s no hiding it but he’s hoping that’s the truth, and the last thing he wants is to worry her.

He doesn’t quite succeed.

With a frown of concern, she watches him take his coat off, an unspoken exhaustion laced through his movement as he increases the hearthfire’s intensity, and she passes him the steaming cup of jasmine tea she’d made for herself only moments ago. He gratefully accepts its welcome small warmth with a soft thanks, love, and she doesn’t miss the edge of congestion in his consonants, nor the dullness in his usually intensely vibrant eyes, the encroaching hints of pinkness to his nose.

They take a seat together on the couch and he puts the teacup on the table, apologises to her for all his absences lately, sniffles at first softly then harder, sharper. At his catch of breath she passes him a tissue, and quickly another, as his expression crumbles in surrender to the recurrent insistent need he’s been unable to shake: urgent, unforgiving and imperative, the vestiges of his energy rip-torn ravaged as he hurriedly turns from his beloved, unable to fight it, sneezing in urgent, violent triplicate – heavy, throat-tearing, disorienting.

Her heartwarm blessing is a cherished sanctuary as she trails gentle fingers through his hair, drawing him closer, and oh she always loves his touch but he’s far too warm, the thickness in his breathing impossible to miss. She murmurs soothing softnesses, presses a lingering kiss to his forehead, and holds him a little closer as

“Ahh-HEHHTSShhuu!”

she’s not sure about this passing soon at all.

---

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

I was reading sea glass gardens for like the 8th time in a row (listen I was praying to the gods for a fic focuses on Megumi & Yuuta, for a fic that shows Megs dynamic with the Zenins more, and for a fun little gojo adopts the fushiguro siblings and forced his friends to play aunt and uncle. You checked all my boxes. I am in debt to you now.) and its the way I'm still seeing the little details that should've been so fucking obvious to me —

Megumi and Tsumiki fucking around and adopting some of Gojo’s habits and sayings? I know he was so proud that his children is becoming mini versions of him. Toji is crying in the depths of hell while Mamaguro is happy as hell in the pearly gates.

“It’s a garden” it took so long for me to peep that this was his domain. Like tfw when your domain is fucking you up. I pray that Gege shows us his completed domain. Actually I PRAY GEGE LET MEGUMI SHOW OFF HIS FUCKING POTENTIAL. But alas Gege is a coward.

THE NICOTINE PATCH? Oh Shoko my beloved. I get her. I fucking hate cancer sticks but if I had to spend time with corpses, being forced to converse with the higher ups, and having to be friends with Gojo and Geto AND witness their divorce. Well. I would’ve smoked something too. Like goddamn these bitches should’ve been at the club.

The little callbacks to the playbooks? How petty the sorcerer world gotta be for them to have cheat sheets on their enemies. Is that not crazy? Is this who they are? Petty bastards.

toji pulling up to get married in sweats. megumi killing curses at such a young age for his sister? toji giving megumi shit to get him to stfu? oh megumi you dodged a bullet with toji.

BUT WHAT I REALLT WANTED TO WAS THE BATHHOUSE. Megumi needs to go feral as a threat cause imagine how humiliating that must’ve been. A bunch of assholes & such watching you like some fucking cult. I really hope that Megumi and Gojo have some type of reassuring talk about his time at the Zenins.

(Yaga and Gojo going at it while Panda in the room is so funny to be but…it’s also kind of sad. Like imagine seeing your dad figure basically be okay, well not okay but not willing to fight back, about the higher ups and everything.)

Obsessed with the fact that I can toss up what seems to me to be a random niche interest and find a community of people who wanted exactly that. I’m thrilled I checked off your boxes.

The bathhouse was designed to be humiliating by nature. I talked about it more on another post (but fuck if I know where it is), but the point of including that whole bit was that I really couldnt think of any better way to emphasize that megumi wasn’t a person to them.

On its face, the private bathhouse with servants tending to it could be a sign of status. It’s kind of an old world nobility thing to have? Which fits with the Zenin, who are very traditional and value Megumi as their most treasured person to be born to the clan in centuries. He would be presumptive heir if Gojo hadn’t intervened. So they’d easily be able to cast this in their own minds as a good thing, as a way they’re taking care of him. He’s not subjected to the communal bathhouses or small private bathrooms like the majority of the clan—they’ve given him his own private facilities and servants to care for him in it.

However, once you take away Megumi’s consent, it becomes an absolutely humiliating and degrading experience that only happens for the Zenin’s comfort and not his own.

I spoke about this in the other post in more detail, but I tried to imply that this wasn’t the first time the Zenin had done this to him. And there’s two points that kind of implicate that—when Maki’s talking to Yuuta about how it used to be when Megumi was a kid, she says the first thing that they would do when he arrived in the clan was hand him over to the servants to make him presentable. She also talks about how viciously he hated the way they’d make him look in the clan, including stomping the clothes they’d make him wear in the mud. When Megumi himself is talking about the bathhouse, he says he was given over to the servants like when he was a kid. This wasn’t a new experience for him. They weren’t doing this to him for the first time. They did this to him when he was a kid, and he’s reliving all of that trauma anew.

In my mind, it was a product of how selfish the Zenin’s love for megumi is.

He’s their favorite doll. He’s a possession. They want him to look and act exactly the way they expect from him, and they despise any divergence from what they want the ten shadows to be. And they hate it when they’re reminded of how Gojo took him from them.

They don’t want him dressed in modern clothes. They don’t want his hair styled in a manner similar to Gojo’s. They want him to look like the Ten Shadows they always wanted, and one surefire way of controlling that is to simply do it themselves, whether or not megumi is on board.

And the thing is? It is such a fundamentally minor thing to let someone bathe and dress themselves. It would have cost the Zenin so so little to let Megumi do it. Even if they were still dictating what clothes he wore and how he styled his hair (which would still rob him of his autonomy on its own, they could have at least let him do the actual act of bathing and dressing himself. They could have violated him a little bit less than they already were. The biggest inconvenience it would have risked to them would be him doing something not to their exact standards and losing a few minutes to making him redo it. But on Megumi’s end, it symbolizes a huge source of autonomy and comfort. Letting Megumi bathe himself really does impact so little for them, but for Megumi, it could have saved him from lasting trauma.

The Zenin do it to him anyway because they value their minor conveniences over his very bodily autonomy. They don’t even recognize that as a genuine concern. He’s a possession to them. An object. They don’t actually love him, and the love they think they have is actively dangerous to him. They will violate him in a very fundamental way just so they can make sure he looks how the ten shadows is supposed to look, and they won’t care.

Being forcibly bathed against your will is just humiliating, especially at Megumi’s age, and it’s one of the things that hurt him the worst out of everything the Zenin just did to him. I think Megumi takes physical pain better than he does humiliation. Having to be exposed and vulnerable the way he was with other people watching was a more effective torture than locking him in a room with curses for days.

But there’s extra layers to it if you consider 1) this is something the Zenin have done to him before and 2) this is something that he could have stopped.

When Megumi was six, he was definitely at the age where he was already bathing himself. Some parenting books say parents should still be helping at that age, but his parents were completely checked out well before then. He had already been handling all his hygiene needs on his own. Having strange adults force him to let them do it for him was a traumatizing and infantilizing experience that represented one of the many ways the Zenin robbed him of all control over his own life when they had him.

But now it’s happening again.

And megumi probably didn’t think the Zenin would do that to him again, walking into this. He probably explained it away as them doing that to him because he was still a little kid at the time. He told himself it happened because he was six, and he’s not six anymore.

Having it all happen again was a very visceral reminder of how helpless his abusers used to make him, and immediately kicked him back down to that level with a very potent reminder. It’s trauma reawakening trauma. He felt like he was six again. He probably told himself for a long time that it would never happen again and it still did.

The other thing is that he’s a lot more capable in a fight than a six year old. He’s a grade two jujutsu sorcerer. He’s a fighter. And he’s being manhandled by servants who don’t have a lot of cursed energy, if they’re even sorcerers at all, and aren’t meant to be combatants. These are people he should be able to defend himself against easily. He should be able to stop them from doing this to him again.

For whatever reason, he couldn’t.

Maybe Gojos theory about them having something on him was right. Or maybe he was too worn down and broken from the cursed spirits. Maybe it was something else. Whatever the reason, this is something that he would have told himself he was strong enough to stop, and then he wasn’t. He either had to let it happen or couldn’t stop it even if he tried. It’s a new level of helplessness and humiliation that it made him experience.

In short, megumi does deserve to go feral over the bathhouse, and probably needs to. He’s really not okay over it. It would probably be cathartic.

[velnica]

Bath Day 26.11.2023 (Sanson/Guydelot)

Guydelot is more than happy to let Sanson ramble off his entire day... as long as they're warm and cosy in their bath, with extra fire crystals lest Sanson's prose grows overlong.

[saturdaymournings]

Free lush face mask from the person that works there and gave it to me when I was at work is a reason to live actually

[labtechkarin]

When Amanda yelled at John and said, "Fix me motherfucker! I'm standing right here." <3 my poor little meow meow

[tteokdoroki]

ᯓ★ ONCE UPON A FUCK ME !? — kinktober 2024 !

mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the filthiest fairytale of them all? your favourite storybook characters, reimagined.

✧ there’s a note from your fairy godmother - hello my angels !! welcome to another kinktober. i hope you guys are as excited as i am. wave your magic wand here ! to join the taglist. rb for a happy ending ₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡.

✧ read the blurb - each of the following fairytales contain nsfw and dark themes. fem!reader. each fic comes with its own warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact.

✐ᝰ.ᐟ CHAPTER ONE RAPUNZEL - satoru gojo.

[OCT 1ST ★ BONDAGE] once upon a time, a girl trapped in a tower with nothing but her extremely lavish, long hair as company decides…fuck it and sleeps with a handsome stranger to get what she wants.

additional kinks. orgasm control, sensory deprivation, edging, thigh riding, spit kink, outer-course, begging, switching.

✐ᝰ.ᐟ CHAPTER EIGHT BEAUTY & THE BEAST - katsuki bakugou.

[OCT 8TH ★ MONSTER FUCKING] once upon a time, a village girl thinks to herself — fuck it! being trapped inside a castle with a monstrous sexy bloody beast isn’t so bad… she might as well make it worth her while.

additional kinks. bath sex, soft sex, blood play, size kink, praise kink, body worship, body modifications.

✐ᝰ.ᐟ CHAPTER FIFTEEN CINDERELLA - tobio kageyama.

[OCT 15TH ★ MUTUAL MASTURBATION] once upon a time, a soon-to-be crowned princess, once down on her luck, says fuck it and settles on consummating her marriage with the crown prince before they’re actually due to be married.

additional kinks. oral sex, clothed sex, cherry chasing, first time, corruption.

✐ᝰ.ᐟ CHAPTER SIXTEEN THE LITTLE MERMAID - eijirou kirishima.

[OCT 16TH ★ FUCK OR DIE] once upon a time, a princess decides — fuck it! fuck the engagement. who cares when a sexy half-man, half -fish…prince? whatever! needs to drown her in an ocean of pleasure in order to survive…

additional kinks. underwater sex, ritualistic sex, voice kink, pain kink, choking, quickie.

✐ᝰ.ᐟ CHAPTER TWENTY TWO SLEEPING BEAUTY - seishiro nagi.

[OCT 22ND ★ SOMNOPHILIA] once upon a time, a brave knight, destined to marry someone she’d never met, says fuck it and plans to reap the rewards of saving the prince from eternal slumber. without realising that he’s already awake…

additional kinks. hold the moan, overstimulation, cockwarming, dacryphilia, outer-course, free use, dub con, cumplay.

✐ᝰ.ᐟ CHAPTER TWENTY NINE LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD - yuuji itadori.

[OCT 29TH ★ KNOTTING] once upon a time, a curious little girl says fuck it and disobeyes her mother’s only wish. stay on the path when you visit your granny, you don’t want to get snatched up by the big bad wolf.

additional kinks. wolf hybrids, mating season, oral fixation, sweat + scent kink, pregnancy kink, lactation, breeding, a/b/o.

✐ᝰ.ᐟ BONUS CHAPTER: GOLDILOCKS & THE THREE BEARS - bachira, isagi 'n nagi.

