#THE FUCKING NOISE I MADE WHEN I SAW THE SECOND ONE

[sunsbaby]

.ᐟ dean winchester x beach babe!reader

| warnings . . . blood . dean is a pervert . weapons (readers gun) .

You and Dean's first meeting wasn't how many had expected...

The sun was bright and unforgiving. Heat blazed down on your form, pretty much baking you. But, instead of burning your body reacted differently—most would call you sun-kissed; however, you preferred the term 'sun-child.' Afterall beneath the sun was where you spent most of your days. Your shades perched on your nose perfectly.

Men stared, hungry eyes raking down your figure—it was disgusting and you were never afraid to call them out on it.

"Uh, sir, your staring is creeping me out. Look somewhere else before I put 'Cherry' to use." Was your go-to response, pulling out your gun just enough to where they could see it. Normally it scared them away, the look on your face showed you meant business.

You weren't one to bluff—which could be why you were banned from some beaches, but that didn't matter. Your gun's name was Cherry, to match your 57' Thunderbird! That car was your baby, and nobody but you was allowed to drive nor touch it. Now, usually that line would work on anyone that tried you, but not this one.

But oh lord was he handsome. His stubbled chin, piercing green eyes that just drunk in your body like you were a glass of whiskey—you could tell what he liked, they all had that look—and those muscles. A girl could only dream of being crushed by those during. . .Nevermind that! A scowl appeared on your features, which to Dean made you look even hotter. He did have a thing for women when they were mad.

"Oh c'mon sexy, you think i'd be scared of that little thing?" His voice was even better than his looks, you wanted to eat him up right then and there, but you had to stay strong. He was being a total dick-wad and you weren't going to stand for it.

You stood up, brushing off whatever sand was stuck to your bare skin. Bikini clad form sauntering over to him with a subconscious sway of your hips. Palm finding itself rested on his cheek, Dean smirked—he thought he had you. It wasn't until a loud crack was heard and Dean's face began to sting.

"Do not talk to me that way! You may be a total hottie, but seriously? Ew!" Dean couldn't hear what you were saying, his mind was focused on the slap you'd just given him. Who knew such a pretty thing like you had the power of Sam. He wasn't even mad, his eyes widened and a smile crept onto his face as he stared at you—now up close and personal.

With a roll of your eyes you pushed him away, annoyed that your hit barely affected him, all he wanted to do was practically eye-fuck you like a pervert! You didn't mind much though, he was so much more attractive than the bums that normally come your way. Before Dean could snap out of it, you were gone. The only thing left of you was the red handprint on his cheek and the purr of your car's engine fading away.

The second time you saw mister pervert again—which turned out to be your last 'meeting'—was when he saved your ass. It was just a normal night for you, bonfires on the beach, drunk people feeling each other up, and vampires? Maybe it was stupid of you to follow a random guy back to his car—which was weirdly parked far away from the social gathering. But, in your defense you were drunk and maybe a bit high, and he was hot! Not your fault.

You had your back turned, about to open the backseat of his car before you heard a weird noise behind you. Even in your drunken state you knew something was off, so you swung your arm back, managing to hit him directly on the side of the head. Just then you noticed the fanged teeth, what the hell was this guy. He got up quick, quick enough to grab you tightly. His head moving down towards your neck. . .

Blood was all over you, the guy who you were about to hook up with head tumbled onto the floor. Crimson liquid staining your body, and bikini. Your eyes locked with, him, the guy from earlier. Only this time he was with someone much taller—and equally as handsome.

"What was that." You spoke as you stared directly into Dean's eyes, confusion and shock lingered beneath your orbs. Honestly it wasn't like you didn't have suspicion of supernatural creatures being real, seven-year-old you and that damned monster in your closet.

"That, sexy, was just a glimpse into my world." Dean thought you were so hot covered in blood, which was weird, but it isn't everyday he gets to see a babe in a bikini covered in vamps blood. Sam could feel the tension radiating from the two of you whether it was sexual or not—he would guess the first.

"I want in, and maybe I can use that 'little thing,' to save your asses one day–hmm?" You mocked him, reminding Dean of your earlier interaction. He was going to say no, going to tell you it's too dangerous for a pretty thing like you. But, then he remembered the slap you gave him, and how you carried yourself like nothing could bring you down.

So, here you were, following his Impala in your Thunderbird. The wind flinging your hair around wildly as you blasted music loud enough heaven and hell could probably hear it. The way to the bunker was long, but nothing like a bit of motels and diner stops.

sunny yaps! HIII EVERYONEE!! this is just the meeting of dean and beach babe!reader, the next part will dive into them now! I HOPE U GUYS ENJOYY!! COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED I LOVE U ALL!!

special tags! @figthoughts @bluemerakis @ultravi0lence14 @h8aaz @dulcescorderitas pls lmk if u wanna be removed or added!!

𓂃 beach babe!reader intro

𝐒𝐔��𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ® 𓂃 do not repost or copy my works without permission!!

[namgyu-nurture]

request!!!

ok so i get if your not comfortable with writing about this but can you write a fic about where the female reader is at a bridge ready to fall and somebody sees and calls the police and jun ho is the officer to respond, that’s all i really thought of but you got to off make them fall in love because the reader is stunning 🤩

Last minute love - Hwang Jun-ho x fem!reader

Warnings: a lot of suicidal thoughts!! Self harm, depression, mentions of bullying, fluff

A/N: im sorry if this is short or didnt get the exact thing you were looking for, but I was really happy to get a junho request actually hes so fine I love that guy 💪💪 tysm for this this was so fun to write

Life was hard. You were always bullied in school. Teased, harassed, humiliated, kids thought it was funny to make you cry. You were nothing but nice. Eating lunch alone in the school bathrooms, standing alone at break. You were pushed, shoved, kicked when going anywhere, you had tried to consult a councillor but they seemed to like your bullies more, ignoring your claims since you didn’t have proof.

You never understood why kids hated you so much. You weren’t exactly ugly, you had a glimmer of self confidence, looks wise at least. Maybe the way you acted? But you barely spoke. This is what riled you up. People despised you.. and for what reason?

Even as an adult, you were unlucky. No man ever looked your way, you always seemed to come second in hiring. Being broke and lonely you hated life, you always tried in school but your grades weren’t enough, you were a failure.

So here you are. Sat on the edge of the bridge, the busy highway flooded with cars moving by, the motion was a blur. You sat contemplating. ‘I should just jump. Get it over with’ you thought to yourself. You were so drained, afraid of dying but life wasn’t much better than dying anyway.

You sat for a while, just dangling your legs, hyping yourself up enough to jump. ‘Fucking wimp.’ You thought, looking at your hands that were cowering at the thought of jumping, your heart was pounding.

Unbeknownst to you, a man who had driven by noticed this situation, not fully sure if it was going to escalate but to be safe he rang the police. Alerting them.

You sat looking down. ‘Would the fall even kill you?’ You thought. It looked like it would, but the thought of it not killing you on impact made you hesitate, what if you didn’t die, but survived, the pain from the impact making your stomach churn.

Through the midsts of white/yellowy lights from headlights on the bridge and the musky orange light from the lampposts, you saw a flicker of red and blue lights approaching.

Panicking, when the car pulled over and a police officer came out, you gained composure and stood up. Shaking slightly as the heights of the situation increased.

“Excuse me miss.” A calm voice rang out, over the noise of the passing by cars. You turned to look at him, still stood on the edge of the bridge.

He was youngish, maybe in his 30s realistically but he looked younger. He was handsome, his dark hair parted neatly, his uniform was tidy and his eyes looked into yours from the distance he was stood.

“Can you step down from there?” He called out again, his tone was calm, well spoken and polite.

“..no.” You replied quietly. “No, I won’t.. leave..go away” your voice spiking in panic.

“Miss, please step down, you’re not in trouble. I just want to have a word with you.” He said kindly. Stepping forward and offering you a hand to step down.

He felt a twinge of anger that someone like you would be here, on the edge of the bridge, an urge of protection for you, he wasn’t sure why, he thought you were gorgeous. He didn’t know you, but he’d hate to see you go.

“W-why should I? Huh?” You responded angrily, “s’ not like life’s gonna be worth living anytime soon. I should just get it over with right? No one likes me anyway. I don’t know what the fuck I did but they all hate me.” Your voice cracked in upset as you ranted. You had a smile, a clearly forced one, as if amused by what you must’ve done to be here now.

Your eyes told a different story, the man noticed the hurt, the held back anguish. “You should step down because nothings going to resolve your problems if you die. Your mother would be heartbroken. If you want things to get better you need to resolve them.. be strong. Come on.” He spoke clearly, with a soft tone, he insisted his hand. And she looked at him. “Please.” He insisted once again.

She thought about his words and hesitantly took his hand. She stepped down, her sleeve riding up when she held his hand. Years of scars and burns littered her wrist, it shattered his heart to look at. Someone so beautiful being so.. hurt.

She noticed him looking and yanked her hand away, pulling her sleeve down. “Got a good look yeah?” She said spitefully.

“Im sorry.” He spoke, aware he was wrong for looking so long. “Would you like to talk? speak about whats on your mind?” He offered to which she shook her head.

A moment of silence passed.

“Could.. could I have a hug..?” She asked quietly, and he opened his arms. She wrapped her arms loosely around his midsection. One of his hands rested on her head, the other on her back.

“It’s going to be okay.” He said soothingly.

“Will it?” Your voice broke softly as you looked up at him.

“I’ll make sure of it.” He said softly to her making eye contact

“Promise?” She asked quietly.

“I promise.” He responded promisingly.

[hisfavegirl]

Endless Battle Of Love- Modern!Jacaerys Velaryon x Female.

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3.

Word Count : 5.7k

Jacaerys Velaryon Masterlist.

House Of The Dragon Masterlist.

and also big thanks to @zaldritzosrose for let me using yours beautiful dividers 🫶🏻.

Jace’s heart nearly stopped when he heard the sound of glass shattering upstairs. The noise sent ice through his veins. Everyone in the living room froze. Then realization struck.

"Shit," Aemond cursed, already pushing off the couch.

Jace didn’t wait. He was already sprinting up the stairs two at a time, his blood roaring in his ears.

The second he reached his bedroom door, he grabbed the handle and twisted—only to find it locked.

"No, no, no," he muttered, jiggling it harder.

Then he heard you.

Sobs. The sound of things crashing to the floor.

His pulse spiked. "Baby, open the door!" he called out, knocking rapidly. "Baby, it’s me! Open the door, love!"

No answer. Just the sound of more things breaking.

His chest tightened. Fuck this.

Stepping back, he slammed his foot into the door. Once. Twice. The third time, the lock snapped, and the door burst open.

The sight inside made his stomach drop.

You were standing in the middle of the room, barefoot, your whole body trembling violently. Tears streaked your face, your breathing erratic as you clutched your head with both hands. Around you, broken glass littered the floor—shattered picture frames, the remains of a lamp, a drinking glass—your feet were bleeding, red staining the white shards beneath you.

Jace's heart clenched. Oh, god…

But the moment you saw him, your entire expression changed. Your eyes widened, your face contorting with pure terror.

"No!" you shrieked, stumbling back. "Don’t come near me!"

Jace’s breath caught.

You weren’t looking at him.

You were looking at him.

Your past. Your tormentor. The monster who had hurt you.

Jace felt something inside him shatter.

"Love," he said gently, taking the tiniest step forward. "It’s me. It’s Jace."

But you weren’t hearing him.

Your whole body shook as you pressed yourself against the wall, as if trying to disappear into it. "Don’t touch me!" you sobbed. "Don’t fucking touch me!"

Jace lifted his hands, showing you his palms. "I won’t, I swear. I’m staying right here. Just breathe, sweetheart."

You shook your head violently, your whole body trembling. "No, no, no, you—You hurt me! You always hurt me!"

Jace’s heart cracked open. His throat burned as he swallowed the lump forming there. "I would never hurt you, baby. Not now, not ever."

Your breathing only grew more ragged. You clutched your head tighter, pressing your hands to your ears. "Stop—stop, please!"

Jace’s chest ached. He’d seen you break before, seen you cry. But this—this was different.

This was you drowning in the past.

"You're not there anymore," he whispered. "He’s gone, baby. He’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore."

You squeezed your eyes shut, tears slipping down your cheeks. "No—he’s here—he’s right here!"

Jace exhaled slowly, steadying himself.

"Listen to my voice, love. Just listen to me." His tone was soft, firm, unwavering.

Your body swayed slightly, your knees weak. The blood from your feet trailed onto the floor, red against white.

"You’re safe," Jace murmured. "No one is going to hurt you ever again. Not while I’m breathing."

Your breath hitched.

Jace saw it—the way his words reached you, tugging at the edge of your panic.

"Look at me, sweetheart," he whispered. "It’s Jace. The idiot who makes you coffee every morning, even though I suck at it. The guy who still can’t believe he gets to wake up next to you."

A sharp sob tore from your lips.

Jace stepped forward, slow, careful. "I love you," he murmured. "I love you so fucking much, baby."

Your whole body trembled. Your nails dug into your arms as your breath stuttered.

Then—finally—your glassy eyes flickered to his.

Recognition bloomed in your expression. Jace watched as the fear started to recede, the fog clearing just enough for you to see him.

The moment it did, your legs gave out.

Jace moved instantly, crossing the room in two quick steps and catching you before you hit the floor. You collapsed against him, your fingers fisting into his shirt as if you were afraid he’d disappear.

"J-Jace," you choked out. "I—I can’t—I can’t—"

"Shhh," he hushed you, pulling you close, one hand cradling the back of your head. "I got you. I’ve got you, love. You’re safe."

Your whole body shook violently as you sobbed into his chest. Jace held you tighter, whispering soft reassurances against your hair.

"I’m here," he murmured. "I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere."

You clung to him, as if he was the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely and Jace? He would hold you as long as it took.

Jace didn’t move.

He didn’t say a word as the others stormed into the room.

Aemond was the first to step inside, his eye scanning the destruction—the broken glass, the overturned furniture, the blood staining the floor. His jaw tightened.

Aegon whistled low, dragging a hand down his face. "Shit."

But it was Alicent and Rhaenyra who reacted first. The moment their eyes landed on you, trembling and clinging to Jace like your life depended on it, they moved.

"Give her to us," Rhaenyra said softly, kneeling beside Jace. "We’ll take care of her."

Jace hesitated. His arms around you tightened slightly, like he couldn’t bear to let you go.

Alicent crouched in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Jace," she murmured, her voice gentle yet firm. "Let us help."

Jace swallowed. He looked down at you—you were barely conscious, your body weak, your breath still uneven.

Slowly, carefully, he loosened his hold. Rhaenyra and Alicent moved instantly, supporting you between them as they guided you to the bathroom.

Jace stayed where he was, frozen. Aemond and Aegon exchanged a glance, but neither of them spoke.

Jace clenched his fists.

He hated this.

Hated that no matter how many people he killed, no matter how many times he swore to protect you, he still couldn’t stop the ghosts of your past from creeping in and tearing you apart.

His jaw tightened as he stared at the blood smeared across the floor. Your blood.

A sharp exhale left his lips.

"Fuck!" he suddenly snapped, slamming his fist against the nearest wall.

Aemond sighed, stepping closer. "Losing your temper won’t fix this."

Jace turned, his eyes blazing. "I should’ve—" He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. "I should’ve been there. I should’ve stopped this before it got this bad."

"You can’t fight something that’s in her mind, Jace," Aemond said evenly. "You can kill every bastard who hurt her, but you can’t erase what they did."

Jace’s fists clenched even tighter.

"Then what the fuck am I supposed to do?" His voice cracked slightly. "Just sit here and watch her suffer?"

Aegon sighed, running a hand through his hair. "No, you stay by her side and remind her that she’s not alone."

Jace exhaled harshly, his chest still rising and falling with barely contained frustration.

"I should’ve stopped this," he muttered again.

Aemond shook his head. "And yet, she’s alive, she’s safe, and she has you." His voice dropped slightly. "That’s what matters."

Jace said nothing. He just stared at the doorway where you had disappeared, his heart still pounding, his body still tense. Because no matter what Aemond said, no matter what logic told him. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

Jace sat beside you, his fingers brushing against your cheek with the lightest touch, as if afraid you would shatter beneath his hand. Your face was peaceful now, the turmoil from earlier momentarily washed away by exhaustion. But he knew the nightmares would come again. They always did.

His chest ached. He should be here when you woke up. He should be the first thing you saw when the panic came rushing back. But instead, he had to leave.

Aemond and Aegon stood by the doorway, waiting.

"We have to go," Aemond reminded him, his voice low.

Jace didn’t move. His jaw clenched as he looked at you, curled beneath the blankets, so small compared to the chaos that surrounded you.

"She just fell asleep," he murmured, voice tight. "I should stay."

"We don’t have time for this," Aegon muttered, rubbing his face. "You know what happens if we wait too long."

Jace did know.

