#brainrot in full effect!

[useragarfield]

What would I give, to live where you are? What would I pay, to stay here beside you? What would I do, to see you, smiling at me?

[ghouly-boiiiii]

I refuse to apologize for this. YOU CAN'T MAKE ME.

[lexyscross]

Michael is: "I know my father doesn't love me." Elizabeth is: "I know my Daddy loves me!" Vanessa is: "Does my dad even love me?"

CC/Evan, I'm not sure, since we've gotten so little idea of their relationship.

[strawglicks]

flint fascinates me bc he comes off as rlly polite and kind

but also. not really. at all

they apologize often and it seems like they try to be nice to others, but then u look deeper and take into account different details

one of the biggest things abt flint that gets overlooked is that he likes drama .

i dont think liking drama itself is bad, why else do we have reality tv shows yk. but i think they actively indulge in it and one of the biggest things that points to this for me is how they treat the satellite investors

he seems to talk bad about them behind their backs, then can't handle the comeuppance of cosmo yelling at him.

this is further implied with cosmo saying they're "goin' around spreadin' lies", meaning flint does actively talk shit on what might be a regular basis. and flint saying "oh, no, I shouldn't have said that" implies FURTHER that they KNOW they're gonna get yelled at for it but continue to do it anyway with the hope cosmo wont find out. like hes not sorry for doing it, only sorry for getting caught.

cosmo gets HEAVILY neglected both in the community as a whole and whenever flint is brought up even though they have a really interesting and honestly hilarious dynamic (but thats for another post..)

whenever cosmo DOES get brought up in the context of he and flints relationship, people defend flint and blame cosmo for being "mean" to him. but tbh, i think cosmo has a fair point in this particular text. Flint can talk all he wants, but at the end of the day can't handle the consequences of it and lacks the confidence to put his foot down. He's a follower, not a leader (unlike cosmo, who flint looks up to canonically. WHICH NO ONE TALKS ABOUT!!!!!!!!!!!)

flint also seems to have an interesting habit of apologizing even though he actively and intentionally attacks the toons right after

which i think is interesting. i think it's just a habit of his to say sorry when he knows he's doing/has done something wrong (especially bc he doesnt like facing the consequences), even if hes not actually sorry. Considering this is the same person who claims they like setting toons on fire, i dont think any of these apologies are sincere:

speaking of not being able to handle the consequences, when flint does get defeated by toons, there's a line that sticks out.

Specifically the "i'll be back" feels vengeful. Like he takes the defeat personally, and doesn't want to give up because it makes him feel weak and he wants to come out on top.

something else i find interesting and almost jarring in flint's dialogue is some of their Power Trip dialogue:

this dude is incredibly power hungry. he craves confidence and the ability to be a leader, given how he looks up to cosmo and is drawn to graham, who also appears confident.

speaking of graham, i think it's important to note that earlier, when flint was talking shit abt the satellite investors, he was saying that specifically to graham, who encourages flint not to "let people walk all over him".

graham encourages flint to feel more confident, which is not inherently a bad thing. confidence is great! and its something flint deserves. but i think there's an issue with how they choose to express this "confidence" on the rare occasions they do.

shown throughout this post, flint's way of trying to be confident is being power hungry, talking shit, and fighting toons . i think it's pretty clear that flint has been walked all over in the past and present, and it's caused them to become shy and a bit of a doormat. which he clearly doesn't like (more evidence of this is the fact that he explicitly dislikes belittling.)

and on the rare occasions when they're "allowed" to be confident, they proceed to belittle OTHERS, like toons. in a lot of their dialogue, they come off as condescending towards the toons, even if it's pretty awkward.

i think Flint deserves to feel confident, but the way they go about it is unhealthy. They've clearly been treated like a doormat and is fed up with it, and it seems like they lash out as a result. I think he has a good and genuine heart, but he almost comes off as bitter due to being walked all over constantly. its rlly interesting to dive into flint's flaws and the way they act due to their desperation for confidence, something they really lack.

[infinite-orangepeel]

“get too close to your muse & you, the artist, will lose all ability to decipher one shade from the next on your palette. keep your distance…”

fall quarter begins at the curly roots of eddie munson’s ineffable head, runs its’ labyrinthian course through passageways of blue veins & black ink, & ends at a set of hairy crimson painted toes.

steve finds himself squandering every waking moment of his lifeblood & attention somewhere, egregiously, in the middle.

“say you’re drawing a bed of flowers,” his professor lectured a few weeks back, “what happens if you put your nose in the middle of those flowers & try to recreate the details on your canvas? you come up with color and shape, sure, but it’s blurry—isn’t it? it’s a big blobby blur of nothing. that’s not very good life drawing, i’m afraid.”

flash forward to the present—

the bed is firm but comfortable. reminding you of its’ presence.

it doesn’t encourage daydreaming &, yet, steve is ignoring the better advice of his mentor & pressing his curious nose directly into the bud of an all too striking flower.

he knows the intimate contact could kill the rose, is aware of the thorns lining the stem, but he can’t stay away.

he’s struck by fear and temptation and self-loathing and a beauty that stings like a slap across the face.

eddie’s his roommate, his friend, his muse for the most important project of steve’s career as an art student.

& getting too close is lethal, so he creates a sort of optical illusion.

designs an environment in which he can pretend they are star-crossed lovers in a broken world that won’t let them be together. in which touch is a small death each and every time.

steve flits to eddie like a dragonfly to water—

never touching.

never spending too much time in his orbit before making up an excuse to leave & jerk off to the smell of old cigarettes in the bathroom.

everything he really wants to say sits in the back of his throat like a painful, malignant lump & gets spat out onto his sketchbook in a tragically romantic exorcism.

doing the dishes next to him is enough to drive him insane.

drawing him, butt-naked, is another story.

“is it supposed to be so….erotic?”

eddie arches an eyebrow as steve traces the outline of his cock into his sketchbook.

“it’s not that erotic,” steve says, blushing into his charcoals, “besides no one will know it’s you. it’s art.”

art is supposed to be weird & naked. now, hold still, & let me draw you.”

it’s definitely erotic.

there are roses—de-thorned, for safety—shrouding eddie’s dick & leaving a trail of pink petals across his pale thighs.

eddie’s hand is draped over his head; exuding a certain brattiness, lust, boredom—

as if he’s lying there because he wants someone, like steve, to stumble upon him & use his body the way it so clearly needs to be.

his lips are parted on the precipice of whispering some filthy secret into steve’s ear while milking him like a simple farm girl with nothing better to do.

fuck.

he can’t be this close to eddie without losing his mind.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

it’s just a body. just limbs and a huge cock and—

eddie’s quiet for a little while which is rare for him, before he pipes up again.

“what if we painted the flowers together?”

steve wipes the sweat from his brow, drops his pencil, and looks up at eddie across the mattress. working overtime to avoid staring at the erection sticking out amongst the bouquet of roses.

“the piece isn’t supposed to be very colorful. i’m going for muted tones. that’s why i picked the pale pinks and whites.”

eddie giggles a little and, it’s so cute, steve has to pinch his own thigh through his shorts just to maintain composure.

