#but fuck I feel so alone even in a room full of people

[elminx]

I must be honest here for a moment: If you need to pretend that everything will be good this holiday season—that life will be easy, fun, or all hugs and puppies—this is your warning to stop reading now.

The TL:DR: Mercury is retrograde, Mars retrogrades on Friday, the Sun and retrograde Mercury both square Saturn this week AND oppose retrograde Jupiter.

This is the vice (represented by expansive Jupiter in Gemini square to constrictive Saturn in Pisces), and we are solidly inside it, with two personal planets in retrograde.

When looking at transits, in general, the personal planets affect our personal lives, while the outer planets affect the world at large, with Saturn and Jupiter being somewhere in between. If the outer planets are being fuckidy, or sometimes even if Jupiter and Saturn are being fuckidy, the wins tend to feel less sweet and the losses that much more sour.

Jupiter square Saturn is a big deal. This is an ascending square, which means that the two planets are already within an orb to be square to one another (3°) but have not yet reached exactitude. We wouldn't be talking about this square THIS week - since it is not exact yet, making it mostly background noise - except that both the Sun and retrograde Mercury will actualize this square as they move into a t-square position with Saturn and Jupiter.

Jupiter wants us to move fast, but Saturn forces us to slow down. Therein lies the problem. We all have Jupiter and Saturn represented in our own charts in different signs and house placements in aspect or not to other planets. Depending on this (and on other factors in our personal lives), we might be identifying more with Jupiter, Saturn, or both this week.

This alone is enough to infer that many people (and societies as a greater whole) will come to a standstill this week. Something has got to give, but there is little room to move, let alone take a load off or get out of the way.

That's before we even begin to look at what effect double personal planetary retrogrades are likely to have. Mercury retrograde is messing with communication, mostly. We aren't being heard or listening right now. On top of this, Mars is now effectively standing still (holding the same degree in the sky) in advance of its retrograde on Friday.

All together, we are communicating ineffectively, stymied in action, and stuck in a vice between needing to expand and being forced to contract simultaneously.

This isn't fun stuff, to be sure. You might not want me to point it out or to look at it. But I don't believe in the ostrich method of putting your head in the sand to avoid what is happening in the world around us. I believe that astrology allows us to contextualize the shit that is happening around us so that we don't take what isn't personal quite so personally.

Does it mean that your life will be shit this week?

Of fucking course not. We all live lives full of ups and downs, wins and losses. We still have free will and can choose to live the best life we have, even if it's in the worst of circumstances.

I just subscribe to the idea that the people who succeed at this most often have their eyes wide open, not screwed shut.

So, instead of catastrophizing because your Friendly Neighborhood Minx pointed out the shitty weather, how about focusing on what you can do to give yourself more space this week? How about more grace? And once you've extended that to yourselves, try extending it to your Others. There are ways to set yourself up to have the best week you can have IN THE CURRENT CIRCUMSTANCES.

Most of the time, we don't control the current circumstances. What we do control is what we do with them and how we react to them.

What do you—your meat suit, your heart, your soul—need this week? Do you need to go outside and stand in the winter sun even if it's cold? Do you need to log off social media so you aren't triggered by all of the people who will be stuck in it by this vice of Jupiter and Saturn? Do you need to set extra alarms on your phone so you don't zone out too much from Mercury retrograde? Do you need to remember to apply extra lotion to counteract the forced hot air?

I personally find that when life gets rough, the little things make all the difference. With so much going on in the skies, the big things must wait for a different week anyway, so you might as well take care of yourself.

Energy Update: December 2024

December is a “2” Universal Month (12 (December) + 8 (2024) =20 = 2+0 = 2] in an “8” Universal Year. Two is a movement number – things begin to balance out from the pure creation of the energy of the “1” month prior, and decisions start to present themselves. This aligns poorly with the astrology of the month, which is dominated by two major personal planet retrogrades (Mercury and Mars). In order to seek out balance or come into alignment with what is, we may need to work backward.

The Set Up

We begin the month with the Sun and retrograde Mercury in Sagittarius, Venus in Capricorn, Mars deep in its pre-retrograde shadow in Leo, retrograde Jupiter in Gemini, Saturn and Neptune in Pisces, retrograde Uranus in Taurus, and Pluto in Capricorn. This month, we will only have two planetary ingresses: our Sun will enter Capricorn, and Venus will enter Aquarius. This is due to Mercury’s retrograde, which ends on 12/15, that keeps our planet of Communication, Travel, and Technology in the sign of its exile for an exceptionally long time.

The Details

All eyes are on Mars, which will retrograde on 12/06 at 06° Leo. This retrograde will stretch into the new year; it ends in late February, but the post-retrograde shadow will continue until the beginning of May. This is the Big News Bear of the month as it will impact our entire holiday season, but it also sets the tone for 2025.

Mars

Mars gets top billing this month due to its upcoming retrograde on 12/6. This isn’t a post specifically about the retrograde (that’ll be out later – look for it in your email if you’re signed up for my mailing list), but it is significant enough to warrant a brief discussion. Mars is the slowest moving of our personal planets and tends to retrograde every 26 months or so. Because this planet dictates our modes of action and energy levels, we can expect forward motion (as a whole) and output to be lower during Mars’ retrograde periods. This is business as usual and the expected result of a Mars retrograde, but that doesn’t mean that people will be comfortable or accepting of this outcome.

Therein lies a lot of the struggles of a Mars retrograde cycle. Many of us (especially those ruled by Mars – Aries and Scorpio – or those with strong Martian placements) rely on accomplishments and consistent action to regulate our nervous systems. When thwarted, the Martian temperament can get aggressive and moody. Some types can be pushy or overtly forceful, and if one thing is for sure, it is that nothing should be forced during a Mars retrograde. Let it unfold slowly, and try to enjoy the ride.

This retrograde starts in fixed fiery Leo and ends in cardinal watery Cancer. A lot of people are going to fuck some shit up so that they can feel like they are still sitting on their throne and likely cry about it later.

It’s wise to remember that the planets aren’t here to hurt us, no matter how much our dysregulated brains might try to tell us so. Instead, if we look at planetary retrogrades as an opportunity to review, restart, realign, reassess, and rejuvenate, they can actually be valuable times of othered space. Each planet in retrograde adds a layer of the liminal to the space soup, and the more planets in retrograde at a time, the more liminal our space becomes.

It’s worth noting here that Mars’ retrograde overlaps with Mercury’s in December by five days (from 12/6-12/15). These are powerful days to slow down and assess where your life is and what you need to change to move forward. This is especially fortunate for those who celebrate the new year in January, as it is an early chance to align yourself with your goals for the year ahead.

Mars will station direct on 2/23, so this is a long-game transit – much longer than Mercury’s month-long retrogrades. Other than slowing us all down (and probably causing some significant tifts over the holidays), Mars won’t be doing much this month as – during the time when a planet stations (changes directions) they tend to hold their position in the sky for an abnormally long time. If you have a personal planet in the early degrees of the fixed signs (Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, Aquarius), you might feel the strain of Mar’s lack of movement all month. Expect things to get angsty. Expect divas to be on the very biggest tears. It is what it is; I find Leo’s energy pretty easy to walk away from if it’s getting to be too much, but your experience may vary.

Iron gate boundaries might be in order, especially with that incredibly demanding family member who never figured out that they aren’t the main character in your life. You might find that you need to do less; if you do, know you are right on time.

Mars retrogrades are almost inevitably challenging. Even if you can manage your own life slowing down (some of us even like it this way), you still have to deal with the absolute temper tantrums of those who can’t stand still for whatever reason. Stay aware of the Aries, Scorpio, and Capricorn types in your life (Sun, Moon, Ascendant, and Mars placements mostly here) or anyone with Mars in Cancer or Leo. They may be seriously losing their shit (and, if so, iron-clad boundaries, as I said), but they may also just need support as to what to do when you can’t do.

This retrograde aligns well with the season of withdrawal (lovingly called Fallowtide by some) but less well with our hustle-and-bustle holiday season. It’s okay not to do anything, especially if you are prone to low energy for any number of reasons. Take care of yourself often and early.

Our Lights: The Sun and the Moon

Our big win for the month is our two new moons – the first in Sagittarius on 12/01 and the second in Capricorn on 12/30 – which bookmark our month. Our Capricorn moon is especially auspicious because – as I have mentioned elsewhere – in 2024, we had two Capricorn new moons and two full moons. If, as I suggested, you have worked the Capricorn moons this year, this is your fourth and final chance to do so. Even though it is early from a calendar perspective, I would do any magic working or intention setting for 2025 during the hour of the new moon on 12/30. Capricorn is THE sign of long-term planning. Use that to your advantage.

We begin the month on 12/1 (always significant as the 1st dictates the energy for the month ahead) with a new moon at 09° Sagittarius in a t-square with Saturn at 13° Pisces and retrograde Jupiter at 16° Gemini. It’s worth noting two things here. The first is that Sagittarius, the sign of our lunation, is ruled by the planet Jupiter, which is currently in the sign of its exile, Gemini. Luck is on the fritz right now, and all that glitters is most certainly not gold. Additionally, this square between Jupiter and Saturn is Ascendanting meaning that the two planets haven’t actually met at a 90° angle; we are working towards this square, not away from it.

This square between Jupiter and Saturn, currently in Pisces and Gemini, will be a major player in the energy of 2025. The planets meet in an exact square on the Pisces-Gemini axis and the Aries-Cancer axis. Luck may have gone awry, but this is an opportunity to glimpse what lies ahead.

So you are saying, there is a chance. On this day the answer is almost irrevocably yes.

Our Sagittarius new moon is a 9/2 new moon. 9 (Sagittarius moon) + 9 (Sagittarius Sun) = 18 = 1+8 = 9. 9 (Sagittarius new moon) + 2 (December 2024) = 11 = 1+1 = 2.

We are in the midst of some big endings, symbolized by the “9” energy, but the “2” echoes the glimpse into the future and the choices that lie ahead. This is a day well spent in divination or pathfinding of all kinds.

Our Sagittarius Sun squares Saturn on 12/04, which should not surprise anyone. Everyone is being held accountable for their actions in some way or another. This is business as usual; the Sun squares Saturn twice a year, but I’ve always noticed that it seems to show up like clockwork when the world needs it the most. Any Sun/Saturn transit adds a lot of power to magic used for justice and to hold people accountable for their actions. The sign of the archer can be especially helpful for Justice spellwork as Sag has a natural desire toward the highest good. If you work with runes, the Tiwaz rune would be especially useful during this time.

Our full moon falls on 12/15 at 23° Gemini. It is mostly unaspected besides a square to Neptune in Pisces, which carries energy similar to a major lunation anyway. This is also the day that Mercury stations direct at 06° Sagittarius. The twofold nature of switching, Mercury in direction and the Moon in purpose (wax on/wane off if you will) can be used to enact many types of magic for change. Mars is retrograde by this point, though, so be careful how you word anything focused on movement in the physical world during this time. Think Road Opener rather than a spell to force direction.

Our Gemini full moon is a 3/5 full moon. 3 (Gemini moon) + 9 (Sagittarius Sun) = 12 = 1 + 2 = 3. 3 (Gemini full moon) + 2 (December 2024) = 5.

3 is our Manifestation number (useful for all types of magic), and 5 has the go-to-itsness to break through nearly all barriers.

Once the Sun enters Capricorn, it squares the lunar nodes on 12/23. Our lunar nodes will leave the Aries-Libra axis for Pisces-Virgo at the end of January; this is the end of the line for this cycle. Capricorn, ruled by Saturn, can work too hard to keep the peace at times; where are you saying “yes” when you really mean “no” in your life? This might be one less thorn in an old wound or pass less painfully. Cardinal signs are the most likely to notice this transit.

It all comes full circle to our new moon at 09° Capricorn on 12/30. This lunation is still in a wide square to our lunar nodes and is also sextile to Saturn, echoing the energy of that early Sun-Saturn square. Both Saturn and the lunar nodes rule something you could classify as fate or destiny. But in a less woo way than many would use the terms today. Some things are meant to be. You live. You die. A volcano erupts. A major plague races across the land. Because you took your first breath at this exact time in that exact place, you will live through these things. Because our Moon touches on both, but not in exactitude, I would expect all of us to be contemplating our place in the universe a bit during this lunation. Both where we have been – our place in this existence – and where we are going.

What can we can do to help? (Helping is the best way to actualize Capricorn energy)

Our Capricorn new moon is a 2/4 new moon. 10 (Capricorn Moon) + 10 (Capricorn Sun) = 20 = 2+0 = 2. 2 (Capricorn New moon) + 2 (December 2024) = 4.

I have to giggle at this because I consider Capricorns to naturally carry a lot of “4” energy around with them. “4” is a very balanced number; it is all about structure. What are Capricorns doing if not shoring up their world to protect it from the elements? (as is their nature, being born in the deep winter months) When considering the power of the Number 4, I would ask you to think of the older man-made structures still standing. Did the Egyptian pyramids come to mind? That is “4” energy; it grounds in all directions; it has longevity. Again, this 4 energy makes this a great day to do magic or set intentions for the new year ahead. You may wish to set an intention that will become manifest by the Capricorn full moon on 7/10/25.

Mercury

For the first half of December, Mercury will be moving backward in retrograde towards 06° Sagittarius, where it will station direct under the light of our Gemini full moon. This is notable because Mercury is the ruling planet of Gemini; this will be a day highly invigorated with Mercurial energy. We should all realize by now that Mercury retrograde is business as usual and simply a change in the expression of our “normal” Mercury energy. I’ve written more about this particular Mercury retrograde here.

It’s worth also remembering that Mercury is in exile in Sagittarius because Sagittarius is the opposite sign of Gemini, the sign of Mercury’s domicile. In Sagittarius, thoughts can be demanding, and people can become convinced that their way of thinking is the only right way. We all need to watch out for intellectual elitism and educational superiority, two bad behaviors of Mercury in Sagittarius. Every lived experience brings a different story and background to the table, and we need each to function together rather than separately. This is the first hit on this lesson, and it will take on a greater meaning as our North Node enters Pisces next month.

This retrograde cycle involves big hitters Jupiter in Gemini and Saturn in Pisces. This circles back to what I said above about Jupiter square Saturn having a big part to play in the year ahead. We often visit troublesome aspects through Mercury first. This cosmically makes some sense because when presented with a problem, to proceed, the best course of action is usually to think something through. Keep in mind that in firecracker Sagittarius, Mercury does not seem inclined to take that kind of time.

It is an oversimplification, but Jupiter brings the Go/Expansion energy and Saturn the Stop/Retraction energy. This is interesting because Jupiter gets nothing but space to expand in formless, airy Gemini, which you would think it would like, but it really doesn’t (it is the sign of Jupiter’s exile), and amorphous watery Pisces does nothing to give Saturn the form it so desperately requires. Neither giant is at its best, making them more demanding. In this case, Saturn will always be the rock, and Jupiter is playing the role of the hard place.

Mercury has to pass through this vice three times. We’ve done this once while Mercury was in forward motion and when Jupiter and Saturn weren’t in a very tight square. The second pass happens early this month between 12/04 when Mercury opposes Jupiter (each planet in its exile, a nasty untethered opposition) and 12/06 when Mercury squares Saturn. We might want to expand during this time (or just jump out of the way of the rocks rolling downhill toward us), but there’s nowhere to go. This is the hole of Mercury’s retrograde cycle; I’d bet most people fall into it somehow.

Alternatively, you could be trying to get your ball rolling, and one thing after another keeps getting in the way. This kind of aspect works both ways, sometimes both ways in the same situation, which can be extremely uncomfortable.

That the Mercury-Saturn squares goes exact as Mars retrogrades on 12/06 tells us a lot about the character of that day. Just don’t. If it’s not Essential, emphasis on the Capital E, do it another day. Things generally grind to a halt for a reason. You can force the wheels or look for a rock in the tires. The choice is, of course, up to you.

And then, just in time for Christmas, we get our third pass-through of this rough t-square between Mercury, Jupiter, and Saturn between 12/24 and 12/26, this time with Mercury in forward motion. If you need to make amends for anything you said out of line earlier in the month, this is the time to come clean about it. The more you take responsibility for your own part in this mess, the less pressure Saturn will put on you. Always placate Saturn first; Jupiter is too all-important to care about turn order.

Things will feel a bit easier after Mercury’s retrograde ends mid-month, but Mercury remains in its exile all month long as it tracks its way all through its post-retrograde shadow in Sagittarius. The benefit of Sagittarius is that most Sag will tell the absolute truth as they see it. Sometimes, that includes coming clean about things, too. It should be no surprise that this will be a holiday season full of hard conversations; we can hope that at least they include honesty and words spoken from the heart. (Sag sometimes needs to be reminded they have a heart, but they will come in strong once encouraged there)

Mars will greatly overshadow this retrograde, but keeping it in the back of your mind is still important. If that person is just talking out of their ass, maybe make a snide comment to yourself, blame Mercury, and walk the fuck away. If it takes an extra two hours and a detour to get to Gramma’s house, that’s two hours less of talking to Uncle Eddie. Make sure you are sending those nudes to Tara in Sales and not Tara, your boss, if you know what I mean. Things tend to go awry during a Mercury retrograde cycle when we are on autopilot and not paying attention.

The easy and obvious anecdote to that is to pay attention. Standard Mercury retrograde advice applies: save often, double-check before you hit Send, and expect delays. Your friendly neighborhood Geminis and Virgos will be down for the count like they are every Mercury retrograde. The energy of all things communication, technology, and travel will be slower and deeper as Mercury wanders the low road. The more you can work with Mercury’s energy rather than against it, the easier your life will be.

Mercury exits its post-retrograde shadow in early January. We will have relatively smooth sailing with our planet of communication until the end of March and early April.

Venus

Venus is almost two full signs ahead of our Sun and Mercury all month long as it begins the month in Capricorn and ends it in Aquarius. It is on its own journey, which doesn’t really include stepping in to help out with the inevitable squabbles that are bound to come up all month long as both Mercury and Mars retrograde in fire signs. Venus can be pretty far out there in the fixed air sign of Aquarius and, at times, even unattainable.

Venus makes two major appearances this month. First, Venus will conjunct Pluto at 00° Aquarius on 12/07. Pluto is our outermost planet and seems responsible for the erosion of all things through the lens of time itself. Of course, in Roman mythology, Pluto was the god of the Underworld. On a long enough timeline, all things end: nations, marriages, lives, and this world.

Pluto has never before been in the sign of Aquarius when astrologers knew of the planet’s influence, so we can only surmise what this new journey will bring to humanity. But we will taste it through a Venusian lens this month.

Then, on 12/12, Venus opposed retrograde Mars in Leo. This is pretty big break-up weather, but that shouldn’t be anything to worry about if you are in a safe and secure relationship. Leo and Aquarius aren’t that different from one another (Sun sign opposites are and should be ready as a pair), but where they differ is very stark. Where Leo is a traditionalist, Aquarius is pointed straight toward the wildest of infinite possibilities. Leo wants the world, and Aquarius wants the universe. They can become aligned but often choose not to out of ego and the inability to step off their respective daises.

Fixed signs aren’t inclined to move; that much is for sure, and this will go doubly for all Martian and Leo types during this time. If anyone is going to give an inch, it will have to be Aquarius.

Although I specified break-up weather, I want to clarify that relationships do not always involve love, sex, or romance. We are in a relationship individually with each of our family members, with our best friends and our worst enemies, and with our bosses and coworkers. American culture puts a huge emphasis on love and sex, but relationships exist of all kinds. We talk about wars between nations but rarely about wars within families or workplaces. The interplay between Venus (receiving) and Mars (giving) shows us how our relationships are flowing – even international ones between nations. Together, they give us an idea of how easy it will be to get along.

Oppositions are fidgety and difficult to read, even for the most seasoned astrologer. Sun Sign opposites can differ in specific ways but are also quite similar and desperately need each other. The conflicts that will arise during this time CAN be resolved, but it calls for somebody to step down and let the other by. Neither planet looks well poised to do so, which is generally unfortunate. We still get free choice, though; that’s the beauty of how the above is reflected below: the planets dictate that there will be conflict, but WE still get to choose what we do when it happens.

What is worth fighting for? Is it worth standing up to the one you love the most? Is it worth standing up to your family? Is it worth standing up to the world?

Many of us have to grapple with this right now, and I think many people will say resoundingly, “Yes.” I’m not here to give you the correct answers because my trials and choices will differ infinitely from yours.

What I am here to say is that there is a reason (in the skies and our lives) why people are going to choose Fight this holiday season, and we should think about both how we are making those choices for ourselves AND how we should respond when someone decides they want to fight with us. The big flex all month will be to pick your fights, but we all know that will be easier said than done.