He knew this wouldn’t stop unless they ended it themselves. He knew that every second wasted meant another threat, another risk.

But leaving you now?

It felt wrong.

"She needs you to finish this, Jace." Aemond’s voice was calmer than Aegon’s, more level. "If we do this right, she won’t ever have to wake up to another nightmare again."

Jace exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair.

"If something happens while I’m gone—"

"Nothing will happen," Aemond cut in firmly. "She’s safe here. Rhaenyra and Alicent won’t let anything happen to her."

Jace’s grip on the sheets tightened. He turned back toward you, hesitating for another long moment. Then, finally, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I’ll be back before you wake up," he whispered against your skin. But even as he said it, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in his gut. Because he wasn’t sure if that was a promise he could keep.

Jace sat in the passenger seat, his grip tight around his phone, his leg bouncing with restless energy. His eyes flickered between the screen and the club in front of them, a neon-lit building pulsing with music and sin.

Aegon leaned against the hood of the car, rolling his shoulders. "You're gonna break that damn phone if you keep squeezing it like that."

Jace shot him a sharp look but said nothing. The group chat was quiet—too quiet. His mother hadn't texted him back since he left, and the silence was driving him insane.

Aemond, standing beside the car with his arms crossed, exhaled slowly. "Focus, Jace. We get in, we find out who sent those videos, and we end this."

"You don’t understand," Jace muttered under his breath. His hands were shaking. "She had a panic attack earlier. I wasn’t even there when she—"

"She’s safe," Aemond cut in. "Rhaenyra and Alicent are with her. You being distracted helps no one."

Jace clenched his jaw. He knew Aemond was right. But knowing didn’t make it any easier.

Aegon checked the time. "Alright, we've wasted enough time. Hellfire’s people are inside, probably thinking they own the place." He smirked darkly. "Let’s show them what happens when they fuck with the wrong family."

One of Aemond’s men approached the car, speaking in a low voice. "We’ve counted at least twenty men inside. Some armed, some just muscle. There's a VIP lounge in the back. That’s where their leader should be."

Jace inhaled sharply. "Good. The sooner we do this, the sooner I can get back."

Aemond nodded. "We move now. No warnings. No survivors."

Jace tucked his phone into his pocket, took a deep breath, and pushed everything else aside.

For now, all that mattered was making sure no one ever had the chance to hurt you again.

The pounding bass of the club’s music was drowned out by the sound of chaos—gunfire, screams, and the shattering of glass as Jace, Aemond, Aegon, and their men stormed inside. Patrons ducked for cover, some scrambling toward the exits, while others froze in shock.

Jace moved with purpose, his eyes scanning the room. The club was lavish—red neon lights reflecting off expensive chandeliers, VIP booths lined with velvet curtains, and a long bar where terrified bartenders crouched behind the counter. But he didn’t care about any of that. He was looking for one person. The bastard responsible for the hell you’d been put through.

"Where the fuck is he?" Jace growled, grabbing the nearest man—a thug with a scar running down his cheek. He yanked him forward and pressed a gun to his temple. "Where’s your boss?"

The man smirked, blood dripping from his lip. "Not here."

Jace’s grip tightened. "Wrong answer." He slammed the man’s head against the table, sending bottles and glasses crashing to the floor.

Aemond, who had been dealing with another group, stepped over bodies and sighed. "This was a fucking waste of time."

Aegon, standing near the bar, took a shot of whiskey before kicking over a chair in frustration. "Either they knew we were coming, or this was a goddamn distraction."

Jace clenched his jaw, his patience running thin. He turned to another man—a lower-level enforcer, trembling as he held up his hands.

"You," Jace hissed, grabbing him by the collar. "Talk."

The man swallowed hard, his eyes darting to the bodies on the floor. "I—I don’t know anything! He doesn’t tell us shit!"

Jace scoffed. "Bullshit." He cocked his gun and aimed it at the man’s kneecap. "Last chance."

"Okay, okay!" The man stammered. "I swear, I don’t know where he is, but I heard something—something about a shipment. A warehouse near the docks."

Aemond’s gaze sharpened. "When?"

"Tonight!" the man sputtered. "That’s all I know, I swear!"

Jace exchanged a look with Aemond and Aegon. If this was true, then they still had a chance.

Aegon ran a hand through his hair and exhaled. "Then we head to the docks."

Jace turned back to the man, his expression cold. "You’re lucky I don’t have time to deal with you." Then, without hesitation, he pulled the trigger—shooting the man in the leg before dropping him to the floor with a scream.

Aemond arched a brow. "That was merciful."

"I'm in a hurry," Jace muttered, already walking toward the exit. He pulled out his phone, still no messages from his mother. His gut twisted.

Aegon slapped a hand on his back. "Relax, lover boy. She’s safe."

Jace didn’t respond. He wouldn’t relax. Not until he was sure and not until the people who did this were dead.

Your head pounded as you slowly opened your eyes, the dim light in the room making your vision blur. Everything felt hazy—like you were stuck in a dream, or rather, a nightmare. Your breaths were shaky as you looked around, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you.

The room was unfamiliar at first, but then you recognized the scent—Jace’s, not the one you had been in earlier. You must have been moved while you were sleeping. But something felt off. The air was too quiet.

Then the door creaked open.

Your breath hitched as a tall figure stepped inside. It took you a second to process who it was. Cregan.

You blinked, surprised. “Cregan?” Your voice was hoarse, but you managed a small, confused smile. “Jace isn’t here… he—”

Before you could finish, Cregan didn’t stop walking. He moved toward you with steady steps, his expression unreadable. Then, in a swift motion, he grabbed your wrist.

Your eyes widened. “Cregan, what are you—?”

Without a word, he lifted you with ease, throwing you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

Panic surged through you. “Cregan, put me down!” You thrashed, kicking against his chest, hitting his back with your fists, but he didn’t budge. He held you tightly, moving toward the door with a terrifying sense of purpose.

Your breath came faster now, your heart hammering against your ribs. “What the hell are you doing?!”

He didn’t answer.

As soon as he carried you out of the bedroom, your body stiffened at the sight before you.

The house was a mess. The living room was completely trashed—tables overturned, broken glass scattered across the floor, and the sharp scent of blood in the air. But worst of all, your stomach twisted at the sight of two familiar figures.

Alicent and Rhaenyra.

They were tied to chairs in the middle of the room, their hands bound behind them, their mouths gagged.

Rhaenyra’s eyes widened when she saw you, and Alicent made a muffled sound against the cloth in her mouth, thrashing against her restraints.

Your entire body locked up.

“Cregan, what the fuck is this?!” Your voice cracked as you struggled harder.

His grip tightened around you. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

Terror crawled up your spine. Where the hell was Jace?

And what had you just walked into?

Cregan dropped you onto your feet with little care, his grip loosening just enough for you to take a few shaky steps backward. You knew you had to run. It didn’t matter how much your body ached, how the cuts on your feet burned with every movement—you couldn’t just stand there.

As soon as he turned to open the car door, you took your chance.

You bolted.

Your heart pounded against your ribs as you sprinted toward the nearest exit. The cold night air stung your lungs, and each step sent a sharp pain through your body. You bit your lip to keep from crying out, forcing yourself to move faster.

But you weren’t fast enough.

A sharp yank on your hair sent you stumbling back, a scream escaping your lips as your balance faltered. Cregan’s fingers tangled in your locks, pulling hard enough to make your scalp burn.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” His voice was low, dangerous.

You winced, tears forming in your eyes as you tried to pry his hand off. “Cregan—please! What did I do? Why are you doing this?”

Your voice broke as you choked on a sob, confusion and terror overwhelming you.

But Cregan didn’t answer. He simply yanked you toward the car, his grip like iron.

“Let me go!” you screamed, thrashing in his hold.

“Shut up.” His voice was cold, devoid of any warmth. “You’re coming with me. No more running, no more games. You’re mine now.”

Panic surged through you. This wasn’t the Cregan you knew—this was someone else, someone cruel and unrecognizable.

With a final shove, he threw you into the backseat of his car. The door slammed shut behind you before you could react. Your fingers trembled as you tried to open the door, but the locks clicked before you could even reach for the handle.

Cregan slid into the driver’s seat, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. “If you behave, this won’t be so bad.”

You shook your head, pressing yourself against the door. “Please, Cregan, don’t do this. I don’t understand—”

He ignored you.

With a single press of his foot against the gas pedal, the car sped away from Jace’s house, taking you further and further away from everything you knew.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt truly helpless.

Jace, Aemond, and Aegon pulled up to the house, their tires screeching against the pavement. The plan had been to stop here quickly before heading to the port, but something immediately felt wrong.

The house was dark. Too dark.

Jace's grip tightened around the steering wheel. "Where is everyone?" he muttered under his breath.

Aemond had already stepped out, his gaze sharp as he scanned the property. "Something's off."

Aegon scoffed. "No shit." He reached for his gun. "Let's go."

They moved in quickly, pushing open the front door.

The second they stepped inside, their blood ran cold.

The living room was wrecked—furniture overturned, shattered glass across the floor, and, worst of all, their mother bound to the chairs in the center of the room.

"Mother!" Jace was the first to move, sprinting toward Rhaenyra and untying her hands with shaking fingers. "What happened?"

Rhaenyra gasped, her hands stiff and cold as she gripped Jace’s arms. Her voice was weak, but the fury in her eyes burned. "They took her."

Aemond had already untied Alicent, who exhaled sharply, rubbing her wrists. "It was Cregan." Her voice trembled slightly.

Jace’s vision blurred with rage. "Cregan?" The name came out like venom. "What the fuck do you mean Cregan took her?!"

"He took her." Her voice was unsteady, filled with barely controlled rage. "He took her, Jace." The words sent ice down his spine. His ears rang. His stomach twisted violently.

You were gone.

Jace stumbled back, his breath coming out in short gasps. His hands curled into fists at his sides. "No—no, no, no—"

Aegon swore under his breath, pulling out his phone to call Helaena. "We need to track him, now."

Aemond was already pulling out his gun, his knuckles white around the grip. "Where was he taking her?" His voice was eerily calm, but the storm in his eye said otherwise.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, steadying herself. "I don’t know, but he said something about ‘finally taking what’s his.’"

Jace’s vision blurred with rage. "He is not taking her anywhere."

Alicent grabbed Aemond’s sleeve, forcing him to look at her. "He’s dangerous. He planned this. This wasn’t just some random act, Aemond—he knew exactly when to strike."

"Then we’re going to make him regret it," Aegon muttered darkly.

Jace turned away from them, his fingers digging into his hair as he struggled to breathe. "I should’ve stayed. I shouldn’t have left her alone."

Aemond stepped in front of him, gripping his shoulder tightly. "None of us should’ve left her alone. But we’re getting her back."

Jace swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus. "Where the fuck is Helaena? She needs to track them, now."

Aegon’s phone rang. The moment he answered, Helaena’s urgent voice came through. "I found them."

Silence.

"They’re headed to the docks."

Jace’s blood turned to fire. His entire body burned with a rage unlike anything he had ever felt before. "Then let’s fucking move."

Your entire body trembled as Cregan held you against him, his arms tightening in a way that made you feel trapped, suffocated. This wasn’t like Jace’s embrace—warm, protective, safe. No, this was possessive, controlling, wrong.

You struggled against him, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. "Please—please, let me go." Your voice cracked as tears streamed down your face, your hands weakly pushing against his chest.

Cregan only laughed, low and dark, his grip never loosening. "You’re still so soft," he mused, almost in admiration. "So delicate. You think begging will make me stop? You should know better by now."

Your stomach twisted violently when he leaned in, pressing his lips against the sensitive skin of your neck. Your body recoiled instantly, a sob ripping through your throat as you tried to shove him away. But he was stronger—he always had been.

"Stop—please!" Your voice rose in desperation.

He exhaled against your skin, his lips ghosting over your ear. "I should’ve taken you back that day," he murmured, his fingers digging into your waist. "Back when we had lunch together. Do you remember that? If I had, none of this mess would’ve happened."

Your breath hitched as the weight of his words settled in. You remembered that lunch—the first time you had seen him before everything had fallen apart. The way he had looked at you, the way he had smiled so easily as if he wasn’t the same man who had destroyed you.

"Jace won’t find you," he continued, pulling away just enough to look into your tear-filled eyes. "He’s too busy searching at the docks while we’re at the airport. By the time he realizes, it’ll be too late."

Panic surged through you, your heart hammering against your ribs. "No…" you whispered, shaking your head violently. "No, he’ll come for me. He always comes for me."

Cregan chuckled, tilting his head. "You’re so sure of him, aren’t you?" His fingers brushed against your cheek, making you flinch. "It’s almost sweet. But love won’t save you this time."

You barely registered his next words as he turned to the pilot. "Take off."

The engines roared to life. The plane began to move. Your pulse pounded in your ears.

Jace…

He didn’t know.

He didn’t know you were here.

You were running out of time.

Your body went rigid as Cregan tightened the restraints around your wrists, securing you to the plush leather seat of the private jet. You struggled against them, your breaths coming out in short, panicked gasps.

"Cregan, please," you whispered, your voice breaking as tears welled up in your eyes. "You don’t have to do this. Let me go, please—"

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he tilted his head, watching you with something almost like amusement. Then, slowly, he reached out and cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin with terrifying gentleness.

"Shh," he murmured. "You’ll only make yourself more upset."

You flinched at the contact, trying to turn your face away, but his grip was firm. A low chuckle left his lips before he finally pulled back, reaching for the laptop resting on the table beside him.

Your stomach dropped the second you saw the screen.

No—no, no, no.

"You know, I always thought you were beautiful," Cregan said casually, as if he weren’t about to destroy you all over again. He clicked on a file, and suddenly, your worst nightmare played out before your eyes. "But these videos?” He exhaled, shaking his head. "They really show just how perfect you are."

Your throat closed up, bile rising as the familiar, horrifying video flickered across the screen. Images of you—of what had been done to you. You couldn't breathe. Couldn’t think.

"No…" you choked out, your entire body trembling. "Turn it off—please, turn it off!"

Cregan just watched you, his lips curling into a smirk. "Why? You’re so mesmerizing like this."

Your vision blurred with tears as you thrashed against the restraints, but it was useless.

Then, suddenly, he leaned in, his warm breath fanning against your tear-streaked cheek.

"Don’t cry, princess," he murmured before pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your skin. "You’re mine now."

Your body went completely still.

For a moment, you thought you had misheard him.

But then Cregan chuckled softly, his fingers tracing down your trembling arm as he leaned in closer. "What do you think, princess?" he whispered against your ear. "Should we recreate it together?”

A broken sob tore from your throat. Your entire body started shaking, your breaths coming out in ragged gasps. "No… no, please…" you begged, yanking against the restraints until your wrists burned. "Cregan, please—don’t do this."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you. There was something dark in his eyes, something terrifyingly unreadable. "Don’t look at me like that," he mused, his hand cupping your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "I’m not the bad guy here."

"Then let me go!" you cried, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. "If you care about me at all, please—"

Cregan exhaled heavily, like he was tired of the conversation already. "You don’t understand, do you?" he murmured, brushing his thumb across your lower lip. "I’m the only one who can protect you now."

"Protect me?!" you spat, your voice raw. "You’re doing the same thing they did!"

His grip tightened, and for the first time, his smirk vanished. "I’m nothing like them," he said coldly. "I won’t hurt you—not unless you make me."

Your stomach twisted in fear, but before you could say anything, he pressed a finger to your lips. "Shh… relax, princess." His smirk returned, and his hand slid to the laptop again. "Let’s enjoy the show together."

The screen flickered as the video continued playing, filling the cabin with the sounds of your past agony and you? You could only sob, trapped in your worst nightmare all over again.

Your body had given up.

Tears streamed down your cheeks, but you didn’t fight anymore. You didn’t pull against the restraints, didn’t scream, didn’t beg. You just sat there, shaking, eyes locked on the screen as Cregan forced your face toward it.

"There you go…" he murmured, his grip on your jaw tightening. "That’s better. No more fighting, no more crying—just accept it, princess."

Your lips trembled as you watched the video. Watched yourself being held down, a bottle forced to your lips as you choked, your eyes wide with terror.

You remembered that night.

You remembered how they laughed. How they told you it was your fault, how they whispered disgusting things in your ear. You remembered the way your body stopped listening to you after they made you drink. How you felt like you were floating outside of yourself, unable to move, unable to fight.

You thought you had buried these memories.

But now, Cregan was digging them up.

"It’s hard to watch, isn’t it?" His breath was hot against your cheek, his voice sickeningly sweet. "But I think you need to see it. Need to remember what happened to you."

A strangled sob escaped your throat.

"Stop…" you whispered, your voice hoarse. "Please, Cregan… I don’t want to see this…"

"Oh, but I do," he countered, his lips ghosting over the tear-stained skin of your temple. "Because every time I see this, I realize how much they didn’t deserve you. They treated you like trash. They didn’t see how precious you are."

His hand slid down to your throat, thumb pressing lightly against your pulse.

