#and I say that with the utmost fondness

[boysbeloving]

BOC more like Butt on Camera

[bethrnoora]

me: going about my business in skyrim looking for the quest marker and enjoying the tundra scenery

cicero, ambling around behind my character:

[lale-txt]

your average Y/N on a casual Wednesday

[mechieonu]

i need them to try to kill each other and i need them to make the other laugh

[zannolin]

Never thought to ship anyone in Narnia fandom but how did I never realize the tragedy or the siblings leaving Narnia and leaving behind old loves and one of them was Peter and Caspian

[lemonandpie]

Armand seems like the kind of freak to fuck a bedpost

[sexybritishllama]

tbh of all the things in hello internet the 'hello, my name is [dan]' part is probably one of the least embarrassing parts. frankly if i were dan and that was what people decided to meme on me for i'd be relieved

[ahaaaoootblooded]

in that interview with cborle he mentions he sleeps or something after shows so whenever i see pictures of the cast of a production he's in and he isn't there i'm like 'oh the bitch is sleeping'

[chastiefoul]

how they'd react when you wanted to sleep on the couch... just because.

fluff. light-hearted ft. gojo, nanami, sukuna, suguru, toji, choso

satoru

“baby scooch over.” a whispered voice along with a gentle nudge on the shoulder woke you from your dozed off state. “hmm?” you mumbled out, blinking your terribly heavy lids open although to no avail they’re begging to keep themselves shut. satoru glanced at you with a frown on his eyes with a pillow held close to his body. “scooch over baby,” he pleaded, kneeling beside the couch you’re currently lying on.

“go back to bed toru,” you said softly, tugging your blanket closer. “but you’re not there,” he whined, intertwining his hand with yours as he attacked it with kisses, not letting you go back to sleep, especially if it’s without him. “i thought you said you’re going to be fine?” you asked, jogging the memory of him being all smug while saying you could do whatever you wanted. “that was not me, i would never say that,” he said promptly and goodness you didn’t know before someone’s lips could turned that much downward. you chuckled breathily, knowing this will happen sooner or later.

you scooted over on the big couch, leaving him the space he’d been begging for. you could have sworn you heard a squeal before you’re wrapped in satoru’s warm hold, his head resting snugly atop of yours. “no sleeping on here anymore. not without me,” he said into your hair, kissing it softly.

❀

nanami

“but why, love?” he asked, having a hard time comprehending your wish to sleep alone on the living room only because... you randomly wanted to? you chuckled looking at his bewildered face, an expression of someone who’s probably racking his brain upside down thinking that he’s done something wrong. “ken, i promise it’s just because i feel like it and no reason other than that.” you cupped his face, planting a soft kiss on his nose.

nanami looked a little relieved, albeit sullen, hesitant in asking whether he could invite himself in or you wanted a little time for yourself. and when it’s finally time to sleep it’s becoming more obvious that your lover wasn’t going to make it easy for you.

“need any more blanket honey?” he asked tapping the head of the couch as he stood there a tad nervous, knowing full well you got everything you needed since he insisted to be the one to prepare it. pillows, blanket, a hot drink, he’s got it all for you. “i’m perfect here, ken. you can go to bed,” you said with a reassuring smile, yet it did the opposite effect to the man.

“can i be here until you sleep, my love? it’s just that i feel like i wouldn’t be able to rest properly until i see you do the same.” he stroke your cheek softly with his thumb, and when you leaned into his touch he knew he’s gone for you. that there’s no way he could be asleep if he went back to the bedroom in that moment—unless you’re with him, of course. though, he didn’t say this, he just continued combing through your strands of hair, loving the peaceful expression on your face.

and unfortunately for the blond man, when it comes to these things his thoughts were written all over his face. you already caught on the fact that he wanted to lie down with you there yet his wish in prioritizing your wants refrained him from speaking his. you laughed a little, feeling a burst of fondness towards the tall man.

“on a second thought, can you sleep here with me ken?” he moved as quick as the sentence ended, already making his way under the blanket. he sneaked a hand around your waist, pressing your body closer against him. “i was kind of hoping you’d ask,” he mumbled, slightly embarrassed. you snuggled closer to his chest, feeling utmost comfort as he rubbed your back gently.

“i know.”

❀

sukuna

not even ten minutes in trying to sleep on the said couch, sukuna had already carried you back towards your shared bedroom.

“but-“

“no.”

he put you on the bed gently, then he draped a blanket over as he tucked you in. sukuna has that look of a man who’s determined in keeping you there, and you already knew it’s a fight you could not win thus, you turned for another plan instead: pouting.

even until he got beside you as he rested his big hand on your stomach, you refused to look at him, crossing your hands in front of your chest. he sighed, “give me one good reason i should let you sleep out there,” he said exasperatedly. “cause i want some me time?” you claimed. even you weren’t sure why you’re battling him so hard on this.

“then have it here in this bed with me. you’ll get all cold later and cling to me later anyways. i’m just speeding up the process.” he replied, already closing his eyes.

“what a strange way of saying you couldn’t sleep without me,” you said, with a grin on your face. the feeling of his thumb moving against your skin brought you immense comfort, your impulsive plan long forgotten.

“if you already knew that then quit making it harder for me, brat.”

❀

toji

he stared at you who’s already making yourself comfortable on the couch, amused. “looking cozy there,” he said with a grin, a face of someone who’s up to no good. “yeah, it’s actually not ba-“ the sentence was cut off was your own squeal, toji had picked you up as he took your lying down position and put you top of him.

“you could’ve just asked first!” you fumed, hitting his bicep—which did more to you and it did him, how could one even get their muscle to be as hard as that? he just chuckled in response, putting a hand around your waist. “sorry doll, got too excited,” he said lazily, already seemed all happy, like he had all he needed.

and he did, with you close to him resting your head on his chest, knowing that you loved counting his heartbeat. the man was truly content.

“we really should get a bigger couch,” you mumbled. we should get everything you wanted, toji thought. but it’d be a bit much to say in the moment so instead he just continued rubbing your sides until you dozed off, plunging into the dream land.