I’m choosing to discuss conflict in the Venus section for a reason. Diplomacy plays as important a part in conflicts as Action, though culturally, we often downplay this. Venus in Aquarius can be talked into looking back at the rest of us earth landers, but only if you speak to her higher nature and propose something new and innovative. Venus in Aquarius doesn’t have time for momentary peace; it wants the whole package or nothing at all. The craziest idea might be the one that is the solution all month long.

Jupiter and Saturn

Our two intermediate planets, Jupiter and Saturn, play a major role in dictating the pace of our lives. Jupiter, the planet of Luck and Expansion, quickens everything it touches, while Saturn, the planet of Time and Consequence, slows or halts. We need both of these forces in our lives. They are moving in and out of squares for the next year.

The first square happens on 12/24 with Jupiter in Gemini and Saturn in Pisces. Neither planet is at its strongest here, but Saturn probably wins out due to Jupiter being in its exile. Expect things to be slow. But that’s also indicated by our Mars retrograde, so let’s say it’s extra slow. This first square includes Mercury in Sagittarius square to Saturn and opposed to Jupiter. This is a harsh mutable t-square, which will have everyone scrambling but few finding solid ground.

You may notice this repeating cycle of three squares (one in December and two next year). If it sounds awfully like a retrograde cycle, that’s because it is. This is happening because Jupiter (being the faster-moving sign) has caught back up to Saturn (by degree) and is now going to retrograde forward and back again thrice across Saturn’s path. Jupiter and Saturn will both change signs in 2025 in synch with one another – this will put a lot of stress on the line between Gemini-Cancer (for Jupiter) and Pisces-Aries (for Saturn). We will be in this push/pull cycle for a while; this is just the first pass.

Looking Forward

Hello January! Hello 2025!

The big deals in January will be our Mars retrograde and the changing of the guard as our lunar nodes slide onto the Pisces-Virgo axis. The big deal for the year is that Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune all change signs in four months. As we move into each new sign in 2025 with our Sun, Mercury, and Venus, we are forced to confront all of our outer planets in unison. We are on the event horizon now.

The Details

12/1 – New moon 09° Sagittarius 12/2 – retrograde Mercury in Sagittarius trine Chiron in Aries, Venus in Capricorn trine retrograde Uranus in Taurus 12/4 – Sun in Sagittarius square Saturn in Pisces, retrograde Mercury in Sagittarius opposed retrograde Jupiter in Gemini, Venus in Capricorn sextile retrograde Neptune in Pisces 12/5 – Sun conjunct retrograde Mercury 14° Sagittarius 12/6 – retrograde Mercury in Sagittarius square Saturn in Pisces, Mars retrogrades 06° Leo 12/7 – Sun in Sagittarius opposed retrograde Jupiter in Gemini, Venus enters Aquarius, Venus conjunct Pluto 00° Aquarius, Neptune stations direct 27° Pisces 12/9 – Venus in Aquarius sextile North Node in Aries 12/10 – Sun in Sagittarius trine Chiron in Aries 12/12 – Venus in Aquarius opposed retrograde Mars in Leo 12/13 – Retrograde Mercury in Sagittarius sextile Venus in Aquarius 12/15 – Full moon 23° Gemini, Mercury stations direct 06° Sagittarius 12/18 – Sun in Sagittarius square Neptune in Pisces 12/19 – Venus in Aquarius trine retrograde Jupiter in Gemini 12/21 – Sun enters Capricorn 12/23 – Sun in Capricorn square the lunar nodes, Venus in Aquarius sextile Chiron in Aries 12/24 – Retrograde Jupiter in Gemini square Saturn in Pisces 12/26 – Mercury in Sagittarius opposed retrograde Jupiter in Gemini 12/27 – Mercury in Sagittarius square Saturn in Pisces 12/28 – Venus in Aquarius square retrograde Uranus in Taurus 12/30 – New moon 09° Capricorn 12/31 – Mercury in Sagittarius trine Chiron in Aries

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[deceptive-daydreams]

Eddie letting you release every pent up emotion when you’re with him and he notices you’re visibly just overwhelmed as fuck because life is kicking your ass, I’m talking letting you sob into his shirt, snot and everything, squeezing his hands, encouraging you to throw shit at the wall if you need to, anything to help you release some of the tension that’s built up within you over the past few weeks and then he holds you after while you’re still crying but exhausted so he just lets you sit for as long as you need in his arms while he rubs your back and hides you in his chest away from all the bad and scary things 🥲

[girlivealwaysbean]

just found out that instead of my mom my fucking shitass dad is coming home FOR A WEEK

[oscargender]

to knowis to be loved and to be known is to b eloved. I want transgender friends who will know me and love me in a way that cis people usually do not

[peapod20001]

I wonder how many times I’ve googled whether I’m having a panic attack or an anxiety attack...

[foone]

I see a lot of people joking about the adhd thing of "I have a appointment/phone call at 3pm, guess I won't do anything all day!"

But no one seems to make the connection that it's a time blindness thing. One of the symptoms of ADHD is not having a good and accurate sense of time. And not doing stuff prior to an event with a hard deadline is an obvious coping mechanism for that.

Can I go to the store? It's 10am and the appointment is at 3pm. How long does going to the store take? An hour? Three hours? Five hours? I DON'T KNOW!

I get anxious trying to do things before appointments because I'm aware that I don't know how long those things take, and that if I think I do, I may be very wrong. Too often I've been like "hey I can walk to the corner store and grab a drink, that'll take like 15 minutes!" and then an hour later I get back and whoops my rice has burnt.

Plus there's also the fact that ADHD people know that motivation and focus is a two-edged sword.

Like, let's say you decide to play a video game. You've got time, you can pause/save whenever, so this should be a perfect fit to make good use of your waiting-time. So you start playing and WHOOPS you get really focused for some reason today (because people with ADHD do not get to pick when their brain decides to focus) and the next time you look at the clock it's 2:49 and you haven't showered or dressed and the appointment is 30 minutes away. Fuck. (you could have set an alarm, but now you're asking people with the forgetting-things-and-time-ignoring condition to remember it set alarms)

And with motivation, it can be almost worse. Instead of playing a game, you so something useful or creative. You clean your room or fix your plumbing or write a story or draw a picture. And suddenly it's great. Your brain is firing on all cylinders. You've got all the motivation you can ask for, and you are FLYING. the ideas are brilliant, your hands are nimble, you're getting stuff done you've been putting off for weeks or months. And then the alarm goes off. Time to go to your appointment. Fuck.

You drive there, your brain still full of ideas and plans. But by the time you get back, the motivation is gone. You may still have the ideas but you don't have the drive to write them down. You can't force yourself to do it. Your sink is still in pieces. Your room is half-cleaned, and you have to shove all the sorted clothes into one big bin just so you have somewhere to sleep. You've left things half finished again, in a cycle that has been repeating your whole fucking life. It seems sometimes that nothing ever gets finished.

So next time you don't even start. There's not time. You've been burnt too many times. Why add another half-completed project to your pile of shame?

My point is that people seem to be going "lol I can't do anything all day if I have an appointment at 3pm" like this is a quirky "oh I'm so scatterbrained!" weirdness they alone have, and not a major complication of a disabling mental illness.

(and that's not even getting into the secondary effects. If you know that having an appointment ruins your whole damn day, you're going to avoid them. Even when it's things like "going to that party" or "meeting your friends for a drink/game" or "going to a movie with that cute girl from your math class". Things you should enjoy. Things that'd help you be social. Things that make you feel human.)

[targaryen-dynasty]

SET ME ALIGHT AGAIN.

Cregan Stark x female!Targaryen!Reader (Part 2 here)

"It was on request of your younger brother's small council that Lord Cregan Stark agreed to take you to the North with him to prevent you from succumbing to grief like your aunt did. And now it's at his hands that the haze in your eyes is replaced by an emotion you haven't felt in so long, an emotion he’s giving back to you. And you let it flood you."

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MDNI; p in v, oral (fem receiving), angst (?), breeding kink, size kink, size difference, romantic fucking in front of the fireplace, afab reader, post dance of the dragons

WORDS: 4.8 K

NOTES: I dedicate this to @sylasthegrim. You're not only one of the few people I really grew fond of in the short time we truly got to know each other, but since both our minds basically came down to the same idea, this is for you! Thanks for beta reading this. 💕

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

You’ve been in Winterfell for a moon’s turn by now, and have quickly noticed that the ancestral castle possesses a beauty and calmness the Red Keep can be jealous of. But even that isn’t enough to make you feel at home – as if you could ever call a place your home again. Not after you’ve witnessed almost everyone in your family, no matter whether you liked them or not, perish at the hands of each other. 

It was on request of your younger brother, now dubbed King Aegon the third, or rather of his small council that Lord Cregan Stark agreed to take you to the North with him to prevent you from succumbing to grief like your aunt did. And while you’re grateful for the chance to flee the one place that has caused you more hurt than good, riding in a carriage up to the far North like a commoner wasn’t exactly pleasant. 

But how else should you have gotten there when your precious mount died along its kind as the common people stormed the Dragonpit?

For the past month, you’ve very rarely seen the sun – or anyone else than your maids. 

Your days are spent in your chambers, not leaving the safety of the Guest House as you often try to find the sleep you can’t seem to get at night. And during the night, when the Hour of the Owl strikes and no light other than that of the moon reaches Winterfell, one often finds you wandering the quiet halls of the castle. Sometimes one even spots you outside in the Godswood, regardless of the low temperatures that make the three pools fed by an underground hot spring look even more inviting. 

But warmth and comfort are never what you’re after. 

You feel incredibly daring tonight, sitting beneath the ancient weirwood tree on one of its roots. Although there is a thick fur coat draped around your frame, the thin nightgown beneath does not allow you to be kept as warm as one usually desires, your bare feet hidden inside of the coat not a big help either. 

Tiptoeing barefoot through the snow was the hardest part, but it was worth it as it gave you exactly what your body longs for. 

You’re far too absorbed by the reflection of the moon dancing on the pool of black water beneath the tree, and the peaceful allure of the snow-covered night that you don’t notice you’re not alone anymore.  

“Princess?” a husky voice rings out from the shadows, one you’d even recognize in a room full of loud and drunken men. 

Almost as if he doesn’t want to startle you, the tall frame of the Lord of Winterfell approaches you without any sudden moves, becoming more visible with the moonlight shining down on him. “What are you doing out here this late?”

Only when he’s stopping not far away from you do you avert your eyes from him to the water again. “I could ask you the same, Lord Stark,” you reply softly. 

A chuckle rumbles in his chest at your remark, and you can’t help the tint of heat hearing it brings to your cheeks. “Indeed you could,” he says. “I have not slept well, and the night has a peaceful allure. But you should not be out in the open without any guards, especially not this late at night.”

You drag your index finger through the snow at your side, drawing a mindless pattern in the dark as you do not pay any mind to his words. “And why is that, Lord Stark?” you ask, a certain snarkiness to your tone. “There is nothing worse that could happen to me than what I have already endured.”

Cregan sighs, and even in the dim light you can make out that he’s scratching his stubble covered chin. “And yet, should something else happen to you, I would not like myself for neglecting you and not protecting you just as I have sworn to the king,” he explains. “Besides, there is a cold chill in the air that I can not believe you are not feeling right now.”

“Perhaps that is the answer you’ve been looking for, my lord,” you mumble. “Perhaps I came here to feel something.”

The Wolf of the North doesn’t immediately answer you. Instead, there lingers a pause between you. But it’s not uncomfortable or feels as though it doesn't pass, no, you find yourself to actually enjoy his company. 

His next words, however, even surprise you as you didn’t think he was capable of it. “Feeling the cold of the snow has its way to make one feel alive, that much is true,” he agrees, and then looks up to the dark sky. “You wish to feel something else than the pain of the absence of the people you’ve lost in this war, I understand… I think.”

His words make the feeling of emptiness, the hollowing ache of loss just worse, while at the same time, he seems to know the feeling of craving pain when you’re just so used to it. 

“This cold bite, the chill that lingers on the skin — no one should want to feel it, Princess. It makes even my bones shake, do you know that? Surely you must be shivering, and we should be getting you inside. I should be getting you inside.”

You know he‘s right. While his words are blunt in nature, they are very much that of truth. You shouldn’t be out here, nor should you want to be out here. There‘s nothing to enjoy about this cold chill and the snow, not when you‘re as sparsely dressed as you are. You‘re not yet used to the chill of Winterfell, of the North. 

Cregan offers you his hand, but you‘re still hesitant to take it. Albeit you reach out, your significantly smaller hand hovers over his, not yet grabbing it. “You‘re not exactly wearing proper attire to be out in this wretched cold for very long,“ he remarks. “Let me help you get up, your feet must be in agony by now.“

“And what if I don‘t want to?“

“Then I will still get you up.“ There is a tinge of amusement in his voice now, seeing this little bit of rebelliousness from you, your strength of mind. Even if he doesn’t exactly approve of it. “I shall simply pick you up myself, throw you over my shoulder, and carry you inside to your chambers, even though I‘d get you quite angry and don‘t imagine you want me to do just that.“

You don’t believe he actually has the gumption to do something like that at first, although you know he’s able to muster a decent amount of strength that would easily allow him to lift you up. But then, you wonder if he would truly do it if challenged. “Try that, if you dare, my lord.”

He lets out a snort of amusement, enjoying the teasing that slowly shapes between you two. It still is a challenge, and as a man of his station, he could never let words like this go unspoken. “Oh, I dare, Princess.” 

Putting forth his arm, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and easily pulls you forwards onto your feet without applying too much pressure. You’re certainly caught off guard by his actual willingness to lift you up, and a squeal escapes your lips before you’re tossed on his strong shoulder as if you are some silly, helpless girl. 

Cregan carries you through the Godswood and towards the Guest House, though you don’t resist too much as you’re hanging there over his shoulder – a part of you is grateful you don’t have to walk through the snow with your bare feet once more. 

“Lord Stark, put me down at once!” you demand with a little twinge of laughter in your voice. You feel so light, much lighter than you imagine he’s used to lifting up, almost as if it’s taken all of the pressure off your shoulders. 

But when there doesn’t come an answer from him, you grow slightly frustrated. “What if anyone sees, you madman!” you remark, embarrassment warming your cheeks. 

“Madman? That’s rich coming from the woman who was willing to freeze to death in the snow,” he says jokingly, approaching the large doors. “Who do you think could see us at this hour, princess? The rats? And what if they do? What if someone sees me carrying the poor princess, who had the gall to get out of her bed after midnight and wander the Godswood while in her nightgown?” Although there is amusement in his voice, you also notice the faintest hint of flirtation laced within. “Will they judge me for carrying her, or would they judge her for her imprudent midnight excursion?”

You stay silent thrown over his shoulder, not sure how to reply. You thought you had a good comeback, but it seems Cregan is one step ahead of you. The flirtatious teasing you’ve heard catches you off guard, not expecting to hear it from him at all. It makes your cheeks flush with even more embarrassment when you notice that he’s actually right. But you don’t want to admit the truth in what he’s said. 

“You mock me, but you shall see there would be much scandal if someone were to see this,” you retort, trying to keep calm as you’re now a little bit flustered by these sudden developments. “Besides,” you say, trying to remain unbothered and nonchalant, “who says I won’t tell a tale of you being the imprudent one?”

“Ah, you little rascal,” Cregan replies with a chuckle, giving your thigh a tight squeeze. “I see you’d find a way to turn the tides and have it end up with me being the bad guy, taking my chances on a vulnerable woman in the guise of protecting her.”

You’re clearly enjoying the teasing a tad too much, enjoying these quick and witty back-to-backs with him, taking your mind off of your grief. Drawing in a deep breath, you hold onto Cregan’s thick coat. “What would you have been protecting me from, Lord Stark?” you ask with feigned innocence. “Were the trees too menacing that you just had to sweep me off my feet to carry me away from their clutches?”

“No, I am afraid it was not the trees that had me worried, Princess,” Cregan replies as he brings you further into the Guest House, easily opening the door to the sleeping quarters with one hand. “The cold was the greater menace, and it had you in its grasp.”

Your words die in your throat when he puts you down on your bed, the soft furs very welcomed beneath your cold feet. You look up at him with wide eyes and a heaving chest as he towers over your significantly smaller frame, and you wait for him to make the next move. 

There’s a moment of silence between you, obviously he’s considering his next words. 

And boy do they disappoint you. “I shall make sure a fire is lit for you to warm yourself, princess,” he says, turning around to approach the hearth on the other side of the room. 

Cregan crouches down to build and start a small fire in the hearth that should last the night, not wanting you to stay too cold. But you wouldn’t be a thoroughbred dragon if it didn’t mean for you to take any risks. And so you get onto your cold feet, the coat still draped around your shoulders sliding down to the ground. 

Feeling a bit too exposed too quickly, you grab one of the thick fur blankets laying on your bed instead and wrap it around your frame, before you tiptoe towards the large wolf kneeling in front of the fireplace. 

“I have something different in mind,” you speak softly. Cregan, startled by your words and your sudden approach, turns around and faces you as he rises to his feet. You reach and bury your hands in the collar of his coat, the blanket falling to the ground in the process, and when you use your grip to pull him close, you find that he does not shy away in the least – if anything, he follows the tug to connect your lips in a heated kiss. 

He brings his large hands to your waist with ease, and presses his body against yours. The wolf feels like he’s drowning in you, in your lips, your warmth, your presence and scent. Wanting to lose himself in the moment, in you, his hands wander lower to your hips. 

“I did not expect you to do this tonight,” he breathes against your lips, breaking the silence. 

“And I did not expect some things from you tonight either,” you reply, breathlessly, voice breaking with every breath you take. “Is that a bad thing?”

His voice is low and smooth as he speaks, shaking his head. “Quite the contrary.” There is a flirtatious smile on his lips, and a playfulness you haven’t seen before in his gray eyes. It’s as if that small spark between you has quickly evolved into an inferno that now burns bright in the both of you. 

It’s a fierce and burning kiss when your lips connect once more, fueled by the fires coursing through your veins. You release a soft whimper with his large paws trailing over your sides, feeling the fabric of your nightgown. 

“If we continue this, I won’t be able to stop myself,” he rasps.

You tilt your head back to look at him, a cheeky grin on your lips. “Perhaps I do not want you to.”

Cregan’s eyebrows raise at your reply, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist once more. He can’t help but feel a jolt of arousal run down his back, which prompts him to release a low chuckle. “Well, if you wish for it that much…” he whispers in response, before pulling you back toward him, kissing you passionately. 

A breathless chuckle slips past your lips as you pull back from him, licking your kiss swollen lips. “But there are a few things we need to get you out of first,” you tease, tugging at the thick, furry coat that’s draped over his broad shoulders. 

“Are you this eager to have your hands over all of me?” he replies with a flirtatious smirk, but still unclips the coat and lets it fall to the ground. He doesn’t mind you seeming quite intent to get him out of his armor, allowing you to fumble with the clasps and buckles, and eventually helps you remove the heavy bits until he’s left wearing nothing but his breeches. But even those are quickly unlaced by you, left to be a puddle around his feet. 

“My my, do you not feel a little too hot still, Lord Stark?” you tease, letting your fingers wander over his exposed stomach. You can’t help but feel warmth creeping onto your cheeks as you see him in such little clothing, so exposed. He’s a muscular man, tall and large, and the sight of his bare skin with the dark of hair on his chest and a trail of it running below his undergarments is a welcoming one. 

Through the linen you see that he’s already hard and begging, waiting for you to take things further. Truly a shame you seem to relish in the teasing. 

Goosebumps prickle on his skin in the wake of your finger, making you smile. You drag your finger along the waistband of his undergarments, hooking it beneath to tug on it. He knows what you desire, and he’s not ashamed to give you just that. “I do not see you so eager to remove your own clothes, Princess,” he teases, undoing the laces in the front for his undergarments to join his breeches. “It is hardly fair you want to see all of me, yet I am not allowed to do the same.”

You take in a sharp breath at the sight of his hard cock, standing to full attention. It has you licking your lips. Batting your eyelashes at him, you’re quick to pull your nightgown over your head, a smirk on your lips. A flimsy piece of linen conceals what lies between your legs, but it’s still enough for him to all but devour your almost bare frame. 

“There,” you whisper, “now we are on equal grounds.”

Cregan takes a moment to look over you, licking his lips at the sight of your breasts fully exposed mto him. He knows you’re no maiden who’s completely untouched, you wouldn’t be as confident if you were, but it doesn’t stop him from appreciating the sight in front of him. 

“Equal grounds, truly?” he asks you, taking a step toward you. One arm snakes around your waist, pulling you against him, as his other hand fists the linen of your smallclothes. “I think you still have an advantage over me, Princess. Because I have yet to see what lies beneath your undergarments.”

Your palms rest flatly against his chest, and you press a chaste kiss to his skin. “I will not stop you, Lord Stark,” you whisper, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. 