[OCT 31ST ★ CUCKING] once upon a time, a sweet little bear hybrid on her own in the woods decides... fuck it! she'll teach that pesky thief goldilocks what it really means to share. with the help of friends, of course.

additional kinks. bear hybrids, double penetration, mutual masturbation, deep throating, brat taming, exhibitionism, multiple orgasms, foursome, dub-con, coercion, marking, oral sex.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[etherical-angel]

been in a depression(due to my brain having depression) lately.....not goooddddd😇

i think most of it comes from just succumbing to my beliefs of 'everything is hopeless, choose pleasure over effort' as a way of control yknow. its weird, since im aware that the 'effort'(doing chores and selfcare) is what life is about, and that it will lead to betterness. but my brain sees it as like....participating in a game i dont agree with. and that i should play my own instead(laying in bed and daydreaming -> giving happy chemicals). ive done a bit of drawing, but most have just been with the motivation that im drawing to impress someone else. which is better than nothing ig. theres so much more i want to be doing, and i just think that i'd be more able to do it if my room was clean. probably. i havent unpacked yet and my floor is covered in clothes and i need to do laundry. and i think its been over a week since i bathed(my hair is RAPIDLY falling out and i cant tell if its more than normal or just due to not washing it...). idk, hard to keep track of the days.

i have a doctors appointment on thursday finally, and my head still hurts, but thankfully my anxiety over it has moved on(i no longer careeeee).

whatever back to the vent -> its the frustration that no matter how many times i try, i always return to This. it clouds being able to see a future that i want, and fuels my suicidal beliefs. knowing that i can do anything if i just put in the Effort, knowing its logically all my fault, knowing that im alone in this. i dont have someone i can just ask to help clean my room, someone to ask to help me do creative things, someone to ask to just help me cuz i. dont know how to ask. or what to ask for. ig this is why ive just craved a lover so bad, since i think theyd wordlessly know what to do. i wouldnt have to ask and i wouldnt have to know, theyd just do it. and i'd feel ok. i also know this is literally what caretaker alters are for, and one will come out eventually, but i cant just force it. especially when we're currently so convinced of hopelessness n despair. like literally the whole point of DID is so that someone else can do this shit, and we cant even do that properly....i feel like im so close to just snapping out of it tho. like im just missing some small realization and itll click into place. like its already there in my brain but theres a blockage keeping it from surfacing. ive been better before, i just keep forgetting what made me think that way. and how it was that i was viewing things. maybe if i listen to the right music and just try to focus on remembering, try really hard to let the urges go, think about how good life could be(despite the world n my body not being ideal) if i just saw things in a positive light, and try to view being positive as not a way of losing control..maybe i could force a switch. if i could get a balence of being aware of how horrible everything is, but also knowing that being positive and doing Effort is also fighting the system just as much.

anyway heres some pics i took a couple days ago👇👇👇👇👇

[realcube]

tw // fingering, fem! reader, pet names, alcohol mentions & semi drunk sex

he likes to take care of you when you come home from nights out.

it's cute how your hair is a little messy and make-up is a little smudged. looks like you've had a fun time, and that's what he loves to see. you're still a bit tipsy but even you can tell that reek of alochol and sweat, so you opt to clean up. and of course your caring boyfriends offers his help.

he leads you to the bathroom, while you cling to his shirt and stumble around, causing him to slip a sturdy arm around your waist. he sets you down carefully at the edge of the tub before he starts to run a warm bath. while it fills up, he helps you strip nude, gently tugging off your clothes over your head, laughing together when you get momentarily trapped.

soon, he guides you into the bath and holds both of your hands as he aids you in sitting down. "hot enough?" he asks, and smiles when you nod in confirmation.

picking up a bottle of shower gel, he pours a dollop into his hand and wipes it across your back, rubs it into your shoulders. he continues this process across your front, massaging your tits, then moves to your feet and works his way up to your thighs until you are covered with foamy bubbles.

"my soapy girl." he muses, his hand wnadering from your knees to up between your thighs and he finds himself idly playing with your clit while gazing lovingly into your eyes, enraptured by your peaceful state. how your eyes would drift close but reopen after every loving stroke.

you breath heavily at his lustful touch, melting into it until a sharp gasp is pulled from you when his two fingers slip into your pussy, followed by a quiet yet wanton moan as he slowly begins to move. the water waves and splashes with every soft thrust of his fingers, while he stares at you, fixated on every slight twitch of your features.

"relax, baby, please. i'll take care of you."

suna, akaashi, SUGAWARA, kita, AIZAWA, (pro-hero) kirishima, draken, MITSUYA, kunikida, ranpo, atsushi

[witchywithwhiskey]

first and last

pairing: childhood best friend!steve rogers x female reader

summary: after more than a decade away from your home town—and your childhood best friend—you return. everything is exactly the same, but also, entirely different.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), fluff, angst, smut, drunken antics, some arguing, drunk masturbation (f) with an audience, semi-public, choking, dirty talk, praise kink, begging, boundaries, very light bdsm vibes, references to past sexual intimacy (piv sex, oral sex [f receiving]), nicknames (buttercup, baby), aftercare

word count: 8.8k

a/n: this is my entry in @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar Challenge, and i've been working on it since june so i'm very excited to post it!!! i wanted to make a sundae i'd actually eat so i used the prompts Butterscotch (childhood friends) and Caramel (drunk/delirious/not in their right mind). it also might be a bit literal to have Steve working at an ice cream shop but whatever!!

i mentioned when i teased this fic that i'd thought about turning it into a much longer story/potentially saving it for a novel, but honestly i just don't know when or if i'll ever have time to do that. but these scenes don't necessarily follow right after each other, so if they feel disconnected, that's why. they're just the ones i wanted to write 😅

The sidewalk of Brambleberry Cove was warm from a full day under the August sun, the concrete gritty with sand beneath your bare feet as you walked the rest of the short distance to Seaside Scoops from your rental house a few blocks away. 

The sun dipped low on the western horizon, casting long shadows over the coastal town like stretching fingers reaching for the Atlantic Ocean. You could hear the steady sound of the crashing waves over the near distant sand dunes, their rhythm a background to your walk. 

It could’ve been a peaceful moment—you were back in your home town, surrounded by familiar sights and sounds and smells. But you were in a wretched mood, and all you could focus on was everything wrong with the world and your current place in it.

There was, of course, the throbbing pain in your big toe from when you’d stubbed it moments ago on the cursed, charming sidewalk, as well as the slight sting on the sides of your foot where your flip flop straps had torn. Your ruined shoes dangled from your fingers because Brambleberry Cove didn’t have a trash can on every street corner like the city you were accustomed to living in. 

In addition to those grievances, the straps of your bathing suit—which you hadn’t worn in far too long and hadn’t realized had become too small—were digging into your shoulders and hips uncomfortably. And, though you’d only been walking for five minutes from the little bungalow you were renting, your thighs were already beginning to chafe beneath the simple dress you’d thrown on. 

All told, you were not in the mood to appreciate the simple beauty of Brambleberry Cove. Instead of admiring the sun-bleached cottages that gave way to the small coastal shops lining main street, and letting yourself sink into the comfort of being back in your tiny beachside home town, you were fixated on everything wrong in your life—both in that moment and the larger scheme of things.

In your defense, though, there was a lot wrong in your life. There’d had to be to get you back to your home town after so long away. 

There was the dream job you’d lost, the ex who’d left you for someone else, and the friends who’d all promised to be there for you, but then vanished when you actually needed help. The only people who’d come through for you were your parents, who’d had a friend willing to rent a little Brambleberry Cove bungalow to you for a fraction of its normal summer price since it was already August and they weren’t going to make much more money anyway. 

You’d had to pack up and leave the city where you’d built your life for 15 years, and move back to your home town, which you hadn’t seen in nearly that long since your parents had moved out west shortly after you’d graduated high school. Being back home made you feel like you weren’t only taking a single step backward, but moving leaps and bounds in the wrong direction. It made you feel like a failure. 

But you tried not to think about all that on your short walk to Seaside Scoops, instead focusing on the pain in your toe and the digging ache of your bathing suit. 

By the time you saw the familiar neon sign for the ice cream shop, it felt like finding an oasis in the desert. You picked up your pace, ignoring the way your body protested, the soles of your feet no longer used to walking on the sandy sidewalk like you’d done countless times growing up in Brambleberry Cove. 

You could see through the window that there was a short line in Seaside Scoops, and you hurriedly pushed through the door of the shop. Once inside, you breathed in the familiar scent of sugar and hot fudge and reveled in the feel of the air conditioner ghosting over your sun-warmed shoulders. 

Surreptitiously, you shoved your ruined flip flops into the garbage just inside the door and got in line behind the couple with their two small children. You glanced around the shop, not really taking it in, and hoped whoever was working behind the counter was still lax on the ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’ rule that had theoretically been in place since before you were born—but had never been enforced in practice. 

Finally looking to the counter, wondering idly if you’d recognize who was working or if it’d be some local teen that had been a baby the last time you’d been to Brambleberry Cove, you were shocked to see who was working at Seaside Scoops. Your belly swooped like you were standing on a boat on the choppy sea, your heart racing when you recognized the man behind the counter. At one time, he’d been the boy you’d shared so much of your childhood with, so many of your summers with. 

When you got a good look at him, you were almost surprised you recognized him so fast. He was no longer the scrawny teenager you’d left behind when you’d gone off to college and never looked back. He looked so different from the boy you’d known well enough you could recall his face in perfect detail, but, in so many ways, exactly the same.

On the whole, it was a shock to see the man Steve Rogers had become. 

Sandy brown hair fell on either side of his handsome, suntanned face, swept back like he had a habit of running his hands through it countless times a day. A short, well-kept beard decorated his strong jaw, bracketing a set of soft pink lips that were curved in a devastating grin. His bright blue eyes sparkled beneath the fluorescent lights of the shop, and when he spoke to the family in front of you in line, his voice rumbled like the distant roar of the ocean.

Seeing Steve Rogers for the first time in over 15 years made something loosen in your chest, anxiety uncoiling from around your heart and shaking free for the first time in a long time. A sense of safety and comfort washed over you, and you had the sudden thought that this was how you were supposed to feel about coming home. 

But you shoved that thought aside and continued your perusal of your childhood best friend, making note of all the ways he’d changed from the boy you’d known.

Thick, golden biceps were bare and bulging beneath the edge of his white t-shirt, and dense, brown hair covered corded forearms as Steve folded his arms on top of the ice cream case. He was tall—tall enough to lean over the case to talk to the kids with the couple in front of you, asking them about their favorite ice cream flavors and if they’d like to try anything new.

The kids, a boy and a girl, both stared up at him with wide eyes, shyness and wonder clear in their twin expressions. They looked to their parents for permission before shyly revealing what flavors they’d like to try. Steve gave a deep, hearty chuckle at their timidness, and complimented them on their choices, which seemed to make them both loosen up a bit.

Inexplicable heat flushed through your body at the sound of Steve’s deep laughter, and the easiness with which he interacted with the kids. You’d never been particularly good with children, mainly because you’d never had much of a chance to interact with any, and you’d never felt any particular desire to be around them. But seeing Steve looking like he did talking to those kids made your belly swoop again and something inside you pulse with a need you didn’t want to fully unpack.

Shoving those thoughts into a box in the back corner of your mind, you forced yourself to look away from your childhood friend and up at the menu that listed all the ice cream flavors. You’d been to Seaside Scoops hundreds of times in your life, if not thousands, and, at one time, you’d had the list memorized. 

Hopefully you still had that knowledge tucked away somewhere in your brain, because you weren’t taking in anything you were reading as you not-so-patiently waited for Steve to finish up with the customers in front of you.

It felt like forever, and by the time the family took their cups and cones of ice cream toward the side door that opened up into an outdoor seating area, you’d already cycled through three rounds of the same argument with yourself about why you should leave Seaside Scoops without talking to Steve. You couldn’t imagine your first conversation in 15 years going well.

But you couldn’t leave without talking to him. Not when he was right there and it had been so long and you were dying to know everything that he’d done in the last 15 years since you saw him last. 

Still, it took you a few extra seconds to gather the courage to lower your eyes from the menu board and finally look at your childhood friend. When you did, your gaze caught immediately on Steve’s, and your heart gave a little flip at the devastatingly charming smile on his impossibly handsome face.

“Hey there, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, his tone as friendly and familiar as it had always been. All of a sudden, it felt like no time had passed at all. 