“sleep.”

❀

suguru

“whatcha got there baby?” he asked, an easy smile on his face. there’s really no day with you where you didn’t make him tilt his head questioningly. “’m going to sleep here tonight,” you said, fluffing the pillow before lying down on it comfortably.

“okay, where’s mine then?”

“your what?”

“my pillow. you didn’t bring mine along yours?”

“oh well i just thought you’d want to sleep in the bed anyway?” you replied, and suguru looked like you just insulted him deeply. the couch dipped, he then lied down beside you on the same pillow, making him extra close as he embraced you. “i sleep where you sleep baby, you make me this way. i can no longer rest when i don’t get to hold you close like this,” he said softly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

you have a big smile on your face as he said this, inhaling his familiar scent as you put your arms around him. “that better not be a complaint,” you said, cuddling closer to the man.

“never.” he kissed your temple.

❀

choso

it seriously look like it killed him when he had to walk away from the room, leaving you to sleep by yourself on the couch. his steps were excruciatingly slow, taking as much time as he could in case you changed your mind.

“cho?” you almost laughed looking at the way he perked up, a hopeful expression on his face. “can you turn off the light on your way?” and it almost felt too cruel the way the sparkle on his eyes dimmed, his shoulders beyond slumped. he then practically had to drag his own feet before letting out a small nod.

you chuckled, couldn’t keep up with the teasing anymore. “i’m kidding baby, do you wanna get in here?” you lifted up the blanket, patting the empty space next to you. it was the fastest you’ve ever seen him, as he’s beside you in no time.

he clinged to you tightly, like he’s making sure as much of his skin made contact with yours, a satisfied smile on his face. his hair tickled your neck nicely, as you traced the area below his eye with back of your finger.

“next time you want something just ask, cho.”

[lanternlightss]

today i have thought sm about my beloved oc’s mel and cerelia and i am feeling so completely normal about them (this is a lie i am so unwell)

[pinknipszz]

heian era sukuna x reader →

(a/n: loosely inspired by that one jessica rabbit scene; this is also borderline uraume/reader bc theyre so cute ugh)

people don’t understand how you can love the king of curses. his figure was grotesque—beyond repulsive—with four heavy hands that could snap your limbs into two if he so pleased. they can’t get past the four eyes either, but you found them charming. how could you not when he looked at you so sweetly? 

“where is my husband?” you inquire for the nth time, your voice as sweet as molasses as you tug at the ends of uraume’s sleeves. the humble servant doesn’t answer immediately; they know not to, and you don’t mind. while you wait, you watch the passerines tease the fish in the pond from your spot on the engawa.

uraume dips their elegant fude into the shallow inkstone beside you. calligraphy and whatnot. “lord sukuna is tending to matters in the southern provinces,” they answer with the same amount of patience they had a few minutes ago, and an hour before, and another before that. they must be used to it now.

“do you think he misses me?” comes a light brush against their pale hand. uraume exhales through their nose at your question, but not from exasperation. never that. “yes,” they say with utmost sincerity, like it’s gospel truth, before painting one long, flourishing stroke. “very much so.”

content, you cease your ministrations and fall on your back, giggling at the way your hair splays beneath your head. “he loves me,” you coo and cup your sun-kissed cheeks. “my husband loves me, and i love him too.” you think the edge of their lips twitch up into the barest hint of a smile.

but it vanishes before you can get a proper glimpse. sighing, uraume gives you a knowing look from the corner of their eye as they dip their fude back into the inkstone. you turn to lay on your side and watch how it absorbs the ink. “the servants, though adequate, have been quite bothersome lately.”

they finish the kanji in several swift strokes. 麗. rei for beauty. uraume continues. “there’s ill speak of your relationship with lord sukuna.” you count the passerines, letting the unspoken question hang in the air. shall i do something about it? it’s uraume’s turn to wait patiently for an answer, an ultimatum.

but you don’t give one so easily, preoccupied with an image that resurfaces in your mind: a group of servants—fresh off the cut and eager-eyed—gossiping by the water well. you don’t think they saw you, unless they were stupider than you thought, but they were loud enough to hear.

uraume is watching you, properly now, as you blow a stray strand of hair from your face. when they lean in to gently tuck it behind your ear, persimmons and plums permeate your senses. “do not bother with them. they talk because they do not understand why i love him,” you decide with finality.

“and why do you love him?” there’s a hint of fondness in their voice, reserved for you.

you look up through your delicate lashes, smiling cheekily. “he makes me laugh.”

(masterlist) | (a/n: would yall hate me if I wrote uraume/reader's pls be honest)

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Princess treatment with Ellie Williams: Headcannons

❀Ellie wants to treat you. It's always those soft, sensual kisses in which her plush lips will trace over your jaw down to your pulse, kissing at the fluttery feeling and quickly back up to your lips where she'll take her time with that shit. She wants to give you the world, not sloppy seconds.

❀"Ass or tits?" Thighs. Ellie loves thighs. She'll spend hours with her laid on your lap so she can occasionally leave soft pecks on your thighs. Small thighs, big thighs, stretch marks or none, she loves thighs. She's all about having a hand spread out on one of your thighs while she's driving, too.

❀Her love for you is something she is so proud of but also her biggest weakness. If you deny her, she loses her mind. Not actually denying her of course, because if you said she word she would keep her hands to herself in a heartbeat. But just denying her of what she wants so you can hear her soft, raspy voice pleading to touch you? Fuck, yeah.

❀Did I mention how much she loves your thighs? Not only that, but being between them. Ellie's a huge service top. She already knows she has power over you, but she wouldn't care if she didn't. Really, you're the one who has her wrapped around her slender fingers. Figuratively and literally. Tell that girl you want to go shopping and a credit card is in your hands. Hungry? Ellie will let you pick the restaurant, and she HAS to get you a bouquet of your favorite flowers every single time she picks you up. You're horny? She'll spend hours taking you apart from the seams, fingers pleasingly dipping into your warm hole, hours spent french-kissing your pussy lips, or if you're up for it her strap-on is always in her closet just for you.