"But don’t worry, princess," he whispered, his tone almost… affectionate. "I’ll take care of you now. I’ll make sure no one ever touches you like this again."

Your stomach twisted in horror.

"You’re doing the same thing they did," you choked out. "You’re hurting me, Cregan."

His expression darkened.

"No," he said sharply. "I’m saving you."

Your breath hitched when he suddenly grabbed your chin again, forcing you to look at him. His gaze was intense, possessive, something twisted lurking beneath the surface.

"Jace can’t protect you. Aemond and Aegon? They don’t understand you like I do." His thumb traced your lower lip, his eyes filled with something that made your skin crawl. "Only I can keep you safe."

Another sob wracked through your body.

"Please…" Your voice was barely above a whisper. "Please don’t do this…"

For a moment, just a moment, you thought you saw hesitation in his expression.

But then he smirked.

"Don’t worry, princess," he murmured, brushing his lips against your forehead. "Soon, you’ll see that this is what’s best for you."

Jace's fury was unlike anything Aemond or Aegon had ever seen before.

He stormed across the empty docks, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. His breaths came out in ragged gasps, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to contain the storm inside him.

"Where the fuck is she?!" Jace roared, his voice echoing across the deserted pier. His eyes darted around wildly, searching for anything—anything—that would tell him where they had taken you.

Nothing.

No tire marks. No signs of a struggle. No traces of you ever being here.

It was a setup.

"Fuck!" Jace punched the side of a shipping container, the force rattling the metal. His hand ached, but he didn’t care. Pain was nothing compared to the agony twisting in his chest.

"Calm the fuck down, Jace—" Aegon started, but Jace whirled around, his expression wild.

"Don’t tell me to calm down!" he snapped. "She’s gone! They took her right from under us, and I—" His voice broke, and he clenched his jaw, shaking his head. "I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected her."

Aemond, who had been silent until now, exhaled sharply. "They wanted to distract us. Make us think she was here while they took her somewhere else." His mismatched eyes burned with barely restrained anger. "And we fell for it."

Jace ran a trembling hand through his hair, trying to steady himself, trying to think. "We need to find her. Now."

"No shit," Aegon muttered. "But how? We don’t have a fucking lead anymore."

Just then, Aemond's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, his brows furrowing as he read the message. Then his entire body stiffened.

"What?" Jace demanded. "What is it?!"

Aemond lifted his gaze, his expression unreadable. "Helaena just tracked the last signal from her phone."

Jace's heart nearly stopped. "Where?!"

Aemond met his frantic stare. "The airport."

Jace ran.

His legs burned, his chest ached, but he ran. As if by some miracle, if he just moved fast enough, he could reach you. Could tear you away from the monster who had taken you. Could stop that jet from leaving the ground.

But he was too late.

The private jet had already ascended, its wheels no longer touching the earth. The roar of its engines filled his ears, drowning out everything else. He skidded to a stop at the edge of the tarmac, his breath ragged, sweat dripping down his temple.

And he watched.

He watched as the plane carrying you away climbed higher and higher, until it was just a dark speck in the sky. Until it disappeared completely.

His knees hit the ground.

A strangled, guttural sound tore from his throat as he clenched his fists against the concrete. Aemond and Aegon weren’t far behind him, both breathing heavily from the sprint, but neither of them said anything.

There was nothing to say.

Jace's hands trembled as he pressed them into the cold pavement, his vision blurring. "I lost her," he choked out. "I lost her."

Aemond’s jaw tightened. "We’re going to find her."

"How?" Jace snapped, his voice raw with desperation. "How the fuck are we supposed to find her now?! He could be taking her anywhere!"

"We’ll track the jet," Aegon said, rubbing a hand down his face. "We have contacts, resources. He won’t get far."

"You don’t get it," Jace growled, pushing himself back onto his feet. His entire body was shaking—whether from exhaustion, rage, or sheer helplessness, he didn’t know. "He planned this. Every step. He was always one step ahead of us. And now she’s alone with him."

Alone with Cregan.

Jace’s stomach twisted violently. He wanted to tear his own skin off, wanted to scream, wanted to rip apart anything in his path.

Aemond grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Get a fucking grip," he snapped. "Losing your shit isn’t going to bring her back. We need to move. Now."

Jace clenched his jaw so tightly it hurt.

But Aemond was right.

Breaking down wouldn’t save you.

He took a shuddering breath, then nodded. "Fine." His voice was hoarse. "We track the jet."

Aegon had already pulled out his phone, his expression grim. "I’m on it."

Jace turned back toward the sky, staring at the empty space where your plane had vanished.

Hold on, he thought desperately. I’m coming for you.

Tears streamed down your face as Cregan pulled you onto his lap. Your body trembled, not just from fear but from the unbearable weight of watching those cursed videos over and over again. You had lost count of how many he had forced you to watch—how many times you had been made to relive your own suffering.

The screen flickered, playing yet another clip. Your own voice—weak, broken, desperate—filled the cabin of the jet. A choked sob escaped your lips. You wanted to look away, to shut your eyes, to block out the nightmare unfolding before you, but Cregan’s grip was firm, keeping you facing forward.

Then, his lips brushed against your neck.

Your body went rigid.

His hands moved to your waist, his touch eerily mirroring the movements of the men in the video. He was recreating it. Reenacting what had been done to you before.

A violent shudder wracked through you. "Please..." you whimpered, voice barely above a whisper. "Please don’t do this."

Cregan hummed against your skin, as if considering your words. His fingers dug into your waist, holding you still. "You don’t need to be scared," he murmured, his tone almost gentle. "You’re mine now."

Your breath hitched. "I’m not yours."*

His grip tightened. "No?" He chuckled darkly, pressing a kiss just below your ear. "I think you are."

You squeezed your eyes shut. "Jace will find me," you whispered, more to convince yourself than to warn him. "He won’t stop until he does."*

Cregan’s entire body tensed at the mention of Jace. His jaw clenched, his fingers twitching against your skin. Then, with a slow exhale, he forced a smirk. "Jace is too late."

You shook your head, struggling against him. "He’ll come for me," you repeated, your voice firmer this time. "He won’t stop."*

Cregan let out a slow, amused breath. "Then we’ll make sure he never finds you."*

Your stomach dropped.

The plane continued soaring through the sky, farther and farther from home.

Your body stiffened as Cregan pressed closer, his lips trailing down your neck despite your desperate pleas. His grip on your waist was firm, holding you in place as if he were afraid you would vanish if he let go.

"Please, Cregan," your voice was barely above a whisper, shaking with fear. "Don’t do this."

He exhaled against your skin, his breath warm, sending a shiver down your spine. "You keep begging," he murmured, his fingers tracing slow circles along your side. "But I told you already—you belong to me now."

Your stomach twisted in dread, but you clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to stay strong. "Jace will find me," you whispered. "He won’t stop until he does."

Cregan froze for a fraction of a second before a dark chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Jace?" He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his smirk full of mockery. "You really think he’ll get to you in time?"

Your lips parted, but before you could respond, the plane suddenly dipped.

The change in altitude made your stomach lurch, and your ears popped as the jet began descending.

Cregan smiled.

"Looks like we’ve arrived," he said smoothly, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Welcome to your new home."

Your breath hitched.

"Where are we?" you asked, barely able to get the words out.

Cregan’s smile widened as he brushed his thumb over your cheek, as if savoring your fear. "Somewhere Jace will never find you."

Your heart pounded violently against your ribcage. You wanted to fight, to scream, but you knew it wouldn’t help. Not yet. You had to think. You had to survive.

The jet touched down with a soft thud.

Cregan unbuckled both of your seatbelts and stood up, gripping your wrist before you could even think of running. "Come on, sweetheart," he murmured, dragging you toward the door. "Let’s go home."

You swallowed hard, the word home sounding more like a prison sentence than a promise.

Tag list : @danytar @hangmanscoming @julessworldd @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry @callsignwidow @ashblooddragons

[vandme12]

RONIN WITH A PARTNER THATS MORE SADISTIC AT KILLING THAN HIM 🙏

Ronin thought he’d seen it all.

Thought he’d done it all.

The Devil’s Butcher, the monster under the bed, the nightmare in broad daylight—he lived and breathed carnage, reveling in every scream, every last breath, every desperate prayer that went unanswered.

And then you happened.

Now, he wasn't stupid. He knew you were something different the second he laid eyes on you. It was in the way you moved, how you smiled just a little too wide when things got messy, how your eyes gleamed in the glow of fresh blood.

You weren’t just capable of keeping up with him.

You left him in the dust.

And fuck, did that make his blood run hot.

The first time he saw you work, he had to take a second. Just to watch.

It wasn’t just the way you killed—efficient, brutal, artistic—it was how much you enjoyed it.

The way your blade sank into soft flesh like it was meant to be there, the way you lingered when someone begged, soaking in their fear like it was a drug. The way you smiled, lips painted red, fingers flexing as you decided whether to drag things out or end them.

You didn’t just kill.

You played.

And that was the moment Ronin knew.

He was in love.

“Y’know,” he says now, watching as you press a knee into some poor bastard’s chest, blade trailing a slow, lazy line down trembling skin. “I thought I was fucked up.”

You don’t look at him. You’re too busy drinking in the way your victim shakes beneath you. The way they can’t even scream anymore, throat raw from all the useless begging.

Ronin leans against the wall, arms crossed, head tilting as he studies you.

“Not that I’m complainin’,” he adds, grinning. “I like my lovers a little unhinged. But sweetheart… you might just be worse than me.”

You finally glance up at him, eyes sharp, calculating. Then, without breaking eye contact, you sink your knife slowly into soft flesh, just to hear the way it makes your victim wheeze.

Ronin lets out a low whistle.

“Jesus,” he murmurs, shaking his head, but there’s no disapproval—just pure admiration.

You flash him a bloody grin. “Don’t compare me to him.”

He barks out a laugh, pushing off the wall. “Yeah, yeah. You’re right. I doubt He’d be nearly as fun.”

The poor bastard under you gurgles, and you sigh. “They’re boring now.”

Ronin makes a thoughtful noise, eyeing the mess you’ve made. “Shame.”

Your knife stills. There’s something in your expression—something hungry.

Ronin recognizes it instantly.

His own reflection.

“You wanna find another?” you ask, voice light, teasing, but there’s intent behind it.

Ronin grins.

“Sweetheart,” he says, voice dripping with affection, “I thought you’d never ask.”

And just like that, you’re both on the hunt again, matching smiles carved into your faces like permanent scars.

Because what’s better than a monster?

Blood spatters across the pavement.

Warm, fresh, still dripping from the jagged wound you carved into the man’s chest. His ragged breaths are shallow now—too weak to fight back, too slow to register the agony of his final moments.

Ronin watches, eyes half-lidded, lips curled into a fascinated grin as he rests his chin in his palm. “Damn, sweetheart. You really went to town on this one, huh?”

You hum, tilting your head as you wipe the blade clean against your sleeve. “What, getting squeamish on me?”

“Squeamish?” He barks out a laugh, pushing off the wall where he’d been watching. “Nah, babe, I love it. Just, y’know—" He gestures to the sheer mess of the scene—blood pooling in unnatural patterns, the man’s face frozen in sheer, unrelenting terror. “Bit much, even for me.”

He crouches beside you, examining your handiwork like a critic admiring a particularly gruesome painting.

You glance at him. “Jealous?”

Ronin clicks his tongue, grinning. “Jealous? Pfft. Maybe. You make me look downright merciful, and that’s kinda rude, don’tcha think?”

You smirk. “Mercy’s for the weak.”

“Ooh.” He whistles low, eyes dark with something dangerous. “Cold. I like it.”

[mooniema]

Can you pleaseee do something with Sae-byeok or Se-mi x barista reader?

Se-mi x reader - hot chocolate with marshmallows

꒰ა ˚₊ ✧・┈・╴﹕꒰ ᐢ｡- ༝ -｡ᐢ ꒱﹕╴・┈・𐑺 ‧₊˚໒꒱

pairing ; Se-mi x barista reader

summary ; on a saturday morning, while you were working as a barista, a stunning woman comes in and you accidently mess up her order

warnings ; shitty writing and she might be a little ooc idk, might delete it later if i get too embarrassed

words:

a/n ; this is my first request so i hope yall like it, I might write the one for Sae-byeok too or/and maybe make a second part on this if its wanted

Men dni

꒰ა ˚₊ ✧・┈・╴﹕꒰ ᐢ｡- ༝ -｡ᐢ ꒱﹕╴・┈・𐑺 ‧₊˚໒꒱

It was a particularly busy Saturday morning and you were at your new job in a café as a barista. It was your third day at work and you still had to bring a routine in doing your. Even though it was stressful and gave you even less free time, you know that you can't mess up, because you need the money to pay at least a part of your college fees, since your family isn't rich enough to pay everything alone.

So now you are here, serving customers during rush hour with a headache from all the noise and a smile on your face so you seem friendly enough.

When you had a moment of peace you started zooning out, looking out of the window to see the mist surrounding everything. No wonder people were rushing in, just looking outside made you feel cold.

A smooth voice interrupted your thoughts. "Hi, I´d like to order something" You quickly looked to see who was talking to you and you saw her. A short haired woman with piercings on nose and lips, which add to her beauty. She has a faint smirk on her face, studying you with her dark eyes and you can��t help, but feel small under her gaze. You quickly stopped staring at this intimidating woman and put on your customer smile. "Oh hi! Of course, what can I get for you?" "A caramel macchiato, please." You nod and point at a table. "Sit down on the table, while I make your order please"

You watch as the woman nods and goes over to the table, sits down and starts looking at her phone. Then you go to make her order and while doing so, your female coworker bumps into you and you land on the ground. "Omg, I'm so sorry!" The girl kneels down, quickly helping you up. "Can you do me a favor and make some orders for me? The guests there next to the door want one hot chocolate, one latte macchiato and two black coffees. Thank you!" You stare perplex as she rushes away through the backdoor to the 'employees only' area and sigh, feeling frustrated at her leaving you with even more work. You look over to the pretty customer from before, who seems occupied with her phone and you lean on the counter trying to remember what she ordered. Fuck, what did she order again? You think to yourself. You go through all the orders you remembered in your thoughts, before settling on hot chocolate. I'm pretty sure, it was hot chocolate... She probably wants to warm up from the cold. Maybe I should ask her again? You quickly shake your head at that. No way, I'm new at this job and this would just show, how unorganised I still am and she looks like she could bite my head off... I'll just make her hot chocolate and if its the wrong order, I'll make her the right order and pay for it and pray that my boss isn't watching.

You start making the hot chocolate and and after a bit you place some marshmallows in it and go to the counter with the cup in your hand, calling the intimidating girl over. You watch as the girl approaches with a nervous feeling in your stomach from not knowing if you messed her order up, but you try to keep your friendly smile. You hand over the hot chocolate. "Here is your order!" You watch as she takes it into her hands, decorated with silver rings and you notice her confused look. "Is everything okay?" "Uh yea, but that's not what I ordered... I ordered a caramel macchiato" You start to feel your cheeks redden from embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, I'll go and make you a new drink" You reach out to get the drink, but instead of giving you it, she takes a sip. "No need to, I'll keep the hot chocolate" You try to insist on making her a new drink, but she just chuckles. "But Miss-, you don't have to drink that..." "No need to call me Miss... My name is Se-mi and instead of apologizing, just make it up to me by texting me later" She quickly scribbles her phone number on a napkin and hands it over to you with the money for the hot chocolate and then walks away, while you stare at her with a flushed and surprised expression. "Bye sweetheart and don't forget to text me!"

I'm so sorry, that this is so bad written and short, but I'm kinda stressed, because of school right now and I kinda rushed this. I might delete this later and maybe rewrite it, if I get inspiration.

[irrolyphant]

TIMOTHY OLYPHANT as Rod Reyes

Daisy Jones & the Six (2023)

[gutsby]

Bigger in Texas

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel won’t fit.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Size kink (seriously, don’t read if you hate big dicks / disgusting descriptions) Penis and pussy pronouns. Virginity loss. Age gap. Praise kink. Daddy kink. Joel ‘hung like a fucking horse’ Miller is a soft dom and also a good teacher. Competence kink (?)

Note: Somebody made a fic challenge to use penis pronouns, and I can’t for the life of me remember who it was. If y’all find them please show them this and tell them I love their brain 🫠

Update: @sp00kymulderr you’re a legend for this. Dick pronouns are engrained in my brain, and I’m forever grateful.

Word count: 2.3k

This wasn’t the life Joel Miller had pictured for himself.

The dead coming back to roam the world and eradicate most of its population, for one. The cold. Finding his baby brother way out here in Wyoming with a wife and a child on the way. The looks he was getting these days. It’s not like he’d asked to get mixed up with a girl your age. It just happened. And since damn near every-fucking-thing that had “happened” to him since outbreak day fifteen years back had been bottom of the barrel, full-blown nightmare territory, the second he saw a good thing fumble across his path, he’d seized it—you.

