#and now he can tease her with it a little bit

[sttoru]

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. husband!kento nanami x wife!reader. fluff, girl dad! kento, happy family bcs thats what he deserves. happy birthday ken <3

kento steps out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam billowing out behind him. he’s wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung sweatpants, his chiseled chest still glistening with beads of moisture. his damp blond hair is slicked back except for a few rebellious strands that fall across his forehead.

he makes his way back to the living room, where the soft giggles and laughter is coming from. the blonde pauses in the doorway and takes in the heartwarming sight before him.

his wife—you—and daughter are sprawled out on the couch. you’re wearing matching white face masks that are plastered across your skin. what tops it off are the cucumber slices covering your eyes.

you did tell him earlier that you’ll have your own little ‘spa time’ with your daughter. seeing that this is what you meant, kento lets out a small and low chuckle.

“how adorable,” he hums under his breath. he stalks towards you, his bare feet sinking into the plush carpet beneath the couch. your daughter is the first to sense his presence and her little body stills from her squirming fit.

she bolts upright and the cucumber slices fly off her eyes. the little girl immediately giggles at the sight of her father, which has kento’s lips curl up into a warm smile as well.

“daddy!” she shrieks, pointing a chubby finger at him. “you’re not supposed to be here! it’s girls only!”

kento raises an eyebrow at his daughter’s playful words. it’s absolutely adorable how she’s basically a mini version of you. the way her bottom lip juts out in a pout and her nose scrunches up when she laughs— it’s so like you. it truly warms the blonde’s heart.

the sweet sight of his wife and daughter sharing this moment between them, being all smiles and giggles, is exactly what his dreams are made of.

“is that so?” kento reaches out and boops his daughter on the nose, ignoring her indignant squirming, “well, i think your mommy can make an exception for me. just this once.”

you snicker from your place on the couch, the mask that has dried on your face now cracking a little. you love hearing the playful banter between your husband and daughter—love hearing how that carbon copy of you is all giddy as she chats with her dad.

“mommy!” your daughter bounces next to you on the couch and shakes your arm a bit, already forgetting about the ‘relaxation’ part of your self care routine. she’s mostly focused on the person who ‘disturbed’ your little alone time. “daddy’s interrupting our spa time!”

you muffle another laugh at the dramatic way she shrieks in your ear. like it’s the end of the world. “oh no! we can’t have that now can we?” you gasp just as dramatically, lifting your daughter into your arms, the cucumber slices on your eyes rolling off with the motion.

your daughter nods with a big grin on her cherubic face as she’s held in your lap. “nope! ‘s only for mommy and me! girls time!” she says proudly, tiny hands resting on her middle.

“bad daddy,” she adds with a teasing giggle and sticks her tongue out at kento.

you laugh at her words before mischievously agreeing. “indeed, bad daddy,” you nod and stick your tongue out at kento as well.

kento raises an eyebrow at the way you indulge the child’s antics. a low, amused chuckle rumbles in his chest as he comes to sit on the edge of the couch. he reaches out and ruffles your daughter’s hair before gently pinching her cheeks together.

“really? bad daddy, huh?” his other hand comes up to tickle her sides, his eyes softening as he hears that addicting laughter again. what tops it off is seeing you smiling from ear to ear at your little girl’s joy as well.

kento lets out a sigh he doesn’t even know was needed. this family is exactly what he dreamt of. exactly what he needed.

“come here—both of you,” the blond man comments, voice low but filled with mirth. he leans down and covers both your bodies with his, peppering the chubby skin of your daughter’s arms with kisses before doing the same to your neck.

your daughter giggles and squeals as kento pretends to eat you both up, nibbling on your skin, his hair and stubble tickling your limbs. she’s already forgotten all about the fact that he crashed your little girl’s party.

you squirm and let yourself enjoy the moment as well. this moment of your family just… being a family. nothing else matters.

[likeanangell]

Thinking about….overprotective girldad!quinn

SYN. When your three year old daughter, Melody, is confused and teary after some girls make fun of her curly hair.

WARNINGS. teasing/bullying

AN. For my curly haired queens! (also peep Demi’s hair :)

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹🧁♡

“they said it’s ugly.”

her voice was so small you almost didn’t hear it.

Quinn’s hands stilled behind her head, gentle fingers frozen in middle of the braid.

you looked up from across the bathroom, mascara wand in hand.

“what, baby?”

melody sat on the counter in her little leotard, pale pink with satin ribbon crisscrossed over her tiny chest. she was all glossy eyes and flushed cheeks, fingers picking nervously at the tulle. her curls were damp from the morning spritz, one braid done, the other barely started.

she had been acting weird about going to ballet practice. You could only guess she couldn’t handle it anymore, and spilled

“my hair,” she said, blinking fast. “some girls said it’s ugly”

your heart dropped. Quinn’s face didn’t move, but you saw the muscle in his jaw twitch.

“what girls?” he asked quietly.

melody shrugged. “just some in the class. they said it looks messy. and one girl said it’s so hard to look at.”

you blinked hard.

your hand lowered.

Quinn crouched slightly, brushing one of her golden spirals off her cheek. “did they say anything else?”

she nodded, eyes filling. “they said uhm … they said their mommies do their hair the right way. and that i should ask mommy to make mine flat.”

melody shifted on the counter, voice thick and shaky. “but I like it…”

Quinn’s fingers clenched at his sides.

he didn’t say anything for a second. just looked at her, looked at you. your eyes were already wet. she didn’t even realize what was happening … not really. she was just repeating things. things she’d heard. things she felt.

“baby,” you said softly, gently rubbing her back. “your hair is beautiful. so beautiful.”

she sniffled. “i know you think that.”

“and you know who else does?” Quinn asked, clearing his throat. “Your uncle Lukey, he has the same hair as you”

melody nodded slowly, “He said I look like a ballerina.”

“you are a ballerina,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “and ballerinas can have any kind of hair they want.”

you felt your throat burn as you watched him finish her braid while she stared at him through the mirror. he was quieter now. a little too quiet.

when melody hopped down from the counter to go grab her coat and shoes, Quinn’s jaw locked again.

“we’re talking to her teacher.” he said low.

you bit your lip. “Qui—”

“no.” he glanced at you. “i don’t care if they’re kids. i don’t care if it’s a ‘phase’ or if they ‘don’t know better.’ someone needs to tell them. i’ll do it nicely. but i’m not letting her think there’s something wrong with her.”

you nodded, wiping your cheeks.

“we could switch studios,” you said softly. “i don’t want her somewhere that makes her like that.”

“she loves it there,” he said, voice cracking just slightly. “she loves the music and the teachers. she’s good there.”

you blinked hard, watching melody in the mirror, twirling in her tutu, her curls bouncing with each spin.

“okay,” you said, voice quiet.

and that afternoon, after class, you knelt beside melody while Quinn talked to her teacher, Mrs Greta.

She said that her and the other teachers had no idea that this was going on. They would be having chats with the girls and their parents about the situation.

in the car on the way home, with her water bottle in her lap and her bunny clutched in one hand, melody whispered

“i love you mommy, and daddy.”

Quinn reached back and squeezed her ankle gently.

“We love you more, baby”

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. Hope y’all enjoyed…and for the record I wouldn’t call this “overprotective” but I needed a title

[brokenbough]

"No- no, Simon!" You whimper, squirming away from his hands, your own clawing at the floor.

"Cmon, you can take it." He grumbles, his voice low and command clear.

"Please- oh fuck. Simon, Simon, Simon." You recite like a prayer, squirming again as he adds pressure. You whimper and moan, fighting-- anything to get him to stop.

"Stop squirming, you need it. Take it." He commands roughly again, pinning you firmer into the wooden floorboards.

"Alright, what the fuck are you guys doing?" Soap and Gaz burst in through the door, looking down at the two of you.

There you are on your stomach, pinned under Simon, his hands on your back, his front against your butt. But... clothed.

"What type of freak shit are yall doing?" Gaz asks, watching you squirm under Simon again. He doesn't let you move, pressing down on your lower back once more, growling something quietly at you.

You cry out, whimpering again and clinging to nothing. "Simon, Simon please!" You whine again.

"Take it Doll. Take it." He says, rubbing that same spot.

You groan loudly, starting to fight him again.

"Alright dude, what the hell!" Soap questions, pushing Simon off of you.

You crawl away quickly, standing with a groan.

"What?" Simon grumbles out, pushing Soap back a bit, watching Kyle hug you tightly.

"You can't just pin down girls ya like and- and do whatever the hell that was!" Soap growls out.

Simon tilts his head, looking to you and back to Soap. "What the fuck are you on MacTavish?" Simon asks again, pushing past the sergeant to you.

"You- whatever you were doing to her." Soap continues, getting between you two again.

"Move." He says to his sergeant harshly, leaving no room for argument. But Soap doesn't, standing his ground and protecting you from his perverted lieutenant.

"I'm not gonna ask again." Simon says, glowering down at Soap. Kyle is behind both of them, you behind him as they stand bodyguard.

Finally free from Simon's hands, you quickly dart out of the door, hearing the growl of Simon behind you.

"Fuck off Lt.!" You yell back, turning corners and jumping over furniture and people as Simon is stuck behind his two sergeants. You get as far away as you can.

--

"Back. away." You demand, ready to run again as Soap and Gaz corner you.

"Nah ah little lady." Gaz says, a lazy smile on his face.

--

"You guys fucking suck!" You yell, squirming in Soap's hold, Gaz walking behind him for backup in case you tried to run again.

They quickly deliver you back to your lieutenant, dropping you at his very feet.

"Don't run bunny, won't and never will end well for you." Simon says, kneeling next to you. "On your stomach." He growls.

You huff, turning over and glaring at the sergeants who brought you here. "Dead to me. All of you." You growl before it fades into a soft moan of pleasure and pain as Simon settles back onto your butt, rubbing from your lower back and up.

"There ya go." He croons, adding more pressure.

"When I--fuck, fuck."

"Right there?" He teases.

"No, fuck you. And when I get the chance, I'm gonna break every single one of your stupid little fing-- FUCK!" You grip nothing again, clawing for one of the sergeants-- something, anything.

"Soap. You had the most to say, hold her hand." Simon commands, rubbing circles now.

Soap is hesitant, and even more so at your sadistic smile as he slowly moves closer. You quickly latch onto him when he gets close enough, pulling him down with you.

Soap sits there with you, grunting in pain every time your nails dig into his pale skin.

Simon continues to massage you, hitting all the right parts that scream in agony under his hands. Your body begs for more, but your mouth knows better than to give Ghost a big head.

"Gonna kill you Simon." You say before he makes you whine and whimper as if it's some joke.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"Nice-- ngh-- and slow." You relay.

"Like this?" He asks, a slow, long drag of his knuckles down your back.

You don't answer, can't, as you fall into a fit of more moans. You squeeze Soap, your salvation between the pain and pleasure.

"Jesus lass, keep gripping me like that, you're gonna leave a mark." Soap grumbles, hissing when you break skin. Again.

"Shut the fuck up!" You growl, whining again almost to the point of tears.

"Gonna do your shoulders after." Simon says as if it's a threat. And it is.

"Please no, please, Simon. Simon, Simon, please, hear me out."

"Mmm..." He mulls, looking down at your turned head. You, no longer holding onto Soap for dear life.

"Tomorow. Please, just do it tomorrow." You plead, eyes misty with unshed tears of pain-- pleasure?

"That's the thing Doll, I don't really feel like chasing tomorrow. I don't feel like chasing at all."

"I'll- I'll come to you. Please. Just tommorow."

"Why should I believe you when you just tried to run 40 minutes ago?"

"Cmon Lt., you know I'm not a liar."

"No, but you're a runner." He counters.

"F-fine. End of day. I'll come to you after dinner."

"I don't know if that works for me Doll."

"Please." You beg again.

--

"Dead to me. All of you." You say at dinner, glaring at Simon, Johnny, and Kyle.

"What is she talking about?" Price asks, slightly amused.

"She won't go to medical and I'm tired of hearing her complain about being sore." Ghost says nonchalantly.

"She doesn't like Lt's massages." Soap chimes in. "Got a couple of scars from 'er." He continues, showing Price his arm. The thin crescents now just a slight pink from where you dug your nails into him.

"Wouldn't have happened if you didn't force me to go to him." You snap back.

"Yeah, yeah."

"What's this about you not going to medical?" Of course that's the part he focuses on.

"Well, I--"

"It's handled Cap'n. Don't gotta worry about 'er." Ghost finally chimes in, staring directly at you.

You flick him your finger before going back to your food. You had to mentally prepare for his heavy, deft... strong... veiny hands to massage out the kinks in your shoulder.

Oh fuck.

--

"Sit." Simon says, pointing to his office chair.

"We can't do tomorrow?" You ask weakly, already moving to the chair.

"No. We're doing legs tomorrow."

"What--"

"Shh." He says, his heavy hands on your shoulders.

You sighed, moaning before he even got to rubbing.

"Eager?" He teases.

"N-- oh~" you moan, leaning back into his chair.

"There ya go. Relax." He encourages kindly, genuinely happy to help. He really was tired of you complaining about being sore and didn't need you stiff on a mission. He'd work through all your... kinks if it meant a better mission... and maybe listening to you moan his name, begging for a release he wouldn't give.

Maybe.

Bold of you to assume he does the small things out of the goodness of his heart without any benefit for himself.

Naive even.