❀She lives for your content sounds. She loves hearing the way you gasp when the plastic tip catches on your drenched hole, and she can't just shove it in, even if she's slightly tempted. She'll plunge into you like you're delicate and in need of the utmost care, and when you beg for more, she cannot bear denying you for even a second. She hates the idea of denying you orgasms or just edging overall. She also isn't too fond of overstimulation because if you seem like you're in any pain, even if it's the good type, she hates it. She has to be slow, sweet with you.

❀Not to say she won't be intense with you, though. As long as you beg, she'll be perfectly capable with slamming her hips into you, absolutely obliterating your train of thoughts. She wants to kiss you while she does it though, or at least tell you how fucking gorgeous you are between thrusts, and tell you how lucky she is to be inside you between her panting breaths.

❀Fuck, Ellie is just obsessed with you. She would spend the rest of her life keeping you happy just so she can plant her lips all over that sweet smile of yours, and it feels like she's loving a goddess.

A/N: I’m currently obsessed with service top Ellie/princess treatment so expect more of this version of her

[hoseoksluna]

BOOKWORMS | knj

pairing: boyfriend!namjoon x reader

genre: smut; fluff

word count: 4.4k

summary: namjoon thinks of you when he reads a smut scene in his book.

warnings: boyfriend namjoon!!!, kimi namijoon reading, mentions of sex (riding), oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, the importance of consent, teasing, raw sex, breeding kink <3, big dick namu!!, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, joonie's chain dangling in ur face, tummy bulge, creampie, bruising, hickeys, aftercare:(

note: it took blood, sweat and tears (hehe) to write this and i'm so happy it's finally here!! i loved writing about namjoon. he's my whole soul and the entirety of my heart and i have to write abt him again soon. please take your time reading this and enjoy urself! let me know what you think in the comments mwah (or tell me anonymously in my inbox) and as i always say please like and if u want to - reblog, but i won't pressure u baby. love love you!!

side note: if you want to jump straight to the smut, it's right under the asterisks &lt;;3

You revel, you truly do, in seeing your boyfriend in such a serene state of mind. 

Nose buried in a book, Namjoon pays no mind to the surroundings fleeting by him with each flutter of his eyelashes. It goes unnoticed by him, strangely so, how you tidy up the apartment you share. How you feed the two cats that chose you and him to be their human parents. How you fondle their soft ears. How you bend over the furniture to whisper ‘pspsps’ at them when they need a moment away from you just to see their round eyes look up at you stupidly. Namjoon usually observes these moments; this utmost natural behavior of yours. He draws strength from the homeliness of it all with each and every swell of his lungs. Needs it to survive. That is until he gets a hold of that one papery portal and sits comfortably on the couch, one ankle propped over the knee. Then, he ceases to exist in this world. 

You’re happy for him. Over time, you’ve come to find that you have a certain fondness for the way he remains stoic. Because you always know what kind of book he’s reading, a smile blossoms on its own over the line of your lips whenever your eye catches the sculpture-like look on his face. It’s like even if he let himself hold his breath, his consciousness would waver back to the earth and the wretched awareness that he’s here, among mortals and the unfair capitalist system aftermath, would stream in his bloodstream, poisoning his experience. It takes the leisure out of it and makes the bed for misery instead. He doesn’t like it. Hates it, in fact. It’s a necessity that he focuses, as he embarks on the journey, because he does it for you.

Namjoon confides in his feelings and his literature with you almost on a daily basis. On the same couch, with the same cats snoring faintly, their small bodies spilling over the perimeter of your tangled legs. Doesn’t matter if it’s his thigh or the curve of your hip. The animals always find a warm crook to doze in, eavesdropping in, with their curious little ears, on the conversations you’re having. Though you reckon they like the meat of his thigh the best. You do, too. Can’t really blame them. The same serenity that intimately knows the person of Namjoon perceives the person of you when he prompts you to rest your head on his lap while he brushes his book-kissed fingers through the silky waterfall of your hair. Thoroughly explains the intricacies of the plot he’s invested in to you. Describes the characters as if they’re real people he’s become acquainted with. They are real to you as you listen. As you ask additional questions and gaze up at his eyes just to catch that one body of a shooting star fiery hot in the glossiness of his eyes. As you wonder, openly, what will happen to them.

“I’ll tell you when they tell me.” He sunk the promise onto the smooth skin of your forehead with the pucker of his lips.

It’s how you discovered, in all seriousness, that the plaster of his stoicism breaks during these literary moments.

Various colors of emotion tug and twist his features, the bare kind. The unrestrained kind. You know it’s a relief for him when the dam bursts open, soaking you in the beauty of humanness one only finds in literature these days. You can’t help but fall in love with him all over again when his eyebrows furrow. When his orbs nearly burn a hole in the ceiling when he’s trying to think of the right word that will ultimately help him convey the unfolding of the storyline. When he gives up and weaves English into his sentences, relying on his hands to say what his overstimulated brain fails to do. 

He reads to pass knowledge to you. The serenity whispered it into the chambers of your heart, a puff of hot breath in winter’s cold. It soothingly rubbed his shoulders when Namjoon told you there used to be a time when he couldn’t stand the sight of his books lining up the walls of his apartment. Wanted to burn it down and watch as the evidence of his melancholy dies in front of him. Because that’s what most of his book collection consisted of back then. The innermost shadowy faces of his pain. Loneliness. Sadness. Despair from life, from it not being enough for him, from it not saving a spot there for him–not once throughout the course of his life. That’s why he reads different kinds of books now. Ones that do not reflect his survival before you.

The reader has to get wiser, ruffled by life in order to gain more, gain what they need from those once deeply loved pages. It’s what the serenity believes. It’s what you believe and hope for Namjoon. That one day, somehow by the healing of the love you give him, he will look back and pick a souvenir from that moonless country of pain. Put it up somewhere between the spines of his new cluttered collection. Look at it from time to time and sense that it’s telling him something. Something that will fill the stitched-up cracks in his heart with sunlight. Something that he will pass over to you. It’s your love language after all. Namjoon reads because you read. It’s his own personal healing thing. 