“Hi, Steve,” you said, trying for the same casualness he’d achieved, but your voice sounded faint and faraway in your ears. The corners of your mouth flickered in a tremulous smile.

You couldn’t understand the surge of emotion filling your chest and rising in your throat, pricking at the backs of your eyes like you wanted to throw yourself into your oldest friend’s arms and sob about everything wrong in your life. 

The same deluge of emotion had hit you when you’d stubbed your toe on your walk to Seaside Scoops and you’d had to stand there by yourself, sucking in deep breaths of salty Brambleberry Cove air, nails biting into the flesh of your palms to keep yourself from breaking down. 

Just as you’d done then, you beat back the emotion, blinking your eyes rapidly to rid them of tears. Still, a thought needled you as you stood across the counter from Steve—the knowledge that if you did let yourself break down and cry, he wouldn’t hesitate to fold you into that broad chest of his, wrapping you up in his thick arms and holding you so securely, the world might not seem so grim anymore. 

You chalked it up to nostalgia and the rough time you were having, forcing yourself to take a deep breath and paste on a bright smile. Casting your eyes around Seaside Scoops, you pretended to give the place a real look, though you didn’t really notice much as you continued to blink back tears. 

“You work here now?” you asked lightly, looking at the new standee in the corner.

It was a cartoon shark holding up a sign advertising Seaside Scoops and their many ice cream flavors. But what caught your eye was that it looked a bit like the shark Steve had drawn for you when you’d gotten a bad grade sophomore year and wanted to cheer you up. It even had the same little sailor hat sitting perched on top of his head—which only made sense because sharks didn’t have blowholes, he’d told you at the time.

You’d smiled then, and you smiled again remembering it.

“Uhh,” Steve started, and you turned tear-free eyes back on your old friend, your gaze drawn to the way his bicep bulged against the sleeve of his t-shirt as he scuffed the back of his neck. There was a little bit of a sheepish tinge to his smile. “I actually own Scoops now,” he said in a rush, like he was confessing to something, though you couldn’t imagine what. “I bought it when Mr. Wallace retired down to Florida.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say, glancing around the ice cream shop with a keener eye.

The shark standee wasn’t the only new thing in the place. Everything, from the tables and chairs to the menu board and counter, looked slightly newer than you remembered. Nothing was wildly different, which was why you hadn’t noticed it when you first looked around. Everything just looked better than it should if it had aged a decade since you’d last stepped into the shop.

Something about it made you think Seaside Scoops looked exactly like your memory of it—but the polished, perfect version in your head, instead of the place as it had been. Yellowed with age and a lack of upkeep. It was genuinely astounding what Steve had done with the place and it took you a few moments to find the right words, though they still felt pale in comparison to the bittersweet nostalgia in your heart.

“The place looks great,” you said with a half smile as you turned back to Steve. A small thread of pride wormed through your heart at seeing what your oldest friend had accomplished and your smile widened when he brightened under your praise. “I like the shark,” you said, hooking a thumb over your shoulder at the standee. 

A bit of pink tinted Steve’s cheeks above his beard, and he cleared his throat. 

“Is a dipped twist still your favorite?” he asked, clearly trying to change the subject and your smile dimmed just a little. The Steve you’d known had been shy about showing his art to anyone but you, and it seemed that you’d been gone long enough to be lumped in with everyone else. 

You swallowed back a lump in your throat and nodded. “Yeah, that’s still my favorite,” you answered, more than a little surprised Steve remembered your order.

Sure, you’d gone to Seaside Scoops together countless times as kids. It had been your hangout spot for most of your childhood, and even into your teen years. You’d study together over a cup of cookie dough with sprinkles for Steve and a cone of vanilla and chocolate softserve dipped in chocolate sauce for you. But that was more than a decade ago.

Your heart gave a heavy squeeze when you remembered the night before you’d left Brambleberry Cove, the way Steve reminded you of the promise you’d made as children—that you’d always be friends. Your stomach twisted into knots as you were confronted with the reality that you hadn’t kept up your end of the deal. You’d left, and you’d allowed your oldest friend to become a stranger. 

You wondered if Steve remembered the promise you’d made, the reminder he’d given you as a parting gift, or if he’d forgotten. You wondered if he’d ever want to be friends again.

Steve’s back was to you, his wrist flicking expertly beneath the softserve machine as he filled up a sugar cone with the twist of chocolate and vanilla. You forced yourself to push aside the memories of the past, blinking back more tears before Steve could catch them in your eyes. 

You and Steve weren’t friends anymore, and you needed to accept that. It was unreasonable to hold him to a promise he’d made more than two decades ago, especially when you were the one who’d left and had barely tried to stay in touch between college classes and exploring your new city.

With a great amount of effort, you kept your mind blissfully blank as you let your gaze trail idly over Steve’s broad back, unable to stop yourself from noticing just how wide his shoulders were, or the way they moved beneath the soft, worn cotton of his t-shirt. He really did fill out the shirt well, his sides tapering down to a thin waist. And his ass looked particularly good in the curve-hugging denim of his jeans. 

As Steve turned around, you raised your eyes quickly and arranged your expression into one of innocence. Steve paused, giving you a shrewd look like he would’ve done when you were teenagers and you were hiding something from him, but then he just shook his head and laughed under his breath, turning to the chocolate sauce where he’d dip your ice cream cone. 

“So, what brings you back to Brambleberry Cove, buttercup?” Steve asked, his gaze focusing on dipping your ice cream just right, a look of determination on his face that was endlessly endearing. 

You grimaced at the exact moment he glanced up at you, and he chuckled at the face you made. The sound was smooth as warm caramel and sent a new wave of heat rolling down your spine. 

“That bad, huh?” he asked, genuine interest in his tone.

Although there was a point in your life when you could’ve told Steve anything, and the urge to do so still lingered deep in your bones, you knew your relationship was different. You couldn’t dump all your problems on your childhood friend after not talking to him for 15 years. You didn’t even know if you were still friends anymore. 

Plus, there was a small crowd gathering behind you as the late dinner rush started to filter into Seaside Scoops. Even if you’d wanted to tell Steve everything that had happened to you in the 15 years since you’d last seen him, it wasn’t the time. 

So you just gave him a sad smile and accepted the ice cream cone from Steve’s hand, ignoring the butterflies and ticklish warmth that fluttered through your body at his touch. You gripped the sugar cone tight—but not too tight—so you didn’t fumble it. 

“Yeah,” you whispered in answer to his question, leaving it at that. There was an awkward beat, and your eyes dropped to the ice cream that was already beginning to melt despite the air conditioning in the shop. Thankfully, you had an easy way to move past Steve’s questions. 

You pulled some cash from the wristlet where you’d also stashed your phone and I.D., asking, “What do I owe you?” because you figured it must’ve been more expensive than what you remembered. And you didn’t want to risk looking up at the menu and catching Steve’s eye, not wanting any of the emotions or heat that seemed to flood you whenever you looked at him.

But a large, warm, golden hand closed over your fumbling fingers, startling you enough to look up into the sky blue eyes of your childhood friend. Your lips fell open in surprise as tingling warmth worked its way up your arm from your hand, wrapping around your heart and making it beat harder. 

For a long moment, you simply stared at each other. Steve really had grown up and changed so much, the evidence in the weathered grooves of his forehead and the lines between his brows, but his eyes still looked the same—soft as clouds, warm as the summer sun. 

“It’s on the house,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest, the thrum of some emotion you couldn’t identify laced through his words. “It was nice to see an old friend,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze before he pulled his away.

It wasn’t until Steve straightened up to his full height that you realized he’d been leaning over the counter, and your faces had been very close together. Heat crept into your cheeks at the realization that Steve had been in your personal space, and all you’d thought about was his eyes. 

Shoving all the money in your hand into the tip jar, you muttered, “Thanks, Steve.” As you zipped up your wristlet, you noticed that some of your ice cream was in danger of dripping onto your hand.

Without thinking, you licked quickly around the edge of the sugar cone, a soft moan slipping free when the cool sweetness of the ice cream hit your brain.

Steve made a strangled sound that dragged your attention away from your treat, finding your childhood best friend looking away and coughing into his fist, a deeper pink flushing his cheeks. You quirked your eyebrow in confusion when he looked back at you, but his expression gave nothing away and you had to wonder if you’d imagined the noise. It had almost sounded…aroused.

Shaking that thought clear from your mind, you gave Steve a smile and began to step away from the counter so he could help the next customer.

Steve’s eyes lingered on you, and he offered you one last charming, friendly smile, raising his hand in a wave. “Don’t be a stranger, buttercup,” he rumbled, his low words managing to reach your ears over the chatter in the shop. He gave you a long look, emotion swirling in those familiar eyes of his, and your breath caught in your throat.

The intensity of his gaze and the warmth in his parting words hit you straight in the gut, and you stood stunned in front of the register while Steve turned and walked to the other end of the ice cream case to help the next people in line. 

For a long moment, you couldn’t get over the way Steve had been able to read your mind, to pluck the thought that you were strangers to each other out of your brain and then tell you he didn’t want that to be the case. Your mind raced with questions. Did he still think of you as friends? Did he remember the promise you’d made all those years ago to always be friends? How did he know the exact right thing to say? 

But then the rational side of your brain resurfaced from wherever your heart had momentarily buried it, and you remembered his farewell was a normal thing for people to say to each other. Especially people who hadn’t seen each other in a while and likely would again because they both lived in a very small town. That’s all it was, just a normal goodbye. 

Not Steve Rogers somehow reading your mind because he knew you so well. 

With those rationalities ringing in your head, you dashed out of Seaside Scoops and it wasn’t until your feet had carried you to the next block that you remembered your broken shoes and stubbed toe and chafed thighs. 

But those problems didn’t seem quite so bad anymore. Not with the delicious ice cream cone in your hand, and the sunset casting Brambleberry Cove in gorgeous, golden light—and especially not with Steve’s warm, honeyed voice ringing in your head, calling you buttercup. 

It had felt so normal to hear the nickname roll off Steve’s tongue that you hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t realized how long it had been since you’d last heard it. But, just as it had when you were younger, it filled your chest with a bright, golden warmth. You grinned to yourself as you strolled back to your little bungalow, licking up the melting ice cream as fast as you could.

Your mood was decidedly better, and you enjoyed the walk home, refusing to think too much about why exactly you felt lighter and happier and less miserable about being home in Brambleberry Cove than you had before going to Seaside Scoops. It was just the ice cream, obviously. There was no other reason.

“You’re staring.” Steve’s voice was low, the undercurrent of laughter in it almost mixing with the sounds of the distant waves. You could hear them through the open windows of his truck as he eased the vehicle down the winding road leading away from the docks on the north side of Brambleberry Cove. 

His comment dragged you out of your drunken haze, and you took a deep breath to get your bearings. Your lungs filled with the salty nighttime air of the sea and the earthy leather interior of your childhood best friend’s truck, a small smile curling the corners of your lips and your eyes sliding closed. When you forced them back open, you realized he was right.

Huh, you really were staring at Steve. 

Your head was swiveled to the side, your cheek pressed to the brown leather of the seat back, your eyes fixed on the profile of his face that was highlighted in the glossy silver of the moon and warmed by the golden light of the town’s street lamps. 

You couldn’t find it in yourself to feel embarrassed or ashamed for staring at Steve, though. And it was at that moment you realized you were drunk. 

It didn’t surprise you. After all, you were the one who’d thrown on some jean shorts and a cute top and then took yourself to Shanty’s, the only place in Brambleberry Cove to go if you were a local looking to avoid tourists. 

You’d been happy to see Bucky Barnes, your other oldest friend after Steve, manning the bar. But you’d been much less happy with him when he’d insisted on calling Steve to take you home after you’d downed more than your fair share of liquor. 

It was probably for the best, though. You were drunk and horny and if you weren’t careful, you would’ve gone home with Brock Rumlow. Just thinking about it made you grimace at yourself and your poor almost-decisions. 

Focusing back on Steve, you couldn’t fault Bucky too much for calling your old friend to pick you up—not when it had ended with you able to watch his side profile while he kept his eyes on the road. It felt practically shameful to indulge yourself so much. That is, if you’d had any shame left, but you’d drowned it all in alcohol.