------------

If you can't tell, I'm in pain. My left shoulder specifically

[sereia4skz]

hihi! could i please ask for a daddy!innie? with age regressor reader? where, bc he’s always been treated as the youngest and the baby, isn’t quite sure how to help when reader regresses, but it’s super fluffy as she helps him figure it out? and maybe at the end he does something for her on his own and it’s super cute? love your works!!! <3

drabble | little lessons

pairing: caregiver!jeongin x little!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: age regression (non-sexual), use of caregiver/daddy titles, pacifier use, plushies, soft baby talk, insecure!Jeongin

word count:

masterlist: A-Side (texts) | B-Side (written)

Jeongin’s knee bounces under the table, thumb swiping back and forth across the rim of his mug. He hasn’t taken a sip of his tea in five minutes.

You’re curled up on the couch nearby, wrapped in your favorite blanket, pink pacifier bobbing gently with each breath. You’ve been in headspace since this morning, soft, quiet, and clingy, even more than usual. Your favorite plushie, the one he won for you at that awful street fair claw machine, is tucked under your chin like a shield.

He knows what this is. You’ve explained it before. Age regression. It’s something safe for you, something warm. It helps with the bad days. He wants to be good at this. He wants to be your safe place. But… he’s never been anyone’s caretaker before.

He’s always been the baby, the one who gets cooed at and teased and protected. He’s not used to this.

You peek over at him, big doe eyes blinking slow and sleepy behind your stuffy. You shift under the blanket like you’re unsure. Your hand reaches out but doesn’t quite stretch far enough.

“Daddy?”

It’s barely a whisper, just a puff of air around your paci, but Jeongin hears it like a song. His heart squeezes. He sets down his mug and crosses the room to kneel in front of you.

“Hi, baby,” he says softly. “You okay?”

You nod but wrinkle your nose. “You… far,” you mumble.

“I’m sorry, sweet pea. Wanna cuddle now?”

You nod again, a bit faster. He smiles and lifts you into his arms like you weigh nothing. He sits down on the couch and lets you curl into his lap, your legs over his and your cheek against his chest. His hand rubs slow circles on your back, grounding you. Your plushie ends up squished between you both like a tiny soft barrier.

It’s quiet for a while. Then, your fingers tug gently at his hoodie sleeve.

“Daddy’s... not smilin’,” you mumble. “Did I do s’methin’ wrong?”

His heart drops.

“No, no, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he promises, kissing the top of your head. “I’m just thinkin’. That’s all.”

You frown, pacifier falling from your lips to rest on your chest. “Thinkin’ makes Daddy sad?”

Jeongin chuckles softly. “Sometimes.”

He waits a beat. Then he sighs, finally brave enough to say it.

“I just… I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

You blink up at him. “Huh?”

“I wanna take care of you,” he says gently. “Be a good Daddy. But I’ve never… done this before. I don’t know what you need sometimes, and I get scared I’ll mess it up.”

Your little hands grab his hoodie tighter. “But you’re already a good Daddy…”

Jeongin leans back, touched, but also confused. “Yeah?”

You nod, cheeks puffing up in that little pouty way you do when you’re being very serious. “You hold me lots. You talk nice. You always make me snacks and put my plushie in the dryer when she gets wet. And you tell me you love me all the time.”

A smile finally cracks across his face. “That’s… a lot, huh?”

“S’a lot,” you confirm with a decisive nod.

Jeongin kisses your forehead. “Okay. Thank you, baby. That makes me feel a lot better.”

You beam.

And then you light up with another idea.

“Wanna teach Daddy?”

He blinks. “Teach me… how to help you?”

You nod shyly. “Can show you what I like. So you won’t be scared no more.”

Jeongin lets out a breathless little laugh. “Okay. Deal.”

“Pinkie promise?”

He grins, holds out his pinkie, and lets you wrap your tiny finger around his.

From there, the day turns into a lesson.

You show him your regression box, the one he’s seen you keep tucked in the closet. You pull out your coloring book and favorite markers, soft jammies, the pink sippy cup with the sparkly lid. He takes mental notes the whole time, even going so far as to pull out his phone and write a few things down.

“Does Daddy have a favorite color marker?” you ask as you both settle onto the floor to color.

“Hm… I think I like this blue one,” he says, holding it up. “It reminds me of the sky when you’re having a good day.”

You stare at him with wide eyes. Then you get up and crawl across the floor just to smoosh a kiss to his cheek.

He blushes like a cherry.

After snack time (apple slices and a little chocolate milk), you tug his hand and guide him to the bedroom. You hand him your bunny onesie with the floppy ears and whisper, “This one, please.”

He gets the hint.

“You want Daddy to help dress you?”

You nod, going a little quiet and shy again.

His voice lowers to a soft murmur. “Okay, sweet pea. Arms up.”

He’s gentle, moving slow as he helps you into the onesie, zipping it up and smoothing the fabric over your tummy. You peek up at him, eyes fluttering, clearly content. When he brushes your hair out of your face, you lean into his palm like a kitten.

He carries you back to the couch and lays you in his lap, humming quietly while you suck on your paci and hug your bunny close. You start to drift off, fingers curled around his sleeve.

“Love you, Daddy,” you mumble sleepily.

His heart just about bursts.

“I love you too, baby girl.”

That night, after you’ve gone to bed, small and soft and wrapped in your blankets, Jeongin sits on the couch for a long time, scrolling through parenting blogs and regression-safe caregiver tips. He even messages Chan for advice (though he plays it off like it’s for a “friend”).

He learns the difference between little space and being childish. He finds a list of bedtime routines that could help. He adds a reminder to his calendar: pick up more bubble bath & dino nuggies.

The next morning, you’re still feeling little when you wake up, but something’s different.

You blink sleepily at your bedroom door.

There’s a small pink sticky note taped to it. You crawl out of bed and pad closer to read it.

⋆｡°✩

Welcome to Little Day! Daddy made a plan for you! 💕

Morning Snuggles (with me!) Breakfast: Strawberry pancakes & juice Activity: Coloring time (Daddy found a new book!) Movie: Your pick (I’ll make popcorn!) Bathtime: Bubbles & toys ready Cuddles & bottle Bedtime story (you can pick 2!)

⋆｡°✩

Your eyes go wide.

Downstairs, Jeongin waits in the kitchen, already in an apron, flipping pink-tinged pancakes on the stove.

When you peek in shyly, he turns around and grins, soft and proud.

“Good morning, my baby,” he says. “Did you see the surprise?”

You nod slowly, fox plush in your arms.

He crouches to your height and opens his arms. “Come here.”

You run into his hug like it’s instinct.

“Daddy made your whole day special,” he murmurs into your hair. “All by himself. Just for you.”

“You’re the best,” you whisper, voice high and sleepy and full of wonder.

He squeezes you gently. “Nah. I’ve got the best little girl. I’m just finally catching up.”

taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway @stellasays45 @angel-writes-skz-here @m-325 @0sunshinecryptid0 @beal-o @hug4helios @oksullen @rileylovescats @dreamyfelixx @yxna-bliss @turtledove824 @enhacolor @skzz0213 @hannahlue @purplelady85 @velvetmoonlght @inishij @bangchanspineapple @straykids4lifeee @peskybirdysya @gnabsss

taglist pt2: @zayn-210 @wolfhallows4 @katsukis1wife @sammhisphere @bangchanspineapple

[formulafanfics13]

can you write oscar x model!reader, in which she is the complete opposite of him, life of the party and very out going, and at a club he sees lando flirting with her and gets very possessive.

Mine When It Matters - OP81 🔥

masterlist

Summary: Oscar reluctantly joins a night out at a loud club, only to watch you flirt with Lando right in front of him. Jealousy turns into possessiveness. After a sharp confrontation, he drags you into the bathroom and reminds you who you belong to — with his mouth, his hands, and every brutal thrust. The night ends with his hand in yours, grip unshakable, tension simmering. You adore him like this: quiet, controlled, just a little bit feral.

Warnings: Jealousy, possessive behavior, public flirtation, aggressive dirty talk, club bathroom sex, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, spanking, rough sex, slight dom/sub vibes, praise/degradation mix, mildly feral Oscar Piastri, territorial energy, Lando being a little shit. Ends soft(ish) but still hot.

Oscar had no business being in this club. The music was too loud, the lights too harsh, the drinks watered down and overpriced. But he’d said yes because everyone was going. Because Lando had dragged him out. Because you had texted him with a “come out, be fun, I promise not to leave your side.”

You, who practically thrived in places like this. You, who walked into any room like the main character and didn’t wait for permission to be adored.

You, who were currently pressed up against the bar, laughing in Lando’s face like he’d just said the funniest thing in the world, head thrown back, fingers brushing his arm, hips swaying to the beat of whatever bass-heavy track was shaking the floor.

Oscar watched from across the room, drink untouched in his hand. And he burned. Not because you were doing anything wrong. Not because he didn’t trust you. But because Lando fucking knew.

He knew you were Oscar’s. He knew you were dating. He knew how long Oscar had quietly worshipped you before working up the nerve to ask you out. He knew. And still.

There he was. Grinning like a smug little shit. Leaning in closer. Whispering something in your ear. You giggled. Oscar saw red.

You noticed the moment he started walking over. He moved like someone at war. Calm. Controlled. But with a heat in his eyes that made your thighs clench before he’d even touched you.

Lando stepped back slightly, registering the shift. “Hey, mate-”

“She’s with me.” Oscar didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t need to. It was low. Firm. Enough to make your pulse jump.

Lando blinked. “I know that-”

“Then maybe back the fuck off.”

Your mouth dropped open. You didn’t know whether to laugh or drag him into the nearest dark corner and wreck him.

Lando raised his hands. “Alright, alright. Jesus.”

Oscar didn’t even look at him again. He looked at you. “You think this is funny?” he murmured.

You bit your lip. “A little.”

“You like teasing me like this?”

You shrugged. “You like when I get attention.”

“No.” He stepped in closer. Voice a little rougher now. “I like when you get attention from me.”

Your breath caught. “Oscar-”

“Bathroom. Now.”

You barely made it inside before he slammed the door behind you. The music thumped faintly through the walls. The light was a flickering mess. The air smelled like vodka and sex and regret. And none of it mattered.

Because Oscar was already lifting you onto the counter, mouth crashing into yours, hands sliding under your dress like he didn’t care who heard.

“Flirting with him right in front of me,” he muttered between kisses. “You wanted to see me like this.”

You gasped. “Maybe.”

He growled, actually fucking growled, and yanked your panties down in one sharp motion.

“You’re mine,” he said, sinking to his knees like it was a promise.

You choked on a moan as his tongue met your cunt. Messy. Rough. Desperate.

He ate you out like it was personal. Like every swipe of his tongue was a claim, a brand, a fucking signature. You came fast. Clutching his curls, legs trembling, crying out his name like it was the only word left in your vocabulary. He stood up. Kissed you. Let you taste yourself on his lips.

“You’re not walking out there until you remember who you belong to.”

And then he fucked you. Hard. Deep. Possessive. Bent over the sink, hand in your hair, hips snapping into yours like the whole club could burn down and he wouldn’t stop. “You think anyone else can make you feel like this?”

You shook your head, eyes rolling.

“Say it.”

“No one,” you moaned. “No one but you.”

He kissed your neck. Slowed down. Let the filth melt into something softer.

You whined. He chuckled. “I’ve got you, party girl.”

He didn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the night. Even when Lando raised an eyebrow across the dance floor. Even when you winked at Max, made Charles laugh, air-kissed some fashion exec who looked like he wanted to eat you alive.

Oscar just held you close. The quiet boy with the loudest grip. You liked him like this. Jealous. Controlled. Just a little feral. And the second you leaned in and whispered, “You know I’m only yours, right?”

He just smirked. “I know. But I don’t mind reminding you.”

[moondustbaby]

hiiii i hope your week is going great!!! i have a request for bsf!rafe for letter O - overstimulation if you’re still taking them :)

so i’m thinking like he and reader have been at it for a while and she’s finally reaching her limit but he’s just being so nice and sweet about and telling her how good she’s been. maybe even a little bit of the aftercare in there?

don’t get me wrong i love a little mean!rafe but i wanna see him being so vulnerably sweet to reader

no pressure and feel free to change anything you’d like!!!

-🌞

O – Overstimulation

bsf!Rafe x bsf!Reader

mdni 18+

You’re trembling.

Face-down in his sheets, body sticky and slick and raw from how many times he’s made you come tonight. Your thighs ache. Your eyes sting. And still—still—he’s buried inside you, slow and deep, one hand holding your hip, the other stroking your spine in soft, soothing lines.

“You okay, baby?” he murmurs against your shoulder, voice warm and breathy and almost hoarse from everything he’s said to you tonight. “Need me to stop?”

You shake your head, barely able to form words. “I—I don’t know. I think I can take it, I just… I’m so close again, Rafe.”

He groans—soft, guttural, like he’s the one falling apart.

“You’re fuckin’ incredible,” he whispers, kissing the curve of your neck. “Can’t believe you’re still lettin’ me touch you. You’re doin’ so good, baby. So good for me.”

Your lip wobbles. A little whimper escapes.

“I got you,” he says immediately, voice low and gentle. “I got you, I got you, you’re okay.”

He slows down. Barely rocks into you now—just enough to keep you full, keep you grounded. His fingers trace your jaw, tilt your face toward his.

“Lemme see you,” he says, and when your teary eyes meet his, it’s like the wind’s been knocked out of him.

“Jesus,” he breathes. “You look so pretty when you’re wrecked.”