“i don’t think you’re understanding—the colors wouldn’t change much. except for some more white, if you catch my drift,” eddie pumps his hand over his cock several times and mimes cumming stop the petals, “might look cool. might get you extra points with that asshole professor of yours. you’ve said he likes ‘shock value.’”

“i—i guess you’re right. that’s a pretty….different and unique….um….idea. yeah.”

it’s like this that steve strips naked and clambers as close to eddie as he can possibly get without laying a finger on him. adhering to the rules—keeping a particular distance between artist & muse.

they lay side by side. sunlight streaming in through the blinds & bathing eddie’s spindly fingers in gold as he touches himself.

“harrington, don’t act like you haven’t been dreaming about this since day one,” eddie snarks, “i’ve seen the way you look at me, sweetheart. your eyes are gonna burn holes in my ass if you’re not careful. touch that pretty cock of yours, lemme see you.”

before steve can do anything about it or change his mind, he’s got a fist wrapped around his own cock and the other hand pinching his nipples. left and right, back and forth, dragging his nails through the hair sprouting around them.

“didn’t think you thought about me like that,” steve whines, watching as eddie edges himself methodically—

moving faster, slower, squeezing at the base, thumbing over the slit, cupping his balls, slapping the insides of his own thighs until they match the pink petals.

“i like a little pain,” he comments when he catches steve’s wide eyes, “and i’ve always was hallucinating the first time i walked into this room and saw you on the bed—thought i was going into the light and seeing an angel.”

“you’re so full of it.”

“i’d like to be full of you,” eddie breathes against steve’s neck, not allowing his lips to pass the barrier, “but i don’t know if you can handle me, big boy. you’re blushing like a nervous little schoolgirl.”

“am not—”

“are too, &, you’re about to cum just listening to my voice. it’s so crystal clear. look at you—fucking yourself so stupid.”

eddie looks so beautiful.

laying there like a forsaken god locked out of heaven.

steve’s been so good about keeping his hands to himself, about keeping his nose out of the flowers, but desire and temptation are stronger than any amount of remaining willpower he has.

he grabs eddie’s shoulder with his freehand & kisses him until they’re both seeing stars.

celestial explosions of pleasure & truth & this thing that’s been growing violently between them since the moment they first met.

“i’m cumming. i’m gonna—fuck steve, it’s gonna be on the flowers—i hope that’s okay—”

they cum in tandem over petals of pink and white and thornless stems.

steve gets an A+.

taglist (message me to be added or removed at any time <3): @estrellami-1 @disastardly @ilovecupcakesandtea @the-redthread @asbealthgn @bestofbucky @vampireinthesun @carlyv @shrimply-a-menace @lordrrascal @malachitedevil @anxiouseds @gay-little-bitch @jhrc666 @pinkdaisies1998 @perseus-notjackson @eiddets @corroded-coffin-groupie @three-possums-playing-human @stevesbipanic @plutoshelm @arkenstoned @indiearr @they-reap-what-we-sow @gleek4twd @bunnyweasley23 @livingoutload @a-little-unsteddie @novelnovella @neverlandwaitingforme @swiss-cheeze

[justanothervaultie]

Sneek peak WIP. Will be done once I figure out how to draw pretty teeth 🫣😬

[p1nqu3]

fem shanks 😁😁😁😁😁😁 <- that’s me cheesing hard

geeking over my own drawing. but that means i did. ok. click see more to see diff backgrounds

one piece brain rot is in full swing #lol

[squiddity3]

boyfrens

[ectogeo-rebubbles]

It turns out that anyone can make me feel immense joy at any time simply by writing and posting fics where Sisko and Garak lick blood out of each other’s mouths (or some equivalently horny/violent act).

[somethin-stupid-67]

rewatching chicanery, so this really is the tv episode of all time huh?

[emailsquid]

hm. will the traveller gain abyssal or celestial power in chapter 7. also why no chapter for mondstadt unless the final chapter is also mondstadt. which would be weird if khaenri'ah is near sumeru whichits pretty heavuily implied to be. idk

[semisomni]

zero my beloved wife zero. i WILL see you again and that is a THREAT

[ervotica]

fix your head

pairing; perv!stepbro!rafe cameron x fem!stepsister!reader

warnings; stepcest, smut 18+ only, fingering, p in v sex, somnophilia, free use kink

a/n; just been having brainrot abt stepbro!rafe so here’s a lil drabble/thot abt him! (yes i am insane)

A rough palm presses to the small of your back as the covers lift, a chill twining around your suddenly exposed skin that has goosebumps raising even in slumber. You whine, brows scrunching as lax fingers loop around his wrist and you twist further into the sheets. Your eyes open and desperately try to acclimatise to the darkness of your bedroom, but all you can decipher is a looming silhouette that begins to crawl on top of your slack body.

"Shh, shh," Rafe soothes. His breath is hot against your prickling face. "'S just me. Go back to sleep. Just g'na fix your head a little."

"Mm, okay." You settle once you realise it's only your stepbrother, eyes fluttering closed once more. His touch immediately has your pert nipples hardening, the soft sheets beneath you enough stimulation to make you squirm even in your half-asleep state.

Bruising fingers curl around your hips, lifting them until your back arches and your face smushes into the pillows beneath you; he makes light work of your panties, pushing them to the side as his big palms knead the fatty flesh of your bum.

A finger sinks into your weeping hole and you gasp, pushing back into the touch as he curls it just right to rub over your g-spot. Your gummy walls contract at the newfound pleasure and an arm flies back in seek of purchase against Rafe's wrist.

"I know, I know," he coos, slipping in another digit and picking up the pace until the delicious friction has you stifling moans into the sheets. "Keep quiet for me, kid. Wouldn't want your mom finding us, would we?"

The feeling of fullness is gone as quickly as it appeared and you're still for a few moments, features crumpling in vexation.

"Don't get bratty on me now, you little shit," he chuckles, watching as your face falls once more when he lines his mushroom head up with your drooling entrance. You garble and gasp as your cunt parts and flares around him, fluttering walls hugging him and moulding to the shape of his curved cock.

Fingers splay against the base of your neck, effectively silencing you as he starts to rock his hips; fingernails dig into the delicate flesh there and you whimper, tears tickling at your waterline as he presses you further into the pillow to keep you quiet.

"Got this pussy trained f'me, haven't I, kid? Attagirl, nice and quiet for me."

He twines an open palm into the length of your hair and tugs to reveal your blissed visage, watching with rapture as your expression changes the more he toys with you.

You squeak as he reaches down to pinch and roll your swollen clit between two fingertips, teeth baring into a growl when he clasps a merciless hand over your whining mouth.

"I told you to be fuckin' quiet, slut. Too much of a whore to take it nicely, hm? Too ungrateful?"

You shake your head vehemently, tears pooling at the base of his fingers as his thrusts pick up speed, head of his cock kissing every spot inside of you until you can't think of anything but how good he's making you feel.

He wrenches his hand free and you sag like dead weight, a punched breath of air expelling from your lungs with every cruel rut of his hips.

"There's my girl," he croons with a wicked smile, satisfied now you're fucked too dumb to do anything but drool onto the pillows beneath you. "You just, relax, kid. I'll be finished with you soon.”

[kimberbohwrites]

Got to beta one of my absolutely fave fic writers work so trust me when I say that I HEAVILY recommend this.