“You’re still staring, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, the humor clearer in his tone. The edges of his mouth were flickering beneath the silvery golden light of Brambleberry Cove at night and you knew he was trying to suppress a smile. It was fascinating to watch, but then Steve rubbed his hand across his mouth, scrubbing through his beard, and it broke you free of your drunken trance.

“I just can’t get over how different you look,” you huffed, raising your arms and flopping them back against the seat in your best approximation of a shrug. “And how exactly the same.” 

Steve barked a laugh, the sharp sound bringing a smile instantly to your face. You’d never heard him laugh like that, and you couldn’t help but love that you were still discovering new things about him, even after knowing him all your life. 

He glanced over at you, his expression bemused like he was sure you were drunker than he’d thought. You probably were, but that didn’t stop you from being right, and you tried to convey that in the brief moment he looked at you. 

Steve’s gaze slid quickly down your body, not like he was checking you out—more like he was checking to make sure your seatbelt was still buckled and you weren’t in danger of doing anything ridiculous. You were only in danger of saying ridiculous things, at least, according to him apparently. He shook his head after he’d turned back to watching the road.

“You’re gonna have to explain that one to me, buttercup,” Steve said, a little bit of gruffness in his tone. He cleared his throat before he went on. “Usually when someone we went to high school with comes back, they tell me they never woulda recognized me.” 

You gave an unladylike snort, drawing another surprised laugh out of Steve before he bit off the sound to let you speak.

“Well those people should have their eyes checked,” you muttered scornfully, pushing yourself up from where you’d been slumped against the warm leather seat. You twisted your body in your seat so you were facing Steve, your eyes tracing the lines of his face from across the cab. “You still have the same eyes,” you pointed out vehemently, as if Steve was arguing with you, even though he wasn’t. “And your nose still has that little bump in it, and your lips are still so soft and full…”

You trailed off, realizing far too late that you were saying your inside thoughts out loud. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you watched Steve as he processed what you’d said—the way his fingers scratched a little nervously at his beard, those twin lines forming between his brows. Your gazed traced every curve and line and divot in his face, examining his expression, wanting to memorize it and save it for the rest of your life. 

“I don’t think any of those people noticed those things,” Steve murmured, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it over the slight breeze drifting through the windows while he drove through town. 

Your heart lurched at the implication of Steve’s words, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take them back, even if they were dangerously close to revealing something you hadn’t even had the courage to admit to yourself yet. 

Instead, you focused on your anger at the hypothetical people who weren’t recognizing Steve just because he’d grown up, gotten tall, gotten buff, grown out his hair and his beard and looked altogether very different to the skinny teenager he’d been.

“If they didn’t see those things, they didn’t really see you,” you muttered to yourself, indignant on Steve’s behalf, but trying to keep it to yourself. Apparently, you weren’t good at moderating the volume of your voice, because Steve snorted at your remark. 

“No, no one ever saw me as well as you did, buttercup,” Steve said, his voice low and warm, and your heart promptly rioted in your chest. 

There was something so dizzyingly wonderful about hearing Steve say such intimate words to you in that deep, caramel voice of his, genuine affection shining through his tone. It took your breath away for a moment, and your brain short-circuited. 

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him…something. The thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself yet. But you were still you, and your brain tripped at the last moment, and instead you blurted, “Do you ever think about our first time?”

Steve choked on a snort, his eyes darting to you with honest surprise. You couldn’t blame him. You’d had no idea those words were gonna spill from your mouth until they were out, but you supposed they weren’t as bad as what you’d almost confessed, so you didn’t try to take them back or change the topic of conversation. You waited with bated breath for Steve’s response, and whether he remembered your night together when you were both 18.

When he saw you were anticipating his answer, he spluttered, “You mean when I came three seconds after getting inside you?” 

You began to smile, because he remembered, but then Steve continued talking.

“Y’know, I told Bucky about that once,” he said, his eyes fixed so fully on the road that you got the impression he didn’t want to meet your gaze and your stomach plummeted. “I was drunk, and didn’t know if it really counted as sex. Bucky was no help, of course—he said he didn’t know either since it was so quick.” 

Something new was swirling in your gut, and for long moments you could only sit there on the warm leather of the truck and stew in that hot, feral feeling. It must’ve showed on your face because, when Steve finally looked over at you after you’d been quiet for so long, the truck lurched forward, his foot pressing too hard to the gas.

“Don’t worry,” he rushed to say, guessing at what was upsetting you and guessing wrong. “I didn’t tell him it was with you.”

“Don’t you dare,” you snarled, the words bursting out of you with a ferocity you’d never used in your life, let alone when talking to Steve. But you were furious all of a sudden, and it wasn’t until the words were spilling from your mouth that you understood why you were so angry. “Don’t you dare try to take this away from me, Steven Grant Rogers.” Your voice was seething and barely recognizable, but you couldn’t stop. “You were my first, and it was perfect—because it was you.” 

Steve glanced over at you, something like shock written across his face, but when he looked back at the road, his brows settled low over his eyes. The muscle in his jaw popped and you knew he was grinding his teeth together, taking his time to gather his thoughts before he spoke. It took him a long moment to respond.

“You deserved better.”

The noise of your scoff was loud, even to your ears, and you strained against the seatbelt still buckling you into the passenger seat as you leaned toward your childhood friend.

“You ate me out until I came three times, Steve!” you cried, holding up three fingers as if the adult man your friend had grown into somehow didn’t know how many three was. “No man has ever made me come so many times in one night as you did then.” 

When Steve still didn’t look at you, just kept driving with his hands gripping the wheel and the muscle in his jaw popping, you huffed an exasperated sound and flopped back into your seat. Your back was to the leather as you crossed your arms over your chest and stared out at Brambleberry Cove through the open passenger side window. 

The silence grew until it was suffocating, and you needed to break it. So you said the first thing that came to mind. Again.

“You’re who I think about when I touch myself, Steve.” Your words drifted from your side of the truck to the other, carried on the light breeze floating through the cab. “I think about you and that night, and it gets me off every single time.”

Steve made a strangled kind of sound, like a growl that was torn free from his throat against his will. Then he was quiet, and he was quiet for so long, you thought that was the only reaction you’d get to admitting the truth. Until…

“I think about you, too, buttercup.”

The confession hung in the air between you, settling heavily onto the leather bench seat in Steve’s truck, the air rushing in through the open windows buffetting around it. 

You didn’t feel Steve’s admission sink into you. There was simply a before and an after. And in the after, you were moving. You were unbuckling your seatbelt and scooting across the seat toward Steve until your bare knee brushed against the denim of his jeans. 

He shot a startled look in your direction—which, in a distant part of your brain, you registered as completely adorable—before quickly pulling over to the side of the road. He was just throwing the truck into park when you slid into his lap, straddling his thighs and pressing your chest to his. 

“We should do it again,” you purred, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and leaning close. When Steve didn’t respond right away, just kept giving you that surprised look, you thought he might not have understood you, so you explained, “Have sex.”

Steve closed his eyes and a light tremor shuddered through his body as his hands settled respectfully on your waist, a few of his fingers brushing the skin where the edge of your tank top didn’t quite meet the waist of your shorts. Then, it was your turn to shudder, the feeling of his warm, calloused hands against your bare skin making heat flood between your thighs, your core warming and your body melting into your old friend’s hands.

“Please, Steve,” you whispered, tipping your head forward until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his, so close you could taste mint chocolate chip ice cream on his tongue and it took everything in you not to lick into his mouth desperately. Your voice was practically a whine as you went on, “Let’s see if we can do better this time.” 

Steve’s hands shifted to your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to almost hurt, and you thought he was going to give in. But then he swallowed audibly, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and he pushed you gently away, his head tilting back against the leather seat so your lips no longer teased him with an almost-kiss.

“You’re drunk, buttercup.”

Steve’s voice was a delicious rasp, and you couldn’t help but shiver at the sound of it even as the meaning of his words settled into your drunken mind. You pouted at your childhood friend, hoping the fact that he hadn’t pushed you off his lap entirely meant he wasn’t saying no.

“And horny,” you said, the words slipping from your lips on another whine. Of their own volition, your hips squirmed on your oldest friend’s lap, trying to get closer, trying to find some kind of friction to work against the aching heat pulsing between your thighs. But Steve’s firm grip held you in place. “Stevie.” His name was nothing but a pathetic whimper. 

A low growl rumbled in Steve’s chest, and then one of his hands was abandoning your hip to cup your face, tilting it up so he could loom over you. The lines of his face were hard, stubborn, and the look in his eyes left no room for argument. 

“You know I won’t touch you when you’re drunk,” he bit out, his voice soft, but as firm as his hold on your body.

A memory slammed into you—you and Steve planning your first time together. You’d made a deal at the start of high school that if neither of you lost your virginity through all four years, then before going off to college, you’d lose it together. 

When the time came, you’d been a little nervous, even though it was Steve, and you’d joked that you could take some wine coolers to the beach and get it over with, just like all the other kids in your school. Even then, Steve had looked at you stubbornly, and said, without a shred of willingness to waver, that he wouldn’t touch you if you were drunk.

Back then, it had sent a shiver down your spine, and it had much the same effect more than a decade later in his truck. Your body trembled with arousal, and you pushed feebly against Steve’s hold—not really trying to break it, just enjoying the feeling that came from realizing how strong he was. Those biceps and corded forearms of his weren’t just for show.

“What about just the tip?” you murmured, the words tumbling past your lips before you could think better of them, knowing there was no use trying to argue with Steve when he’d made a decision. But you were clearly thinking with something other than your brain, because the words kept coming. “That’s not sex, just the tip—please, Steve.” You were begging shamelessly, but your shame and embarrassment were still nowhere to be found since you were still definitely drunk.

Steve’s jaw ticked so hard, you could’ve sworn you heard the muscle pop in the quiet of his truck as he ground his teeth together. 

“Buttercup,” he growled, a warning in his tone. “That’s not happening.”

Your fists gathered in the front of Steve’s t-shirt and you yanked on it restlessly, not trying to do anything more than annoy him. “Whyyy,” you whined, drawing out the word until it was nearly a wail. Unslaked heat burned in your blood and, while you knew why he was refusing to have sex with you, in the moment, you couldn’t understand why your oldest friend was torturing you.

Steve’s hand slid down from your cheek to wrap around the front of your throat, and you stilled immediately, something about the possessive, dominant gesture making you calm. That was new, Steve hadn’t done anything like that when you’d first been together, but you liked it more than you would’ve expected. Your lips were still parted, your panting breaths gusting out of them, your heart racing, and you were finally calm and quiet.

Your oldest friend’s eyes roamed over you, taking in your reaction. At first he seemed surprised, but then a glint of something you’d never seen before sparked to life in the depths of his blue eyes. You watched his gaze drop to your mouth, and nearly whimpered at the way the corner of his lips flickered in the ghost of a smirk. But then he fixed his gaze back on yours, pinning you in place with that stubborn look in his eye, though it was slightly dimmed in favor of that new, hungry glimmer. 

“I won’t fuck you only to wake up tomorrow and find out you regret it,” Steve said, enunciating all his words clearly despite the fact that his teeth were grinding together “That you only wanted it because you needed to scratch an itch.” 

Your lungs dragged in a soundless gasp and you finally understood his reticence, even if you couldn’t imagine ever regretting doing anything with Steve. But when you opened your mouth to protest, Steve’s fingers squeezed the sides of your throat. 

Your words died on your tongue, and your mouth went slack, your eyes going hazy with pleasure. You couldn’t have been more obvious that you liked the way Steve choked you if you tried. And he read your enjoyment easily from the expression on your face, that look of hunger sparking brighter in Steve’s eyes before he went on.

“When I fuck you again,” he growled, his words a promise. “I don’t want you drunk on anything but my cock.”

“Stevie,” you whined his nickname again, the name only you were allowed to call him, your lips forming into a pout. It hadn’t escaped your notice that he’d said ‘when’, and not ‘if’, about having sex with you again, but you didn’t want to push your luck. And besides, unslaked need was still burning brightly through your body, consuming most of your focus. “I need…something, please.” You let out a little whimper and squirmed in his lap again, unable to stop yourself.

Steve huffed a laugh, his thumb stroking down the side of your neck, over your thrumming pulsepoint, while the fingers of his other hand slipped half an inch into the waist of your shorts, only far enough to dig harder into your soft curves.  