You two are just a pair of two bookworms. Unfit for the world outside. Fit for the land you two created. Whose soil you take care of together.

***

Dinner is almost ready by the time you feel his fingertips gripping your hips. You hum, acknowledging his presence. Glad for the homely heat that radiates off of his body and seeps into your bones as you stir the risotto you decided to make on the stove. Coldness had been embracing you all day while he read so you’re overjoyed that he ripped it away from you.

Namjoon places a kiss on your temple and you sigh in relief. You might be too dependent on him, but so is he. He wouldn’t be nuzzling his face in your hair, squeezing your waist, peppering kisses on your tender skin if he wasn’t. It’s the perfect balance. And it’s not that you’re not able to be away from each other. The principle of looking forward to one another is what makes it so sweet, so endurable for the pair of you. Of the coming back and coming into contact at the end of the day. It’s natural. Simple. Human.

“Missed me?” Namjoon husks into your ear. 

You smirk and turn off the stove, turning around to face him. “Terribly.”

His body is clad in a black T-shirt that fits his broad figure well and a pair of baggy sweats of the same color, having discarded the warm crewneck he was wearing earlier somewhere in the universe of his book. A long silver chain twinkles in the middle of his chest in the yellow light. You caress it with your fingers and leave your palm there, on the hardness of his pecs. 

“I finished the book,” he says and you blink up at him. You’re not surprised at all. “Couldn’t put it down.”

Sleepy wrinkles have left their mark on his face from the cozy position he laid in for too long on the couch. His short sunlit hair, grown healthily from his military service, is tousled in all directions and you smooth it down for him. How did God bless you with such a beautiful man is something you’ll wonder about for the rest of your life. 

“What happened to Theo in the end?” you ask, genuinely curious about whether one of the characters you’ve grown attached to is okay after all the shit the author put him through. 

Namjoon was reading a coming-of-age book about a boy named Theo. A panorama of his childhood and adolescent life, you’ve heard all about it. Namjoon cared a lot about this story, cared a lot about the protagonist’s emotions and reactions to the reappearing storms. What made him stick with it, despite the nearly triggering themes, is the fact that Theo never let go of his optimism no matter what. It was incredibly inspiring for Namjoon. Something new. Something that he never thought could be possible. You’re proud of him for daring to read a book so reminiscent of his past.

“You’re not gonna believe it,” Namjoon says, a blush creeping along his cheeks.

You raise one of your eyebrows in question. 

“Theo got laid,” Namjoon reveals, laughing softly. “I’m so happy for him.”

You gasp and burst into giggles. “What?”

“He got some!” 

Your laughter rises in volume. “He lost his virginity and that’s the end?”

“It was a big moment for him. A triumph of some kind. Like he shed his old skin and left that broken life behind. It was amazing.” Namjoon’s eyes glint with tiny shooting stars and you melt. He always finds poetic meanings in the varieties of the character arcs. You think you just fell in love with him all over again. 

“That’s really beautiful,” you admit. It reminds you of something. Of something quite personal. “My first time with you changed my life as well.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows curl in tenderness. Dragon eyes widen and round in fervent emotion. He squeezes his arms around you, enfolding you in a hug. Kisses you warmly. Strokes your hair down your back. Your own eyes pool with little tears with the intimate knowledge that you chose the right person to unfold your raw femininity with. No one, no man other than him could have created such a safe for that to happen.

“Tell you what,” Namjoon says a bit hoarsely. “I saw us in it.”

You hum, encouraging him to continue. Crave for more of his thoughts and confidential findings. Its fire spreading through your body, as each word of his registers in your brain, always makes you feel phenomenally alive. You’re not timid to avow that it’s your addiction. Shame doesn’t know you.

“Elena was on top and he was watching her. In awe of her,” he murmurs, caressing your cheek with the tip of his thumb. “Made me think of our last time. A life changing experience of mine as well.”

You welcome the fire and suspire with sudden desire, eyes lidding. Your heart begins to thump. Namjoon studies your reaction. 

“You remember well, don’t you?” He nudges his nose against yours. “I was in awe of you just the same.” 

It’s impossible not to remember. The memory consumes your mind every waking hour. Gets you needy in ways you haven’t felt before. Namjoon had you sat on his lap among the fluffiness of your innumerable pillows and plushies. Had you do all the work as he focused on the sleekness of your freshly moisturized calves, its coconut aroma interfused with the scent of sex and the euphony of your bounces, ragged breaths and broken moans making his head all fucked up. He was loud himself, more loud than you ever recalled him being. Reading your body at the mercy of the pleasure his hard length was giving you with his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. Not once did he take his eyes off of you, not once did he help you. Just gripped your calves. Your thighs. Your tits all in his face. Only when you came hard, out of your own delightful merit, did his eyes roll back. You left his hips glazed with the evidence of your well-deserved orgasm, a porcelain statue made glossy.

A little later, during your pillow talk, he told you he’d found the idea of you using him while getting yourself off extremely hot. Made him more hard than he’d been in a while. Begged you to be even more selfish next time, adding an indistinct, ‘well, of course, if you want’ to the end of his sentence because he’s Namjoon.

“I do,” you breathe. “Touched myself to it this morning while you were still asleep.”

Namjoon groans. “God.” He kisses the side of your neck. Gets close to your ear. “You wanna do it again, hm? Wanna fuck me?” 

You might burst. His closeness, his heat, his need to ask for your consent turns you unstable. You’re choked up on your words, mind too fuzzy to say something. Turned on. Fucked up.

“You wanna show me how you touched yourself?” Namjoon continues, but you shake your head against the side of his face. 

You had touched yourself in the shower. Couldn’t say no to the impulse. Sharing that part of you for his eyes to see isn’t something you’re quite ready for. To you, it’s still something that’s yours. Something private. A courage you have yet to pluck up. You’re afraid to give him this last part of your femininity.