QUOTH THE RAVEN - CHAPTER 4

Rolan/Tav | NSFW | 5,210 words

Read on AO3

Rolan's POV

thank you for 500 followers, sorry I kept y'all waiting <3

He rouses slowly to the sound of muffled laughter.

Tav’s scent and warmth all around him fills his senses. She smells like leather and sweat, but there's a sweetness that lays beneath it that is purely and wholly her. He finds he enjoys it immeasurably. Almost as much as he enjoys the feeling of having her wrapped up in his arms. Her body shakes lightly. He feels the warmth of her breath and the movement of her lips against his arm, where she tries to suffocate the sounds of her giggles.

Making his voice work so soon after waking is a challenge - Rolan’s never been a morning person - but he manages to choke out words.

“What are you chuckling about?”

She stills slightly in his arms. Perhaps it’s at the sudden realisation that he’s awake, or perhaps it’s how close his lips are to her skin.

“Nothing, really.”

It’s not a very well thought out lie, truthfully, though it doesn't really matter. He just tightens his grip and pulls her closer to him, letting his nose graze the cartilage of her ear.

“Very convincing,” he struggles to keep the rasp out of his words, and she shudders minutely against him, “however for some reason I don't seem to believe you.”

Her voice is gentle, and it has a sweet Baldurian lilt to it that he can’t help but appreciate. Perhaps if it were anyone else, he’d think they sound common, but it suits her so painfully well that he finds he likes it. “I was just thinking about how insane my life has become these last few months… And about how warm you are.”

The laugh that spills from him takes him slightly by surprise, but it's not unpleasant. He finds himself laughing with her often. It’s so incredibly foreign to him, feeling this comfortable with someone, but he can't help the feeling that spreads through his gut when he’s around her.

“I told you before, tieflings run hot.” He’d shrug if he wasn't worried about jostling her. “It’s a blessing and a curse, though admittedly more of a blessing when one finds themselves in a region shrouded by supernatural chill.”

Tav hums her assent.

The silence that follows is sobering. It dawns on him, all at once, that they definitely didn't fall asleep spooning. He wonders who made the move, in the clutches of slumber, to crawl towards the other. He’s quite certain it was probably him.

He feels bashful all of a sudden. Perhaps she’s waiting for him to move away, so that she can be free of his grasp. He has the urge to run, as he so often does when he feels vulnerable, but the idea of not having her in his arms is rather unbearable.

“Are you… Is this…” He’s not quite sure what he’s trying to say. Do you like this? Am I making you uncomfortable? Can I keep holding you? He swallows the questions down before they can spill from him. “... Okay?”

It's not the most elegant thing he could've said, and there's a moment of self-consciousness that runs through him as Tav snorts at him. But then she’s speaking, and suddenly everything is well again. She has that effect.

“Is it okay that I’m wrapped up warm in the arms of a dashing gentleman? I suppose I can deal with it.”

Does she have to be so enthralling? Does she have to be so incredibly lovely in every sense of the word that the very insinuation that she finds him easy on the eyes has his face flooding with heat and his heart hammering in his chest? It’s pathetic, to be honest, but instead of running away like his bones scream for him to, he buries his nose in her soft skin and breathes in a lungful of her. He finds he can't keep the soft smile off his lips.

“Gods, is this what I get for trying to be polite?”

She laughs, and hells if it isn't a beautiful sound. Like the clouds parting after a monsoon. She shifts slightly and locks her fingers with his, and his heart rate ratchets at the simple touch.

Her tone is light. Comforting. “I’m comfortable as long as you are.”

He can't tell her that he's more comfortable than he's ever been in his life, in more ways than one. That he’s never felt so at ease as he does when they tease one another or when her hand grips his. He can’t tell her that if someone came in now, telling him the sky was caving in and the end was nigh, he’d scorn them for interrupting and tell them to leave the pair in peace.

“I suppose I’m amenable to the situation.”

She sees right through him. Squeezes his hand. His heart squeezes with it.

It’s quiet for a moment, before her gentle voice breaks the silence.

“Thank you.”

He scrunches his face in confusion. What could she ever have to thank him for? After everything she’s done for him?

“For what?”

“For yesterday.” She’s so quiet. “For looking after me.”

“Oh, right.” He’d almost forgotten, in the haze of waking up wrapped around her, the situation that had led them here. The ghastly wound on her torso that she sustained when she saved his brother’s life, and by extension his own.

Truly, he’d been terrified when he saw it. When he told her his healing magic was rudimentary, he wasn't exaggerating. Just enough to heal cuts and scrapes sustained by Cal and Lia when they were young and eager to prove themselves. He’d felt bile rise in his throat, seeing up close the way her flesh had split. The wound itself was a clean cut, courtesy of the no doubt recently sharpened blade that left it, but it was deep. He couldn't honestly believe she’d still been standing, let alone that she willingly sustained such an injury in pursuit of his siblings safety. It made his throat feel tight. What could've happened to Cal, what could've happened to Tav.

He's not sure when he became so concerned with her safety.

He shrugs, trying to chase the thoughts from his mind. “It’s about time I did something for you, isn't it? Other than giving you a migraine, that is.”

The laugh that sputters out of her chases every ‘what if’ away.

“Well, either way, thank you. I feel amazing. You've healed things I didn't even know were hurting.”

He can't help the smirk that rises to his lips. “What can I say? I’m nothing if not thorough.” How can he help himself? He’s just a man. A very, very weak one.

“Can I turn over?”

And just like that, his bravado is gone. He’s loosening his grip to let her move, bracing himself to see her face for the first time since waking up curled around her.

The sight punches the breath from his chest.

Because really, truly, she's one of the most beautiful people he’s ever laid his eyes on. She's all soft skin and bright eyes and lightly flushed cheeks, and she’s absolutely gorgeous. Her bottom lip is plump and pink, her top lip curving with a graceful cupid's bow. Her hair, a vibrant red, falls in soft waves around her. It frames her face and her glistening green eyes, parts slightly around the gentle point of her ears.

But it's not even just the fact that she's absolutely breathtaking to look at that has his eyes darting over her, trying to memorise the minutia of her expression, it's knowing exactly what lies beneath. Kindness and selflessness and an absolute burning need to do what's right, no matter the personal cost.

When he had met her, he thought her prideful and conceited, uncaring of the safety of others if it aided her personal goals. He thought that's why she’d insisted they stay at the Grove, to pad out the numbers so that her body wasn't one that fell.

Instead she came back, bone weary and covered in viscera, with the fight already over and not a single life lost.

She's so inherently good, and he can't help but wonder how he ended up here. Next to her, as broken and imperfect as he is, sharing her air and holding her body. He feels like he’s balancing on the edge of a cliff, trying not to plummet, as though a slight hair moving out of place will send him spiralling through the air and put his whole world off kilter.

And yet he still breaks the silence that’s fallen over them.

“You're feeling better, then?”

She nods, “much, thank you. I appreciate it.”

He doesn't mean to roll his eyes, but he does. “I meant it, Tav, it was the least I could do. I've been rotten to you, and you saved us.”

There's a beat of a pause. “You don't owe me anything, you know.”

And Hells, how incredibly wrong she is. How absolutely astoundingly incorrect.

“On the contrary, I owe you absolutely everything.”