“I’m not going to touch you more than this, buttercup,” Steve began, his voice a low, delicious rumble that you swore you could feel in the clenching of your core. “But I didn’t say anything about stopping you from touching yourself.”

Your eyes widened in excitement, and you wasted no time in acting on the implication in Steve’s words. Holding his gaze, one of your hands slipped free from his shirt and trailed down your body. When you reached between your thighs, the backs of your fingers brushed against a thick bulge in the front of Steve’s jeans. 

It twitched against your soft touch, and you gasped in delight, loving the proof that Steve’s body recognized you just as much as his mind.

But when you twisted your hand, intent on giving Steve’s bulge a friendly squeeze, his hand darted down from your hips to your wrist, his fingers circling around you and stilling your hand. “Buttercup,” he rumbled, another warning. 

A shiver raced down your spine and you reveled in the way it made you feel to hear Steve say your nickname like that. It occurred to you that it was new—you’d never heard him say it quite like that before, with frustration and arousal flooding his tone. 

You wanted to hear every flavor of your nickname on Steve’s tongue. You wanted to hear him whisper it like a prayer, and groan it into your lips while he kissed you. You wanted to hear Steve shout your nickname while he came with you. 

But the look in Steve’s eyes was stubborn again, and you knew you’d have to wait to hear all the ways he could say your nickname. 

“OK, Steve, ‘m sorry,” you mumbled, twisting your hand in his hold and pressing the tips of your fingers to the seam of your shorts, your hips jerking forward to seek more of the friction you offered yourself. 

Steve’s hold loosened, but he didn’t let go of you entirely, like he didn’t trust you just yet. But you didn’t care, your fingers were pressing into your clit through the thin denim of your shorts, and you were rocking your hips to grind against them, your wetness soaking through your panties almost immediately.

The moment when your fingers found just the right spot, you sucked in a sharp breath, your spine arching and your hips pressing down hard against your hand. Your head tipped back, your eyes narrowing into slits as you held Steve’s gaze. You moaned while you rubbed tight circles against your clit through your shorts.

“I’m going to come embarrassingly fast,” you huffed in warning, your chest heaving already with labored breaths. 

But Steve only smirked, a touch of smugness in the curve of his lips.

“Don’t worry, buttercup, I remember exactly how sensitive your sweet little clit is,” he rumbled, and you moaned loudly. His fingers flexed against your throat, digging in enough to quiet your sounds and making your eyes widen as your hips lurched in their rhythm. He chuckled at your reaction before continuing on.

“I remember sucking on your puffy little pearl, your thighs squeezing my head, my fingers buried deep in your tight, warm hole,” Steve purred, seemingly knowing exactly what to say to drive your pleasure higher. “I remember the exact way your pussy gripped my fingers when you came, like you wanted me deeper—deep enough that you could feel me in your belly.” 

“God, Steve,” you groaned, your head falling back listlessly on your shoulders, too heavy to keep it up. But Steve’s fingers dug into the back of your neck, and you understood the wordless command immediately. You lifted your head and caught your oldest friend’s eye while you kept rubbing your clit, pushing yourself closer to coming apart in his lap. 

“I remember how big your cock felt inside me,” you confessed, spurred on by Steve’s own filthy words. “I remember how long it took for you to sink your thick, fat cock into my tight pussy.” You paused only to take a quick, hitching breath. “I was already so close when you came, and I remember, I thought, maybe if you hadn’t been wearing a condom, maybe I would’ve come, too.” 

The lines of Steve’s face shifted, hardening, his jaw ticking wildly and his eyes going molten fierce, like the blue at the center a campfire that burns too hot to sit near. 

“Don’t fucking say that, buttercup,” Steve growled, his voice gravelly like he was chewing on seashells. “If I hadn’t been wearing a condom, I would’ve come so much faster—I never woulda made it all the way inside you. Woulda been coming with just my tip inside your warm, wet pussy, baby—woulda been too risky, buttercup.” 

Your eyes wanted to fall closed as you moaned, but you didn’t let them. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Steve, not with that furious and ferocious hunger in his eyes, his desire for you etched into every single line and curve of his face. 

You were so close. You just needed a little more to push you over the edge.

“Fuck, Steve, I know I shouldn’t, but I love the thought of you coming inside me, filling me up, making me yours,” you confessed, the words bubbling up from the very depths of your soul. It was on the tip of your tongue again, that thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself. Instead of letting it free, you moaned, long and loud, your fingers rubbing faster against your clit and your hips grinding against your hand. 

“Christ, baby,” Steve gritted through tightly clenched teeth. His fingers were digging into your hip again, diving further beneath the waist of your shorts, nearly skimming the edge of your panties. His other hand tightened around your throat and dragged you into him, until your face was right in front of his and he could watch every twitch and change in your expression as you pleasured yourself. 

“Come on, baby,” he said, his voice urgent with need. “Come before I do something we’ll both regret.” 

The hand that wasn’t wedged between your thighs pressed to the center of Steve’s chest, just above his heart, and a moment later, you felt his warm palm cover it. He was still holding your throat, his fingers digging into the sides hard enough that you knew he could feel your fluttering pulse beneath his touch. And you could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm, the rapid pace nearly matching the frantic one in your chest.

“Come, buttercup, come for me,” Steve commanded, his eyes holding yours. For a moment, it felt like he could see straight into your soul. It was a scorching intimacy you hadn’t felt since that night you’d first been with Steve, and you were helpless to it.

“Stevie,” you cried his name as your pleasure rose up and consumed you, sending you over the edge into a earth-quaking orgasm. Your body writhed in Steve’s lap, your hips grinding gracelessly against your hand as you collapsed forward, leaning into the grip of his hand around your throat. You sobbed your pleasure, the waves of your release wracking your body for long moments.

Eventually, the final swell ebbed and the last of your energy receded with it. Your damp forehead fell against Steve’s cool, dry one and you struggled to catch your breath. His hand slipped from the front of your throat around to the back of your neck and he smoothed it down your spine. 

He held you close, whispering in your ear, “Such a good girl, buttercup, you did so good.”

Once you finally settled, Steve shifted, his beard grazing your lips as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“Can I take you home now?” he asked.

You huffed a laugh and slumped against his chest, laying your head sleepily on his shoulder. “I don’t think I can move yet,” you said, slurring your words with tiredness. And drunkenness.

Steve chuckled, but made no attempt to move you. You only felt him lifting his arms around you, though his hands didn’t settle on your body. 

“If you see Sam while you’re back in town, don’t tell him I did this,” Steve murmured in your ear. Then you felt the truck rumbling to life and getting back onto the road and you realized where your oldest friend’s hands were. He was driving you home, with you still sitting boneless in his lap.

When Steve arrived at your rental house, not too long after, he helped you down from his truck and looped an arm around your waist, getting you into the bungalow. Thankfully, you were sated from your release in his truck so you didn’t try to proposition him again, just dutifully did as he said, changing into your pajamas in your bedroom while he waited outside the closed door. 

Then he let you lean against his broad chest while you brushed your teeth and washed your face, before guiding you back to your room and tucking you into bed. Last, he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead that was so comforting, and made you feel so safe, your eyes fluttered closed and a soft smile curled your lips.

Before he could leave, your hand darted out and grabbed Steve’s wrist with surprising precision given your state and the fact that your eyes were closed. You dragged them open again, blinking away the bleariness until your childhood friend’s face came into focus. 

“I don’t regret anything we’ve done together, Stevie,” you mumbled, the side of your mouth hitching up in a lopsided smile. “I’m glad you were my first.” You lost the battle with your eyes and they fell closed. You also, apparently, lost the fight against biting back your feelings, murmuring sleepily, “I want you to be my last.”  

For a long moment, Steve was quiet. He seemed to wait until you were just on the edge of sleep before responding to your drunken confession. 

“Tell me that again when you’re not drunk, and I’ll believe you, buttercup,” Steve murmured, ducking down to press a kiss to your hand, still wrapped loosely around his wrist, before carefully extricating himself. 

You were snoring before Steve closed and locked the front door of your bungalow behind him. He walked down the short path to his truck, which sat at the curb, a subtle smile on his lips and a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

[sanjisblackasswife]

𝕊𝕖𝕩 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕞 (Geto and Gojo)

Ft. Geto and Gojo (Separate)

Blk!Fem Reader in Mind

CW: TWT LINKS,Not just SEX, but making love, kissing, touching, oral, established relationships, Gojo is warning of himself, Dom(?)Reader

Bad Summary: My opinion, I try not to include any FANON versions of them either. I want them both bad what can I say.

Gojo

It’s hesitant yet, intense.

A man like Gojo isn’t an easy person to be vulnerable with, but Satoru is different .

He makes light jokes to mask his internal feelings.

“Touchy, huh? You must have wanted me soooo bad.”

However your touches on his arms make his breath Hasen.

He’s a flirt, but somehow you managed to catch him at his quietest when you rub your fingers against his undercut, kissing his earlobe so gently and light he almost thought he had on infinity.

Satoru doesn’t have sex consistently. He can’t even remember the last time he had a moment of pleasure like this, so he’s eager, but catches himself not able to move the way he wants since his body betrays him every-time you land your lips on his.

Sex with Satoru is unbearable in the best way. Probably a night you’ll never forget, due to his ability of being talented in every aspect you can think of. His tongue knows exactly where to land. He has a slight obsession over your little clit as well. Soft and cold pink lips capturing it to suckle. If you mask your own moans for a second you can hear his moans of approval and smacks against your lower lips to taste more of you.

His noises are pornographic. Shameless as he pushes your knees to hit your chest while his huge warm hands to cup under your ass and use his thumbs to spread your lips apart and push his mouth further inside you.

He has an oral fixation only you (and candy) can accommodate so sex with him can be relentless. He doesn’t apologize for it either, regardless of the “M’sorry, baby.” He tend to mutter against your panting mouth once you’ve came twice.

Sex with Satoru is needy and close. Satoru has an additive personality. If he likes something he wears it out completely. He doesn’t know when to quit. Overstimulating himself and you in the process, without a care in the world, because he always gets what he wants. And if you’re what he wants. He’s going to keep you under him until he can’t anymore. It’s all about you for him right now and he needs you to know that while he’s speaking to you in your ear

Sex with Satoru is funny. Once he gets comfortable enough he uses his slick mouth not just to make you cum, but you make you giggle and blush . A few jokes about how much of a mess he made on your new sheets because you tasted too good. How your tits shake so cutely when you’re orgasming. He is just so vulgar.

He praises you. Almost to the point you want to tell him to shut the fuck up but you can’t get yourself to do so because that moment where he moans out your name when you clench down on him, sounds like music to your ears. It’s rasped and dragged out. He is so loud you can barely hear the bed creaking below you both.

His eye contact is intense. Satoru can’t stop himself from looking at you, and he doesn’t wanna creep you out by saying look at me so he keeps his eyes on your mouth and eyes until you realize what he is non verbally asking for while he is on top and inside you.

His slow kisses are what gets you yearning for more. The way how silky slick and smooth his tongue collides with yours, make you whimper every once in a while, and the beautiful noises go straight to his dick (un)fortunately.

Sex with him ends with you both in the bath giggling and smacking on something sweet while he hand feeds you. You feel a few kisses on your forehead and a couple “Felt so good.” Under his breath. Hes stroking your ego without even realizing it.

Sex ends with you holding him. It kind of occurs when he places you on the bed (naked) and fake yawns to lay all over your body, saying he’s your blanket for the night.

You could complain but why would you? He looked finally at peace laid in between you breast.

Geto

Sex with Suguru is memorable and exciting.

He is so careful with his touches, he tends to laugh when you scoff to rush him to move faster, but it’s all apart of his plan to break you down (lovingly ofc)

Foreplay with Suguru isn’t just that night. It’s in the morning when he kisses you slow and caresses your ass against the kitchen counter before he heads out

It’s in the afternoon when he sends you post workout pictures with his pants DANGEROUSLY low to his hips.

It’s that evening when he cooks for you with sweats and his hair down just how you like. Licking his lips as you taste test the food he made on his finger.

Sex with Suguru is full of embarrassment. The man is very big. His cocky smirk looking down at you while he pinches your nipples. Pointing out how hard they’ve gotten after just kissing them.