“Not today,” you whisper, planting a kiss on his neck. Feel him shiver. “I’m sorry. Do you mind?”

Withdrawing from your neck, Namjoon looks you dead in the eye, brows twisted in stern seriousness. “Don’t ever apologize for something like that again. Hear me when I say that.”

You squeeze his shoulder, the corners of your mouth lowering in a pout. Thankfulness grips your heart and suddenly it’s hard to breathe. 

“You know this is why we do this right?” he asks you. “Why I ask you these questions? I need to always know what you’re comfortable with so I don’t make a mistake.”

You nod. “Yes, Namjoon, I know and I’m so thankful.”

“Good. I’ll never push you to do anything you don’t want. Don’t forget that, okay?”

“Okay, I won’t.” 

“That’s my girl. 

You grab him by the back of his neck and engulf him in a hug. Luckiest girl in the world? That you are. The fact that you’re his is still something you can’t wrap your head around.

“We can stop. We don’t even have to do anything tonight—”

“No, Namjoon.” You withdraw. “Look.” Wrapping your hand around his wrist, you slip his hand beneath the confines of your panties. 

His breath shakes when he reaches your soaked folds. He traces your hole with his middle finger and your hips follow his movement, the pleasure so faint but so good that you flutter your eyes closed.

“Fuck, baby.” 

“Yeah, I need you. Need more,” you breathe out. “Can’t leave me like this, can you?”

Namjoon hums. “No, I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of this pussy.” 

He kisses you. Massages his tongue against yours. You buck your hips into his hand and Namjoon hears your body language. Takes his fingers up and rubs your swollen clit from side to side, quickening his pace as he swallows your moans down his throat. Gets angry at your tight leggings hindering him in giving you more, so he gets on his knees and swiftly pulls them down along with your underwear. 

“Sit on the counter.”

You comply right away. Namjoon takes your feet in his hands and gently removes your slippers, removing your garments fully so they don’t pool around your ankles. He needs your legs spread and he needs them spread wide for what he’s about to do to you. 

Torso long enough to reach you, he remains on his knees. Runs his hands up the back of your thighs to guide you into the position he wants you in. “Lock your arms around the back of your knees. Don’t let go.”

You do as he says, biting your lips in nervousness. Intertwine your hands together. Prepare yourself to die. 

Namjoon studies your dewy pussy, index and middle finger mimicking the letter V as he slides them up and down your folds, squeezing just right to hear you mewling. Your knees being so close together makes her look a lot more pillowy and you hear Namjoon breathe hard, absolutely hypnotized by the beauty of your flesh. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping down my hand.” He withdraws his fingers to show you how your slick trickles down the lines on his palm, changing the course of his life once and for all. 

Your clit throbs, breath matching his. “Please, Namjoon.”

He curses inaudibly. Brings his fingers back down to your folds, squeezes your lips and your clit together. Hisses at the sweet whimpery sounds spilling out of your mouth. Presses tighter so you whine needily for him. Takes you into his mouth when he accomplished what he wanted, tonguing your clit in slow agonizing circles that has you buckling your hips again. Puts his hands on your thighs to keep you down, flicking fast to absolutely abuse the fuck of you. Dragon eyes zeroing on yours, he gives you the hypnosis that your pussy did to him as he sucks on your bundle of nerves. You can’t even scream. Can’t breathe. The pleasure overwhelms you wholly and straps you down. There’s nothing you can do but take it. 

You come hard on his tongue. Namjoon laps it all up gladly. And when he’s finished, he stands up and slips those two digits that ruined you into your hole. Doesn’t move them. Lets you adjust instead.

“One more,” he mutters. “Please.”

You nod.

“Use your words or we’re stopping.”

You groan and close your eyes, your thighs visibly shaking in your iron grip from your orgasm. “Yes, Namjoon, one more. I’ll come for you.”

Namjoon places a wet kiss on your thigh to praise you, and to thank you as well. Begins to move his fingers promptly, but can’t seem to get enough of your skin. Proceeds to make it shiny with his liquid love, sucking it to bruise you. To remember this moment a little more fondly in the morning. 

Creating a trail up to the back of your knee, his digits pick up the speed. The pool of slick you left in his palm sloshes with each rapid thrust of his hand. He looks back at you and sees you lost in the pleasure, eyes lidded and unfocused. “Look at me.” 

You do, weakly.

“Just a little bit more and I’ll fuck you, all right?”

You’re about to nod, but decide against it. “Mhm, yes, Namjoon, fuck.” 

He smiles down at you. Your relief inches closer. “I’m so proud of you for speaking up today. For letting me know.” 

You could cry right now. Because of his fingers making you feel so good. Because of his kindness making you feel so safe. It all closes in on you and you whimper. 

Abruptly, Namjoon unravels your grip on your knees and kisses you, tongue slipping in. You come all over his hand, without meaning to, and he doesn’t stop. On the contrary, Namjoon fucks you harder. Takes all four of his fingers and strums your clit, prolonging your orgasm, swallowing down all of your moans. 

“Come on.”

Namjoon helps you down. If it weren’t for his arms holding you steady, you would’ve collapsed on the floor. Your legs shake, muscles taut and tense. 

“I got you.”

Sat on the floor with his joggers and boxers pulled beneath his crotch, he pulls you down on his lap. A wisp of precum adorns his tip and you wrap your hand around it, collecting it with your thumb. Watch him as you swirl your tongue around the digit before sucking on it, letting go with an obscene pop. Namjoon licks his lips, hands clasping your hips hard enough to bruise you. Twitches in your other hand.

“Don’t fucking do that to me, baby.” 

You laugh almost inaudibly, drunk on him. “Are you gonna come in me?” 

He replaces your hand, holding his length at the base for you to sink down. And you do, gasping softly at his thickness. Your dewiness helps it to be a smooth ride.

“Gonna pump you full. Leave you dripping,” he promises, voice restrained. “Gonna fuck you so good you’ll remember it for the rest of your life.” 

One thing about Namjoon, he’s a man of his word. 