She doesn't comment, so he raises his hand to her cheek. It stands out so starkly against her pale skin. She is soft and elegant where he is rough and flawed. His red skin looks like a blemish on her beautiful face, but he can't bear to not hold her like this. Can't bear for her to feel for a moment that she isn't precious. He stares straight into her eyes, trying and failing to keep the emotion from his voice.

“You saved me, then my family. Gods, you-” he chokes back the words he almost says. You could've died. It doesn't bear thinking about. “I owe you more than I could ever possibly repay you in one lifetime.”

Tav’s eyes stay locked with his. “You don't have to repay me. I like helping the people I care about.”

He knows she doesn't mean it like that. It's completely innocent. A gentle comment on the unlikely friendship that has formed between them after everything that has happened. And yet it makes his heartbeat stutter and his hands clam up. He doesn't deserve her, he reminds himself, but the questions wrenches from him anyway.

“You care about me?”

It's not what she meant. It’s cruel to insinuate otherwise. Cruel to put her in a position where she can hear the hopeful tone in his voice before she cuts him down. But she just flushes crimson.

“Obviously.”

And fuck, what can he even say to that? What can he possibly give her in return for the feeling of hope that radiates through his veins and spreads to every one of his extremities.

When he speaks, it's around a smile he didn't realise he was wearing. “Well, now I owe you even more than before, because I’m quite sure I’m the happiest man this side of the realms.”

She sputters out a laugh and his smile spreads wider. “Well, if you’re dead set on showing me your gratitude, I’m sure we could come to an arrangement.” Her eyebrows waggle like two gleeful slugs and he sputters out a comment about how incredibly incorrigible she is, but it blurs into the background because he's kissing her.

He’s kissing her, and it feels like coming home. It feels like the first salve of the hearth as you rush to escape the cold, biting and soothing against frostbitten skin all at once. It feels like the first thaw as winter ceases, the sun peeking through the clouds and reflecting off the snow as it melts. His heart jackhammers in his chest, and then she's sucking on his bottom lip and wrenching noises from him he didn't even know he could make, and wow- the hearth is lit and the whole house is moments away from catching ablaze.

Rolan moves his hand to her hip, because frankly he’s absolutely desperate for her, and he has been since she first kissed him. She's rolling her hips and sighing into his kiss and he feels like he’s just hanging on for the ride. He’d be embarrassed by how loud he is, but it seems to spur Tav on, and isn't just the thought of that enough to have his cock straining against his breeches.

He’s pulled out of his reverie when he feels her fingers tracing along his chest, over the cartilaginous ridges that line his sternum.

Even pulling back to look at her in all of her beauty doesn't ease the ache that thrums through him.

Because this is where she realises just how different they are, how much better she deserves. How a monster like him isn't worthy of warming her bed, let alone her heart.

He can't hide the bitterness from his voice, “another joy of my infernal heritage.” He plasters on a smile that even he knows is half hearted, and probably looks as false as it feels.

Her hand stills.

Her eyes scan his, and he braces for the rejection.

“You're beautiful, Rolan.”

And he laughs, he actually laughs, because who does she think she's fooling? Certainly not him. People are attracted to tieflings in the same way they're attracted to skydiving. They like the danger, the thrill, the feeling of doing something they shouldn't be. Rolan’s body is nothing but a novelty that he knows is quick to wear off, so he selfishly leans in for another kiss before it does.

She stops him.

“I mean it. You're beautiful.”

His brow furrows as he scans her face, searching. He's not entirely sure what she gains by lying to him about this. He's already hard against her, desperate and aching for whatever she deems him worthy of. He can’t quite ascertain why she would say these things, unless she truly believes them, and that certainly can't be the case.

And then she's on top of him.

He doesn't have time to protest, barely has time to suck in a surprised breath before her thighs are straddling him and she's leaning forward. His hands fly out of their own accord to grip her hips.

Her lips land on his forehead, and his eyes drift closed. “You’re beautiful.” The words rattle around in his skull, devoid of anything other than her words echoing through it. “You were beautiful when I met you in the Grove-” her lips trail softly to his temple, and he barely holds back a pathetic sounding whine, “you were beautiful when I found you in those shadows-”. Her hair falls around the pair of them, and it traps the smell of her soap and skin in the cocoon of safety she's created.

It’s just them.

“-and you're especially beautiful now.”

Then her lips are ravaging his own, and he’s trying not to cry as he pulls her as close as he physically can, merging her body to his like they’re two halves of one whole, like a final return to normalcy after a lifetime of living through the extraordinary. Their tongues dance like the push and pull of the tide, and maybe someday he’ll stop writing poetry when she kisses him, but right now he can't fathom it.

When she pulls away he can hardly breathe, he's gasping and gulping for air as if he’s just come to the surface after drowning, which he has. There are tears pricking at his eyes that he prays she can't see.

“Gods, Tav, you-” you can't mean it, “you're so-” you're so fucking perfect, “how do you always-” how do you always know just what to say? How do you see right into my soul and read what's written there like it was placed there just for you?

“Hells.”

He buries his face in her neck, because looking at her right now is too much, she's too much.

“I haven't-” I haven't earned this, “I don't deserve it. I don't deserve to have you like this. I want you so desperately it hurts but-” but you deserve so much more than I can give you. “Gods, you're so-” resplendent. “You're perfect and I’m just-”

Her core grinds down on his and all thoughts leave his mind in a whirlwind of lust and longing. His head slams back against the pillows, almost catching his horns on the headboards, but he's so lost in her he barely even notices.

“Well I’m here. And I want you.” She angles her hips downwards and drags her cunt along his length, and even through two layers of clothes it has his brain rebooting and air punching out of his lungs. “So what are you going to do about it?”

He's never sobered quicker.

His eyes fly open (he didn't even realise he’d closed them) and he's greeted with the sight of her above him, radiant and warm and absolutely everything.

And really, he never stood a fucking chance.

She's under him in an instant, gasping in surprise at the sudden switch in positions and his mood. But fuck, she wants him do something about it? She wants him?

He leans in, slowly, slowly, until they're almost kissing. He hisses the words through his teeth.

“I'm going to make sure you never want anyone else again.”

He crushes her lips with his own, fitting them together and pushing closer until the only air he can breathe is hers. Because she’s ruined him already, absolutely thoroughly ruined him for anyone else ever, so fuck if he isn't going to try and do the same. Heavens forbid she ever lay with another man, he needs her to think of this night, of him. So he kisses and grinds and bites at her until her sighs turn into whines and she's grinding back up against him, and he’s swallowing every noise she makes and praying to every deity he can think of that he remembers exactly what she sounds like for the rest of his days.

He lets his claws graze at the skin just below her sleep-shirt, pulling back to look at her as he toys with it. The heaving of her chest as she struggles for breath fills him with satisfaction, but he needs to see it better. Without barriers between them.

“May I?”

She nods without hesitation and that alone has him pulsing in his breeches, but he strips her torso slowly. As desperate as he is for her, he wants to savour her like this.

He smirks when he sees shivers race through her body. He did that.

Her breasts meet the cool air of the room and he watches as her nipples pebble. He takes one in his hand, rolling it experimentally. She gasps.