You, who were young enough to be his daughter.

You, who’d never seen a man fully before meeting him.

You, who hadn’t squeezed so much as a finger in herself.

But much like his past, Joel Miller was a sordid and sick kind of man, and he had the cock to prove it: presently weeping precum at the site of your softest, tightest hole, smearing the pearly-white slick through your folds with a sound so sweet it was nauseating. Begging for entrance.

“Oughta have a boy your age pop your cherry, kid.”

It was simple.

“Ain’t right havin’ a man my age all in your guts.”

And true.

The head of his cock made another wet, sickening noise through your folds, and as though instigated by the sound, your eyes flitted to the source. You smiled.

“Probably. But I want you,” you answered. Soft.

Joel got harder, and he hadn’t thought that was possible. His gaze joined yours, and the sight nearly finished him.

Beneath him, your legs had spread wider, showcasing that perfectly glistening seam alongside the head of his cock. He looked huge. Or you looked small. Or perhaps it was both, and he was old, and he really shouldn’t be doing this at all, but then his hips stuttered a bit and his length pushed in. Joel hissed and seized the headboard.

It wouldn’t even go in. The tip just stretched the rim.

“Baby, fuck—” Joel whimpered.

“He’s so big.”

Three little words from your lips, and it almost did him in.

Again.

You wriggled your hips and flashed another happy grin.

“He wants in, daddy. I can feel him pulsin’ like I am.”

You volleyed a look up to Joel as if to say, ‘So that means we’re ready, right? Will you let me have him?’

And, strangled by guilt as he was, Joel couldn’t resist.

He let his big, bulbous, leaking head sink in the tiniest bit, and he let out a groan. Your walls were so tight. This was him, too—his tip was oversized, just like the rest of him—and when it notched in an inch, Joel could see the pain flash quick in your eyes. His hips moved to retreat.

But then your heels were lifting and digging in his ass, and though strained, your voice made it out, weakly:

“Don’t, daddy. I want him.”

Joel couldn’t dream of refusing.

And his vision blurred more at that word, him.

“I-I know. He wants you too, baby—”

Another quarter-inch.

“—so, so bad.”

“Daddy!”

Joel had to blink to try and wake from his daze. His tip was so warm, hugged so perfect and snug and wet, that he didn’t even realize that was all that fit. He was stuck.

You whimpered again.

“‘S’too big, daddy. Just make him go in.”

Your eyes rolled with indignation and overwhelming pleasure alike, and your hips squirmed again. This time, you tried to nudge him in deeper, but your body simply wouldn’t budge; you’d reached the widest part of him.

“Honey, it’s—”

“Hurtin’! I need you inside me.” you cried, impatient.

“Just takes a little time to get there, darlin’—”

“Well, get to it, then. A tip ain’t enough.”

Joel’s face flushed. He might’ve been forced to bite back a laugh under any other circumstances, but this was your virginity. His bed. Your naked bodies, together, tonight.

He wasn’t about to rush it now and fuck everything up.

“This tip’s about to paint your pretty insides white and make you wait til next week to try again if you keep it up.”

That made you go still.

You shook your head while Joel released the headboard from his grip and took your hip in it instead. He grunted.

“Sweet pea, you gotta see—” he resumed, voice low, “—it won’t feel good for you or me if I just…push right in.”

You sighed, feeling his hold tighten.

“Tongue and fingers only do so much. You gotta learn.”

You whined, digging your feet in deeper when his tip drew back to your entrance. Looking a bit squeamish.

“Be brave…and patient for me.”

From the look in your eyes, Joel could tell you probably hated him right now. That was just fine. He adjusted his hips to a more comfortable place, and then he pinched your hip bone. He nudged you back, and he let you wait.

Then, right when you opened your mouth, he sank in.

Joel thrusted with only his tip, the size of a small lime, and he fucked your hole gently. Back and forth. Shallow.

It did enough. You squeezed both his forearms.

“Oh, daddy.” Your bottom lip trembled as you said it.

With his free hand, Joel smoothed your hair back.

“Yeah, what is it, baby?” he murmured, dulcet as ever, “Thought you said the tip ain’t enough for you, sugar.”

His words came slow. His strokes were delivered quick, though tenderly. Your brain appeared to be in a fog, or a trance, as your chin dipped down toward your chest, and you watched him breach the first inch of you repeatedly.

“Curious little thing.” Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle now.

“He’s so…” you trailed off.

You squeezed his arms, and he squeezed your hip back. He let you watch him fuck you with only his tip, and when your head began to tilt back from the strain, he reached up with his other hand and held the back of your neck. He felt you clench at that, and you both groaned.

“So…big,” you finished, eyes glazed.

“I know.”

This went on for the longest time: Joel stretching the first precious inch of your pussy with the head of himself, you watching and breathing deeply, whimpering occasionally, and him holding at the nape of your neck like a softer touch might lose you to him forever. Was this teaching? When you clenched again, he reckoned it was.

“That’s it, honey. Watch her swallow me.”

“Stretches real pretty for the tip, doesn’t she?”

“Bet she can’t even fit another inch of this cock.”

Suddenly, your head was jerking up under his hold.

Eyes flaring with a hot, juvenile kind of anger: “I can!”

Joel clicked his tongue against the backs of his teeth and pretended not to hear. He also had to feign indifference when your walls tightened and all but choked his head and a wave of new pleasure surged up through his body.

“She can, Joel, I’m serious!”

Another two seconds of this and Joel sensed he might see tears. Though his gaze had trailed up to yours, and the look in his appeared stern, deep down, he was just as quick to want to cave. He just hid it better than you did.

“You think so, sweet pea?”

“I know so. I need it.”

“Need him?”

“Y-Yes.”

How sweet you seemed. How naive you must be.

Joel might’ve been mean, but he wasn’t cruel. He also liked teaching lessons as much as he enjoyed showing you the way, so in the next second, he obliged. He took the last shallow thrust of his tip and sank into your cunt.

As he filled you, you whined. It only took an inch or two.

“Da-a-ddy. Please.”

You must’ve been begging for lenience. Joel retreated.

Then, much to the man’s surprise, you kicked your feet. Not in relief but in protest, shaking your head up at him:

“Put him back. Please. D-Deeper.”

It was as though Joel’s brain had exited through the back of his head and all rational thought escaped him, for the moment. The only voice he heard was yours. It was pleading. And in between your legs, you were soaked.

So drenched to allow him another inch. Then another. Then another. Joel fucked in gently and felt a seismic wave of pleasure seize his limbs—and likely yours, as well. It was as though in two blinks, you’d forgotten the pain altogether. You were suffused with need instead, eyes wincing and lips curling and sounds leaving your throat like an animal in heat. Want him deeper, please.

Joel sawed back and forth with just those five or so inches and made you writhe underneath him. Felt you clamp down on his thick, slippery cock and heard the remnants of your shared arousal making sounds as your body accepted him. Stretching wider. Getting wetter. Bringing him closer to the edge with every breath.

“She’s doin’…so good f’me,” Joel told you, brainless.

His thumb drifted to your clit. He rubbed it gently. No sooner had he finished the first circle around that nub when your hips were stirring again—this time incensed.

“Daddy.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

Joel kissed the top of your head, thumb insistent. When his eyes met yours, he was surprised to find them wet this time. Tears pooling and streaking down to your temples while your body bounced gently beneath his thrusts. A whimper trembled out, and Joel slowed.

He could tell from that look you didn’t want him to stop, though. It just felt so good. So, instead of dropping his pace too much, Joel cupped your chin in one hand, and with the other, he kept thumbing at your clit. Humming.

“Poor thing’s never had something this big in ‘er, huh?”

You shook your head. Cried a little more.

Joel kissed the tears on one side, lips smiling as he did.

“I can tell, baby. But she’s taking it so well.”

“Y-Yeah?”

His hips sped up a little. The thrusts were still shallower than they normally would be, given your state, but they seemed to be working well enough. You winced again.

Joel kissed the other side of your face to take more tears.

“Uh-huh,” he answered, “Openin’ up real nice for daddy.”

It was like his words worked as well as his thumb on your clit. You whimpered again, lips parting a little wider now, and the sound that came out was as desperate and feverish and fuck-drunk as Joel had ever heard it.

“S-Say it again,” you pleaded.

“Say what?”

“That he’s…stretchin’ me open. Makin’ me his.”

The soft, slick resonance between your body and his seemed to amplify even more—you were getting wetter, and Joel’s thrusts all but shook the bed with their force.

His eyes darkened when he felt you tighten again.

“Yeah? You like hearin’ all the filthy fuckin’ things your daddy’s doing? The way he’s breakin’ you in for him?”

You nodded. Your throat constricted with a moan.

And, just when a fresh set of tears seemed to be close on the horizon, Joel lowered himself to you. He held you to his chest, hips working relentlessly, and he watched your face screw up in pleasure. A trace of pain surfaced again, but it was soothed with a kiss. Joel grinned against you.

Between your thighs, his cock was throbbing with a feeling just as big. He knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer. Hurting and aching and needing as you were, he had to make sure that you would cum first.

When his cock grazed a fleshy, sensitive patch inside your walls, he knew it wouldn’t take much. He went on:

“C’mon, sugar. Daddy’s split you open on his cock so nice, least you can do is cum for him. Can you do that?”

His nose brushed yours. His thrusts sped up. You nodded, quickly, and when he shifted in the bed with his thumb still on your clit and his lips and his stubble grazing your mouth with every push of himself, he felt it.

It was a small pulse, at first.

Joel thought you might be adjusting—clenching—again, when the lips that were trembling against his own parted more. Your arms wound around his neck, and suddenly the throb of your walls around his member got tighter and tighter and tighter. One more second and your cunt might’ve squeezed the hot, sticky seed right out of his body and flooded your insides with it, but then came release. The ‘o’ of your mouth let out a shriek, at last, and your body went soft around him, beneath him, whining in turn, ‘Daddy, daddy, please’ while the muscles once taut and unflinching gave him reprieve. Fluttering repeatedly.

Joel fucked you through it. He talked you through it.

He stroked your hair, and he held you tight. Called you his sweetheart, pretty thing, perfect girl, you’re doin’ so good f’me. Keep going. That’s right, cum all over daddy. He told you to take what you needed, and without another word, he felt just that. Your cunt spasmed around him, and you consumed every inch he gave and drank every drop of spend shooting out in thick spurts.

You fell boneless on the bed when all was said and done.

You looked happy, and that made Joel even happier.

He stroked your cheek, and you leaned into it, clearly drained while your gaze held his in a weak sort of look.

It was soft. Loving, even. It could’ve been romantic.

Then Joel’s hand slipped down to the nape of your neck again. Your muscles were limp, like all the rest of you, but somehow, he was able to hold you up. Tilt your chin a bit.

Make you peer down between your shaking legs, where his cock was still sheathed inside you—partly, anyway.

Your eyes widened. Joel grinned.

“You did great, baby. Ready for the other half of him?”

can y’all believe this image is what inspired this fic HA

it’s only Thursday i’m sorry 😔

[cherrygirlfriend]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ pilates princess

pairing: sunshine!reader x bf!rafe synopsis: rafe catches reader working out tags / warnings: fluff, smut (no actual sex but graphic descriptions of fantasies) wc: 900 a/n; this is for the pilates princesses (also originally this fic wasn't in the sunshineverse but it is now... mwahahahaha) originally posted 10/12/2024

rafe was knocking on your door impatiently, wanting to see you more than anything after the day he had, finding out that the development he had been busting his ass for for months had been delayed, but you weren't answering the door or even his texts telling you to open the door; that didn't stop him, the man knowing where your parents kept the spare key, getting it out of a pot of asterias, opening the door. you'd told him he could only use it 'only in case of emergencies', but to him, this constituted as an emergency.

rafe didn't bother to put the key back as he walked further into the house, hearing the noise of the television coming from your living room. he made his way to the living room, his eyes widening slightly when he saw exactly what had you so busy.

you were splayed on the floor, a pink workout mat underneath you, watching some workout video on your tv while your headphones were on, wearing a pair of pink fitness shorts that made your ass look so good he was almost drooling, along with a white sports bra, turned away from him, one of your hands splayed on the ground while the other one was bent on your head, one of your knees on the mat while your other was reaching up.

"jesus christ." he mumbled as he stared at you, the curve of your ass in those pink shorts causing his dick to stir in his shorts.

only a few seconds later, you moved to sit down on the mat, only to be startled by your boyfriend shamelessly ogling you, letting out a small gasp as you basically fell on your ass on the mat, your eyes widening.

you took off your headphones, throwing them onto the couch behind you, and even though your face was already warm and flushed, it seemed to get worse when you noticed him staring at you. "rafe!" you exclaimed as you stood up, his eyes now locked onto your hardened nipples under the sports bra, your tits almost pressed together, a sheen of sweat running down your cleavage.

"jesus fucking christ." he said, licking his lips slightly as you took your pink zip-up jacket and put it on, yet the way it clung to your body and the small sliver of your sports bra did almost nothing to hide how delicious you looked. "no, no, baby, don't stop on my accord." rafe grinned, his hands on your waist, aware that he was sporting a pretty obvious hard-on as he pulled you closer.

"i don't want you to see me all gross and sweaty." you pouted, and the way you sucked your lip in made nothing to calm down the obvious tent in his shorts.

"you look so fucking sexy right now." he said, pulling you closer to him, and you could feel his hard-on press against your abdomen, the blonde letting out a small groan from only that contact. "literally, i've never... jesus."

"i'm not sexy right now." you roll your eyes, pushing away a stray hair that had stuck to your cheek, trying to look down in embarrassment.

"you're kidding, right?" rafe snorted, his hand going lower and lower, almost going to the curve to your ass. "i think you can feel how sexy you look, huh?" he took hold of your chin with his fingers, and lifted it up, making you look up at him. "if you didn't want to wait longer, do you know the things i'd do to you?"

"w-what?" you asked in a way that was almost a whisper, biting your lower lip as you looked at him through your lashes.

"fuck, i'd just rip that cute little set off and take you right here on the couch. i'd make you ride me, give you a workout that's much better than this crap you're doing, your tits bouncing in my face, my hands gripping those pretty thighs... shit, i might cum just thinking about it."

you softly smacked him in the chest, feeling a warmth in your abdomen only he managed to cause, sure that you'd never blushed so hard in your life. "raafee..."

he brings your face up to his, bringing your lips to his as he bent down slightly, the kiss much more heated than any other kiss that you'd shared, his hand now on the curve of your ass, squeezing it in a way that made you gasp against his lips, his other hand now in your hair.

after a moment, you pulled away breathlessly, his erection had somehow gotten even worse than before, your lips swollen and a doe-eyed look in your eyes. "we should... uh, we should stop, since, you know..."

"yeah, i know baby." he rolled his eyes exasperatedly, before chuckling softly. "god, i'm not gonna forget this little outfit in a while. lemme take a pic of it?"

"noo, i look gross!"

"don't talk about my girl like that." he tsked, taking hold of your jaw. "come on, i need something to get myself off to later."

"alright, fine." you scoffed and rolled your eyes, before letting out a small chuckle as you started unzipping your jacket.

[visdollie]

☆ having fun without me?

sum: vi isnt happy when she sees you posing on your insta story with another girl at a party

cw: wlw, angry sex, overstim, fem!reader, dom!vi, clit rubbing (r!receiving), dirty talk, slapping, name calling (slut), not proofread

fucked.

fucked is what you were when you realized the time. after countless hours of heartfelt conversations and a plethora of shots, you had gotten so distracted at the party that you forgot to get home to vi on time.

10:00 pm was the time vi told you before your friend picked you up. it was fucking 2:31 am. you already knew how impatient she could be.

"aw, leaving so soon?" a girl you met at said party whined at you with a tilt to her head as she watched you rush to gather your belongings and text your friend a quick "meet me outside" in an obvious hurry. the same girl you decided to snap a cute 'harmless' selfie with and post to your story.

you dashed out the door, leaving her a quick "so sorry we'll meet again soon!" before rushing to the parking lot, searching for your friends car with a look of fear on your face.

"im fucked, im so fucked!" you yapped her ears off, just watching her roll her eyes and drive you home.

---

shivers went down your spine as you steadily unlocked and opened your shared front door, avoiding making any noise in hopes that vi was just asleep, and would just penalize you in the morning.

you were practically on your tippy toes, but the creaky door did you no justice as it slipped out your grip and slammed closed.

"fuck." you whispered.

it was terrifyingly dark in your home. not a single peep or sound besides the loud ass air conditioner. you thought you were fine for the night, but no.. not until your girlfriend snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you back roughly as a yelp slipped from your lips.

"ah! vi.. you scared me." you giggled anxiously. vi could sense that you both knew the obvious issue which placed tension between the situation as she planted kisses across your collarbone.