You let out a half-sob, half-laugh, and he smiles, brushing your hair back before kissing you slow—slow enough it makes your chest ache.

“You tell me when it’s too much, okay? But I wanna give you one more, baby. Just one more.”

You nod. Because he’s so sweet. Because you trust him. Because even when your body’s screaming, your heart is safe with him.

He kisses your temple. “That’s my girl.”

And when he moves again, it’s not rough or greedy—it’s worship. He touches you like you’re something fragile, like he wants to memorize every sound you make, every flutter of your lashes, every broken gasp.

When you come again, it’s quiet. Gentle. Almost reverent.

And when it’s over, he doesn’t pull away—just wraps his arms around you and rolls you onto your side, still inside you, holding you close while your breathing slows.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder. “I’m right here.”

And you are. You’re so okay.

Because it’s him.

a/n: omg i love this sweeter, softer version of overstimulation—where he’s not teasing or mean, just so gentle and proud and in awe of you 🥺 thank you sm for the request angel!! this man would absolutely ruin you slow and then hold you for twenty minutes whispering “i got you, i got you” while kissing your shoulder 🫠

♥️ lani

nsfw a-z

[kanekisfavoritegf]

PERFECT LOVER:The Life of Nanami Kento the 35 Year Old Virgin

MINORS & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT YOU WILL GET BLOCKED

SYNOPSIS: Kento Nanami, a 35-year-old introvert with a tendency to avoid social interactions, has made a conscious decision to steer clear of romantic entanglements. However, everything changes when he meets a new colleague at his birthday party, (Satoru's Idea). From the moment they meet, he is mesmerized, finding himself increasingly unable to resist her magnetic presence. Like taking a bite of forbidden fruit, he becomes ensnared by the allure, delving into a realm of infatuation and finding himself unable to break free. As he delves deeper into this newfound connection, Nanami begins to realize that he craves more than just a fleeting experience and yearns for more than just a fleeting taste of what she embodies.

Table of Contents

Author's Note 1.: HI HI was in the hospital and was finally able to edit last night but decided that I might as well post today for my husbands birthday!!!

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

CHAPTER EIGHT:

“You are not subtle at all.” Yuki whispered into your ear, catching you at your blatant ogling of Kento. He stood at the bar with Suguru, waiting to collect drinks while Satoru was somewhere in the crowd dancing.

“I haven’t the faintest of clues to what you are talking about.” You said back, tucking loose hair behind your ear, trying your best to ignore the heat that inched around your face.

“You are so fucking Kento,” Yuki borderline screamed, “You deflowed the kid.”

“What! No, I didn’t,” You spoke with such apparent defensiveness; it made Yuki smile harder.

“Well, why are you eye fucking him?”

“I could be eye fucking Suguru for all you know.”

Yuki snorted, “Well, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Eye fucking Suguru?” Yuki rolled her eyes at you.

“Who is eye fucking me?” Suguru appeared, sliding into the booth in which you and Yuki sat. On your side, leaving an annoyed Nanami standing at the edge of the table, waiting for Yuki to slide out so he could sit beside the wall, his favourite place whenever he was dragged out to clubs.

It was a very last-minute thing; if you had had it your way, you would have dragged Kento back home with you and teased him all night for his antics at work, but unfortunately, as soon as the two ended up leaving the office, Satoru called crying on the phone about needing a pick me up, to which Yuki had agreed to go with for you.

Kento had no real reason to be going; he wasn’t expected to show up. This wasn’t his kind of thing, and yet, he followed you to the club door and then inside. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if you were the reason he had decided to show up.

Now he sat across from you, knees brushing against yours every time you moved slightly. Each brief touch had you wetter by the second.

“No one is eye fucking you,” Yuki said, rolling her eyes at him, “Except the bartender, who can’t seem to keep her hands to herself.”

“Careful, Yuki, you sound jealous,” Your teasing only earned you a sharp glare from the other woman, 

“Do you really want to be talking right now?” Yuki’s comment earned you an eyebrow raise from Kento, who sipped his drink slowly. His leg slowly raked up and down yours, causing a quiet gasp to leave you.

“Ugh, there is no space for me,” Satoru pouted, sweaty but somehow still attractive, 

“Where the hell have you been?” Thankfully, Yuki turned her attention to Gojo, 

“Dancing, obviously,” Gojo rolled his eyes, trying to squeeze in next to Suguru, but it just wasn’t happening.

“Oi, stop.” Geto pushed Satoru back out, “I’ll crush Y/N.”

“Like you’d be against that.” Satoru drunkenly retorted, causing Kento to scowl and Suguru to freeze up for half a beat. 

“Don’t worry, guys,” You said, getting to your feet, “I want a shot. So you can take my spot.”

Once you were free from the booth, you took one glance at the table, more so at Nanami, who sat watching you right back.

It suddenly felt ten times hotter, even with your work blouse unbuttoned a little bit and your stockings off. You felt as though you couldn’t breathe.

Shots. That’s exactly what you needed.

“Two- No; Three shots of vodka, please.” You sighed, trying to ignore the rush of blood you felt throbbing at your pussy. You could feel his stare on you; it was electrifying. 

He seemed to be angry. Jealous even. You wanted to laugh in his face; you didn’t even have to do anything, and yet he was turning greener and greener by the second.

After downing your shots and trying your best not to cough them back up, you felt a little more relaxed, on your way to drunk even.

“You are one pretty little thing.” A man with a scar on his mouth leaned over your shoulder, “Wanna dance?” He looked dangerous, in a one-time thing hookup way, where he disappears in the middle of the night to go do shady things.

Still, you didn’t feel any excitement at the idea of going home with him. It was only when you caught sight of Kento’s intense glare that you felt a rush of adrenaline.

You took the scared man’s hand and let him take you deeper and deeper onto the club’s floor just to fuck with Kento.

You danced and lost yourself in the music, pretending it was Kento who had a tight grip only on our waist and not some stranger. The fantasy was killed, though, at the sound of his voice,

“Wanna go out for a smoke?” He asked, kissing your neck. Kento was nowhere to be seen, not even in the booth where Satoru and Geto sat, chatting up some girls. Yuki, was also gone, probably running off home to see her new boyfriend.

Sighing at the probability of Kento’s disappearance, you agreed, grabbing your coat and waving goodbye to your coworkers. You let the stranger take you outside. You had no intention of going home with the guy, just a cigarette before a long train home, where you would sit sexually frustrated and annoyed by the Nanami Kento. Him and his stupidly sexy stare.

You took two or three drags of Toji’s cigarette before he tossed it to the side and pushed you against the club’s wall, his lips on yours. At first, you kissed back, accepting his touch and trying to let yourself slip into the rhythm of him, but with every kiss and bite, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to sweeter, softer places, like the feeling of Kento’s lips against your skin. 

Toji’s hands ran over, and your body tried to let it happen, but like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit, it felt wrong. Yet you didn’t push him away; if anything, you pulled him closer. Toji was good at the whole kissing thing; not once did your teeth accidentally collide, or his hand fall into an awkward position. It was all so easy, too easy, and you couldn’t help but miss the small fumbles of Kento. 

“Huh?” Toji asked,

Shit. You had just whimpered out Kento’s name, loudly at that.

“Uh.” Not quite knowing what to say, some part of you was grateful to see Nanami walking towards you, a smirk painted on his face.

The other side of you was completely mortified at the fact that you had been caught saying his name with another man pressed against you.

“I am Kento.” That’s all he said before pulling you from under Toji and into his car.

If Toji had anything to say, he kept it to himself, turning back to the club and winking at a group of girls before approaching, sights set on someone new.

Glad to know the using was a mutual act.

No words needed to be spoken, and you already knew that he was driving to his house with no plans to drop you off.

***

Once you were passed his apartment door he began unbuttoning his shit slowly. Stopping right at the last button he looked up at you, eyes full of lust, anger, jealousy, and something eles you couldn't quite figure out just yet.

"Where to you want me?" He asked lowly.

Preview:

"Come on, you can beg better than that."

TAG LIST: @marikuchanxo @sukunasstomachtongue @getosgirlfailure @allysunny @tojicvmslut @typefeisu @aiyaaayei @villsophie @sillysillygoofygoose @jinleft @rivversin @haikioo @destinyblue-jjk @ramonathinks @actuallysaiyan @actuallysaiyan @melisuh123 @ureuphoriasworld @jaeminsmilk @rileyglas @bonnieblue0606 @alwaysfreakingout @lovelyiida @ayesayman @dreamgirl5300 @swoozleee @belle-oftheball34 @zeunys @yuzu-ku @aomi04 @y0urpr3ttyp0ck3tpussy @zombriesworld @hazzelle-kento @miinhooo @lucilles-witchery @areyouflying @cosmolight @doingthisjusttoreadnanamihcs @xxluzah @erensblackgirlfriend @cloudy-yyy @bxnfire @xxluzah @erensblackgirlfriend @mcr-ista @isapsps @trocaderoisyummy @iamharryswife @oidloid @howmanytimesamigoingtotrythis @1shyshy1sana @meowymeowbreow @ajrfanz @ghoullyrumblins

CHAPTER NINE: LOADING...

[bucknastysbabe]

Something to Hold - B.Barnes

Rating: Explicit

Tags: PWP, post TFATWS, bf Bucky, teasing, dirty talk, plus sized reader, v!play, pnv!sex, multiple orgasms

A/N: This is a repost from an old ask of Bucky and a plus sized gf :)

Bucky had a skip in his step going down the street. He was done with all of the bullshit paperwork in the Flagsmashers aftermath. Sam was taking over the mantle of Steve amazingly, Walker was ousted and shamed, and they even got Sharon back into the States. Although he wasn’t completely sure about her.

Regardless he could breathe and go see his sweetie. Perfect, patient, lovely, and owner of the most wondrous curves. Bucky had to keep his dick in his pants for now. He carried a bouquet of roses and some chocolates, hustling down the row of brownstones.

His girlfriend was very talented in her career and managed to buy one for herself. He fought back his giddy grin when rapping on the red wooden door. It slowly opened to reveal her pretty face, mussed hair, and an adorable huge t-shirt. The man had to shove down his intense desire knowing that was his shirt. She yelped in surprise, practically launching at the super-soldier.

Bucky laughed and grabbed her under the ass to keep the crying thing from falling. He chuckled, “Hey, hey, you’ll mess up the chocolates hold on.” She grabbed the package blindly and tossed it on a side table. She nuzzled into his scruff, arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

She sniffled, “Don’t need 'em- I got you.”

The super soldier shook his head with a toothy smile, placing the flowers on another surface while leading the pair to the living room. He stroked her back in an attempt to quiet her crying. Bucky did not need to have the usual happy-go-lucky woman crying over the likes of him.

Sitting back onto the plush couch he murmured, “I’m back now, done, you’ll want to kick me out before the end of it.” His flesh hand thumbed away a tear and tipped her chin up.

The girl wiped at her eyes and half-giggled and sobbed, “I know, I was so worried during it all. The news isn’t good for my nerves.”

Bucky wanted to get lost in her watery eyes, framed by long clumped lashes. He murmured while stroking along her lush sides, “I can give you first-hand doll,” he absently waved, “Tell me about you.” She rolled her eyes and replied, “Work, worrying, watching Alpine, I started a new project.”

As soon as the white cat was mentioned she appeared, purring and snuggling up to the pair. Bucky felt his eyes begin to water as he croaked, “There’s my sweet girl.” The cat let out a little ‘mrow?’ and promptly bit his hand. The couple burst into guffaws, Bucky snarking, “I guess that’s what I deserve.”

He leaned back, pulling his girl onto his chest.

“So tell me about that project, baby.”

He was listening to her talk about work and the project, really, but other things were starting to rear their head. She was so soft against him, lovely curves and pillowy breasts. The woman seemed sleepy recounting the latest news, her words slightly slurred. Bucky figured it was time for a wake-up call. He grabbed a handful of ass,smirking lecherously.

She squeaked and bolted upright, gaping at Bucky. He snickered, “What?” She narrowed her eyes and groped his half-hard dick in return, the brunette’s eyes rolling with a breathy laugh. Bucky rumbled, “Sorry sweetheart, you feel so good I lost control.”

He squeezed again and nosed along her jaw— drawing out a gasp.

“Imagine how I’ve felt, toys don’t do the trick when I have a sexy super hero saving the world.”

Bucky grew jealous. He didn’t care if they were inanimate— only he got to watch his sweet girl lose herself in pleasure. He growled, “Oh yeah? What did you try?” She bit on her lower lip, eyes darting to the side, face flushing with embarrassment. Bucky ground his heavy cock against her thin underwear to goad her along.

She mumbled, “The vibrator, mm, then the shower one, y’know with the suction.”

He could’ve taken her right there imagining his girlfriend whining frustratedly on the dildo in the shower— curves slick, soapy, and bouncing with her movements. Bucky nipped her bottom lip sharply, relishing in her whimper. He cooed, “Didn’t do ya’ a lick of good either huh baby? Needed this to treat you right.”

He rutted again for good measure, cock throbbing insistently. She shivered on his thighs, eyes growing glossy in desire.

She whimpered, “B-Buck, please.”

He growled, “Open.”

The girl did so obediently, widening lax lips. Bucky tilted her head back and dropped some of his spit onto her tongue. He commanded, “Swallow.” She whined thinly, throat bobbing as she did so. Her plush thighs were practically vibrating on his toned ones.

“Please, fuck, fuck,” she whined, tears pricking.

