#because he literally have no arms or legs. if he falls he breaks

[arttsuka]

Augustus: *throwing a tantrum* "DAD WHY AM I LIKE THIS"

Octavius: "Well, I didn't sculpt you but it seems they ran out of marble."

Augustus: "DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH IT STINKS HAVING NO HANDS"

Jed: "Or legs."

Octavius: "That's not helping."

Omg you can't just say that Jed!

[dirt-str1der]

Love the thought of kiryu losing nishikiyamas lighter fucking instantly after he gave it to him. Like he leaves it in the car and nishiki is nice enough to re-gift it to him when they meet up again and then two weeks after that whole fiasco kiryu loses it again and nishiki just buys him those cheap packs of like fifty plastic lighters because this is why they cant have nice things and he hates (loves) him so much

[anantaru]

genshin man (your choice ofc) overstimulating reader ☺️🫵🏻☺️🫵🏻

・✶ ｡ including — alhaitham, kinich ☁︎ synopsis — he likes overstimulating his darling, he loves it, even <3

warnings — overstimulation, sweet talks with alhaitham <3 teasing genshin man, kinich is a little mean, fem! reader

— alhaitham

"if you could only see yourself the way i see you," alhaitham murmurs as his lips brush against your ear ever so tenderly— and his voice was like a soothing balm hovering on top of you, grounding you in the present moment even as your senses spiraled into near insanity.

with purpose, his hands move and explore your writhing skin, discovering every sensitive spot on your body as his hips thrust with vigor, the messy, wet squelches of your cunt making you arch your back as the bubble inside your belly threatens to pop.

with alhaitham, there was no rush in his actions, only a deep, profound care to give you the most intense pleasure until your body borders on overstimulation and love. his fingertips trace delicate patterns over your skin as his eyes, filled with an intense yet tender focus, watch how your legs shake and quiver around his narrow waist.

you continue to arch into his touch and whimper when you catch his lips curve into a small smile each time your pussy squeezes him, his gaze never leaving your face. he wanted, no, needed to see every expression you made, every moment of pleasure he could draw from you until you lose control of yourself, the feeling of his erection pressing into you over and over being unlike anything profanely possible.

"just let go for me, yeah?" he whispers, his voice like a husky command that sent a cold shiver down the entirety of your spine, "i'm with you, here with you," as he continues to grind his cock into you, the lazy, yet skilled drags of his shaft rushing around your spongey walls as you mewl out his name.

there was nothing you could do other than cling to his shoulders, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the sensations were beginning to turn overwhelming, each touch, each kiss, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you and feeling like a mountain was tied against your frame, looming and threatening to crush you.

his hands moved lower to find your swollen clit to pinch and press into the little pearl before rubbing you fiercely as it that had you crying out in deep pleasure until you just couldn't take it anymore.

your body felt so tense, the pleasure building to its pinnacle as you messily released all over his cock, intense waves of pleasure bursting through you as you simply shattered, your body convulsing in his strong arms as alhaitham held you through it all, his merciless touch on your clit never faltering as he rubbed you through your blissful orgasm.

— kinich

kinich's eyes sparkled with mischief as he traced a finger down your arm, his touch light and teasing while his grin was somewhat playful, quite menacing as well if being honest, yet promising a night of unrestrained pleasure until he could see you fall apart for him.

"you look so tempting to me, i can't wait to feel you over and over and over," the man purred, his voice resembling a seductive whisper as you leaned into his warmth, his breath hot against your neck as he kissed a trail down to your collarbone before biting into your flesh.

it's obvious he knows exactly how to drive you wild, how to make you beg and cry.

in a matter of seconds, you tremble underneath him, toes curled and your hips grinding up so your clit could rub into his pelvis as kinich chuckled at your eagerness, finding it rather amusing as it fueled the ego inside of him, "patience, ever heard of it, hmm?" he teases as his lips brush against your ear, "don't you realize we have all night?"

his fingers induce electric bolts into you as they danced over your skin with ease, never lingering in one spot for too long as he found it to be the most pleasurable if he was able to tease you until you would literally break— because you see, each touch was a tantalizing promise of the pleasure to come, leaving you breathless and yearning for more and kinich utterly adored that.

"how odd, you're so sensitive there," he remarks with a giggle as he messily thrusts into your cunt before grinding his hips down whenever he was fully inside, "i wonder why," as his voice turned in a husky whisper, his eyes meeting yours in a trice, a spark of amusement and desire in their depths and taking you by surprise.

"ugh, i love seeing you like this, so vulnerable,"

kinich's grin was wicked, insane, his eyes never leaving yours as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. "more, come on," he whispers, "i want to see you fall apart for me, you think you can do that?"

and with a final, teasing thrust— so strong, in fact, that it made your boobs jiggle up and down, he sent you over the edge, your voice dying in your throat before you felt something pop in your stomach and fuck, it was so effortlessly quick like he didn't even need to try to make you feel this way.

©2024 anantaru  do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[justauthoring]

not a cuddler, then?

requested! -> uhh can i ask for comfort cuddles with sanemi? i feel like I'd would be sooo adorable because he's not really this tpye, but he would try for is love requested by! -> anonymous

a/n -> him and genya do be my babies

(also, not spell checked!)

pairing -> sanemi shinazugawa x f!reader

he was stiff against your back, arms locked around you tense and frozen in place.

the laugh that bubbled from your throat was, truthfully and to your defence, out of your control.

"what?" sanemi growls from behind you; you feel his chest rumble against your back and the laughter bubbles up all over again. sweet, melodic giggles leave your lips as sanemi stares behind you, thoroughly offended and embarrassed, mouth left agape. "fucking what?"

when you simply continue to just laugh, sanemi takes matters into his own hands; literally. his much larger hands grip you by your hips, lifting you and forcing you to face him. you're sit in his lap, legs straddling his own, and somewhere along the way your hands had moved to cover your lips, leaving you peaking through them hesitantly at sanemi's rather sour face.

"oi," he calls, growing further frustrated at your lack of reply to him. taking your hands by the wrists, he pulls them away from your face, revealing the shit-eating grin that had been hidden behind them. he narrows his eyes. "what the fuck is so funny?"

biting your lip, you let your arms fall; "you."

and pauses a moment, as if believe he'd heard you wrong before the silence echoes and realizes no, he definitely heard you right. "me?" he echoes, jerking back.

you nod. "you," you confirm. then, feeling pity for him adn your teasing, you just take his hand in yours, threading your fingers and squeeze. "we don't have to cuddle if you don't want to, sanemi."

"who said i didn't like cuddling?"

"no one," you shrug; "but it's pretty clear."

and you're not sure how he does it, but sanemi actually has the audacity to look surprised at that.

"sanemi," you sigh, "you were as stiff as a board. it's okay."

pulling you closer by your hips, sanemi shakes his head. "it's not that i don't like cuddling," he admits, "it's just... i'm not used to it. and... well—..."

he cuts himself off, his words drifting as he shifts his gaze, refusing to meet your own. you raise a brow at the action, confused, quick to bend to move back into his line of vision with a gentle smile. "i'm sorry for laughing," you offer, "but you can tell me. i won't laugh, promise."

he eyes you like he doesn't believe you, but a minute more of your unwavering stare and sanemi is caving like he always seems to be when it concerns you.

"...i'm scared i'm going to hurt you."

your eyes widen as your face falls, having never expected such a honest admission. your relationship with sanemi was still quite new and the both of you were exploring what boundaries you were comfortable breaking and what ones you weren't yet.

you knew sanemi was a rather hot-headed man, but he'd never been anything but kind to you. sure, he could be crude and his words had more bite then others, but you knew it never held any malious; not towards you at least.

besides, his actions had never been anything but gentle.

and now, if you thought about it, you guess you could say too gentle at times. it was clear to you now, why.

stretching his palms in front of him, sanemi frowns; "all i've ever done is hurt people... i don't know how to love. and i don't want to hurt you by accident."

shaking your head, you're quick to set your hands over his own, pulling them and the scars that rest there away from his gaze; instead, you redirect his gaze back on you. smiling gently, you guide his hands to your waist.

"you could never hurt me, sanemi," you assure. "i trust you wholeheartedly."

and his lips part, as if wanting to argue.

you don't give him the chance.

"you've never been anything but gentle with me," you express earnestly. "soft and warm and gentle. we don't have to cuddle until you're comfortable, but just being in your arms is enough to make me feel safe."

that seems to catch his attention.

"safe?" he questions, "you feel safe in my arms?"

"always."

"oh."

you grin, wide and genuine and sanemi feels his resolve fading as he takes you in, sat on his lap, and the desire to have you, to touch you grows stronger by the second. it was always a drifting want, one he'd be able to ignore, but now?

now he just wants to hold you close.

leaning forward, sanemi takes you by the waist, spinning you back around until your back is pressed against his chest once more. his arm holds you around the front of your stomach, keeping you close as his face presses into the crook of your neck.

and this time the laugh that leaves your lips sounds like music to sanemi's ears as you cuddle back into him in return, nudging him with your nose along the cheek before pressing a kiss just after.

sanemi realizes, as the moments pass by, that you sink into him without a single care in the world and not a trace of fear. you lean into his grasp and hold him back with just as much love and sanemi thinks then, he loves cuddling.

if it's with you.

[triptuckers]

I've got you - percy jackson

Request: yeah! "percy x fem!reader are on an unofficial quest together just before the big titan war (so set just before last olympian). idk what the quest is but basically reader gets injured during a fight w a bunch of monsters and percy goes a little crazy and does everything he can to protect her and once all the monsters are dead he’s super gentle and sweet w her??" Pairing:  Percy Jackson x reader Summary:  you're busy battling a handful of monsters when for a second it looks as if it might be your last fight. luckily, percy is there Warnings:  fighting, mentions of blood, injuries, swearing, angst Word count:  1K A/N: the show creators need to add grover's song from ep3 to spotify because it's been stuck in my head since wednesday. thanks for your request, enjoy!

gods forbid you're ever on a quiet quest.

you can't wait to get this over with so you can go back to camp and actually get a decent amount of undisturbed sleep.

the other kids at camp are probably spending their afternoon relaxing, or polishing their weapons, or sitting by the lake, or literally anything that's peaceful. not you and percy.

you're busy getting rid of at least half a dozen monsters.

percy's is in the distance, fighting his way through a couple of monsters. he's a blur of movement and you occasionally hear him curse or make a sound.

you know percy can handle himself. but it doesn't stop you from looking over your shoulder every once in a while, to check on him.

the second time you try to catch a glimpse of percy, it's a mistake.

you feel something sharp sink into your side.

with one swing of your sword you decapitate the monster, but not before his fang breaks off, still stuck in your leg.

'oh fuck.' you mutter as you see blood start to gush out of the wound around the fang.

but there's no time to rest. another monster lashes out at you, raking his claws through your shoulder.

you yell out in pain, getting percy's attention.

you drive your sword through the monster just as percy starts running toward you.

'fuck.' you mutter, looking at your leg.

well, that doesn't look good. you know demigods don't live long. but you would have liked some more time with percy. preferably when you don't have to fight monsters.

'y/n!' yells percy, who has nearly reached you.

'percy...' you say as he catches you before you fall to the ground.

'shit, hold on.' says percy. he carefully lowers you to the ground in his arms. there's a panicked look in his eyes as he looks at your leg.

he quickly reaches down and tears off a piece of his shirt.

'percy!' you yell, looking at a monster that's running towards the two of you at full speed.

with one swift motion, percy slices through the monster with his sword, then he drops it and turns back to you.

he pulls you towards him and wraps the piece of his shirt around your thigh, above your wound.

'how many behind me?' he says.

you look over his shoulder, quickly counting the monsters that are making their way to you. it doesn't look good. 'seven.'

'sorry.'

'wait, for what-'

you're cut off as percy pulls the knot tight, sending a sharp pain through your leg.

'fuck! percy!' you curse.

'I said sorry. stay here do not pull that out.' says percy, pointing at the fang that's still stuck in your leg. he presses a quick kiss to your forehead before turning around and charging the monsters.

you knew percy could fight but holy shit.

it's like he moves with unnatural speed as he works his way through the monsters, making sure none of them slip past him to you.

even more so, he makes it look easy. almost god-like.

when you overheard someone from your cabin say that he's the most powerful demigod of your generation, you thought "sure he's a poseidon kid, it makes sense". you hadn't really thought much of it.

to you percy had always been, well, percy.

he always makes you laugh with bad jokes and saves you a spot at the campfire. he'll walk with you to your cabin if it's raining so you wouldn't get soaked. he prefers to sleep with you next to him, claiming it's so he won't get nightmares, but you know it's because he just wants to use you as his pillow.

but as you see him fighting off the monsters, lashing out and stabbing them like it's nothing, you realise what others see when they look at him.

suddenly percy is in front of you again, brushing monster dust off of his shoulder like it's no big deal.

'you okay?' he says, kneeling in front of you. he reaches out to gently cup your face.

you're silent as you look at him.

'y/n?' he says, looking you in your eyes, brows furrowed.

'did I mention I'm like, really really in love with you?' you say.

percy smiles briefly. 'yeah you've mentioned it.' he says. 'how are you feeling?'

'lucky to have you on my side.'

'I meant your leg, y/n.' he says, moving so he can inspect your leg.

'still hurts.'

'that shoulder also looks bad.' says percy. 'listen, I'll pull the fang out and give you nectar but it will still hurt, okay? then we'll look at your shoulder.'

'alright, make it quick.'

percy nods, then hands you some nectar.

'want me to count down?' he asks.

you nod, reaching out to take one of his hands in yours.

percy wraps his free hand around the fang.

you take a deep breath and nod at percy.

percy looks you in the eye and gives you an encouraging smile. 'sorry in advance. 3... 2... 1!'

with one swift motion he pulls the fang out. blood gushes out of the wound and the pain is unbearable. you close your eyes and feel how percy gently pushes the nectar to you and you take a sip.

it tastes like the drink sally made for you when you visited percy's home for the first time.

you keep your eyes closed as you wait for the pain to go away. you can feel percy rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, comforting you.

'it's already helping.' says percy softly.

you reach out and wrap your arms around percy.

'it's okay. I've got you.' says percy, holding you close. 'we can sit here for a while, but then we have to keep moving, okay?'

'okay.' you say, feeling percy press a kiss to your forehead.

you're really glad percy's here with you. if it weren't for him, you're not sure you would have made it back to camp in one piece, or at all.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit/Max

[won4kiss]

── ❝ ꒰ 𝒯𝐻𝐸𝑌 𝑆𝐴𝑌 𝑆𝑂𝑀𝐸𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐻𝑈𝑅𝑇𝐹𝑈𝐿 𝐷𝑈𝑅𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐴𝑁 𝒜𝑅𝐺𝑈𝑀𝐸𝑁𝑇 .ᐟㅤ ៸៸﹙ 엔하이픈 ﹚ ᶻ𐰁

GENRE ៸៸ angst ៸ maknae line ﹔ SYPNOSIS┆in which they hurt your feelings during an argument .ᐟㅤ ꒰ WORD COUNT﹕1kish per member꒱── 𝓦ARNING(S) not edited ៸ arguing ៸ pet names ៸ mean things being said ៸ . ݁ ✦ ݁ . ⊱ LIBRARY . . . ﹕LUNA 💭 — so close to dropping out:3 𖥔 ݁˖ hyung line !

୨୧ ‎김선우 ── 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎

the soft rhythm of rain pattering against the window did little to soothe the tension that currently filled the air. the usually warm and inviting space between you and sunoo felt cold now, filled with unspoken words and lingering frustration.

you sat on the couch, your arms crossed, staring at the floor, trying to process what had just happened.

sunoo, usually the one to lighten the mood with a smile or playful tendencies, was pacing back and forth, his face hardened with a rare expression of anger.

the argument had started small—about how distant he had been lately, how he seemed to brush off your attempts to talk. you hadn’t expected him at all to lash out the way he had.

“i just don’t understand why you have to make everything about you,” sunoo snapped, stopping in his tracks to face you. his words were like a slap to the face, sharp and cutting.

you blinked in shock, the air knocked out of your lungs for a moment. sunoo had never spoken to you like this before. “what?” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you tried to comprehend the seriousness of his words. ─── 𝘔𝘖𝘙𝘌 𝘜𝘕𝘋𝘌𝘙 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘊𝘜𝘛 !

sunoo ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident in the way his fingers tugged at the strands.

“literally every single time something happens, it’s always about your feelings, your needs. you don’t think about how i’m feeling, how much pressure i’m under.”

you swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing as his words sunk in. “that’s not fair, sunoo..” you said, your voice trembling.

“i do care about you, sunoo. i’ve been trying to be there for you, but you— you keep pushing me away, what else do you want me to do?”

his eyes flickered with something—regret, maybe—but it was quickly replaced by the same hardened expression. “maybe i’m pushing you away because i can’t deal with everything right now, i can’t be what you need me to be.”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you felt tears welling up in your eyes. you had always known sunoo to be gentle, always considerate of your feelings.

hearing him say something so hurtful felt like the ground had shifted beneath you, like you didn’t recognize the person you were talking to anymore.

“so what? you’re just going to shut me out? push me away because it’s easier than dealing with your feelings?”

sunoo’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, you could see the walls he had put up to protect himself. but instead of softening, he shook his head, the frustration still evident in his voice.

“maybe i just need space,” he said coldly. “if you used your brain—maybe you’d realize that i just can’t handle being around you right now.”

the room fell into an eery silence, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. you felt like your heart had been ripped out of your chest, and stomped on. you stood up, your legs shaky as you tried to steady yourself.

“if that’s really how you feel,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath,

“then maybe we need to take a break.”

sunoo’s eyes widened at your words, and for a split second, the anger on his face was replaced by fear.

“w-wait,” he said, his voice softening, almost panicked. “that’s not what i meant, y/n. i just… i’m just frustrated.”

you shook your head, wiping at the tears that had started to fall down your cheeks. “you don’t get to take it back now, sunoo. you don’t get to say something like that and take it back— pretend it didn’t happen, pretend it didn’t hurt.”

he looked at you, his expression crumbling as he realized just how severe this was—how badly he had messed up.

the anger and frustration that had fueled the argument faded, replaced by regret and a deep sense of guilt.

he took a small step toward you, his hand reaching out as if to close the distance between you. “y/n, please,” he whispered, his voice filled with desperation. “i didn’t mean it. i’m so sorry.”

you looked away, not wanting to let him see how much his words had affected you. but you couldn’t ignore the way his voice cracked, the way his eyes pleaded with you to forgive him.

slowly, you turned back to face him, your heart aching at the sight of his tear-filled eyes.

“i never wanted to hurt you,” sunoo whispered, his voice barely above a whisper now. he took another step closer, his hand finally finding yours.

his touch was gentle, hesitant, as if he was afraid you might pull away. “i was just frustrated, overwhelmed. but that’s no excuse for the things i said.”

you let out a shaky breath, your heart softening at his words. his eyes, usually so full of light and warmth, were now clouded with regret and sorrow.

he squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing gesture.

“i love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “i love you so much, and the last thing i want is to push you away. i’ve just been struggling lately, and i didn’t know how to talk to you about it— but i need you. i can’t do this alone.”

you looked up at him, your tears mixing with his as he leaned his forehead against yours. his breath was warm against your skin, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you.

“i’m sorry too,” you whispered, your voice soft and steady. “i shouldn’t have pushed you to talk when you weren’t ready. but i’m here for you, sunoo. i always will be.”

he closed his eyes, a soft, relieved smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest.

“thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain outside.

“thank you for not giving up on me.”

and as you stood there in his embrace, the warmth of his body surrounding you, you knew that no matter what, you would always find your way back to each other.

the quiet comfort of knowing that your love for each other was stronger than any argument, any painful words was more than anything.

୨୧ ‎양정원 ── 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍

the slam of the door echoed through the room, cutting through the silence like a blade— jungwon had never been the one to lose his temper, always calm and collected even in the most stressful of situations.

but tonight, something had snapped. you sat on the edge of the bed, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you tried to process what had just happened.

jungwon stood by the door, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his breathing heavy with frustration.

his face was flushed with red cheeks— visible anger, a sharp contrast to the gentle leader you were so used to.

he had been distant for weeks, buried in the pressures of his responsibilities, and when you had finally attempted to confront him about it, things had quickly spiraled out of control.