"missed me?" she muttered on your warm, sticky skin in a malicious tone. you nodded your head, too nervous to say anything that could possibly anger her more.

she crept closer to your ear. "was having fun without me, yeah? takin pics with random girls, lettin them grab all on your ass? bet you had a great fucking time.. slut." she bit down on your neck, not hard enough to leave a scar, but harsh enough to taste the metallic flavor of your blood. you whimpered, loud.

"m sorry.. was jus having fun, n i didnt realize the tim-"

you yelped as she grabbed your wrist and dragged you down the so familiar hallway to your bedroom, muttering a rough "shut it. you saw this coming, baby."

the grip she had on your wrists tightened, her nails digging into your soft skin that made it obvious to you she was getting angrier by the second. was she angry because you got home late? or because of your oh so touchy friend? you assumed it was both.

all thoughts were snapped out of your head as she threw you on the silky, crepe pink sheets and immediately started attacking your neck with bites and bruises.

"mmh.." you whined pathetically, letting her take your brain over and dumb it down. her hand slid down your body, putting it up your skirt to rub at your clit at a rugged pace to make you more wet, as if you already werent.

your poor body struggled in determination to move away from her touch but her grip on your hips with her free hand kept you still. she lifted up from your collarbone, admiring the mess she made. "keep still, slut. shouldve been home on time, but was too busy out fuckin girls, yeah?" her pace on your clit grew faster.

"f-ffuhck.. was.. wasnt fuckin no one, vi! was jus havin fun.. d.. dont even know the girls name.. m sorry.." you babbled on and on hoping for some relief on your poor clit as she went faster each word you spoke. she had no plans of showing mercy, no way. she was way too pissed for that.

"yeah, right. she shouldnt have been touchin you like that, baby." a loud, harsh slap met your thigh, pulling a choked out moan from the back of your throat. "p-please!"

she felt you growing wetter through your panties, deciding to pause her steady motions to rip them off. she grinned at how wet you were. your pussy was glistening, practically reflecting off the ceiling light. you stuffed your face in your pillow in embarassment.

"so fuckin wet, its like you were waiting on this. prolly were, slut." she belittled you, listening to your whines of disagreement. her fingers rubbed up and down your cunt, lubricating them so she'd be able to fuck you senseless. sloppy noises of you pussy making her drip through her own underwear.

you keened at the feeling. "p-please.. fill me up vi! hurry.." vi let out a grunt of annoyance at your impatience. a rough SLAP at your pussy. yeah, that'll shut you up.

tears welled up in your eyes as you pressed your lips closed, a long whimper leaving them. "always so fucking noisy." your girlfriend quietly muttered before shoving two of her fingers deep in your cunt. "just wanna be stuffed full with my fingers, dont you baby?"

throwing your head back at the feeling, you nodded hastily. brain going dumb as she worked her digits in and out of you, thumb going at your clit. "tell me baby, did you do anything with that girl, hmm? why were you with her?" she spoke to you softly, as if she wasnt pissed a few seconds ago.

"w..was just a friend vi, promise! she.. haah.. means nothin to mme.. pleasepleaseplease.."

she snickered at your babbling, fucking you quicker as a reward of your honesty. you knew vi wasnt really worried about you leaving her. you adored her and she adored you on an unfathomable level, she just worried about your safety. (and had a big fear of other bitches growing crushes on you.)

"gon.. gonna cum.." you whined, legs trembling from how sore they were growing. vi felt you clenching around her rough fingers, thumb rubbing at your clit to loosen you up.

"cmon, baby. cum for me. let go all over my fingers.." her words made you sob out even more. you clawed at the sheets, cumming all over them with a long, drawn out wail.

she kept fucking her fingers into you, adding a third one. you started kicking your legs in overstimulation, whining for her to let up but she was relentless.

"tell me, baby. tell me who you belong to."

you doubted you could even speak properly due to the aggressive fingerfucking, but you made an attempt, tears dripping onto the sheets at this point. pathetic.

yet you tried anyway. "y..you vi.. belong to.. you.."

she faught back a laugh, removing her fingers from your cunt and planting a kiss to your forehead. you laid back onto the bed, immediately squeezing your thighs closed.

"you did so well, cupcake. but you arent going out for a while."

you frowned, rolling your eyes at her. secretly though, you didnt mind. if it means being able to spend more time with your girlfriend, you dont mind.

@ visdollie 2024

[soapcloth]

Filthy Dog

MMA au -> pro!Soap x PR team!reader

Series CW: 18+ MDNI, possessive behaviour, spitplay, oral oneshot - 2K words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

“-I'LL HAVE YER’ HEAD ON A STICK!”

You heard him before you saw him- the blur of a man who was truly more bull than human, and the scraping of chairs. Another headache for you. 

You knew this was coming, you knew he wouldn't be happy with this sponsor. You tried to warn them.

“Johnny.” Soap’s manager, Mitch, tried to reason, eyes widening when the fighter’s massive wrapped hands flexed around his freshly-pressed white button down, untucking the bottom from his pants in the process. “-John.” he corrected, coughing awkwardly. When Soap snarled at him, Mitch looked to you with that ‘help clean this mess up’ look.

“No.” Soap bit, jamming a blunt finger into the man’s chest before you could respond to his plea. “This is yer’ problem.”

“We don’t have a problem.” Mitch assured. “Talk to me John, what's up?” 

Soap’s eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring. “Ye’ know damn well. Told you I'd sooner quit than work with Max Energy.”

Mitch’s lips pursed, You were unsure what he expected as the outcome of his greed- probably that he would be able to talk his way out of it. “I don’t remember you saying that." he scoffed. "Come on now, Max is great, don't blow this out of-”

Soap growled in frustration, his fist careening into the folding table beside him; a deadly weapon- a warning shot. 

“Tell me, Mitch- why was I-” he snatched the cloth hanging out the pocket of his sweatpants and pushed it into the wiry man’s chest. “-just handed shorts with Max Energy big and bold ‘cross my fucking bits?” 

he leaned in, jaw tense. “Ah’m a joke to ye’? I’ll quit right here, right now.” 

Mitch called your name like he was summoning a maid and you could only sigh in response. “Soap-” “You say one more word for him and ah’ll knock his fucking teeth in.” he warned, not even turning to look in your direction. Your mouth closed, locked tight. 

“John, you quit and all those paying fans out there waiting for you will make sure you never get another damn title again.” Mitch threatened. “They’re not here for some still wet-behind-the-ears openers. They’re sure as shit not here for Kozlov.” he laughed sardonically. “They’re here for you. Don’t ruin this.” ‘-for me’ he seemed to leave out.

You couldn’t help but wonder if Mitch was doing this on purpose, or if he was just flat out stupid.

A deep, rumbling noise echoed around the depths of Soap’s expansive chest, lips curling back like a dog. “I do this fight- then I’m done, Mitch.” Mitch beamed, seemingly only hearing the confirmation he’d be fighting tonight. “-Not for yer’ sorry ass and not for those Max Energy bastards either. For the fans.” Soap grit out.

You could see the gears inside the manager’s head turning as he processed the financial hit he would inevitably take if his golden boy were to leave. “John-” Mitch practically whined.

 “Not up for debate.” Soap snapped, shooting him a venomous look- and like a tornado on a storm path, he chucked the shorts in the bin and left, dipping back into his locker room.

Mitch sighed, rubbing at his temples before setting his eyes on you.

“Do something. You’re Personal Relations- go relate personally.” Mitch snapped at you as he began digging into the trash to retrieve the shorts.

“Public Relations.” you corrected, earning a frustrated hiss and a dismissive hand wave. 

“Don’t change the subject. Get in there.”

You grimaced. “He’ll kill me!” 

“Don't be dramatic and hurry up, he's on soon.” Mitch urged, shooing you off. You made a sour face, heaving yourself up off the padded bench before Mitch could find something else to complain about. “-Wait.” Mitch ordered, as if he was telling a dog to heel. “-Second thought," he hummed "scratch that, let him be pissed for the fight. It’ll do numbers.”

-

Loathe as you were to admit, Mitch was correct- all three rounds had been polished off like they were light meals. You were next, surely. Your knee bounced anxiously as you awaited the full oncoming force of Soap’s post-cage high. “Fantastic! MacTavish v Kozlov-” Mitch barked out a laugh. “What a joke Kozlov was, does his team think it's amateur hour?” 

“Mitch.” you interrupted, knee falling still. “This isn’t really time for celebrations, you're about to lose your current biggest fighter.” He mowed you down with an eye roll “John just needs time to come to his senses, Max Energy contracts like this are once in a lifetime.”

“He’s not-”

The Locker room door nearly flew off its hinges, a beast coated in sweat and blood emerging. “John!” Mitch grinned with outstretched arms that faltered as the big man stormed straight past him.

God. Good god. He was hurtling towards you. Avert your gaze downwards, you coached yourself, you wouldn’t sit well in the stomach of a dog like him. 

Bare feet stopped before you. “You.” he chuffed out around the rubber guard in his mouth, drawing your gaze upwards. “Let’s go.” You looked around, not fully processing the situation. Mitch regained his composure. “Y-yes! Go talk with John.” he urged, desperately latching on to any inch of leeway Soap would give. “Get the fuck out, Mitch.” Soap barked, voice distorted by the EVA covering his teeth.”’Fore I rip yer’ head clean off.”

“R-right! We’ll talk later.” he laughed out nervously and tucked tail as Soap stared you down through the eyes of a starving street dog; getting the hell out of dodge. He kept his eyes on Soap as he left- a survival instinct not to show your back to a hungry predator.

”I tried to warn them about the Max deal.” you pressed once alone, hoping to avoid an argument. “Ah’know, bonnie.” he hummed lowly, a sweaty, gloved hand coming to graze your cheek. His sudden, loose tenderness came as a shock to your system. “Yer’ not like those vultures- Ye’ don’t see me as an asset.” His empty blue eyes relaxed, pupils dilating as his other hand raised to cradle the other side of your face, both thumbs brushing the corners of your lashlines. “Aye, Yer’ the good one. So patient with a daft bastard like me.” Your eyelids trembled slightly, his gaze zeroing in on the movement. “You want me like I want you?” 

Your eyes darted to your lap, urging Soap to tap at your cheek. “Eyes up- On me.” 

“You give the word and ah’ll treat you better than any man ever could. Ah’ll set ye’ right.” his voice dropped to a low boom. “Yer’ the only good thing ‘round me, have been since the moment we met.” You could still remember why you were hired. Soap was on the come up, but couldn't seem to figure out why getting into random scuffs with strangers over little annoyances was a bad thing. Especially for a man with a body that was essentially a lethal dose of muscle and bulk he had been specially trained in how to throw around. Possible fatal outcomes aside, it wasn't making him a man to root for. Every fight needed tension, but Soap wasn't a man built for pyrrhic victories- he was an underdog, biting and gnashing his way through cage after cage; man after man. He was meant to enjoy his hard-earned glory, and because of your work- MMA fans absolutely adored him. 

Soap huffed out, head tilting. “Y-yeah- yes, okay.” you whispered, trying not to psych yourself out. Your lips creased, head nodding before you could chicken out. 

Pulled into an blurred vortex, it took you an embarrassing amount of time to realize you were hiked over his shoulder as he lumbered towards his private locker room for the fight, locking the door behind him. Setting you gently on the luxurious industrial sink counter was his last mercy as he ripped off his gloves and clawed at your bottoms and underwear, yanking them off your legs. A freshly-bare and clammy hand braced itself under each thigh as he jacked your legs up and over his broad shoulders, a pleased grunt passing his lips. 

He lowered down before cursing and pushing your legs back up against your chest. 

You made a small noise, worried you had somehow fucked something up for him which earned you a growl and a headshake as he grunted and spat his mouthguard onto your tummy, sticky saliva coating your skin as it found its resting place before he dove back in, not caring where the plastic ended up. 

He pressed open-mouthed kisses at the apex of your thighs, sucking and biting at the skin like he was underfed and hungry. You whined as his teeth kept digging into the sensitive flesh, earning satisfied hums from the man in response, stubble not helping your case. You flexed, legs caging in his head which had seemed to guide him towards your waiting cunt.

The noises he emitted as he lapped at your folds made you feel nauseated and lightheaded, a blushing mess.

A shoulder jerked upwards to support your leg so he could explore the messy folds with a newly-unoccupied hand, but didnt pull his mouth back to give himself the space needed to do so; leaving you reeling at the feeling of such a concentrated area of stimulation.

As if sensing your limits, he bullied his way deeper, growling into your pussy in a way that left black spots at the corner of your vision.

Brutish fingers began to dip into the spot they had been searching for and you could feel his body tense and flex as he practically humped into the space beneath the counter, hips desperately chasing contact it wasn't receiving. He cursed against your flesh, mouth covered in drool and slick as he rose upwards, reminding you of a hulking behemoth as you were forced to accommodate the new position. He gazed down with hazy eyes and a glistening jaw as he focused on jamming whatever he could of his finger into your cunt, twitching and thrusting the digit inside you. As if the stretch wasnt enough to satisfy that itch in the back of his skull, he stuffed in his ring finger next to it, pinky and index bracing his hand as he fucked the fingers into you, transfixed. 

You were going to pass out at this rate, his knuckles, malformed from years of improper training and injury- kissed at your inner walls, sending you out of body. 

His lids lowered, pace easing as a thought passed his mind. He paused, stretching open the hole as his throat bobbed a few times. Your head clumsily lolled to the side just in time to watch a fat wad of spit drip from his mouth, directly into your slicked pussy. He smiled, happy with himself and savoring the sight for a moment before continuing his ministrations- slower this time, deeper. He angled his hand, thumb massaging at your clit just to see the way you would react. 

You didn't disappoint him, the sight of you causing his mouth to part, drool still hanging from his chin. “Fuuuck.” he breathed, drawing the word out. "-What a sight ye' are." His eyes darted back to your cunt, thick brows quirking as he experimentally ground his thumb deeper into your nub, urging a cry to push its way out of your lungs. His teeth glinted as he huffed out a small laugh. “Yer’ being so good to me too, huh?” he rumbled happily, eyes coasting along your stretched folds and it took you a moment to realize he wasn't talking to you. He pulled his fingers out slowly, scooping the mixed fluids up and popping them into his mouth. “Mmh-” he groaned, diving back in to gather more, this time digging deep. the movement finally pushed you over the edge. “Tha’s it.” he praised, dipping his head low to lap his mess beneath your flexing thighs.  -

You spent the following half hour under a steaming waterfall shower head with a looming mass tucked against your back, cleaning you up and rutting against you in random incriments- his skin surely emitting steam at a higher rate than the water. He bowed his head into your neck, bunting against you and inhaling the smell of his favourite body wash on your skin. “-Got an offer from 141 Athletics a bit ago, they could take care of it all for us, y'know.” he mumbled, pausing and dragging his nose along your nape. “Yer' coming-" he breathed out. “You work for me, not Mitch- You're coming with me.” you could feel his lips drag up in a sneer against your skin when the man's name left his mouth. In an attempt to comfort him, you tried to turn and face him, but thick arms stopped you, curling under your arms and around your chest, sneaking a feel before pulling you into him, the fatty layer coating his pecs molding against your back like a dream.

You nodded.

“Good.” he sighed.

[estrellami-1]

Ok so I saw a post about Steve as a teacher letting his kids control his Spotify which means his Wrapped is All Over The Place but the top artist is Corroded Coffin and Steve finds out from the thank-you video that Eddie is hot. I see it, I love it, it’s inspired.

I’m thinking something… a little different.

“Alright, class!” Steve calls. “Marcus, it’s your turn to choose the music, right?”

“Actually, Mr. H?” Amber pipes up. “Spotify Wrapped came out today!”

Steve blinks. “Spotify… what?”

Marcus is nodding. “Spotify Wrapped! It tallies up what you’ve listened to and gives you stats and stuff. It’s cool!”

“Ah,” Steve says, nodding, squinting at his computer. “And I see that… how?”

There’s a cacophony of noise until Steve holds up a hand. Everyone quiets, and Becky holds her hand up. He nods at her. “It’s at the top,” she says softly. “Where your recently played is.”

He smiles at her. “Thank you, Becky.” He navigates to it, clicking on it and letting the graphic play.

Their genre, apparently, is soft grass indie metal. He’s entirely sure that’s made up. Their top artist, making up sixty-four percent of the music they listened to, is Corroded Coffin.

There’s a video; a little thank-you the band put together. It starts with Eddie up front, as the lead singer. Gareth, Jeff, and Freak are slightly behind him, grinning at the camera. Steve recognizes the background as Jeff’s living room. “Hi!” Eddie starts. “Thanks so much for listening to our music this year.”

“We couldn’t do what we do without you,” Gareth adds on.

“And everything we do is for you!” Jeff says.

“It’s totally metal of you to listen to our music, and we appreciate it!” Freak finishes. They all wave, and the camera cuts off.

Steve is… gobsmacked. He loves his husband, truly, but he looks so uncomfortable, and the way he’s speaking is weirdly stilted. He was not made to stand still.

He shakes his head, knowing he’s about to make Eddie’s year, and blow these kids’ minds.