Bucky grabbed her soft cheek forcefully and claimed her lips. She pressed forward clumsily, heavy tits on his chest and little hands wrenching his jacket. Bucky dominated the kiss, his baby too overcome to do much except weak kisses and drooling. He laughed while sucking on her tongue, plundering the cute thing’s mouth.

It was sloppy. Bucky was in heaven. He liked knowing he could reduce her to tears and careless kisses without even getting in her pants. She mouthed against his lips, rutting to get closer. Which on that note, he snuck a hand down her plush tummy to get at her pussy. She cried out again, gasping hotly into the super soldier’s mouth.

Bucky slid two flesh fingers across her weeping slit and groaned, “Fuck- sweetheart you’re so wet.” She warbled, “Missed you, please.” In a fitful movement, Bucky flipped her around on his lap. Full ass thick against his cock and now all of her curves and plush body for him to grab freely. She seemed too dazed to register, whimpering at the manhandling.

Nibbling on her neck Bucky hummed, “Can you take my shirt off for me baby? Hm?”

She flushed and nodded shyly. He hated when she got shy, thinking her extra padding wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d laid eyes on. Bucky was a man, he wanted something to grab on when he fucked a girl stupid. She shucked off the shirt, curling in on herself.

“No- no- you better stop it. Still like ya’ curves doll,” he tutted.

An annoyed whine was the response.

So Bucky ripped off her underwear with his vibranium arm, donning a shit eating grin.

The woman yelping and jolting on his cock. Bucky snickered, “That’s what ya’ get, now I get to see it all.” Her face flushed further, prettier for Buck, swollen lips lax and wet. He grabbed handfuls of her soft tits and groaned deeply, massaging and tweaking the tender flesh.

Her head fell back again against the brunette’s shoulder, brokenly whimpering his name. Bucky murmured, “So sweet, missed my baby.” He thumbed at a peaked nipple and circled it, sending her ass rocking back against his throbbing cock. Regretfully leaving her breast, he slid his other hand to grope at plush hips and belly before drawing fingers against her slick cunt.

She urged breathlessly, “Oh, c’mon touch me bear, oh!”

He sucked a dark mark behind her ear while delving two vibranium fingers into her slick channel— hot, pulsing, and oh-so-soaked. He grunted in arousal, thrusting and curling his fingers. Bucky growled, “Be a good girl and ride my hand.” She nodded vigorously, mewling and canting her hips against the heel of his palm.

Bucky gritted his teeth to hold back from the intense pleasure of her ass rubbing perfectly along his strained dick. He had to compartmentalize. Objective one, make his Angel cum. Then he can have a go. She squealed on a perfectly timed curl of fingers on the g-spot and his calloused palm against her clit.

The man used his other hand to grab and pull at her bouncing breasts, his mouth leaving a mess of marks all over her neck. She began to tremble, hands twitching to find purchase. His babydoll wailed, “Buck, oh goddd, m’so close baby!” The former assassin paused his bite to growl, “Let go, I know it feels s’good. Then I’ll fuck ya’ raw.”

That did the trick. She loved fucking raw. Bucky had an inkling his girl had been wanting him to knock her up. He wouldn’t mind, more tits, more curves, and a Junior. But Bucky was selfish and wanted her to himself for now— no sharing. Her gushing all over his hand brought Bucky out of his fantasies.

She sucked in deep breaths, exhaling with moans, body wracked with pleasure. Bucky cooed and eased her down, drawing his fingers out of her. He could bust right now at the slick on his pants. She turned and begged for a kiss silently, eyelashes fluttering.

They kissed again, softer this time, softly intertwining their tongues. She whispered into Bucky’s mouth, “Your turn, old man.” Bucky snickered and rolled his eyes dramatically, nipping her upper lip teasingly. She reached behind blindly to help him unbutton, lips sealing together with wet smacks.

Bucky moaned when his achy cock hit the air, her slick center so close to where he needed it buried. She mewled, “Take me, use me, baby, get it out.” Later, the man would deny the pathetic noise he made. Bucky aligned the ruddy tip of his cock to her and gritted his jaw at being sheathed. Her back arched at the intrusion, mouthing at Bucky’s scruff.

He gripped onto her flared hips and lifted her up and down on his cock. A cocksleeve at this point with the way Bucky was slamming his angry cock in. She cried and babbled at the rough treatment, incoherent slurs. Bucky choppily grunted and moaned, veins pulsing with sheer need. She felt so damn good.

Bucky hissed, “That’s my- hah- best girl, bein’a good little fucktoy.”

She nodded deliriously, drool running down a corner or her gaping mouth, tits bouncing wildly as she held onto Bucky’s hands for dear life. The brunette was going to blow quick at this rate— his girl was sucking him in too good. She seized up and squeezed his dick like a vice.

She had cum again, only a shrill yelp and Bucky’s cock being throughly milked as the indicator. His baby fell limp against him, nuzzling into his sweaty cheek. His balls were full up and pulsing, ready to release. Another one, two, three pumps Bucky came with a loud cry of her name.

He slumped into the couch, still seated inside of his girlfriend while riding out the aftershocks. He could vaguely hear her whimpering about being full under the blood rushing in Bucky’s ears. He wrapped his arms around her plush midsection, suddenly very tired. She hissed, “Not there.”

Yawning, Bucky snorted, “No way in hell baby. Can’t a man hug the woman he loves who just made him see stars?”

She narrowed her eyes for a pause then pecked his lips. The woman murmured, “Fine. Since you’re the man I love who made me see stars two times.”

“Well, I could count two myself since you’re in my lap.”

“Hush.”

[juliettejwnewinesa]

Hello!! I wanted to ask you something real quick… SORRY FOR THE LONG TEXT BTW

We all know Seongje has that full-on psychopath energy when he wants to.

that smile, the way he moves, the control freak vibe HEHEHEHE. I would LOVE to see a oneshot where he’s with the reader but still acts like the same guy we saw in the series.

Most fics turn him into this soft, romantic version, but that’s just not how I see him😩. He’s the type who needs to know everything. Every step his partner takes, every person she talks to, every little interaction, he has to be aware of it all, really in control. (Preferably with an F!reader.)

So here’s my idea😛:

Seongje and the reader recently had a fight because of how jealous, possessive, and obsessive he can be.

But, and this is important, I don’t want the reader to be some sweet, innocent girl who just takes it. No. She’s got her own fire. She’s a bit unhinged too in her own way. She teases him, she likes seeing that insane side of him, but she also knows when to push and when to pull back. She’s more logical. She knows when she’s right, when she’s wrong, and when to act.

He, on the other hand? Acts first, thinks later. That’s what makes her the smarter one.

BUT I want Seongje to be that smart dumbass... like, clever in his own twisted way but still completely reckless when it comes to her.

They both have each other’s locations on (like that app Si-eun used in Season 1), but one night the reader completely ghosts him🔥🔥 ignores all his messages and calls, sneaks out late at night, and even leaves her phone at home so he can’t track her.

Somehow though… he finds her.

And when he does? He’s completely UNHINGED.

I want DRAMAAAA. I want TENSION. I want them screaming at each other, pushing each other’s buttons, absolutely going insane

and then finally, him snapping and reconciling with her like only he would.

Pleaseeee make it long AND DRAMATIC AND FULL OF TENSION AND AT THE SAME TIME PASSION AND OBSESSION COMING FROM BOTH SIDES😭😭🥺💃🏻😦 sorry but a seongje fan will always be out of her mind😋

pleeeease pls pls pls IM CRAZY

Title: Where the Hell Were You?

Pairing: Na Seongje x F!Reader Genre: Dark romance, psychological tension, obsession, angsty lovers, NSFW themes implied Word count: ~500 words TW: Toxic dynamic, possessiveness, shouting, cursing, physical confrontation (non-violent), manipulation, obsessive behavior, unhealthy attachment, implied smut Note: You asked for psychopath Seongje, and he’s here. With his whole chest.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It started with the phone calls. Then the messages. Then the silence.

You stared at the little device sitting so innocently on your nightstand, screen down, Seongje’s name long since stopped lighting it up. You could imagine him now—sitting in that godforsaken car, probably gripping the steering wheel so tight the leather would start to tear. You hadn’t brought your phone. No location, no texts, no breadcrumbs.

For the first time in months, you vanished from his radar.

And God, the feeling of it was electric.

You weren’t running away. You weren’t hiding. You just needed one night—one fucking night—to breathe. To go out, exist, not have your every movement stalked by that wolfish stare of his.

It wasn’t even about the guy at the party. You hadn’t done anything. You’d danced. Laughed. Threw your head back in a way you knew would make Seongje spiral.

He always spiraled.

“You like making me lose my mind?” he’d asked you once, voice raw with something that tasted like pain and need. “Do you like seeing me like this?”

And the answer had always been yes.

—

He found you anyway.

You didn’t even hear the car pull up—just felt it, like a pressure drop in the air. Like a storm cell rolling in.

You had just walked out of the small club. Quiet back street. The kind of place he’d never let you go to alone.

And then: “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

His voice was low. Dangerous. The kind of tone that made your skin break into goosebumps before you even turned around.

You turned anyway.

There he was—standing half in shadow, jaw locked so tight it could snap, black hair messy like he’d dragged his hands through it a thousand times. His chest rose and fell like he’d run here. Maybe he had.

Your lips curled. “Took you long enough.”

“Where’s your phone?”

“Home.”

“You left your fucking phone?” He was already storming up to you, his voice rising with every step. “You turned off your location? Ignored all my fucking messages—and you think this is funny?”

You shrugged. “Little bit.”

“Y/N,” he ground out, stepping so close your backs hit the wall behind you. “You think you’re clever, right? You think this is a fucking game?”

“No. But you do.” You smiled, slow and sharp. “You wanna be the one who controls the board. I just flipped it over.”

His eyes flashed. “You don’t get to do that.”

“Why not?” you shot back. “You think because you know who I text, where I go, what I wear—suddenly I’m yours? You think that means you get to scream at me every time some guy breathes in my direction? You’re not my fucking warden, Seongje.”

He leaned in, voice like broken glass. “You are mine.”

“And what if I’m not?”

“Then I’ll make you be.”

You blinked at him, not even flinching. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

He was silent. Dead silent. And then—bang—his hand slammed against the wall next to your head, just missing your face.

You didn’t even move. “There it is.”

He stared at you. Breathing hard. Eyes burning. That slow, deranged smile stretching across his lips.

“You like this,” he muttered.

You tilted your chin up. “Don’t you?”

Silence crackled between you. Not calm. Tension. A live wire hanging just between your bodies.

“I should’ve dragged you home the second I found your location was off,” he hissed.

“You didn’t.”

“I should have.”

“But you didn’t.”

He looked like he might explode.

So you stepped forward. Into his space. Your lips almost brushing his.

“You’re smart, Seongje,” you said softly. “But when it comes to me, you stop thinking. You always do.”

“I don’t need to think,” he snapped. “I just need to keep you where I can see you.”

“Then maybe you should’ve chained me up.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

That made your brow rise.

And then—it broke.

The moment cracked like thunder between you. One second you were glaring at him, and the next you were on him. Arms around his neck. His hands gripping your waist like he’d die if he let go. His lips crashing into yours like punishment. Like apology. Like pure rage.

“You drive me insane,” he growled between kisses.

“I know,” you gasped. “That’s the fun part.”

His mouth trailed down to your neck. You let him bite. You let him mark. You let him show you—like he always did—that he could never love you normally.

This wasn’t gentle. This wasn’t healing. This was ownership.

“You can’t just disappear on me,” he rasped. “Not again.”

“Then learn how to handle it.”

“I don’t want to learn. I want you.”

He yanked you closer. You felt every line of him—every frantic breath, every angry heartbeat.

“I hate the way you make me feel,” he said against your skin. “I hate that I lose my head for you. That I fucking spiral. That I can’t even think straight.”

You smiled into his shoulder. “Then maybe I’ll do it again.”

His laugh was breathless. Dangerous.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he muttered.

“You’re lucky I don’t run.”

“I’d find you.”

“I know.”

You both stood there, clinging, shaking, still burning with fury—but you needed it. Needed this cycle of chaos, of destruction, of passion. Because love for you two was never gentle. It was always a war. And in war, the one you fight hardest is the one you can’t live without.

So when he pulled back, gripping your chin, eyes crazed and glassy with something too heavy to name—

And said, “Get in the car.”

You did.

But only because you wanted to.

—

🖤 END 🖤

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Club Sex (John Walker)

Description: John gets jealous seeing his girl and Bucky dancing on the dance floor.

Warning: Smut, Dick Riding, Humiliation, Public Sex

Word Count: 821

Request: john walker semi/public smut 😞

It didn’t take much to rile up John, he had huge jealousy issues and needed validation every 10 minutes it seemed. She was playing a dangerous game during this mission, one that had John nearly growling. Bucky chuckled as she danced her way over to him so they can talk about the mission.

John didn’t like seeing them that close as she wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear. From John’s point of view it looked seductive, in reality it wasn’t. He hated that he had to be the look out and couldn’t be with this girl but Bucky knew the owner and it made more sense but as his hands wandered all over her body, John stopped caring. “Do you see him?” Bucky asked her as he looked behind her.

She shook her head and didn’t notice John was there until he nearly snatched her out of Bucky’s arms, “Do you guys have to be so close?” He growled. She pushed him back a little and yelled over the music, “Do you really have to do this here, John? You’re gonna blow our cover.” She whispered the last part and looked around for the owner. “So you have to fuck him?” She huffed and rolled her eyes, “No John we are dancing.”