Seated perfectly on him, he waits for you to adjust. Alleviates the tremble of your thighs with his palms, massaging the muscles. Takes off your shirt and flings it across the kitchen. Gropes your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers. You start to grind on him, throwing your head back. He latches onto your nipple and flicks the nub with his tongue. You lose your mind, leaking down his balls. 

“Ready?” he asks against the fullness of your breast. 

“Yeah, fuck me, Joon.” 

He thrusts into you once to watch you fall apart. Locks your arms behind your back. Grabs your forearms for his use.

“You forgot something.”

He thrusts again, harder this time.

“What?” you breathe out, meekly. 

“What word do you use when you want to ask for something?”

He watches you as you work it out in your brain. Fucks into you three more times, equally hard, to disrupt you. 

“Fuck, sorry. Please, Joon, please.”

He grinds, hips rotating in circles. 

“Uh-huh, that’s right. Now use it.” 

Namjoon envelops your tit in his mouth, swirling his tongue around your areola. Sucking. Keeping up the agonizing pace. Groaning when you clench down on him. 

“Please, hmph, fuck me.”

Your breast bounces back when he lets go, biting his lip. “Knew you could do it,” he coos. “Smart fucking girl.” 

He begins to fuck you properly. Thrusting up and down as he holds you steady, keeping his eyes locked on yours. As he takes control of your squirming, leaving his fingerprints on your forearms and waist. You’re breathless, whimpering, on the verge of sobbing. So turned on and needy for him that the emotions brim in you, threatening to spill over. 

“Aren’t you?” Namjoon continues. “Aren’t you a smart girl?” 

You nod, knowing exactly what he wants to hear. “I’m a smart girl.” 

He spanks your ass to reward you and you arch your back. Tits all in his face. He’s mesmerized watching them bounce and nearly slap against each other, nubs hard and pointed. He licks them up, flicking them with his tongue. You round your shoulders a little in pleasure, his strong grip not letting you fold like your body wants. 

“That’s right. So smart and good for me. So fucking wet. Making me lose my mind.”

Namjoon kisses you. Inhales you. Withdraws only for a mere second before he’s back, tongue in, toying with you the way you like it. You feel your relief calling your name.

“Namjoon, I’m so fucking close. I’m so close. I’m gonna come,” you whine, forehead pressed against his, face twisted in ecstasy.

Namjoon stops out of the blue and slips out of you. You whine loudly, but before you know it, he carries you to the couch and lays you down on it. Takes off all of his clothes until only his silver chain remains, shining bright in the dim light. He spreads your legs, one limb over the backrest, the other around his thigh. Grips his length and tugs at it a few times, the feeling of your wetness making him slippery pulling moan after moan out of him. 

He enters you again and resumes his fast pace, holding your calf in his hand. “Smart girls come on the couch, not on the floor like whores. You got that?” 

You nod almost too eagerly, fucked out beyond measure. “Yes, Joon, please make me come. Please, come here.” 

Namjoon leans towards you, propping his elbows by your head, cradling you. “I’m here. I’m gonna make you come.” 

From this angle, he fucks you more deeply than before, his tip reaching your cervix. You roll your eyes back, but bring them right back to his face when his chain taps you on the chin. You find it so hot that you grind your hips against his, meeting his thrusts, encouraging him to fuck you harder. The chain meets you in erratic staccatos and you scratch your nails down his bare back, the sword-like pendant hurting you in a way that you like. 

Namjoon notices. Slows down his movements. Pinches the chain from the back of his neck. Prompts you to lift your head and slides it over, letting it rest in the middle of your breasts. Then fucks you back into the couch.  

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips. “Gonna breed you. Hm. You want that, don’t you?”

The cord tightens in your lower belly. The bulge of where his tip is hitting you nudges him in his stomach and he looks down. Curses. 

“Look.” 

You follow his eyes and moan. “Namjoon, Namjoon, please come in me. I’m so close. Wanna feel you. Please.” 

He grunts, nodding his head. Licks his fingertips and presses them against your clit. Pleasures you in fast and swift jerks until you’re knocking your head back. Only when he grabs your jaw and kisses you does the cord snap, his lips being your ultimate undoing. 

Namjoon presses you down with his body, keeps you calm and collected. Kisses you all through it, your jaw, your neck, your cheeks. Then his thrusts turn sloppy and his cock twitches in you. He gives you one final hard thrusts and fills you up, groaning against your mouth.

You’re smoothing down the sting of your scratches on his back when he pulls out of you and his cum drips out of you. You wish you could see what he sees, hand on his mouth, careful to catch his drool. You push out more for him and he curses, fondling your pussy with his thumb before he pumps it back in. 

He comes back to you and kisses you. Fixes your hair. Caresses your cheek. Helps you stand on your feet as he leads you into the shower. Washes every inch of your body, heedful of the bruises he left on the back of your thigh. Lathers your hair in your favorite shampoo. Wraps you in a towel. Wanted to moisturize your body, but you told him off, knowing both of you would get horny again. You let him brush your hair, though, placing a comb in his hand. He’s gentle as he undoes the knots, then he blowdries your hair. 

And you do the same for him.

Once the pillow touches your cheeks, you’re both out like a light. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[trappolia]

SUNDAY IS FOR REST ── sunday x halovian!reader, 918

"do be careful, my dove," he murmurs as you straighten out the light feathers behind his ear.

"you haven't preened yourself in a while, have you?" your voice is soft, a hint of chiding to it that makes his heart flutter — there's a groggy rasp to your tone as well, having just stirred from your own dreams. sunday dares not look back at you, for there is a sweet domesticity to be found in the impression of rumpled bedsheets against your cheek and the heavy-lidded eyelids that make it known that you would love nothing more than to go back to sleep — proper sleep.

a hum resonates in sunday's chest as he allows himself to be fully immersed in the moment; early morning, messy hair and feathers, the sleepy press of lip against lip. his head tilts to the side, allowing greater access for you to tidy the feathers in question.