“Look at you.” He can't help himself. “You're divine, Tav, you know that? All power and glory and incredible beauty, and yet you're here in bed with me.” He truly can't believe his luck. “I should think I’m dreaming.” If he is, he hopes he never wakes up.

“I won't be in bed with you much longer if you don't start touching me properly.” She’s going for annoyed, he thinks - frustrated perhaps. It just comes off needy, and he absolutely fucking loves it. It makes him laugh.

“Oh yes, I forgot to mention impatient, didn't I?” So eager. So-” he brushes his lips along hers, “greedy.”

He twists her nipple, slightly harder than he meant to actually, but it has her back arching off the bed into him and his mind goes blank. He kisses and teases and caresses her until she’s moaning more than she's breathing, and he can't get enough of her.

He kisses his way down her chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and lapping at it. Her reaction is immediate and intoxicating. He holds her down as she writhes and hisses, and before long she looks as desperate as he feels.

“Hells, Tav…” He can hardly catch a breath, his fingers replacing his mouth on her chest. She shudders. “Gods above, you're perfect. Writhing and shaking for me already. I’ll make you feel so good darling.”

She just moans in response. His cock jumps.

“Let me, please? Please?”

He can't hide the need in his voice. He wants to make her feel good. He needs it more than he's ever needed anything else in his life. He needs her to praise him and beg him and tell him how incredible she feels.

“You already are.” The words are barely there around her laugh.

He can't help leaning forward to taste her lips again as he preens silently, then he shakes his head determinedly. “I want to do more. I need to. I need to make you cum around my hands and against my mouth and-” He can't breathe. His lips dance over hers with every word. “Can I have you, Tav? Please?” He's so fucking desperate. “Can I have all of you?”

Tav reaches up and grabs his face, and for a moment he’s terrified. He's said too much, he’s being too much.

“You have me Rolan.” She whispers it into the space between them. “I’m yours.”

He can't fucking breathe.

“Say it again.”

Her eyes shine in the low light of the room, full of earnest. “I'm yours, Rolan.”

Between her confession and the way his name sounds on her lips, he’s gone.

He kisses her so hard he thinks his mouth might be bruised tomorrow, the points of his canines catching on the thin skin on the inside of his own mouth, but he doesn't care. He kisses her mouth, then her neck, then her chest, then her stomach, peeling her remaining clothes away as he descends, until he's tucked into the space between her legs and staring at her pussy.

She's fucking beautiful. Her folds are soft and pink like her lips, glistening with her arousal, and all he can think is that he did that. He made this beautiful woman wet, made her clit so hard it peeks through the soft skin that conceals it. He’s never been more turned on than he is at this moment, staring up at her body from her gorgeous cunt. He traces a single digit featherlight along her seam and her whole body shudders.

His voice is raspy even to his own ears when he finally finds words. “I’d like to taste you, if that's okay?”

She nods, but that isn't enough. He needs to hear her say it. Needs her to tell him she wants his mouth on her.

“Strange, I’m certain I remember you speaking the common tongue before.” He feels the smirk work its way back onto his face as she glares daggers at him from above. “I’m quite sure I can't touch you further without your explicit verbal assent-”

“Gods,” her voice is a high pitched whine, “please.”

So he does.

He's tentative at first, but the first brush of his lips against her core has her arching and sighing into him, and from there it isn't hard to lose himself in the way she grinds down onto his face. He catalogues every noise, every flinch and breath and clench of her thighs, desperately seeking what makes her feel the best. When he flattens his tongue against her, trying to taste as much of her as possible, her whole body jolts violently and she lets out a loud sob. He does it again to the same end, and before long he’s pinning her hips to the mattress and moving his tongue over her in earnest as she threads her fingers through his hair and pulls.

Her body is a temple, her cunt is the altar, and his tongue laving over her is the closest thing to worship he can think of. She tastes like salvation.

Her noises get higher and higher pitched, her hips rocking desperately, until her voice cracks and her legs spasm and suddenly she’s spilling into his mouth. He drinks from her deeply, swallowing her musk until her hips are stuttering.

When he finally wrenches himself away from her body, their eyes meet, and he can barely stand it. Her pupils are huge moons against the green of her irises. Every rise and fall of her chest has her tits jostling enticingly and he has the overwhelming urge to hide her from the world so that no one else’s dirty gaze ever sweeps across her again.

“Rolan.” Hells below, her voice is wrecked. “Fuck me.”

He’s pretty sure he blacks out.

When he’s once again aware of the world and the fact he exists within it, he’s tearing his shirt away from his skin. The appreciative gaze she sends over his torso has him preening.

His voice comes out ragged. “It would be my pleasure.”

And then he’s naked, all of their clothes forgotten, his body covering hers. The feeling of her soft, naked body pressing against his own makes him shiver. He gulps air greedily as he tries to remember how to breathe. She lifts one leg and hooks it over his hip, and that very much doesn't help.

As he gazes down at her, she looks right back at him, her expression raw and open, and he butterflies his touch across her cheek, just under her eyes. He feels like if he looked into them for too long, he’d drown, but he can't bear to look away.

And he could. He could drown in her. He could lose himself completely in everything she is and everything that she’s yet to be. He could lose himself in her body and her soul. He could be hers, if she wanted him to be.

The thought is terrifying.

Rolan has never wanted to belong to anyone. He wants to be strong and powerful, and she makes him feel anything but. She drags down every single wall he’s ever built around his heart, brick by wretched brick, and it absolutely fucking terrifies him.

He’s not used to feeling important. Or like his thoughts matter. But as she lays here, her nakedness bared to him, the softness in her eyes tells him that he is. That he matters. That he matters to her.

He gulps.

“Did you mean it?”

She looks slightly confused. “Mean what?”

Hells, he feels like he's going to cry. He’s not good at vulnerability. But he’s trying. For her, he’ll try.

“That I’m important to you. That you're mine. Did you mean that?”

Because he needs her to. He has to know she means it before he gives himself to her like this. Before he gives her this piece of his body and his soul that he's never wanted to give anyone else. Because if she takes this from him, she’ll be taking a piece of his heart with it, and he’s sure he'll never get it back. He’s sure he’ll never be able to give it to anyone else.

There's a soft, caring smile on her face, and it turns his insides to clay. She brushes her hand over his face, and he leans into it.

“I meant it.” She whispers. “Every word.”

That piece of his heart is forever hers.

He presses their foreheads together, looking into her eyes the best he can. He hopes she can see how much she means to him.

“Then I’m yours.” He can barely hear his own voice, but it's the gentlest it's ever been. “You're mine, and I’m yours.”

Then he's sinking into her.

He’s surrounded by wet heat as he slowly inches further inside her, and neither of them are quiet as their bodies join together. He's never felt anything like it. The impatient grip of his own fist can’t compare in the slightest to the spongy softness of her inner walls, clenching around him like a vice. He makes a small, testing thrust, trying to figure out how to move, and it makes fireworks erupt behind his eyes. He curls his tail around her leg, pulls her as close as he can, and collapses her forehead into the crook of her neck as he desperately tries to suck in air. His mind is completely empty.

“Rolan?”

He doesn’t speak.

“Are you okay?”

It hurts to form a coherent thought that isn't to do with the way she feels around him. “Yes, it's just-” earth-shattering, mind-numbing, life-altering, “I’m just-” trying not to cry, or cum, or both, “You're so tight, I just need a second.”