Basically fucking, he thought. She looked at Bucky who was now dancing with someone else, she let out a sigh and grabbed John’s hand pulling him through the crowd. She was annoyed, the anger she felt towards him radiating off her as she found a couch that wasn’t taken. She nearly threw John down on the couch. Everyone was dancing and dry humping as the music blasted through the speakers, John looked up at her confused before she straddled him.

She smirked, feeling his hard dick against her, “Really? Here?” He questioned but he wasn’t complaining. She shrugged, “Yeah since you can’t control your jealousy issues.” He feels her hand palm him and it takes everything in him not to beg. Luckily with them being in public she couldn’t tease him that much. Both her hands worked his jeans as his hands were on her ass, he stared up at her in awe as she got his hard dick out of his pants, “Fuck you’re so pretty.” He says and she smirks at him before rubbing him on her very wet pussy.

He gasped as he realized that she wasn’t wearing panties. He gripped her hips harder, “So you were dancing with Bucky with no panties?” He hated the idea even more but it was so hot right now. She sunk down onto him before either could say anything else, she looked around to see that nobody was paying attention to them. She looked back at John and bit her lip, shivering as she took him in.

“You happy now?” She asked, teasing as she barely moved her hips. He groaned and gripped her hips, wanting to move her on his own but she saw the look in his eyes, “We do this my way or I leave you here, dick out and everything.” She warns and his hands still, believing her words. He had never met a woman like her, never been with one until her. She had some dominance over him that he was sure he’d never give up.

But as she rode his dick moaning softly, he realized that he found the control she had quite hot. The public club setting where they could be caught at any moment made their orgasms approach faster, “Y-you’re already clo-close.” She points out, her voice shaky with need. He nodded, feeling her spasm around him, she was close too. He looked drunk, fucked out on her pussy as she stopped caring if anyone was watching them.

All she cared about was making them cum. She grabbed his face, “I’m riding you in a crowd of people, so I don’t wanna hear anything about me and Bucky doing a mission together, understand me?” She nearly moaned the last part and he nodded, panting like a dog. “Fuck.” He groaned and she felt him fill her up, triggering her own release. It took all her strength not to collapse on his chest as her orgasm hit her like a truck.

It took them a second to get off of cloud nine before she looked around and got off him with shaky legs. She wiped the drool and sweat off her face and tried to make it seem like they weren’t just fucking.“Feel better?” She asked and he nodded, not really being able to talk. She looked down and nearly laughed, “I’d put your dick away before someone else sees.” She tells him with a wink and walks back to Bucky. Wow, what a woman, he thought as she stared at her going back to the dance floor like nothing happened, totally forgetting about his soft dick.

[sunsetmade]

The Fourth of July

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Rafe spends Independence Day with his girlfriend and surprises her with fireworks.

Sunny’s Notes: Happy Fourth!! I hope you enjoy this little special!!

The Fourth of July on the Outer Banks had always been loud.

Bonfires burned too close to driftwood fences. Someone’s speaker always blasted country music like a challenge, trying to outdo the sound of the waves. Fireworks went off recklessly, half the time too close to people’s cars, the other half too close to someone’s drunk uncle. Kids darted through it all barefoot, sparklers in hand, screaming like the night couldn’t touch them.

It was chaos. Beautiful, summer-soaked chaos. And Rafe was usually at the center of it all.

But not this year.

This year, Rafe Cameron wasn’t at the center of the party, laughing too loud or starting something stupid. This year, he wasn’t trying to one-up anyone or prove anything. He wasn’t with Topper or Kelce. He wasn’t down at the beach bonfire.

Because this year, he only cared about her.

“You sure you don’t wanna go to the beach thing?” she asked, brow raised as she watched him tug a folded lawn chair from the back of his truck.

Rafe glanced at her over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth curling into a grin. He was sun-kissed and barefoot, wearing the same slightly wrinkled t-shirt from earlier that clung to his chest in the heat. His hair was pushed back from his face, messy in that careless, Rafe way that somehow still looked intentional. “And miss tonight with you and a suspiciously unregulated box of fireworks I may or may not have bought from a guy named Steve behind a bait shop?” He slammed the tailgate closed. “Not a chance, baby.”

She laughed from the passenger seat, her bare knees tucked up meeting the fabric of her tank top. “What if your dad finds out?”

That made him smirk harder. He walked around the front of the truck, tapping on her window with two knuckles until she rolled it down. He leaned in, forearms braced on the edge, eyes level with hers and too close not to make her heart flutter.

“Then we run,” he murmured.

She bit back a smile. He always said things like that—reckless, dramatic, and somehow romantic. Like the world could burn down as long as they were in it together.

They’d spent the entire day avoiding everything. Ducked into a convenience store for popsicles they ate on the curb. Walked the trail by the marsh until her flip-flops got muddy and he offered to carry her.

He made a show of dramatically pulling into a gas station just because he’d “never let his girl go without a cherry Icee on the Fourth of July,” and then made her take a selfie with it so he could “document the moment.” She rolled her eyes, but secretly? She loved it.

Rafe had been golden all day—skin tanned from the sun, hair still short from his buzz but longer now, grin cocky and teasing like he knew how good he looked and loved catching her staring.

Now, the sun had dipped low, the sky a haze of orange and blue melting into one another. They were parked on a quiet patch of overgrown land up past the old quarry—just tall grass, crickets, and a lot of sky. Rafe claimed his family owned the land or had access to it through some weird property line situation. He said it with enough confidence that she didn’t bother arguing.

He set up the chairs with care, pulling a blanket from the truck bed and tossing it over the grass like they were camping. Somewhere, miles off, fireworks were already going off—distant pops like thunder. Closer to them, it was quiet. Just wind, her heartbeat, and him.

He looked back at her, eyes catching hers in the fading light. “C’mere.”

She padded across the grass barefoot holding one cold beer and a can of Sprite from the cooler. She handed him the beer without a word, and instead of sitting in her own chair, she lowered herself into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And to Rafe? It was.

His arms curled around her waist without hesitation, pulling her a little closer. Her back pressed to his chest, her legs draped lazily over his, and he exhaled like this—this—was what he’d been waiting for all day.

“I’m serious,” he said, cracking open his drink. “This is way better than some drunk bonfire with Topper trying to jump over flames again.”

She smiled, tilting her head back against his shoulder. “You mean you don’t miss being the center of attention?”

He huffed a laugh, the sound rumbling against her back. “Nah. Got everything I want right here.”

And just like that, her heart skipped. Because with Rafe, it was never loud declarations or perfect timing. It was quiet moments like this—him tucked around her, heat from his skin, the smell of sunscreen and grass, and fireworks waiting in the truck bed.

The sun was sinking slow and syrupy over the Outer Banks, casting long shadows and drenching the horizon in layers of lavender, honey gold, and burnt orange. The sky stretched wide above them, the kind of open, endless summer sky that made everything feel softer. Slower. Like time had decided to take the night off too.

She was still curled up on Rafe’s lap, one of his worn flannels wrapped around her shoulders and hanging loose over her tank top. The sleeves were too long, brushing her knuckles, but she didn’t mind—she liked the way it smelled faintly like his cologne and salt air. Her knees were drawn up slightly, legs draped over his, her bare feet resting against the cool fabric of the blanket spread beneath them.

Rafe hadn’t said much in the last few minutes. Just sat back with her in his arms, fingers drifting absentmindedly over her shin in slow, lazy motions. Every now and then he’d trace a little pattern—a line, a circle, a tap with his thumb—like his body needed to keep touching her even when his words ran out. It was quiet between them in the best way. Easy. Like neither of them needed to fill the space.

She tilted her head, voice soft. “You ever think about what you’d be doing right now if we weren’t here?”

He blinked, then glanced down at her—his expression loose and warm, like the sunlight hadn’t quite left his skin yet. “Probably pretending to have fun at that party.”

She smiled, lips tugging to the side.

“Trying not to get roped into a keg stand,” he added dryly, rolling his eyes. “Listening to Topper scream every lyric to Morgan Wallen and acting like that’s peak entertainment.”

She let out a quiet laugh, the sound muffled as she tucked her face briefly against his chest. “You love it.”

“I love this,” he said without hesitation.

That made her pause. She tilted her chin just enough to catch his expression—his eyes fixed on her with a rare softness. Honest and steady, like he meant every word and didn’t care if she knew it.

“This is better, huh?” she asked, voice a little quieter now.

Rafe didn’t even blink.

“This is perfect.”

The words were simple, but the way he said them—calm and sure, like there was no other version of the night that could even compete—made something in her chest pull tight. Not in a bad way. Just in that achy, overwhelmed, but loving way.

She leaned into him a little more, pressing her cheek to his shoulder, letting her hand rest lightly against the center of his chest. She could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath it.

Perfect.

⸻

By the time the sky turned fully dark, the last sliver of light bleeding off the horizon, Rafe stood up with a stretch and cracked his knuckles.

The sound snapped her out of the quiet haze they’d slipped into. She blinked up at him from where she was still curled on the blanket, hair a little tangled from the wind, the sleeves of his flannel draped past her fingertips.

“Alright,” he said, glancing down at her with that dangerous glint in his eye. “Ready to have some fun.”

Her head tilted, curiosity rising. “Wait, really? You’re actually gonna light those things?”

That grin broke across his face—the one she’d seen a hundred times but never got used to. It was cocky, reckless, a little too pleased with himself. The kind of grin that meant he was about to do something no one had asked for, and somehow make it look cool anyway.

“Hell yeah, I am.”

He sauntered toward the back of the truck and popped open the dusty cooler they’d both assumed was holding backup drinks. Instead, it was packed to the brim with fireworks—roman candles, bottle rockets, a few suspiciously unlabeled tubes that looked like they belonged in a bad idea reel on the internet.

She sat up straighter, her heart ticking up a notch. “Rafe…”

He glanced over his shoulder like he already knew what she was about to say.

“Are you sure these are, like… safe? You bought them from someone sketchy.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just pulled a sparkler from a box and lit it with an easy flick of his lighter before turning to hand it to her like a peace offering.

“We’ll start slow.”

The sparkler hissed to life between her fingers, golden light bursting out in tiny crackles that danced across her face. She couldn’t help but smile as she twirled it in slow circles, watching the embers trail like fireflies.

Behind her, Rafe was already crouching down near a firework that looked considerably less safe. His brows were furrowed in concentration, jaw set, the tip of his lighter flaring as it caught the fuse.

“Back up,” he warned, casually—like he wasn’t about to unleash an actual explosion.

She took a few quick steps back, half-laughing, half-nervous. “Rafe, be caref—”

But before she could finish the sentence, the fuse caught with a sharp sizzle.

And Rafe—without a single word of warning—dropped the lighter, spun around, and grabbed her waist.

“Come on, baby!” he shouted, already hauling her off the ground.

She shrieked in surprise, clutching at his shoulders as he half-carried, half-dragged her across the field in a full sprint. Her feet barely touched the ground, stumbling through the grass as she laughed breathlessly, head thrown back, heart racing.

Behind them, the firework launched into the sky with a deafening WHOOOOOSH, followed by a burst of light so loud and bright it felt like the whole field lit up in red and silver.

She turned in his arms just in time to see it bloom—like a flower made of fire and stars.

Her breath caught. “Oh my god, that was so pretty.”

Rafe’s grin didn’t waver. He was still holding her, his hands firm on her waist, chest rising and falling with laughter. “You should’ve seen your face.”

She squinted at him through the smoke drifting across the field, cheeks flushed from both the adrenaline and his closeness.

He leaned in, pressing his face into the crook of her neck, his voice low and amused. She could feel the smile in his lips against her skin.

She gave his chest a light smack, still catching her breath. “You didn’t even warn me!”

“That’s part of the fun,” he said with zero remorse, tightening his arms around her.

They stood there like that for a beat—firework smoke still hanging in the air, the sound of distant explosions echoing from across town. And in the quiet that followed, there was something softer between them. Rafe’s hands lingered on her waist, thumbs brushing gentle circles. His grin hadn’t fully faded, but his eyes had gone a little hazy, like he was seeing her and only her.

Then, with a spark of mischief returning to his face, he pulled back just enough to raise a brow. “Wanna do another?”

She hesitated, teeth sinking into her lip while her fingers held onto his.

“…Can I light one?” she asked, eyes flicking up to meet his.

Rafe stilled.

He looked at her like she’d just suggested robbing a bank. His brow lifted, mouth quirking as he tilted his head slightly to the side, clearly trying to decide whether she was serious.

“You wanna?” he said, more amused than anything.

She gave a tiny nod, biting back a smile, and oh—there it was. That look. The one that always disarmed him without trying. Soft and sweet. That quiet confidence she only ever let slip around him.

He stared at her for a moment longer, his protectiveness taking over his thoughts.

Rafe exhaled through his nose, like he was trying to pretend he still had the upper hand in this. He didn’t. Not even close.

“I dunno…” he drawled, eyes narrowing as if considering the safety logistics. “You got steady hands, sweetheart?”

She laughed, nudging his chest with her elbow. “C’mon. You just lit one like a maniac and ran across a field with me. I think I can handle one.”

Rafe gave her a long look—still protective, still weighing the risk like he always did when it came to her. But after a moment, he let out a low chuckle and shook his head, already caving.

“Alright,” he murmured, reaching into the cooler and pulling out a roman candle. He handed it over carefully, like it was something precious. “But you better be careful, baby.”