“Then let’s make these ‘equal grounds’ a little bit more equal, hm?” Cregan whispers as well. He sinks to his knees with his mouth trailing a path down your body, licking and kissing over your skin until he reaches your navel. His large hands trail over your sides and thighs on his way down, the movement and sight making your breath hitch in your throat. 

A shudder ripples through your body as he tugs your smallclothes down your legs, and while you watch him with your hands buried in his dark curls, his eyes are all but focused on what’s between your legs. 

He drapes one of your legs over his broad shoulder, his dark blown eyes darting up to meet yours, and before you can make any teasing remark, his mouth is on you. A gasp catches in your throat. “Cregan, please,” you whimper, forgetting all courtesies the moment his tongue drags through your slit. There’s no softness, no gentleness in the way he all but devours your cunt, the previous teasing having made his patience run thin. 

Your head tips back in pleasure as his tongue alternates between sliding into you and swirling around your pearl, noticing both options have you grind your hips against his face. The tip of his nose rubs so perfectly against your pearl when his mouth pays attention to your entrance, and Cregan’s fingers dig into your flesh with your body tensing up already, keeping you steady. 

The Wolf of the North growls against your cunt as if he’s truly turned into one, devouring you with all he’s got, the sheer pleasure brought by his tongue and lips taking over you. 

As you look down at him again, you find him already staring up at you, watching you carefully as you slowly but surely unravel on his tongue. It’s intense, but you’re captivated enough not to break eye contact. 

“Gods, yes, I–” you whimper, and fall apart all over his tongue with a shudder. If it wasn’t for Cregan’s paws on your body, you would have lost balance by now, especially with the way he seemed to work his tongue in and out of you faster just in rhythm to his nose rubbing your pearl. 

He pulls away from you slowly as your peak subsides, and with his beard and lips glistening with the remnants of your arousal, how could you not pounce on him right then and there?

He supports his body with one arm placed on the ground and stretches his legs as you push yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his strong neck. The taste of yourself on his tongue makes you moan against his lips before you deepen the kiss. 

Cregan’s hard cock is nestled between your bodies, and you can’t resist wrapping your hand around it, stroking him once, twice, before you shift your hips and slowly sink down on him. 

Muscular arms completely wrap around your waist, making you very well aware of the size difference between the two of you. You’re significantly smaller than him, and relish in the feeling of being safe and protected with him around. You two haven’t been too close upon your arrival in the North, but it seems that there has been a hidden attraction lingering for quite some time. 

You know your hips would sooner or later become sore from pumping him with your core, hence you stick to rocking your hips back and forth with his cock stuffed deep inside you. It’s intimate and slow, but with the coarse hairs around the base of his cock dragging over your pearl with each swivel of your hips, you’re still racing for completion. 

While he mouths along your jaw and the curve of your throat, one of his hands comes up to cup your breast. Rolling the perky bud between his index finger and thumb, the slight sting works wonders to amplify the pleasure coursing through your veins. 

“By the Seven,” you whimper, grinding your hips against him with more determination. 

There comes a sharp hiss in return from him, barely audible between the open mouthed kisses he presses to your collar bones. You’re clawing at his shoulders and neck by now, scratching it despite the sensuality of your movements, and it feels as though you’re even drawing blood. But he doesn’t care about that – he rather enjoys having a woman that doesn’t hold back. 

Trailing his lips up to your throat, he nudges your chin with his nose, prompting you to tip your head back. “It’s not them you need to pray to right now, Princess,” Cregan rasps, a clear strain to his voice. “But perhaps I should take that as a compliment, hm?”

His words cause you to chuckle, and you’re grateful that he’s quickly distracted by kissing your throat again, because otherwise he might have noticed the heat his words bring to your cheeks. “If that is…” you trail off panting, burying your hand in his curls to tug his head back, forcing him to look up at you. The sight of his dark blown eyes hungrily gazing at you sends a shiver down your spine. You feel desired. “If that is a compliment, then I shall have to say it much more often.”

You’re not sure if it’s the fact you state wanting to compliment him more often, or if he’s just not used to having an appreciative lover in general, but your words seem to flip a switch inside of him. You quickly find yourself lowered on the fur blankets, warming your back while the flames heat up your skin and Cregan your blood. 

Nestled between your legs, he’s growing more determined now, the sensual rocking of your hips clearly not enough for him, but you don’t mind it. As much as you enjoy being in control, setting the tone, you also revel in following the lead. 

He’s propped up on one elbow, supporting himself as he thrusts into you, rolling his hips that make his cock drag so expertly against the sweet spot inside of you. 

With one hand, you hold onto his broad shoulder, digging your nails into his skin, while the other gropes at his chest, teasing his bud just like he’s done with yours before. The feeling of his coarse hairs beneath your fingers feels somewhat strange at first, for Aemond hasn’t had as much chest hair as Cregan does, but it’s also comforting. 

The familiar coil in the pit of your belly tightens slowly with his hips snapping into yours over and over again, split open by his hard cock.  

“Will you fill me up, my lord?” you moan breathily, arching your back with your breasts pressing against his sturdy frame. 

Cregan releases a choked groan at the question, and for a moment you can feel his hips stutter. You briefly wonder if you’ve pushed your luck too far, especially with him not replying immediately, until his raspy voice cuts through the heavy pants and moans. 

“Only if you let me take you to wife, Princess.” 

You inevitably clench down around him as a small, hiccuped gasp catches in your throat, resulting in Cregan drawing in a sharp breath. The haze in your eyes is replaced by an emotion you haven't felt in so long, an emotion he’s now giving back to you. And you let it flood you. 

Your hand comes from his chest to his biceps, holding onto it as you gather your thoughts. His hips haven’t slowed down one bit, and he’s truly expecting you to answer as if he wasn’t repeatedly impaling you on his cock right now. 

Staring up at him with wide eyes, your voice isn’t any louder than a whisper. “It would be foolish of me to turn this offer down,” you reply.

An impish smirk dances along Cregan’s features. “Is that meant to be a yes?”

“Y-Yes, it is, “ you whimper beneath him, arching your back once more. 

The warmth of his body, his weight and scent cloud your every being, and his thrusts are determined and harsh enough to render you speechless, your mind and body completely claimed by him. 

His hand snakes between your bodies, aiming for your sensitive pearl. Though the coarse hair around his cock has granted you at least a bit of friction, it’s not enough to bring you to your peak. His thumb circles over the little bud, fully coated with your arousal, and the thread in your belly is close to snapping. 

“Then I just might,” he grunts in return. 

Your body jerks at the sudden touch, but his muscular frame between your legs is enough to keep you pinned to the ground. “I need you… Cregan,” you whimper, bringing a hand behind his head to pull him down for a heated kiss. Your lips hardly part to release whimpers and moans, swallowing each other’s sounds of pleasure without any shame. “Let me give you a spare.”

It appears that your words give him a new-found vigor that leaves you gasping, the pace of his hips increasing. As you start to roll your hips against his thumb, you not only create some friction that feeds your pleasure but his as well. It’s not long after that your peak washes over you with a soft gasp, walls clenching around him like a vice. 

With your small frame trembling between his strong arms, Cregan releases a strained grunt, his own peak being milked out of him by your cunt fluttering around his cock. He keeps on dragging his thumb over your sensitive pearl, prolonging your peak and the pleasure that comes with it.

You stare up at him with wide eyes as you’re milking him for every drop, because there’s something so vulnerable in this wolf of a man, towering over you with his skin glistening with sweat, so desperate to fill you with his seed and breed you. 

The last jolts of his peak force him to languidly rut his hips into yours, desperately chasing the feeling of bliss that courses through your veins. His chest heaves with every heavy breath he takes, and the dark curls are damp and fall into his face. 

Only as Cregan is certain there’s not one drop of his seed left inside of him does he slowly stop his ministrations, and the hand that has toyed with your bud seizes your hips, stilling them.

His erratic breaths fans over your sweaty skin with his lips pressing to your temple. The feeling of being whole with him doesn’t leave you, not when his weight pins you down and keeps you grounded, easing your tumbled mind.  

“I shall welcome the arrival of any child you bear me,” Cregan says, inevitably breaking the silence. 

A smile spreads across your lips as you wrap your legs around his hips, and your arms around his neck. “Be careful what you wish for. My children will certainly be just as stubborn as me.”

His heart is practically pounding against his ribs, and he can feel himself on the verge of being lost by your touch alone again. You make him go wild and feral, your bold and flirtatious nature bringing out another side to him that’s completely unexpected. And yet it feels so right.  

The teasing banter brings a smile to his lips and a light to his gray eyes, your wit and humor shining through. “Let them be stubborn, then,” he chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “They only need to be half as feisty as you, and I shall be the happiest man in Winterfell.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can’t stop thinking the tall horror men of homicipher. I’m like 5ft something, so I know damn well these men tower over me…am I discovering something? Maybe 👀👀👀but I know I ain’t alone. TRUE STORY: Also there was this guy that came into my place of work moths ago with his family and he was TALL, bending down to get through the doorframe TALL but he was lovely.

So how do I imagine these boy would react if they see that you’re clearly ogling them for how tall they were.

Mr crawling

Given the fact that you’ve only seen him stand once, it was enough to have your jaw dropping to the floor. He was taller than the fucking doorway that he had to manoeuvre himself under it, and suddenly you’ve forgotten that you were being kidnapped by Mr Stitch, too intrigued by his height and now understanding why he had lied to you about his ability to stand.

He thought he would scare you but in fact made you feel the complete opposite, you loved how tall he was and you couldn’t get it out of your head, even when he’s back on his hands and knees to comfort you. The illusion had worn off and now you wanted to see him tall all the time, but you didn’t want to pressure him into doing so unless he felt comfortable.

‘You’re tall, really tall.’ You said in awe as Mr crawling coddled you against his chest.

‘Scared?’ He asked as though he was fearing your answer, which broke your heart as you nuzzled your face against his shoulder in an attempt of comfort.

‘No, handsome.’ You replied as Mr Crawling made chirps and purrs of happiness as he held you closer to him.

While he’s still not fond on standing to his full height, the fear of his intimating stature would chase you away one day embedded in his heavily, he would find some comfort in knowing that you loved his tall stature and love you even more for not forcing him to do something he clearly was uncomfortable with; preferring to shower him in kisses and remind him that whether he’s standing or on his hands and knees you loved him regardless.

Mr silvair

The man can feel your eyes on his back constantly. He knows he’s taller than most but the way you looked and admired his full height like you wouldn’t be able to anymore.

He wonders whether this was something only you seemed to have or whether other humans also felt possessed by the need to gawk at people above a certain height. Or was it just you that has this particular expression upon seeing his tall stature in general.

He would take notes of how his height seemingly did something to you that then triggered a chemical reaction within your brain to make you find his height appealing and possibly a requirement in finding your perfect romantic partner.

Or more specifically people of similar height to Mr Silvair himself or anyone close enough to his height to qualify. Mr Silvair soon deduced that you liked the domineering presence of someone much bigger than you, someone who’s able to drag you wherever as though you were nothing but weightless to them, almost like a ragdoll.

He’d soon find that this is in most cases considered a kink amongst you humans who found the height difference between partner rather erotic.

Mr Scarletella

Finds your content ogling of him flattering and thinks that it means that you were finally, finally reciprocating his obsession with you for your own obsession with him.

He’s another one who takes note of how you like how tall he is in comparison to you, always looking at him whenever he was entering the room, eyes widening when you see him having to bed down to get through the doorway, and your eyes never leave him even as he’s walking towards you; seemingly getting taller with each step until he’s in front of you and you’re looking at him in awe and hitched breath.

He’s obsessed with your expression each and every time and uses his height to his advantage. Such as doing things like putting his hand above your head and on the wall, looking down at you with those obsessive eyes of his as his smile seemed to widen upon hearing your breath hitch and eyes widen once more.

His height continued to elicit a reaction out of you that Mr Scarletella loved and adored and wanted to see more of in the future.

Mr Hood

Finds your constant ogling of his height interesting.

He didn’t know why you were so surprised he’s this tall, he’s been with you this entire time and it was only recently did your mind seemed to inform you of your Incredibly stark height difference, and bam! Suddenly he’s the subject of your constant staring and ogling as though it would be the last thing you did.

It was humorous to say the least and will earn you some head pats and cheek caresses that has you leaning towards his comforting and gentle touches.

It wasn’t something that you hide from him as half of the time you didn’t realise you were doing it until Mr Hood pointed it out with curiosity, meanwhile your left flustered as your mind held certain thoughts towards his legs, thighs and large hands.

Poor Mr Hood, he understood to some extent but after a certain point it’s better to explain to him that you find his height rather appealing to you in more ways than one.

[rhosgobelbun]

steve's been knocking on doors trying to find eddie. he would be annoyed that all he's found are couples and groups in states of undress but this is some random house party, so it's what steve expects.

plus he's too relieved that he hasn't walked in on eddie being a part of any of it.

steve knows it's gross to feel this way. he trusts eddie 100%. it's not right to let past relationship problems cloud his judgement when it comes to what he has with eddie - who hasn't given him any reason to doubt.

but eddie is so new. been together for only 2 months now new.

and tommy was so old. childhood friend/fucked up situationship for 10 long years old. just ended for good a year and a half ago old.

so even though he knows, hopes, prays, that it's ridiculous to compare the two together, steve still checks the bathroom and makes sure the man on his knees in front of some blonde cheerleader isn't his boyfriend.

and then promptly ducks down to avoid a brush the blonde cheerleader throws at him.

'sorry!' steve apologizes. he hurries to slam the door closed and makes his way to the very last room at the end of the hallway.

maybe he left? eddie didn't want to serve here anyway, rich druggie clientele be damned. so even though they came together, maybe eddie had an emergency and-

steve cuts that thought off because well. he found eddie.

'baby!!' his boyfriend exclaims, alone, sitting on the floor in the middle of some random strangers room with a jar of peanut butter. he's got a spoon full of it half way up to his mouth and his eyes are red.

at least 4 brownies deep red.

the wave of relief he feels is actually pretty concerning, but steve will think about that some other time since he's too busy trying not to laugh at how ridiculous the long haird idiot looks.

'eddie, what are you doing?'

eddie looks guilty and for a split second steve thinks maybe he did walk in on eddie with someone else. (maybe he's waiting on them? maybe they already left?)

then eddie holds up the jar of peanut butter and says in the saddest voice, 'i needed it stevie, i don't remember how long it's been since i've had peanut butter. but i didn't think you'd find me! stay back! don't you come any closer!'

so this whole time while steve's been worried that eddie was off doing what tommy used to do to make him jealous, eddie just snuck off and hid away to eat peanut butter because steves' allergic.

starting to snicker, steve goes to sit across from him. 'i can be around it babe, im not gonna die.'

eddie rushes to close the jar, spoon shoved inside and all. he gives steve the stink eye. 'i know what peanut allergies can do to some people. i refuse to watch you blow up like a tomato.'

steve rolls his eyes and reaches out, acting like he's gonna touch the jar.

eddie yells. jumping to his feet, he scurries out of the closet like an over grown rat, 'steve harrington this is exactly why I was trying to eat this away from you!'

steves laughing now, giggling like a hyena. he can't believe he ever doubted this man.

later that night - after eddie has showered and brushed his teeth at least three times - when they're tucked away in eddies room under the covers, steve talks to him about his freak out. eddie apologizes for leaving him alone at a strangers party like that. he holds him close, gives steve a ton of kisses and promises to create a DND character that represents tommy.

'i'll turn him into a toad and kill him off in the most gruesome way imaginable. he'll be murdered to death, the kids will be traumatized. it'll be great. just you wait and see, my love.'

[ln4bub]

Public sex with oscar, other people getting off on it without them knowing or like them getting caught or maybe even oscar cuming in yn secretly in front of everyone, just anything voyeur with oscar please 😭

People would never ever guess the things that you and Oscar got up to behind closed doors, and even sometimes open ones. Oscar always got off on the idea of people seeing what he does to you, showing them how well he knows your body. They never question it when his driver’s room door is conveniently left unlocked whilst you celebrate his race, or when he licks his fingers after his hand comes up from below the table at dinner.

Sure they notice how affectionate he is, kissing your cheek and wrapping his arms around you from behind. But they’ve never heard the filthy words he whispers to you about how easy it would be to lift up your little skirt and stuff you full. Or so you thought.

Lando is the first to notice, given the amount of time he spends around you both. He notices the way Oscar often has a hand on you, leaning in too often to whisper something discreetly in your ear. It was at dinner that the truth first came together. Oscar’s hand had been under the table for a while, him eating his dessert with just one hand. You however, hadn’t eaten an ounce of yours. When Lando looked over to you he noticed how flushed you were, how your eyelids fluttered and how your lips seemed more tempting you than the dessert.

His eyes trailed over you, following them down to where Oscar’s hand seemingly rested on your legs. From his vantage point he could see the way Oscar’s arm was flexing rhythmically, his hand moving ever so slightly. His eyes widened as he realised what his shy teammate was doing. He won’t lie and say the thought didn’t have him straining against his jeans slightly, especially when he spotted how calmly Oscar was watching him. Oscar winked at his teammate, a finger coming to his lips in a shh-ing motion. Lando swallowed dryly, nodding as he continued to glance all night, especially when Oscar licked his fingers clean.

Oscar had continued his public acts, often finding himself two fingers deep inside you as you struggled to stay quiet. But he loved the busy clubs, when the drivers booked a VIP booth and no one paid any attention to anything other than alcohol. After the end of his first season in Formula One he was itching to celebrate, aching to get you alone. Once Oscar realised this was unlikely to happen, he’s formed a plan. A plan that culminated in this moment, you on his lap in a club, whilst some other occupants of the grid watched on.

Lando again had been the first to notice, your cheeks flushing at Oscar’s words. “Imagine being stuffed full in this club, nobody would know how deep I am inside you baby.” He cooed in your ear, large hands sliding up and down your exposed legs. It took George and Fernando arriving with more shots for you to agree, firm in your decision that everyone else was preoccupied.

You wriggled in Oscar’s lap, finding a comfortable position that didn’t look too suspicious. You hovered over him as he slipped his member out of his jeans. He bit back a groan as you slid yourself down, your warm walls encasing him. “So fucking tight aren’t you?” He whispered in your ear, “Such a slut for me.” You whimper lightly, burying your head in his neck as you start a subtle grinding motion against him.

“That’s it, use me where anyone could see you. Do you like that idea?” Oscar coos, “That anyone here could look over and see how needy and desperate you are.” His hands squeeze your hips as he rolls you against him, groaning in your ear at the feeling if you wrapped around him. Oscar’s grateful for the booming music, grateful that no-one can hear you moaning for him. You hear Oscar chuckle lightly from your position, looking up at him in confusion. “Don’t stop sweetheart, but we have a small audience.” Oscar tells you, your heart stopping at his words.

He smirks at the way your walls clench around him before beckoning the audience member over. You hear someone sit next to the pair of you behind the table, Oscar greeting him with a nod. “Took you a while to notice this time mate.” Oscar says, your ears barely picking up the scoff of your new admirer.

“Keeping her hidden that’s why Oscar, you know I like to see her face. See what you do to her.” Lando’s voice causes a flush to overtake you, your hips grinding harder against Oscar. He groans once more, head tilting back at the feeling of you on top of him. “Oh she’s getting you good this time isn’t she?” Lando laughs, licking his lips as he watches you move.

“You have no idea,” Oscar smirks, “She’s an angel.” He tells his teammate. You whine into his neck as Oscar’s hand wraps in your hair. He tugs lightly, your face emerging from its hiding spot. “I want you to look at Lando baby, he likes your pretty little face.” Oscar mutters, stroking your cheek gently as he grinds his cock into you. Once you make eye contact with Lando your pace increases, joined now by Oscar’s thumb on your clit. Your moan of his name catches the attention of another driver, the warmth of his body emanating from behind you.

“Roped Lando into your little kink too have you?”

The American accent of Logan fills your ears, a soft smile spreading over your lips at the familiar audience member. “It’s hot isn’t it Lando? The way she’d do anything for him. You should see them behind closed doors, absolutely filthy.” Logan muses, hand resting on your hip as he helps you move over his best friend.

“You really should come watch Lando, she loves the extra pair of eyes.” Oscar tells his teammate, “You think she’s dirty now? Wait ‘til you see her on all fours with my dick in her mouth. It’s art.” You can’t help but moan at his words, squirming at the way the three men discuss you. It’s when Lando smiles at the thought of watching you both in private, nodding at Oscar’s proposal, that you tumble over the edge.

Your legs quake and your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. Your walls clench around Oscar as he bites his lip, stifling the loud moan threatening to spill out. You attempt to hide your face once more but Lando holds your head still, studying your face as you cum for his teammate. Oscar grinds into you deeper, the rhythmic clenching driving him to his own orgasm. He shoots his load inside you, whimpering in sensitivity as Logan continues to move your hips.