“Does it feel good?”

He scoffs, because did she really just fucking ask that? As if he isn't currently trying to remind his body that it’s still alive and that there's a heart pumping in his chest? As if he doesn't want to become a permanent resident of her perfect body, making his home at the apex of her thighs?

He lifts his head to scowl at her. “You're joking, right? Yes, Tav, you feel fucking incredib-”

She bears down on him, her muscles squeezing his cock impossibly tight, and he makes a noise more animal than anything else. His hips slam up into her on impulse and holy shit he could cum like this, her walls tensed around him.

He looks back at her, and sees the look in her eyes that tells him it was very much on purpose, that she was trying to unravel him, and the challenge he sees there? That's familiar territory. Spite and a need to win? That's second nature.

“You.” He growls it, and he sees the slight widening of her eyes. He digs his claws into her hips and thrusts and her arms swing wildly for purchase, landing on his shoulder, then forearm, the other grabbing his hip. “You are a fucking minx.”

He starts fucking her, hard and fast, because he's got a taste for it now, a craving for the way she flutters around him with every deep stroke. Her mouth falls open in a silent cry as he sets a punishing pace.

“Fuck, you drive me absolutely insane, you know that?” Words start tumbling from his lips without his permission. “Ever since I- ever since- since you stuck your nose in at the Grove. Hells. You occupy all of my fucking thoughts, Tav.” He’d be embarrassed if he wasn't so completely fucking cunt-drunk. “You terrify me and you put me in my place and I love it- fuck you feel so good.”

She's crying out, her whole body convulsing and shaking as she clings to him and he's never seen any sight more beautiful. No dream or conjuration could ever compare to the sight of her sprawled out below him, her pussy eagerly swallowing his cock.

“Please don't stop, Rolan, holy hells please don't- fuck!”

As if he’d fucking dream of it.

He grabs her by her shoulders and pounds into her, hard and fast and relentless and he’s not sure how he knows what to do but he just does. He was made for this, for fucking her. He’s so desperate to please her, to make her feel good, to make her his. He's muttering into her skin, begging and pleading with her, for what he isn't sure. But it's half gibberish and half Infernal and one-hundred percent pure pleasure and he can't stop himself. He's crying out and groaning and he’s going to fucking cum and he needs her so badly. So fucking badly.

He doesn't know what happens now, he realises.

“Tav, I’m close, I don't-” Does he need to stop? What happens if he stops?

“It's okay,” her reassurances are breathy and full of need, “it's okay, I want it. Please don't stop.”

Shit. He bites into the space between her shoulder and neck, a primal noise from deep in his chest rumbling out as he pistons his hips. She wants his seed in him. She wants him to fill her.

He’s going to fucking die.

He's frantic for it. He reaches down and desperately presses the pad of his finger into her clit, because he needs to know she's satisfied, he needs to feel her cum to know he's done a good job. His pleasure, however blinding it is, comes second to hers.

She makes a noise that almost sounds pained, and then she's clenching around his cock again and there's a rush of warmth spreading over his cock, and fuck she's cumming on him. She's cumming with his cock buried deep in her and that's it, he's finished, he might never breathe again.

There's nothing in his brain except the primal urge to fill her, and his movements grow uncoordinated as he chases his end. She whimpers and simpers and clenches her sensitive hole and that's his undoing.

He bites down on her skin again, and he might be worried about hurting her if the pleasure wasn't so blinding. His orgasm shocks through his whole body in a way it never has before, and there's static in his skull and the soles of his feet and his chest as his toes curl and he spills himself inside her. His cum spills from him in thick, powerful bursts and he chokes and twitches as he fills her with it.

They lay there like that for an age. His body plastered over hers, his cock softening and his cum cooling inside of her while he gasps desperately for air. Eventually, the feeling grows uncomfortable, and with a reluctant groan he slides out of her and rolls to the side.

Everything is silent except for the pounding of his own heart in his ears. He drapes an arm over his eyes and tries to take deep, steadying breaths.

“Rolan, can you…”

Her voice rouses him back to the present. He glances at her past it and meets her eyes. She looks throughly fucked, but slightly uncomfortable, and he realises why after just a moment. He casts prestidigitation, focusing on cleaning his spend from her (though he almost abhors the thought). After another moment, he casts a simple healing spell, and he hears her relieved sigh and feels the bed dip as she relaxes.

It's so quiet all of a sudden.

“That was-”

“Rolan, I-”

They both turn to look at each other at the same time, and a grin breaks out on his face as they both descend into breathless giggles.

He turns his body, props himself up on an elbow to get a better look at her. She's magnificent.

“That was incredible.” The words sound disbelieving, even to his own ears. “You're incredible.”

He reaches out to touch her, a hand resting over her navel, and her own hand comes to cover it. It sends warmth through him.

“So are you.” And Gods, what a lovely feeling to believe her. “I can't believe you hide all of this beneath those robes.”

He’s laughing, real and true and so unburdened by everything that’s happened to him over the last months that it almost takes him by shock. But it shouldn't. It doesn't. Because it's her.

And when it makes her laugh, too? Breathless and weightless and utterly enthralling as her face lights up with joy?

Worth it.

She struggles to talk through her laughter, “and you- you did-” She laughs again, loud and free, “how did you do that? Any of that! Who taught you that?! I need to write them a letter, maybe send them a bouquet.”

It sends him into hysterics despite the rising heat in his face, and he throws himself back down onto the bed, covering his face with his hands to hide his embarrassment. “No one taught me anything, Tav. I was quite sure I’d be awful, if you must know.”

She goes suddenly silent. It stretches. He feels unease brewing in his gut.

Why did he say that?

After another second of agonising silence, he slowly parts his fingers to peek through them at her. He's worried he’ll see disdain there, perhaps disappointment, but instead she just sits staring at him, mouth agape.

“What?”

She blinks. Blinks again. “You're a virgin?”

He makes an incredibly unattractive noise at her bluntness, “was a virgin, I believe. Unless my performance was so poor it doesn't count.”

It's meant as a jest, but he can't help the undercurrent of uncertainty that slips through his words. What if she’s disgusted, knowing he’s never laid with anyone else? What if she feels taken advantage of, that he didn't tell her before?

But her jaw just stays slack, her eyes blinking. He chuckles, bringing a knuckles below her chin and lifting it to meet the rest of her skull.

“Careful, dear, you'll catch flies.”

The pet name slips through so easily it's almost enough to send him spiralling again, but the feeling of her soft skin against his hand keeps him grounded.

She shakes her head, disbelieving, and boy if that isn't a stroke to his ego. “You're lying. That wasn't your first time. I don't believe you. No one knows how to do that the first time.”

He feels his cheeks heating, and wrenches away from her gaze. Truthfully, he was mostly running on instinct and the books he reads before bed. He tries to think of something witty to say.

“... I’m an academic. I studied the matter.”

He fails, evident by the way her eyes light with mischief as she snorts. “You ‘studied the matter’? That's an incredibly polite way of saying you read porn.”

Brilliant. Perfect, even. No, that's fine, he’ll just walk into the shadows outside and let himself turn into dust. That would be preferable, he thinks. He forces a shrug, but it's completely ineffective coupled with his blazing cheeks.