“i don’t need you telling me how to handle my problems!” he had yelled, his voice louder than you ever heard it before. the words had hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless and heartbroken.

you had stood there in shock, unable to believe that the person you loved, the person who had always been your source of comfort, could say something so hurtful.

“jungwon,” you had whispered, your voice trembling, “i’m— i’m just trying to help.”

but he had shaken his head in rejection, his eyes cold and distant. “i don’t need your help,” he had snapped. “i can handle this on my own, i’m not a child!”

those words had cut deeper than you wanted to admit, and for a moment, you had considered walking out of the room, leaving him to cool off on his own.

but something had stopped you—maybe it was the look in his eyes, the way they flickered with a visible regret even as he tried to hold on to his anger.

now, the silence between you was heavy, filled with the weight of everything that had been said.

you sat there, your heart aching with the pain of his rejection, wondering if this was the moment that everything would come crumbling apart.

jungwon’s shoulders slumped as he let out a heavy sigh, the anger slowly draining from his body as if something had snapped him back to his senses.

he turned to face you, his expression softening as he saw the hurt in your eyes. “y/n,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, “i’m.. sorry.”

you looked up at him, your eyes searching his face for any sign of the warmth that you had grown so accustomed to.

he took a hesitant step towards you, his hand reaching out as if to close the distance between you.

“i didn’t mean it baby,” he continued, his voice filled with regret. “i was angry, and i said things i didn’t mean.”

you swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. “you said you didn’t need me,” you whispered, your voice trembling with sadness.

“is that how you really feel? be honest with me, please jungwon..”

jungwon’s eyes widened in shock, his face paling as he realized the gravity of what he had said.

he rushed over to you, dropping to his knees in front of you as he took your hands in his, holding them tightly.

“no,” he said quickly, his voice urgent. “no, y/n—that’s not how i feel at all. i need you, y/n. i need you more than anything.”

you looked down at him, your heart aching as you saw the desperation in his eyes. he squeezed your hands gently, his voice softening as he continued.

“i’ve just been so overwhelmed lately, and i didn’t know how to deal with it. but that’s no excuse for the way i treated you. you’ve always been there for me, and i took that for granted. i’m so sorry.”

tears welled up in your eyes as you listened carefully to his words, your heart softening at the sincerity in his voice.

you could see how much he regretted what he had said, and as he looked up at you, his eyes filled with guilt and love, you knew that he meant every word. “i don’t want to fight with you anymore,” you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. “i just want us to be okay.”

jungwon nodded, his eyes filled with determination as he leaned closer to you, resting his forehead gently against yours.

“we will be,” he promised softly, his breath warm against your skin. “i’ll make sure of it. i love you, y/n. i never want to hurt you again.”

you closed your eyes, the warmth of his presence slowly easing the tension in your body. you leaned into his touch, allowing yourself to believe in the promise he had made.

“i love you too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

jungwon smiled softly, his hands wrapping around your waist as he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest.

and as you rested your head against him, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, you knew that the two of you would be okay.

୨୧ ‎西村 力 ── 𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈

the living room was bathed in a warm, soft light, the kind that made everything seem cozy and inviting.

riki was lounging comfortably on the couch, his posture relaxed as he swiped through his phone. you had been looking forward to this evening with him, hoping for a break from the long, stressful day at work.

you needed a moment to unwind, to be taken care of, and maybe find comfort in riki's company as you often usually did.

you started explaining a story about your day, one that had been particularly frustrating.

you had been in a meeting when you’d accidentally spilled coffee all over your blouse, and the embarrassment had been the last straw in an already horrendous day.

as you spoke, you tried to find some humor in the story, hoping that a bit of laughter would help lift your dull spirit.

riki looked up from his phone, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “seriously?” he said, his voice dripping with amusement.

“you’re so clumsy— it’s like you’re a walking disaster. what’s next? tripping over your own feet and traumatizing your boss next?”

the words felt had felt like salt on an open wound. what was meant to be a lighthearted moment turned into a public shaming, and the frustration from your day turned into a deep, gnawing hurt.

you tried to laugh it off, but it came out as more of a strained sound. “yeah, i guess i’m just having a bad day,” you said, your voice lacking its usual warmth.

riki didn’t seem to notice your discomfort. instead, he leaned back, clearly enjoying his own joke.

“you know,” he said, his tone still teasing, “it’s not like this is the first time, you’re always doing stuff like this— maybe you should get used to it.”

the comment stung sharply, more than he probably realized. your face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger.

it was as if his words were mocking your genuine feelings of frustration and helplessness. “riki, that’s really not funny,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“i’m already feeling pretty down about today.”

he looked at you with a raised eyebrow, as if he were surprised by your reaction. “come on, it’s just a joke,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly.

“why are you making such a big deal out of it?”

the dismissiveness in his tone was like a slap to the face. you felt your chest tighten, the hurt from his words mixing with the frustration of your day.

“it’s not just about this joke,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “it’s how you always do this. you think it’s okay to make fun of me all the time, but it’s not.”

riki’s expression quickly shifted from amusement to irritation. he sat up straighter, his casual demeanor replaced by a defensive stance.

“seriously?” he said, his tone growing sharper. “you’re overreacting. i’m just trying to lighten the mood, and you’re taking it way too personally.”

the weight of his words was crushing. you stood up abruptly, unable to sit still any longer, the tears you had been holding back now threatening to spill.

“it’s not just about this one time, riki,” you said, your voice rising with the intensity of your emotions.

“it’s a pattern— you make these jokes, and it feels like you don’t care about how your words affect me. i’m trying to share my feelings, and all i get is more ridicule, of course— jokes are fine but sometimes you go way too far..”

riki’s eyes flashed with a mixture of frustration and confusion. “so what, you want me to just be serious all the time?” he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of annoyance.

“you know i’m not like that. i thought we had a sense of humor about these things.”

the hurt was beginning to feel overwhelming, and you could feel the tears beginning to fall. “it’s not about being serious all the time,” you said, your voice cracking.

“it’s about respect. i need to feel like my feelings matter, not like they’re just something for you to joke about.”

riki’s expression softened as he saw the tears in your eyes. his defensiveness began to fade, replaced by a genuine look of remorse.

“i didn’t realize it was this serious,” he said quietly, running a hand through his hair as if trying to process your words.

“i thought i was just being funny.. i never meant to hurt you.”

you shook your head, trying to wipe away the glossy tears that had begun to fall down your cheeks.

“it’s not just about tonight,” you said, your voice filled with pain. “it’s about how you often make these ‘jokes’— they make me feel like my feelings aren’t valid. i need you to understand that your words can have a real impact on me, especially since your opinion is the only one i care for.”

riki took a deep breath, stepping closer to you. his face was a mix of guilt and concern, and he reached out to gently take your hands in his.

“i’m really sorry,” he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. “i didn’t mean to make you feel this way.. i see now that i’ve been crossing a line. i thought i was just teasing, but i can see how it came across— it was never my intention to hurt you baby..”

you looked up at him, seeing the genuine regret in his eyes. his earlier irritation had been replaced by a heartfelt apology, and you could feel the weight of the argument disappearing.

“thank you for understanding, ki..” you said quietly. “i just need us to communicate better, to be more considerate of each other’s feelings.”

riki nodded, his expression soft as he squeezed your hands gently. “i promise,” he said, his voice steady.

“i’ll be more mindful of what i say—i never want to be the reason you’re upset. i care about you too much for that.”

you took a breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. riki pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if to offer reassurance.

his embrace was warm and comforting, a visible contrast to the sharp words that had been exchanged earlier.

“i’m really sorry for what i said,” he murmured into your hair, his voice filled with regret.

“i never meant to hurt you. i’ll work on being more considerate and understanding.”

you rested your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you as you tried to calm the racing thoughts lingering in your head.

“i love you, riki,” you whispered, your voice soft and vulnerable. “i think we just need to be more in touch with each other’s feelings, to be supportive in ways that really matter.”

riki pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his touch comforting as he continued to hold you close. “i love you too,” he said softly.

“and i promise to be more mindful of how i speak to you— i never want to make you feel like your feelings aren’t valid.”

as you stood there in riki’s embrace, the tension between you disappeared, replaced by a deeper understanding and connection.

the situation had been difficult for the both of you, but it had also led to the two of you growing closer— you knew that despite the hurtful moments and misunderstandings, your relationship would continue blossoming.

© won4kiss 2024

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[drewmeows]

i am once again thinking about cowboy/lumberjack/farmer/general blue collar worker logan and the sweet young thing that is his boss' daughter...

cw: explicit smut MDNI, unprotected piv, creampie, implied virginity loss, implied age gap, afab reader wears a dress, logan refers to her as 'princess' 'sweetheart', wrote this on my phone and did not edit it amen, if i missed any tags please lmk!

wc: 693 words

"This is so- fuck- so wrong, sweetheart..." His guttural grunt made your eyes flutter shut and a shudder run down your spine and straight to your pussy, "Ruinin' ya like this, what would your daddy think, huh?"

You couldn't reply even if you wanted to, to try to convince Logan this only felt right, and who gives a shit what anyone else thinks. Instead your mind was a puddle at your feet. Or it would be, but he had you hiked onto the wall of the barn, your legs wrapped around his waist.

Your sundress was pushed up and over your tits so his hands could roughly grope them when he had the chance.

You simply rested your sweaty forehead on his shoulder, clutching his arms tightly as he rutted up into you. "Lo- Logan!" A squeal wrought from your chest as he shifted slightly, pulling you down further on his cock as one of his hands abandoned your tit to rub tight circles on your swollen clit.

Just as you went to beg for more he hit the gummy spot inside you that had your vision spanned with black dots. Logan grinned at you, feeling how awfully close to the edge he'd brought you.

"Better princess? Tha' the spot that's gonna make my sweet girl come?" You could only marvel at how not out of breath he sounded, almost unaffected by your damn near literal roll in the hay that unless you didn't have his cock throbbing inside of you and feel how taut his muscles were, you'd think this was just another day for him.

You nodded and pulled your head back, a whine caught in your throat at the debauched look of his hair tousled and flannel pushed down his shoulders. You dipped in for a kiss and Logan pulled back, a mischievous look on his face, "What's that, sweetheart? Gotta use your- ngh- words."

"Fuck! Want a kiss, please, please-" You continue to beg, wanton moans and cries slipping from your lips before he finally captures your mouth with his.

It's wet and barely louder than the slick sounds of your cunt as he fucks up into you at that same breakneck speed. Before Logan even goes to break the kiss, your high hits.

A keening noise rises high in your throat, met by Logan's grunt as you gush around him. He reared back, desperate to see your orgasm contort your face with pleasure.

All through it, he continues to rut into you, keeping that oh so steady pace that had you whimpering with overstimulation. Your nails dug deep enough into his biceps to draw blood, the feeling causing his eyes to roll slightly.

"Keep doin' that n squeezing me like that, and I'm gonna cum, princess," He spoke it as if it was a threat but all you heard was salvation. You nodded and looked him right in the eyes.

With a hand moving up to grip the back of his head of hair, "Wan' you to fill me up, please, Lo? Please- I need it-" A soft gasp escaping your lips once more as tears filled your eyes, pain and pleasure mixing in all the overwhelming new feelings.

It seemed that was all the permission he needed, a hoarse groan your only warning before he buried himself deep and came inside your cunt, warming you from the inside out as heat burns your cheeks.

Logan pants against your shoulder, small and inconsequential murmurs of praise falling from his mouth as you struggle to gain the ability to breathe much less speak again.

Hours later when you've come back around to your senses while picking a splinter of wood from the barn out of your back, you'll look back on this moment and wonder why it took you so damn long to finally make a move on your father's worker.

Because as you slip down from his waist and let your dress fall down to your knees- which are weak as jelly, wavering underneath you- and Logan's arm slides around your waist with a reserved smile, propping you up against him, you swear you can feel yourself falling anyways.

[beenbaanbuun]

tits, ass or thighs w/ ateez

words - 🤠

genre - fluff/smut

warnings - groping (consensual), size kink (yunho), manhandling (yunho, kind of yeosang), kind of somnophilia in sans, mingi is always eating pussy in my fics…, spanking (mingi and wooyoung), i think that’s the major ones…

kim hongjoong - ass

so my theory is that hongjoong likes having you on his lap; more specifically, straddling his lap. whether that’s during sex, cuddling, or just to chat, he wants you sitting on his thighs, staring into his eyes. of course, half of it is about the intimacy of it all - face to face, eye to eye, all that good stuff - but he can’t deny that he really does love the way it gives him the perfect opportunity to grope your ass.

his arms are always wrapped around you to hold you close, and your ass is just the natural place his hands fall. you can’t expect him not to cop a feel when his hands are already there in prime position. besides, your ass is just too nice not to squeeze; it gives his hands something to do whilst you’re telling him about your day… and that’s not even mentioning the way it makes you squirm whenever he’s balls deep inside of you, using his grip on your ass to guide your pace as you ride him into oblivion.

park seonghwa - tits

seonghwa is a gentleman except when it comes to your tits. he is always just touching them, giving some sort of shitty excuse as to why he needs to. ‘oh, i slammed the breaks too hard and didn’t want the seatbelt to hurt you,’ he says as he slowly draws his hand away from where it was just sitting on your breast. ‘i meant to touch your shoulder but i missed,’ he smiles prettily as if that excuses the way he’s pawing at your tit. the way he sees it, he shouldn’t even need an excuse to feel you up at any given moment in time…

because you can’t really blame him for wanting to touch them constantly. he likes soft, cute things are your tits? well they just happen to be the softest, cutest things around! sue him if they’re like magnets for his hands! he can’t help the way they draw them in now can he?

jeong yunho - thighs

BIG HAND ON THIGH I REPEAT BIG HAND… ON THIGH!!!! like when he’s driving you places?!?!? or even when you’re just watching a movie together?!?!?!? UGH!!! it just makes you feel so small and protected and the thought of you being so small and fragile for him? that shit makes yunho weak at the knees. it’s even better when he gets to squeeze your thighs and feel your plush flesh under his fingertips. he likes the way it never fails to make you wriggle in your seat.

and i’m sorry but it all comes down to the fact that this man definitely has a size kink and whatever he can do to make himself feel like the big strong knight and you his tiny little damsel in distress, he will do it. unfortunately that means that he literally always has his hand on your thigh just to show you how big he is compared to you, and just how easy it would be to manhandle you into any position he wants…

kang yeosang - thighs

i think i’ve spoken about yeosang being a dom enough on this account, so i won’t go into any more details about that. all i will say is that he loves pinning you by your thighs. pretty boy is so strong and he just adores the way you helplessly squirm as he holds you to the bed by them. he will literally torture you for hours with his face between your legs, but you can’t even buck your hips with how tightly he’s holding onto your shaking thighs.

and don’t get me started on the bruises he leaves in his wake. he’s spend hours kissing and admiring the fingerprints left on your skin the day after, trailing over them with his fingers and his tongue until he has you squirming and begging for him to give you more. there’s rarely a day goes by where you don’t have tiny purple marks painted up and down your thighs…

choi san - tits

san likes to cuddle something when he sleeps, right? since sharing your bed, that something has become you. he likes his arms wrapped around your waist and his head pressed to your chest, your soft flesh acting as the fluffiest pillow in the world. it’s even better when you play with his hair, sending him into a sleepy daze in minutes.

and it’s not his fault when you wake up to him rutting against your thigh, face pressed between your tits as he incoherently mumbles about how gorgeous you are. actually, it’s yours for sleeping without a bra on. how is san supposed to not be horny when he wakes up every morning to your pretty nipples poking through his tshirt that he let you sleep in. it’s only right that you help him fix his problem, right? that you let him drool over your boobs as he dribbles cum onto your thighs?

song mingi - ass

with the amount i talk about mingi being a slut for eating pussy, i think we all saw this coming, right? like your ass is just the perfect place to hold onto while he tucks in to his favourite meal. he especially likes it when you’re sitting on his face and he can just grab it, using it as leverage to pin you to his face when you start to become oversensitive from his rough licks.

and don’t even get me started about how feral he gets when he eats your pussy from the back. literally eyes closed, moaning like a whore as he licks at you from behind. loves to just grope you while he eats you out, pinching and smacking it every few seconds because he adores the way it makes your pussy clench and squeeze out even more of your precious fluids. he’s literally a bitch in heat when it comes to eating pussy, you will never convince me otherwise

jung wooyoung - ass

he’s a smacker… that’s all i have to say. any time, anywhere, you always need to be on guard because you never know when wooyoung is going to come up behind you and just smack! he likes the way it makes you squeal and blush, thinking you look the most adorable when you’re pouting and scolding him for spanking your ass in the middle of a grocery store! most of the time he just gives you a cheeky smirk before promising - with his fingers crossed, of course - that he won’t do it again.

and he can’t lie, he likes the way it feels in his hand too. the way it jiggles from the impact hypnotises him, and it’s always a struggle for him to pull himself away and not do just one more. but it’s fine, because you never complain when he has you face down ass up in bed, hands raining down spank after spank on your pretty cheeks until they’re red from the impact.

choi jongho - tits

i’m 90% certain that if you’re in a relationship with this man, your tits will become his new favourite thing. whether that’s to look at, to play with, to suck on, it doesn’t really matter. what does matter is they’re his and he will never leave them alone. like he always insists that you wear no bra at home so he can see your pretty nipples; even better if you’re wearing a thin white tshirt too so he can see the colour of them through the material.

the no bra thing also helps when he has his hand slung over your shoulder and he’s pawing at one of them like it’s a stress ball. he won’t even be paying attention to you, yet his hand will be rhythmically palming your tit, his finger flicking against the nipple every so often. and then after all that, when you inevitably ask him to deal with the mess he’s made between your thighs, he’ll have the audacity to act like it’s your fault that you’re horny! he’ll still fuck you though, and you’ll still end up with a nice selection of new purple hickeys across your chest…

[writingroom21]

Play with me

Pairing: Bestfriend!Rafe x fem!reader

Summary: After the game of truth or dare, it's never mentions. Both of you rather playing games with each other till you break

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up), p in v, cream pie, light nipple play, Oral (f&m receiving), teasing, getting caught, (let me know if I missed any)

Wc: 5.1K

part 1

Four days.

Four fucking days since the truth or dare gate. You’ve seen Rafe everyday since and he has not mentioned it once. Deciding that he would rather torment you then talk about it. The only acknowledgement of the incident coming from the next morning when you two woke up. You had fallen asleep shortly after and he followed along. When you woke up he was still sleeping,he was laying on his back with his right arm over his eyes. His mouth was slightly open and he let out light snores. You lay there next to him watching, tracing shapes on his chest.

Rafe has slept over plenty of times, you’ve also slept at his more times than you can count. None of the mornings after a sleepover felt as strange as this. Before last night the idea of this never really seemed possible. Every chance to screw each other was never taken on both ends. The two of you were always flirting with one another, everyone at school thought you were together. Yet it never happened, that’s why it’s shocking to think it finally did. “It’s not nice to wake up someone who’s sleeping.”

His morning voice will never get tiring, music to your ears. “It is when their snoring woke you up.” The arm covering his view comes down and holds your hand on his chest. His eyes adjust to the sunlight shining through the window. “M’sorry. Next time suffocate me.” Rafe turns to his side to face you when he hears your giggles. The hand holding yours wraps your arm around him as his hand finds your waist. “You’re so beautiful, angel.”

You blush at the new nickname. People have joked that you’re sweet as an angel but he was never one of them. He usually stuck to babe, baby, princess, and sometimes hot stuff. You can’t say that you hate the nickname, you actually like it. You’ve always been acknowledged as the good girl with the bad influence. Just maybe they were right because for some reason you can’t shake the feeling there’s no pure thought behind it. 

You would be right. He does see you as the angelic good girl, a sweet angel. But even angels can fall. And just like Lucifer you will fall, he saw it in your eyes last night. He’s never seen that side of you but there’s no good girl when you look deep down. When you fall he’ll be there, ready to be your damnation.

He places a kiss on the tip of your nose. “Not too bad yourself.” He chuckles as he gets up. “I hope so. Had you cumming so hard around me last night.”  Rafe leaves the room to take a shower, leaving you gawking as he walks away. He really has some nerves, it's true, but still.