The pair of you come down with heavy breaths and flushed cheeks, before eventually leaving the club. Trailed by Logan and Lando for a night you’ll never forget.

[brokenmenswhore]

i need more of that dont look seriesss i need sirius and reader to go against remus’ rules or summmm please and thank you if u choose to do so

whatever the people want, i shall give them 🙇‍♀️

don’t look | remus & sirius

part 2

pairings: remus lupin x fem!reader, sirius black x fem!reader

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), language

part 1

────── ☾ ──────

Sirius opened his mouth to say something as Remus approached, but Remus put a hand up to cut him off.

“Nope, don’t even, I’m still mad at you,” Remus stated, walking past Sirius.

“Oh come on!” Sirius called to him, “look, I said I was sorry.”

“I know, but I’m still mad,” he called back, “and jealous, I guess.”

Sirius shrugged, “well maybe you should stop eating out your hot girlfriend in a communal space, Moons, what did you expect?”

Remus stopped in his tracks. He turned around and approached Sirius, stopping only a few feet away from him.

“You know you aren’t supposed to look at her like that.”

“Jeez, Moony, you aren’t my dad.”

Sirius’s nonchalance bothered Remus. Remus was hot-headed, and it was nearly the full moon, which meant his emotions were heightened even more than usual.

It also meant he was hornier than usual.

He marched to your dorm, swinging the door open, despite the two other girls sat on the floor, textbooks sprawled across their laps as you all studied together. “I need you.”

Your eyes shot up at him, the other girls scanning his figure up and down. “Rem, I’m studying,” you told him, as if he couldn’t see you doing just that.

“Please, I just need to borrow you for a minute.” Remus tried not to sound desperate, but he most certainly did. He didn’t care if the girls knew he wanted to borrow you to fuck you senseless, he only cared that he remained level-headed until he was alone with you.

You gave a smile to the other girls, closing your textbook and placing it on the floor before standing up and following Remus to his dormitory. He anticipated that it would be empty, but instead he found Sirius, cross-legged on his bed, a book in his lap.

Remus contemplated his options. Ever since Sirius’s infraction, he had avoided being with you in front of him, worried Sirius would try something again. However, today, he was angry, and he wanted to piss off Sirius by asserting his authority and dominance over you.

He pushed you onto the mattress, immediately hiking up your skirt and pulling down your underwear.

“Remus!” you squealed, taken aback by his haste.

He shushed you, saying, “need you bad.”

“Remmy, it’s not even a full moon tonight, you can usually wait until later in the da-“

Remus cut you off by shoving two fingers into your hole, not caring about warming you up as you squirmed from his touch.

“Shit,” you whined as his mouth connected with your clit, his tongue lapping up any wetness.

You moaned, your hands gripping his hair as he continued to shove his fingers in and out of you, his unoccupied hand pushing (with difficulty) his trousers down until he was left in his underwear, his hand sneaking past the waistband to lightly stroke himself at the sight of you.

Sirius was already in a fight with Remus over watching you, and part of him didn’t want to make anything worse. Part of him also thought that since they were already in a fight, what did it matter? He would just have to be more careful.

You whimpered when Remus hit a particularly good spot, and Sirius looked toward you through hooded lids, ready to retreat his gaze if Remus checked in on him, but Remus was focused only on you.

He had almost forgotten Sirius was in the room, his desperation and need growing more intense with each moan and whine you let out.

He pulled away from you, pulling his boxers all the way down before crawling on top of you.

“I need to feel you, pretty girl, are you ready for me?” he cooed, stroking his cock faster and faster as he waited for you to respond.

“Please, Remmy,” you begged, and he nearly came in his hand at the sound.

He lined himself up at your entrance, slowly pushing in despite his need. He would never give up watching your face as he pushed into you, even if he was desperate. The way your face contorted, the small whimpers that left your lips, the way your hair looked sprawled out on the pillows, the way your skirt bunched up around your waist-

He bottomed out inside of you, immediately starting to thrust in and out of you.

“Shit, Rem,” you moaned at the feeling, “you can use me.” You knew what he needed when the full moon was near, but your statement still drove him crazy as if he had never heard it before.

Remus placed both of your wrists above your head, holding them with one hand as his head dipped in the crook of your neck, his unoccupied hand finding your clit and rubbing fast circles as he fucked you. He didn’t care about timing, he just needed you bad. He needed to come inside of you, but he needed you to come first, even if it all happened quickly. He adored the feeling of you coming on his cock, and needed to feel it to achieve his own high.

You turned your head so that Remus had more room to rest his on your shoulder, and you glanced at Sirius, who shifted his seated position as he heard you moan. You remembered the last time he was in the room, and you hoped he would look over at you again, your eyes focused on him as Remus pounded into you at a ruthless pace.

He finally did glance at you, but he did a double take, checking if you were really looking at him, and you were. You nodded your head up and down, a way to tell him it was okay with you if he watched, and that you wanted him to do as such.

His eyes remained on you, scanning your body up and down, watching your thighs fall more and more open as Remus’s hand moved faster and faster on your clit.

He loved seeing you with your hands above your head, a new sight for him, Remus having full control over your body.

Your back arched off the bed, causing the pressure on your wrists to increase as your climax threatened to hit, Remus’s hand and his cock almost too much to hold it together.

“Sir- shit, I’m gonna-“

You squeezed Remus’s cock like a vice, your high washing over you as your thighs shook.

“Shit, baby,” Remus breathed.

He didn’t catch your almost-slip, but Sirius certainly did, his eyes darkening as he watched you come down from your high, your body still shifting back and forth on the bed from the force of his best friend’s hips snapping against yours.

“Gonna come in you,” Remus moaned, a final few, sharp thrusts sending him over the edge as he came, groans in your ear that only you could hear as he spilled his seed inside of you.

You signaled for Sirius to look away as Remus let go of your wrists, pulling out of you before standing up and gazing at your fucked-out frame.

“Thank you, baby,” he placed a gentle kiss to your forehead, “let me get you cleaned up.”

He stretched a hand out to you, and you took it, allowing him to guide you to the bathroom.

✶

Sirius did not speak to you for an entire week after that.

You tried to spark conversation, but he always found an excuse to leave the room or divert his attention. Remus noticed, but assumed it was because of the first time he watched you, and he quite enjoyed the thought of Sirius leaving you alone.

You were seated in the common room, everyone apart from you and the boys at a party in the Ravenclaw dorms. The boys had decided to skip this particular party thanks to Remus, who was falling behind in Transfiguration, and who cursed the Ravenclaws for throwing a party the night before a massive Transfiguration exam.

“I can’t fucking focus,” Remus spoke, annoyed at his inability to comprehend the subject.

“I have some extra notes in the dorms,” James spoke, “I can try to find them, maybe they’ll help?”

“Yeah, alright,” Remus agreed, “worth a shot.”

Remus sighed, placing a kiss on your forehead as he and James retreated up the stairs to search for James’s extra notes.

You turned to Sirius, who avoided meeting your gaze.

“Please talk to me, Sirius.”

He ignored you completely.

“Siri, please.”

The pet name broke him out of his mindset. “Don’t call me Siri.”

“Why not, Siri?” you teased.

“Because it does things to me. Stop.”

“Why?”

“Seriously, Y/N-“

“Seriously what? Why won’t you talk to me?”

Sirius lowered his voice, whisper-yelling, “what do you mean why won’t I talk to you? I’m finally in a decent spot with Remus, what am I gonna do if he finds out I eye-fucked his girlfriend again while he was in the middle of railing her?”

“What does that have to do with you speaking to me?” you questioned.

“Because every single time I look at you, I see- I see you like that.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise at Sirius’s confession. “Really?”

“Shut up.”

“You like what you saw?” you teased.

“Shut up.”

“You wanna see more?”

“Stop,” Sirius warned.

You listened intently up the staircase, and heard James yell, “I fucking swear they were here! Check in that one.”

You propped your legs up on the coffee table, allowing your legs to fall open and give Sirius an unobstructed line of sight to your core.

“Do you wanna see more?” you asked again, running a finger over your underwear, just above your folds.

“Don’t fucking tease me.”

You nodded your head no, you were indeed not teasing him. You really were going to touch yourself.

You moved your underwear aside, giving Sirius full view of your most sensitive area as you put one of your middle fingers into your mouth.

You made a show of sucking on the digit, wetting the skin before slowly inserting it into your now-wet hole. You let out a light whine, so as not to alert Remus of what you were up to.

Sirius tried to restrain himself, but he quite literally could not take his eyes away from you. He was obsessed; a man starved who finally found sustenance. He couldn’t look away if he tried.

You began to move your finger faster and faster, your other hand coming up to squeeze your breast over your shirt.

“Shit, Siri,” you moaned, and Sirius nearly lost it right there.

He stood up and approached you, gripping the wrist that was moving your finger inside of your hole.

You assumed he would stop you, but instead, he pulled your finger out, pressing two of his fingers to your lips and allowing you to suck on them.

When he was satisfied with how wet they were, he replaced your finger with his own, his pointer and middle entering you slowly as you threw your head back.

Sirius turned his head to the staircase, hearing “well why wouldn’t they be with literally every other set of notes?” and “fucking hell, can you check the trunk over there?”

Sirius met your eyes, watching you squirm as he fingered you, his thumb finding its way to your clit and rubbing circles, a small smile finding its way onto his lips as he watched your reaction to his touch.

As he pumped his fingers faster and faster, he began to curl them against your spongy walls, a euphoric feeling.

“Siri, fuck,” you whined.

Sirius’s unoccupied hand went to your mouth, covering it to keep you from being loud enough for Remus or James to hear.

“You’re so fucking pretty, did you know that?” Sirius spoke, hand still ruthless on your core, “staring at me with someone else’s cock in you, thinking it won’t affect me?”

You whined under Sirius’s hand, your hips beginning to grind on his hand as he continued speaking.

“Silly little girl, don’t you know Remus said we shouldn’t look at you? You keep breaking his rules, and that’s only something bad girls do. You’re not a bad girl, are you?”

Sirius only moved his hand from your mouth to hear you respond. “Maybe I am, Siri,” you moaned.

Sirius placed his hand back over your mouth, his fingers fucking you faster and faster after you spoke. “You wanna be a bad girl? I’ll treat you like a bad girl. Isn’t that what you want, huh? Staring at me when you have Remus inside of you?”

Your high was dangerously close, Sirius’s fingers better than you could have ever imagined, when Sirius heard “fuck this! I’m just gonna go back downstairs.”

Sirius immediately pulled away, placing your legs back in a normal seated position as he sat back down across from you, scanning the pages of his textbook as if nothing had just happened.

“Sorry that took so long, dumbass couldn’t even find the extra notes,” Remus said, plopping down next to you and throwing an arm around your shoulders, “did I miss anything good?”

[xazse]

Hello z! Just wanted to say your writing is so yummy and keeps me and the rest of your followers so full😋 BTW! More puppy girl hybrid?? (P.s this is my first request 🙂‍↕️❤️)

PT 2 OF MY MOST RECENT PUPPYGIRL!HYBRID FIC FOR THOSE WHO ASKED!!

PT1 HERE

Notes: IM SO HAPPY IM UR FIRST REQUESTEE! I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS!! And I’m super glad you enjoy my writing it really means a lot<33

Warnings: Hybrid!Gojo + fem!reader + PuppyHybrid!Reader + smut + small Drabble + not proofread + brat!reader + little bit of sub!Satoru + nipple!teasing + slight crying + overstimulation + mean!Suguru + exhibition

People who asked to be tagged: @qmsvpx @sugurubabe @shokosbunny @rinsluhvr @fuyuji-ii @mashtura @wisteriaflowersss @kickenkricken @rinsluhvr @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni I hope you guys enjoy!

WolfHybrid!Gojo who really can’t take all the teasing you’ve been putting him through. After the first incident Suguru made it 100 percent clear to you specifically that you are to not touch Satoru like that again, who knows what will happen if he’s not around. He’s not scared Satoru will hurt you but he should be eased into the world of pleasure not immediately made to cum on himself his first day in what is now his home.

Suguru scolds you bad, telling you how disappointed he is, how you know better! He knows how needy hybrids get especially your species but the toys he supplies for you should be more than enough. All you did in retaliation was make it a goal to ruin Satoru… poor thing why is he the victim in all of this? And yet he doesn’t even know.

You ignore Suguru’s rule when it’s just you and Satoru in the house.

You make an effort to rub yourself all over his body while wearing the thinnest layer of clothing, when he’s laying on the couch facing the ceiling you’ll come lifting his shirt up and licking all over his chest, even sucking on his nipples as extra stimulation. You love his reactions, everything makes him fully hard and his loud moans fill the empty living room. He can’t process what to do with this pleasure besides grabbing and fondling his cock until he’s finishing in his pants again.

It doesn’t take long for him to be hard all over again, and for you to repeat the process. If he asks if you can help him feel like that again you’ll force him to rub your ears for a good five minutes.

WolfHybrid!Gojo who gets to feel what it’s like being balls deep in your cunt, when you sink your nice ass to meet his pelvis, the poor wolf is fucking gone, he’s never felt something so tight around his cock, he’s never felt anything around his cock! Your plush walls squeeze him so good that he’s having a hard time forming sentences let alone words, all that’s slipping from his pretty slippery pink lips are moans, moans that emphasize how his balls are tightening and he’s cumming deep inside you.

You’re quick to start bouncing so cutely on him, your floppy ears bouncing along with you. Your toys don’t compare to Satoru’s thick cock, how has a woman never felt something like this? You can feel the twitching of his veins as he gets it up once again. You peek at his face to find the wolfman ruined, drool seeps from the corners of his lips and tears are decorating his lash lines.

When you finally cum, it’s a damn mess, the mixture of you two sit where you meet and seep out. The pleasure in the moment doesn’t have you thinking of what Suguru will do to you, doesn’t matter what he will do to the both of you, all you can think of is grinding down on Satoru’s cock for another orgasm.

Bonus!

Suguru is fucking furious, he was mad the first time but he let it slide since it simple curiosity on both sides. The simple curiosity has gone too far, you don’t fucking listen. Since the moment he had welcomed you into his home a few years back he’s had a hard time getting you to listen to directions.

He doesn’t hear you out when he drags you and Satoru to the bedroom, in fact he tells the both of you to keep going. You find yourselves shy under his eye and insist that you’ve both learned your lesson from his lecture earlier. He wasn’t really lecturing Satoru since he doesn’t know the rules as well as you do but this is a great learning moment.

He ignores you, ignores how you’re using the sweet eyes with him, he’s dead serious.

You’re quick to obey and incite a small kiss with Satoru, that turns into a full on make-out with Suguru watching intently.

The rest of the night is filled with moans and groans of complaints, Suguru had told Satoru to let any lewd feelings he had all on you, Satoru does not hold back at all, he fucks his thick cock into your sensitive walls over and over, the mess from earlier helps as to not hurt you so it’s so easy for him to slide back and forth. Satoru found himself ecstatic at the start but when he finds his cock overstimulated and his balls hurting from the painful pleasure he’s not feeling the same, but he for some reason won’t stop his hips from moving, he loves the feeling of having you cum around him nonstop, he loves Suguru watching him so intently, everything mixed together.

Your clit is so slippery that it’s hard to pinpoint where you should be rubbing, everytime you stop Suguru is quick to snap at you to keep going, this is what you wanted correct? He makes sure to ask that out loud, you’re so fucking adorable with the way you nod in his direction, he knows you have a few more in you.

[mrsbarnesblog]

just a friend

masterlist

requests are open

summary: your best friend gets jealous when he sees you talking to some random guy at his party

words count: 3k

warnings: +18❗️smut, swearing, p in v sex, protected sex, friends to lovers, possessive but softie Rafe, dirty talk, pet names

You were standing near the kitchen island, far away from everybody else, sipping on your drink and observing Rafe. The loud music busted through the speakers, there were too many unknown faces and for the hundredth time wished you had stayed at home. 

Rafe was sitting on the couch in the middle of the room with Kelse, Topper, a few other guys, and, most importantly, some random girl. She was way too touchy for your liking and it honestly seemed like she was ready to get into his pants in front of everyone. 

Rafe didn't pay much attention, though, even while she was rubbing his pants-covered thigh and saying something in his ear. No, Rafe was too interested in the conversation with his friend, but it didn't stop that nasty and overwhelming feeling of jealousy bubbling in your stomach.

You and Rafe have been friends for almost three years, but it didn't seem like it. While you had neved crossed the invisible line, unknowningly for each other you both admitted to yourself that whatever was going on in between you two was not a regular friendship. Friends shouldn't sleep in each other's beds. Friends shouldn’t spend that much time together alone. Friends shouldn't be jealous every single time someone talks to their friend. And friends shouldn't be in love. 

Yet, here you were. 

You were staring at this scene for at least fifteen minutes and it drove you fucking insane. Especially the fact that Rafe had never let any man even talk to you, not to mention be all up in your face. It was so unfair that he had double standards for you and that he probably didn't even realize your feelings for him. 

Rafe was just too overprotective and possessive and you had to admit the ugly truth to yourself that it wasn't because he was in love with you. 

You finished your drink, wincing at the taste of alcohol, and straightened, looking across the room full of people. There were too many guys; you spotted the one that looked kind of attractive and moved in his direction. You were done with Rafe’s bullshit. If he could have girls all over himself, so could you. 

“Hey.” You tapped on the guy’s shoulder to grab his attention. He became flirty way too quickly, stepping closer to you and giving his best smirk, yet your eyes were still drifting back to Rafe. 

You saw the exact moment when your best friend noticed your current company. You and Ed were chatting for no more than five minutes, and while he was talking about it being his plans for the night, you saw Rafe getting up from the couch with a frown on his face. He quickly crossed the room, not bothering to check on the girl who was trying to get his attention over the loud music, or say even say something to his friends. 

“What are you doing here?” His brows furrowed even more, his eyes going up and down the guy near you. 

“I’m talking, Rafe. Go back to your company.” You rolled your eyes, looking back at Ed. “So what were you saying? Your frie—” 

“You’re coming with me, Y/N.” Before you could even say anything, you were dragged away to the second floor, where no one could bother you. “What the fuck was that, huh? I told you like a million fucking times to not talk to the guys at these damn parties; they're goin’ to hurt you.” Rafe freed your hand, pacing in front of you and running his own hand through his hair. He was visibly annoyed and pissed, and with the way he was acting, you wanted to push his buttons even more.

"You are my friend, Rafe, and you have no fucking right to tell me who I can and cannot speak to or go out with!" You shouted back, not even in the slightest fear of the flames in his eyes, when his head snapped back towards you. 

"Whether you like it or not, Y/N, I am not going to let any fuckers with bad intentions get near you."  

"Apparently, they are the only ones who are interested in me. You seem to be always busy with all the girls who are ready to climb you.” You laughed even though it hurt you to say it out loud. “I'm sick of your double standards, Rafe. You think I want to look at you with some random girls? You think it’s okay to scare guys away from me and then casually let everyone be all over you?” 

“What the fuck does that mean? You know I am not dating anyone. They can do whatever they want because I have no plans with any of them." He rolled his eyes, already irritated that he was actually fighting with you for the first time. But there was no going back and you both felt it. The constant tension and secret feelings were overflowing and they had to find a way out. “You’re acting like a child, swear to god, babe.”

“Because you're giving me mixed signals and confusing me!” You stepped closer, pointing a finger at his chest. 

“You know the reason why I do this.” Rafe grabbed your wrist, slightly pulling you closer. Your eyes locked on each other, and your faces were so close that you could smell liquor his his breath. You felt the way your stomach dropped when Rafe’s eyes quickly felt to your lips, yet you were still filled with anger. 

"No, I don't! You’re giving me hope on something, you’re being affectionate with me, we’re spending all our time together, but then you just step back as if it was nothing! Just stop playing with my feelings and tell the fucking tr—-“ Before you could even finish your sentence, your body got pushed back and pressed in between the wall and Rafe’s body. His grip on your face was firm yet gentle enough to not hurt you when he brought you closer to him and finally kissed you.

You both moaned into the kiss as if you were surprised and content that it had finally happened. Rafe’s lips moved quickly, easily dominating over you, as he swiped his tongue over your bottom lip, asking for permission to slip in. 

“I’m just a friend, huh? You’re driving me fucking insane. You’re mine, don’t you understand it?” He mumbled against your mouth, sliding one hand down your body and at the same time pushing his legs in between your thighs. He just simply wanted to pin you against the wall, but the way his thigh pressed into your pulsing core made you both hiss. “Do you really think I would let anyone kiss you? Touch you? I’m selfish, Y/N, and I don’t like to share anything or anyone.” You felt as if you were high or drunk with the way your body reacted to Rafe’s touches, trying to concentrate on his words but actually only wishing his lips to get back on yours. 