Sex with Suguru is, overwhelming, his natural scent is intoxicating, his silky hair dragging all over your torso while he licks you down from your neck to your clit makes your spine shiver. He always manages to savor and take his time with you. Fingering you with straight eye contact and words of affirmation of how well you’re behaving for him before he sucks on your pussy.

Suguru knows what he’s doing, he knows what makes you needy, irritable, and even more horny to his liking and silly you, don’t even have a clue(?).

His whole body is so surprisingly soft and yet hard. His chest so squeezable that when you take the chance to actually suck his nipple he lets out the prettiest noise you ever heard. Who knew he was so sensitive there?

Sex with Suguru is messy. The spit, sweat, and cum sprayed all over your both. You don’t even bat an eye after he cums inside you just to go back down on you to taste himself between your legs. All you’re doing is admiring how pretty he is. Cheeks pink, eyes low lidded. You bite your lips when he catches you staring and winks at you while he holds your legs back

Kisses kisses and more kisses. All you need to do in the bed with Suguru is lay back, moan his name, and kiss him. Even if you’re breathless he will be the one to take the wind away from your lungs if needed be.

Sex with Suguru is reassuring.He doesn’t allow you to ever feel anything, but loved and secured that he only and ever wants you. Not just in sex, but his life. His purple eyes stare you lovingly when you cum for him. You’re the most beautiful being in the world and he’ll remind you of it every chance he gets.

Sex with Suguru is so teasing. Allowing all that pressure build up just for him to stop and wonder his attention to another part of your body. About to cum on his finger? Can’t. He wants to suck on your breast. About to cum on his dick? Well now he wants to slow down and give you a kiss knowing he can just do both. Little do you know he’s edging himself more than you.

After sex with Suguru is like a slip of the switch. Brushing ur hair back and telling you to match his breathing style to calm down.

“There you go baby just like that breathe in and out..good girl.”

After Sex with Suguru leads to more pleasure for you. He just can’t quit. He isn’t sorry for it either. Just lay on your belly and let him do what he calls “cleaning you up.

After sex with him is like being turned into a princess. A carry to the toilet while he wipes your face with a cool damp towel. You don’t need to lift a finger and if you don’t tell him no already he’d wipe your ass for you.

After a shared shower He holds you in bed while giving your back a small rub. You feels so safe in his large arms. Hearing his heart beat in your ear was its own white noise that lead you to fall asleep. And you can, because he isn’t going anywhere in the morning.

[doumadono]

think if reader had muzan's child and they're breastfeeding their baby & he see the child getting milk, would he be like 'hey. gimme some of that.' i imagine reader would be flustered but down for it aha

SINFUL SUNDAY

Muzan found himself in an unexpected situation. Clad in his usual elegant attire, Muzan stood beside you, the mother of his child, as you cradled your newborn in your arms. The soft glow of the moonlight falling through a large window bathed the chamber.

Your infant, a delicate mix of human and demon heritage, nestled against your chest, eagerly latching onto your breast for sustenance.

Muzan observed with a calculating gaze, his crimson eyes narrowing as he fixated on the scene before him. "I want some of that too," Muzan's voice, smooth and tinged with arrogance, sliced through the silence. His eyes bore into yours, a twisted curiosity playing in their depths. There was a certain arrogance in his demeanor, as if he believed that even the act of breastfeeding held a power dynamic that he could exploit.

You arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by his audacity. "You're a demon king, Muzan-sama. I hardly think breast milk is on the menu for someone of your stature."

Muzan's lips curled into a sly smile, revealing sharp fangs. "Stature has nothing to do with cravings, my dear mortal. A feeble concoction of life's essence, bestowed upon the weak and vulnerable is making me curious." The demon king circled around you, his gaze never leaving the child at your breast.

With a sense of reluctant compliance, you nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the delicate dance required to navigate the temperamental whims of the father of your child. Gently cradling the infant in your arms, you approached a meticulously crafted wooden crib, adorned with the most opulent silk blanket money could buy. You carefully nestled the child within the confines of its plush sanctuary.

Upon your return to Muzan's presence, you once again nodded, a gesture that carried the weight of unspoken acquiescence. The Demon Lord, perched regally, regarded you with an air of entitlement as he gestured for you to take a seat beside him on an elegantly crafted couch. Complying, you lowered yourself gracefully onto the plush cushions, the atmosphere tinged with a subtle tension.

Without delay, Muzan's hands moved with a possessive confidence, cupping yours breast in a gesture that bespoke both control and desire. Muzan deftly slid the strap of your nightgown from your shoulder, revealing a portion of your chest. His gaze fixated on the rounded swell of your breast, brimming with nourishing milk. The baby's suckling had left the aureola of your breast darkened.

The demon bent down, taking the bud into his mouth. He began to suckle gently, ensuring the sharp edges of his fangs didn't cause any discomfort to you. As the milk flowed into his mouth, he hummed with satisfaction, savoring the runny sweetness that gradually evolved with each sip.

You found yourself in a bewildering situation, unsure of how to react as he drank your milk. Eventually, you tentatively rested a hand on his shoulder, seeking a semblance of stability.

He continued to suckle, delicately pressing against the breast with his chilly hand. His long, pointed nails lightly brushed against the tender flesh, making you yelp a little.

"Shhh," he whispered, taking the bud out of his mouth to look directly at you. "We don't want the baby to wake up."

Muzan swiftly removed your remaining sleeve of the nightgown, revealing your chest completely to his hungry, crimson eyes. He then shifted his focus to the other breast, wrapping his lips around the hardened nipple. He took his time, gently sucking while flicking his tongue against the hardened bud. The milk spilled into his mouth again, prompting a satisfied hum. The entire experience, he realized, had an unintended consequence — his pants felt uncomfortably tight in the crotch.

The experience had a profound effect on you as well. You moaned quietly in relief as he eased the tension in your breasts by gently drinking the accumulated milk. "Oh, my lord," you whispered, gently caressing his shoulder.

Muzan took your hand and directed it toward his groin, where a noticeable bulge had formed.

Without a second thought, you sensed the texture of his hardened penis through the fabric of his pants and began to delicately massage it whilst his tongue massaged the erected nipple.

As things intensified, Muzan pulled away, fixing a stern gaze on your flushed face. "Take off your clothes," he commanded, his tone firm and demanding. "I want to take you, right here and now. And who knows, perhaps you'll birth me another heir soon."

[soullessdianthus]

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Warnings: obsessive behaviour, dubcon/noncon for the last few headcanons (I've put a warning if you want to stop reading)

Poorly translated German, correct me if needed!

Important note at the end!

✧°.  König is a kind of pervert who fantasizes about you, when he beats his meaty cock with his hand, imagining all of the possible scenarios in his head.

✧°.  With you bend over the surface of the table or desk and him pounding into your tight cunt from behind. Your hair falls out through his thick fingers as he tugs on them to arch your spine better.

✧°.  Perv!König can’t help but stare at your breasts from above (thanks to his height), exposed by the cleavage of your shirt. A soft, plump flesh squeezed by a little to small size of bra. Did you do that on purpose to torment him with the beautiful sight?

✧°.  He wants to sneak his warm hand under your shirt and fondle them, play with both nipples until they’re perky, before he finally laps at them with his wet mouth and sucks.

✧°.  His cock twitches painfully when he sees you with a gun holster or climbing equipment on. The stiff material digging into your plush thighs, one stripe just under the curve of your ass. It gives Perv!König the new fixation he would like to test out with you – a shibari or any other bondage. 

✧°.  Just to have you tied up like a little gift and on his sick mercy.

✧°.  But there would come time, where the fantasies, weirdly specific porn and fucking his own palm is not enough, he craves more.

✧°.  König starts to supervise your training with a gun or in a gym. Instead of just verbally correcting your aiming posture, he would stand behind you, his bulky arms wrapped around your sides. He would lean over your shoulder and whisper a few words in German. Quickly and incoherently, but you didn’t understand it anyways! You don’t know German! 

✧°.  “Fokus auf das Ziel, nicht mein Schwanz, Schlampe" [ger.: Focus on the target, not my dick, slut].”

✧°.  Perv!König is delusional as fuck. He would interpret your confusion and shyness in such situations with succumbing to his flirting. Your eyes were begging for his attention, ja? 

✧°.  He would absolutely push your limits, telling you to do a series or two more in the gym just to hear your little whines and moans due to your hard work! 

✧°.  Not to mention how König is fascinated with your scent even after such an intense workout. The sweat glistening on your smooth skin, pretty face red from exhaustion. You looked exactly just like he imagines you after being fucked stupid. 

✧°.  But even creeping on you in the gym or armory wasn’t enough for Perv!König! He still wants more! 

✧°.  I bet we can all agree that he would be a panty thief, especially those used ones. König would take them out of the laundry and rub along his painfully throbbing cock just to cum into them! 

✧°.  And then he put them back in the basket and pretended like nothing happened. Although, he was a little sad that you didn’t put them on with his warm seed still on it. 

✧°.  This way Perv!König could mark you as his girl. <3

✧°.  Perv!König would sneak to the bathroom to peek at you taking a bath or shower, admiring your naked body from a safe distance.

[Dubcon/Noncon Warning]

✧°.  If you ever happen to get super drunk while hanging out with him, Perv!König would absolutely take advantage of your easily persuasive state. Pulling you into his lap, because it’s more comfortable than a wooden chair, ja? Just to help you relax, because you seemed so nervous about getting drunk with your Colonel!

✧°.  König would place his big hand over your stomach and slowly slide down, under the hem of your pants. When you started mumbling something in your drunken state, he was quick to whisper little praises into your ear, assuring he would take good care of you. 

✧°.  His fingers easily found their way into your panties – who knows, maybe it was the same pair he jerked himself into before? Perv!König took his time playing with you, rubbing your clit in circles, before he eventually plunged two of his thick fingers into your sweet pussy. 

✧°.  He had to shush your precious mewls, when he continued stroking that specific spongy spot inside of you, until you came onto his fingers, still sitting prettily in his lap. Like a trophy. King’s trophy.

A/N: This was highly requested and let me tell you ─ I have two more pervy scenarios in the drafts: Perv!Boyfriend!König and Perv!Landlord!König. It depends if you want to read those. Let me know please. 👉👈

[serpentarius]

I wonder how many of Armand's victims have actively fought back during his "easeful death" speech the way Daniel did.

Daniel's interruptions may be small — not loud or flailing or aggressive — but they're impactful. And while Armand remains composed throughout and continues his practiced monologue without wavering, I'd say for the first three quarters of it he's talking at Daniel. He talks over him, but not really to him. Not until the very end.

Daniel rebuts with:

"I don't want to rest."

"I like my life."

"I have a thing happening in the city."

"I'm a bright young reporter with a point of view."

He's trying so hard to cling onto life. He doesn't want death, even if it is an easeful one. Armand cuts that last interjection off with a "ssh-ssh-ssh," which makes me think this might be a point where Armand's patience is tested. Because things aren't going the way they perhaps normally go when he gives this speech! Daniel isn't begging for death! He's resisting!

And so then, Armand says "rest" a lot near the end of the speech, which we know by this point is an indicator of him controlling bodies. He says, "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay. It'll feel like a bath. Rest. Like honey on your tongue," etc, and maybe this is Armand struggling and fighting harder to get Daniel into the state of obeisance that he wants in his victims. The speech hasn't been working as intended, so he has to rely more on his methods of control and hypnosis.

And finally, after all this, you can see the moment when Daniel finally falls into the trance. It's after a lot of effort on Armand's part, and after he's resorted to his cheaper tricks.

So, if we do get a past Devil's Minion arc, I can see Armand fixating on the fact that Daniel was able to resist the pull and performance of Gentleman Death for an impressive amount of time. That despite all the words Armand said to him, he still longed for life.

Maybe this is what makes him fascinating.