That was the last time he mentioned it.

After his shower, you took one yourself. You need to up the ante, he was all over you last night but this morning he couldn’t be bothered. When you were drying off  an idea popped into your head. You walk into your room with the towel wrapped around you. Rafe was laying on your bed scrolling through his phone. The phone almost slips from his hands. He was literally inside you last night yet here he is nervous seeing you in just a towel.

You walk to your dresser, opening the third drawer to get your bathing suit. The two of you are meeting Topper and Kelce to go on the boat so might as well put it on now. Rafe watches as you drop the towel, bending over to put your bottoms on. He follows every moment, examining as they glide up your legs and cover your pretty pussy. 

You turn around playing with the top, walking to the edge of the bed to show it to him. “Do you think this is a cute bikini or should I go with another one?” Rafe can’t focus on your words, your movements are causing your tits to bounce. But mostly he’s hyper focused on your nipples. 

Their fucking pierced.

How could he not notice that last night? The metal winks at him, his dick getting harder. “Earth to Ray.” His head snaps up to yours, eyes wide struck. “What?” You giggle, getting up on the bed to kneel in front of him. “Think I should go with this one?” Clearing his throat, Rafe sits up more on the bed. His phone leaves his hands so he can adjust himself.

“I like it. Wear it.” You tie the top strings around your neck, tying the bottom right after. One of the little triangles was skewed. Instinctively Rafe’s hand goes to fix it, fingers brushing against the swell of your breast. When it’s fixed his hand grazes your side. Finally you think. He’s going to finally make a move.

“Get dressed. I’ll be downstairs getting the food ready.” Then he’s off, rushing to the bathroom to get himself off before you’re done. With defeat written on your face you get ready and meet him downstairs. He’s standing by the door with the bags in his hands, you grab the keys and walk right past him. You lock the door as he loads the truck up. Even doing something so simple as that, he makes hot.

It’s not fair honestly. He doesn’t even try to get your turned on and you do. Yet no matter what you do he won’t give in. Rafe sees you stomp over to the car, getting in with a slam of the door. Once he gets into the driver’s seat you are buckled in and on your phone. “Want aux?”

He never asks you to be on aux. “Why?” He rolls his eyes at you, sucking his teeth. “Cause you’re obviously in a shitty mood. Trying to do something nice.” Is he serious right now? Your eyes narrow at him, looking forward to not see him. “I’m good.”

“Are you really going to be a brat right now?” It’s your turn to roll your eyes at him. “I’m fine Rafe. We need to hurry up, we’re already running late.” A glance at the dash clock would prove you right. The both of you are ten minutes late already and it takes fifteen to get there. He puts the truck in drive and is off, his eyes avert from the road to check on you and then back. 

Rafe knows one thing for sure about girls. When they say they’re fine it’s not true. It means they are mad and want you to know they are without them telling you. He can take a wild guess as to why you are mad and be correct. He just won’t talk about it.

The drive was silent. Usually you talk his ear off about music, some tv show, new hobbies, or random gossip. On a good day you would just talk for a little but mostly listen to music. Complete silence has never been an option until now. Rafe would look over every so often to just see you staring out the window, leaning your arm on it with your head on your forearm. 

“I’ll get the bags.” He couldn’t even finish his train of thought before you were out of the car. You were already settled on the boat when he got on. Chatting with Topper when you should be talking his ear off. He’s sad to admit that he misses it, misses the way your voice would fluctuate deepening on your emotion. He could always tell when you are really excited or sad just by your voice.

That day was mostly spent with you ignoring Rafe. Upset with him for just sleeping with you and not having the balls to own it. You would rather him say he regretted it then for him to ignore that it happened.

Day two had a boring day but eventful night. You had Topper drop you off using the excuse that he lives closest to you. Everyone knew that Rafe never minded bringing you home or driving you anywhere. In fact he always refused to let you drive, insisting that he can drive you. He wanted to argue but you had walked off already.

You had woken up at ten, not too late which is good. You went downstairs to go to the kitchen. Opening the fridge you get some eggs, green peppers, red onions, and bacon. You cook the bacon first as you cut up the peppers and onions. In a bowl you crack the eggs and mix everything together. When the bacon was done you cooked the eggs.

You did have any plans today, the only thing you wanted to do was eat and binge movies. Which is exactly what you did. The food was gone soon after you sat down. The plate still sits on the table, you would get to it later. You’re laid out on the couch, Twilight playing on the flat screen tv. You feel like Bella at this moment.

Waiting for Rafe to acknowledge what happened and what it means now. He just went back to acting like it was nothing. You had thought he cared enough to at least give you the respect to say he doesn’t want to continue. Uhhhhh the self spiral is not helping your situation. A buzz catches your attention, you see your phone screen light up. Picking it up you see that one of your friends had texted you.

Lily: Hey gorgeous! Want to come to the party Trev is throwing?

A party is just what you need. He’ll be there to sell and you know that. But if you stick with your friends you know it will help defuse the tension. He hasn’t texted you all day so you highly doubt he wants to talk.

You get ready, putting on a mini skirt and crop top that’s a little too small. If Rafe can’t man up to fuck you then maybe it’s time for someone else to do it. You arrive at the party with a group of your girl friends. It’s in full swing already, there are people on the lawn making a mess. Inside is littered with bodies of people, some are drinking, some dancing, and a lot of them making out. 

Every party is kind of the same. People drink or get high, there’s always at least one fight, and you can always count on the bedrooms being occupied. Your group makes their way to the kitchen where all the drinks were lined up. Looking around you can see bottles of vodka, tequila, and some dark liquor. You grab a cup and the tequila bottle and pour the liquid in. You find whatever juice they have and pour it in as well.

A hand wraps around your waist, the person's chest pressed to your back. You smile into the cup as you take a snip, ready to start flirting. “Hi angel.” The whispered words make you tense. Turning around you are face to face with Rafe. “Oh hey. What’s up.” the smile he had on drops when he realizes yours doesn’t match his. You always light up when you see him.

Topper and Kelce greet you and your friends as well. You try to talk to them but you keep focusing on the way Rafe’s hands are on you. Everyone had moved away from the drinks to another part of the kitchen. Rafe was leaning back on the counter and you were in front of him. His hands stayed on your waist the whole time, bringing you back to brush against him.

It was like he was torturing you with all the teasing. It continued when you all moved outside to have a smoke. Rafe made sure to find a place with less seating so you would have to sit on his lap. It worked in the end, he had you on top of him squirming around. Each movement only makes him harder. His hands skim your legs, slipping under your skirt and then back. 

Every tease of his hands makes you grind on him harder. If it were up to you he would bend you over right now and fuck the shit out of you. Clearly he doesn’t have the same plan. But you did enjoy when his groping got more intense when Mark started talking to you. He had seen you from where he was sitting and came over to pull you away.

“Hey! I haven’t seen you in forever. How have you been?” Rafe glares at the guy, the hand on your thigh tightening as you respond. “Marky? Oh my god hey!” You tried to get up but Rafe wouldn’t let you. The whole conversion Rafe wouldn’t take his hands off of you. 

His arms wrap around you so his hands are resting on the exposed flesh of your abdomen. You try to not focus on the feeling of his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, going under. His fingertips slip under the cups of your bra, feeling the flesh of your breast. Mark’s eyes flicker to the movement and back to your eyes, a slight blush forming. You push his arms down, causing his hands to leave their mission. 

In the end Rafe got what he wanted, Mark left right after making an excuse of meeting friends. You were slightly pissed off at Rafe, you haven’t seen Mark in a while so it was nice to catch up. But on the other hand you were happy he was finally paying you attention. Even more happy when he kept feeling you up even after the boy had left.

Towards the end of the night you were so horny that you wanted to slip his cock out and just have him inside you again. You mostly just want to feel how big he is again, making you ache in the nicest way possible. Having enough of it you turn around to whisper in his ear. “Why don’t we find a room or leave?” Who cares if you are being too straightforward? You are over this waiting game.

Smirking, he looks into your eyes. “Can’t handle me teasing you?” You smile up at him, pecking his jaw lightly. “I know something else I really want to handle right now. Maybe you can teach me?” Your hips grind down on him to enhance your point. “Yeah? What do you want me to teach you?”

Maybe it’s the weed but you really don’t care that you are grinding on Rafe’s lap while he kisses your neck in the middle of a party. No one is honestly surprised, they didn’t think it would take the two of you this long. Rafe is sucking on the point beneath your ear that does you in. “How to suck you off.” You bite his ear lobe. “How to deep throat you without choking.”

Rafe lets out a moan that was almost too loud for a public setting. “Let’s go I’m taking you home.” You’re giddy as you get up, saying goodbye to your friends. Rafe on the other hand is scrambling to cover the little wet spot you had left on him from grinding. Your skirt had only given you the coverage of eyes being on you. 

You practically skip to the car thinking that you finally won. Whatever dumb game he was playing, you won. You beam as he opens the passenger door for you, helping you up into the truck. The same on the drive home when his hand is on your thigh, creeping closer to your skirt. Moaning When it goes under, fingers playing with you over your panties.

“Take them off.” He snaps the elastic against you. Without saying anything you slip them off, putting them in his pocket for safe keeping. The action made him smile to himself. His hand continues its assault on you. Circling your entrance to collect your wetness to bring it up to circle your clit. Your moaning continues as your drive down the streets. All of a sudden he pulls his hand away.

“What the fuck.” You yell. Your whole body flipping to look at him, arms flying up in the air. “You’re home.” You look out your window and sure enough, he’s right outside. “Are you going to come in?” He looks at the door and then at you, shaking his head he licks the fingers that were just touching you. “Nah we have that brunch tomorrow and it’s late.” You scoff at him. “When have you ever cared about family brunch?” 

Your parents and Ward plus Rose always had weekly brunch at the club. It was a family thing everyone had to tag along. Rafe always skipped or was late, dragging you along with him. But now suddenly he cares about them, yeah fuck that.

He shrugs. “You know what? You can fuck off Cameron.” You storm out the car and up the driveway. “Fucking asshole. Teasing the shit out of me then bailing out. Fucking pussy.” You say mostly to yourself, the words echoing down to his open window. He still waits until you go inside before leaving, seeing you flip him off. He laughs knowing that you are pissed at him, just like he wanted.

Day three, had you sitting through a boring lunch right across from the one person you are annoyed at. Normally when these lunches happen you and Rafe skip to get high or hang out. When you are here the two of you are at the end of the table talking to yourselves. But not today.

You decided to sit next to you mom, your dad on the other side of her. When the Cameron family came in, Ward sat directly in front of your dad while Rose did the same to your mom. Now usually Wheeze sits next to Rose but Rafe b lined her to the chair when he didn’t see you at the end. The families were confused on why the sitting had changed and more so why there was no talking. 

You ended up talking to Sarah and Wheszie while Rafe listened to the conversation. He tried to talk to you but you shut him out. You are giving him the same treatment, if he wanted to play games so could you. Only yours was the silent game.

There was nothing more that Rafe hated than being ignored. He felt it his whole life, yet never from you. This was like whiplash. You’ve been super mad at him before but you never shut him out. He doesn’t like the feeling but he knows he can get you mad enough to break. To finally cave and say something. 

He nudges your foot with his sneakers creasing your shoes. You kick his foot away from you, turning your body more towards Sarah.  The good thing about him being tall is that he can still reach you. This time he kicks your ankle. Your head snaps at him, your eyes shooting him a glare. He’s smiling as he waits for you to say something. Just when he thinks you will crack, the waiter saves you from it.

As everyone eats he keeps it going. Accidentally reaching for things that you are getting. If he sees you getting salt, so is he. Want more bread? Well look at that he suddenly wants some too. Each time causes your hands to collide. There’s a little twitch in your eyes, just at the corners. He knows you're a second away from yelling at him and making a scene so he takes it up one more notch. He lifts his leg up, skimming your inner thigh, finding his way under your dress.

The sound of your chair pushing back makes the table look at you. Rafe looks smug, expecting you to lose your cool now. Instead you take a deep breath. “Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom.” Everyone starts to ask what is up with you. “Is she okay? You two haven’t been talking?” Your mom asks. “Yeah she said she wasn’t feeling too good earlier. I should probably make sure she’s okay.”

The table shares glances as Rafe walks off after you. “Does anyone else think that’s kinda weird? Like something is definitely going on.” Wheezie questions. “Wheeze knock it off. I’m sure it's fine.” Ward says, going back to his conversation with your father. “It’s suspicious.” she whispers as she takes a bite.

Rafe’s footsteps echo in the hallway behind you. He ignores all the stares that people are giving him as he rushes to catch up. “Hey.” you ignore him and walk into the women's bathroom. He stands outside the door for a second, looking around to make sure the coast is clear. The door slams open, scarring you as Rafe checks the stalls.

“What the fuck Rafe!” You try to walk out but he blocks you, locking the door. “What’s wrong angel?” He teases. The bathroom lights are dimly highlighting his eyes. Yellow specks float in the sea of blue. “Move out of my way Cameron.” It's laughable how cute you are trying to put your foot down. “You’ve been a brat all brunch.” You can't argue as he pushes you back to the sinks and lifts you on it.

“What are you doing?” You ask as Rafe sinks to his knees, his head disappearing under your skirt. He places a kiss on your clothed clit, pulling your panties to the side so he could give you a lick. “Fucking delicious.” The tiled walls bounce your moans around like an echo chamber. You struggle to keep yourself up right on the sink. Your back hitting the mirror as you slump down. 

Rafe is holding you up by your thighs, placing them on his shoulders to keep you there. His mouth devours you as if he was still hungry. Like the food he was just eating didn’t sedate his hunger. Light hits his eyes again as you unfold your skirt, your hand finding his head. He hums into you, shaking his head from side to side. “I’m close.”

His movements get faster and when you are right at the edge he pulls away. Your eyes shoot open to look at him, following as he gets up and licks his lips. Grabbing paper towels, wetting them to clean your up. He helps you off the sink, fixing your panties and skirt. “I’ll tell them you’re okay and need another minute. See you out there.” 

The rest of brunch you were tense. So upset that he denied you a orgasim like that or the fact that he keeps messing with you. When you get home you are radiating with anger, wanting to explode. You so badly want to call him to yell or cuss him out over text but you don’t. If ignoring him got you that then it could get you more.

Day four

An insistent ringing wakes you up from your sleep. Fumbling around you feel for your phone and blindly answer it. “Hello?” You throw your blanket over your head to block out the light coming in from the window. “Are you still sleeping? Come on, get ready, I'll be there shortly.” You pull the phone away to see that it's almost 10:30 and that it’s Rafe who called you. “Why would I be getting ready?” He huffs over the phone. 

“Because I’m picking you up. Barry got some new weed and coke.” See you were ready to tell him to fuck off but he got you with free drugs. They usually let you test out what they buy before selling it. It’s great having friends that deal sometimes, especially when Rafe never let you pay. “Fine.” You hang up on him to get ready.

When he had texted you he was there you raced out the house and into his truck. Completely blocking him from opening the door for you like he normally does. Rafe just closes the door and gets back in. “Hey angel.” His hands go for your thigh but you move your legs away to face the door. “Hey.”

The ride to Barry’s was awkward to say the least.  Rafe tries to start conversations with you but you won’t say a thing. Texting your friends on your phone instead of having to talk to him. It was so awkward that even Barry noticed it when you came into the house. You had walked in and sat on the couch picking up the blunt that was already rolled on the table. Rafe lagging along like a lost puppy following its owner.

“Want any of the good stuff sweetheart?” Barry asks you while waving a baggie of coke in your face. Taking a puff from the blunt you shake your head, passing it to Rafe. “No, I'm good.” You giggle. You know Barry isn’t that bad, maybe he could help you out. The boys watch you as you get up and sit next to Barry.

He smirks at Rafe, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “Now why is a pretty girl like you always around men like us? Like pretending you aren’t a good girl?” You giggle at him, legs going into his lap. “Maybe I’m not as good as people think.” Barry likes the way your eyelashes are fluttering at him. 

Rafe is watching the two of you like a hawk, as Barry’s hands touch your exposed legs. His phone rings and he disconnected himself from you to answer it. When he’s out of the room Rafe’s eyes meet yours. “What are you doing?”  A cheshire smile spreads on your lips. “Me?”

“Yeah you. Who else would I be talking to?” You shift back to the couch next to him, taking the blunt in his hands. “Just talking to B is there something wrong with that?” Too headstrong, Rafe doesn’t back down. “I don’t know, is there? You seem to be the one with the issues.” Your smile drops and you take another puff. “Well maybe if you would stop being such a pussy I wouldn’t have to flirt with him.” 

There it is

“So this is about me not fucking you?”  He looks so cocky sitting there, lounging back on the couch. “Should have just said something baby. Wouldn’t want to leave me little angel suffering.” You are about to start yelling at him to wipe that look off his face but Barry walks in. “Aight I have to go deal with something. I’ll be back soon, don't take all that shit.” He’s out the door without looking back

The crunch of tires from a motorcycle can be heard from inside the house. Signaling that Barry was gone. “You have to be kidding! I’ve been trying ti fuck you since we woke up the next day. You were the one you wouldn’t.” You shout at him. He just shrugs which pisses you off even more. Getting up you stand in front of him, invading his space.

He leans forward only for you to push him back, crawling into his lap to get up close. “Fucking pussy.” Your lips crash to his, hands gripping his shirt to keep him still. This is exactly where he wanted you. So riled up that you’ll just take what you want. All your life he has seen you sit back and just let people walk all over you. Letting them decide what’s best for you, he wants you to take that step.

Your hips are grinding down on him, his dick getting hard from the friction. “Is it clear now? I want you to fuck me.” He gives you another kiss. “Then go for it.” Automatically you take off his shirt, yours flying along with it. Your lips travel down his body, kissing every inch of his skin. The pressure in his pants relieves when you unbutton his pants, taking them down.

Rafe keeps his mouth shut, afraid if he spoke it would ruin the moment. A moan leaves him when you use your teeth to pull his boxers down. Giving his dick kisses up and down. Licking from the base up. The feeling is amazing. Having your mouth on him was a different feeling. Sure he’s had sex but they never meant anything, you did.

You bob your head a few more times and then get up, stripping your shirts and panties. His hands find your thigh as you get back on him. “You’re perfect.” Crystal blue eyes meet yours, conveying a secret message. “Shut up.” You sink down on him, his length filling you up once again.

You bounce on his dick, leaning back with your hands on his knees to hold you up. The once quiet house is filled with your moans. You’ve been so pent up that you are ready to cum already. “Touch me.” His fingers find your clit, rubbing in fast circles. You aren’t the only one who’s pent up. Rafe’s been teasing himself just as much as he has with you. 

His other hand helps facilitate your movements, slamming you on him. “That’s it angel. Be a good girl and cum for me.” Your body spasms with your orgasim, shaking over Rafe. The lull of your hips alerts Rafe that you can’t do this much longer. Your energy pulled out of you. He wraps his arms around you, lifting up from the couch. He’s still inside you as he drapes your body over the edge of the couch. 

You are on your back, hips elevated as he stands between your legs. His hips snap into yours, ramming your g-spot with every thrust. Each of your moans sent him into overdrive, wanting to cum but desperately needed you to do so again. His thumb goes back to your clit and he leans over to suck one of your nipples. The triple stimulation does wonders, sending you over the edge once again.

Rafe’s hips keep thrusting, chasing his own release. A few minutes later he was done for. Hips slamming and shuttering into yours, filling you up. He plugs you, not wanting a single drop to go to waste. He pushes some hair off of your face, looking into your eyes and kissing you deep. “I wanted to fuck you too. Just wanted to play with you first.” You open your mouth to say something but a voice makes you stop. “On my fucking couch. The two of you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Rafe couldn’t even care that you two were caught. He finally got you to break, to give in to what you want. His perfect little angel finally fell, not realizing that he’ll drag you down further. 

[bahablastplz]

SKZ and their kinks (OT8)

Pairings: OT8 x reader (f) Warnings: Smut, MDNI

Chan (praise)

Chan loves praising you in the bedroom 

I genuinely believe this man is the most vocal partner, especially if you’re pleasuring him, he needs to let you know what a good job you’re doing. 