“You let them touch you. That girl was all over you today, and you did nothing to prevent it.” You breathed into his lips, feeling a lazy smirk stretching across his own. Rafe leaned in again, pressing a few quick, wet kisses to your mouth and wrapping one hand harder around your body.

“She was fucking annoying and I tried to get her off of me. I don’t need any of them. My eyes have always been on you. I swear.” Rafe’s hands tugged on your dress, sliding it higher to have more access to your body. “Holy shit, Y/N. I don't know how I was able to be friends with you for so long. I want you so bad.” 

You moaned, your head falling back against the wall, when Rafe’s lips slid down the side of your neck, leaving soft bites and reddish marks. Your own hands reached under his t-shirt, touching his firm abs and scratching his tanned skin until he moaned into your mouth. 

“I was scared to make a move. To scare you away. But you are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I cannot pretend to be only your friend." His hands were sliding up and down your thighs, bringing you closer and not pulling his face away from your neck. Your scent has always driven him insane and he couldn’t have enough of you. “Do you feel it? Do you feel how hard you make me, Y/N?” His hands tugged your hips closer, until his bulge was firmly pressing into your leg.  

“Rafe…” You whined, your hips moving on his thigh, which was still pressed in between your legs. The feeling of your underwear getting wetter by the second made you wonder if Rafe could feel it through his pants. “Y-you know that everyone thinks that we’re sleeping together, right?”

“I think we shouldn’t disappoint them, hm?” You felt a smile spreading across his lips and you giggled back at him. Your hands are now tagging the annoying piece of fabric that hid his body from you, not even caring about people that might go to the second floor of Cameron’s house and catch you.

You managed to drag the t-shirt off of Rafe, your mouth instantly getting watery with the image in front of you. Sure, you saw Rafe shirtless countless times at the beach, but knowing that you could shamelessly do whatever you wanted made your whole body tingle. 

“Fuck that.” Before you even knew it, Rafe’s hands easily lifted you up, making your legs automatically wrap around his body. His lips met yours again, and he started blindly moving towards his bedroom. 

Your body bounced on the way-too-soft and way-too-expensive mattress of his king-size bed as he threw you there and went to lock the door. Rafe followed you shortly after, too desperate to keep touching you. His hands slid up your bare thighs, going past the strings of your panties, pushing your dress until it was gathered around your waist. 

“Can I take it off?” He looked at you, his eyes surprisingly soft and completely different from what you'd expected. You just simply nodded, lifting your hands in the air, until the only real item of clothing was taken off you and thrown somewhere in the room. 

Rafe’s eyes took every inch of your exposed skin, his hands gently sliding down your sides. You were only dressed in a simple black set, but for Rafe, it was the sexiest thing in the world. 

He wanted you for so long. Just looking from afar, he was trying to restrict himself from getting closer to you because he had always thought that you deserved someone better. But at the same time, who could treat you better than him? Only Rafe knew everything that you liked and needed, and he was willing to give it to you. 

“You’re so pretty, for fuck’s sake. I’ll be careful with you.” Rafe's body covered yours, his soft lips kissing your neck and going all the way down to your belly, making you gasp. You buried your hands in his hair, moving it away from his face. “I’ll take care of you. I promise I won’t fuck this up.” He looked up at you with his baby blues, and your whole body got covered in goosebumps from the look in his eyes. 

“Please, Rafe.” You whispered, taking his face into your hands and dragging him back on top of you. You two could not stop moaning as your hands began to explore each other's bodies and your lips met once more in a passionate kiss. “I want you.”

“Baby… Can’t even imagine what you’re doing to me.” He groaned against your mouth. The position that you were currently in, with Rafe comfortably in between your slightly spread legs, made his pants-covered erection perfectly press into your dump panties. “Need to be inside of you or else you’ll make me cum in my pants.” 

It became a mess of tugging on each other's clothes while trying to have as much skin-to-skin contact as possible. When you were both naked, Rafe slowed down, holding your face with one firm hand. “Is it really what you want to do? ‘Cause I won’t go back to pretending to be friends anymore.”  

“Just fuck me already, Cameron.” You whispered, not breaking intense eye contact. 

“As you wish, sweetheart.” With these words, Rafe pulled back to reach the nightstand and take a condon. He carelessly threw it near your exposed body and took a few seconds to finally admire your naked form. 

You were basically inviting him to do whatever he wanted with your slightly spread legs, which let him see how wet you already were. That pleading look on your face didn’t help the situation either, making Rafe want to fuck you dumb until his name was the only thing on your mind. 

He looked you up and down a few times before leaning forward, pressing your legs closer to your chest. Rafe’s calloused hands reached to your sensitive breasts, touching nipples with his thumbs, until your eyes rolled back into your head. 

“Are you ready for me, or do you want me to eat you out first, hm?” His soft breath on the side of your neck sent shievers down your body. As much as you wanted to feel his lips on you, it felt like you could not think straight without his dick stretching you out, so you helplessly shook your head. 

“Next time, please. I need you now.” 

He gave you a sly smile and, in a single motion, ripped off the foil, rolled a condom over his throbbing cock, and placed himself at your entrance. You squirmed at the feeling of his tip going up and down your wet slit, gathering your juices and stimulating your sensitive clit. 

“Fuck, so you’re soakin’ my sheets, baby.” He smirked, looking down at your pussy and teasing you more, until a moan of his name escaped from your mouth. “Keep your legs here, okay? ‘N I’ll take care of you.” 

When you felt Rafe's cock slide into you, your eyes flattered before closing completely. It was big. It was bigger than you had ever had before, but it seemed like your body quickly adjusted to him as soon as he bottomed out. With one hand near your head to hold himself up and the other one on your leg, he slowly started moving in and out. 

“Rafe!” You squeaked, digging your nails into your thighs and trying to control yourself.

“Sh-h, ‘s okay. Knew this pussy was made for me, babe.” He moaned through gritted teeth, gradually increasing the speed of his thrusts. Soon, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with muffled moans and Rafe’s praises. His bed was making a noise with every movement, and if you hadn't been too lost in the pleasure, you would’ve thought about other people hearing you. Rafe could not take his gaze away from your face—the way you tried to control yourself but soon lost it when his cock touched that sensitive spot inside of you. Your glossy eyes, hot skin and puffy lips made him go feral, fucking you harder into the matress of his bed.

“That’s right, scream my name. Made ya go dumb for my cock, huh?” He watched in awe at the way you were going insane under him; your release was visibly getting closer with every thrust. You moan even louder, feeling a tight knot form in your lower stomach, and the feeling gradually increased when the base of his cock brushed over your clit. “Squeezin’ me so tight. My good girl... fuck, baby. That’s right, cum for me. I’ve got you.” 

Rafe grabbed both of your hands, showing you to put them around his neck. It made your legs fall from the previous position and you weakly put them around his waist. Rafe finally lowered his face closer to you, catching your lips in a wet and sloppy kiss, still pounding into you roughly and steadily. 

“I-I can’t, Rafe, please!”

You particularly breathe the same air, moan into each other’s mouths, hooded eyes locked on when the orgasm washes over you almost simultaneously. Without even realizing it, you dragged your nails down Rafe’s sweaty back, leaving red marks that he will proudly show off tomorrow. His hips slowly pushed into you while you were still pulsating around his cock, enjoying your own release. Just the feeling of your pussy milking him could’ve made him cum again. 

“Rafe…” You whisper, your eyes now closed and your head feeling all fuzzy and warm. Rafe slowly slipped out of you, walking away to throw out a condom. You whined at the empty feeling and the coldness that the lack of his touch had brought. 

“‘M right here, baby. You did amazing.” As he came back on top of you, now wearing boxers, he placed kisses on the heated skin of your neck, his hand sliding down your side to soothe the aching muscles of your legs. “My pretty girl... Gosh, now I’m not letting you go. Like ever.” 

You giggle, draping your arms over his shoulders and playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “So all I had to do was talk to some random guy for you to get all angry and kiss me?” 

“Don’t remind me of that. I just realised that I might actually lose you.” Rafe whispered the last part, nuzzling into your neck and wrapping his arms around your waist until there was no space left between your naked bodies. 

“You won’t lose me, I promise.” You hugged him back, enjoying the comfortable silence that fell into the room, until you both fell asleep in each other's arms. 

[hoseoksluna]

TIME | knj

pairing: fiancé!namjoon x oc 

genre: smut

word count: 13.0k

summary: namjoon makes your dream come true in a much better way than you ever wanted.

pinterest board: divine | playlist: time | taglist: join

warnings: basic relationship fears, oc is heartbroken in the beginning, fight, minor violence, oc has daddy issues (like the writer), namjoon and oc smoke (like the writer as well <3), family sickness, punishment, spanking, choking, hair pulling, a mention of throat fucking and squirting, namjoon has an obsession with oc's boobies, dirty talk, use of a blindfold during intercourse, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, handjob, multiple orgasms, raw sex, namjoon talks her through it, praise kink

note: i will cherish this work until the day i die. i will carry it in my heart and never, ever forget it. this might be my best piece and i don't think i'll ever write anything as good as this. i love namjoon with all my heart and i want to thank him for inspiring me to write this. if he weren't such an amazing person, such a dear person to me and if he never released cbtm, this work wouldn't be here and i wouldn't brim with so many warm emotions. i gotta tell you guys—while writing the smut, this was the first time i wasn't affected by it in a way that i normally am because i found so much beauty in their relationship. enjoy this, my loves. let me know what you think. i love you. <3

The orange light in the hotel room causes bile to rise in your throat. It exudes a zephyr of mockery, such profound air of scorn, and you feel it thumping upon its reflection on the bare skin of your arms. You want to pinch it—make it hurt somehow, cause it the same agony that’s poisoning your system through and through because in all truth, that’s all you’re left to do. 

The Eiffel tower out beyond your window, blanketed in a soft layer of snow, has begun to twinkle. The perception of how long you’ve waited for your fiancé to come back that even such a monumental structure, your dream, has descended to its sleep full of blinding light beckons gooseflesh to mar your skin and it doesn’t go away. Not when your sight blurs, unfocuses, and the stars that have latched themselves to the tower enlarge into bulbs with softened edges, a myriad of bokeh that seem to have a slither of pity for you, lessening their grandness as the falling snow thickens. Not when both of your waterlines become rivulets of tears that heat your cold cheeks, despite the burning bushes of fury that incinerate your lungs. 

Just one more hour and the twigs of flames will perforate the chambers of your heart and sweep it clean of any emotions, any feelings, any understanding for the man that took you to Paris and left you all alone in the hotel room he paid for. You thought he took you here to give you the experience of seeing something new as you’ve never been to Europe and you’ve shared with him on several occasions that it’s always been your dream to see the Eiffel tower. Especially at night when it glimmers with such pretty, pretty stars. But considering he brought you here under the pretense of doing business, you carry nothing but contempt for the strange iron structure. So much for dreaming, so much for putting trust in a man. 

There will always be the other woman. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the form of a female, of alcohol, of ignorance. In this case, the mistress is Namjoon’s company and you should’ve known you’ll have her haunting your back for the rest of the trajectory of your secret relationship with him, with Mr. President. 

You should’ve seen it coming the moment she created a realm for you to soften, privately, in and fall in love with him until your ears turned red, the petals of roses. A realm between an ordinary employee and her boss. Between the walls of unknowing people—the way he would lean in to hear you talk because in comparison to his large stature and broad proportions, made even more prominent by his short hair, you were a mere stone on the ground, an ametrine—split in half with a tendril of yellow—but a stone regardless, fearing the tip of his lacquered dress shoes stomping on you until you’re left crumbled in the dying grass, the jagged pieces of you consoled by the ruthless wind.

You were terribly afraid of him. Briefly, but ardently. A true personification of desire, whenever you had to look up into his eyes. Whenever a whiff of his oriental cologne tickled your nostrils. Whenever the allure of secrecy between you two heightened. All because he was a powerful man, on the cusp of saving you from the lowest of the dirt. Saving you and digging you back inside, left to your own decay. 

Left to. That’s the wisp of tendency in your relationship. The wisp of force that drove you to give your yes to him. The wisp of the engagement ring encased around the fourth finger on your left hand. Left to—because you’d been single for so long and your mother pined after grandchildren and Namjoon was there, a knight in shining armor, dressed in suit and tie underneath, at the very age and position to settle down. Left to—because the special attention he gave you grazed your fear of him, gently, and helped it blossom into a bush of hyacinths growing in your lungs.

It’s how you found out you were in a severe destitute of a fatherly figure in your life.

Because Namjoon paid your bills. Put food on your mother’s table. In the form of a generous paycheck, overtime pay—even though you always clocked out at five, and odd bonuses that rose in monetary value the more he spent time with you. You’ve told him to stop, asked for fairness among his employees, even though nobody liked you there and would do quite the opposite if they ever happened to be in your shoes. But Namjoon never agreed to your offer. No, he stroked your hair and told you to save that money for your mother. And because you never heard that come out of man’s mouth, you nodded, meekly. Listened. The fear of him stroking the violet petals of hyacinths in you because as of now, he owned you. Owned your life. Owned the comfort of your mother. 

All because you made the faux pas and took off your heels when you thought your presentation was done and nobody answered when you asked if anyone had any questions left. Except for that one employee who didn’t have, evidently, a sense of decency and suddenly remembered he had a groundbreaking question to ask you in regards to the matter of your presentation, when everyone else, including Namjoon, was gathering their possessions and rising to their feet. 

He had noticed your nylon-clad feet, your swollen little toes, the way you rolled the ball of your foot on the carpet to alleviate yourself of the pain. And he changed the decades-old policy of dress code the next day. Forbade all women to wear high heels. Flat shoes only—loafers, ballet shoes. Incorporated bonuses that appeared in their bank accounts that very day, demanding an instant payment. 

He paid for every woman’s shoes in his company, including you. 

You never had to go through the torment of wearing heels again, no matter how pretty they seemed to you.

And then it was easy—languid and smooth, the innocent eye contact from across the room, the constant attention, the brushing of hands when walking past each other. And then you ran into him everywhere. He was always alone, which caused you to suspect he was single, so you smiled a little more and found it the easiest thing in the world, conversing with him about everything and nothing. Put a lot more care into the clothes you wore and the daily choice of your perfumes. Not forcing yourself and not being in control of it at the same time, something in the very middle. Something so natural that allowed you to turn your brain off for a moment and let yourself be led by your instincts. 

Then, your mother got sick and you lost your smile. Spent all your free time with her, taking care of her and you never ran into Namjoon again. 

Which is why he began to call you into his office behind the pretense that he needs something from you. And perhaps he did. He needed to be a friend for you. And you needed it just the same. 

He helped you cope with the gravity of a burden regarding a sickly parent and you became his.

And you gave more of yourself to him with every fleeting touch, every secret invitation to his office in broad daylight when he had meetings to attend to but wanted to get to know you instead, get to know your dreams because he has the money and the power to make them come true. Tenderly, despite the potency, the violence of his instrument. And tenderly, he always treated you. Tenderly, he held you steady as you made it a regular thing between you and him to sit on his lap. Not straddling him, but sideways—like a little girl sitting on the lap of her father. Tenderly, he led you through new parts of your life with poetic advice and viewpoints, meeting you outside of work, intertwining his fingers with yours and reassuring you. And tenderly, he became the stable male figure you invariably needed and never knew you did. 

And tenderness is what you need right now. In this shadowed hotel room, with only your arms to wrap around your torso and a ring on your left fourth finger, a ghost of his presence, ever so lingering, but not quite here. And you clutch at your dress, scrape your fingernails along the side of your ribs, etching the words that he said to your slowly awakening form in the late afternoon before he left. 

“I won’t be long. I just have some business to attend to. I’ll be back in an hour.”

It has been more than an hour and you wonder if he’s going to miss the twinkling of the tower. It’s your first night here. You had dinner after you landed, napped, didn’t even walk around the poetry-woven city and Namjoon chose his work. You showered for him, wore the long black dress you saved up the little of your last two paychecks for and he’s not here to see it. 

You feel so betrayed. He found work in your spare time, the time saved only for you both, the time that should’ve been saved for the romance part of your relationship. All he knows is work and so do you—as the entirety of your hours spent together have been solely work-related. This vacation should have been anything but. 

You sigh, hand ready at the zipper at the back of your dress. Once he comes home, he’ll be tired. Too tired to take a walk and immerse himself in the European beauty, so you should save this dress for a better occasion, one which he’s present for. Whenever that is. If that ever comes, at all. 

The squeak of the zipper going down is interrupted when you hear the lock make a sing-song melody, a signal that someone is coming in. Your breath quivers. A twist of events you didn’t expect, but you don’t get your hopes up. You know your fiancé well enough not to expect him to be full of life and elation after a work meeting. This isn’t the first time it’s happened, but you let it slide past every time, aware that if he didn’t work so hard, your mother wouldn’t have the comfort she has. And neither would you. 

That doesn’t mean you’ll let it slide past this time. Not when he reserved his special time for you, for you both. 

Namjoon emerges out of the soft-toned yellow hall with a hand behind his back. You rise from the bed, facing him. Notice his sagged, broad shoulders, the sweat that lines his forehead and the narrow thin line that his lips are pursed in. A petulant, gray aura swathes him, despite the vibrancy of the colors of the hotel room and when he comes in, it’s almost like he absorbs them. His brows quirk at the sight of you, nearly relieved to see you dressed and waiting for him, but that expression falters once he takes in the mirror of you. The same wrinkle on your forehead stamps itself onto his and the sag of his coat-clad shoulders deepens. He stops at the edge of the bed, in front of you. Remains silent. And when you give him a few more seconds to speak and he doesn’t, your fists clench at your sides, against the linen puffiness of your dress. 

“An hour, huh?” 

He sighs and lowers his gaze. But not onto the ground. No, he lowers it onto your dress, swallowing dryly at the accentuation of your waist and the bunched up fabric at the hips cascading down, clothing you in the prosaic night of Paris, not the poetic, not the lively. He missed it. 

“You look so beautiful in this dress,” Namjoon comments and you scoff. If that’s his way of apologizing for leaving you for almost four hours, you don’t really understand it. It merely adds fuel to the flames of the indignation underneath that fucking dress. 

“Do you know what time it is?” you bite, your fingers instinctively grabbing onto the fabric of your garment for some kind of stability as your blood boils. Abruptly, his eyes flick to the window and when you follow his gaze, you discover the tower dressed similarly as you. Shrouded, entirely, in the night, clouds drifting past in place of the twinkles. Your blood is scorching hot and even though you didn’t expect him to take you to it, your stomach still drops at the disappointment that you missed the thing you looked forward to for weeks, knowing it won’t be the same tomorrow or the day after that. Your eyes prick with tears and you hate them. Don’t want to cry. Don’t want to be a spoiled brat, in fact. Not when you grew up the way you did—dreamless, poor and independent. But you can’t stop the words from rushing out. “I can see you wearing that watch that costs more than the house I grew up in and I know your habit of checking the time often, so tell me. Why didn’t you text me? Why didn’t you pick up my calls? Why did you bring me here in the first place if you knew you had business?” 

Mouth ends rounding ever so slightly, at last he shows what he’s been hiding behind his back. A bouquet of fresh, violet chrysanthemums and baby’s breath of the same muted tones. A symbol of thoughtfulness and care. The oxymoron makes you seethe and you grit your teeth. 

“I ran around the city trying to find one flower shop that was still open. I bought the first flowers that reminded me of you.” He pushes them your way, trying to get you to take them and you do, the wrapper rustling as your hands touch and electricity zaps you. Damn it. “Purple, your favorite color.” 

The audacity this man has, walking over that one word of apology, avoiding it. He takes your anger to another level and the fact that it seems to be endless makes you even angrier. Enough to want to hit him with the flowers. 

And you do. 

The flowers hover in the air in slow motion before their petals scatter around his troubled shoulders and the ruffled bed, where you sat so restlessly. Namjoon raises his arms in defense and you don’t stop, not until he grabs your arms and stills you. 

He calls you by your name, his hold on you deathly, and he shakes you, just once, in effort to bring some sense into you. “Calm down.” 

The stems from the chrysanthemums lay crooked on the floor between your bare feet and his black dress shoes. Ruined, devastated. Just like your dream. Some snapped in half, never to be whole again. Just like your heart. 

“You think some flowers are gonna bring my dream back, huh?” you snap, raising your voice, quivering in his grasp. You push at his chest, trying to get out of his clutches, but to no avail. You remain firm and unmoving in his hold. He doesn’t even budge. And once again you feel like a stone—an amethyst this time. Bigger, stronger, yet it still pales in comparison to the mountain that Namjoon is. You give very little fuck about that, however. “You knew it was my dream to see the Eiffel Tower at night. You brought me here knowing that, so I’m asking you once again why. Why did you bring me here when you knew you weren’t gonna make that dream come true for me?” 

He sucks in a breath and it looks as though he’s hanging by the edge of his composure. A thick vein bulges on his forehead and he clenches his jaw, his mouth a small button on his face. Anger. A mirror of you. But it’s not directed towards you—not at all. 