She just laughs, and lays down on his chest, her head over his heart. It feels appropriate.

Not appropriate. That's the wrong word. It feels… right. It feels like that's exactly where she should be, like she's simultaneously always been there and that she's never left.

His heart hammers beneath her. Uncertainty rears its ugly head once more.

It's all gone so awfully, terribly, perfectly quickly, and once again in the silence he begins to wonder when the other shoe is going to drop.

“... You truly meant it? Everything you said?”

Fighting for his life, losing his siblings, staring into the hollow eyes of cultists and supernatural creatures. All of these things he’s faced as of late, and he’s still never been more scared than he is in this moment.

She sits up, looks at him, and he mourns the loss of her head on his chest while simultaneously celebrating the ability to see her face. She doesn't say anything, she just waits, and that almost makes it harder.

“I have to check, before-” he cuts himself off with a deep, shuddering breath.

Before I fall in love with you.

“I have to know, because I won't survive this if you don't. I have to know.”

Because I think I already love you.

She looks at him for a long time, and he's so achingly scared that he’s made it too obvious. That his feelings are written across his face and she's going to pull away. That between giving her his virginity and looking up at her now with nothing but raw vulnerability, he's shown his cards too soon and scared her into folding her hand.

Her eyes drift down to his chest. His heart sinks.

Then she's tracing patterns into it, her touch featherlight, and his breathing hitches.

“I meant it. Every word. I’m yours, if you want me. I can't promise for how long, everything we’re doing is so-” she takes a breath, and he tries to ignore where he thinks that sentence was going. “But I’m yours. If you want me to be.”

And for the umpteenth time in the last few hours, he finds himself completely breathless. When she looks back up at him, their eyes meeting once more, she sees the same vulnerability reflected in her eyes that he feels deep in his stomach, and he just knows. He knows he loves her.

“I want nothing more.”

[lavnderwonu]

the boy next door | jeon wonwoo

pairing: idol!boyfriend!wonwoo x fem!reader

genre: secret relationship, established relationship, smut

summary: sneaking around with your secret boyfriend.

warnings: smut (!!!), little plot lol, wonwoo as your secret boyfriend, softdom! wonwoo, wonwoo is hot (yes that's a warning), mirror sex (kinda?), pet names (baby), praise kink, size kink AHEM, clitoral stimulation, fingering, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, reader has to be quiet, hint at another round.

word count: 1.9k

author’s note!: when i tell you this concept has been on my mind for weeks... i'm not lying. the wonwoo brainrot was hitting HARD when i was writing this. i was originally going to make it a secret situationship but im a #1 hater of that whole thing so relationship it is. plus i just think it'd be hot. who wouldn't want wonu as their secret boyfriend? anyway, let me know what you think, i appreciate feedback! 🩷

click here to join my taglist!

Your phone buzzes on your nightstand as you’re in your bathroom, going through your night time routine, just like any other night. As soon as you make it to your phone, it’s stopped ringing. Unlocking it, you see a notification.

Wonwoo

Missed Call

Your boyfriend. Well, only you knew he was your boyfriend, anyway. Although you’d be lying if you never posted any “soft launches” of you two, whether it was an extra iced americano on your counter, or a very obvious mystery man driving while you sat in the passenger seat.

Before you can even call him back, he’s already texting you.

Wonwoo: are you awake? Wonwoo: i saw your story earlier. you looked nice.

You went out earlier in the day to run your usual errands, which usually consisted of shopping of some sort, then wandering around a bookstore. You threw on a cute floral mini dress, and for good measure, you promptly decided to take a picture in your full-body mirror hoping a certain someone would see.

You laugh to yourself, typing out a reply.

you liked it? well you’re too late. i’m in my pajamas now.

It was only 11:30 pm, so maybe it was a tad early for pajamas for some. But for all you know he was probably in sweats playing some game on his phone or reading a book.

Wonwoo: i don’t care, you always look pretty baby Wonwoo: come over here

He lived down the hall from you, with his roommate and best friend, Mingyu. His apartment was easy access, but pretty risky if Mingyu was there, so usually Wonwoo would just come over to yours.

You're about to ask is mingyu there? until he answers the question before you even finish typing.

Wonwoo: mingyu’s gone

You bite your lip, typing a reply. Fuck, you can’t say no.

on my way

You toss your phone on your bed, quite literally, quickly getting yourself ready, you decide to put on your favorite lavender-colored bra and matching panties underneath your pajamas you already had on. Your favorite color; and a different variation of his.

Going down the hall from your apartment, you reach his door, quickly knocking a few times before he answers.

“I thought you were joking when you said you were in pajamas,” Wonwoo jokes, examining you as you walk in. “You were serious.”

“Shut up, it was getting late.” You blush, as you damn near fight the urge to jump him, cause damn. He looks too good, even in a hoodie and sweatpants.

“You look cute,” He pulls you close to him, his fingers sliding underneath your shirt to grip your waist. “Can’t wait to take them off…”

You lean into him, fingers lightly threading through his hair that’s gotten so much longer recently.

“How much time do we have?”

“Hours.” Wonwoo responds, confident. “Mingyu said he was going out with Jungkook, they’ll probably be out half the night drinking.”

His hands slowly slide up your back, sending your heart thrumming in your chest, you’re unable to deny the effect he has on you.

You both know you’d eventually have to go public with your relationship, but for now, you’d just enjoy the adrenaline rush you get everytime you’re alone together.

You make it to his bedroom, in a heated kiss, you back away to safely removing his glasses and placing them on his nightstand.

Kneeling on his bed in front of him, you quickly tug at the hoodie he has on. “Off.” You order him, and he obeys, pulling it over his head.

He tosses to the floor, before kissing you again, his hands slide up your shirt, groping your breasts lightly through your bra, making you softly moan against his lips. He breaks the kiss and his lips softly trail along the corner of your lips, to your jaw, and onward.

You begin working on unbuttoning your silky pajama shirt as Wonwoo trails wet kisses down your neck. His hands take over, effortlessly unbuttoning it. Your eyes glance over to the mirror on the wall, giving you a full view of you kneeling on his bed and him towering over you.

He slips your shirt off your shoulders, and his eyes briefly follow your gaze, realizing what you’re looking at.

“Are you watching yourself in the mirror?” Wonwoo says into your ear, giving you chills.

“Uh-huh.” Your breath shaky as you reply, nodding.

“Turn around.” He suddenly demands, kissing behind your ear before you turn around, your back now facing him.

Wonwoo wraps one arm around your torso, holding you against his sturdy chest. His hand lightly touches your chin, turning you to face the mirror again.

“Keep watching yourself, baby.”

You watch as his free hand slips underneath your pajama shorts, his fingers lightly ghosting over your clothed clit. You gasp as your hips jolt, desperately seeking out more friction.

“Wonwoo…” You gasp, gripping his arm tighter.

His hand slides underneath the elastic of your underwear, applying firm pressure as he circles your clit, before you feel his fingers slide down between your folds and he mutters a breathy fuck against your neck when he feels how wet you are already.

“You’re already dripping for me, baby.” Wonwoo says deeply, voice slightly muffled into your neck. “Couldn’t wait to see me, could you?”

He’s expecting an answer, and it’s impossibly hard now that he’s sliding two fingers inside you, expertly curling his fingers to find that special spot that you often couldn’t reach yourself.