“That’s so good… your mouth feels so good around my cock,” he’ll say as you look up at him with big eyes. 

“Ugh you’re clenching around me so tight baby,” he says. “Like this pussy was made for me.” 

If you let him onto the fact that you really like praise in the bedroom, this man will be insatiable. 

He’ll praise you through every orgasm and every interaction, loving the way that you get flustered and your eyes flutter when he speaks. 

If you praise him in the bedroom? It fuels him to keep going because he loves to be told that he’s doing a good job, that he’s the one that’s making you feel good. 

“God, baby, love this pussy. Love making you feel good, you’re so good for me. Give me one more, yeah?” 

Lee Know (sex toys)

Lee Know is super into using sex toys in the bedroom, to the point that I think he’s the one that suggests it to you. If you’re not sure about it he’ll ease you into it.

Goes shopping to buy toys specifically for you and gets hard just thinking about using them on you. 

Loves watching you completely fall apart for him as he runs a vibrator through your folds. When you cum for him your orgasm is so intense and I think he’ll talk you right through it. 

“Look so pretty for me like this… Yeah baby, just like that. Just let go for me.” 

Will slowly fuck you with the toy through your aftershocks until your legs stop shaking. 

If you’re still feeling needy once you finished, will absolutely fuck you with his cock after. He loves when you’re overstimulated and pliant for him, and will absolutely use the vibrator on you while he’s fucking you just to see the fucked out expression on your face. 

I also think Lee Know could fuck you with various toys for hours without ever getting his own release. He just loves watching the way that you contort underneath him and the faces you make as you cum for him again and again. 

“Fuck, does that feel good? Is that hitting your g-spot just right?” he asks as he fucks a dildo into you. “You’re doing a good job, love. One more and then I’ll let you cum all over my cock.” 

Changbin (strength/manhandling) 

The first time he realizes that you like being man-handled, he’s over the moon. The first time you were acting up a little bit and you weren’t getting into the position he wanted you to, he grabbed you and put you there himself. You moaned so loudly and it went straight to his head. 

“Yeah? You like that?” he asks smugly. “You like it when I’m rough and put you in your place?” 

When you explain to him that it’s his muscles and knowing that he has the strength to do whatever he wants with you and knowing that he can be rough without going too far, he literally preens. 

He likes showing you that he can fuck you against the wall with you in his arms, your legs around his waist without breaking a sweat. 

Gets so smug if you’re riding him and your legs give out so he can take over. 

He loves holding your full weight above his cock so that he can piston into you at full force. When you throw your head back and you’re completely putty in his hands, it completely fuels his ego. You love when he gets like this. 

Hyunjin (role play) 

Have you seen this man? He’s absolutely the most dramatic person I’ve ever seen in my life. 

This makes me think if you ever did role play, he would get super into it. 

One time, he hits on you at the bar, pretending to be a stranger looking for a hookup. You genuinely believe him when he takes you home and his hands are on you, asking for your name and promising you he’ll be the best fuck you’ve ever had. 

“God, this is the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he says. “Please don’t let this be a one-time thing, I’ll do anything for you to let me come back.” He sounds desperate as he licks a stripe up your pussy even though he’s had it for himself a hundred times before. 

I also genuinely believe he would be super into professor/student roleplay. 

You’re telling me you can’t picture this man telling you he has to ‘punish’ you for your bad grades? He’s super into it. 

“God, what a good girl, letting your professor fuck you with his cock. Fuck, think you deserve an A for this, God, baby.” 

Han (edging)

I think the first time that Han edges you is by complete accident. 

You tell him you’re getting close but he wants it to last a little longer so he pulls out thoughtlessly. But, as tears start forming in your eyes and streaming down your face, he realizes he loves watching you squirm and beg for him to just put it back in, to please just let him fuck you again. 

After he edges you so many times, I think he would try it himself too and realize just how much he likes it, that it makes you both just that more desperate and the orgasm even greater. 

You’ll both be whimpering and near your orgasm for the fifth time that night but he pulls out nonetheless, relishing in your whines for him. 

“Just one more… hold out for me, please. God, it’ll feel so good, you can do it for me, can’t you?” 

When you finally explode around him he’s so close behind, fucking you both hard through one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had. 

“God, baby, oh my god, feels so good. Baby oh my god, pussy feels so good for me, thank you,” he says as he finally slumps down, covering your body with his own. 

Felix (recording)

The first time you sent him an audio of you moaning, you awakened a beast in Felix. He begs you to let him download it onto his phone to keep forever. He starts listening to them in public, absolutely turned on by the fact that a.) nobody knows what he’s listening to and b.) he’s the only one that gets to hear you like that 

He’s so turned on by this, in fact, that he begs you to let him record an audio of you two having sex. 

“Yeah, that’s my girl,” he grunts as he pounds into you. “Be nice and loud so I can hear you, make all the noises you know I like.” 

Shows off in a way that gets you to moan as loud as you possibly can and doesn’t let you muffle any of the sounds you’re making. 

Listens to the audio as soon as you’re done, already getting hard again.

Seungmin (degradation) 

Hard dom Seungmin agenda 

I think Seungmin would be super mean to you leading up to sex, and especially during it. If he knows that him being mean to you turns you on, he will totally use it against you. 

“God, you’re such a pathetic slut for me, baby. Look at you pushing your thighs together. So needy for this cock, right?” 

Loves looking you in the eye when he says mean things to you because he loves the way you get so flustered and humiliated when he speaks to you. 

If you cum fast? It turns him on so much. 

“Cumming for me already? God, I knew you were desperate. I’m not even close yet, ha. Think this greedy pussy can give me another? Of course it can.” 

On the other hand, I also think Seungmin would give the best aftercare. 

“Did so good for me,” he says as he strokes your hair. He cradles you closer to his chest.”You’re so perfect for me.” 

IN (hair pulling/humiliation) 

I think when I.N. realizes that you like getting your hair pulled, he just uses it as a way to tease you and get you flustered at first. 

He’ll walk by when you’re unsuspecting and yank on your hair hard, smirking at the way you let out a loud groan at his actions. Then he’ll walk away as if nothing happened, hands in his pockets. 

This will go on for so long that it drives you nuts. You start begging him that if he’s going to do that to just please, do something more so that you’re not so wound up around him all the time. 

One day his hand snakes into your hair and you’re already whimpering, and he hasn’t even pulled it at all yet. This makes him go absolutely feral, the way you’re so needy for him, that he crashes his lips into yours. 

Eventually it goes further and he has you bent over the couch, fucking into you from behind. 

He yanks your hair, using it as a way to pull your body up into him. 

“Look so good like this. Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long. Wanted my cock in you for so long, don’t know how bad I’ve wanted you. You’re such a pain slut for me, just for me.”

God, I love this type of post so much. I don't care how many writers do this, I'll read it every single time. <3 Masterlist Recs

[love-anddeepression]

I have like 2 ideas for Miguel O’Hara x platonic teen reader

1. Reader tries to impress Miguel with their parkour skills on missions

2. All the other spider people call reader “baby o hara” or like “mini Miguel”

OOHOHOOOO NICE, I wrote a Drabble hehee

Baby Spider- Miguel O’Hara x teen!reader

“What the actual frick Frack is that?” You say as the anomaly holds out a light that emits a low frequency sound.

“Did you actually just say frick frack? And that’s to attract her moth droids.”

“Well, when I actually swear, you give me this look!”

He scoffs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s bullshit.”

His head whips to you with an eyebrow raised.

“You just proved my point!” Your hand swings out to point at him.

“Can—can the both of you focus on the villain here?” The evil anomaly deadpans at the both of you.

“Shut up!” The both of you shout at her, Miguel’s claws extend.

“You know what I’ve had enough, she’s annoying me.” You groan, “let’s just get her back into her universe.”

“Be careful.” He warns.

“I’ll be fine.” Internally you’re grinning because you’re excited. Pavitr had taught you a few parkour tricks to try during missions and you wanted to show them to Miguel. You walk to the edge of the roof and look at the layout of the windows. All in jumping distance, some perfect for flipping, and it was honestly too good to be true.

“Hey!” You wave your arms to distract the anomaly. And to Miguel’s horror, you take a running start towards the edge of the roof and flip her the bird while jumping off.

“AY BE CAREFUL!” He covers his mouth in shock as you reappear, quite literally swinging upwards, as if you launched yourself like a rocket. Flying towards the heavens.

He watches as you flip mid air and use a roof ledge to bounce from one building to another. Your hands and legs constantly moving in some way. He can also see the way you turn to look at him every two minutes. Like you want him to see your skills. He smiles a faint smile under the mask.

“Hey, boss, I’d hate to break up your little moment, but the anomaly has a substantial amount of droids that are mostly being captured as we speak.” lyla informs him.

Miguel runs towards where you’re teetering off the edge of a tall building and watches as you use your webs to blind the anomaly. He takes the opportunity to launch himself from the building and swings to the anomaly, destroying her droids in the process and coming to towering over her menacingly

His clawed fingers wrap around her neck, baring it to him as his mask fades and his fangs sink into the flesh, paralysing her.

He wipes his mouth and looks at you. You’re standing sideways on a window.

“Impressive parkour, kid.”

You nod, “thanks.”

When he turns you fist bump the air and jump, forgetting that you were sideways and you fall with a shriek.

Red webbing wraps around waist, you’re pulled towards Miguel. He just looks at you for a few moments. You groan.

“I know you’re trying not to laugh.”

“What do you mean, I’m *snort* not laughing.”

After a few seconds of silence, he doubles over and takes a deep breath, and as you huff out a laugh, Miguel O’Hara, known for being a mean old grump, sputters out nonsensical words while laughing his ass off.

“Yeah, yeah you’re hilarious.” You try to calm him down, but you’re having trouble stopping yourself from laughing as well.

Suddenly a portal opens and Jessica drives onto the roof. The both of you notice her as Miguel wheezes and coughs.

“You good?” She asks after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

The man clears his throat, “Yeah, let’s take this lady back.” He throws the anomaly into the portal and walks in, “come on, kid.”

“What about you, Mini Miguel?” She raises her eyebrow.

“Perfectly fine, Jess” you grin at her underneath your mask.

[writtenbymoonflower]

Can we have a Poly!Marauders x Quiddich Player Reader, Where she falls and breaks a bone and tries to hide it from the boys? That would be so great <3

thanks for requesting gorgeous!! poly!marauders x fem!reader

cw: mentions of injury/bruises

1.1k words

“I was able to heal the bone, but it will be a bit sore for a bit. Try to take it easy for about a day or so. Some bruising is normal, but keep an eye on it. If anything looks concerning, don’t hesitate to come back in, okay?” Madame Pomfrey slathered some unknown mixture over the inflamed skin on your shoulder.

“Okay.” That seemed to be the only word you had said in the past half hour, eager to leave the hospital wing.

“This bandage should help with the swelling.” The nurse explained as she wrapped long strips of white cloth around your chest, then crossing over your shoulder. You glanced at the clock anxiously, seeing it was now 10 minutes past when you were usually back at your boyfriend’s dorm.

“Thank you so much, Miss.” you said politely, putting your clothes back on. She patted your good shoulder as you hurried out into the corridor.

You changed clothes in your room before going to the Gryffindor common room. It was now late afternoon, when most of the house members were outside enjoying the nice weather, or inside the library studying. You heard the ruckus of the three boys immediately after you stepped through the portrait hole.

“Hey sweetheart! We were just about to look for you, we were getting worried.” James looked thrilled to see you, if not a little concerned.

“Sorry, practice ran late.” You fibbed, worrying your lower lip with your fingers. You hoped the collar of your sweater was efficiently hiding the bandages.

“That’s okay lovie, come sit.” James scooted over, creating a space between himself and Remus (who had Sirius curled on his lap like a cat, arm held over his eyes like a damsel in distress).

“Practice go okay?” Remus asked cooly, flipping the page of his novel.

“Yeah. It was alright.” You really wished the topic would just change.

“Modest as ever, dolly. Marlene was watching for a bit. She said you kicked ass.” Sirius chuckled. You winced. If she saw you fall she definitely would’ve told the boys. You gave Sirius a nervous smile. He lowered his arm to look at you suspiciously.

James squeezed your shoulder, making pain fizzle down your arm, but you kept your face stoic. You leant back into his chest as you let them return to their previous conversation. Your eyes were closed, listening to the vibration of James’ laughter.

You were almost asleep when you were jolted back to reality, in the form of Sirius grabbing your legs and tugging them towards him.

“Ah! Siri!” You gasped. Your legs were now across Sirius’ lap (technically also Remus’) and your head landed in James’.

“Gentle, love.” Remus chided the boy in his lap.

“She was so far away.” Sirius pouted pathetically. You lifted your head to look at him blankly.

“We are literally on the same couch.”

“That’s not close enough! I want you inside my skin!” Sirius whined. He all but flung himself off of Remus’ lap and on top of you. You squealed.

“Christ! Pads! You’re lucky I spend so much time in the gym. Not everyone could handle your roughhousing.” James scolded but his voice was laced heavily with fondness.

“Not the only reason I’m lucky.” He waggled his dark eyebrows at the curly-haired boy before he nuzzled his face right into your neck. On any other occasion you would giggle and squirm, but because of your injury, you groaned and your face screwed up in pain. You tried to hide it but unfortunately Remus had a perfectly unobstructed view of your face.

“Padfoot. Off.” Remus (gently) pulled Sirius off of you. Clearly his tone indicated that he wasn’t joking, because you heard no protests. James stroked your still tensed face.

“Shit! Did I hurt you, baby?” Sirius knelt by the couch, patting you down to look for injury. You winced again when he reached your chest. You shook your head.

“No, no. I’m fine. I’m just a little sore from practice ‘s all.” You tried to shove the boys off but it was no use.

“Let’s have a look.” Remus wasn’t having any of it.

“Oh, it’s really fine.” You floundered, but he still stuck his long fingers into your collar, pulling it down to expose your clavicle. James gasped when he saw the white of the bandages.

“Sweetheart!” James pressed his fingers into the top of the wrap and you hissed. “What happened here?”

“I just got a little banged up.” You moved to sit up but you were gently pushed back down.

“Off with the sweater, dove.”

“If you wanted me to strip, Lupin you didn’t have to go through all this fuss.”

He just rolled his eyes. You complied begrudgingly. The boys all hissed at the sight. Tight bandages digging into your skin, discoloration painting the edges.

“That’s more than a little banged up, lovely girl.” James stroked your head. His tone was light in the way it is when he’s especially worried.

“Did you fall onto the tracks and get hit by the fucking Hogwarts Express?” Sirius asked incredulously.

“It’s not that bad. It’s all healed anyway, just a little tender.” You reassured.

“Did you go to the hospital wing?” Remus asked plainly. You inhaled deep, knowing the reaction you were going to get.

“Yes.” You sighed. “It’s fine. It was a little fracture but she healed it.”

“Baby!” Sirius pinched your thigh hard. “You went to the hospital for this and you weren’t going to tell us?”

“Well… yeah. Because it’s all healed now.” You said as if it was obvious.

“That doesn’t mean you keep it a secret you muppet.” James scolded. He still leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“I wasn’t keeping it a secret! I just didn’t want to make it a big deal.” Remus handed your sweater back to you and you sat up to shrug it on.

“That’s why you lied to us and said practice ran late, when you were actually getting treated for a broken bone?” Remus quirked a brow at you. You suddenly felt small.

“Sorry.” You looked down. He hooked a finger under your chin, forcing you to look in his eyes.

“Don’t be sorry, baby dove. But I need you to tell us if you get hurt, yeah? It’s important. It’s our job to keep you safe. You need to let us do that, okay?” His brown eyes were warm, but commanding in the way only Remus could accomplish.

“Okay.” You nodded. He tapped your chin with his knuckle.

“Attagirl. Now c’mere.” He tugged you into him, your face against his sweater. Sirius climbed into James’ lap and snuggled into him. The bespectacled boy whispered something in his ear.

“I might have to take a tumble if it will get Moons to look at me like that.”

[hoseoksluna]

CHERRIES | jhs ft. jjk

pairing: soon-to-be-boyfriend!hobi x oc (feat. ex-boyfriend!jk)

genre: heavy, heavy, obnoxious smut

word count: 12.7k

summary: you don't know how he does it, but hobi makes you forget about the life you led before him, using his tongue.

playlist: hobi's playlist ; hobi's the weeknd playlist 

pinterest board: cherries / taglist: join

warnings: oh my god—dd/lg but differently, businessman!hobi, dominant and emotional and fucking possessive hobi, oc is horny... a lot, praise kink, breeding kink sdflhldghfdklaxjkfghskfg, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, female and male masturbation, use of a sex toy, cum eating, ass eating, religious personification, mentions of anal sex, thigh and ass slapping fuck

note: my babies, i'm so happy to be posting PART TWO OF BERRIES for you, oh my god. i had the time of my LIFE writing this, had to take breaks every 20 mins, was horny beyond my fucking mind BECAUSE THE SMUT IN THIS? FUCK. THIS IS PURE FILTH. 12K WORDS OF FILTHY HOBI SMUT. IM DEAD. HAVE BEEN DEAD. i missed writing so much that i spewed this out in 3 days... literally how? but i'm so happy to be back. i hope you enjoy this part. make sure to let me know what you think! i'm in a severe (hehe) need of your feedback. I LOVE YOU, MY BABIES. MWAH.

side note: this part has the entirety of my being in it. from the first word to the last. it means a lot to me. very special chapter! <3

By the time you come out of the art museum, it’s storming. A sound so cacophonous that it spreads dots of gooseflesh along the perimeter of your skin underneath your silk dress and the layer of your heavy trench coat. Loud and violent like your heart’s deep drum that stills once you see Hoseok leaning against his glossy car. Arms and legs crossed in the same fashion, clothed in the coupled shade of blackness, a mop of tousled hair swept back and rippling in the unforgiving wind that flushes his cheeks with its rosy coldness and then clouds pull in, darkening his stare fixed on you. 

A shower of sudden rain finishes its touch on his countenance. 

Eye contact broken, Hobi’s shoulders raise as he feels the iciness of the slender raindrops falling upon him, eyes flicked up to the shadowed heavens. A heartstring of yours snaps and you don’t really know who gave the command to your aching legs to run towards him with your coat suspended over your head—whether it was that weakened heart of yours or basic human decency. Emotion versus logic. 

You find soon enough the verdict of the winner. 

Because when you have to stand on your tippy toes to cover him from the rain, despite the fact you’re wearing your high-heeled boots, and Hobi takes the makeshift shield from your hands and shrouds you both from the wetness, an identical flush crawls from your left cheek, upon the column of your nose right next to your other cheek, warming you up from within. 

Emotion. The string that ruptured grows again to its full length during that fleeting moment and you’re aching to take him home. 

No rain in sight—just him in this close proximity, in this gray cocoon, smiling down at you lopsidedly, a dimmed light flickering in his inky pools, faintly, barely, only there for you to see. To catch and cling to like his patchouli scent does to you, a whiff of dainty wildflowers leaning in and enclosing around you, forcing away the thoughts that are erect in the corners of your mind, waiting for the adequate moment to strike. Thoughts of how you sense Jungkook’s life entwining around your world again; his companion perfuming the air with petrichor, the inner turmoil she must be facing the very strength that pulled those clouds in, causing a storm to stretch across the skies. You figure each beat of her confused heart must be the grumble of the thunder, but then Hobi’s outer film of softness amidst the darkness is a force way greater, because firmness broods right underneath it, and it is an energy that keeps those thoughts pressed against the walls of your mind.

He did turn you into a locked orchard—and the threat of another declared war isn’t even a wind that brushes past your fruit trees and berry bushes. 

In fact, the more you deepen your exchange of gazes and Hobi cages you in between his shirt-clothed elbows, the more you want to show him the stain of your juices upon your panties. 

You’re aroused—blooming, in need to be picked. It outweighs the past and you’re glad for it, deem your newly born sexuality more important than the doomed normalcy of your life. 