Eddie had always been more vocal than Steve about coming out, saying fuck it to the consequences. Maybe being gay was accepted in the metal community, but Steve had been too new in his current job to even think about the jeopardy this could put his career in.

But honestly. That video was terrible, and his kids deserve better.

He sighs, raises a hand to get the class’s attention. “I know that was cool,” he chuckles. “But if you can be quiet and patient, I could get you something even cooler.”

“Cooler than a video from Corroded Coffin?” Nick asks.

Steve tilts his head. “Cooler than that video, at least.”

Nick doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?”

Steve just smiles. “How about we find out?” He puts a finger to his lips and FaceTimes Eddie.

He makes sure his volume is low, enough so that he even has trouble hearing when Eddie picks up.

“Baby!” Eddie exclaims, then clocks the background and is instantly worried. “Wait, you’re still at work. Are you okay? Is everything okay? Did you hit your head again? Do I need to come get you?”

“Christ, you’re dramatic,” Steve mutters, grinning wide. “I’m fine. I’m with my class, and we just finished looking at our Spotify Wrapped. Guess who our number one artist for the year was.”

Eddie’s eyes sparkle. He grins. Steve nods. “Corroded Coffin,” he confirms, then sighs. “I have to say, though, I was a little disappointed by the video.”

Eddie groans, throwing his head back. Steve gets a great view up his husband’s nose. “I know! I know, it sucked, but the guys were happy with it and it was, like, our eighth go, and-”

“I get it,” Steve promises. “But how would you like to one-up it?”

It takes Eddie a second, but his eyes gleam. “Are you sure? Your career-”

“Is stable enough now,” Steve finishes. “I’m sure. If you are.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mouths, conscientious of Steve’s class. “I love you.”

Steve smiles, blows a kiss to the camera. He gets a smattering of awws from some of his female students.

He figures out how to connect his phone to his computer to the screen, pushes the volume button up, and nods. “Go, Eds.”

Eddie grins and waves at the screen. “Hi, Mr. Harrington’s class! I’ve heard so much about you guys. It’s totally metal that you’re listening to our music—that’s something your teacher neglected to tell me.” He grins at the screen, a private thing for Steve, who dutifully rolls his eyes.

“I hear your music every day, Eds, forgive me if I don’t think anything of it when I hear it here and at home.”

“Mr. H,” Nathan asks in a pseudo-whisper, “how the hell do you know Eddie Munson?”

Eddie bursts out in a laugh. “You must be Nathan,” he says.

Nathan goes white, then pink. “H-hi, Mr. Munson, sir.”

“I think you should be their teacher,” Steve says, grinning first at Eddie, then his class. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Nathan say sir before.”

Everyone laughs—including Nathan—and Eleanor raises her hand. “How do you know him?”

Steve takes a breath, glances at his phone. Eddie’s smiling patiently at him, and Steve’s own smile grows as he answers her. “I’m his husband,” he tells her.

“Ten years and counting!” Eddie crows. “Though we’ve known each other for… twenty… something.”

Steve chuckles. “Twenty-three, Eds. If you count high school, which I don’t.”

“But I do,” Eddie nods. “Twenty-three years. And counting.”

Steve chuckles again. “And counting,” he agrees.

As his room explodes into noise, he looks back at his phone to find Eddie already looking at him.

That’s the way it goes, he thinks. Eddie saw him the whole time. It took Steve a while to catch up, but now that he has, he’s never been happier.

Twenty-three years and counting, indeed.

[hanniebaeee]

Freckles and Brownies

Felix x fem!reader

Warnings: spicy dreams, some smut (not deep), and reader is slightly older MDNI

Genre: neighbors/friends to lovers, fluff, smut

Summary: Your sweet neighbor Felix has the biggest crush on you. You try not to give in, but he's way too irresistible.

You knew he was coming over even before you heard the knock on your door. Your apartment building had the thinnest walls in the history of thin walls - it was pathetic really.

But you liked your cute little apartment a lot - it was quiet (most of the time) and comfortable. Then there was Felix, your sweet neighbor who lived next door with his roommate, Jisung.

Felix was a joy to have around, because he was kind, considerate, and he always had a smile on his face. And he was totally obsessed with you.

He loved to bake and every time he baked, he would knock on your door, with a box of such yummy treats.

“Hey, I made extra. Thought you might like some,” he’d say, handing them over, with the softest smile on his face.

And your heart would skip a beat because, seriously, he looked like a fantasy wrapped in an apron.

Yes, you thought he was adorable. But he was your neighbor and you knew he was a few years younger, and so, adorable or not - you never crossed that line.

So, you pretended not to see the way he constantly blushed around you or the way his eyes would always linger a second too long. It was so hard, when he was right there in front of you, baking brownies or cookies every other day just so he could come and see you.

You had to draw a line. You had to.

The night was quiet, except for the soft tapping of your fingers on your keyboard as you worked. You were in bed, hair pulled into a messy bun, a mug of tea in hand, trying to meet a deadline you couldn’t ignore.

Your focus, however, was shattered by a noise from the other side of the wall. The very wall that separated your apartment from Felix’s.

At first, it was very faint. A low, muffled groan. You paused, fingers hovering over the keys, straining to listen. Maybe Felix was having another one of his late-night gaming sessions with Jisung?

Then it came again. Oh that's definitely not related to gaming.

You froze. Because that was a moan. A low, breathy moan. And it was your name.

“Y/N…”

Your stomach dropped. No way. NO WAY!

But then you heard it again. And again. His voice, soft yet clear, filtering through the paper-thin wall separating your bedroom from his. The sounds that followed were unguarded, raw, and so unbelievably... dirty.

“Oh, God, Y/N…”

Your entire body flushed with embarrassment and something else entirely. You slapped a hand over your mouth completely scandalized.

Ok, you knew he liked you, but this? He couldn’t be…was he seriously…?

You quickly shook your head as if that would help banish the thought. No. Felix was sweet and innocent and, okay, not innocent, but still.

But then came another sound. This one unmistakable the creak of a bed frame, followed by a low, guttural moan that sent your imagination spiraling to a whole new level.

“Oh, fuck,” you heard him whisper. “So good…”

Your hands shot to your headphones. It wasn’t even a choice at this point - it was pure survival. You jammed them onto your head and cranked up the volume on your playlist. There.

Not that it worked. Because no matter how loud the music, you could still hear him in your head.

You buried your face in your hands. You weren’t supposed to be hearing this. You weren’t supposed to be thinking about how Felix - sweet, blushing, brownie-baking Felix - was currently doing whatever he was doing!

---

Meanwhile, on the other side of the wall…

Felix was lost in his dream, blissfully unaware of the chaos he was causing. In his dream, you were standing in his kitchen, wearing one of those pretty sweaters he always saw you in. But this time, the fabric was slipping off one of your shoulders as you leaned over the counter, a teasing smile on your lips. Oh he could see way more than just a bit of skin.

“Do you want a taste?” you asked, holding up your fingers dripping with chocolate.

He swallowed hard, his voice barely functioning. “Y-Yeah…”

You laughed softly, dipping your fingers into your mouth, licking them clean yourself.

“You have to ask nicely, baby.” you whispered.

His dream-self didn’t hesitate. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer, his lips crashing into your chocolate stained ones in a kiss so desperate, so needy, it made his whole body ache.

Felix let out a deep, throaty groan, clutching his pillow tightly as his dream-self pushed you against the counter, rutting against you like his life depended on it.

He pushed his face into his pillow, his hips moving against the mattress for some friction. He snaps awake, feeling a bit disoriented, but so damn hard and needy.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice so deep and raw. “I need you…”

His hand slips into his sweatpants, trying to help himself out of this mess, face still pressed into his pillow.

---

You yanked off your headphones, groaning in frustration. This was ridiculous. You were a grown woman. You could handle this.

You groaned as you heard another moan followed by the creaking of his bed (more frantically), and you threw yourself back onto your bed, burying your face in your pillow to stifle the hysterical laugh bubbling up in your chest.

This was insane. Completely, utterly insane. How are you supposed to face him tomorrow? You can't, not after this.

—

The next morning, you're walking down the hallway, so fatigued and sleep deprived after you spent the whole night unable to fall asleep. You were dressed for work, your bag in one hand, your phone in the other.

And the universe decided to play the most ridiculous joke on you, because there came Felix from the opposite side - t-shirt half-tucked, hair a little messy - looking totally…spent.

You tried to act casual, but he froze when he saw you.

“Morning!” he chirped, his face lighting up when he saw you. “You’re up early!”

“Yeah, well, work, you know…”

“Are you okay? You look kind of flustered.” Felix tilted his head, studying you.

“I’m fine!” you blurted, far too quickly.

“Are you sure? You seem a little... tense.” he said, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

Oh no, he wasn't doing this right now.

“Did you sleep well last night, Felix?” you asked, crossing your arms against your chest.

Felix blinked, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he said, “Uh... yeah. Why?”

You smiled sweetly, your tone laced with barely concealed mischief.

“Oh, no reason. You just seemed... very well-rested.”

Felix’s eyes widened, the realization hitting him rather mercilessly. “Oh my God.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh at the poor boy.

“What's wrong?” you asked, and he turned bright red, his hands flying to cover his face.

“I- I didn’t - how did you - oh my God!”

You patted his shoulder, thoroughly enjoying his meltdown and said, “Don’t worry, Lixie. Your secret’s safe with me.”

And with that, you walked away, leaving Felix a stuttering, blushing mess in the hallway.

Felix tried. He really did. After the mortifying revelation that you’d heard him, he swore to himself he’d keep his cool. He was a man, and he was going to act like it. Mature. Collected. Cool.

But every time he saw you, his resolve crumbled like one of his cookies.

You’d stopped by to return the Tupperware he’d given you last week (filled with brownies he’d baked as yet another excuse to see you). You were dressed casually in yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt, your hair tied back, but Felix could hardly keep his composure.

“Thanks again for the brownies,” you said, handing him the container with a smile. “They were great. As always.”

His heart did a full somersault at your praise. He took the container, his fingers brushing yours, and you swore you felt him shiver.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he stammered, cheeks dusted pink. “Anytime.”

He looked into the box that was definitely not empty, and saw that was indeed full.

“I made some lasagna, we never return empty containers,” you said with a wink and Felix blushed as he smiled.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He said, “Um, -”

A silence stretched between you two, broken only when Jisung called from inside, “Felix! Are you flirting with her again?!”

Your eyes went wide and Felix choked, turning toward the door.

“I’m not - she’s not - shut up, Jisung!” he growled and you laughed, as Felix turned back to you, now red as a tomato.

“Anyway,” you said quickly, backing toward your apartment, “I’ve gotta go.”

“Yeah, of course!” Felix said, nodding too quickly. “See you later?”

“Sure,”

---

“I don’t know what to do,” you groaned, stirring your latte, as your best friend, Jennie eyed you with a smirk. “He’s so… sweet. And attractive. And every time I see him, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Jennie raised an eyebrow, sipping her Americano and said, “So, I don't see the problem?”

“The problem,” you emphasized, “is that he’s younger than me. What if he regrets it later?"

Jennie snorted.

“Oh, please. What's a couple of years have to do with anything? He’s an adult. He can vote, drive, drink - he's a big boy, Y/N. Stop making excuses.”

“It’s not just the age thing,” you protested. “We're neighbors. It’s messy. If it doesn't work out, I'd have to move and then-”

“Babe, he's hot,” Jennie added, waggling her eyebrows. “Come on, Y/N. The guy clearly worships you. I bet he’d walk barefoot through a field of Legos if you asked him to.”

“Jen-”

“Look,” she interrupted, leaning forward with a smirk, “I get it. You’re scared. But life’s short. If you want him, go for it.”

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. Jennie was the worst. But she was also… not entirely wrong.

---

For Felix, this was a whole crisis.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. The way you smiled, the way you smelled when you leaned in just a little too close. It was driving him insane.

Jisung, of course, noticed his nonstop thirsting.

“Dude,” Jisung said, tossing the controller onto the couch as Felix stared blankly at his laptop. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Felix muttered, though the pink tint to his ears gave him away.

“Oh, come on,” Jisung groaned. “It’s been, what, six months? You’re salivating every time she walks by.”

“She’s… amazing, ok? And perfect. And…” He trailed off, sighing deeply. “She’d never go for someone like me.”

“Why not?” Jisung asked, genuinely curious.

“Because she’s…her,” Felix said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She's beautiful, and successful. And-”

“And so into you,” Jisung interrupted. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Trust me, she’s interested.”

Felix shook his head, his heart aching. He wanted to believe it, but every time he got close to you, he felt like you were slipping through his fingers.

That night, as you lay in bed, your mind wandered back to Felix. To his soft voice, his shy smile, and the way he looked at you like you were his entire world.

You groaned, rolling onto your side. This was ridiculous. Jennie’s words echoed in your mind, Life’s short. If you want him, go for it.

You shook your head, trying to push the thought away. But then you heard it - the doorbell.

You sat up, heart racing. It was almost midnight. You slipped out of bed and walked to your door. You heard the bell again, and this time, Felix’s voice with it.

“Y/N?” Felix’s voice was soft but urgent. “It’s me.”

You opened the door quickly to find Felix standing there, looking equal parts nervous and determined.

“Felix, is everything ok?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he blurted out, his freckles stark against his flushed cheeks. “I know this is crazy, and I know I probably don’t have a chance, but… I had to tell you. Because it’s driving me crazy. You’re driving me crazy.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“Felix, I -”

“I don't know what to do,” he continued, his voice trembling. “But I need you to know. I’m completely, hopelessly in love with you.”

—---

The clock on your nightstand read 2:47 AM. You’d been lying in bed for hours, unable to sleep, your head spinning.

Felix’s confession played on repeat in your head.

I’m completely, hopelessly in love with you.

The words had shattered something inside you. You’d wanted to say something, anything, but all you’d managed was a stunned silence - staring at him with your mouth open, that he gave you a rushed goodnight. And bolted.

Since then, you’d been teetering on the edge of panic and longing. You didn't say anything. Anything at all. And seeing the disappointment in those big beautiful eyes of his, seeing his face crumble with sadness at your silence was absolutely heartbreaking.

You turned onto your side, facing the wall you shared with Felix. Your heart ached, the weight of unspoken feelings pressing down on your chest. He was right there, so close, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to bridge the gap.

---

Felix lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, his hands gripping the sheets like they were the only things tethering him to reality.

He had spilled his heart to you, thinking it would work. And now? Now it felt like his heart was breaking into a thousand pieces.

You hadn’t said anything. Not a single word to give him hope or closure. He tried to convince himself you were just processing, that you weren’t rejecting him - but the silence was the most painful thing he'd ever had to endure.

His gaze drifted to the wall separating his room from yours. And his mind, traitorous as always, began to wander. He imagined you on the other side, lying in your bed, the soft curve of your lips, the way your eyes would flutter shut if he kissed you.

His fantasies were vivid, and utterly maddening.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. He wanted you so badly it hurt. But more than that, he wanted you to want him.

He felt like he was suffocating.

---

You couldn't take it anymore. It felt way too claustrophobic in your room. You sat up, your heart racing and climbed out of bed and padded to your door.

You needed some air.

---

The sound of your door opening reached him, and his heart leapt into his throat. He scrambled out of bed, throwing on a hoodie as he moved to his own door.

He opened his door and walked straight into you.

“Y/N,” he breathed, after his body clashed with yours, and his voice was so husky and breathless.

“I…” You hesitated, looking equally breathless and surprised. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Felix stepped closer, his gaze searching yours. “Me neither.”

You bit your lip, your chest heaving with the stress of it all.

“Felix, about what you said earlier…” you began.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“I meant it. Every word.” he whispered.

“I know,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “And I…”

Before you could finish, Felix closed the distance between you, his hands coming up to cradle your face. His touch was gentle, and you both had a moment, staring at each other, absolutely terrified.

You didn't know who moved first, but here you two were, kissing. A kiss so soft at first, then deepening as months of pent-up desire spilled over. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a desperation that reflected your own.

Your back hit the wall and he tilted his head, licking into your mouth, and it was so absolutely hot.

When you finally pulled away from Felix, your lips still tingled from the kiss, and your heart pounded so hard.

Felix’s eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed a deep red. He looked absolutely stunned, his lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out.

Oh no, why wasn't he saying anything?!

“I…” you began, but the words got stuck in your throat.

What could you even say?

“I’m sorry,” Felix whispered, his voice strained. He took a step back, running a hand through his hair, clearly panicking.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” you blurted, hugging your arms around yourself, feeling exposed in the oversized sweater you’d thrown on before bed. It barely skimmed your thighs, and now you were hyper-aware of how Felix’s eyes kept darting to your legs before snapping back up to your face.

Felix’s jaw tightened, and he let out a shaky breath.

“I…I should go.” he murmured and before you could stop him, he turned and sprinted back into his apartment, leaving you standing there.

—

The moment Felix shut the door to his apartment, he leaned against it.