“N-no, I couldn’t… thought about you all day.” You cry, nails digging into his forearm, and he’s seemingly unfazed by it. His fingers pound into your sweet spot, making your head fall back against his shoulder.

“Fuck, look at how pretty you look.” Wonwoo says, glancing at your reflection, your brows furrowed as you focus on the feeling of his fingers inside you.

“I’m so close…” You whine, turning to bury your face in his neck as you inhale the sweet scent of his cologne like you never want to forget it.

“I know, baby. You’re fucking squeezing my fingers.” Wonwoo grunts as your walls clench around his fingers. “Let it go, I got you.”

Your legs shake as you grip onto his forearm for dear life, desperate for something to hold onto. A cry of his name leaves your lips as you cum, your heart racing, panting trying to catch your breath.

“That’s my girl.” Wonwoo turns to kiss your forehead gently, his fingers slip from your dripping center, brushing your clit one last time and the friction is enough to make you wince.

He releases his hold on you, and you turn around to face him, kissing him needily. “Fuck me,” You whisper against his lips. “I need you.”

“So needy…” Wonwoo playfully mocks you, suddenly turning into his unintentionally adorable self, as if he didn’t just pull a powerful orgasm out of you moments ago. “Don’t I at least get to enjoy this cute little set you wore for me?” He pulls off your shirt, even though it was already damn near falling off anyway.

You blush, kissing him again.

“We don’t have time for that.” You chuckle, already feeling somewhat anxious that Mingyu is going to walk into the apartment at any second.

Wonwoo can read you like a book, and he notices right away. “Hey, there’s no rush.” He says gently, as his hands reach behind you to unhook your bra.

You slide it off the rest of the way, then toss it on the floor. “I know, I’m just enjoying this. I don’t want to be interrupted.” You drape your arms over his shoulders as you press your body against him, kissing him fervently. You moan against his lips as you feel his hard cock pressing against you.

You slide your hands down his chest, reaching to loop your fingertips into the waistband of his sweatpants. “Take these off, baby.” You whisper as you kiss his along jaw a few times, before you grope his length through them for emphasis. “Please.”

Wonwoo gently nudges you to fall back on his bed, and you sit up on your elbows, eagerly watching him as he obeys you, taking them off. “Better?” His gaze meets yours as you look him over.

You eagerly nod, lifting your hips for him as he rids you of your pajama shorts you still had on, along with your soaking wet underwear.

“How do you want it, baby?” Wonwoo huskily asks you, removing his underwear. He curses under his breath as he watches you bend your knees and spread your legs apart, allowing him full access to you.

You gasp as you feel him suddenly pull you further down on his bed, quickly followed by a whine as you feel the weight of his cock on your clit. You sit up on your elbows to see him dragging his cock through your folds, coating himself in your wetness.

Both of you can only watch, breathing heavily.

“Wonwoo…” You whine his name, gripping the sheets beneath you as the tip of his cock bumps you clit again. You both watch as he lines himself up with your entrance, finally pushing inside you.

“Look at that.” Wonwoo grunts, watching you take every inch, feeling your walls stretch to accommodate him.

“Fuck…” You throw your head back, a soft moan falling from your lips as you feel so full. “You’re too big…”

“You take me so well…look at you.” Wonwoo praises you, as his hands come up to gently stroke your inner thighs, and it’s enough to get you to relax. “You okay?”

You nod, “Yeah, you can move. Please.”

He starts to pound into you at a steady pace, making you grab onto his shoulders for something to hold onto. Your nails dig into his skin as he drives his cock into your sweet spot over and over.

You let out a sob of a moan, and Wonwoo thinks it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard.

“God, you sound so pretty,” He moans, “Crying for me…”

“I’m not gonna last long.” You whine, your walls already clenching around him.

Your heart nearly stops in your chest when suddenly you hear the front door to the apartment open, then hear Mingyu enter.

You gasp, and Wonwoo quickly shushes you.

“Relax, he’s not going to come in here, he probably thinks I left.” He whispers, all the while he hasn’t stopped fucking you.

“Can you be quiet?”

You can barely find the words to speak, your brain too focused on the feeling of his cock inside you.

“Answer me.”

You frantically nod, and that’s about all you can muster the strength to do. Your walls clench around him and he knows you’re close.

“Shit, I’m gonna come…” You softly moan, as quiet as you can, then you feel his hand cover your mouth, muffling your cries as your walls squeeze his cock hard, but he keeps fucking you through your high.

He keeps going until he’s coming too, groaning into your neck as you feel his cock nearly throbbing as he releases inside of you.

“Fuck…” Wonwoo sighs, as you both are catching your breath. “That wasn’t how that was supposed to happen.” You both smile bashfully at each other.

You gently thread your fingers through his hair, pushing it back off his forehand.

“That’s okay, we can sneak over to my place… we won’t have to be quiet.”

tags: @dearlyjun @cosmojinyoung

some others i couldn’t tag! 💔

[hotwritergf]

oh boy i have hotch requests aplenty 🫡 i have brainrot for any fic where hotch says 'you can take it' or something to that effect it makes me WEAK. i just picture him teasing you all throughout the day and then finally giving it to you but you whimpering cause of all the edging and overstimulation. oh and i LOVE your blog and not just the writing!! although that is thoroughly enjoyable

I’ll be your girl, I’ll let you taste it. 🎀

"It feels good when daddy touches you here, doesn't it?"

Aaron hissed, his voice breathy and full of lust. Fingers working over your already soaked through panties, as his gravelly voice causes you to melt deeper into the mattress.

"You're so wet already, so needy for me aren't you princess?"

Hotch slips your panties to the side, gaining access to your entrance. Worming his index and middle finger through your folds and pushing them inside you.

"There you go baby, that's what you needed."

Your core clenches around his fingers, your walls tight against him. He grunts, wishing you were wrapped around his cock. But this is about you. Your pleasure. You gasp as his fingertips graze your sensitive spot deep inside of you, his thumb still circling your clit.

A guttural moan escapes your lips, blessing Aaron's ears. His touch is soft, his fingers travel slowly with every thrust he stimulates your g-spot. He's two knuckles deep, touching you in the only way you know. Beyond Aaron's actions, you've never experienced and when he's away?

You find yourself rutting your hips against the sheets, desperately trying to replicate the feeling of his love. Your moans grow more desperate, your orgasm growing in the pit of your stomach.

"Shh, you can take it. You have to take it. How else will you learn to take daddy's cock?"

Your eyes close, squeezing them tightly shut and seeing constellations behind your eyelids. Each brush of his thumbprint sending you closer to the edge, you feel like you're levitating. Somewhere between this world and the next, high on the ecstasy that is his affection. You mumble under your breath, your words low and hoarse as you tell him you're ready.

Aaron slides your panties down your legs, bundling them up in his hands and placing them on the side. Leaning forward to kiss your belly, showing you that you're safe. It's soft, gentle, you know you're under good care.

He lines his cock up to your entrance, spanking it against your clit. With one movement, he slides inside you. His cock right inside you, your walls closing around him with a squeeze. Aaron steadies himself, granting you a first thrust.

"There you go baby-girl. You take daddy so well, your pussy was made for me."