"you are correct. there's no need for me to do such preening in the dreamscape, though i prefer it when you offer your generous help," he replies, a mix of contentment and fondness pervading his voice.

"i'll help you only if you stay still," you grumble. your hands, which were straightening out his feathers, are now hovering just above them as sunday tries very hard not to shift in place again.

he cannot help it, truly. it is not just the factor that sunday is unused to, well, anyone touching something as intimate as his halovian wings, but also the fact that the slightest brush of your skin against his is a sensation like no other.

not that he would ever tell you, of course.

sunday nods, a silent affirmation that he will try his best to remain still, although a trace of a smile dances upon his lips. as you resume tending to his wings, each brush of your fingers brings a newfound appreciation for the sensation of your touch. he can feel the slight tingle, akin to electricity, every time your skin makes contact with his wings.

"my apologies," he murmurs, a chuckle slipping past his lips — as if he is not willing his chest to rise and fall rhythmically, having to manually breathe under your intimate ministrations. "i shall endeavour my utmost to be an inanimate statue. your wish is my command."

"haha," you say dryly.

in spite of your tone, sunday cannot help but chuckle at your jest. a cruel man he is, to find amusement in your grumpiness in the early morn. your nimble fingers gently untangle his feathers, and the sensation is a mix of tingles and warmth that spread across his wings. the act of having someone, especially someone he holds in such high esteem, tend to these parts of him that are reserved for only the most intimate moments is endearing, to say the least.

as you work, your movements deliberate and precise, your lover muses softly, "only you could make tending to feathers feel like a luxury."

"it is a luxury when you are not the one doing it yourself," you huff, hands moving around with practiced ease: smoothing a feather here, tugging a broken one out there.

sunday's chest rumbles with barely suppressed laughter at your huff of annoyance, but he remains true to his word and does all he can to keep still. his skin feels electrified with each brush of your touch, even more potent than before, and he wonders idly if it's because he's aware of how much effort you're taking in taking care of him. he is always the one caring and fussing, rather than being cared for and fussed over. it is strange, for the tables to be turnt. strange, had it been anyone else but you.

"perhaps," he manages to say between bouts of laughter, reaching back to catch one of your wrists and presses a chaste kiss upon it. "we could make a habit of this."

"is it truly proper of the head of the oak family to make a habit of keeping himself less than pristine?" you murmur.

how embarrassing; the passing thought occurs to sunday at your words. indeed, it is unbecoming for him, who stands at a position of such power and authority, to be so unkempt, so careless around you. it feels… freeing.

and so his response is a gentle tug upon your wrist, guiding your arms to wrap around his shoulders and link with his fingers. with a smile full of affection and a touch of teasing, he gently brushes his thumb over the tender flesh between your thumb and forefinger.

"i am simply indulging in the pleasure of being cared for," he answers in that same gentle rumble. "and if that means i am a tad bit less than pristine as a result, so be it."

"i suppose so," you hum, and from where sunday sits in between your legs, he feels you lean forward, hooking your chin over his shoulder. your own wings tickle his cheek, like a lover's kiss in the early morning. "preen me next?"

a low rumble resonates somewhere deep in his chest at the feeling of your breath against his neck. the closeness you've allowed between you is not something sunday takes lightly, and he relishes in it with every beat of his heart.

"with pleasure," he answers, unable to help the upwards tug of his lips as he squeezes your palms.

"let me take care of you, my dove — as you do to me."

© trappolia 2024

[ladybyakuya]

| SIDE EFFECTS + SAKUSA KIYOOMI.

+cw. — fem!reader, established relationship, ( domestic ) fluff, love & comfort, slight angst, mature language, atsumu being atsumu, mention of hinata and bokuto. beta-read by my beloved ray.

+wc. — 1.2k 

+syn.—  Sakusa has gotten used to you pretty quick ever since he started living with you but now that he has known the bliss, he does not want to go back to living alone.

+notes. — this is for flufftober ‘fond moments’ collab event for a prompt: quality time hosted by @spookuna. mdni cuz im eighteen plus blog.| redirect to blog navigation. & tagging @tetzoro for poking my pineal glad with a question that became a inspo for this <3

For almost a month, Kiyoomi has had an odd extension of routine that starts after his matches. It starts with going straight home ( to you ), and eating the dishes you made for him which was suggested by a dietitian of course! and then wait at least one hour before hitting the shower, and that too, a cold one since right after he is done drying himself he jumps into bed just to hold you amongst his chest like a hot bag; this . . .this particular moment is what he has been looking forward to for months and now it has finally become a part of his life, and if things do not go south then it might just last for the rest of his life. Just barely thinking of it gets him wide awake. If life was a sleepless dream, then he would not mind sleeping forever at the end of it with you.

Today, however, everything turned upside down. He came home a little late, just a little; ate silently without talking much. Generally, he turns into a yapper right when he sees you. He has so much to talk about yet even with all that bubbling enthusiasm he still does not forget to ask, “Babe, how was your day?”, “Aw, babe that’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.”, “What? Need me to scare the manager? Because I can.” he says while flexing his muscles wearing nothing but a towel around his torso but you know he won’t do that since he has the confidence that you can handle anything all by yourself. After all, you scared the shit out of Miya when you first met him and he will not accept but, indeed, Miya is not easily scared, especially by girls. However, this evening his responses were full of— “umm.” and “umhm” — nods and sneaking glances. The Kiyoomi that is reserved for the world has come home to you today. 

And that one-hour gap, between his dinner and shower, which is generally filled with listening to you as you roam around the house and work and he follows you like a puppy is filled with frequent calls, messages, and screen time today. It sure makes you worry if not disappointed or angry. It has been a month since you two started living together, so this one hour has always been filled with making this small apartment a place that you both could call “home.” Things were slowly falling into place, turning this place into a home. You were happy, and Kiyoomi? He was the happiest man in the world. 

However, crest-fallen.