“Shit,” he whispered, his eyes closed and voice trembling.

He wanted to scream. Or throw himself off a cliff. Because right now, all he could think about was the way you tasted, the way you looked in that damn sweater. The way you looked so… thrown after the kiss.

Groaning, he went to his bedroom and fell onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow. He was turned on beyond belief, but the guilt was just as strong.

That kiss, though perfect, felt impulsive and reckless. And now? He had no idea where you two stood.

---

By the time the sun came up, Felix was in full-on stress-baking mode.

His kitchen was a disaster - half empty bags of flour, bowls and utensils littered every surface, and his oven was working overtime. He’d already made two trays of brownies, cookies, and a batch of cupcakes, and he was still going.

Because every time he paused, every time he let himself think, his mind betrayed him. That damn kiss was playing on repeat in his head.

He threw himself back into baking, hoping it would distract him. But it didn’t work. His fantasies just grew wilder.

“Stop it,” Felix hissed to himself, slamming the oven door shut.

But the damage was done. He was a mess.

---

By the time Jisung woke up (close to noon) and stumbled into the kitchen, Felix was pulling yet another tray of cookies out of the oven.

“What the hell happened here?” Jisung asked, blinking at the mountain of baked goods that had taken over their apartment. “Did you open a bakery while I was asleep?”

Felix shot him a glare and said, “Don’t start.”

Jisung raised his hands in surrender, though he did ask, “Rough night?”

Felix didn’t answer, instead focusing on packing some of the cookies into containers.

Jisung leaned against the counter, smirking. “This is obviously about Y/N.”

Felix froze for a second.

“I knew it,” Jisung said, grinning. “Care to share what happened?”

Felix’s ears turned bright red as he shook his head.

“I’m not talking about it,” he said.

“Okay, fine,” Jisung said, grabbing a cookie. “But, for what it’s worth, you should tell her how you’re feeling. Like, really tell her.”

Felix sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“I already did.” he said sadly.

Jisung blinked in surprise. “And?”

“She didn’t say anything.” Felix’s voice was quiet, almost defeated. “And then…and then…never mind.”

---

The moment you stepped into the hallway after a long day at work, you were hit with the mouthwatering aroma of chocolate and vanilla.

You paused, inhaling deeply. Felix was baking again.

You’d just changed into your pyjamas when there was a knock at your door. Opening it, you weren’t surprised to find Felix standing there, holding four containers of baked goods in his hands.

He looked kind of disheveled and his expression was tight - like he was barely holding it together.

“Felix,” you started, but he thrust the containers into your hands before you could say more.

“What’s all this?” you asked, looking down at the overflowing assortment of brownies, cookies, and cupcakes.

Felix let out a laugh - a sharp and humorless one.

“It’s your fault,” he said and your eyebrows shot up.

“My fault?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Because I can’t stop thinking about how you didn't say a word after I admitted my feelings for you. And then we kiss, and you don't say anything even then.”

Your lips parted, words failing you as he continued.

“It hurts. My heart hurts, and if I sit still I feel like I'm gonna faint. So yeah, I've been baking nonstop for hours now. You can eat them, throw them out, whatever you want. I just…I needed to get them out of my kitchen before I baked myself into oblivion.”

You sighed, setting the containers down on a nearby table. “Felix -”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head and taking a step back. “Don’t.”

“What? At least-”

“I have to go, or I'll end up doing something really stupid.”

And before you could stop him, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with all his baked treats and a heart that felt like it was breaking.

Felix was spiraling.

For days, he’d been avoiding you as much as possible. He hated it. He hated having to speed walk past you or ignoring you. He couldn't stop craving you, and all through his heartache, he still missed you.

And he still couldn’t stop himself from baking for you. It was the only way he knew to show how much he cared without risking saying or doing something that might ruin everything further.

The knock on your door came as you were finishing dinner. You opened it to find Felix standing there, looking as nervous as ever, holding a box of brownies.

“Hi,” he said, his voice soft.

“Hi, Felix,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe.

“I made these for you.” he said, holding the box out to you, his hands trembling slightly.

You took the box, your eyes narrowing slightly.

“Thanks, but -” Before you could finish, he turned and started to walk away.

“Felix!” you called after him, but he didn’t stop.

Something inside you snapped. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Felix!” you yelled again, quickly placing the box on the ground and grabbing the back of his hoodie, tugging him to a stop.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he turned halfway to look at you.

“Please don’t do this to me, Y/N,” he said, his voice low. “I’m trying so hard to hold it together.”

“Well, stop,” you said firmly, pulling him back toward your apartment, your grip on his hoodie strong.

“Y/N,” he protested, stumbling slightly as you dragged him inside. “You don’t get it!”

“Shut up, Felix,” you snapped, cutting him off as you slammed the door behind you.

He blinked at you, startled, his mouth opening to say something else, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“I like you, okay?” you yelled, your voice rising. “I like you back, Felix! I’ve been trying to hold it in, trying to be reasonable because this whole thing is complicated and I didn’t want to make it weird, but I can’t take it anymore! You’ve been driving me mad with all your running and your baking and your stupid perfect face, so just - just shut up and kiss me already!”

For a moment, Felix just stared at you, his eyes wide, his lips parted in shock.

“You… what?” he whispered, as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

“I said I like you,” you repeated, your chest heaving. “Now are you going to kiss me or not?”

In an instant, he closed the space between you, his hands cupping your face as he crashed his lips against yours.

The kiss was desperate, frantic even, and you responded with just as much intensity, your hands fisting in the front of his hoodie to pull him closer.

Felix’s lips were soft but insistent, his hands shaking slightly as they slid from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were gasping for air, trembling and flushed.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?” Felix whispered, his voice rough and shaky.

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of his face and said, “Probably as long as I have.”

He let out a soft laugh, his eyes shining with something you could only describe as pure joy.

And he kissed you over and over, until the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you and the undeniable connection you felt with each other.

Dating Felix felt like stepping into a dream.

From the moment you both decided to give it a go, it was as if everything clicked into place. Now, you were greeted with the soft press of his lips whenever he saw you and even softer smiles that melted your insides.

He was so attentive, and so utterly devoted. And more perfect than you'd ever thought a person could be. He stayed over at yours a lot, and you kept him company whenever you could over at his. And it was absolutely magical.

Oh and he taught you how to bake. Or at least he tried.

---

Felix’s kitchen was a mess as usual, all his baking things spread everywhere. His sleeves were rolled up and his hair pushed back with a bandana.

You were perched on the kitchen counter, dressed in that sweater - the oversized one he loved so much, the one that barely skimmed the tops of your thighs. Your hair was loose, your smile teasing, and you looked like you'd walked straight out of his dream.

Felix swallowed hard, as he tried not to look at you. But when he did, he saw you leaning forward slightly, resting your chin in your hand.

“What’s next, Chef Lee?” you asked, nodding toward the bowl of brownie batter.

Felix cleared his throat, trying to gather himself.

“Uh, okay. So, once we mix the dry ingredients…”

His voice trailed off as you dipped your finger into the batter, scooping up a bit and popping it into your mouth.

The sound you made - a soft hum of approval - almost made him drop the bowl.

“Mmm,” you said, licking your finger clean. “That’s so good.”

Felix’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping the edge of the bowl to keep himself steady.

“Baby,” he said, his voice strained.

“What?” you asked, your eyes wide with mock innocence.

“You’re not… helping,” he managed, his gaze slipping down to your thighs.

You tilted your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you said, “I’m not?”

“No,” he said, setting the bowl down and taking a step closer to you.

“What am I doing, then?” you teased, tapping his bottom lip with your finger.

Felix caught your wrist, his grip firm but gentle.

“You’re being a bad girl,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire.

Your breath hitched as he stepped between your legs, his hands sliding over your thighs.

“What do you want, baby?” he asked, his fingers tightening on your skin.

You smirked, leaning in just enough for your lips to brush against his.

“I want you.”

That was all it took.

Felix kissed you like he was starving, his hands running over your thighs as he pressed you closer. He tasted of chocolate and something so uniquely him, and you honestly couldn't get enough.

His lips moved to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He pushed the fabric off your shoulder, kissing all your exposed skin, groaning as you thread your fingers through his hair and tugged lightly.

He pushed you back against the wall, his hands reaching under your sweater and pulling down your panties quickly. You gasped as he quickly bent down and threw your legs over his shoulders.

Your breath caught as he kissed your inner thighs and went on to give you the most mind blowing orgasm of your life.

The bowl of brownie batter sat forgotten on the counter as he devoured you. Your fingers were in his hair, his bandana long lost and followed by his shirt and a lot more.

You sat on the counter, grinning smugly, your legs swinging lazily as you watched him, shirtless and glowing, trying to salvage the brownies he had abandoned earlier.

Felix glanced at you, his freckled cheeks still tinged pink, and smirked. He just lived his fantasy. And you were glowing, and it filled his heart to see you like that.

“The brownies, Lixie,” You reminded him as he lost focus, and was lost in thought, his eyes fixed on you.

He was about to reply when the front door opened, and Jisung walked in.

“Felix -” Jisung stopped mid-sentence as he walked into the kitchen, his eyes darting between you, perched on the counter, and Felix, standing there shirtless with a tray of brownies in hand.

There was a long, awkward pause as Jisung's eyes fell on Felix’s shirt lying on the floor. And obviously both of you looked enough ruffled for anyone to catch up.

“Oh my god,” Jisung finally said, his face scrunching up in horror. “Ew! Not in the kitchen!”

You burst into laughter, your hands flying to your mouth, while Felix just shook his head.

“Nothing happened here!” Felix insisted, though the sheepish grin tugging at his lips wasn’t helping his case.

Jisung pointed an accusing finger at his shirt lying on the floor.

“Don’t lie to me! There’s literally evidence of your sins everywhere!” he said.

“Jisung, I swear -”

“Save it!” Jisung cut him off dramatically, turning to leave. “I’m never eating anything that comes out of this kitchen again!”

You couldn’t stop giggling as Felix turned to you.

“Babe,” he muttered, though he couldn't help but smile.

“I’m sorry,” you said, trying to sound sincere but failing miserably.

Felix rolled his eyes, setting the tray down before stepping closer again.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he said, teasingly.

“Lucky, huh?” you said, looping your arms around his neck.

He leaned in, brushing his lips against yours as he said, “Very lucky.”

“I CAN HEAR YOU!” Jisung’s voice rang out from his bedroom.

You both burst out into giggles, and you kissed him again.

“I love you, Lixie.”

“I love you, baby.”

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght

[sweetshuga]

「 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆? ✧ 𝑪.𝑺 」

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝑺𝑴𝑼𝑻! ⭒ +𝟏𝟖 ⭒ cursing ⭒ munch!chris ⭒ pussy eating ⭒ dirty talk ⭒ overstimulation (f) ⭒ blowjob ⭒ soft dom!chris + more.

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 𝟖𝟖𝟒

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: My first ever smut! Fixed the aesthetic a bit<3

𝑲𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝑰𝒏 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒅: English is not my first language!

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: What happens when you start to like the guy you hook up with regularly—only for him to not reciprocate.

"Wait-" a moan escaped your mouth before you could finish your words.

"Stop squirmin’ ma," his voice muffled by your dripping core as he ate you out like a starving man.

Your back arched as you thrashed around, unable to stay still, after all, you had orgasmed who knows how many times now. Every nerve in your body was burning, your skin oversensitized from the sheer amount of back to back climaxes.

"Chris, please," his name a broken whimper on your lips as he still didn't stop despite your trembling body, instead, slowly slipped two long digits in, curling them just right as he sucked hard on your clit.

𓆩♡𓆪

You and Chris had an argument, and no, not a lover’s quarrel; you two weren’t exclusive after all.

He had stated once again that you two weren't a thing, much to your distaste. You liked him. It wasn’t a secret really, even he knew you liked him like that.

You sulked, as per usual, earning an eye roll and a scoff from Chris. He had made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want anything serious, he wasn’t ready... yet.

He had always thought you were a pretty girl. Smart and funny to boot, honestly the epitome of a desirable woman. Great personality, nice- no, perfect fucking ass, one of the things he noticed the first time he saw you around campus.

Chris wasn’t the relationship type, neither was he a player, sure, he had his fair share of girls every now and then but he was never that crazy about flings.

He couldn’t deny it, it was never a secret, he had made it clear to every girl around campus that he wasn’t the biggest fan of commitment. Scared was an understatement when it came to relationships for Chris.

He was terrified.

Though you weren’t just some random chick he wanted to play fuck and duck with; you were real, you liked him, really liked him. He couldn’t deny that fluttering feeling he got when you were around.

You were beautiful and all, that ass though damn, but even with that fluttering feeling he got with you around, he wasn’t that into you to consider working on his commitment issues for you.

The playful argument you had with Chris ended up, yet again, with you in bed with him.

𓆩♡𓆪

Back to the present, the present where your body bowed off the bed, unable to control your moans.

Your eyes rolled back in pure ecstasy, spots dancing behind it, and the noises coming out of your mouth were purely pornographic.

You had orgasmed yet again.

Almost on the verge of passing out is when Chris finally lets go of your clit with a wet pop. The poor nub swollen and oversensitized.

"Damn... you’re a mess..." a low rumble of a chuckle slipped through his pretty pink lips that now glistened with your juices.

His chin dripping with it.

"Think you broke me... dunno if I can... move," you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

"Dramatic much?" Chris chuckled huskily in amusement, his voice hoarse from disuse and desire. He watched as your eyes closed and your body went limp.

"Oh c’mon ma, don’t go passin’ out on me," he chuckled again as he shook your shoulder gently, causing you to stir.

"mm... Chris... No more." you whined quietly, not like you could speak any louder anyway.

Chris just chuckled again, "whaaat? No more?" he pouted playfully, jutting his bottom lip out dramatically.

"Gee, think you can cut me some slack? been comin’... how many times now? I can’t even remember," he chuckled again, finding your words amusing.

"Can you stop giggling for 5 seconds?" propping yourself on your elbows, as you looked at him with mock annoyance.

Your eyes darted down to his lap, the sheer size of the bulge made you feel that ache between your legs again, despite your words.

Chris seemed to have noticed your gaze. His large hand palmed himself through his loose grey sweatpants.

The pair you loved, and he knew it, that's the reason he wore it in the first place.

"Eyes up sweetheart," he joked, not breaking eye contact with you as he slowly pulled down his sweatpants.

Your eyes widened briefly as his length hit his stomach.

He had gone commando.

"C’mon, don’t look at me like that," he chuckled lowly "n’ you think you can help me with this lil’ problem?"

He noticed the hesitation in your eyes so he added quickly, "promise I won’t put it in... know you’re too sensitive right now."

A soft sigh of relief escaped your lips. "Alright, yeah, I might as well return the favor," you murmured chuckling weakly. You slowly sat up, your body still burning with the previous highs, and pushed him gently into a sitting position.

Chris watched intently, through hooded lids, as your head lowered down to his throbbing erection. His hips jerking slightly when you wrapped your plump lips around his sensitive head.

His lips parted as a low moan fell from it, throwing his head back as you took him deeper in your warm, wet mouth.

"mmh... yeah... just... just like that," he encouraged, his fingers tangling in your hair, making a make-shift ponytail, pushing your head further down, making you take more of his length.

𓆩♡𓆪

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒂

[smutstationchoochoo]

Desperate

COD Men x FemReader

Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.

Word count: ~3.6k

A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.

Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.

The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.

The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.

You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room. 

You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…

Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.

No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.

  Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?”  His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”

Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.

“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.

 You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-

But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.

“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.

He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.

“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.

 His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.

It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?  

You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.

The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.

The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment.  It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?

He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.  

He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.

His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.

He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up.  Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.

“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.

“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.

His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”

Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.

He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”

Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.

“Yes.”

This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.

You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.

“Well, I did say next time.”

This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)

[aakeysmash]

college!sukuna accidentally bumping into you at a café. *inspired* by this ask!

college sukuna masterlist

The bells right next to the front door chime when he enters the café. Today he’s distracted: the kitchen sink back at the apartment is currently leaking and he’s searching online for someone to come look at it. Not that he didn’t already try to fix it, but he doesn’t have the right bolt to repair it alone. He’s just going to order the usual, sit at one of the tables in the corner and play candy crush until Yuuji gets out of school.

He’s a regular here since his brother’s elementary school is right in front of it. Sometimes he just wants to kill time, and pastries here are good for his macros. Or at least he tells himself so.

“Hello, what can I get you?” A female voice asks him from the register. He doesn’t strain his gaze from his phone.

“The usual,” he says. Then he thinks about the familiar voice he just heard and snaps his head up.

“What are you doing here?” “Sukuna?” You both say at the same time.

His surprised face morphs into a smug one in a split second.

“Didn’t know you liked me so much that you started to follow me, baby. You could’ve just waited for me at home if you missed me that much, I would’ve made sure to put some cream in your… coffee,” he says winking at you.

You put on a fake smile before answering. His innuendos are getting worse by the day, he’s disgusting.