You sink your manicured nails into that newness, adamant on not letting it go, regretting that you agreed to see your ex-boyfriend later tonight, regretting that you grew soft at the hint of his own normalcy, even though you said to yourself that you wouldn’t. It’s one of the reasons why you dig your nails deeper, maximizing your closeness to Hobi—it’s done in an effort to erase your foolish moment of weakness, to better yourself like you encouraged yourself to do earlier when you had perceived that you misinterpreted him. You curl your lips under your teeth to stifle back a sigh, wishing you were as firm as him, as stable in your decisions and your way of living as him. Wishing your weakness wasn’t a putty you play with, leave your fingerprints of your bad decisions on that blemish until you hate yourself, until the paste hardens and there’s nothing left for you to do but to watch it. Watch the evidence of your failure, your brokenness and your imbecility like still life—the curse, the doom of your life, haunting you. 

It almost slinks in, threatening yet again to desiccate your orchard, the movement akin to a wave rolling in, but then Hobi speaks. And his voice sears those thoughts to nothing. Not even their shadows are left behind. 

“Did you say hi to your friend?” he murmurs, reaching behind him to open the door of the passenger side for you, the coat that’s propped on his forearm lowering until it rests back around your shoulders. 

You can merely nod, your empty mind focused on the absence of your selfishness—for once again, you want to be close to him for his sake, even more so when Hobi places his palm on the top edge of his car so you don’t hurt your head. 

A prince, an orchardist, and a gentleman. 

You’re feeding him and sucking his dick before he goes to work—you don’t care. Hope to God he fucks your brain out of your head and plants a new one; one that isn’t so stupid. 

Seated inside his car, you glimpse profoundly at the way the rain kisses the crown of his head as he rounds his vehicle, sitting right beside you and carrying inside his heavenly skin fragrance, now accentuated by the residue of petrichor that all of a sudden doesn’t have anything to do with what you just bore. No hints, no thoughts, no wars. How he does it is something you’ll never have the capability of understanding—a fracture of attention of the intimate kind and he binds you to him, erasing your still fresh past as if it never happened. 

You flex and relax your hand on your lap, a gesture that depicts that you cherish it to the point that you yearn to submit to it and remain submitted. And you will. You’ll figure out a way to stay stable, even if events appear to try and revolutionize you. A way to keep your fist clenched in his presence. 

Hobi lets the car warm up a little bit before he turns on the heating, angling his rear view mirror just right, from which two purple, plush dice swing back and forth, colliding once and never meeting again. 

How inspiring. 

And then you watch his hands. Watch them dominate the car, spur it to life as he drives through the drenched street, parting the rain like a curtain, stepping in, taking you home. 

As if he sensed your thoughts, he glances at you. “My place or yours?” 

A red light halts his control and Hobi uses it to tap on the screen of his dashboard, dousing the space in a sultry, wet ambiance as slow, calm music breaks the silence. While it was comfortable for you, now you feel even more at ease and you wiggle in your seat, sinking deeper into the leather. 

Quite useful material for the lecherous saturation of your mind; for the lustful layer of sweat lining your skin. You feel so hot. Feel the need to be ridded of your clothes right now. Feel a certain kind of vivacity that drives you to do things you wouldn’t normally do. 

You take his hand from the shift stick, cradling it with both of your own hands, a finger tracing the veins that paint a slender but a strong temple—a temple for his beauty and character, you suspect. 

“My place,” you say, yearning to make him feel at home in your space; cook for him, make him come, stuff like that.

Green light blinks and Hobi doesn’t withdraw from your hold. No, he tells you what to do, quickly. 

“Keep your hand on mine,” he instructs and you listen, sinking your fingers between his and gripping him like in an effort to grip onto stable submission. “Just like that.” 

Your stomach flips at his choice of praise and you lick your lips, tightening your hold hard enough that he peeks at you with a smirk while he shifts the gear stick with you and speeds down the road. The heat worsens and you don’t think you can take it anymore.

That alone is the most attractive thing you ever experienced with a man. 

And when he plays with your thumb, you can’t help but to squeeze your thighs together. Watch him intently sneak a glance as you do so, knowing your dress has ridden up a little, exposing your tanned thighs, swathed with the brown leather of your boots. Your position also provides him the intriguing reveal of a secret—you’re wearing knee socks underneath. They were invisible to his sight this whole time and now that he sees them, his eyes linger there for a few seconds longer before he drags his teeth along his bottom lip, flicking his gaze back to the road. 

“You’re wearing knee socks under those?” he asks, his voice low and tortured. Doesn’t look at you as he does. Only shifts the gear stick again, stiffly. You imagine something else is stiff, too, and you smile, a tendril of confidence clothing you in allure and sinful, dark joy. It beckons your vivacity to drive forward. 

You move his hand to let the pads of his fingers feel the smooth fabric. His body twitches, his lungs inhaling a short, soft air, mouth parted, eyes unblinking, gloomy just like the heavens above. A thunder sounds and you feel like roaring just the same. 

“It matches my underwear,” you murmur and the thunder prolongs, echoing feebly. You drag his hand down your thigh with the intention to also make him feel the nylon material of your panties, but he halts your movement halfway, hand gripping your flesh, trembling ever so slightly, stirring your confidence. You almost moan at his brusqueness. 

“Don’t,” he scolds, brows furrowing, chest heaving in that slow manner. His lips dry and he wets them. Doesn’t spare you a glance. Turns the wheel with that one hand as he takes a left turn, his posture slouched, thighs spread, a small tent evident in between. His arousal for you grows and it only propels you to finish the job, knowing his scolding was merely a warning, not a portrayal of his discomfort. And he proves you right with his next words. “If you do that, I’ll crash this fucking car.” 

You laugh through your nose, your confidence and your own arousal fluttering in you, begging to be let out. Your favorite artist starts playing and you’re not surprised by the way your body reacts. Your thighs naturally spread and you move your pelvis forward. Feel your slick dampening your panties even more, trickling down your needy seashell just as The Weeknd begins to sing about your desire. 

“I wanna fuck you slow with the lights on…” 

You lick your lips, inhaling deeply and exhaling with a soft moan. Hobi digs his fingernails into your skin, coaxing another one out of you and he calls you by your name in a sterner warning. You caress the edge of his hand with the thought in mind that you’ve always loved the crescent moon, so it would only be illogical for you to not want more of it imprinted on your skin. 

“You shouldn’t praise me then,” you croak out, doused in adrenaline-tinged lust, your sweat heavy upon you. You clutch your cherub necklace, needing to be touched, a habit of yours that you’ve had ever since you were a teenage girl. Your fingers graze your collarbones, lingering in the dip between them. “Besides, you’re such a good driver that I think you can handle it.” 

Hobi hums out an endearing laugh, that smirk of his reappearing on his mouth. He rubs the moons he impressed into your thigh from side to side and your hips buck, asking for that movement down low where you need him the most. 

“You have a praise kink?” he questions and you catch him bite his lip, catch him enjoying that information, sinking it into his flesh. You want to kiss it, bruise it, make it permanent for a little while. You revel in such a dirty, yet gentle conversation and you stop yourself from bucking your hips again. 

“A severe praise kink,” you correct him, emphasizing the adjective with a bit of a bratty tone to divulge to him what he does to you and how much he needs to pay for it. And before you can go on, he catches you off guard. 

“If you want me to keep praising you then rub your clit,” he negotiates with you, taking your hand and moving the gear stick, leaving it there. “And you’re wrong. I can’t handle you like this. I can’t touch you when I’m responsible for your life.” 

Daddy. The title would’ve slipped out of the tip of your tongue had a moan not been first, coating the ambience with a sultriness that makes you tug at his hand in order to do as he says, in order to be praised, to be gratified. But Hobi doesn’t budge. He tightens his grip around the shift stick, clicking his tongue. 

“No, baby. With your other hand,” he orders, his breath shaking and amidst the enveloping of his fatherliness around you, strengthening you and binding you with ropes of safety, girlishness and seductiveness, you scrunch up your brows, wanting his hand to be there when you make yourself feel good. 

And you tell him. 

“I want you to help me.” 

The rain thickens, creating a sensual background noise to the next slow song playing and Hobi sighs, disliking your attitude. Your arousal grows to highs you’ve never seen before, a sweet, pleasing darkness consuming you, sprinkling you with glitters of appetite and craze. 

All because your sexual chemistry is so good, so strong—so natural, despite the fact you just met and don’t know each other enough for it to be possible. It exceeds the laws of human connection and the feeling of it is heady, intoxicating you with wine of the ripest cherries. You even feel as though this is your first alcoholic drink. Feel as though you’re an unspoiled virgin on the cusp of her very first sin—the Virgin Mary with long hair, cherub necklace, tanned skin, knee socks and high-heeled boots. 

Hobi erases your past life. Paints a new one with watercolors; paints you anew. You know the dulcet taste of fatherliness and manliness from Jungkook and while it was what you needed at the time, sexually that is—as it wasn’t often that he used this kind of energy day-to-day, and if he did, it was to tease you—what Hobi does runs deeper. It surpasses your need; it’s not a filling that will decompose soon enough and ask for it again. It’s something else entirely. 

It’s something that falls upon you and stays. Clicks and connects with no way out. It’s another layer of skin, strands of hair growing out of your scalp, the drum of the vein upon your neck. 

It began in the museum and uncoils here. It’s not worth it to juxtapose it with what you had before—it’s laughable to do so. Hobi has established his fatherliness the moment he held your coat as a heathen in a church, not taking his gaze off of your intimate prayers for even a split second. Unkinked it with his honesty and by expressing his responsibility over you, listening to the murmur of the sea of your sexual need but not diving head-first into it, knowing better. And now it is ready to bloom with flowerets, with fruits, with leaves to accompany you. 

“It’s this or nothing,” Hobi decides, squeezing his fingers against yours to also emphasize the gravity of his words and you purse your lips in response, finding the ultimatum so attractive. “You live thirty minutes away, so you either rub your clit on your own or you wait. It’s up to you.” 

It’s mind blowing to you how he went from being timid to now ordering you to pleasure yourself. You’re sweltering beneath your clothes and Hobi notices, looking at your body through his rear view mirror. He turns the heating up and you laugh, blush deepening, eyes crinkling at the corners. Your heart thuds heavily in your chest. 

“Why didn’t you put your seatbelt on?” he mutters, letting go of your hand and giving you a mean look that makes your walls clench and your throat let out a low, almost soundless moan. 

You never put a seatbelt on. As dangerous as it, you hate the way it chokes you due to your small stature and you tell him. “It chokes me, Hobi, I don’t really like it.” 

Hobi doesn’t respond. He reaches over and drags down the seatbelt adjuster without taking his eyes off of the road, driving steadily. His patchouli scent hits your nostrils and you nuzzle your nose into his bicep, fingers curling around his arm, smelling him in a simple, comfortable manner. Hobi gives you a quick smile and you hear the sound of him pulling on the seatbelt, but then a pedestrian runs across the previously empty crosswalk, forcing him to stomp on the brake abruptly and your heart nearly skips out of your chest. Almost flying forward, Hobi holds you in place with his strong arm, which you cradle against your quickening chest. 

Exchanging a look, you both pant in tandem and Hobi shakes his head at you. Panic lines his dark eyelashes and he immediately grabs the seatbelt and, tugging harshly, he sinks it into the buckle, placing the belt behind your back. He doesn’t acknowledge the pedestrian lifting his palm in apology and neither do you, too preoccupied with the fact he just saved your life. 

“You wear a seatbelt in my car. No buts. Understand?” 

Too shocked by the twist of events and too touched by the gesture and the sternness of his words, you nod. He pats your thigh, the one he marked, fondling the skin with his thumb, and it drives you to say something. “I’m sorry, Hobi. I’ll wear the seatbelt from now on.” 

You mean it. This has never happened to you before as you usually take the public transport, but you do understand now how dangerous it is to not wear one. Your heartbeat calms and the aftershocks of the adrenaline come to the surface, scattering along your figure. Numbness melts and your arousal returns at full speed. 

Hobi nods, smiling gently, pleased with your apology, and you feel so peculiarly gratified that you managed to do something like that to him. He sinks his fingers under your thigh and you marvel at the size of his hand because his thumb still remains there on the top of the flesh, even as he wraps his digits around you like that. Kneading just once before he lifts them and begins to tap on his screen again, shifting the energy with the voice of your favorite artist. He moves the gear, accelerating. 

“Why you rushing me, baby? It’s only us, alone,” The Weeknd sings and you sigh, your body loosening up. You hike the seatbelt around your hips higher, curling lower on the leather, thighs parting until your knee taps his hand. You miss his touch and you long for it again, finding its warm ghost on your skin not enough. 

“You like The Weeknd, don’t you?” Hobi says, his pinky finger brushing along your sock-clad knee, causing you to almost twitch. 

You smile, relishing in the love you have for the singer. “I’ve spent ten years of my life loving him.” 

Liking your answer, Hobi skims his fingers along the side of your inner thigh until he finds yours, intertwining them—this time his palm closed over the back of your hand, placing it to its former position on the stick. It’s warmed by him and you love it so much that you search for his thumb, playing with it. 

“I could tell,” he breathes, his tone deepened by a heartfelt emotion that moves through you. You raise your brows in curiosity and question, wondering how that has come to be. Glancing at you to see your reaction, Hobi laughs softly, his heart evident in the sound, coated with it entirely, and you catch his thumb, holding it, on the verge of bursting. “I saw what you did when I put him on.” 

You round the tip of your tongue along your top lip, recollecting well what you did when you heard him. “What did I do?” 

A beat of silence between you and him, he lets the singer sing his elegy. Then, his index finger traces your manicured nail on the same digit. “You spread your legs. Made such a pretty sound that I almost stopped this fucking car and fucked you until the whole city could heard it.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat and you’re too late to halt the moan from slipping out, a fire coursing down from the top of your head to your toes. You want a taste of his desire so bad that you’ll do anything for it. Even let the seatbelt choke you to death. 

Hobi gives you a look, one that chills your blood this time. But it feels absolutely exhilarating.

He calls your name. “Don’t do that to me. Not here.” 

Your breath trembles as you scurry to regain your composure, sliding up in your seat. Hobi, too, stops that movement by cradling your thigh, putting it back to the stick once you get the message. 

Why does this feel better than if he gave in? 

“What if I want to?” you challenge and Hobi rubs his eyes, slapping his hand back onto the steering wheel. Frustration, it looks so good on him. “What if I want you to fuck me here?” 

He shakes his head, just once, biting his lip, reddening the pillow. “No, I don’t share.” 

Fuck. 

This is a point of no return. You will never be the same after what he said and you feel your attachment melting into his chest, dissolving there into leaves from your fruit trees. Your imaginary wings flit, aroused from his possessiveness. 

“You know what to do,” he adds without looking at you, turning up the volume as if to subdue your incoming moans. 

A cherry on the top of the fucking cake. 

You don’t waste a precious second. Lifting the hem of your dress, you expose your drenched panties, a large wet spot in the center darkening the black fabric. Hobi doesn’t spare you a glance. No, he takes your intertwined hands and fixes his rear view mirror, tipping it down. Dangerous, but smart. Responsible. 

It’s those glimmering flecks of his character that drive your fingers to pull your panties to the side, but Hobi, once again, stops you. 

With words, this time. 

“Do you want me to die?” he rasps, tortured—horribly tortured and you cup your femininity, coaxing a groan out of him. “Do it over your panties, baby. Please.” 

He begged. You don’t think you ever heard that word come out of a man’s mouth in your life and you break, whimpering, pulling your panties back in their place over your pussy, dragging the tip of your middle finger up and down your dripping slit, sighing. Adding your index, you put pressure to the sides of your clit as you slide your digits in the same direction, over and over, teasing yourself, breathing out little moans that make him grip the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. 

Hobi glances once at what you’re doing and swears. “Fuck, rub your clit. Don’t tease yourself, baby. Make yourself feel good.” 

With a mewl, you stick your fingers together and begin a series of circles, doing as he says. Your eyes roll back, head knocking back into the leather, satisfaction seizing your body and sweetening it. The material of your panties is so flimsy that it feels as though your fingers are stroking your bare flesh and when you tug the fabric to your hole to wet it and rub your clit harder, your moans gain volume, mingling with The Weeknd’s poetry seamlessly and magnificently, dethroning the rain. 

And then Hobi shifts the gear stick with your hand and drives so fast that your pleasure deepens, thrill rushing in your veins. You match your circles to that speed, your sounds becoming obnoxious, whiny squeaks when you look at him to see his jaw clenched, chest heaving and the tent in his pants larger than you last checked it. 

Hobi skims his fingers along your forearm, back and forth, cradling it. Senses your stare and reciprocates it, catching you at your best when you find your spot and buck your hips, furrowing your brows. He moans, clutching your thigh. 

“So good. Such a good girl, rubbing her clit for me to get praised. Fuck, baby. You’re doing so good.” 

You lift your fingers in order not to come, the aftershocks of your ripped away orgasm quivering throughout your whole body and you squeeze his hand, letting go—wrapping it around his tent, instead. You figure he deserves it for praising you like that. 

He finds your lidded, mischievous eyes in the rear view mirror and he flattens his lips, a brutal expression on his face that should make you scared, but it doesn’t. It only spurs you on. You graze your palm on him, causing his breath to quicken, and you whimper when you search and search for the tip of his cock. He’s slender, but big and your mouth dries. 

“You almost made me come with what you said,” you say, truthfully, retracing your path down his length, his breath, now hardened, wafting over you. You love the way he focuses on the road with every fiber of his being as you’re toying with him. Love watching him grit his teeth, narrow his eyes; love watching sweat adorn his flushed chest and neck. You ache to bite him there. 

And you would—had he not buckled you in place. 

You don’t notice you’ve arrived at your apartment until he stops the car and turns to face you, leaning his elbow on the center console. Nobody could gaslight you into believing that ride took thirty minutes. Nobody. 

Hobi made that fifteen. Ferally. For you. 

You can see it in his shining face—his need for you, his desire, the fact he sped down the road because you’re so horny. And you ache to kiss him. 

“You really do have a praise kink,” he says, mutedly. Must be thinking the same because his gaze flicks to your lips. You lick them for him, encouraging him to do it. “Almost coming from me praising you. Such a good girl.” 

You hiss, the drum in your clit returning, stealing your attention. Hoseok grins, pleased to be proven right, pleased that you make it so easy for him. You squeeze his length and he makes the same sound, gritting his teeth briefly before he pouts. 

“What’s this?” he asks, speaking of your hand placement. “When did I allow you to do this?” 

You breathe heavily, descending your fingers to his full balls, feeling them perfectly due to the silky fabric of his dress pants. You knead them and he moans, the sound traveling right to your yet again needy bundle of nerves. Your hand automatically flies to it, rubbing it, and Hobi curses, eyes narrowing, fixed on the movement of your fingers. 

“It’s asking for me, isn’t it?” you murmur, sliding your hand back to his manhood and his pools almost go cross, head tilting back. Your pleasure from your motions expands, your nerve endings burning. 

“I’m so hard for you,” he agrees, his hand clasping over yours, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows with great difficulty, the column of his throat such a thing of beauty for you that it forces you to unclip your seatbelt. You’re about to crawl onto his lap, but one darkened look from him makes you decide against it. “Show me that pussy, baby.” 

Your moan has a certain elation to it, giddy at the fact you get to expose such an intimate part of you to him, giddy that he’s taking this to another level. 

You slide your drenched panties to the side and at the sight of your glistening pussy Hobi groans deeply.

“Lean against the door,” he commands, wiping at his mouth and you tremble all over, more than delighted that he’s reacting to you this way. 

You swivel, propping your back against the leather of his door and Hobi lifts your legs, spreading them. You hook one of them around the back of his headrest while the other dangles in his hold. His gaze zeroes in on your pussy and as he bites his lip, he acknowledges himself with her by tracing the flesh with his thumb. Your clit, your lips before he circles your gushing hole, groaning, bettering the song you barely can hear. Your confidence and your allure skyrockets and you follow his digit, riding it, begging for more of his touch. He plays chase with you until both of you and him can’t take it anymore and when his thumb is completely soaked, he lifts it to your mouth—only to fuck with you, though, because he plunges it inside his, leaving your own parted for nothing. 

You’re embarrassed, but he likes it. Whimpers around his finger. Pushes your knee to your shoulders and dives right in. 

You yelp, grabbing a hold of his hair as he licks over your clit, closing his lips over it and sucking until your eyes roll back, until all your still parted mouth knows is his name and your thick heel digs into his shoulder. 