Sakusa came out of the bathroom freshly showered when you were folding his clothes. Now that he can see your back properly without any thoughts lingering in his mind you look tired, sad, and perhaps. . . a little annoyed. Maybe it is not a good time to tell you the news after all but what else he can do, he does not have much time left either. He tip-toes his way towards you, slowly.

“C’mon out with it, omi. What’s up?” You say and turn towards him with a bunch of his clothes in your hand only to face a half-naked Sakusa, a pink towel wrapped around his torso, his hands in the air branching out in a form of embrace. You chuckle as you walk off to his closet but his stance remains intact just his head following you; 

his jaw drops as he enquires with utmost curiosity, “How do you always know?” which earns him just an endearing glance from you. You keep the stack of his clothes on the shelf, one by one as he finally says what has been bothering him. “I have to move out. . .to Osaka.” You had to pause before keeping the last t-shirt on the stack of clothes. Your hand is still on the edge of the closet wooden frame since you know the moment you close it— is the moment you have to face such a warped reality where you would be alone in this newly bought apartment, with no omi to wait for, cook for, or take care of. . . 

As if he could read your thoughts he mumbles sharply. “Babe, turn around.” He must be still in that pink towel. The air conditioner is on but it seems that he does not mind the cold today. You slowly turn around closing the cupboard with your hands at the back biting your lower lip in anticipation thinking if Kiyoomi had to tell you about moving out to you, then he must have tried all the possibilities of either staying here with you or taking you with him yet none of them must have worked because if it had, you two would not be standing so apart like two curtains drawn apart. 

“Oh dear God,” Kiyoomi groans as he clutches your wrist pulling you into himself. He makes you sit on the edge of the bed while he sits on the floor, legs folded keeping his head on your lap as he draws lazy patterns on the side of your thighs with both hands, simultaneously. “I never thought I’d fall in love even though I’ve planned it in my notebook ever since I was a kid.” He turns his head up, “Now that my love is here I want to keep it, safe, forever.” The water from his hair has left spots on your long tee. You run your nails through his scalp and he lets out a low even groan saying, “So, I took a week off to spend time with you and of course to get the packing done.” He has to rake his eyes open since the exhaustion blended with being sleepy along with your tender touch is too tempting not to give in.

“What?” You ask, surprised. “You did it for me?”

“Yeah. ‘course. Why wouldn’t I?”

A black pup tip-toes its way into the room and both of you watch it walk till it halts right at your feet wagging its tail, tongue hanging out of its mouth. Both of you look at each other, and then a familiar voice turns up, “We’re here love birds.” Sakusa rolls his eyes before turning around and grabbing your bathrobe to wrap himself up probably because now his senses are back enough to let him know how chill the temperature of the room is. You put your palms over your cheeks, it has become warm again, as you look at the pup. 

Just when you crouched down to pat the pup, Atsumu, Hinata, and Bokuto followed into your shared bedroom. 

“So, what’re you gonna name him?” Miya asks with a big grin plastering on his face.

“Kiyo!”

“Heyyyyy.” Naturally, Sakusa protests. Bokuto and Hinata share a look holding back their laughter. 

“Well, I call you Omi when I need something from you, or when I’m angry with you and I call you Mr. sakusa when we—you struggle to put your thoughts out in words so Atsumu interjects. 

“ —fuck.” He is still grinning. What’s he so happy about?

“Yeah. that.” you point at him while keeping your eyes still on Kiyoomi. “So, I don’t see a problem calling him Kiyo.”

[luveline]

jade my heart I’m really feeling Peter parker tonight in this chilis. maybe just Pete listening to r go on about something she likes? Like a book or a tv show and he’s just listening but also so obsessed with her and thinks she’s adorable? I love u! 🫶🏻

ily ty for requesting <3 fem

“It’s a prequel, you know?” 

Peter feels fondness for you pretty much every second of the day, but the way you’re asking without looking at him, and the way you’re laying across his lap so unbothered, he finds himself grinning like a mad man. “I did not know that,” he says. 

You nod up and down with a severe sort of look about you, as though this is of the utmost importance. If Peter doesn’t get on the same page as you soon, he’s not gonna make it. “I can’t believe you’ve never seen the first trilogy. Like, I like you so much, but where the hell have you been?” 

“Where have I been?” he wonders. 

“Anyways, that’s not the point, sorry. They’re complicated movies. You’d like them, though. Next time I’ll bring my DVD’s and we can watch them, if you want to, you’ll really like them, or you’ll really like Natalie Portman, at least. She’s beautiful. And her character is so… complicated, I guess, she’s doomed from the beginning of the narrative and she’s the catalyst for so much but she’s also just… sorry, I’m being totally boring.” 

“Says who?” 

Doesn’t take much more than that to get you rolling again, you want to tell him that badly, “I don’t wanna spoil it anymore because I really think you’ll love them if you watch them, but you’re gonna need to watch the first trilogy to get the emotional impact, and you’ll love them, don’t worry.” 

“I’ll love them,” he agrees, attempting to lean down for a kiss. 

“Wait, is this a shut me up kiss?” you whisper. 

Peter shakes his head as he kisses you, serving for a wobbly but soft press of your lips to his. “Never. Tell me everything about it.” 

You talk until you’re hoarse, literally hoarse, and Peter has to make you a cup of water. His cheeks are hurting from smiling at you. You’ve never looked this cute, not once, not even when he took you to Coney Island and you screamed the house down on all the rides. 

“I think we better go and get those DVDs,” he says. 

“It’s dark out,” you say. 

“We’ll swing.” 

“Isn’t that against your code of ethics?” You sip your drink, pointing at him. “We’ll hear someone who needs help on the way and you’ll drop my extended editions to save them.” 

“I won’t drop anything,” he says. “Come on! Come on, if you’re this excited just talking about it I wanna see how pretty you are when we’re actually watching the movies.” 

You press your smile into a line. “You’re not just humouring me?” 

“I could listen to you talk for hours, baby, but you sound like you did the second time we got off of The Cyclone.” 

You do a spinning, meandering dance into his arms. “If you insist.” 

Your feigned reluctance is adorable. He grabs you in both hands for another misaligned kiss.