Namjoon withdraws and steps away, taking off his coat and his jacket, slinging his outerwear onto the edge of the bed. And as you simmer in the middle of the tense silence, he casually rolls his sleeves upwards, focusing his gaze, momentarily, on the action before he bores it into yours. The other sleeve gets the same treatment meanwhile he keeps the boiling temperature of your fury at a fixed degree with that stare. You want to boil over and so does he, but he doesn’t let that happen. 

The tiniest wisp of lust curls in your bloodstream, steamed by the heat, creating something dangerous. Oh, he’s playing with fire and he shouldn’t. 

All forest fires end catastrophically. The ruined flowers are enough proof of that, and yet it’s just the beginning. 

Namjoon loosens his tie a little bit, tipping his chin, and you can’t help but to ogle the slender material, his long fingers as they hook over the knot and pull it down. They way he’s asserting his dominance—the way he’s making you wait, making you tremble all fucking over by the silence and the slowness of his motions, by his stance and the clenched jaw. You hate the way it’s working; hate, with all your crumbling, stony being the pressure of your craving to get on your knees. 

Your tremor causes your fallen strap to tickle your arm and it snaps you out of the indecent daze, head swiveling to it, hand fixing it right away. You tug your dress down so it doesn’t slip down again, your plunging sweetheart neckline exposing your full breasts. 

“Why don’t you ask me what the business was about?” Namjoon challenges and it causes your head to swivel back to him, facing him. He’s sunk his hands into the pockets of his black dress pants, anticipation and tension hanging heavily in the stuffed air. 

You raise your brows. Fuck if you care about it. “Do I look like I give a fuck? I don’t wanna hear it.” 

Namjoon drops his gaze onto the ground, the clench of his jaw tightening enough that a dimple appears on the side of his cheek. For some reason you can’t really explain it aches and you don’t want to look at him anymore. You edge around him, the soles of your feet stepping on the violet petals and when you’re side by side, he stops you with one hand. 

“You’re gonna want to hear this,” he murmurs, his hold on you softening once your movement is halted. 

You roll your eyes, untangling your arm from it. “Too bad I don’t.” 

Namjoon sighs, deeply. “I’m telling you this one last time. You’re gonna sit on this fucking bed like the nice girl I know you are and you’re gonna listen to me.” 

A pulse sneaks to your sensitive parts and you furrow your brows, not liking the words he chose, not liking the way they made you feel. A half of you is torn, though. A half of you forces your body to do as he says, liking it very much. Too fucking much. “You don’t get to talk to me like this. It’s unfair.” 

“Sit.” 

That half of you wins. That easily. 

You sit on the bed and cross your leg over the knee, obnoxiously dangling your shin back and forth. The hem of your dress flutters, gains momentum when Namjoon opens the balcony door, letting the winter air in. Then, he moves over to stand a foot away from you, the stems crunching beneath his feet, his hand fishing out his pack of cigarettes and pulling one out, popping it into his mouth. Yellow, almost brownish butt. Golden Marlboros. Typical. 

Your own parts in dismay. “You’re gonna set the fire alarm off.” 

“You’re gonna get rained on, then. Look pretty in that soaking dress with the petals and all.” He lights up his addiction and the flow of your fire changes its course. Burns differently now. Burns lustfully. “You think I didn’t tell them to turn it off when we arrived? You were too sleepy. Barely knew where we were.” 

Flying while drifting through dreamland does that to you. Why it is a surprise to you that Mr. President made such a demand is beyond you. What’s more, it annoys you. His power, his influence. While it once sparked fear, you’re glad it’s lukewarm to you now. 

Sucking deeply, he puffs out the smoke, its tendrils curling around his eyes that he narrows to protect them from the sting. Your fingers, instinctively, play with your engagement ring. You’ve always loved the way he smoked. Especially in his office. Especially the way it never smelled. His attention to detail, his thoughtfulness perpetually mesmerized you. You wonder where it’s gone at the cusp of the realization of your dream. 

“I fought tooth and nail to get a deal. To make a connection. For you.” 

You scowl at him, pull your wandering fingers away from your engagement ring. What the fuck does he mean by that? 

“For me?” 

“Yes, for you. For your mother.” 

You grip the edge of the mattress at the mention of your mother, left behind on her sick bed while you’re fussy about your mindless dream. A jolt of guilt runs down your body and your scowl smoothens. You don’t think the madness disappears from your eyes. Not entirely. 

“I risked having some very powerful people knowing about us because I wanted you to have a stable place here. There’s a five star hotel that has shares in Korea. I wanted to become their partner. Get you in there. Get you another source of income. Get you a house here. For your mother. For our children. Have you commute here whenever you’d like,” Namjoon breathes out, moving his busy hand with each word, the smoke clouding the air. He takes a drag, holding the cigarette. “Come to think of it, you’d get to see this.” He points behind himself at the Eiffel Tower with his thumb. “For a week straight if you’d like. Splurge on dresses, shoes and croissants and whatnot. Have not one care in the world. You make the call and we fly.” 

From Korea to Paris. Whenever you’d like. Namjoon is the CEO of a five star hotel he built with his own hands. You’re the marketing manager, but you oversee almost everything you find time for. From banquets to room beddings, only because you enjoy it. It’s the main reason why you’re so disliked. You’re favored. And if there’s conflict of interest, there’s only one person who wins in the eyes and the final say of the CEO.

Namjoon’s hidden thoughtfulness opens in the shadows of the room and you’re stupefied. 

He wanted to partner with another five star hotel in Paris. 

For you. For your mother. For your future. For your comfort. 

For your dream. 

For your children. 

Your mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. 

How would you possibly handle having your job times two? You already have enough on your plate. Have wished, multiple times, that there was more of you cloned, who could do each job that you have to do each day. Doing that twice would be difficult, agonizingly so, but knowing your own work ethic, you’d make it manageable. You’d make do. Not for yourself, per say—but for your mother and your future children. 

Your heart constricts. Constricts so tightly that you let out a pained breath, overcome by his plan for the future, by the actions he’s willing to do for it. By the very raw fact that he spent three hours trying to make that happen—make that come true for you. 

“Namjoon, I—”

“They said no, though. No matter how hard I pushed, no matter what I was willing to risk, to sacrifice. They said no. So I made a quick phone call and forbade them from ever entering our hotel.” 

Our hotel. 

You almost sob, touched by him, but a gust of the icy breath of winter seizes you and you visibly shudder. Namjoon takes a last drag of his addiction and, putting it out on the ashtray on the confined balcony, he closes its door. But the freshness grazes you still, grazes you with the allure of this too-good-to-be-true fantasy and while it feels nice momentarily—the futile, brand new dream—you settle on the contentment that it will never come true. 

And that’s okay. You were brought up having nothing. Having someone like Namjoon intertwined with your future doesn’t change it. You don’t need to have everything. It’s enough that you’re in Paris just for the prolonged weekend, even though you didn’t get to see the sparkling Eiffel Tower up close on your first night here. That was the only dream you ever had and you can die peacefully now. Knowing the reason behind his late arrival, it doesn’t disappoint you anymore that your dream was altered. As a matter of fact, you don’t consider it ruined any longer. Not when Namjoon tried his hardest to create a beautiful future for you and your closest. You regret being mad at him, regret hitting him with the flowers and you brim with the wish to gather them, fix them, and put the little what’s left of them in a vase. Cherish them like he cherishes you. Cherish him. 

Namjoon crouches at your feet, cradling your ankle. “Your mom would’ve had a house right next to ours. Our kids would visit her everyday and vice versa. The air would’ve done her good here. The change of scenery. It would’ve prolonged her life. She’d be happy.” 

You nod, believing him, your heart untouched by the weakening fire, tender, squeezing. A mist of liquid emotion pools at your eyes. “You spent three hours trying to make that become a reality.” 

It’s not a question, but rather an expression of your procession of his goodness. Of his selflessness. And all over again, you’re reminded of the way you grew close in your relation because of your poor mother, of the way you bonded. And in place of the fire, it’s love that blooms those hyacinths in your lungs back to life. 

Your mother would’ve loved Paris. Because you know how much she loved listening to you talk about your dream when she was healthy and you were a young schoolgirl, you’re certain she would’ve fallen in love with the stark difference that lines these history-wrought streets. 

Namjoon focuses his gaze on your bare foot, fondling his thumbs over your silky skin. Your declaration of his actions loosened the heft on his shoulders and he relaxes, leaning his temple against your knee, fleetingly. When he speaks, he looks up at you. A certain light, covered in pity, flickers in his eyes. “I didn’t do it on purpose. It just took that long and I had no idea. And when I checked the time once it was over, I googled when they turn off the lights. Knew I had some time to spare, so to fix my mistake for taking so long, I ran through these streets, trying to make it up to you. I thought I’d make it in time, but you let out your frustration on me, which is understandable. I was in such a hurry that I forgot to text you. I’m sorry.” 

The coolness of the growing flower buds in you fills you with such gentleness that it’s not relief that you feel upon hearing his explanation and apology. It’s love. A profound, sinking capacity of love for the man beneath you taking on the likeness of the stone that certain energies and events of life invariably minimalized you into. 

He’s the stone and you’re the mountain. 

And when you bolster his face in your hands, Namjoon releases a breath at the touch and you find that relief streaming in him, seeping color back into his cheeks. You’ll paint them redder. Feel obligated to do so. 

“I’m sorry for hitting you. You left me alone for so long and I had so many bad thoughts,” you say, internally cringing at your neediness and you would regret uttering your admission had he not rubbed your legs in such a reassuring manner that it revitalizes your body, guiding briskness into your veins. 

“I’m sorry that I missed it,” Namjoon says, subduedly, his hands warm like the fire that burned in you, giving you back your heat that you’re lacking. He kisses the top of your knee and your breath is but a vine of poison ivy inside your throat. Such tenderness, such healing gentleness, such pity that permeates your skin. He truly is regretful that he messed up and you want to weep. He doesn’t have to be, not anymore. “What kinda bad thoughts?” 

You feel your heart rotate on its axis and you stifle back your tears, taking a deep breath to be able to talk. “I thought you chose work over me. Thought your business had nothing to do with me. Thought you left me here all alone for selfish reasons.” 

Namjoon coos, a softened emotion screwing his face—eyes enlarging and a slight pout forming on his face. A leeway for your tears to spurt onto your cheeks, unabashedly, with nothing holding them back any longer. He cups your face, like you did, and he sweeps back that rivulet with his thumb. “I didn’t, baby. I didn’t. And I’m here. I’m here with you.” 

You nod and it’s all that you’re left to do because it’s the truth. He’s here. He’s come back. And he’s sorrowful that he let those thoughts plague your brain with such a small mistake. 

“Don’t go anywhere again,” you beg, hushedly, your voice breaking. “I’m sorry you worked so hard for nothing.” 

It’s the last straw for Namjoon because he straightens his form, guides you to stand up and he sets you down on his lap, pushing your legs onto the bed—holding you as if he were holding a child. 

And that’s precisely what you need at the moment. 

“It’s not over. Pick a place and we’ll go there. Start over. With you present this time. What are you dreaming of these days?” 

Your heart swells. Nothing has been flooding your dreamland as much as Paris was. Even that seemed unrealistic, let alone a much different place. It overcomes you and, peculiarly, stops you from crying. You feel like a spoiled girl getting what she wanted after she had a meltdown and, internally, you blame Namjoon for it. He spoils you. Exudes such overtones of fatherliness that makes a way for it to happen. Most naturally. 

“Paris has always been my dream. No other city,” you say and Namjoon clicks his tongue. A smile widens your mouth, liking the way he senses your custom of modesty, liking the way he dislikes it. You laugh, softly, through your nose. “I’ll think of something.” 

“That’s my nice girl.” 

Taken aback, you clutch the side of his neck. Namjoon is bathed in the orange light and it no longer causes bile to lodge in your esophagus. No, it sparks up something else. Something very rapid, spreading throughout your body. The energy shifts and it’s you who clicks their tongue. “What did I tell you about talking to me like that?” 

You move your hand to the middle of his throat, tightening your hold around his Adam’s apple, tipping his chin. Namjoon grins, hums, wraps his fingers around your wrist. 

“What did I tell you about choking me, hm?” 

A flashback flickers across your vision. One of the last time you were intimate in bed and he was rocking your shit in missionary, using your throat as a leverage. You mirrored him, as you usually do in these endeavors, and choked the air out of him, making him come prematurely. Namjoon scolded you until your ears turned red and refused to make you come. You had to bring yourself over that edge and you managed to squirt your love and your enjoyment of fucking with him all over his body. Namjoon made sure to feed you your elated essence, but he also made it very hard for you to swallow, telling you to hold it as he drilled your throat, making it trickle down the corners of your mouth. 

The memory effortlessly brings back the pulse in your sensitive parts and you begin to crave the repetition of that filthy rendezvous. Badly. 

And so you squeeze his throat. 

Namjoon squeaks your name. You laugh, ferally. 

That is until he pins you down. Hand on your throat this time, the other holding down both of your wrist, the petals sticking to the silk of his pants-clad knees on either side of you. You didn’t even catch the movement as he did it, his strength overbearing and so incomparable to yours. But you don’t feel like the amethyst. No, you feel like a mountain connected to another, to him. Two peaks staring at each other, grinning, your laughter unfaltering, even though it’s you who’s squeaking now. 

Elated, giddy, aroused, equal, your tears sunk deeply within your skin, giving life to your rhapsody, giving it the body it needs in order to come out. 

You love it when he’s like this. And you love that he’s come back to you. 

Of course you have the means to prolong it, to tease it out of him.

“I don’t really care when it turns me on this much,” you rasp, your smile glinting in the dimmed light, arching your back until your chest kisses his. Just once. “When it turns you on this much.” 

Truth, the epitome of pleasure. The corners of your mouth widen, all over again. 

You can’t help it. 

Namjoon cocks a brow, his mouth ends following the same directions, dimples poking holes in his cheeks. “Oh, so you don’t need to be reminded?” He mimics your intonation, angling his head.

You shake yours, eyes dipping to his clefts, teeth instinctively finding your bottom lip, biting down. You feel the heaviness of his stare and it urges you to bite down harder, the tension quickening your blood circulation. And it isn’t until you meet his adoring gaze that it stops, for a mere second, scattering tingles down every vein. And Namjoon resumes the flow by pressing a chaste kiss down onto your lips, lingering there. 

“I know you’re a nice girl and that you didn’t mean it, but I have to spank you for it, anyway. Do you understand?” He whispers against those pillows, each movement of his mouth brushing against yours, making you needy for more. 

You make a face. “But I did mean it. Meant it with everything in me.” 

Namjoon laughs, endearingly. “No, you didn’t, baby. Not when you know what I’m capable of doing to you. Or not doing to you.” 

You smirk, catching onto his game. He’ll disagree until you grow so frustrated that you burst, disobeying him to the point that he has to tame you. He wants to get you to the lowest point, because the lower you dig, the bigger treasure you find—the more you stimulate the brain, the chemistry, the bigger the pleasure. Namjoon is an intelligent man; knows what the fuck he’s doing and you’re so transfixed by it that you’ll let yourself be led into his little trap that he watches over. Just to please him because ultimately, you’ll be pleased beyond measure. 

You tip your chin and trace his lips with your own. “No, I did, because I love how whiny you get. Makes me wanna bruise my knees for you, take all of you down my throat until it hurts to speak.” 

Namjoon is so awestruck by your words that his mouth parts as he gawks down at you and he moans. There it is. That’s precisely what you wanted. 

“You know,” he starts, pausing to swallow. “I had different plans with you in terms of this. Good fucking plans. But you just ruined them.” 

The precipice of what that could be hangs over your clavicles and suddenly you brim with the need to know what it was. What his smart, business brain came up with. And not only that—you want it to happen, your curiosity piqued, blaming the choice of words he used, the work-tinged colors he splattered them with. 

“What plans?” 

He straightens, setting your hands free. “Take off your dress.” 

You’re taken aback. “Namjoon.” You stress his name. “What plans?” 

“No, I’m not telling you. You’re gonna take off this dress and you’re gonna take what I give you.” 

You frown. Your curiosity won’t let up. “Namjoon, please.” 

The pretty word curls his mouth. Perhaps, you’ve softened his stubbornness. You surely hope so, but to no avail. 

He gets on his feet and swivels you onto your stomach, fingers finding your zipper and dragging it down. Being manhandled like this causes butterflies to swarm not just in your tummy, but over your arms and legs as well, fluttering all over, making your head spin and again, you can’t help the smile blossoming. In the middle of winter, spring opens in you at the touch of his dominance. 

Spreading his hands over your back, sinking his warmth beneath the skin, he leans in, mouth at your ear. “What word do you use when you say please?” 

You know what he wants you to say, but, peculiarly, you’re in such a good mood that you crave to disobey. Just for the fun of it. Just for the pain of it. 

“Pretty please?” you chirp, pursing your lips to hide the slyness of your smile. Delighted, excited. 

Namjoon pulls your hair, causing your head to tip, harshly, pain shooting up your scalp. Your tongue runs over your bottom lip, moaning almost soundlessly, only to realize that he can see you. Your pleasure wasn’t private. Not at all. Never is when he’s involved. 

You flick your eyes up at him, meeting his darkened stare, and you flutter your lashes at him, playing the stupid girl when you’re well educated by him in reality. 

Maybe you do need to be reminded, after all. Again, for the fun of it. For the pain of it. 

To distract him from his failure. Help him forget. You know how it gets to him. Deem he deserves it; deem it’s a duty of your fiancée privileges. 

“Pretty please is an addition. Something to help me have a sliver of pity for you. You seem to have forgotten who I am to you.” 

Oh, he’s a myriad of things. 

Mountain. Stability. Dependability. A most grand picture of beauty. Of intelligence. The sun and the moon, his brain cells the planets in the universe. The second heart you’ve grown over the trajectory of your relationship. The pulse of your emotions, especially the one between your legs.

He’s everything in your life while you remain your own person.

And only Namjoon would have achieved something like that. 

“No, I haven’t. You’re my husband,” you say, allure dripping in your tone, wiggling your hips, causing the fabric of your dress to ripple over your bum. 

Namjoon coos, quite pleased with the title, and he pats your behind before he grabs you by your waist and pulls you to your feet—flush against his body and the rock solid situation in his pants. You sway your hips, the gasp that slips out of your mouth goes almost unnoticed by you as you’re entirely focused on his hardness. You look down to follow the movement of his hands like a cat. They drift upwards—from your ribs, over the swell of your breasts until his long fingers reach the straps of your dress and drag them down, exposing you, exposing your arousal evident on your stiffened nipples. You could blame the cool temperature hanging in the room for it, but both of you know that would be a lie. A fat lie that your husband doesn’t deserve, not when he’s so dominant, so strict and so fucking provocative, spreading tendrils of heated life in you with each subtle touch. 

Subtle? Oh, Namjoon gropes your tits, rolling your nubs between his slender fingers, softly moaning behind you. And then he pinches them, coaxing your squeaks out and you feel that familiar, wet warmth pooling in your core, mingling with the throbbing sensation that intoxicates you. Enough for you to clasp your hands over his and tighten his hold, squirming against him, loving—loving terribly the sparks of pleasure coursing down your figure. Loving the feeling of dampness against your panties that’s nothing but evidence of the way your body savors his special attention. 

“Husband, that’s right. Your fucking husband,” Namjoon murmurs, pressing a kiss just beneath your ear, causing your head to knock back against his chest and make space for him, inviting him to continue—and he does. Places tiny little kisses down to your shoulder, where he licks the skin before he sucks it into his mouth. “But there’s something else you call me when I treat you this good. What is it? Think.” 

Those kisses and his command for the wheels in your mind to quicken alone make you give in, make you submit to his craving to call you by that filthy, rightful title. Even more so when he pinches your nipples again. You whine, feeling your neediness for more taking greater highs in your system, feeling your own body yearning to scream out that name. 

“Daddy,” you cry out, desperately, awfully. How well it fits him, how well he deserves to be called by something like that—how gratified you sense your body to be right now. No poetic string of verses could ever manage to do it justice. 

Namjoon hums, his pleasure deepening. “That’s it. That’s a good girl. I love it when you use that brain of yours.” 

You blush. A tableau unseen by Namjoon yet, for he busies himself with undressing you. Your garment gets plopped onto the mattress, your underwear along with it. A silky strip that hardly covers anything. You’re bare while he remains fully dressed and something about that turns you wild. The silkiness of his slacks, the cotton of his white shirt against your skin—such softness, such balminess, such caress for the undomesticated freedom that you profoundly feel within. You sigh at the sensation, your lingering curiosity bubbling in you, slowly rising to the tip of your tongue. 

“Will you tell me now? What you planned?” 