But you moan the wrong variation and he’s quick to correct you with a dripping chin, his hands on either side of you, face merely inches away from yours. “That’s Hoseok for you, not Hobi.” 

Red all over, you can only moan in response, gripping his hair until he hisses in pain. He strums your clit without breaking eye contact, so slippery and swollen from his attack. The orchard in you grows, brims with fruit that is on the cusp of bursting, the berries in you big and full. His eyes narrow furthermore, pupils dilated, causing his gaze to darken in ways you’ve never thought could be possible. 

“Moan my name, baby. Show me how good I’m making you feel.” 

The wrong variation slips again, all due to the mind numbing pleasure he’s giving you. He adds more pressure to his fingers for a second before he withdraws and slaps your thigh. And slaps it again. 

“I can’t praise you if you don’t learn well, can I?” he mutters and you whine so loudly that his eyes round, body growing boneless. “Fuck, baby, if you keep making sounds like that I’m gonna come in my pants.” 

You scramble your words, find it the most difficult thing in the world. And he doesn’t help you. Not when he sinks a long finger inside your heat, fucking you slowly until you can take him. You lose your mind altogether. 

“You’re making me feel too-too good,” you breathe out, hiccuping as he adds a second finger in, silencing you when he gives you long strokes. You follow his gaze down and perceive that he’s watching you soak his digits. He twists them, moaning, a litany of mad, mad curses falling out of his mouth in a hushed tone. 

“So wet just from me praising you, oh my God,” Hobi comments and you squeeze your eyes shut, taking it as he begins to pound you to the hilt, his arm bulging, his whole body moving. “Eyes on me. What do you call me when I make you feel this good, hm? I already told you. Just remember.” 

You know which variation he means and wants to hear, but your tongue curls, aching to utter a different name that he deserves to be called by. 

And you say it, opening your eyes and boring them into his. “Daddy.” 

And you don’t stop saying it. Not when he closes his eyes for a split second, agonized by such saccharinity. Not when he undoes the button of his pants and pulls himself out while thumbing your clit. You gasp, legs quivering, what you touched brought to reality and your orgasm nears, especially when he fist-fucks his length. 

Hoseok draws back down to your clit, licking it over, nuzzling his face in it as he drinks your nectar right from the source, his wet fingers from you making squeaky sounds around his girth, causing you to scream, the intensity of the moment running so deep and you’re too weak to take it, overwhelmed by his arousal. 

He lifts his head for a moment. “I want you to call me Daddy when you come on my tongue,” he rasps amidst his growls, never stopping the movement around his cock, and you nod your head, vehemently, willing to do anything for him.

“I’m so close.” 

Hoseok pouts. “That’s so good, baby. You know what to do?” 

You swallow. “I’m gonna call you Daddy when I come.” 

He grins at you and the expression breaks when he fucks his tip, his brows casting a shadow on his face. You break along with it, shuddering—pleasured from watching him pleasure himself. And you break again when he praises you for your good answer. “Such a good girl. You’re gonna come hard for me?” 

You don’t get to say your yes because when he sucks your clit into his mouth and groans against it as he flicks it with his tongue, he’s a witness to it himself. The fruits in your orchard explode and he drinks their juices, running the muscle all over your pussy, his mouth smacking, enjoying every drop. You squeal the title, forcing pleased growls out of him that deepen when you swear, repeating the name over and over again until your orgasm smooths down the perimeters of your body, slowly dwindling away.  

You can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t see. White dots flood your vision and the only thing that grounds you is Hobi taking your hand in his. The dots swim away, revealing him on the verge of his own orgasm as he tugs on his length, rapidly now. 

“That was so good, baby. You came so well for me. Called me Daddy like I wanted. Good girl,” he praises and your moans are an endless stream, enveloping around his cock, which he guides your hand towards. The weight of it, his warmth, the protruding veins, you could come again just from the feel of him. “Jerk off your Daddy. He’s close, too, from the way you came for him.” 

The third person, fuck. You bite your lip, focusing on his tip as you grip him, twisting your wrist. His skin is sticky from your nectar and you spit onto your hand, earning a praise from him that makes your mind spin, even though you heard those two words plenty of times throughout your sinful date. 

It will never get old—it will only make your femininity wetter for him. 

And his growls, the same could be applied to them. They propel you to fuck him faster while your fingers sneak over to your sensitive clit that he provokes, rubbing circles that cloud your vision with a mist, painting him to be an angel—like the one you saw in the museum. 

And when he comes, he grows a pair of glorious wings. Black, with hints of rose gold and pinks. His body doubles over, hands propped on the dashboard and the passenger seat as he spills for you, ropes of cum painting your stomach in that eternal ivory color that serves as skin for those sculptures. In a way you become them once he praises you for making him come, his breaths a legato rivulet that gives you life, his hips snapping, fucking your hand. 

He smears his cum on your tanned stomach, fingers dipping below the waistband of your panties to discover a lighter shade of skin, marveling at the difference. Light passes through his eyes before he covers your pussy with the fabric, opening the glove department to fetch some tissues, cleaning you up, dragging down your dress and helping you sit up.

It’s at this moment, as he’s kneeling—towering over you and you’re sitting on your bum with your hands folded on your lap like the good girl he made you into, that he clutches the back of your neck and smashes his mouth into yours, moving it against you with such strength and vigor that you struggle to devour him in the same manner. It causes you to claw at his sides, to long to see his body in its full, bare beauty. His imaginary wings wrap around you, sealing the resplendence of your orgasm profoundly inside your skin and when he tastes you, his growls traveling down your throat are the raindrops that the orchard inside you needs in order to grow. You help him by moaning back, the aftertaste of you the sunlight. 

Piercing his gaze into yours, he caresses your hair, messes up your diligently fixed updo. Catches your ribbon as it falls, wrapping it around his hand, the wisps dangling from his fingers like your leg was just a few moments ago. 

You’re so satisfied that you could cry. 

You don’t even understand what just happened and how it came to be. Don’t remember what occurred before you sat down in his car—Hobi has completely and wholly erased it. 

And it’s him who notices that your hand still carries the remnants of him. You don’t care to look—you can’t rip your gaze away from the shine on his face, from the gratification smoothing out his features, from the pink flush decorating the perfect redness of his swollen lips. But Hobi forces you to, in the tenderest of ways. Looks lovingly at your palm, cooing, shooting that look into your eyes, where it unfolds, creates something new that you never experienced before. And when he grins, your stomach flips, winged creatures intoxicated with madness inside. 

“You see what you did?” he whispers, the love in his eyes expanding, growing warmer, burning you faintly. “I want you to lick it up. You deserve every drop.” The breath you let out causes him to tremble and you cradle the fabric of his shirt in your fist. Hobi kisses your fingers, looking at you through them, his smile quivering. “Stick out your tongue for me, baby.” 

You do and he slides your palm over it, his salty nectar the sea that swam against your body a week ago in your healing time and you moan, devouring his taste like he devoured your mouth, licking it up, collecting it until there’s nothing left. You show him your tongue, then, and Hobi plays with it, using his thumb, your ribbon wrapped around his hand tickling your chin. He rubs it on the muscle, playing chase with you again until he tells you to suck it. And the sound that descends from his lips once you do makes you squeeze your thighs together, your own wetness dripping out of you. 

To end it, Hobi kisses your forehead, lingering there for a few seconds longer. Caresses your mouth, tracing each line, tracing your cupid’s bow, making you glisten with your own saliva. A shining, lively angel—just like him. You whimper. 

“Swallow it, baby.” 

You do, showing him the evidence that you obeyed after. 

“Good girl.” 

You take the underside of him, semi hard, into your hand, giggling, heart thumping. “You just made me horny all over again.”

Hobi hums, brushing his ribbon-clad fingers through your hair from the crown of your head. You want him to do that once you suck him off. “And you’re gonna make me hard all over again if you touch me like that.” 

You mimic the noise he made, squeezing him. Hobi curses, delighting you. “Let’s go inside. I owe you that breakfast, don’t I?” 

He kisses you, softly, with a hint of harshness that causes your nipples to harden painfully against your bra. You almost rub your clit again, so fucking out of it, crazed. 

“You do, baby.” 

You got everything you wanted in such a small amount of time that your vision twirls. Hobi is holding your hand as you’re leading him to your apartment, your ribbon still hanging from yours and his intertwinement, and your heart hasn’t stopped beating feverishly in your chest. Not even once. 

You’re facing the inevitable as you watch Hobi unlace his dress shoes on his knee, his cock stiff and uncomfortable in his pants. You’re brazenly falling for him. You know your hormones swirling your system from the lustfulness you indulged in aren’t to blame—if there’s anyone to blame, then it’s Hobi himself. You consider him to be such a beautiful person that you would be absolutely stupid, blind and deaf not to fall for him. And what’s more, you sense your decline to be safe. Stable. A leverage that won’t ever break. A ribbon that won’t fray. 

It’s as strange as it is inviting and your submission comes naturally to you. And this time, you don’t fear it won’t last. Don’t fear you’ll let up. There’s a sense vibrating in you that assures you that Hobi will take care of it. Put it back where it belongs if it ever strays. You don’t have to monitor it. You don’t have to do shit. 

You were wrong about one more thing. Hobi isn’t Daddy. 

He’s Father. 

It’s this thought that drives you to take off your dress and leave it in the middle of the floor that leads to your kitchen. You’re barren down to your soaked underwear, bra and knee socks, your feet basking in the way they don’t have to ache in your boots anymore. Pulling a plate of eggs out of the refrigerator, you set it on the counter, preparing a pan by oiling it on the stove. You hear Hobi’s feet pad on the floor as you pop some bread in the toaster and you turn your head, seeing only his dark silhouette standing behind you, your dress and your ribbon in his hands. 

Your heart quickens, abnormally. 

“How do you like your eggs?” you ask, resuming your cooking as you break the shell of an egg on the lip of the pan, spilling the delight into the bubbling oil. 

Hobi crosses the distance and you can only feel the softness of your ribbon when he places his hands on your hips, letting them travel until they stumble across the pooch of your lower belly. He groans, holding you there, pressing his hard, silk-clad cock against your nearly bare bum. 

Self-consciousness creeps in as he kneads one of your insecurities and you quiver, clasping your hand over his, your confidence wavering. 

“However you like them is how I like them,” Hobi flirts and you laugh through your nose, shaking your head, waiting for the egg white to fade into that milky color he painted your stomach with. 

Sunny side up it is. 

“Hobi, your game is out of this world,” you flirt back, sliding your spatula under the egg to check if it’s done before you can flip it. 

Hobi lowers himself onto his knees and you gasp, soundlessly. He begins to scatter violent kisses along the dots upon the flesh of your bum, sucking it into his mouth as if it were an orange he was sinking his teeth into. You have to grip the counter in order not to fall over, willing strength into your weakened legs. 

He bites the supple roundness of your ass cheek, smoothing out the pain with a flick of his tongue and kisses, gentle ones this time around. Hums. “Is it?” 

He glides his nose along the inner of your thigh, rooting right in the center of your pussy, burying his face there. You turn around halfway, arching your back, latching onto his hair that you’ve ruined, egg long forgotten. 

“Your thighs are wet again, fuck,” he whispers, mouthing your clit before he descends once again to them, licking them over, drinking your nectar that he’s created. Trails his tongue back up and, sliding your panties to the side, he takes you into his mouth, growling as he sucks onto your lips, playing with them using his tongue, hands spreading your ass cheeks, so he can have more space to make you absolutely lose yourself in him. 

And it’s working. Even more so when he begins to swirl his tongue around that other, tiny hole, causing your eyes to go cross before they roll back. Your head dips into a dreamy daze, where time doesn’t exist as he switches between flicking your clit and eating your ass and it isn’t until a certain burning smell suffuses your nostrils that you snap out of it. 

You’ve burned his egg, its edges black like the feathers of his imaginary wings, and you yelp, turning off the stove, pushing the pan away. 

“Hobi, I burned your egg,” you exclaim and he bends you over the counter while still remaining on his knees for you, sucking your clit with all the strength he possesses. Your climax pinches you in warning, lovingly, promising to melt over you like rain soon, so very soon. 

Hobi doesn’t give a fuck about his egg, it seems. 

“Just a little more, please,” he begs, moving his flat tongue from side to side on your bud, hands descending down your wet thighs until he reaches your knee socks, stopping there. Whimpers. 

That would’ve thrown you over the edge had he not pulled away, fingers wrapping around your knees. 

You turn around and the sight of him on his knees with his glazed nose, mouth and chin, with his cock pitifully erect in his pants, creating a print that makes you salivate, absolutely and irrevocably breaks you. You can still hear his plea ring in your mind, begging you to give him a few more seconds of your pussy, and your brain malfunctions. Numbness tightens around your fingers when you cradle his face and it feels so real when you do so—the fact that you’re wanted, desired; the fact that Hobi is the one in submission to you, dominant yet attentive to you to the point that he would never want do anything you wouldn’t. He listens to you, carves his life around you… and he hasn’t even known you for a month. 

You messed up his hair—and when you run your fingers through his strands, you feel your powerful ruination sifting through them, feel your seduction and your confidence, alive and breathing in that thick, dark brown mop of his. And now you crave to mess up his skin. Bruise it. Stain it with the pinks you can see in his imaginary wings. Watch them turn yellow like the rose gold in their flecks over the following days. 

You’re not letting go of him. 

Not when he looks at you like you’re Virgin Mary and he’s a sinner. 

You pull him up by the collars of his shirt, wrinkling the fabric, adding to the ruination, and it’s electrifying. He’s the cleanest sinner you’ve ever had the grace to see and you want to stain him. Beyond the stickiness of your juices. And when he towers over you and cages you in between his buff body and the counter, hands on either side of you upon the marble, his patchouli scent making you bloodthirsty, you don’t kiss him. No, you go straight for his neck. 

He didn’t expect it, groaning when you lick a stripe over his vein, sucking the skin inside your mouth. Over and over again until the sucking noises make him twitch and fist the ends of your hair, pressing his cock against your stomach. You’re feral, you’re inhuman, scattering kisses along that column like you’ve never had a man in your hands before. And it’s true. You never have. It was always you who had been in men’s hands. Never the other way around. 

Your fingers gain feeling when you undo the buttons of his shirt, ripping some of them, secretly preventing him from going to work after you’re finished with him. Unless you plaster your correcting concealers on him, he really can’t step a foot outside. The bruise you left on his column is huge, purply red, and the only thing it’s missing is bite marks. A joy rotates in you, rooting from the fact that you’re changing his plans, that you have an effect on him, and you unfold that emotion when you tug that shirt down his broad shoulders and press a kiss in the middle of his chest. 

But then Hobi grips your hair on the crown on your head, making you look at him. 

And you can’t explain it to yourself, why you like being manhandled like that, despite the freedom you just experienced. Like a child, whose father let her run free before he scolded her and told her to stop, for she ran for too long and it’s getting cold. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, lowly, and the tone etches itself onto your own throat because your answer is ready on the tip of your tongue, unabashed, dirty, throbbing.

“I need you to fuck me.” 

Hobi blinks, his brows rising, a light like a comet shooting past his irises before an unbounded, starless night shrouds them. 

You’ve done it. You’ve stained him. Now he needs to come all over you. Make a mess. Paint you again. 

He slackens his hold on your hair. Runs his hand down the length. “If I fuck you, I’ll breed you.” Curls his hand around your throat, where those words form a new necklace, plated with that rose gold. Your mouth parts, a moan falling past, your nectar in tandem, mind dizzy from the idea of being stuffed full of his cum. He flattens his palm over your sternum, hooks his fingers over the band of your bra in the middle of your breasts. You hope he chisels the lines of his hand into your skin. You want to wear him. “Are you on birth control?” 

You stopped taking it the moment you were broken up with. Didn’t think you’d need it so soon. Didn’t think you’d have a man in your life again, let alone sleep with him. 

Your body desires to please Hoseok so resolutely that a wisp of your regret swathes around his wrist—regret that you threw away those pills that are the driving force in his sexuality. He might have been okay with not taking this any further, but you’re not. You’re far, far from okay. 

You want to be bred. You want to be bred so much that you could cry. 

Your mouth pouts, but your sadness doesn’t touch your seduction. It merely heightens it. 

“You have a breeding kink?” you ask, mimicking his former words, causing him to drag his tongue over his lips slowly, divulging his arousal. It’s another tree that begins to grow in your orchard, planted by your bare hands. A cherry tree, its pink flowerets the flush that spreads across his prominent pecs. You want to make them shiny with your tongue. 

And you do. 

You place wet kisses over the underside of his left pec, nibbling on the skin, your small stature making it easy for you. Hobi inhales a sharp breath, sneaking his fingers under the cup of your bra, grasping your breast, squeezing until you whimper. 

��A severe breeding kink,” Hoseok corrects you, just like you did in his car. He pulls down your bra straps, his hand quick to undo the clasp on your back, disposing you of the undergarment, dropping it onto the ground. Gooseflesh spreads across your skin and you let him feel it, let him feel the effect he has on you by pressing yourself against him, twisting your arms around his torso. 

A tender hug, in the middle of a bonding moment. You’d be so happy, you’d laugh, you’d skip, if you had never thrown away those pills.

You wonder if he feels the drum of your heart, if he feels how it’s creating a brand new music that no human, no celestial being has ever heard before. 

“I stopped taking birth control several weeks ago, Hobi,” you say, your regret and your sadness lowering your tone. Hobi coos and it makes you want to sob. “Did you bring a condom?” 

He caresses your bare back, your hair a stream of a waterfall that he parts with his hand. “No, I didn’t expect this to happen.” 

You do the same for him, burying your face deeper into his chest, perceiving that you’re embracing a pure angel. You engrave patterns into his skin, feathers of wings that are dripping with the fire of stars. Even though you’re dying to get fucked, this tenderness is, little by little, appeasing your darkness in a way you don’t really understand. 

“We don’t have to do anything. I can make you come with my mouth again,” Hobi says, drifting his nails along the perimeter of your shoulder blade while his other hand grips your waist. The memory of the moons to the sky you paint on his back.

You lift your head. Meet the gray clouds in his eyes. “You want to breed me that bad?” 

A smile curls one end of his mouth. “It’s what you deserve.” 

The same smile finds a way to your mouth, then blossoms into a grin, your heart a heavy music, and you press it into the middle of his chest. Bite him there, his growls another instrument in the song. He clutches the hair at the nape of your neck, coaxing out a similar sound, your darkness a wave that ebbs to and fro. 

“Put it in my ass, then.” 

Hobi calls you by your name, sternly. 

“What?” 

He sighs. “You want to get fucked in your ass on the first date?” 

You don’t know what part of his sentence makes you hiccup. Whether it’s his purity, the fact that such an angel voiced out that lewd desire of yours and didn’t jump head-first into its sea—or whether he acknowledged, once again, that this is a date. Hobi laughs, endearingly, and you blush. He kisses your cheek, lifting your chin, placing a chaste kiss onto your lips and you could die right now and know you’ll be entering the pearly gates. He’s saved a spot for you there, negotiated with God that you’ll spend your eternity there like the businessman he is. 

It’s what propels you to get on your knees. 

“Baby.” 

And it’s him stopping you each time you want more that makes you fall for him harder. 

“You’re so good to me, Hoseok, I can’t help it. I want to give back to you as much as I can.” 

He utters a low, deep curse, tipping up his chin as he cradles your face in both hands. Helps you stand to your feet, kisses you with something that doesn’t resemble the chastity of before and you moan into his mouth, digging moons into his back. You press your pelvis against his thighs, frustrated that you can’t reach his manhood and Hobi hears you, lifts you up and you wrap your legs around him, grinding your femininity against his manliness, squeaking the same curses down his throat. 

“Fuck, baby, grind that pussy on me like that. Just like that, yes. You learn well, don’t you? You’re such a good girl, you just need to get fucked, don’t you, baby?” 

You agree with every word, your expression of pleasure saying the words for you, and Hobi moans, pushing your hips down on him while he meets you each time. 

“Where’s your bedroom, baby?” 

“Down the hall. First door to the right.” 

You suck on his neck as he takes you there, plopping you down onto the edge of your bed. You watch your hands undo the button of his pants, but then he accidentally kicks into something and you know exactly what it is. 