“I’m going to poison your coffee if you keep this up, Itadori,” you whisper, as to not make the manager hear you. “Go get some pussy, please, you’re insufferable,” you whine when he gets closer.

He looks you up and down, licking a corner of his lips, mischief still in his gaze. He knows you’re right, sometimes he does a bit too much, but the way you huff and puff brings him more joy than any game on his phone does.

“You know I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole, Y/N. I don’t fuck snitches,” he responds, rolling his eyes.

You chuckle at that. This has been one of your inside jokes since the start. You managed to file 15 noise complaints in the first three weeks of your stay in the apartment, and the owner had to threaten to kick out Sukuna if he didn’t stop fucking girls so loudly. Sukuna had to agree and bite his tongue 5 times during that conversation. He knew you filed the complaints just because he didn’t want to say he was the one who ate Yuuji’s cookies, instead blaming you. Yuuji didn’t talk to you for a day for that, and you took it to heart.

Also, you exaggerated how many times he fucked inside the apartment. By a lot. You knew he had game, or at least you were certain of that seeing how confident he was, but he also hated when Yuuji managed to see some of the girls. Which happened only one time and it was when you moved in. You just filed noise complaints for every little noise you heard from his room, and seeing how the landlord didn’t doubt Sukuna had game either, you won by default.

“So… One black coffee? I don’t know your usual, I’m just covering a friend for today. It’s been a long day,” you say sheepishly, putting some of your hair behind your ear, cringing when you hear your own voice. Suddenly, the screen of the menu is so interesting to you. It’s not like you’re embarrassed as hell to see him here when you’re clumsily trying to understand how things work. It’s not like you’re trying not to look at him at all. Fuck. He is never going to let you live it down if you make a wrong move.

“I can see that,” he adds, serious. He sees your crestfallen look when he finishes his sentence. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that out loud, even if it is pretty obvious. He never saw you this nervous.

“Couldn’t you just fucking lie?” You grit out, composing yourself, pinning him with some sort of rage.

“Not my style, doll,” he answers, raising his shoulders. Your eyes turn into slits and you’re about to say something else when he catches movement behind the counter. The manager.

“Two coffees and a strawberry cake,” he says, getting back to his phone.

You raise an eyebrow. You thought he hated strawberries. You start typing his total when said manager turns to Sukuna.

“Your total is-“

“Man, I haven’t seen you in ages,” the man behind you enthusiastically interrupts you.

“Satoru,” the pink haired man nods, pocketing his phone and making some sort of special handshake with him. They know each other?

“Mind if your coworker here comes home with me?” Sukuna asks the handsome man you have next to you.

Your manager is silent for what feels like 10 long seconds. “Y/N, don’t give into this brute,” he tells you, staring at you behind those dark ass black glasses he wore the entirety of the day. He managed to do the work of three people without breaking a sweat, but he also spent most of his time tasting pastries the chef cooked. He’s nice, you think. But he’s weird as hell. No wonder they’re friends.

“He’s actually my roommate, boss,” you say, smiling up at him. Then you look at Sukuna and your smile drops. “Unfortunately.” Your said roommate flips you off.

“You know what, fuck you. I was just doing you a favour by letting you go earlier, stupid,” Sukuna says, bored.

The white haired man chuckles at the interaction, then tilts his glasses down his nose to look at the man in front of you, amused. “Oh, it’s her, huh.”

Sukuna snarls. “She’s a pain in the ass.”

“Oh, he’s talked about me? What did he say? Is it enough to kick him out and ask for Yuuji’s custody?” you ask, mockingly. Your manager turns to you and you’re almost blinded by how blue his eyes are. You genuinely have to blink a couple of times to make sure you’re still able to see.

He completely ignores your questions, giving you a once over. Then he gets his glasses back on correctly.

“Go home, Y/N, don’t worry. You’ve done an excellent job today. Feel free to come whenever,” he says, giving you a smile as bright as his eyes, then leaves while you think about how your cornea must be damaged now.

“Off the clock, come on,” Sukuna says, taking his phone out again, not sparing you a glance.

“Why don’t you jump off of my dick instead,” you hiss, going to take your purse from the service room. You don’t see the way he tips you anyway, even if you didn’t ask, and takes his order to the nearest table, positioning the cake in front of him. Like he’s waiting for someone.

You get back out front and side eye him, rummaging through your purse violently before sighing defiantly. You forgot your keys.

You turn around to look at Sukuna, who is just a couple of tables away, jumping a little when his eyes are already on you. He gives you a confused look behind his cup of coffee, before putting it down and mouthing “You look stupid, come sit.” You raise one of your eyebrows and you’re going to flip him off when someone bumps into you.

“Yo, cutie,” the man in front of you addresses you. You smile politely and sidestep to the left, getting out of the way, but he follows your movement, positioning himself closer to you.

“I was wondering if you were free now that you don’t have that little apron on,” he tells you languidly, swiping your arm up and down with his hand, stopping at your shoulder. When you try to get it off, he just grips you harder.

“Get your hand off of me or you’re getting kicked in the balls in front of everyone,” you deadpan. He’s slimy, probably conventionally attractive for a lot of girls, but he’s creepy.

He whistles lowly. “I love it when they’re a little feisty,” he smirks, trying to get even closer. You’re raising your knee when he gets pushed off of you and you kick a strong thigh instead. You widen your eyes comically and the man you just kicked winces.

“Man, what the fuck-“ the creep starts, before getting interrupted.

“Don’t touch my girl,” Sukuna seethes. The man takes a step back. Your heart skips a beat. You didn’t think he’d come to your rescue. “Even if her kicks are strong as fuck, I gotta say that. I might have unfortunately just saved your sorry ass’ future sad child,” he says, glancing at you. You giggle.

“There’s no way a fine thing like that is with you,” the man continues blabbering, albeit scared of Sukuna’s imposing feature.

“There’s no way a fine thing like me could ever be with someone like you, you mean,” you say, standing closer to Sukuna.

The man scoffs. “You could do so much better.”

"You? Lying is a sin, motherfucker."

On cue, Sukuna raises one of his arms and drapes it over your shoulder. You’re surprised by how delicately he gets you closer to his body, like he’s thinking you aren’t going to like what he’s doing. You look up at him, laying your hand on his chest, giving him the okay. He stares down at you, swallowing.

“Yeah, I’m lucky,” he says thickly, smirking, before lightly kissing your forehead. The kiss is barely there, you wouldn’t even have felt it if right now you weren’t hyper aware of how intoxicating and warm his body pressed to yours feels. You think you might have a fever from how much the spot he grazed is scorching. Your ears are buzzing, and you don’t distinguish the words the two men are exchanging, getting out of your daze only when the creep exits the cafe with his tail between his legs.

“I didn’t need you, you know,” you say to Sukuna, still looking up, letting your hand fall from his chest. Fuck, he’s ripped.

He nonchalantly gets the bag your manager (grinning behind his hand) is passing him before escorting you out. You notice he didn’t get his arm off of you, and you realise you don’t really mind the soft weight of it. Or maybe you just don’t mind being close to him. Or maybe you don’t mind him at all.

“Now you can tell Yuuji how fucking cool his brother is,” he shrugs, getting you imperceptibly closer to him. You roll your eyes, whining, while he huffs out a laugh.

Back at home, Sukuna goes to take a shower, leaving you with a yapping Yuuji. He’s telling you about his day at school and you get your phone out to read the text you just received, noticing the ping sound.

Worst roommate ever: the cake is urs. eat it. or don’t. idc

[gutsby]

Watch Your Mouth

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel teaches you to keep quiet during sex.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Silence kink. Size kink. Breeding kink. Age gap. Joel is a lot more experienced (!) Finger sucking. Orgasm denial. Soft dom!Joel x10000.

Word count: 1.9k

Prequel | Part 1 | Part 2

Maybe a hand was too much.

A kiss to stifle your cries, a tongue between your lips to steal any trace of a whimper before it could ever leave. Joel knew by the way your wet, pliant hole stretched wider and wider for him with each thrust that you’d eventually quiet down—but he needed silence now.

And he’d get it when he clamped his palm over your mouth. At first, your brows lifted with surprise, then pinched inward like you didn’t understand, then twitched again, involuntarily, when the head of his cock cleared a path straight toward your cervix. You whimpered into his hand and made a point to dig your heels even deeper in his back. Joel had promised he’d be better about that.

“‘M’sorry,” he mumbled.

Another stab. Another whimper, only louder this time.

“Sorry, baby, I’m—” Joel stopped to fight back a groan of his own, before pressing his palm down with even more force, “—sorry, jus’ need ya real quiet right now, okay?”

You tried to nod, but the weight and stricture of his grip were as heavy as lead against your face. Add to that the soft, sawing motions of his cock going in and out of your cunt and the nudge of his oversized tip at your cervix, and it was all you could do to just lay there and take it. Joel knew this was brand new to you—he’d been your first not too long ago and the only partner since—so he eased back and lifted his hand when you gave it a tug.

Grey stubble was already licking at the corners of your mouth with Joel’s minuscule kisses of reassurance when you giggled and squeezed him tighter between your legs:

“I’m tryin’, Joel. Really, I am,” you whispered.

“I know, sweet pea,” he whispered back, “I know.”

He took the palm he’d used to stifle your moans and smoothed it over your cheek, coming to rest at one side so he could kiss you fully. Maybe a hand was too much.

He’d inculcate restraint some other way, and if it didn’t come easy, a few more fucks on the forest floor like this one would probably do the trick. Your mouth opened up for his tongue just like your cunt would open up for more of his cum and the rest of your body would surely follow suit, learning to control the noises of pleasure as needed.

“Good girl,” Joel murmured against your lips, feeling you clench around him and expel a breath rather than whine. He withdrew himself to the tip, then plunged back in, “Such a good, perfect girl for me, ain’t ya, sweetheart?”

At length, you yelped into his mouth. You couldn’t help it. Rather than reprimand you with words or smother your lips with his palm, though, Joel kept fucking you gently.

“‘S’okay, pretty girl, it’s okay. I know that feels good.”

His mouth was next to your ear now, praises audible to no one else but you. It added a whole new dimension to your pleasure; Joel could tell from the way your walls constricted around him and choked him, sucked him in. The feeling nearly elicited a groan from his chest, but of course, he had all the resolve of a seasoned professional. Decades and decades of practice had done that for him.

“Joel,” you mewled.

Your face was screwed up in a grimace, eyes likely to be brimming with tears any second now. Joel slowed his pace once more, felt a pang of guilt for how big he felt inside you—how those decades and decades of practice set you drastically apart from each other in experience—and this time, he didn’t try to muffle your whines. He just stroked the top of your cheek with one thumb, and with the other, snaked a path between your body and his.

Admittedly, Joel was still learning about yours. He wasn’t sure if the whimpers you’d made were born wholly of pleasure or just a sense of being stretched out and filled. Because you yourself were still learning to be vocal, Joel figured he’d give the latter a stab. He started thumbing your clit in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure.

It worked, and it didn’t.

Your walls parted easily beneath the quiet ministrations of his thumb, opening yourself more to Joel’s thrusts, but they also tore a scream out of your throat—the kind that was liable to stir the leaves on every tree and alert any clicker within a two-mile radius to your presence.

The kind of outcome Joel had been trying to prevent when he’d brought you on patrol with him in the first place. The kind of sound he was trying to fuck out of your body completely; teach you to keep quiet and still for when the two of you inevitably got bored during perimeter watch and rolled the sleeping bag out to fuck.

Joel tensed above you and cast a quick look around. Sure, he’d picked a decently safe spot, but then you—

“Joel, I—”

Without thinking, the man stopped and stuck the first thing he could possibly fit in your mouth: his thumb. Whatever you’d been trying to say to him was promptly lost in a hum against his knuckle, lips enveloping the thick, callused digit like some tangy-flavored lolly. Joel’s hips sank back into yours, slowly, and he felt the reverberations of another moan spill over his finger.

He swallowed and stared. That shouldn’t have been nearly as sexy as you’d just made it seem, especially when your life and his hung in such a precarious position.

Joel dragged his cock back out and happened to graze a sensitive, spongy ridge inside you, which made you moan again. You hollowed your cheeks and gritted your teeth a bit more against his thumb, gripping Joel’s forearm for support as he continued to fuck you.

And, had you stayed like that a moment longer, you probably would’ve seen a shiny string of drool start to pool and stretch and fall out from one side of his mouth. Instead, Joel switched hands and popped the thumb that had been toying with your clit into your mouth, eyes glazed over with desire as they drank in the sight of you sucking his thumb again. The tip was still soaked with your warmth and slipped easily past your parted lips.

Another sound bubbled up your throat when you got a taste—Joel had always been in the habit of kissing you after eating you out, so you were well-acquainted with the flavor, but never had he fed you your own arousal on his finger. This felt obscene, something more than just pornographic as those deep, brown, lust-addled irises remained glued to where your lips closed around him.

“Y’like that, huh?” he said, voice reduced to a whisper once more while you nipped and suckled at the skin.

You bobbed your head to indicate yes, opened your mouth to tell him softly that you liked it so much—loved the taste and grit of his finger on your tongue, in fact. You wanted to show him you could be vocal, too, when Joel’s frame rose over yours a little more and seemed to blanket it entirely. Like he wanted to shield you, in a way.

“Shhhh, shhh…keep suckin’ like that. Stay still, okay?” Joel murmured, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out that this was a test. He was nodding, rutting gently between your legs, wedging his thumb deeper inside the wet, velvety contours of your mouth and waiting for a look from you to say that you understood.

You weren’t sure if you did, but you nodded anyway. Joel’s thumb made a wonderful sort of makeshift gag as he continued to thrust inside of you, his body somehow lowering to get even closer to yours. When he’d gotten sufficiently near, he pressed a kiss to the side of your mouth—now stuffed with his thumb and leaking spit—and muttered something about how good you were for him, how nicely you fit around his cock. Then he tilted his hips and proceeded to pound you into the ground like an animal in heat. The only thing separating your ass from the patch of grass underneath it was a flimsy little blanket, and the only thing tethering you to earth, it seemed, was Joel’s cock. Your ankles locked behind his back, and his nose settled next to yours, breathing hard.

Even if he knew how to suppress his moans, the panting and strangled gasps were far beyond Joel’s control—as were the filthy, perverse words pouring out of his mouth.

“‘S’all mine, ain’t she, hon? Tell me this pussy’s mine.”

“Tell me she’s mine to fuck, stuff full’a cum, right here.”

And he gestured to the spot where your body stopped and his began, squelching noises punctuating each new thrust. Neither one of you minded the sound right now, especially when you knew where this was headed next.

Joel was grinning against your skin before he kissed it.

“She wants a baby, doesn’t she, honey? Wants me to put a baby in her and make that belly swell up pretty?”

You knew just as well as Joel that neither of you wanted children in a world like this—thoughts of breeding only occurred to you both when you were about to cum. Particularly when Joel’s thumb was slipping out of your mouth and his fingers were pinching either side of your face in a single grip, lips moving above yours. Making you meet his gaze as he squeezed your cheeks in a pout.

“You want my babies, baby?” Joel mumbled.

You felt a familiar twitch in his cock. You nodded.

Joel pinched harder and shook his head, unsatisfied.

“Say, ‘I want your babies, Joel.’”

“I want your babies, Joel.”

“Say, ‘I’ll be nice and quiet if you cum inside me.’”

“I’ll be nice and quiet if you cum inside me, please, Joel.”

Your voice was already hoarse from how low you had to whisper, how hard Joel’s broad and hefty stomach was pressing into your own, stealing the breath from your lungs and wreaking havoc on your brain as you struggled for air and imagined a world where your tummy was a little rounder. Plugged up with his cum one day and growing bigger with his child there inside you the next. The thought was dizzying in the abstract, enticing to the slightest degree in reality, and if you had to guess from the expression of the man currently sweating, grunting, and rutting into your body, you’d bet he felt the same.

It really was a shame you had to stay so quiet.

But, whether a clicker was five miles away or standing directly over his shoulder, Joel didn’t seem to care at all. Soft, silent reserve cast aside for the time being and hips slamming a bruising pace against your own, Joel seemed fine to let out sounds to show he was right about to cum. Grunts and whimpers were spilling left and right off his filthy, pretty tongue; his eyes were all but rolling back.

Truly, he couldn’t look more magnificent if he tried.

“Fuck, baby, I’m— I’m so close. Gonna fill you up.”

Featherlight clusters of soft grey hair were now darkened with sweat. They rested comfortably across his forehead. Under them, two thick brows furrowed in concentration.

“Gonna knock you up,” he added through gritted teeth.

That part was not a threat, but a promise.

You felt a tug and a pinch in your own stomach, signaling your oncoming release. You spread your legs wider for Joel, pressed a kiss to his jaw when he leaned in closer, made room for him to spill his load just how he wanted, and when it seemed he was a second from his peak—

A twig snapped nearby.

Both of you froze in place.