Namjoon chuckles, humorlessly. “You think you’ve earned it? No, baby.” He runs his hand down your ribs and your tummy, halting at your mound. His middle finger can nearly reach your swollenness and you quiver in response. “You’ve got spanks to take first. Maybe then I’ll tell you.” 

You whine, softly, and Namjoon grabs your chin and turns your head so you can look at him. A mad, mad smile adorns his shadowed, taut face and you realize there’s pent-up frustration still swirling in him. One you will do anything to help him steam off. 

Anything. 

Anything for your husband. 

And so, by your own whim, you lay down onto the bed, anticipating the pleasure of pain. Namjoon lets out a sound of approval and you sense the vibrations of his nearness as he props a knee on the bedding, flattening down a violet petal. He fixes your position, lifts your bum in the air, and he kisses your bare cheek with all the world’s affection, sucking the skin, nibbling on it before smoothing the pain with a swipe of his tongue. 

“You’re my nice girl, aren’t you?” Namjoon questions and you nod, but that’s not good enough of an answer for him. He spanks you, harshly, coaxing a hiss out of you before the pleasure draws in and you let out a breath, turning your head, so you can have a perfect view of him. Namjoon gives you another chance to fix your mistake. “Aren’t you?”

Licking your lips, you make it your focal point to be good for him. “I’m your nice girl.” 

Humming, he caresses your back to praise you. Spanks you with the same tenderness, rubbing the flesh to alleviate the faint sting. The love you carry for him grows with each brush of his calloused hand and you stifle back your needy sounds, your little whines and sobs of a small girl very seldom loved by an even smaller number of male figures in her life. 

Most strangely, it heightens the experience. 

“You’re my wife, aren’t you?” Namjoon purrs, his fingers sneaking to the place that yearns for him more than anywhere else, finding you bedewed, dripping as he rubs your folds—just touching you there without giving you any friction. 

The touch is so nice that you can’t help but mewl most happily. 

“Yes, I’m your wife, Daddy.” 

Namjoon moans, the pads of his fingers sneaking over to your clit and stroking it. You arch your back, your noises rising in volume—the wetness, the pleasure in tandem. Your body begins to shudder in reaction, mimicking his motions, the pressure coiling in the lowest of your tummy. 

“Good, good. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. You’re my good little wife, but you were bad, weren’t you? You were a bad little wife?” 

He quickens his speed, testing your focus and your mind spins again as the pressure deepens. From his words, from the very gravity of the title ‘wife’, from the very pleasure stemming from the principle of being bad, and you stutter a few times before you’re able to get out the full sentence in a perfect flow. 

“I was your bad little wife.” 

Namjoon growls, liking it just the same. “And what did you do?” 

He slows down, stalling your climax, keeping you halfway from the edge, right where he wants—the pressure of his touch light and gentle. Letting you work your brain. 

You smile up at him, from the clouds of shadows and petals you’re surrounded by. Namjoon deepens the eye contact, returning the smile. Your heart thuds in your chest. 

“I choked you.” 

Clefts of dimples—you, yourself, choke out a breath. Another one, too, when Namjoon spanks you hard, his fingers wet and sticky on your skin, the pain tingling all over your body, beckoning out more of your slick for him. 

“That’s right, you choked me, even though I punished you for it quite severely the last time,” he rasps and spanks you again, again and again. You hiss and flatten your lips to stifle it back, grasping the bed sheets to overcome that burn—and overcome your craving for more. 

You’re at a crossroad. You find yourself wanting to be bad in order to get spanked again, but at the same time you want to be good, so he tells you what he planned for you. Your fucked out brain can’t decide which side is better, but when Namjoon spanks you again—he reminds you that it doesn’t matter at all. You’re getting punished either way while the goal is to tell you. 

Such a good, intelligent husband. And you tell him. 

“You’re so good to me, baby,” you whisper, your knuckles white as you’re grasping the sheets with all your might. “I’m sorry for being bad. I’m sorry for choking you, but I love it when you spank me.” 

Namjoon chuckles, warmly, spanking your clit once in affection, drawing out your squeaks. 

Truth, the epitome of pleasure. All over again. 

Close to your ear now, he kisses your cheek, his body heat enveloping you in an embrace. “My naughty little wifey loves it when Daddy punishes her. Loves to do the bad things Daddy doesn’t like just so he spanks her. That’s it, isn’t it?” 

You moan out, puckering your lips against the sheets and Namjoon half-kisses your pout, humming against you. He lifts you up onto your knees with your torso upright and he cradles your face. Waits for your answer. 

You’re more than happy to douse yourself in that truth. 

“Yeah, I love it. I love being bad for you.” 

He descends one hand to your bum while the other wraps around your waist and pulls you flush to the hardness of his body. And as he expresses to you how much he liked your words with guttural moans, he spanks you. Again and again, your head tipped back, eyes wandering in the darkened maze of his, where you lose count of how many you’ve taken. 

“But you do realize that’s a big no-no, don’t you?” 

You nod. “I do, Daddy.” 

A hum. “Will you do it again?” 

You whisk your irises up, thinking about it while already knowing the answer in your heart. “Probably.” 

Namjoon laughs and kisses you, feverishly. Moves his mouth against yours, parts it, so he can slip his tongue inside. Plays a game of chase while both of your noises and his interlock and create a music that echoes around the hotel room. He adds a high-pitched tone into the song, yours, as he spanks you again, playfully this time, grabbing the flesh of your bum with both of his hands now, kneading it, drawing it closer until you feel his aroused length against your tummy. 

Moans, squeaks, skin slapping and lip smacking. A song of beauty that will resonate within your body, mind and soul for days to come. 

And another thing. 

“God, I love you so much,” Namjoon whispers, bringing his hands to your ribs until his thumbs brush across your nipples. 

That, too, will ring in your veins. 

You melt. Become nothing but liquid devotion in his hands. And as he begins to focus on your neck, you roll your eyes back and resound your love back to him. 

“I love you, Namjoon.” 

He sighs against your collarbone, mutedly. “You love me?” 

You sink your fingers into his short hair, kissing his temple. “I love you so fucking much.” 

When he emerges with puffy, reddened lips, you can see it on his face that he did it again. Made you say the words he wanted to hear. And so you say it again, again and again. Each time with more intensity, with more verve, embedding it into his lips, his cheeks, jawline, his chin and his neck. All skin you can reach until you stumble upon the cotton of his shirt, at which you frown. 

“Take this off. Now.” 

And he listens. Loosens his tie, places it upon the petals on the bedding. Begins to unbutton his shirt. All while staring you down. And all you can do is watch him in awe, licking your lips, hungry for him, hungry for the intelligent plan he’s keeping from you. 

Once he bends at the waist to get his arms out of the sleeves, you press on the matter. 

“Tell me,” you say, softly, despite the tension of your curiosity. “Tell me what you planned.” 

Namjoon tilts his head and light flickers across his eyes, fires of stars—the ones that twinkled on the Eiffel Tower before his arrival. You spent your entire life dreaming about seeing it when it stands right in front of you, half naked. Has been standing before your eyes for years. 

Your mouth parts at the tenderness of it all and emotion bubbles within you. 

Sizzles, ferociously, when Namjoon reveals his secret. 

“Speeding down the road to this hotel, I saw it before my eyes. What I was going to do to you,” he starts, unbuckling his belt and sliding it off the loops. Your heart thumps, violently, against your ribcage, longing to jump onto his big palms. He pauses his motions to concentrate on his words. “I was going to apologize. Tell you what happened. And then I was going to make it up to you. Undress you, keep only the shoes on you were going to wear.” He looks over to the side, where your black YSL heels have been waiting for hours to be worn. Before he even asks if those were the ones, you nod your head and Namjoon fetches them and puts them on your feet. “I was going to have these digging into my back while I ate you out. While I would transfer us to the park before the Eiffel Tower with my words.” Securing the straps, he straightens, knees on either side of yours, and grabs his tie, smoothing it out with his thumbs. “I was going to blindfold you. Make you imagine you were there with me. No one else but us. On a blanket. Describe to you in great detail what we were doing as I’d be balls deep in you. Here but there at the same time.” 

Your throat dries as you take in his words and there’s only a few words you’re capable of saying. Your eyes flick to the tie, then back up to his dark chocolate irises, wet with a glint of deep arousal, one that you feel pulsing in you just as well. You hook your arms on his hips and nod at the slender fabric in his grasp.

A man of the world’s intelligence. How attractive, how alluring. Your shadowed cloud swathes you tighter and you spill with the need to be fucked. Fucked with that smartness. That capability. All wrapped around that big cock of his. 

You need it. Won’t live if he doesn’t ruin you with it. 

“Do it,” you choke out, swallowing with great difficulty. “Please.” 

Fingers curling around his belt loops, it doesn’t go unnoticed the way his manhood twitches in the tight confines of his slacks and the sound you let out at the sight would be embarrassing if he wasn’t so endeared by it, caressing your face with his thumb, lifting it so you pay attention to what he wants to say to you. 

“Are you comfortable with me blindfolding you? We’ve never done that before.” 

Even though your trust wavered merely an hour ago, it happened so it would get strengthened at this very moment. You don’t detect any no’s echoing within you, any worries or fears, anything that would cause you to stand in the way of this endeavor unfolding. It excites you, the newness, the principle of placing not just your trust, but your control, your senses and your safety in his hands. Allowing him to proceed with his would solely mean that you deepen what you already practice in your sex life, take it to another level. And these things are of great importance to Namjoon. He never disappointed you—never failed, never missed. 

He takes care of you. Through and through. From the beginning to the end. Until you close your eyes, only to take it from the top the following morning. 

Your trust in terms of that could never waver. It’s impossible. It’s so strong, so held steadily that it would never come across your mind, even. 

And so you give him your consent. 

“Yes, I am. I’m excited to do this. I want this.” 

Namjoon strokes your hair, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. “All right, my love, but remember that we can stop anytime. I’ll take it off as soon as you say the word. Tell me you understand.” 

And along with your consent, you give him a big smile. “I understand, baby.” 

He kisses you, stealing a thousand tiny kisses more in the same lip lock. “That’s a good girl. So smart. Are you thirsty?” 

You fold your hands on your lap and nod your head. The tie slung over his broad shoulder, Namjoon walks over to the mini bar, fishes out a bottle of ice cold water and opens it for you, tipping it to your mouth, encouraging you to drink.

The coldness streaming down your stomach only enlivens your arousal and it seems as though the matter is naked to the eye as Namjoon bites his lip at the sight of you, screwing the bottle shut and placing it on the bedside table. You tug at the tie, your eyes crinkling as your smile simply can’t leave your mouth alone and Namjoon hums out a laugh at your excitement. 

“Ready?” 

Your whole figure is fluttering, of course you’re ready—and you tell him. “Born ready.” 

It prolongs his expression of lighthearted endearment. “Good. Remember to stop me when it gets too much. Close your eyes.” Obeying, the softness of the silk grazes, fondly, your eyelids as pitch-blackness encompasses you. Namjoon ties the thick wisp at the back of your head, careful not to intermingle any strands of your hair into the knot, attentive enough not to pull it too tight and not too loose either, causing you to ache for him so badly that you almost want to scream. “How does it feel?” 

Uncanny. You hear his voice and, peculiarly, it’s louder in your ears, although he’s speaking in the same volume as he was before he blindfolded you. You sense something missing from you—and it’s a feeling that you detect in the pit of your stomach and at the ends of your abruptly numb fingertips. 

You clench those digits, but the sensation remains. It is only when you raise them and bump into the sturdiness of his chest that you perceive what it truly is. 

Groundedness is what you’re missing. 

The softness of his skin brings back a sense of realness back to you. When you drift your palms up to his shoulders and hold onto them, you feel real; you feel like a person that has limbs, that has someone right there with them to look out for them because aloneness is what comes with the darkness of the sight and that is absolutely terrifying. 

You cling to his neck, causing him to stumble into you, and you sigh in relief at the feeling of his weight. He goes to lift himself up, but you stop him—tightening your headlock, pressing the side of your face against his, eating that realness as you trace your lips against his cheek, run your hand across the back of his head. 

He’s here with you and he’s not going anywhere. With that stability, you can walk further in this rendezvous because you’re not alone at all, despite the fact it’s what your eyesight is telling you. 

“It feels really strange. I need you close. I need to feel you. To know I’m not by myself,” you whisper, sensing your chest to become lighter once the truth is out. Your naivety and excitement didn’t expect this to happen, but you’re comfortable with trying this out and feel where it takes you.

“Do you want to stop?” Namjoon asks and you can identify where he roots that question on your body. Right there upon your left collarbone, where his breath seems warmer than ever before and where he begins to scatter tiny kisses. 

That thrills you—the identification of where he is, the loudness of his voice, the depth of his touch and the unusually scorching body heat he radiates as all of your other senses are heightened and you want more of it. You crave to know what it would feel like to have his tongue on your sensitive parts like this. What it would feel like to have him drilling you. 

That alone makes you shiver with something beyond excitement. With something feral and undomesticated, again. 

Another thing for him to tame. 

Your body sings to him. To the stars. To the tower. And Namjoon can hear it, incorporating his tongue into his not so chaste kisses in response. 

“No, I don’t want to stop. I want you to keep going,” you say at last, caressing the wholeness of his back, reveling in the discovery of his muscles, his shoulder blades. It feels so new, so different. You quake all over. 

Namjoon pulls himself upwards, nudges his nose against yours and you smile. “Okay, baby. I’m right here.” He kisses both of your eyelids, the right one first before the left one. You feel at one with your heart as it palpitates; feel as though you were inside your body. “Fuck, your eyelashes are so long that I can see them curled around the tie. You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

You blush, the heat of your cheeks akin to a blanket pulled to your nose. Such coziness. You hum and try to find his lips, but he’s out of reach. You crane your neck until it hurts, giving up with a huff. 

“God, don’t do that to me. That was so cute,” Namjoon husks and moans when you pull him down and kiss him at last. 

It’s at this moment that you thank the God that he mentioned for writing into the Book of Life that Namjoon was to be late and miss your dream because this kiss does more than make up for it. This kiss creates new dreams that begin to swirl within you. Dreams of the Mediterranean sea, the sand and sun rays so hot that they bronze your skin. Dreams of sultry nights, black dresses and flats for all the roads you shall walk upon while following the starlight, hand in hand with Namjoon dressed in linen of the same color. 

Dreams of Asia, but not where you first opened your eyes in as a newborn. The western side of Asia, the one you’ve never seen and never dreamed of until now. 

Your heart enlarges and you overspill with so many emotions that they trickle out of your hidden tear ducts. Newness, possibilities—for both you and Namjoon, but mainly for him. For his happiness. 

He calls your name, fearfully, but you shake your head. “What’s wrong?” 

You feel his fingers sneaking over to the knot of the tie, but you stop him. “I know where we’re going next time.” 

His breath of relief becomes the new cloud you rest upon. “You scared me. Don’t cry, baby.” 

You fondle his wrist. “Namjoon, we’re going to Turkey.” 

Silence. Then, a kiss. “Is that where you want to go?” 

A nod. That’s where your soul will escape to once you lay down to sleep. “That’s the place I’m dreaming of.” 

A kiss on your neck. A hum. “Then, that’s where we’ll go.” A stripe of his tongue down to your collarbones—you feel your slick drip down onto the bedding. “Do you remember where we are right now?” 

An inhale of breath. “Paris.” 

Namjoon sucks the supple skin above your nipple. “That’s right. We’re at the park in front of the Eiffel Tower in the middle of summer. You’re sat on my lap like this.” He manhandles you to the position he describes and you gasp, not expecting it. “My back is facing it while you have a perfect view of the twinkling lights. Can you see them?” If your memory serves you well, he’s painting a picture of reality as well and you’re so touched by it that another, secret tear rolls down your cheek. 

“Yes, they’re shining so brightly. They’re so pretty, too. You’re making my dream come true. Thank you.” 

Wetness against your sternum. Namjoon must be crying as well and the realization makes you sob. Makes you find his lips again and kiss him. 

“I love you,” Namjoon croaks out and you break, holding onto him so tightly that you clench all of your muscles. 

“I love you, Namjoon.” 

A final kiss before the continuation of his depiction of the dream. 

“Nobody is around. They’ve all gone to sleep. It’s just us, the Tower and the moon. You’re so beautiful, so lost in the pleasure as I’m kissing you like this.” He shows you by resuming leaving kisses along your breasts. “And when I do this—” He licks over your nipple, sucking it into his mouth. You whimper, flexing your eyelids at the sensation swarming in your core. “You make pretty sounds just like that, but I tell you to be quiet. We don’t wanna wake up those people and ruin the fun. And you’re so good that you listen, taking the pleasure so well.” 

He sets you down onto the bed, moves down to your tummy, placing the rest of his kisses there. 

“Then, I lay you down on the blanket. You’re naked for my eyes only and I spread your legs.” His hands follow his words, lifting your thighs and pinning them down. “I blow on your needy little pussy and you shiver so beautifully for me. I can see you shining for me, shining brighter than the lights and I give it to you.” 

There you feel it. The lick of his tongue on your clit and you shudder, moan so loudly that it reverberates down your body, the pleasure unlike any other you ever had the grace to experience. You roll your body into his mouth and Namjoon moans in tandem with you, even more so when your heel digs into his shoulder blade like he dreamed of.

“I lick your clit in circles and I feel you come alive on my tongue, so I pick up the pace.” 

You chase the movement as he does, reveling in it to the point that you curl your body, rising yourself to your elbows and grasping the nape of his neck, knocking your head back once he prods a finger into your heat. 

“I need more of it. I need to feel you around my fingers, so I stretch you out.” 

He adds another digit, fucking you diligently, and you whine out his name, squeezing his neck, your thumb pressing the spot above his Adam’s apple. 

“But my baby is doing something she knows is making my cock needy for her. She’s choking me, making me so fucking hard for her, so I pin her hands down.” 

He rips your hand from his neck and pushes it down onto the bedding, holding it in place with his forearm as he rounds an arm around your tummy, fingers spreading your folds apart from this angle, leaning his weight on it, freeing up space for his other hand to fuck you harder. 

You plop down onto the bedding, unable to resist him. And with your submission comes your orgasm, the rope uncoiling right at the place where the pulse on his wrist thumps. 

And your dreams explode across the blackness of your vision. 

“And you come like this. On my tongue. Around my fingers and I go fucking crazy for you, lick up everything you gave me. So fucking crazy that I turn you around and take you like this.” 

You’re glad for the way he worded this part because you don’t jump when he does swivel you and licks over the red marks over your bum. He prepared you. The coolness of the petals on your skin causes you to whimper and you move your hand in effort to grab one of them. Namjoon settles between the sides of your thighs and when he sees what you’ve found, he chuckles, taking it from you, turning you halfway and brushing it against your cheek. 

You gasp, liking the heightened softness, and you purr. Seeing your reaction, Namjoon drifts it down your neck, your collarbone until he reaches the peak of your breast. And when he circles that stiffened nub—an endeavor just between you, outside of the dream—your whimpers have so much tension and opulent seductiveness to them that you feel his bare manhood twitch against the line of your bum. 

It drives you to thrash your hand until you find him, too, and you wrap your hand around his thick manhood, pumping him as he stimulates your nipple like this, your position—halfway on your side, with your leg crossed, propped on the bedding, brings friction to your clit as your body moves where the pleasure wants it. 

Namjoon breathes hard, groaning gutturally, and you could almost come like this. 

“Fuck, Daddy, it feels so good,” you whine and it causes Namjoon to turn you fully onto your back and take that petal down to your wet clit. “Oh, my God.” 

Faint, yet so nice. You tremble, feeling the petal drifting over your folds, your lips, gathering your slick over your heat. And when Namjoon rubs circles on your clit with it, the membrane of the petal so fucking slippery now that it’s coated with your wetness, his title falls from your lips like the rain that keeps those flowers alive out there in Paris. 

“Keep fucking me with your wrist,” Namjoon rasps and you moan, loving to be ordered around, loving being told what to do. 

You fix your mistake of neglecting him while lost in the new delight, concentrating on his equally wet tip as you tighten your hold, pumping him swiftly, his foreskin closing around him in tandem with your movement coaxing his growls out that envelop you in firelight, hotter than anything you’ve ever felt. 

Even gripping him you perceive to be different and as that firelight flickers vastly across the night you see, splattering it with makeshift stars that Namjoon calls to creation with each of his deep sounds, your orgasm comes as an explosion that brings color to his art. 

Purples, yellows, reds and pinks. Stars that brim with colors. Such paintwork of beauty that Namjoon strums to life on your clit and your scream gets muffled by the sheets as he turns you back onto your tummy without withdrawing his hand. 

He begins to kiss your shoulder, knowing you need a minute before he can fill you up. 