An orange Nike box filled with the two toys you own. 

And Hobi wouldn’t have crouched to get it had you not started giggling. 

How thrilling it is—to see him holding something so private, something no one has ever seen before. 

He palms his cock once he discovers what’s inside, rolling his eyes back. He throws the box next to you on the mattress, pushing you back and ripping your panties out of your body in a split second. Your giggles die, replaced by whimpers, replaced by the beat of your clit and his vulgarities as he pins your knees down, gazing, lovingly, at the way your nectar trickles down to your other hole. He bends to lick it up and you die, too. 

“Naughty fucking girl. How can you be so naughty and so good at the same time? You’re making me lose my mind,” Hobi snarls, putting his entire weight into the back of your knees and you gush for him, gasping, not able to take his praise, your hips instinctually raising for more of his tongue, which he slaps your thigh for. Once, twice, three times, four times until you whimper so loudly that there’s nothing else left for him to do but let up, grab your pink hitachi and lay down on his back, guide you to sit on his face. 

It’s now that he takes the time to ogle your body. His night-tinged eyes glide along your tan lines, his fingers tracing them, making you shudder and rotate your hips above his mouth that he wets and keeps wetting as if it’s not enough to quench his thirst. 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he chokes out, brushing the pads of his fingers along your stiffened nipples. Fireworks shoot out above your orchard, casting a rainbow of colors upon the trees and bushes. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you to have you like this. You belong to that museum, baby, but I’d die if someone were to look at you in my place.” 

His possessiveness coated with so much affection and admiration for you elongate your imaginary wings. And you can’t halt the rounding of your mouth, the pool of tears that line your eyes, the cracking of your heart as you take in his precious words. You feel like flying; you feel like soaring free with the knowledge that with the two beats of his own wings he’ll catch up to you, fly with you like two doves. 

You want to kiss him. Pay your gratitude that way and when you begin to crawl down his body, he stops you by grabbing your waist, immobilizing you above his face. 

“Stay where you are. You’re not sitting on my cock until you come on my tongue. Is that what you want? Ride Daddy’s cock until he covers you with his cum?” 

You can’t take it anymore. You simply can’t. 

Hobi turns the vibrator to life and its buzzing sound makes you quiver. You lower yourself onto his mouth that he quickly opens for you, darting out his tongue. He lets you ride the muscle, guiding your hips to twirl in circles, and you hold onto your breasts for emotional support as you sense yourself slowly disappearing in him, in the pleasure he gives you, in his warm, dark aura. 

Your mouth has no lock, no force to stop it from speaking. 

“I was wrong, Hoseok,” you start, changing the direction—swinging your hips back and forth as you grab onto his hair with one hand while the other stimulates your nipple, making you pant, whine and so terribly out of it. “It’s not your game that’s out of this world. It’s your fucking dirty talk.” 

Hobi hums, flicking your hand away and pinching your nipple, causing you to tip your head back and pour more vigor into your movement, his mouth too busy to respond. 

“If you ever talk to anyone like this that’s not me, I’ll kill her, you hear me? She won’t live to see the next day.” 

It’s Hobi now that can’t seem to take it anymore. 

Holding you steady by the waist, he sits up, sucking on your clit with so much strength that you scream, your body shuttering so violently that you completely lose yourself. He throws you onto your pillows, raises your hips until they’re at level with his mouth and finishes his fucking job. Alternates between sucking and licking, stars flooding your vision, the ones you traced on his beautiful, broad back. 

You come and you don’t stop. 

Hobi spits on your clit and presses down the hitachi on it, moving it from side to side, your orgasm prolonging, reaching highs beyond the heavenly kind and all you can see is him, doused in colors that glimmer and his name, the right variation of it this time, falls from your lips like a prayer. Right variation, right prayer. 

Virgin Mary that is looking at her God. 

Setting the toy and your bum on the bed, he takes both of your hands into his fist as you’re still convulsing, in the middle of your undying orgasm. He lines his cock at your entrance, changes his mind last minute, and glides it along your sensitive pussy, holding himself at the base. Back and forth, the ebb and the flow of the sea. The sight does anything but calm you down. It supports the continuation of your orgasm. 

“Listen to me very carefully,” he whispers, lowering your hands to his manhood until they wrap around him. “This cock has been yours the moment you came out of this fucking building to meet me outside. Every ridge, every fucking vein is yours.” He squeezes your hold against him, moving it up and down in an agonizing way that makes him shudder just the same. God at a very breaking point. “And these—” He groans as he uses your hands to cup his balls. “These fucking kids are all yours. Yours to swallow. Yours to decorate this beautiful body with. Yours to stuff your little hole with.” Your chest doesn’t rise with any inhalation of breath. You’re motionless, bloodless, paralyzed through and through. Scorching to the touch. Horny beyond your senses. Hobi pins your hands above your head, lining himself up, at last, at your entrance. Sinks inside you in one swift, but vigorous motion until he’s buried in deep to the hilt and he consumes your scream, kissing you so hard that he sucks every last drop of life you had in you. Then, he nudges his nose against yours, kissing its tip as well. “So don’t think for a second that these eyes are for anyone else but you.” A brutal thrust. A yelp. A loss of time and surroundings. “I’m yours, pup. I’m fucking yours.” A mad, mad laughter. “I’ve known you for a week. Ate your pussy first before I kissed you. And you touched yourself in my fucking car because you got horny from the way I praised you in that museum. How could I not be yours?”

The pet name, the magnificence of his sonnet, the stillness of his cock as you clench around him—the very cozy feeling of him being at home, being at the mountain of Athos that you blessed. You feel so small beneath him, so taken care of—and you’re at loss for words, though only one remains in your otherwise erased vocabulary, and from the top of your lungs, you utter it.

“Daddy.” 

His imaginary wings flutter, the pink swelling over the black, and he growls, letting go of your hands and folding you in half, leaning his weight on the back of your thighs. Props an overlapped pillow beneath your bum, so you’re at the perfect level for him to start fucking you properly.

And he does, coaxing out your screams, causing your legs to shake on either side of his shoulders. 

“That’s right, pup. I’m your Daddy. You’re doing so good, screaming for me the way I like it.” 

Hobi pounds into you, giving you a half of his length that’s more than enough. Bends at the waist to scatter wet kisses along the back of your thigh, filling you to the hilt as he does so, your juices squelching around him, making such a serene, glorious sound that forces him to bite down hard onto your flesh. No alleviation after, just long and ruthless strokes while he stares down at you, eating you with his eyes. The ghost of the pain lingers, adding to the experience, adding volume to your whiny noises. 

“You’re taking it so well. You’re a good pup, aren’t you?” 

You sob, the pressure gyrating deep in your lower tummy, the pet name the thing that will throw you over the edge if he calls you by it again. “Yes, Daddy. I love it when you call me that.” 

A hum. “Oh, yeah?” 

There he fucking goes again. 

A dam rushes to break and you’re defenseless.

“Yeah, I love it so much that it’s gonna make me come.” 

Hobi sucks in a breath. “Tell me you’re my good little pup and I’ll let you come.” The same breath he inhaled lodges in your throat and you watch him with a blurry vision reach over for your hitachi and turn up the intensity until the vibrations are so loud that you hear them echoing within your headspace.

He fucks you faster, ridding you of any chance to speak. Teases you with the toy by placing it, barely, on your stiffened nipple, leaning over to moisten it with his tongue before doing it again. And you can’t stop it and neither can he, the way your orgasm overtakes your whole being. It’s at this moment, when he thrusts become sloppy, that you manage to croak out the words he wanted you to say. 

“I’m your good little pup, Hoseok, oh fuck, yes, yes,” you whisper, your sentence blending into an efflux of legato moans—and this, this is his very undoing. 

And Hobi does something you didn’t expect him to do. 

As colors burst in your perspective and your orgasm drags you under, he stimulates your clit with the toy, pulling out of you and pressing his tip against its vibrating side, growling so deeply that it forces your juices out of you, sprinkling him with its iridescent drops as he tugs at his length. He paints your stomach, paints the hitachi, his nectar so enormous that it lands upon your breasts, even as far as on your neck. His body glistens in sweat and now your essence—and looking at him with your hazy vision, another orgasm rolls in. 

You thrash your body so hard he has to pin you down, ripping the pillow out from behind you, laying down his weight on you. He kisses you and the lip lock lasts, seemingly, for a century. He moves his mouth against yours, basking in the feel of your puffy mouth as he alters between kissing you harshly and kissing you gently, getting to know you this way. 

And when he lets up to breathe, he brushes your hair away, flings the vibrator out until it falls off the bed. 

“Say it again,” Hobi says, affection flashing in his now rounded eyes, its warmth thumping. “Louder, for me.” 

Your throat is dry, but you manage to do it with a sleepy smile. Think you would do anything to please him. “I’m your good little pup.” 

Cupping your face, he kisses you with such tenderness that you begin to cry. Your tears soak his cheeks and he whimpers into your mouth, moved just the same by the depth, the vibrancy of the energy thickening between you. 

And when he looks at you, his own tears rush in his waterline. 

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, pausing for a second. “What have you done to me?”

When afternoon rolls in, Hobi is still tangled up in your sheets. You brought him breakfast to bed, one you didn’t burn this time, while he rested, naked and gratified, still flushed in pink, but clean from your shower. His patchouli scent intermingled with your body wash, cinnamon and lemon, concocting something intoxicating in you that made you see him with a halo above his head. He became a saint by giving in to his desires, by coming so hard that you still feel his hot ropes of cum singeing all those sensitive, intimate parts of your body. Hobi took his time tracing and smearing each and every drop, rubbing it deep in you as if he was digging a grave for your past. And you watched him do it, with tear-stained cheeks, acknowledging yourself, just as intimately, with the information that this is something Hobi likes to do.

You plan to put that into practice the next time you get to touch him. 

He’s grazing his fingers along your arm as you’re laying halfway on your side, halfway on him, your leg in between his. Seems to be lost in thought, seems to be searching for his words when he widens his travel across your body, going as far as to the peaks of your shoulder blades before returning back. You feel an inkling to help him, feel like it’s the least you can do. 

“What are you thinking about?” you try, dragging a finger across his collarbone. Hobi sighs, so terribly reactive to your touch, your head lifting in such a calming manner as he breathes in and out. 

“Did I scare you with what I said?”

His heart under your ear begins to hammer and right away you understand the gravity of his question. He’s lost himself in a flashback of today’s sinful events, but stumbled across a high, overpowering mountain of his bared emotions—the blessed mountain of Athos. And it seems as though he’s forgotten the way back, the trees around him growing dense, the trees of panic that whisper to him that, maybe, he made a mistake. 

You hope, with every fiber of your being, that he doesn’t regret those words of beauty that have come to live under your skin like planets in the universe that you and he have created. 

That would ruin you. That would break you—and not in the pleasant kind that you like. That universe would drop upon you and you don’t think you’re strong enough to pick up your own half of your creation, shake it off and learn to live again. 

You straddle him and he covers you with your duvet. Not your naked breasts, but your torso, inviting you into that island. You thought he did to prevent distraction from weakening his focus, but he doesn’t regard your body like that—doesn’t regard it as an instrument of lust. Something about that moves you, enough for you to take his hands, your thumbs in the middle of his palms, and spatter your soft kisses on them. On his fingers, his knuckles. And when you reach the back of his hand, you halt, boring your gaze into his, catching that comet flying past his eyes again and staying this time, staying in the glint that appears as his brown pools wet. 

“Your words mean a lot to me. I carry them in my heart. You know that poem?” 

Hobi shakes his head, flattening his lips, closing his eyes for a brief moment. 

You don’t mind. You’re delighted to enlighten him. 

“I carry your heart with me,” you recite, keeping the heel of his palm against your lips. “I carry it in my heart. I am never without it. Anywhere I go, you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling,” you finish the first stanza of the poem that has not left your bloodstream ever since you were a teenage girl. Sharing that with him brings out a sea of feelings you remember your past self invariably longed to swim in. Tenderness, closeness, passion. Having it now feels as though you’ve passed a milestone. Hobi’s halo flashes with a rosy pink hue and your softened heart constricts. “The things you said were my doing, Hobi.” 

He caresses your side, starting from your armpit, going down the side of your breast, your waist until he arrives at the fleshy part of your hip, which he grasps. His chin quivers as he opens his mouth to speak and a lump forms in your throat. 

“You’re a poem, pup,” he whispers, circling his thumb over your tummy. “You don’t mind that I said those things?” 

You kiss his hands again, upon the same places to make your affection last longer on his skin. Your clit awakens at the pet name and naturally, you scooch over until you’re sat on his soft manhood over the duvet and you begin to move your hips back and forth. Hobi hisses, but doesn’t stop you this time. Lets you do what you want in the safety you conjured around him. 

“Say them again.” 

You speed up your movement. 

Hobi moans. Pauses. Swallows. Thinks. “I’m yours.” 

You grind harder in reward, moaning with him, feeling him stiffen under your clit, feeling him comprehend that you love those declarations. 

“My cock is yours,” he breathes out, his other hand joining the other and gripping your hip, digging in his nails. Another half moons, another beauty, intensifying the pleasure. You lick your fingertips and pinch your nipples. Hobi shudders, visibly, underneath you. “If you keep this up, I’m gonna have to cancel my work meeting.” 

You laugh, meekly but seductively, prolonging your thrusts, slowing them down, coaxing pained groans out of him. A delight. “Who said I wanted you to go?” 

Hobi curses, switching places with you on a whim that surprises you, bends you over, arches your back by lifting your bum in the air. The duvet falls, sadly, off of the mattress—and your soul, for him, falls equivalently. 

He slaps the side of your thigh. One, twice, thrice. “Who’s pussy is this?” 

You long to see him, your soul begs for it. Whispers to you to grab your phone and you do, swiping your finger on the screen and angling it so your camera has a blissful view of him. Of him fixed, darkly, on your ass and your femininity in the middle. 

Curious to know what’s taking you so long to answer, his brows rise as he discovers what you’re doing and he bites his lip, pulls on your legs to straighten them and you plop down on the mattress with a loosened breath. He gets in the same position. Licks over the swell of your ass cheek. 

“Film it. Film yourself telling me who’s pussy this is,” Hoseok commands and in a millisecond, without a thought spared, you click on the red button, excitement tingling your nerves. 

“My pussy is yours, Hoseok.” 

His eyes flick to the camera, meeting your stare, and your breath hitches, the view so attractive as he mouths that skin, marking it. He sneaks a hand to your clit, lifting his body a little, and spanks the spot he bruised. You gasp, elated, humming in a high-pitched tone, causing him to smirk. 

“Ride my hand. Whose pussy is this, baby, hm?” 

You snap your hips, furrowing your brows at the faint pleasure, at the desperation that courses through your veins. 

“Yours, Hoseok, ah, fuck. I want you inside me, please.” 

And he takes you, right there on camera, from behind—immortalizing your inside joke as you and him mention it and laugh about it together, immortalizing the way he paints your wings that ivory color and the way he rubs it in, sinking it deep within its membrane. 

And when you’re so spent that you can’t keep your eyes open and Hobi is drifting his mouth over your breasts, he tells you to send it to him. And with one cracked open, you do. 

It’s later in the evening that you find out that it wasn’t Hobi you sent that video to and your blood freezes. 

Your phone rings and Jungkook’s picture fills the screen. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah, @fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist | READ part one

[wooziorgans]

Noan do you not feel anything for nerd!jihoon?!?!?? Do you not fantasize about him being a silent shy nerd until he have you in his room, on his bed, naked, screwing you, raw, filling you up with his load and still not pulling out, just staying in, connected and you wondering where's the nerdy boy.

Thee nerd in question btw (this guy in short hai is my so fqing favorite I can literally do ANYTHING for him 😭😭😭😭 please please please please jihoona)

shy nerd uji

oh lord. oh he’s such a hot loser i need him. god did i have thoughts abt this. also ur other ask is being combined w another ask for the ultimate sub uji story. yeah anyways.

shy nerd!jihoon who practically took you under his wing in your shared chemistry class freshman year. you were lab partners, and he seemed competent enough to help you out personally with the labs, though you asked him for his number after the first class because he was too shy.

jihoon, who only wears tight fitting clothes on lab days because his regular baggy shirts and sweatpants are a safety hazard. you can’t help but stare at his muscles before he puts on his lab coat. his face burns as he slips his goggles on over his glasses.

jihoon, who helps you out with all the calculations for the remainder of the semester, even after you get the hang of it. who panics when you spill sulphuric acid on yourself, even though it has a low molarity so it won’t burn you.

jihoon, who you end up becoming pretty good friends with, even though you only see him once a week in your lab section. he always answers your questions about chemistry, even if you have different professors.

he slowly opens up to you, and you find out in your last study session that he’s actually a music major. you beg him to show you some of his songs, and he agrees, red in the face. on the condition you do well on your chem final.

jihoon, who you managed to keep seeing and hanging out with, even if you no longer share a class together. three years later, at the start of your final year of university, you can mutually say that you’re each others best friends.

shy nerd!jihoon, who isn’t as shy as he used to be, but he gets red in the face whenever you tease him. he still has his walls up around you, certain ones that he doesn’t seem to have with the rest of your friend group.

you can’t deny your attraction to him. his glasses, which he always pushes up as he studies, contrast so starkly with his pale skin. his bulging muscles which radiate heat as autumn starts to roll in.

jihoon cut his hair at the start of the semester, and you thought you’d be more upset with the change, but you can’t argue with the fact that he looks hot as fuck with shorter hair. you’ve seen him grow into a young man over the last few years, and his haircut suits him.

jihoon, who also didn’t go home for the holidays, and so you both spend your week together, catching up on homework and studying. you also spend your break with a multi-day movie marathon in his apartment.

jihoon and his apartment, which you’ve practically been living in for the last few days. your overnight bag sits in the corner of his living room, dirty clothes folded nicely on top of it. your toothbrush sits next to his, and it has him thinking hard about your friendship.

he can’t deny the fact that he thinks you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. he can’t deny how domestic your whole week is going to be, can’t deny how much his chest flutters when you insist on cuddling while you watch movies. he can’t deny the obvious pull towards you, one he can only hope is mutual.

jihoon, who lets you throw your leg over his as you cuddle, his face burning at the outward affection. your breath comes out in small puffs, fist tightening in his shirt as you slowly start to fall asleep with your head on his chest.

jihoon, who wraps his arm around you, hand resting on your thigh. you crane your neck up softly to look at him; his glasses are slipping down his face as he tries to pay attention to the movie. he looks beautiful like this, and you decide to try and play off touching him as a mindless, half asleep action.

your fingers release his shirt, which had pulled up, exposing the base of his stomach to the cool air of his room. you carefully, oh so slowly, trail your fingers down to the skin. you push your hand back up, nails scratching gently against his abs.

jihoon grips your thigh softly, lips parting as his other hand grabs your hand to stop you. his cock twitches softly in his sweats, and you can feel it against the inside of your thigh. “y/n,” he pants, as though he had just run a mile in record time. you flatten your hand against his stomach, pinky brushing against the band of his sweats.

“want you.” you murmur, closing your eyes as you just feel his skin. jihoon gives your thigh another squeeze before his hand falls to your ass. you shift up on his chest, leaning up to kiss his neck softly.

in one quick moment, jihoon flips you over, off of him and onto your back. you squeak softly, all the air leaving your lungs as he straddles your thighs. before you get the chance to say anything, jihoon’s lips are on yours as he starts to kiss you stupid.

you start to pant into his mouth, completely in awe at how good he is at kissing. you had assumed he was a little bit more of a loser with very little experience, but judging by the way he’s kissing you, he clearly knows what he’s doing.

jihoon pushes your shirt up, hand holding your side as his thumb brushes over your nipple. it’s hardly a graze, but it has your back arching off the bed as he pulls away. he smirks at you, hands leaving your body as he pulls his shirt off in one motion. you gasp at the sight of just how ripped he is. jihoon shakes his head as he pushes his glasses up, a sadistic puff of a laugh escaping his lips.

“what, baby? you know i work out.” he whispers, and the pet name he uses has you reeling, back arching back off the bed.