He stepped in close, his hand brushing against her fingers as she took the firework. Then, before she could reply, he leaned down and pressed a light, lingering kiss to the side of her neck—just beneath her jaw, where her skin was warm and sensitive.

The kiss was quick, but intimate enough to make her stomach flip.

She turned toward him, wide-eyed and flustered, but he just gave her that cocky half-smile.

“Gotta keep you in one piece,” he murmured, voice low against her ear. “You light this thing wrong, I’m tackling you to the ground. No hesitation.”

She grinned, heart thudding, already forgetting how to breathe properly.

He stepped back just enough to flick open his lighter, eyes still on her. “You ready?”

She nodded, gripping the firework tight.

But honestly, she was less focused on the roman candle and more on the way Rafe was looking at her—like she’d just become his entire night.

She nodded, but her fingers curled tighter around the roman candle, pulse fluttering a little too fast.

“Okay,” she said, more to herself than to him.

Rafe didn’t move far—just a few steps back, close enough to grab her if anything went sideways. His lighter flicked to life with a sharp click, the flame steady even as the wind picked up a little across the field.

He held it out. “Just tilt it slightly. Aim up, not at your face, and don’t drop it if it starts crackling.”

“That’s very comforting, thank you,” she muttered, but reached out with shaking fingers anyway.

The fuse caught on the first try, the flame hissing as it curled down into the base. The sound was sharper than she expected, and she flinched—just slightly—but didn’t let go.

The first blast fired with a loud POP, sending a glowing ball of color streaking across the sky in a trail of gold.

She gasped, the force of it rattling her arms. “Holy shit—!”

Rafe barked a laugh from beside her, eyes shining as he watched her light up in the aftermath. “Atta girl,” he said, stepping up behind her.

Another spark shot from the candle, a pulse of red this time that lit up the field around them in a quick, vibrant flash. She turned halfway, a little breathless, but didn’t stop smiling.

“I did it,” she whispered, like she didn’t quite believe it.

“You did,” Rafe murmured back, chest brushing her shoulder as he came closer. “And no burns. Proud of you.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, hair blown slightly by the breeze, and he looked at her like she was glowing brighter than the fireworks. There was something new in his gaze—something warm and unguarded, like watching her laugh and light things on fire might’ve just done him in completely.

Another blast fired, shooting blue across the sky. She let out another startled laugh and stepped back, bumping into his chest.

Without thinking, Rafe wrapped his arms around her from behind, steadying her as the final burst fired—a long, shrill whistle followed by a golden starburst overhead that crackled like applause.

She leaned into him instinctively, both of them looking up, the night sky flickering above their heads.

⸻

The distant thud of fireworks still echoed through the summer night, but Rafe barely heard them now.

What pulled his attention wasn’t the sky lit up in reds and golds—it was the soft, steady sound of her breathing. Barely-there snores, gentle and warm against his chest.

They were back at his house now, curled up together on the weathered couch out on the balcony. It overlooked the marsh, the tree line glowing faintly beneath each burst of color in the sky beyond. It really was the perfect view, but he hadn’t looked up in minutes.

Not when she was here like this. Tangled up in him.

Earlier, she’d nestled into his side, eyes still shining from the thrill of the night. Her legs had draped over his, his arm looped easily around her shoulders like it belonged there. She’d leaned in slowly, kissed him—soft and sweet at first, her hand pressed lightly against his jaw. But it didn’t stay sweet for long.

It turned into something a little hungrier. A little more breathless. Her fingers in his hair, his hands tight on her waist. He remembered the little sound she made when he pulled her closer by the hem of that oversized flannel still hanging on her shoulders. Like she’d forgotten how to think. Or how their lips smacked when he pulled her in deeper.

By the time she pulled away, her lips were pink and puffy, her chest rising and falling as she rested her head on his shoulder, trying to catch her breath.

And Rafe—cocky, chaotic Rafe—was speechless.

He let out a slow breath and slid his hand down her side, fingers curling at her hip, tugging her flush against him again like he didn’t want to let go. Which, honestly, he didn’t.

They talked for a while after that. About stupid things—like how did fireworks even start and who came up with it. About real things too—like where they used to spend Fourth of July as kids, and how weird it was that this year felt so different. So much better. More real.

Eventually, her words started to trail off. He felt the shift—the way her body softened into his, like a weight letting go.

And then she was quiet.

Rafe tilted his head, just enough to glance down at her.

Out cold.

Her lips were still parted slightly, lashes fluttering every now and then like she was chasing something peaceful in her sleep. The kind of peaceful he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt until she came around. Her hand resting over his heart.

A quiet smile tugged at his lips.

He let his head fall back against the couch and chuckled under his breath, barely loud enough to be heard over the booms in the distance. His fingers traced gentle circles on her hip as he leaned down and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her temple.

She didn’t stir.

He stayed like that—just holding her, watching the sky flash in the distance while the world quieted around them.

And somewhere between one firework and the next, Rafe found himself thinking something he never used to let cross his mind.

How the hell did I get this lucky?

Because the truth was… he never really had a Fourth that felt like this before. Never sat still long enough. Never let himself have something soft, something that made him feel steady.

But now—her body warm against his, breath syncing with his own, her skin still carrying the faint scent of sunscreen and smoke—he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

And for once, the chaos didn’t call to him.

Only she did.

[littlejoels]

“clickers, huh?” you moan out with your hands curled in his shirt, your tits brushing his chest every time you shift. “yeah, baby. clickers. they’re the ones that can’t see.”

his voice was sexily dragging every word out just so he can watch your lips part while you rode his thigh harder. you let out a soft little moan, not from the story—but from the way he talks through gritted teeth every time your body slides against him just right.

“they can’t see?”

your nails scrape against the back of his neck, teasingly, just the way he likes it. “not a thing. fungus’s all in their damn heads, crusted over their eyes. but they do hear.. real good.”

he punctuates that with a firm grip on your ass, dragging you forward with a grind that makes your breath hitch more than you thought it would. the sensation was making your panties damp and sticky, while his jeans created a tasty friction between your unclothed clit. looking down, you noticed his own arousal leaking through the jeans he swore weren't constricting to his dick.

you blink at him, all curious like a girl who’s never seen a monster in her life. “how do they know where to go?”

“echolocation.”

his hand slides up your spine, big enough to cover your whole back, making you arch into the touch. “hm like bats?”

he grins, that dangerously sexy little thing he does. “just like bats, sugar. they make this awful sound. clickin’ with their mouths.”

your hips are circling faster now, helping the friction build, making your toes curl in your little fuzzy socks. “can they smell?”

“hmm not much. mostly sound. you breathe too hard or you move too fast, they hear it. and they come runnin’.”

you bite your lip and push down just a little harder, feeling his bouncing knee. bunched around your waist, your dress straps start slipping down your shoulders. “that sounds real scary, joel.”

“it is, sweetheart. they tear people apart. with their teeth. strong as hell. no thinkin’. just rippin’ and a bitin’ and a screamin’.”

his voice lowers even more, and you feel your whole core tighten. “is that what you think about when you look at me?”

his hands tighten on your hips, grounding you, steadying you as you ride him slower, soaking his jeans with every moment you make on him. “nah, sugar. when i look at you, i think about how good you look when you’re doin’ this right here. all sweet and dirty on my lap, askin’ about monsters like you ain’t one.” you laugh, leaning forward, giving little kisses to the corner of his mouth and his jaw.

“i’m a monster?”

“my favorite one.” he says, matter-of-factly; he then kisses you roughly, his tongue flicking softly against yours. your leg feels him harden through the denim.

“you’re real mean, makin’ me ask all these fake questions.”

“you started it, baby. coulda just said you wanted to ride me.”

you hum, lips trailing to his ear, nipping it gently. “well where’s the fun in that?”

“fun’s right here, sugar puss. especially in the way you pretend not to know things just to hear me talk.” your cheeks are heat up while his hands are reaching every part of you—waist, ribs, and breasts—and his mouth is greedy, tasting every piece of you that he can reach.

“they sound horrible,” you whisper, “those clickers.”

“they are.” he cups your breast through the thin lace of your ivory bra, thumb teasing the nipple till you whimper.

“thank God i’ve got a big strong man to protect me.”

“you got a man who’d burn the world down if one of those fuckers even breathed in your direction.” you cry out when his hand slides between you, finds that special spot just under your panties, the exact place you’ve been waiting for.

“joel—”

“i got you, suga pus. i always do.” your forehead presses against his, sweat beading on your skin, your thighs shaking with the need of a sweet release.

“tell me more.”

“about the clickers?”

“no..about what you’d do to keep me safe.”

he snarls, bouncing you a bit and more friction, “i’d kill ‘em all. rip ‘em apart. break my fists on their skulls if i had to. long as you’re still breathin’.”

at that moment, you vision goes blurry, ringing in your ears and a piercing scream comes out. joel holds you through it, letting you fully ride it out on him, his mouth pressed to your ear, whispering filth and praising you for being good for him.

you don’t even notice the clicker talk was long forgotten, not when he’s carrying you to bed with your dress still hiked up and his lips pressed to your throat. “we’ll talk monsters tomorrow,” he mutters against your skin, ready to have you screaming all night long.

special tags: @inbred-eater , @carmysdoll , @lowrisemiller, @bluemerakis

[callmemonster68]

fetish | &team

&team members' fetishes in my view

paring: &team x fem!reader 18+ | masterlist

warnings: nsfw, bdsm, unprotected sex, crying, fetish

K – Fetish: Bukkake & Domination with Order

K made you kneel on the floor, naked, eyes downcast. His cock was already throbbing in front of you.

K: Stay there... don't touch, don't moan, just open your mouth.

He started jerking off, his eyes fixed on you.

K: I love seeing your dirty face. Your mouth open waiting for my cum like a hungry little slut.

He came hard, splashing onto her face, her tongue, her chin.

K: Swallow it all. Then rub the rest on your face. I want you marked as my little bitch.

FUMA – Fetiche: Spitting (cuspida) & Deep Throat

Fuma held you by the throat as you swallowed his cock.

Smoke: Good girl... so deep... (he moaned, looking down at you)

You were tearing up, saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth, and when he pulled it out, he spat it right onto your open tongue.

Smoke: Swallow.

You obeyed without thinking.

He smiled, dirty and excited.

Smokes: You were born for this. Mouth like a whore... throat like a toy.

NICHOLAS – Fetish: Face Sitting (him on top of your face)

Nicholas: Today you will shut up properly. (whispered)

He knelt over your face and ran his cock across your tongue before thrusting down hard, making you swallow it all.

Nicholas: That's it... suck me while I rub my load on that slutty face of yours.

You moaned, trapped, your nose between his balls, his cock inside, your body trembling.

Nicholas: A good bitch is one who serves as a chair for a dick. I'm going to cum like this... choking your throat.

EJ – Fetish: Cockwarming (keeping it inside for a long time, without moving)

EJ: You're going to sit on me and stay. Just stay. (ordered)

You slowly lowered yourself, sitting down hard on his cock and staying there, motionless, your body warm, the pleasure latent.

EJ: No moving. No cumming.

He kept teasing you, rubbing his fingers against your clitoris, leaving you on the verge of orgasm.

EJ: That's it... hold on tight. I like to feel my bitch warming me up inside. A little cum mold.

YUMA – Fetish: Somnophilia (sex with you sleepy/slow and passive)

You woke up with something thick and warm filling you. Yuma moaned softly, slowly thrusting inside you.

Yuma: Shhh... keep sleeping... let me play a little...

You half-opened your eyes, limp, still sleepy.

Yuma: Always so wet when you're sleeping... it seems like your body already wants me without you realizing it.

He moved slowly, deeply, with cruel care.

Yuma: Just let me cum inside... then you can go back to sleep.

JO– Fetish: Sex in Public Places / Risk of Getting Caught

You were in a store's dressing room. He turned you against the wall, pulling down your panties in seconds.

Jo: Be quiet, or they'll hear. (he growled against her ear)

You bit your lip as he fucked you fast and deep, his hands firmly on your mouth and waist.

Jo: I've always wanted to fuck you in a place where anyone could walk in.

He came with a muffled grunt, and left before the attendant knocked on the door.

Jo: Now walk as if nothing happened.

HARUA – Fetish: Praise Kink Dirty

Harua had you lying on your back, legs spread, eating you hungrily.

Harua: You're perfect. My beautiful little slut. That's it, moan for me, show me how you like it.

You moaned loudly and wetly, and he kept praising you as he fucked you hard.

Harua: What a tight pussy... so warm... my girl does everything for me, right?

He made you cum with words, and then filled you up with a smile.

Harua: So beautiful, all dirty with my cum…

TAKI – Fetish: Slapping & Choke Play

Taki pulled you by your hair and lightly slapped your face while thrusting violently.

Taki: That's it... look at me while I use you.

You moaned, your cheeks red, your neck being squeezed by his hand.

Taki: Do you like being treated like that? Like a whore?

He slapped you again, and you trembled even more.

Taki: You're going to cum with my hand on your throat... that's what you want, right?

He was laughing and cumming, calling you his submissive bitch.

MAKI – Fetish: Dacryphilia (excitement at seeing you cry with pleasure)

Maki pinned you against the wall, thrusting deep, making you cry with pleasure, eyes full of tears.

Maki: Are you crying? Are you feeling too much?

You tried to answer, but the moans and sobs wouldn't let you.

Maki: I love seeing you like this... shaking, begging, so wet...

He licked a tear from her face, groaning against her skin.