[srslyscary]

the little things

the little things in your relationship with atz

including: seonghwa, hongjoong, yunho, yeosang, san, mingi, wooyoung, jongho

skz ver. / p1h ver.

seonghwa who buys you an extra lego set to build with you when you have free time.

seonghwa who runs a bath for you with an option of newly bought bath bombs when he visits you before you get home for work.

seonghwa who jumps at the thought of watching all of the star wars movies when you ask to be better educated on it.

seonghwa who casually twirls a strand of your hair in his fingers when you’re talking to someone else.

hongjoong who experiments with his tracks, almost using your own giggle as the opening to one of his raps.

hongjoong who tries very hard to learn your native language if you aren’t korean or originally from korea.

hongjoong who watches you cook and tries to ask if he can help even if he knows he can’t cook.

hongjoong who sits and listens to you talk about your latest fixations with the softest smile on his face.

yunho who shows you how to play all his favorite games, often offering to have you sit in his lap while he guides you.

yunho who buys you the biggest teddy bear every year for your birthday without fail.

yunho who keeps a rose with him every concert to give to you during his performance.

yunho who sends you random pictures of things throughout the day and says “this reminds me of you”.

yeosang who takes you stargazing only to look at you the entire time.

yeosang who pays attention to every detail about you which includes your hobbies, your personality, your likes, and your dislikes.

yeosang who subtly matches your color scheme for every date you go on.

yeosang who is fascinated with the thought of traveling to all your favorite places and exploring new areas.

san who holds your hair in his hand when you forget to tie it up before cooking.

san who buys you as many plushies as you can fit in your house, to which most of them match the ones he has.

san who leaves his hand in your back pocket in large crowds so that he won’t lose you.

san who tackles you into a hug during sleepovers before bedtime because he missed you.

mingi who stares at you with the most lovesick eyes when you’re talking because he loves how excited you are.

mingi who wraps his arms around your shoulders and leans on you when he’s tired.

mingi who never forgets to buy you your favorite drinks when he comes to visit you at work.

mingi who laughs at the smallest things you do because he adores you too much.

wooyoung who will kiss you softly while holding your face because it’s his favorite way to kiss you.

wooyoung who calls his brother to talk about you and make plans for the two of you to meet one day.

wooyoung who leaves his shirts at your place so that you can wear his clothes.

wooyoung who massages your head while you’re cuddling in hopes of relieving any stress you may have.

jongho who plants a kiss on your forehead when he walks by, and often leaving a kiss on your shoulder when he’s behind you.

jongho who reminds you every morning by text to remember certain things you may forget before going to work.

jongho who rubs small circles into your hands during movie night.

jongho who buys you matching jewelry that says “my heart” and “my soul” and buys a new piece to add to it each year for every year you’re together.

[c0llisiion]

NEED TO KNOW.02 — J.JK

Pairing: jeon jungkook + f!reader

Genre: smut

★: npr, slight angst, dadsbsf!jk x reader, older!jk, slight degradation, mentions of cheating, praise, dumbification, unprotected sex (practice safe sex plzzz), cunnilingus, slight bondage? Idk lol , rough sex, crying, breeding — lmk if i missed any!

W/C: 3,175

A/N: HIIIII ITS FINALLY HERE YALL WTFFFFFFF 😭😭😭😭 i defo spent too much time on this ( soz i have been very busy ) THIS ONES FOR ALL THE POOKS THAT HAVE BEEN ASKING FOR PART 2 <33 NJOYYY

.01 <3

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ This is strictly fiction. Any scenario or situation should not be taken seriously. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The tension was there. A very thick tension. You stared daggers at the man sitting in front of you. He was being nonchalant. Giggling and laughing with your dad and acting like nothing had happened between you two. 

Things were going well between you guys since ‘that’ day. You told him about your undying feelings for him, and he understood it. He had you wrapped around his arms as you rested your head on his shoulders and sat together in the warm bath water with Your back pressed against his chest. Even though the moment lasted for a short while, you still savored it. His warm breath was on your face, whispering sweet nothings that had made your cheeks flush. His soft heartbeat matched yours. He was so gentle with the aftercare. Had you propped up on the bathroom counter while he ran a warm washcloth down your sticky body, making sure to be gentle. He even washed you down with your favorite body wash. Hands gently ran water down your sweaty hair, making sure you were clean and ready before he left, and since then you have been dating him. Or so you would think. 

It was a huge decision. This could affect both of your lives negatively if things go wrong. Of course, you didn’t tell your father about it. Imagine the betrayal he would feel if he found out his daughter was sleeping around with his best friend under his roof. In no way, shape, or form could he know. For the time being, He would eventually come to know, right? 

Jungkook was always the ‘nonchalant’ type. He was very laid-back about you. There was not really a label to your relationship. He would treat you like his girlfriend, yes, but he would never outright tell you that you were his girlfriend. He would always go to clubs and other posh places where women younger than you would hit on him continuously. Who wouldn't, though? A rich, young-looking old man is the perfect eye candy for gold diggers. You of course voiced out your frustrations to him, but he again and again brushed it off, saying, ‘It’s nothing to worry about’ , ‘I only have my eyes on you, doll.’ Or the worst one so far: ‘We are not even that serious.’ It hurt a lot, but you brushed it off because you loved this man and, most definitely, the sex he gave you. 

He was passionate in bed. Unlike anyone you have ever slept with. He would be gentle and slow with you most of the time. His girthy length slowly went in and out of you as your eyes tried to stay fixated on the movie. Hands on your hips, squeezing the soft flesh as he whispered in your ears in a sultry voice. “Taking me in so well doll… your pussy is sucking me in so good, has me controlling myself..” he darkly chuckles before adding. “Dripping all over my couch cushions… who is going to clean this up huh? making a sweet little mess.. dw i will help you with it baby…gonna have you staining this entire couch …” you shuddered as he trailed wet kisses up your neck and nibbled on your ears. His other hand squeezed and tugged on your tender breasts. Toying with your puffy nipples in between his fingers. You let out a soft huff as his cock hit your sweet spot. “What’s wrong, doll? Too much..? I thought my little slut liked it when i went deep..” he chuckled before thrusting into you with some force, making your stomach tumble and turn. 

  It was getting infuriating at this point. Your fork dug into the piece of filet mignon with great force, your hands shaking at the tension as your mind raced off to all those memories you made with him. And it all went down the drain because of a stupid mistake he made. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You haven’t talked much this evening..” All the laughter and banter had died down, and the attention was on you. You were brought back to earth when your dad spoke up. But someone HAD to chime in. “Yeah y/n… What’s wrong with you? You didn’t even greet me at the front door… Don't you know how rude that is?” Jungkook yammered. His eyes had a glint of mischievousness. He had his stupid smirk on, and he talked to you in a tone he definitely knew you didn’t appreciate. You glared at him with pure anger burning in your eyes. Out of rage, you pushed your chair and got up before stomping your way upstairs to your room. Jungkook watched as you walked upstairs. That stupid smirk widening.

You were walking as fast as you could down the huge hallway. You just needed to lock yourself in your room, cry, and sleep. Your thoughts were interrupted when a rough hand grabbed you by the nape of your neck. His calloused fingers press the sides of your neck in a tight grip. Before you could protest and push him away, he- “Don't even think about moving or opening that fucking mouth.. Don't make me do something I will regret..” He whispered in your ears with gritted teeth. His hot breath and words fanned the lobes of your ears, sending a pulse to your core. 

Jungkook pushed you into your room, making you stumble and fall to the ground. He quickly locked your bedroom door before turning around to face you. He grabbed you by your throat, making you stand up on your feet before speaking up. “What is wrong with you, huh? Can't you just act normal? Why do you have to put up a fit?” “You tell me!” You spat. Jungkook huffed angrily and rolled his eyes at your response. He let go of your neck before pushing you down on your bed. “Are you acting like this because of that incident? Why are you still hung up on it? Move on. Nothing happened between us.” Your eyes widened at his words. How dare he say that after what he did? “Move on?? MOVE ON?!” You bursted. “HEY! Quite down. Don’t raise your voice at me.” Jungkook quickly put you in place, making you roll your own eyes. “I can't believe you right now.. You outright went out and cheated on me and you are asking me to move on? What are you on jungkook??? You are supposed to be my boyfriend. You told me you wanted to date me. Marry me and for me to HAVE YOUR KIDS,” Jungkook sighed, lowered his head, and softly muttered, “i know what i told… in that moment…” Your face drained of all color. You stared at him in disappointment, as you knew what was going to be his next words. “What do you want from me!!!” You got up and screamed in Jungkook's face before walking towards your door. “Wait-“ Jungkook yanked you by your wrist, pulling you away from the door.

“Let go of me, you moron!” You tried freeing yourself from his grip, but he was quick to throw you back on your bed. He got closer and climbed on top of the bed, his legs on either side of yours. Jungkook had a sour expression as he started unbuckling his belt. “Don't fucking touc-“ a harsh slap landed on your right cheek before he grabbed you by your jaw and smashed his lips onto yours. It was a struggle for dominance. You were reluctant to let him in, but he pushed through and started kissing you sloppy and hard. Your protests were muffled by his hungry mouth. Muscular tongue swirled around you, tasting you. You eventually gave in. Eyes fluttering, and your hands reached to hold his face but was pinned down almost immediately by Jungkook's strong ones. He pulled back, and a string of saliva connected your lips. He gazes down at your fucked-out face with a dark glint. “So pathetic..” he said before cupping his hand over your clothed cunt. You gasp as you feel his palm push into your sopping hole. Dampening the thin fabric. He landed a harsh slap on your clit, making you buck your hips for more. “So eager and needy aren’t you?” He teased you before shoving his fingers down your throat, making you suck and swirl your tongue around his digits. "Yeah, thats right… just like that…” he hissed. He nudged his knee into your pussy, pressing harder against the heat. Your eyes rolled back, and your thighs quivered as he continued.

He pulled his digits out of your mouth, a thick layer of saliva coating the slender fingers, before he shoved all three into your little cunny. Your eyes shot out wide, and your mouth fell open as he curled his fingers into you. “Dont make any noise… don’t want Daddy to hear you cry like a bitch because of me, right?” You covered your mouth with your free hand and nodded. Jungkook smirked and increased his pace. His fingers went in and out of your pussy at an inhumane rate, occasionally pressing down hard on your poor clit making you whine and whimper. He loved watching you writhe and suffer under his mercy. Something about you becoming putty under him, and he is only using his fingers. Your pussy gave out quickly as clear liquid gushed out and coated his digits. “Coming so quickly, doll? I thought you hated me?” He darkly chuckled before pulling out and slapping your cunt once again. You winced and moaned.

Jungkook started removing his clothes, using his loose tie to keep your mouth shut. He ripped your panties off and pushed your dress to your ribs. He stood at the foot of the bed and pulled you towards him before attacking your sensitive pussy. You grabbed his hair and mewled loudly as his tongue started working on your pussy. You were still sensitive from the aftermath of your previous orgasm. Your eyes spilled tears and you tried pushing his head away. Jungkook landed a harsh slap on your ass making you stop your movements. His tongue lapped at your pussy. Plunging into your sensitive hole and sucking your nub. He pressed his face closer into your pussy as your thighs clenched around his head. He held you down with his strong hands, and you were completely at his mercy. Your moans were slightly muffled by the makeshift gag. You grabbed his hair tighter, making him groan against your pussy, The vibrations sent jolts of pleasure to your core. His tongue swirled at your core. His nose was buried in your clit and his chin glistened with your juices, running down his neck. Your legs quivered and shook as he ate you out like a starved man. He pushed your thighs up, pinning them to your chest. A guttural moan escaped your lips as he pushed his fingers inside your soaking wet pussy, his lips sucking and biting down on your poor clit. “Mmm.. you taste so fuckin’ good, doll…” His fingers went in and out, curling and twisting, making you arch your back against his touch. You were seeing stars, and  was suddenly pulled back to earth as he moved away. He looked down at your disheveled state, a devilish smirk was plastered on his face as he watched your eyes fill up with tears. “Pathetic little toy…”

He climbed onto the bed, his knees on either side of you. His lips and neck glistened with your arousal making you shiver, his hair all over the place from your tugging and pulling. Your eyes landed on his hips as you watched him fumble with his pants, swiftly pulling out his aching cock. His cock stood hard and tall; you could see the precum leaking from the tip, and you couldn’t help but moan at the sigh- Your eyes almost popped out of your skull as Jungkook plunged into your pussy with no warning. His thick girth stretched you out perfectly. He groaned as he watched your pussy accustom to his size, even though he had fucked you multiple times. “So tight… mmf- so fucking tight…”. He started moving; slow thrusts quickly turned into fast, harsh ones. You grabbed onto his biceps for stability, digging your nails into his arms as he mercilessly fucked into your cunny. Your eyes were fixated on his face as you watched his face contort in pleasure and greed. He loved watching the little bulge that formed in your abdomen whenever he took you to pound town. “God.. you see that doll? Do you feel me in your little tummy? You’re so tiny… takin’ me in so fuckin’ well…” You glanced down at your abdomen and moaned, your shaky hand reaching down to feel the mound. Jungkook's hand found yours, and he pressed down on it, sending jolts of pleasure after pleasure down to your core. His thrusts never seemed to stop as he continued drilling your pussy. Your thighs and his pelvis coated in a milky layer of your arousal. You writhed and squirmed under his build, his cock hitting all your right spots.