“you’re so fucking hot, oh my god.” you gasp, hands pulling at your shirt until you finally get the damn thing off. jihoon just chuckles at how desperate and cute you look right now. he doesn’t wait for you to settle back on w your shirt is off. instead, he gets straight to work, pulling your own sweatpants down. his fingers catch your underwear on the way down, and he decides to just get everything over with at once.

the cool air hits your burning core as jihoon spreads your thighs apart. he settles on his knees as he leans down, pressing soft kisses at the base of your stomach. he trails down further and further, licking at biting at you skin, covering you in light marks that slowly start to darken. finally, his chin brushes against the hood of your clit, and your hands snap to his hair, head falling back as your eyes close.

jihoon laughs again, almost cruel, as he places a kiss to your clit. his tongue darts out, pushing its way in between your folds to taste your arousal. he moans against you, and the vibrations only add to the stimulation. his fingers slowly start to find their way to your core.

he drags them over your entrance, not yet pushing them in as he goes back to focusing on your clit. you look down at him, opening your eyes to find him watching you intently. jihoon pushes two of his fingers into your entrance, and your tight walls suck him in almost instantly.

jihoon locates your spot almost instantly, milking it as he curls his fingers. his lips are suctioned against your clit, and you can’t take it anymore. with the way he’s looking at you, glasses slightly fogged from the heat between your legs and his breath against you, you cum hard around his fingers.

jihoon lets you ride out your orgasm, and once your chest is rising and falling rapidly, you can feel him smirk against you as he pulls his fingers out of you. “good. i wanted to make you cum at least once before i fucked you.” he shifts on his knees, pulling away from your core as his hand finds the knot of his sweats.

he pulls the bow free, slipping them down to his knees before he kicks them off. jihoon’s hard cock slaps his stomach and you lose your breath once again. his cock is big, veiny and so hard. small beads of precum leak from his tip, and he wraps his pretty hand around the head of his cock, coating it in his arousal as he strokes himself languidly.

“you still want this?” he asks as he leans over you. your hands find the side of his face as you nod. “good. been thinking about this for so long, baby. you have no idea.” he breathes out as he lines himself up, tip slipping through your folds.

he pushes in, and slides home in one motion. your walls spasm around him at the stretch. it burns, based on the sheer size of his cock, but you’re so wet it’s hardly a real issue. jihoon gives you a few moments to breathe as he peppers your face with chaste kisses, before he pulls back out, only to slam back in.

the pace he sets is brutal, hard and fast, and you know you won’t last long like this. you guess this is payback for the years of teasing and sexual comments made towards him, just to see him blush and get shy. jihoon pushes his tongue into your mouth, chasing your moans with his mouth.

your nails scratch at his back, crescent indents left behind over the muscles of his shoulders. he hisses at the sting and grips the flesh of your thigh harshly as he jackhammers into you.

it’s so dirty, messy; the slick sounds of jihoon moving inside of you, the repetitive slap of skin on skin, completely filthy as he fucks you like his life depends on it. the way he pushes his glasses back up his face makes your eyes roll back.

jihoon was always so soft and sweet, a naturally kind and gentle person, so to say that you’re losing your mind right now as he fucks you into oblivion would be an understatement. you can’t think, can’t even really make coherent noises as he fucks you. he shifts your hips up, tip of his cock kissing your spot, and it’s over for you.

you cum, the sheer force of your orgasm knocks the sound from your throat. you feel like you’re about to black out; a hot, white wave of pleasure so intense that your senses numb for a moment as you tighten impossibly around jihoon.

you’re so tight and warm and wet, it only takes a few more thrusts for jihoon to spill his load inside of you. he bites his lip as he cums, head thrown back as his own orgasm washes over him.

jihoon collapses on top of you, cock still sheathed in your warm walls. his hands find your hair and waist. his touch is so soft and gentle, a stark contrast to how he was moments ago, that it pulls you back down to earth. you have had the mind to tell him to pull out, but the feeling of still being full, albeit incredibly sensitive, is so nice that you don’t say anything.

“fuck.” you pant, a soft laugh falling from your lips. jihoon rolls you over onto your sides, hand cradling your head to his chest.

“you okay?” he asks quietly.

“yeah. so good. i’m so good right now, you have no idea.” you laugh again, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone.

“i hope that wasn’t too much, baby.” you can feel him smile against your hair.

“it was perfect, hoonie. i just- shit, where’d the shy nerd go? what happened to you?” you ask breathlessly. jihoon laughs quietly, pulling your head back from his skin gently so he can kiss you.

this kiss is so soft and delicate, like he’s afraid of shattering the moment you’re having right now. “dead and gone, baby. no more of that, now that i know you want me just as bad.” he whispers against your lips.

“good. i like being close to you like this.” you smile softly, pecking him once more.

“let’s get you cleaned up. i went kind of rough on you.” jihoon smiles back, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw.

“oh, fuckin’ tell me about it.” you giggle, brushing the hair out of his face.

“karmic retribution, baby. you can’t tease me for three years and think that your actions won’t have consequences.” jihoon laughs as he pulls his softening cock out of you. he hisses softly as he watches his cum slip out of you.

“remind me to keep teasing you if it means you’ll fuck me like that again.” you clench, trying to keep jihoon’s load inside.

“i’d rather you just tell me next time.” he whispers lowly into your ear. you wonder briefly if this new development is for the better, with the way his tone has you throbbing again. jihoon slides off the bed, away from you and you whine at the loss of his warmth.

jihoon throws his head back in a hearty laugh as he leans back over you to pick you up and carry you to the bathroom.

shy nerd! jihoon, who is all but dead and gone as he runs you a warm bath to soothe your aching muscles. he kisses you sweetly as he sets you down on the counter, massages your thighs and scalp in the warm water.

[gatorbites-imagines]

hiiiii!

may i request a poly ghost face x male reader who has anger issues(but he's such a bottom its sickening) and like his anger issues make people think he's all tough and he's been to like psychiatric hospitals for seriously hurting people and its times to renew his medicine but the doctor is out or they don't have his medicine in stock, so for the next week he has to go without medication and he gets into multiple physical fights and by the end of the week he like breaks down and is like "i don't wanna be angry all the time" which leads to a sweet cuddle session nd praise from billy and stu as reader cries and soon falls asleep

thank you sm!

Billy Loomis x Male reader X Stu Macher

Headcanons

Reader is on the more muscular side in this.

You had a reputation around Woodsboro, as a no fucks, dangerous and angry meathead. It mainly stemmed from the fact that you got into a lot of fights when you were younger, and was sent away to a psychiatric hospital for a while to find the right dose and medicine to give you.

It didn’t help that you lifted weights, worked out, and did different martial arts to help settle the anger that always simmered inside your body. As puberty hit, you shot up like a beanstalk, and you packed on muscle like no one’s business.

Your parents supported you, since having an outlet helped a lot with your anger issues, as long as you took your medicine, which they always made sure was available.

Because of your reputation, no one dares to say anything when you, Billy and Stu start openly dating. People are mostly confused by someone as popular and attractive as Billy and Stu would wanna go out with someone as rough and off-putting, in their eyes, as you.

Your boyfriends love you very much though, and they don’t mind your tendency to resort to anger quicker than most. Billy probably finds it hot to be honest, and Stu always likes to lay on your bed and watch as you lift weights in one of you tank tops.

I can honestly see Billy pushing your buttons just enough to make a vein pop and for you to pin him down, just for him to smirk and wrap his legs around your waist. Hes a little shit, and likes the thrill, what can I say.

Stu has definitely made comments about how if you need an outlet, he doesn’t mind help you out, if you know what I mean ;) ;)

You always just roll your eyes and go for a run to cool off, or do some other hobby your therapist and psychologist recommended, like gardening, journaling or coloring.

Your week starts of shitty, when you run out of your meds. Your parents take you to your doctor to get a new dose, but they’re all out and don’t know what they’ll get their next shipment.

They promise to get in contact with you as soon as they have it, and you get sent on your way, arriving at school later in the day than normal.

The first day or two is fine, since your last dose is still in your system, but when that runs out you start getting agitated. You grind your teeth and crack your fingers, feeling fidgety and so annoyed and angry by everything.

Literally everything pisses you off, from the way people chew gum, to how loudly people close their lockers, or how people cut in front of you in line in the cafeteria.

Billy is the first to notice how tense and agitated you are, as you prowl around like a caged tiger, glaring at everyone and everything. Stu notices not long after when you just grumble and mutter when he tries to play flirt with you or wrap his arm around you.

You get into multiple fights that week, from someone calling Stu and Billy a slur because you three are openly in a relationship, to a guy who bumper checked you on the way to school.

Normally Billy and Stu would enjoy the show of strength and how hot you look, but they can both see how miserable it makes you feel, especially when you are sent home and suspended for an entire week.

When you return home, you stomp upstairs into your room and throw off your jacket and shirt and just get to work lifting weights until everything hurts, and even then, you don’t stop.

Normally lifting weights help at least take the edge off, but nothing is working, only frustrating you more and making you even more angry. It reaches the point where you just wanna cry from how angry you are.

You don’t even notice how you’ve been at it for hours until Billy and Stu arrive and see you hunched over with a dumbbell, arms shaking from how far you’ve pushed yourself.

You are just scowling though, barring your teeth as you push yourself harder and harder, eyes shiny from unshed tears and very dehydrated from working yourself so hard.

Billy goes off to get you something to drink, some clean clothes and a wet washcloth, as Stu goes about getting the weight out of your hand and making sure you are at least okay. When he asks if you are okay, it just all spills over.

You start sobbing and shaking with anger and misery, crying into Stus shoulder as Billy returns. He puts the things he brought aside, and they just hold you as you cry, choking out how you just don’t wanna be so angry anymore, how everything hurts and nothing helps.

Your two lovers just hold you through it, letting you get out as much as you need, before they sit you up and Billy wipes you down with the wet cloth, and Stu gets you to drink the entire water bottle Billy brought to get you hydrated.

Stu holds you again as Billy gets the bed ready, and they pull you under the sheets as they cuddle up on either side of you, keeping you between them as they hold you close.

Because sure, they find your anger hot, but they hate how much pain it causes you. Cue lots of sweet cuddles and kisses from both, but the kisses are mostly from Stu as Billy mumbles all kinds of praise and compliments into your ear from behind.

I could imagine them also massaging your arms because of how hard you strained them, and their combined love and attention makes the anger lessen. It doesn’t go away, it never does, but it’s enough to knock you out.

The hours of working out, a week full of stress, and dehydration quickly knocks you out, putting you to sleep between Billy and Stu as they just hold you.

They know they cant make your problems go away, even though they wish they could, but they will stay by your side the entire way, and will never let you struggle alone.

[dixons-sunshine]

Holding On To You | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Despite not being too keen on PDA, Daryl craved comfort too. He got that comfort by holding your hand in his. It wasn't always that simple, though. He had to work his way up to being comfortable with that. Luckily, you were a patient person.

Or, three different scenarios in where the archer shows progress in his comfort with you.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Pre-prison (on the road); pre-Alexandria; Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.

Warnings: Swearing, migraines, mentions of injuries.

Word count: 2.1k

A/n: @louifaith, the muse you are, feeding our Daryl obsessed minds with your beautifully crafted scenarios. I wasn't feeling well today (a migraine and I was pretty dizzy) and didn't get much writing done, but this idea deserved to be written. There's a bit of Eugene slander in this but it's because I don't really like S5 Eugene. He's way better in the other seasons imo. Anyways, I hope you like this!

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

The cruelty of life seemed endless. With the stability and safety of the farm being something of the past, having to scavenge for scraps and having to move from house to house every few days, and with the impending arrival of Lori's little baby, everyone's spirits were diminished. Everyone longed for the comfort the farm brought for those few weeks you had all been looking for Sophia, everyone wanted a decent meal to satiate their hunger and although Lori's unborn baby was a reminder that innocence still existed, it was also a cruel reminder that you all needed to find someplace to plant some roots, and fast—especially if you didn't want to attract the dead with the baby's loud crying.

You sighed softly as you quietly followed behind Daryl, yours and his boots making clear tracks in the deep snow. The archer, as observant as ever, noticed your shift in mood and turned his head, eyeing you carefully.

“Ya alrigh'?” he questioned, turning his attention back to the tracks in front of him. Your relationship was pretty new, only having been "officially" together since the two of you had shared a kiss back after the fall of the farm.

You nodded, although he couldn't see you. “I'm fine.”

Daryl hummed, unconvinced. “Yer not fine. I know ya better than tha'.”

Your lips twitched up into a smile, walking a little faster to walk next to him. Daryl slowed his pace slightly to allow you to walk next to him at a steady pace, eyeing you as you adjusted your compound bow over your shoulder—a gift he had gotten you when you had mentioned wanting to learn how to hunt.

“I'm fine, I promise. I'm just tired, that's all,” you replied reassuringly, walking almost shoulder to shoulder with your partner.

Daryl shot you a worried look, fully prepared to head back. “If yer tired, we can go back. This trail ain't leadin' us anywhere, anyway.”

“I don't mean tired in the literal sense,” you corrected. “I'm just tired of all this moving around. Not knowing what our next meals going to be, if we even eat at all, not knowing when our current camp's going to be overrun with walkers, not knowing when Lori's baby's going to be here... It's mentally exhausting. We all need a break.”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We could do with a couple' of days where we ain't gotta worry.”

Before you could respond, there was a snap of a twig ahead of the two of you. Instinctively, you and Daryl raised your respective weapons in the direction of the noise, expecting to find a walker staggering towards you. However, instead of coming face to face with danger, you saw a small deer walking over to something in the distance.

Daryl raised his crossbow, aiming to take the shot. However, your hand on his arm halted his intentions. He shot you a questioning look, but you only hushed him and beckoned for him to follow you. The two of you slowly crept closer, the scene before you becoming clearer. The small deer made its way to what was presumably its mother, nuzzling against her legs.

You smiled softly at the sight. Despite the fall of the world, beauty still remained. Unbeknownst to you, Daryl was thinking the exact same thing at that moment, but he wasn't looking at the deer. He was gazing at you, taking in your radiant smile, the sparkle in your eyes, just everything about you. You truly were beautiful to the archer.

Hesitantly, Daryl brushed his hand against yours. Your smile widened but you made no move to grab his hand, not wanting to scare him off. You moved at his pace, and whether he held your hand at that moment was his decision.

In the end, the only thing he did was link his pinky with yours, and it was a perfect moment for you. In your mind, that was really good progress for a man who wasn't familiar with giving or receiving comfort. You'd wait as long as you needed to for Daryl to be comfortable around you. You'd never push him, never.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

The road seemed endless. You listened to the incessant yapping from one of your newest companions in your group of ragtag survivors, Eugene Porter, and had to resist the urge to tell him to shut up. Despite the euphoria and relief that came with reuniting with your group and having new members that could help you all, you were tired. Not just physically, but mentally, too. It was so much worse this time around than when you were initially on the road two years back. You were sporting a bruised cheek with deep cuts and scrapes littering the rest of your body, and you had a raging migraine.

And Eugene's droning wasn't helping matters at all.

As if sensing your deteriorating resolve at not biting the poor man's head of, Rick finally called for a break. “We rest here for now. We'll get moving again in an hour. Everything you want to do, do it now. Once we move again, we're not stopping until nightfall.”

Everyone soon dispersed, some heading to a nearby creek to refill the water supply, some starting a small fire to heat up some food and some even laying down on the hard ground to get some much needed sleep. You walked over to a tree and slid down against it, resting your head on your knees, willing the migraine away.

You soon heard a rustling next to you, before feeling a body sitting down next to you. You didn't even have to look up to know it was Daryl—the archer's presence was something you had grown used to and you could identify him anywhere.

“Hey,” he greeted you quietly, loosely hugging his knees. “Ya alrigh'?”

You hummed, lifting your head to look at him. “I'm fine,” you replied. “I just have a migraine.”

Daryl nodded, his face showing sympathy for you. “M'sorry we dun' have anythin' fer yer migraine. I know how bad they can get.”

You smiled and shook your head, placing your hand on the ground beside you, right between you and Daryl. “It's okay. It'll go away eventually. It's not that bad, as long as Eugene's quiet.”

Daryl chuckled, eyeing the aforementioned man who was sitting near the campfire. “Yeah, he's quite annoying, ain't he?”

“No, he's alright. He just needs to learn to be quiet from time to time.”

Daryl hummed and quieted down, simply basking in the early afternoon heat under the shade of the tree while the two of you observed the survivors going about their chores. However, Rick soon called for everyone to regroup, and you and Daryl got up to follow behind him.

You and Daryl walked at the back, giving you some semblance of privacy, and some semblance of relief from Eugene's rambling as he was at the front with Abraham and Rosita. Slowly and hesitantly, Daryl moved closer to you and brushed his hand against yours, before slowly interlacing his fingers through yours.

You smiled up at him, and he returned the smile with a small one of his own. It may not have been the first time that you've held hands with the archer, but it was the first time that you've done so with people around. Although Daryl slightly manoeuvred the two of you in a way that your locked hands wouldn't draw attention if people weren't directly looking at you, it was still a big deal for you. He was starting to show you off publicly. Although people back at the prison knew you as "the hunter's girl" because of an incident where a guy flirted with you and Daryl put him in his place, PDA wasn't something they ever saw from the man. He preferred to keep that part of your lives private—so this simple gesture was a big deal.

You squeezed his hand, a gesture you and Daryl had come up with to quietly tell the other "I love you". Daryl smiled softly and squeezed your hand back.

You truly loved this man, and he had shown countless times that he loved you, too.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“You guys should come over again. This was nice,” Eric told you with a smile, him and Aaron walking out onto the porch with you and Daryl.

You smiled at him and nodded. “We will, especially if you're going to be serving that spaghetti you made again. It was delicious. Seriously, thank you. It's the best meal we've had in a while.”

“No thanks necessary,” Aaron replied, waving you off. “It was our pleasure.”

Daryl nodded, moving to shake Aaron's extended hand. “Thanks. This was a hell of a lot better than tha' party at Deanna's woulda been.”

Aaron nodded and withdrew his hand again, allowing Eric to take his place before moving over to give you a hug. You returned it before giving Eric a hug too, and then pulled back.

“We should get going. Once again, thanks for tonight.”

“Once again, it's our pleasure,” Eric laughed. “Goodnight, guys. We'll see you around.”

“Goodnight,” you greeted them.

“Nigh',” Daryl responded, turning to you and subconsciously extending his hand to you.

You smiled at him but didn't say anything, not wanting him to change his mind about it. You slipped your hand into his and walked with him down the porch steps and into the relatively quiet streets of Alexandria, music from Deanna's party playing very faintly in the background.

You and Daryl didn't instantly go home. You simply walked through the streets, familiarising yourselves with the community. Daryl never let go of your hand; he had even brought your hand up to his lips once to kiss your knuckles, and your heart swelled with love for the man.

The two of you had run into a couple of the people in the community who were returning to their homes after the party, and you had suspected that Daryl would pull his hand from yours, but he never did. His grip on your hand seemed to tighten slightly during your interactions with those people, seeking your comfort around people he didn't know. It made you feel special, important. It made you happy to know that the man you met back at the quarry trusted you enough to bring him comfort.

Later that night, when the two of you returned to the empty house and retreated into the sanctuary of your shared basement, snuggled up together under the covers was when you finally addressed what he had done. Daryl was laying with his head on your chest, absentmindedly tracing shapes and figures onto your hand.

“You held my hand today,” you told him, softly threading your fingers through his freshly washed, brown locks, the shower having been courtesy of your skillful convincing.

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed absentmindedly, nuzzling his face deeper into your chest.

“In front of people,” you said, eyeing his reaction carefully.

Daryl simply glanced up at you, his face not revealing anything. “Ya want me to stop doin' tha'?”

You shook your head. “No, I like it. It's just a little out of the ordinary for you, and it took me by surprise.”

Daryl was quiet for a few moments. “I always wanna hold yer hand when we're walkin' together. I jus' never had the courage to. Dun' want people to overreact when they see it. But, I dunno... I love ya and I'll be damned if I dun' hold my girl's hand 'cause of wha' people think.”

You giggled and kissed the top of Daryl's head. “So I can expect an increase in handholding?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah.”

You smiled at him. “Good. That's exactly what I wanted to hear. I love you, Dar.”

Daryl placed a kiss to your chest, before laying his head back down. “Love ya more, sunshine.”