Maki: Cry more... every tear of yours makes me harder.

And he made you cum again, without mercy.

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[this-is-tiny-mia]

Do you believe in fate? | Chapter 2

General Masterlist PART 1!! famous!Harry x fem!reader / flowershopowner!reader

Summary: After losing his wife, Harry struggles to navigate his grief, An encounter with Y/N, a kind florist, who shares the same experience.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: Angst, A slightly rude Harry again, mentions of loss and grief.

As the session wound down, Elaine clapped her hands gently to gather everyone’s attention. “Alright, everyone, let’s start wrapping up. Take a moment to admire your work—and remember, it doesn’t have to be perfect”

You set your vase down on the table, smoothing the final edges with careful precision. It was slightly asymmetrical, just as you liked, with a unique curve that gave it character. You leaned back, letting out a satisfied sigh.

Harry glanced at his own creation. It was… well, wonky was a generous description. The sides weren’t even, and it leaned slightly to one side, but there was something endearing about its imperfection.

“You finished?” you asked, leaning slightly toward him.

“Yeah,” he replied, chuckling as he tilted his head, inspecting his work. “If you can call it that.”

You smiled, looking at his creation. “It’s not bad…It has… charm.”

“Charm?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you said with a small laugh. “It’s quirky. Quirky’s good.”

Harry shook his head, but he was smiling. “Yours is amazing, though,” he said, nodding toward your vase. “Looks like it could go right to the shop.”

“Thanks,” you said, your cheeks warming slightly. “But yours has character. It tells a story.”

Harry snorted, clearly amused. “The story of someone who has no idea what they’re doing.”

You laughed softly. “Hey, everyone starts somewhere. And honestly, it’s not about the end result—it’s about what you felt while making it.”

He glanced at the wonky shape in front of him and nodded. “You’re right. It felt… good. Different, but good.”

Elaine approached, beaming as she looked at both of your pieces. “Beautiful work, both of you. Harry, I love how your piece has this organic, unpolished vibe. And Y/N, your vase is stunning as always.”

“Thanks, Elaine,” you said, and Harry nodded in agreement.

As people began cleaning up, you turned to Harry again. “So, do you think you’ll come back?”

He hesitated for a moment, then smiled. “Yeah, I think I might.”

“Well, if you do, maybe next time, you’ll outdo me,” you teased.

For Harry, it wasn’t just about the clay now—it was about showing up, creating something, and finding a little bit of peace along the way.

Over the next few weeks, Harry became a quiet but steady presence at the pottery class. At first, he would arrive just before the session started, slipping into his usual seat without much interaction. But gradually, he began to linger, staying a little longer after class to clean up or ask Elaine about different techniques. You couldn’t help but notice how his once-clumsy hands were now shaping clay with more ease, and every so often, he’d glance at your work, offering a quiet compliment.

In return, you found yourself looking forward to his company. The two of you fell into an easy rhythm—exchanging small jokes, comparing your projects, and occasionally teasing him about his wonky creations. It wasn’t much, but it felt like the start of something familiar, something grounding. Though Harry rarely talked about himself, you could see the weight on his shoulders lifting bit by bit, and in his own guarded way, he seemed to trust you.

Today’s pottery class had just ended, and you lingered behind, cleaning up your station. Harry stood nearby, absently wiping his hands on a rag, his expression distant—almost sad.

“You okay?” you asked gently, breaking the silence.

He glanced at you, his face serious. “I’m fine,” he said shortly, turning his back as he placed his scraps into the bin.

You hesitated but decided to press just a little. “You just look… different. If something’s bothering you, it might help to talk about it.”

He froze for a moment, then spun around, his tone sharper than you’d ever heard. “Why do you always have to ask? I said I’m fine! Just… leave it alone, alright?”

The sudden sharpness in his voice made you flinch, and your shoulders tensed as you took a step back. “I was just trying to help… I’m not asking you to vent about every detail. I’m just offering to listen—to anything you want to say. You’re not the only one hurting, Harry. We all are, in different ways. The least we can do is try to understand each other, and—”

“Stop,” Elaine’s voice cut through, calm but firm. “We’re not here to hurt—we’re here to heal. Do you think you both can manage the one rule we have?” she asked, her tone serious.

You both looked at her, feeling the weight of her words. Harry rubbed the back of his neck in frustration—not at you, but at himself, at everything.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured to Elaine, then turned to finish cleaning your station. Harry did the same, and for the rest of the time, neither of you exchanged another glance. The silence was awkward and filled with unspoken words. As Harry finished and removed his apron, he turned to look at you for a moment, then let out a long breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice quieter now.

You glanced at him but didn’t respond immediately, unsure if you wanted to let the moment go so easily.

He took a step closer, his tone softer but still uncertain. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Not today, not the last time either. It’s not… you. I just don’t know how to handle this sometimes—how to handle me or whatever’s going on inside.”

You studied him for a moment, noticing the tension in his posture and the vulnerability he was trying to hide. “It’s okay,” you said. “All I want to say is… not everyone’s out to hurt you. As Elaine said, we’re here to heal.”

🌷🌻🌷🌻🌷🌻🌷🌻🌷🌻

The shop smelled of fresh blooms and damp earth as you arranged a new display of daisies and sunflowers by the window. Claire was at the counter, her hands busy tying ribbons around small bouquets for pre-orders.

“So,” Claire started, glancing at you over her shoulder, “are you going to tell me what’s on your mind, or do I have to guess?”

You sighed, pausing mid-arrangement. “It’s Harry.”

Claire raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Pop-star sensation soon to be pottery sensation? What about him?” she said with a teasing tone

You leaned against the counter, fiddling with a stray petal. “He’s… complicated. One moment, he’s quiet and kind, even funny sometimes. But then he has these outbursts. He snaps at me for trying to help, and I don’t know… It’s like he’s carrying so much, and I just want to ease that for him.”

Claire tied another ribbon and set the bouquet aside. “And that’s a bad thing… why?”

“Because I don’t know if I should keep trying,” you admitted. “I mean, I’m not a therapist. I don’t even know if he wants my help. Every time I try to get close, he pushes me away. But then he apologizes, and it’s like he’s trying, you know? Like he’s not really a bad guy—just someone who’s lost.”

Claire nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve got to ask yourself, is it worth the emotional toll it’s taking on you?”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “I just… I like helping people. I like when people smile and have a good time, that’s also why i love flowers! Who doesn’t like flowers?. It’s who I am. And I feel like he could use someone in his corner, even if it’s just for something small. But I don’t know if I’m helping or just annoying him.”

Claire leaned her elbows on the counter, her gaze soft but serious. “Y/N, you have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You always want to fix things, make things better. But you can’t forget something important—you’re healing too.”

Her words struck a chord, and you looked down, fiddling with a ribbon. “I know,” you said quietly. “It’s just… helping others makes me feel like I’m doing something good. Like I’m moving forward.”

Claire smiled gently. “And that’s great. But you can’t pour from an empty vase. You’ve been through a lot, and you’ve come so far. Don’t lose sight of your own progress while trying to help someone else with theirs.”

You nodded slowly, her words settling in your chest. “So, what do I do? Do I stop talking to him?”

“I think,” Claire said, tilting her head, “you need to set boundaries—not just for him, but for yourself. If you think he’s worth the effort, then keep trying, but only as much as you can handle. And remember, it’s okay to take a step back if it gets too much. You’re not a bad person for protecting your own peace.”

You smiled faintly “Thanks”

“Now, are we finishing this display, or are you going to keep worrying over Mr. Styles?”

You laughed softly, feeling a little lighter. As you picked up another bunch of daisies, you decided you’d take things one step at a time—for Harry, but more importantly, for yourself.

🌷🌻🌷🌻🌷🌻🌷🌻🌷🌻

The living room was cozy and filled with soft, warm light from a table lamp in the corner. Harry sat on the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His mother sat across from him in her favorite armchair, knitting needles clicking softly as she worked on a scarf.

“You’ve been quieter than usual,” she said, not looking up from her work.

Harry glanced at her, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I thought you liked it when I was quiet.”

She laughed softly. “I do. But this feels different. It’s not the same as when you’re brooding. You seem… calmer.”

He shrugged, unsure how to respond. “I’ve been going to that pottery thing”

His mum’s hands stilled, and she looked up, surprise and delight in her eyes. “Have you? How’s it been?”

“It’s… alright,” he said, picking at a loose thread on the couch. “It’s kind of nice. Quiet. Messy, though.”

She smiled knowingly. “And the people?”

Harry hesitated, his fingers pausing. “We are a small group. All different—different ages, backgrounds. One of them…” He trailed off, his gaze fixed on the thread he was pulling at.

“One of them?”

He let out a small sigh. “There’s this woman. The florist. She’s… persistent.”

His mother raised an eyebrow. “Persistent how?”

“She keeps trying to… I don’t know. Help me, I guess,” he said, his tone quieter now. “Even when I snap at her or try to shut her out, she doesn’t give up. It’s annoying, but… not in a bad way.”

His mum smiled softly, setting her knitting aside. “She sounds like she cares. Maybe she sees something in you worth sticking around for.”

Harry let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “She doesn’t even know me.”

“Maybe she doesn’t need to,” his mother said gently. “Sometimes, it’s not about knowing every detail. It’s about seeing someone and deciding they’re worth a little kindness.”

“I don’t know if I deserve that,” he admitted.

“Of course you do,” she said firmly. “You’ve been through so much, Harry, but that doesn’t mean you have to go through it alone. Let people in, even if it’s just a little. I’m not saying it in a romantic way, she could be a friend”

Harry nodded slowly, though uncertainty still lingered in his expression. “I’ll think about it,” he said quietly.

“You do that,” his mother replied with a smile, picking up her knitting again. “And remember my teapot” she smiled

As the quiet settled back over the room, Harry found himself thinking of your way of trying, even when he made it difficult.

🌷🌻🌷🌻🌷🌻🌷🌻🌷🌻

The pottery studio was quieter than usual, the soft hum of music barely masking the occasional clinking of tools and quiet chatter. You were at your usual spot, hunched over a lump of clay, but your hands weren’t moving the way they normally did. Instead, they trembled slightly, your focus wavering as you tried to steady your breathing.

Harry noticed as soon as he walked in. You always greeted him with a small smile, but today, your eyes were downcast, and your posture lacked its usual energy. Something was off.

“You okay?” he asked softly, echoing the same words you’d once said to him.

You glanced up, startled, and then quickly looked away, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a long day.”

Harry frowned, not convinced. “You don’t look fine.” 

Deja vu.

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you let out a shaky breath, your hands pressing into the clay as if grounding yourself. “It’s nothing, really. Just… today’s a hard day.”

He didn’t push, sensing the weight of your words. Instead, he waited, his gaze steady but gentle.

“It’s my fiancé’s birthday,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Or… it would have been.” you sighed “You think you’re okay, and then a date on the calendar reminds you that you’re not.”

He nodded, understanding more than he could express. “I get that.”

You looked at him, your eyes searching his face. “Yeah. I know you do.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching but not uncomfortable. Then, Harry leaned forward slightly. “What was his name?”

Your lips trembled, but you managed a faint smile. “Alex.”

“Tell me about him,” he said, surprising even himself.

You frowned and hesitated, Harry, the same man who snaps at you for even asking if he was okay, was now kind of prying, and some teeny tiny piece of you wanted to give him back the same but again, you weren’t like that, so you took a big breath and began.

“He loved flowers, but he could never remember their names,” you said with a soft chuckle, the first genuine one all day. “He’d walk into the shop, pick up a rose, and call it a daisy just to make me laugh.”

Harry smiled faintly, watching the light return to your face for a second.

“He was clumsy, too. Always bumping into things, dropping pots in the shop. It drove me crazy sometimes, but now I’d give anything to hear that crash and him muttering, ‘I’ll pay for it, I swear.’” You laughed again, but it quickly dissolved into a quiet sigh. “He had this way of making the ordinary feel… extraordinary. You know?”

Harry nodded, his throat tight. “I do.”

You paused, staring at the lump of clay on the table. “Anyway, time is a human-made construct,” you said, shrugging as if brushing off the weight of the conversation. “I try not to think about how long it’s been since he’s gone. What does time even mean, right?”

Harry froze, his breath catching in his chest. The phrase echoed in his mind, so familiar it felt like a whisper from the past.

“What did you just say?” he asked, his voice low, almost disbelieving.

You looked up, confused. “Time is a human-made construct?”

He stared at you, his expression a mix of shock and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Where did you hear that?”

Your brow furrowed. “I don’t know. School? I’ve always said it. It’s just… something I believe, I guess.”

Harry’s heart raced, his mind replaying the countless times Sophia had said those exact words.

Time is a human-made construct.

She used to say it when he stressed over tour schedules or when life felt too fast. “Time is a human-made construct, Harry,” she’d say with a teasing smile, grounding him in a way no one else could.

But he’d never heard anyone else say it. Not like that. Not until now.

He swallowed hard, his eyes dropping to the table. “That’s… something my wife used to say,” he admitted quietly.

Your eyes widened slightly, and you leaned forward. “i…truly don’t know where it came from…what a coincidence….”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice distant. “I’ve never heard anyone else say it. Not like that.”

The silence between you was thick, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like something significant had passed between you—something unexplainable.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s just… unexpected.”

You nodded, unsure what else to say, and the two of you sat in quiet reflection. The moment felt strangely intimate, as if Alex and Sophia had somehow been there with you, bridging a gap.