Jungkook grabbed your arms and pinned them to your sides, making sure you didn't move. “Watch it doll… you better stay still and act like a good fucking girl for me.. or else im gonna stop all of this and leave you right here… all needy and bothered, got it?” You cried at his command and nodded, not wanting to disobey him. “Will you behave from now onwards?” He asks, landing a slap on your face before grabbing your chin. You nodded, looking up into his eyes with your tear-filled ones. Jungkook smirked at your submission. He couldn’t help but find it extremely arousing. “Yeah? Gonna act like a good -thrust- girl f’me? You’re a good girl for -thrust- daddy right?” He said, in between harsh thrusts, your body was jerking upwards at each one of them. Your body arched off the bed, and you nodded incoherently. Babbles and random words left your lips as Jungkook pounded into you. He leaned forward and trapped you under his body. His lips found your neck, leaving dark hickeys and bites all over. “You’re mine. Baby. All mine. And nothings going to change that.” You cried out and wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer to your body.

Jungkook chuckled before going rougher on you. Your thighs shook inhumanely, and your nails dug into his back, leaving scratches and bruises. “Pussy was made for me… you feel so good.. so so good…” His mouth continued its relentless assault on your neck, marking you with as many hickeys as he could. Jungkook growled as he felt your pussy clench around his length, signaling that you were close. He lets out a low, rough moan against your neck as he keeps moving against you, his body responding to you and your body in all the right ways. He detaches from your neck for a moment and takes a handful of your hair in his hand, tipping your head back so that you’re looking up at him. “You close baby?” You nod incoherently, your only focus being coming around his dick. He slowly lifts himself up and throws one of your legs over his shoulder, gripping your waist as he helps you reach your climax. His fingers found your throbbing clit, before tugging and pinching the poor nub. You gripped the sheets and threw your head back as the pleasure got more intense. The makeshift gag coated in a thick layer of your saliva. You were a babbling mess. Your brain was mush, and the only thing that is getting registered in your mind is Jungkooks dick going in and out of your cunt. Jungkook found all of this hot and sexy. He loved watching you become putty under him. He loved how you were basically under his mercy. “Look at you… such a mess… and how were you acting minutes ago…? Shouting and -thrust- yelling…” he chuckled darkly. “You probably don’t even know what im saying right now… Cus you’re so cockdrunk and dumb to think of anything else but my dick…”

You screamed out a bit too loudly and buck your hips before squirting all over the sheets and jungkook. A stream of clear liquid gushed out of your pussy. His thrusts and words sending you to another dimension. He grins as he feels you release again, the sound of your cry and the feel of your body shuddering and trembling beneath him sending waves of pleasure through him. He keeps his fingers moving against you for a few moments, trying to prolong your pleasure for as long as possible before withdrawing them slowly. He continued fucking into you, trying to reach his own orgasm. He kisses you deeply and hungrily, his tongue exploring your mouth as his body continues to press down against you.

You were too out of it. Your eyes fluttered as you came down from your high. You weakly looked at him. His forehead was coated in a thin layer of sweat that ran down his body. You pulled him closer to your body and let him fuck into you. “Gosh baby… you’re so good f’me…” you whined and nodded, another knot starting to build up in your stomach. “Im gonna fill you up so well doll… gonna have you leaking my cum… would you like that? You want me to fill you up?” He asked, looking at you, and just smirked because he knew you were too out of it to reply.

He moves his hands down to your hips, grabbing them and flipping you over onto your stomach. His body quickly moves over yours once more, pinning you down on to the bed. He presses his body against yours from behind, his cock grinding into you in a slow, harsh rhythm, his chest pressed against your back, his lips close to your ear as he speaks. “You’re mine, do you understand that? I’m never gonna let you go…” with a few more thrusts, jungkook presses down and fills you up with his hot cum. His heavy balls emptying every last drop into your fucked out pussy. He groaned and moaned in your ears, holding you close to his body as he came down from his high. His breath was ragged and uneven.

He pulls out of you and watches it slowly drip out of your puffy lips. He collapses right next to you and pulls you into his chest. Stroking your sweaty hair and back. “I love you… I love you so much… and im sorry… i really am okay?” You hum softly, finally being able to register his words. “We will talk about this later, okay? I don’t want to lose you…” he pulls you in closer to his body and sigh, loving the warmth of your body against his own, but is quickly interrupted when- 

“Jungkook??? Y/n??? What's going on in there???”

Shit. 

A/N: THANKS FOR READINGGGG I HOPE YALL LIKED IT 💔💔💔💔 think i might js turn into a jungkook blog 🤣😹🙏

Masterlisssttt :3

[soupuurr]

𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑏𝑦𝑒 - matthew sturniolo

pairing. softdom!matt x sub!reader

genre. angst, smut

⟶ content warnings. explicit content, angst (no happy ending), oral, unprotected sex, creampie. MDNI

⟶ summary. you once thought that you and matt were destined to be together, so leaving to pursue your dreams didn't concern you. because you would always find each other in the end, right?

⟶ note: i suggest listening to white ferrari while reading this. (or any other sad song if frank ocean is not your vibe) enjoy my pooks, i nearly cried way too many times writing this.

never say goodbye pt. 2

your heart raced as you reread the illuminated words—once, twice, three times.

you couldn't believe it. the job opportunity you've dreamed of since childhood was right there, displayed on the bright screen in front of you.

for a instant, it felt like time stood still, the world around you fading into a blur as your attention fixated solely on the computer screen.

this was it. every ounce of effort, every sleepless night, and every midnight coffee run had led to this one, singular moment.

"you did it!" your boyfriend shrieked beside you, shaking your shoulders to snap you out of your trance.

matt pulled you into a hug, his comforting cologne engulfing your senses as you melted into his embrace. tears of happiness welled in your eyes while he tenderly cradled the back of your head in his hand.

“i’m so proud of you, baby.” he whispered before pressing his lips against the top of your head—drawing you infinitely close to him.

both of you stood at your kitchen island, intertwined intimately like the moon and the stars as your bodies bathed in the comforting glow of the hanging lights.

matt knew how much this meant to you, frequently bringing food and keeping you company in your studio as you diligently updated your portfolio. and he knew you deserved it more than anyone else.

“i love you so much, matt.” you sniffled into his chest. matt gently withdrew to gaze into your eyes, his own glimmering with pride.

“let’s go celebrate, yeah?” his bright blue orbs flicked between yours. you smiled, nodding as matt’s thumb gingerly brushed away your tears.

matt turned over his shoulder, linking his arm with yours while unhooking his keys from the carabiner dangling from his belt loop.

you nestled your head against him, humming in contentment before giving his bicep a tight squeeze.

“ow kid, you’re gonna rip my arm off.” he giggled, playfully nudging you with his shoulder.

your footsteps echoed beneath the moonlit sky as matt swung open the van door, gesturing for you to enter.

you knew exactly where matt was going to take you—your special lookout, tucked away behind the trees and reserved for the two of you.

and so you sat in the wilderness, bickering like an old couple and playfully tossing fries at each other as you just talked. about life, about your future family, and everything in between.

a tiny pang tugged at the back of your mind, knowing that you’d have to leave this life behind for now. but it’ll all work out right?

you set aside the thought; all that mattered now was spending time with the people you loved.

you cherished every second you spent in this tiny town, not allowing any of the time to slip through your fingers. there was never a single moment of worry because you knew that matt would always have your back.

it would all work out just how you planned.

it didn’t strike you until you held one another the night before your flight, crying in each others arms while the soft pitter-patter of the rain drummed against matt’s car.

it was too good to be true.

matt would inevitably have to leave for LA with his brothers to pursue his youtube career, while you were destined to move to the other side of the country. you were both going to be occupied with your own lives, and that's simply how it was meant to be.

you both decided it was best to call it off that night.

“you know i’ll always love you.” matt mumbled into your ear, voice breaking as he gently stroked your hair.

you sobbed against him, clutching his hoodie tightly between your fingertips as if he might vanish into thin air. matt shushed you while his fingers tenderly brushed under your jaw.

he lifted your chin, gazing into your eyes with a mix of sadness and guilt. he promised to be there for you no matter what, and now he was leaving this behind.

“you’re so beautiful.” he whispered—warm breath caressing your pink lips. matt furrowed his eyebrows, thickly swallowing before gently pressing his lips against yours. an innocent kiss that he wanted to savor.

you melted into his touch as he pulled you onto his lap. he hooked his arms around you while you cupped his cheek, deepening the kiss. your lips, wet with tears, danced beautifully together.

matt led you to the back seat and pushed you against the cushion as he kneeled between your thighs. his fingers slipped under your shirt—lingering at your hips before snaking up your waist and past the valley of your breasts. he made sure to kiss every inch of your body as he rid you of your clothes.

once you were bare, matt couldn’t help but gasp—heart thumping against his chest as he admired your naked body basked in the moonlight. it felt like the first time he ever saw you.

he placed a kiss on your knee before trailing his lips to where you needed him the most. his teeth nipped at the skin of your inner thigh, blue eyes never leaving yours.

your hands flew to his brunet hair as he pressed his tongue against your folds, burying his nose in your clit. your legs wrapped around his head as soon as he began worshiping your glistening pussy with open mouthed kisses. you trapped him between your thighs but he didn’t care, this was about you.

you felt yourself inching closer to the edge with every twist of his tongue, tears of sadness now replaced with tears of utter pleasure.

“i’m gonna cum!” you strained, matt hummed in approval while your back arched off of the plush cushion beneath you. he poked his tongue past your folds and you finally released, thighs shaking around his head.

“we’ll find each other when the time is right.” matt cooed. he stood on his knees as he unbuckled his belt, letting his jeans pool below him. he leaned over to place a kiss on your forehead.

“just promise to never say goodbye, matt.” you whimpered, legs closing around his waist. matt nodded and pressed his forehead onto yours as he freed his cock from his boxers—gliding his tip along your pussy.

he pushed his cock into your heat, relishing in the way your walls wrapped so nicely around him. god—you were just perfect in every way.

matt desired this moment to be etched into his memory, the way tiny whimpers fell past your soft lips, the way your beautiful pussy clenched around him, the way you were boundlessly intertwined together, all of it.

his thrusts were slow and gentle, you could feel every ridge and vein of his cock pressing against you. you brought your fingers to his, locking them together as you held his eyes.

with one final kiss, you came together—matt’s cum filling you while you helplessly quivered around him.

he fell limp on top of you. a few more tears slipping down his cheeks as he held you tight.

you never saw him after you left. it was painful at first, but you eventually grew accustomed to it. his texts and calls dwindled day by day until he eventually stopped texting you altogether.

but now you were happy, engaged to someone you truly love. yet, sometimes you couldn't help but wonder what would've happened if you had forsaken your dreams and chased matt instead. would you still be together? as much as you hated to admit it, that question gnawed at your brain almost every day.

“look at these! they go perfectly with the color scheme.” your friend gawked at the flashy jewelry in front of her.

as your wedding approached, your schedule grew increasingly hectic, leaving you with barely any time to yourself. you were out in LA, constantly shopping or planning and it was more than exhausting.

you studied the shimmering necklace briefly before shaking your head.

“i don’t know, it’s kind of-“

you paused abruptly, blood running cold as your eyes fixated on a pair of painfully familiar ones.

he stood at a distance, his mouth agape and body frozen in place. he looked different now, his brown wavy hair stopped short just above his eyes, dressed in a button-up flannel that hugged his shoulders over plain blue jeans.

you glanced at the girl clutched to his side, then at the diamond ring on her finger.

a surge of past hurt, anger, and pain washed over you like a tidal wave, bringing unwanted tears to your eyes. you quickly blinked them away, mustering a bitter smile at the couple before turning around.

to this day, you vividly remember the exact words he said to you before you boarded your flight.

“i promise to never say goodbye.”

what a lie that was.