The following weeks brought a slow but noticeable shift between you and Harry. In class, the tension that once lingered between you had eased… He still wasn’t the most talkative, but he began to share little bits of himself—quiet jokes about his lack of artistic talent, light teasing about your near-perfect vases, and the occasional compliment that seemed to surprise even him.

One evening, as you both worked on your pieces, you nudged a wonky bowl he’d made with your elbow. “You know, if this whole music thing doesn’t work out, you could always sell abstract pottery.”

He laughed—a rare, genuine sound that made you smile. “Abstract, huh? That’s a nice way of saying ‘terrible.’”

“Terrible? No. Unique? Definitely.” You grinned. “Everyone loves a good conversation piece.”

🌷🌻🌷🌻🌷🌻🌷🌻🌷🌻

Harry found himself at a charming little restaurant with his mum, a place she’d insisted they try because of its cozy vibe and homemade desserts.

“You seem… lighter,” his mum said, her eyes studying him carefully.

He paused mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. “Lighter?”

“Yes,” she said with a smile. “Less burdened. It’s good to see.”

He shrugged, not sure how to respond. “Pottery’s been good, I guess. And the people there… they’re nice.”

She tilted her head, intrigued but didn’t ask any other questions.

When their meal ended, Harry asked for the check, and the server brought it over along with something else—a small postcard with the restaurant’s logo on one side and a handwritten phrase on the other.

He glanced at it absently at first, but his breath caught when he read the words:

“The future is waiting—don’t keep it waiting too long.”

Harry stared at the card, his fingers tightening around the edges. It was such a simple phrase, yet it felt like it had been written just for him.

“Harry?” his mum asked, noticing the way he’d gone still.

He looked up at her, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Sorry, dozed off,” he said quickly, slipping the card into his pocket.

As they left the restaurant, his thoughts swirled. The words on the card echoed in his mind, mingling with Sophia’s voice in his memory. For the first time, he felt as though she was urging him forward—not to forget, but to let go of the fear that held him back. ------- Taglist: @hermionelove @mads3502 @gem1712 @haliastyless @lizsogolden

[obvithe-bestsoph]

Hi, hope you’re enjoying ur holidays!! I was wondering if you could write smth about Cubarsí x reader, where they’re just relaxing until reader randomly touches his cheeks and arms, pretty much just enjoying how pretty he is to her:)

Hope this makes sense to you. You can delete this if you don’t like the idea😅 Have a great day!

so pretty that it's distracting.

masterlist requests word count: 930

a/n: i loved writing this one actually lol. genre: fluff. warnings: none.

summary: you spend a sunny afternoon admiring your boyfriend.

The living room was quiet, which was rare considering how often Pau filled it with music or TV or some sort of noise just to have something going on in the background. But right now, it was all still. The curtains fluttered gently with the breeze from the window, and sunlight spilled onto the rug, painting golden shapes on the floor. Pau sat beside you on the couch, legs stretched out, his hand lazily resting on your thigh, thumb tracing little shapes like he didn’t even know he was doing it.

You were both in that peaceful post-lunch haze, bellies full, minds slow. The kind of mood where you could sit in silence for hours and still feel perfectly content.

Pau had his head tipped back against the couch, curls falling messily onto his forehead, eyes half-lidded like he was seconds away from a nap. He looked completely relaxed, hoodie loose and sleeves pushed up to his elbows, skin warm from the sun and the closeness of you.

You looked at him, really looked at him, and something inside you just buzzed. Not in a loud or chaotic way. More like that soft, overwhelming feeling that makes your heart thump a little faster just from existing next to someone like this. He was just… so pretty. In the kind of way that made your breath catch for no real reason at all.

So, without really thinking, you reached out and touched his cheek.

Pau blinked slowly, looking at you in that calm, sleepy way he did when he was content. “What are you doing?” he asked, voice low and thick with laziness, though his lips curled into the beginning of a smile.

“Just…” Your thumb brushed over the edge of his cheekbone. “Appreciating. You’re too pretty, it’s distracting.”

That got a proper smile out of him. He turned his face slightly into your palm, kissing it quickly, the stubble on his jaw catching just a little on your skin. “Distracting, huh?”

You nodded, suddenly feeling bold in the quiet intimacy of the moment. Your fingers slid from his cheek to his jaw, tracing along the bone, then down the smooth column of his throat. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move. Just let you explore like it was something he was used to. Like your hands on him were always welcome, expected even.

“Your skin’s warm,” you murmured, half to yourself.

“You’re warm,” he replied, grabbing your wrist gently and pulling you closer so you were practically in his lap. His voice had a lazy drawl to it, and the corners of his eyes were creased with affection.

You took the opportunity to rest your other hand on his arm, thumb brushing slowly over his forearm. You watched the way the veins shifted under your touch, how the muscles in his bicep twitched just a little. He was so solid. Not in a bulky, gym-obsessed way, but in a quiet strength sort of way. The kind that made you feel safe. Protected. Yours.

“You’re staring,” Pau teased, though his voice stayed soft.

“You’re letting me.”

“I like when you look at me like that.”

You didn’t stop. Your fingers drifted higher, up his arm, past the cuff of his sleeve, onto his bare shoulder. His hoodie had slipped just a bit, letting you brush over his collarbone, warm and golden in the light. You flattened your palm against his chest next, feeling the steady beat of his heart underneath. “I think I’d look at you forever if you let me.”

He tilted his head and grinned, a little crooked, a little amused, a little smug. “So do it. I’m not going anywhere.”

You smiled, leaned in, and pressed a soft kiss to the spot just under his jaw. “You smell good.”

Pau chuckled, his hands moving to your waist now, holding you in place like he didn’t trust you not to slip away. “You’re being kinda handsy today.”

“Don’t act like you mind.”

“Oh, I don’t.” His grin turned mischievous. “Just surprised. You usually pretend like I’m the one who’s obsessed.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes, but you didn’t deny it. Your fingertips trailed back to his cheeks again, both hands cupping his face this time. “I just love your face. Like, actually. Your cheekbones? Crazy. Your jawline? Rude. Your eyelashes? Unnecessary.”

Pau’s eyes crinkled as he laughed. “You’re such a weirdo.”

“Still pretty, though,” you shot back, and leaned in to kiss him - quick, soft, barely there. But he didn’t let you get away with just that. His hand found the back of your neck, keeping you close as he deepened it, slow and warm, like he had all the time in the world to kiss you breathless.

When you finally pulled back, your head was spinning a little, but you didn’t complain. You tucked yourself against his chest, letting your fingers rest on his ribs, his heart still beating steadily under your palm.

He kissed your hair. “You done admiring me, or…”

“Not even close,” you said into his hoodie. “You’re gonna have to sit through this for at least another hour.”

Pau laughed again, and you felt it in his chest more than you heard it. “Then I guess I better get comfortable.”

You grinned, eyes closed, thumb brushing over his skin in slow, lazy patterns again. “Already are.”

And just like that, the room fell quiet again, save for the sound of the breeze through the open window and the slow, even breaths you shared. Peaceful. Warm. Soft. His beauty, your love, the quiet. It was everything.

[reijisteacup]

Hai bbg, how would the diaboys react if their latest bride somehow got popular at school, males too but mostly by the girls. Like they once saw her walking down the hallway with like 4 GIRLS talking to her and she was like happily talking back to them. And yes the diaboys got less attention from the girls but was still a bit popular. She avoids and rejects guys in a rlly rude way btw🙏🙏 (I love lesbian dynamics like this)

OOOP PERIODDD

Sakamaki’s

Shu Sakamaki: He couldn’t care less. Until he does. He starts noticing how the girls gravitate toward you in class. How your hand lingers on their backs when you laugh. How you giggle and whisper in their ears. But when a guy tries the same? You glare. “Back off, Chad.” Shu raises an eyebrow. “…Tch. You’re really into that, huh? Being worshipped by a little cult of fangirls?” He pulls you into his lap during lunch without warning. Arms around your waist. Eyes locked with yours. “If you’re gonna flirt in public,” he yawns, “might as well do it with someone who can actually bite back.”

Reiji Sakamaki: You are an enigma. Refined, eloquent — utterly disinterested in foolish boys — and surrounded by women who admire your poise. He’s impressed. Secretly pleased. Until it crosses the line. When you openly compliment a girl’s perfume and make her blush, Reiji narrows his eyes. He waits until you're alone, then coolly states, “You seem rather... fond of female company.” You raise a brow. “And?” He adjusts his glasses. “Then I shall remind you who owns your time — and your throat.” Cue a jealous kiss, pressed hard into your skin, collarbone bruising under his gloves.

Laito Sakamaki: He loves it. At first. “Oh~? Bitch-chan’s a ladykiller now?” he teases, eyes gleaming. “Should I be worried~?” But then he sees you. Really sees you. Surrounded by pink-cheeked schoolgirls, gently braiding one’s hair, giving another a piece of candy. And when a boy tries to join in, you shut him down without even looking. Something dark coils in Laito’s chest. “You like teasing girls, hm~? How sweet…” That night, he sneaks into your bed. “But you’re mine, mein liebling. No matter how you flirt.”

Kanato Sakamaki: Absolutely unhinged. “Why do they keep TOUCHING YOU?! Why do they get to hold your hand?!” Kanato doesn’t care that they’re girls. He just sees them as competition. “She smiled at you,” he growls at one of your friends. “I saw it. That’s MINE.” You try to explain. “Kanato, I’m not flirting—” “DO YOU LOVE HER?!” It’s dramatic. Possessive. He drags you into his arms like a porcelain doll and sulks for hours. You end up promising to sing him a love song just to calm him down.

Ayato Sakamaki: “Oi! Oi oi oi! What’s with all the girls around you lately?!” He’s red-faced, yelling, ruffled. “Are you some kinda girl magnet now?! You’re mine, Chichinashi!” He tries to insert himself into your little group, demanding attention. He’ll throw his arm over your shoulder, brag loudly, flirt in front of your girl-friends. But when a guy so much as glances your way: Ayato: “You tryna die, huh? That’s my girl, dumbass.” Lowkey? He’s so proud of you. But he needs constant reassurance. Loudly. And daily.

Subaru Sakamaki: Short-circuiting. He walks into the courtyard and sees you surrounded by soft giggling girls, handing out homemade cookies. One feeds you a bite. You smile. His brain: ❌💥❓❗🧍‍♂️ “…Tch. What the hell is this?” He drags you aside with a sharp tug on your sleeve. “You ignoring guys now? What, not enough drama?” When you say, “I like girls better,” his eyes widen. “Wha—!? But— You— That doesn’t—” He shuts down. Spends the rest of the day brooding in a corner, face burning. Later, he stammers, “I-I don’t care if you flirt with girls. Just don’t forget about me, okay?”

Mukami’s

Ruki Mukami: He watches with hawk-like precision. You’re... popular. But only among the girls. Gentle touches. Secret glances. Smiles. He can’t decide if he’s intrigued or jealous. “You avoid every male in your orbit,” he notes. “But welcome these girls with open arms.” You nod. “They’re nicer. Simpler.” He smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Then let me remind you why you need not seek affection elsewhere.” Cue a sharp bite on your collarbone — a visible mark. His warning to everyone, regardless of gender.

Kou Mukami: At first? He thinks it’s adorable. “Aw~ M-Neko-chan’s got a fan club~” But when you skip lunch to hang out with your favorite girl-friend? He’s sulking. “Are you replacing me…?” he pouts, pushing his sunglasses up. You tease him. “Jealous of a girl?” He gasps dramatically. “YES. Because SHE doesn’t get you flustered like I do~” He starts mimicking you: braiding his hair, wearing pastels, acting “sooo soft.” Just to prove he can out-girl your girls. …He kind of nails it.

Yuma Mukami: “You got a whole girl gang now?” He’s amused. But then he sees one of them grab your hand. Hold it. Whisper something in your ear. You blush. He snaps a pencil in half. “Oi, Sow… you swingin’ the other way or what?” You laugh. “Maybe.” He yanks you into his arms and growls, “Well ya better swing back, or I’ll start showin’ you why men like me exist.”

Azusa Mukami: Doesn’t understand it at first. “Why… do girls… follow you?” You say, “They just like me. I like them too. They’re soft.” He tilts his head. “Softer… than me?” You wrap his hands in yours. “You’re soft in your own way.” He beams. Later, when one of the girls hugs you, he gets oddly territorial. “…That’s my safe place,” he mutters. “You can’t take her.” He carves a tiny heart with your initials on his skin. “Proof… you’re mine.”

Tsukinami’s

Carla Tsukinami: “You appear… adored,” he notes, watching you surrounded by girls. He doesn’t comment. Doesn’t seem angry. But later, he grips your wrist. Hard. “You reject every male advance… yet allow women to toy with your affections?” You reply calmly. “Because they don’t try to control me.” Carla goes still. Then smirks. “Then I will be softer with my chains.” That night, he kisses your knuckles and murmurs, “No woman, no man… no god… will replace me.”

Shin Tsukinami: Jealous as hell. “Why the hell are you always with those chicks?! I didn’t claim you so you could go make a sorority!” You raise an eyebrow. “What, you think I’m cheating with a girl?” “…I DON’T KNOW MAYBE?!” Shin is very loud, very unhinged, and very confused by how flustered he gets when he sees you laughing with another girl. He starts showing up to your little girl-gatherings. “Y/N’s mine, btw. Just thought I’d say it out loud. Carry on.” Still… he watches you with a strange glint in his eye. You’re kind of hot when you’re the heartthrob.