“My pretty girl, my wife,” he moans against your skin, marking you there. “I’m gonna fuck you with that petal on your clit. With the rest of them clinging to your beautiful body like that. Gonna fuck you nice and hard against them.” You whimper your vulgarities, so out of it—so intoxicated by the picture, looking forward to it. “You came so well on my fingers. With the petal. Fuck, I’m gonna ruin you just for that. And for the way you made me forget where we were.” 

You laugh and your stomach flips, love hormones coursing in your veins like the strongest drug. And you laugh even harder when it dawns on you that you’ve also forgotten. 

“I don’t remember either,” you sputter between your giggles, contagious as Namjoon laughs as well, brushing your hair back to one side to kiss your cheek. 

“How are you feeling? Has it gotten too much, hm?” 

He takes the time to check up on you, instead of picking up where he left off and, fuck, you dissolve, becoming one with the petals—no edges to you, only liquid affection. 

You’ve gotten used to the darkness. No traces of fear or uneasiness can be found trickling in your system—as a matter of fact, you can’t wait to be fucked, can’t wait to find out how it’ll feel once he’s inside you. The way he’s talking to you, constantly touching you and making it known to you that he’s present with you doesn’t let the previous disturbing feeling to sidle up to you and you’re terribly, terribly grateful. 

“I feel great. I want you inside me, baby. I’m ready.” 

Namjoon growls, biting into the skin of your shoulder until you whimper, kissing the pain away. Rubs his petal-clad fingers on your clit, prolonging your noises. The pleasure begins to build up, the colors you’ve seen stacking back on top of each other and you sigh, nuzzling your face into the sheets, most comfortable. 

He cradles your jaw, though. Makes you look forward. Augments the dream, resuming. 

“You’re looking at the Tower and I’m holding you like this so your neck doesn’t cramp up. I’m inside you, just like you wanted.” 

Namjoon merges the reality into the retelling, creating something more expanse than this world can bear and you’re awestruck. He sinks himself into your wonder, knees on either side of you as you lay flat on your tummy, your bum lifted a little, heels dangling off of the bed. 

Your eyes flutter beneath the tie as his girth stretches you and the colors you see are adjacent to the picture he paints. They blossom into shapes, swirly edges that grow into flowers and cling to the Tower like the violet petals cling to your body. Namjoon pulls out and gives you a long stroke and more flowers bloom, hanging by the lights. You lose your breath, the vibrancy of the pleasure so heavenly that you lose track of time, day and space as well, floating in that dream that the reality you thought about ripped away from you once he bottoms out. 

You can’t even hear yourself. Can only hear him as your senses wrap around him. 

“I’m not choking you. I’m not giving you a taste of your own delicious poison; I’m just holding you like this, helping you see your dream alive in front of your eyes. I look at you and I can’t help it. You’re illuminated by those lights, yet shining brighter. Kissed by the moon so much that I get jealous. Can you see that fucker up above?” 

As if he drew the planet with his finger, it appears in your vision as soon as he pulls out again and fills you in all entirety in one swift, but hard motion. And it’s now that you hear yourself scream as your clit rubs against his fingers flat against it with that collision. 

“Fuck, Namjoon, I—I can’t take it. It’s too good.” 

“I didn’t ask you if you could take it. I asked you something else,” he husks, moving his mouth against your neck. You feel your eyes rolling back underneath your closed eyelids and you moan, his hips picking up the speed. “You can take it and you will. Tell me, baby. Can you imagine that moon in your vision?” 

It’s right there, beaming at you, but you can’t focus, not when you can feel his cock in your throat. He huffs against you, overcome just the same, resuming his circles on your clit and you’re dead. 

“You’re so deep, Daddy,” you utter in one breath. “So good, fuck.” 

Soaked flowers. Stars flickering more quicker. White dots joining in, along with hot flashes. You’re face to face with your orgasm. 

“Focus, baby,” Namjoon scolds, voice straining nearing you closer, falling in step with you the more you clench your walls against him. 

“Can’t. Gonna come.” 

“Come, then,” he encourages, drilling you harder into the mattress, your clit yet again rubbing against his flat fingers. “Let go and give it to me like the nice girl you are. Come for me, baby.” 

Fireworks shoot through that picture and you cling to it as you come around him. Namjoon praises you through it all, darkening those flowers that surround it and your orgasm convulses through you, lasting as long as the flying colors bursting through the night-tinged sky. And white gushes in as he loses himself in your climax, his own triggered and he stuffs you with it, fucking you through it until the bed makes such terrible sounds that he stills, letting you milk it out of him. 

Panting, Namjoon swivels you halfway around while still buried inside you. “I’m gonna take off the blindfold now. Keep your eyes closed, baby.” 

You listen and he flings it off, kissing you, ravagedly, whimpering into your mouth. Exhaustion seeps so deeply inside you that you can barely reciprocate the energy of the movement of his mouth and with one last peck, he lets you breathe. 

When you open your eyes, it’s not the light that stings your pupils, but the exhilarated, flushed and content sight of Namjoon, his chest heaving, glistening with sweat. You blink a few times to get used to the beauty, touching him all over, spreading your love for him everywhere you can. 

“That was so perfect,” you whisper, sleepily. “Thank you. Thank you for making my dream come true. For making it better than I ever dreamed of. I love you, Joonie.” 

He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles—with bruised, puffy, reddened lips that make you weak. 

“I love you.” 

You lay like this for quite some time, stroking each other’s skin, enjoying the rest and the silence. Namjoon takes off your heels then, massaging your feet as if they were in pain and you smile down at him, fondly. 

“Like hell, I’d let you wear these to the park.” 

You laugh through your nose, your love for him blooming, and he carries you in the shower. 

You join him on the balcony later, sharing a cigarette with him, wearing matching, thick and warm hotel bathrobes to protect you from winter’s cold. You look up at the moon as you take a drag and send your thank you to God for the contended joy that clothes your heart. Namjoon pulls you in, kissing the top of your head. 

“So, Turkey next time?” he asks, inhaling your vanilla scent from your body wash that you brought along. 

You sigh and life overflows from you. “In the summer. No business, just vacation. Just us. And if business does find you there, it’ll find me, too. It’ll be different this time.” 

Namjoon presses his mouth against your forehead, sinks his words there. “I’d marry you right now if I could.” 

Tears prick at your waterline, your throat aching. “If I pray hard enough, she’ll get better by spring,” you say, voice wobbling, speaking of your poor mother. You couldn’t get married without her—it’s the sole reason why your wedding is left in the hands of fate. 

“We’ll bring her to Turkey, then. I’ll make sure to tell her to pack her hanbok and I’ll marry you there. What do you say?” 

Rivulets of tears stream down your face and you look up at him, catching the same liquid lining his eyes. You nod, your mouth rounding in a pout. 

“Perfect,” you whisper. 

Namjoon gives you the last kiss of the night, sealing that plan shut and you believe, with everything in you, that he will bring it into reality. 

You trust him. 

Forever. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[obsessedwrhys]

Can we have a part 2 Deadpool reader with the boys and maybe soldier boy too❓❓ if you want to of course

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Boys x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader's origin will be explained underneath, reader is still an asshole lol that comes with the character, mention about killing,death,gore, weed, drugs, Reader is gn!!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the seven, kiss kiss <3

Origin:

Quick summary, when you were born, your parents had agreed with Vought to have you be pumped full of Compound V so you could grow up and be a hero working under them, but the problem was when you were around 7, they changed their mind so Vought ended up sending several people to come to your house to settle the matter.

Your whole family was massacred in the living room during thanksgiving and when they tried to capture you. You were able to run away. Homeless and living on the street, you grew up in a life of crime, depending on nobody but yourself. Make sense? No? Good! Let's start now.

BUTCHER

To him, you were like a fly that won't leave him alone.

How he knew you was through Mallory, she thought you were okay and fit for the job since you hated Vought just as much.

Obviously he didn't like you once you were introduced to him and the two (M.M and Frenchie)

"No way am I lettin' a supe join us"

":("

Though after what happened to Mallory's grandchildren, the gang pretty much dispersed but wherever Butcher went, you followed. Since he was the only person you trusted... and also enjoy annoying the shit out of.

He'd head inside a club, relieved he hadn't seen you for the past few days so he decided to grab a drink by the bar to unwind.

"Whiskey" He said with his eyes looking around, paranoia shown on his face.

Once his drink was served, he would look back to find your eyes smiling at him, you were wearing a bartender disguise over your red suit.

"Did you miss me?"

"Oh christ..."

When you heard word that he was gathering back the team, you had to be there. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't?

Undoubtedly he had to admit, there were times where he was grateful to have you on the team but there were also other times he regretted it.

For example, that time when you guys needed to sneak into a lab to get something and the goal was to stay quiet but even that simple rule was hard for you to follow.

"Room's up ahead. (Y/N) I need you to—"

"Heads up!" You said as you threw a bomb at the metal door.

The explosion causing the alarm to turn on and it had the whole lab now on high alert. You shrug innocently when Butcher glared at you like he wanted to tear you apart.

Also, you enjoy constantly pissing him off. You can't die so you don't really care if he'll kill you for it.

"Maybe, if you didn' press the fuckin' button, we wouldn't have to come bac' to save yer ass from the guards"

"OOH GOD SAVE THE QUEEEN!! Please, cry me a fucking river. I got us the target didn't I?"

"He's dead"

"Well you weren't being specific when you said to capture him"

But it's fine, all his frustration will be solved once he uses you as bait. He knows you can't die but hey, it makes him feel slightly better watching you get shot at.

Despite your ups and downs, he appreciates you. When the team would turn against him on his insane journey for revenge, he always found you the only one still standing by his side. You're loyal and he likes that.

Compatibility? 75%

HUGHIE

You treat him like a child.

No seriously you baby talk him sometimes and it annoys him

"Awwwww is little hughie angry?"

"Stop..."

"Does baby want his milky?"

Since he's pretty much the only person who isn't that exposed to crime as the others, he's terrified 100% everytime when he's paired up to do any dirty work with you.

"Now listen buddy, you better start talking or I'm gonna shoot" You said, gun raised at the man who seemed to be begging you to spare his life in a language you didn't speak.

"I don't think he speaks English"

"Ah shit... ENGLISH!! SPEAK!! ABCDEFG??!"

"How is shouting in English gonna make him understand?"

"Eh, you're right"

BANG

"WHY'D YOU SHOOT HIM??!"

"Well did you expect me to pull out Duolingo and start taking classes?!"

You had to admit, it was a pain in the ass each time he starts giving you the cold shoulder whenever he gets mad at you for doing something terrible. It was like his way of guilt tripping you so you always try to apologise in your own ways.

"Hey..." You said, handing him ice cream.

"...I uh... I don’t like Strawberry ice cream... I thought I told you that"

"God you're so ungrateful!!"

Since he was such a scaredy cat, you try to tone down your craziness a bit. For the sake of him not going into cardiac arrest.

"(Y/N) STOP!! She has nothing to do with this!! She was tricked" Hughie grabbed you by the arm to pull your gun away from the innocent woman.

You turn your head to look at him, then at the woman, then at him again, then the woman, then him again.

"Ugh finnnne... you're boring..."

However, he does appreciate you trying to be a better person. Even you had to admit, after you met him and became friends. You noticed yourself being less brutal than you used to be. The thought keeps you awake at night and it scares the shit out of you.

But oh well, how could you ever say no to those scared little puppy eyes?

Compatibility? 55%

FRENCHIE

He's like your hype man which is concerning.

Not because you're not afraid to get the job done but also because you always have his back.

"Well... I need some gunpowder but I've run out of them" Frenchie said, telling Butcher that the plan was most likely not gonna happen.

"Hold on" You said with the typical comical ☝🏻 gesture before heading into a different room. Everyone exchanging confused glances at what you could possibly be doing.

After a few minutes you'd return with a bag of gunpowder while struggling to zip up your pants with the other hand.

"Don't tell me how I got it. It almost tore me apart" You said, rubbing your ass.

On stressful nights, you guys would enjoy smoking weed together by the sofa and share stories of your traumatic childhood. It's how you guys bond and it's oddly wholesome.

Also when he needs a shoulder to cry on, you were always there for him. You two shared a type of relationship that even Romeo and Juliet couldn't compete with. To be fair they're dead so they actually can't fight.

"Hey reader!! If you're gonna keep reading then you might as well give the post a like or a repost. C'mon, pleassssseeee pleasepleaseplease"

"Ma cerise, who are you talking to?"

Although he doesn't mind your behaviour sometimes but he won't tolerate it if you ever cross the line on something. He's like the owner who sprays water at his pet cat when they don't listen.

"What are you mad at me for?!?!"

"You damn near tried to get us killed!!"

"Hey! You're the one who said it would be a suicide mission so I made sure it was a suicide mission!!"

"WHAT?"

There's no way he can deny how curious he is about where you get your guns and things. He once went in your room to find boxes of dynamite and a RPG just placed against the wall like furniture.

Like do you have a supplier or are you your own supplier?

Compatibility? 99.9%

M.M

Everybody deserves second chances.

He always tells him that to calm himself down everytime you managed to fuck up a thoroughly planned mission.

"What did I say about pressing buttons (Y/N)?"

"Honestly I stopped paying attention after you said 'Listen here'."

M.M has to be the only person you fear to the fact you try very hard to avoid him, this is because his long ass lectures are such a pain to deal with.

"How many times do I have to remind you? You can't just go around doing shit like that. You gotta consider the amount of danger you'll put everyone in..."

"(Blah blah blah... he's still going... uggggh... make it stop...!)"

Unable to handle the lecture any longer, you ended up shooting yourself in the head.

"(Y/N)!" His tone more disappointed than concern since this wasn't the first time you did this to escape his talks.

You know that russian dollhouse he tries to build in season 2? Well you'd constantly be found standing or sitting near him when he's trying to finish the set.

Since you're aware of his OCD, you like to edge him on by sometimes rearranging the parts or stealing some of it so he ends up searching high and low for the missing parts.

You had to admit it was entertaining to watch him accuse other people for touching his stuff when it was you behind all the schemes.

I'd like to think that after every mission when you happen to die, he'd be the one in charge of collecting your remains so you'd grow back.

That's why it comes naturally that his job is to make sure you don't do anything extreme.

"Where are my bombs??!?!" You'd shout, storming around the place looking for them.

"I sold them. Thought it'd do us more good knowing you won’t accidentally blow us up"

"WHAT?! GOD! It's like the writers of the show couldn't afford another explosion for this season so they had to use this DUMB of an excuse!!"

Though he does see some good in you through the messed up parts, he once saw you give his daughter a cute teddy bear when they've been burned by Vought.

She still has the bear and M.M likes to think that maybe you have a soft spot for kids since you never had a proper childhood. That's why he chooses to understand you rather than just being ignorant about your behaviour.

Compatibility? 80%

KIMIKO

She finds you a little odd but she doesn't mind once she realises how everyone is used to you being like that.

Whenever you're bored, you'd come to see what she was up to. Just imagine you sitting on the sofa like a curious kid as you watch her write alphabets on the book.

She also tries to communicate with you since she thought maybe your fucked up mind would understand her better in a way. Like how in season 2 she was repeatedly writing 'boy' to Frenchie but he didn't understand, so she came to you.

"Woow... watching you try to talk to me is like watching a baby take it's first breath..."

"😐"

"It's beautiful..."

Turns out her theory was wrong, you had a harder time understanding her compared to the rest.

Since you're the only two people in the group with powers, most of the time you two are sent on dangerous missions together. It's a nightmare for her because everybody knows communication is key but one is mute and the other doesn't listen.

"(Be quiet! There's people in the other room!)" She'd sign to you but you were busy humming a song while throwing around the enemies equipment.

"Oooh, what's this?" You held up a Homelander figurine which made you laugh as you show it to her.

"Hey look! 'I'm Homelander, I'm God's favourite. I play golf with Jesus every Sunday."

"(Can you please take this seriously?)"

"You're right, you gotta stop messing around Kimiko! We have a target to kill here" You said and you threw the figurine away which apparently clashes into a stack of boxes that came crashing down. The sound making everyone inside the building grab their weapons and began cornering you two in the room.

"😡"

"Okay that wasn't me that was gravity"

For the boys, you were plan A and she was plan B. That's because you always end up rushing into a fight first which most of the time resulted in you getting dismembered, which she later comes in to save you.

For example when Stormfront had stopped you guys, your bright ass thought it was a good idea to charge at her even though everyone was signalling you to stop. Next thing you know you were just a head being carried by M.M, you ended up watching as Kimiko fought Stormfront with the help of Starlight and Queen Maeve.

"That's my girl!! Now can anyone lend me a hand? I think I lost mine"

Compatibility? 97%

Bonus +

SOLDIER BOY

You know the scene where he walks out of his containment with the gas surrounding him? You swore when you watched him step out butt naked, you could hear angels singing and trumpets playing inside your head.

Shockingly enough, he was the only person who appreciated your humour. Could be a generation thing. He's just relieved not everyone has gone soft over the years.

In a way, you feel like you've become his babysitter. Everytime Butcher and Hughie left to do some business, you were in charge of making sure he doesn't blow up anyone. You kept him entertained so he didn't mind. That's why on the hunt for his former team members, he immediately chose you to be by his side.

"I'll take red with me"

"Red as in the american flag or the russians?" You asked which had him do the typical boomer laugh.

"I like you, you're funny" He said with a strong pat on your shoulder.

Butcher doesn't mind you with him cause he trusts that you can keep him under control. Hughie on the other hand isn't sure if you can even keep yourself under control.

"Shhh... wait... do you hear that?"

"Ah shit, did I accidentally said my dirty thoughts out loud? It's just you look breedable in that suit"

Another thing he likes about you is that you're okay with killing pretty much anyone, just try not to overstep cause that could potentially piss him off.

"I told you he's mine" He said as he had you pinned against one of the trees, apparently you had shot Mindstorm in the head when he literally made it clear to you minutes ago that was his kill.

"Quite possessive aren't you? I can recommended a therapist I know. Her names Martha—"

"You shut your mouth before I shove my shield up your ass"

"Gasp don't you DARE threaten me with a good time!!"

At the end of Season 3, you would obviously side with Butcher when everyone started to turn against Soldier Boy. He had to admit he was kinda hurt though, he expected you to be on his side.

"So what? You're crawling back to him now? After what we've been through?"

"Sorry big daddy, but Butcher has been my day one and I also happen to love him veryvery much"

Cue Butcher rolling his eyes out of disgust.

Compatibility? 100% but after the betrayal? 0% 😔

[olivianott]

BRAIN CHEMISTRY

Tell me I’m not the only one happily not recovered from the deatheatertok (yes that’s why I’ve been MIA😬) and the Lorenzo Zurzolo gifs from the other day? 😭 I could not help myself with this one.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION, OCTOBER CAME EARLY TO ME.

ꕤ 1.6k words 

ꕤ deatheater!Theo Nott x fem!reader

ꕤ warnings: toxic ex, deatheater Theodore, pure smut, unprotected sex, explicit content, not for minors, 18+

ꕤ all characters are adults

You knew you were in trouble. That you fucked up. You somehow found yourself at a party in an unknown manor. You and your friend got talking with some people at a pub and now you are surrounded by glimmering Death Eater masks. Everyone is acting as if they are just having fun at a party. But you see their eyes following the two of you everywhere. 

You already know what is going on at these parties. You heard stories, awful stories, from him. You wonder if he is in attendance. No. Stop thinking about him, he didn’t want you anymore. He is one of them after all. 

You try to think of a way out for you and your friend. Get drinks, but don’t drink them, discreetly inch towards the entrance while smiling and acting like you’re having the time of your life, getting through the door and the few steps over the anti-apparition wards and poof, you’re both safe. 

That was the plan. Everything went smoothly, until just before getting through the door, your path is crossed by a tall Death Eater with an overly decorated mask. “Hello, beautiful.” He says while you watch your friend successfully execute the plan and disappear with a crack. 

You turn around and try to escape the lewd gaze of the big Death Eater, but there is another one in your path and you realize you are surrounded. Fuck. This is not good. No, don’t panic, don’t panic.

You panic.

Your vision starts to blur and you can’t seem to think straight. Heart in your throat, the ground becomes unsteady. Another mask enters your field of vision, too close to your face. This mask looks elegant, not overly decorated, but with artistic lines strategically curved around the planes of the artificial face. He grabs you by the upper hand and starts to drag you away from the crowd that formed around you, barking something to the other Death Eaters. You try to fight him off but it’s not working, his grip tightens and when you don’t stop, he loses patience with you and puts his wand under your chin. It doesn’t hurt but the threat makes you tremble in fear.

The man leans down next to your ear and hisses: “STOP IT.” The voice is so hard and threatening but at the same time familiar. 

You momentarily freeze and that gives him time to drag you through the hall and into a bedroom. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

He closes the door after you and you finally have time to compose yourself, because he goes to the other side of the room, leaving you alone. While he locks the room with his wand, your mind clears slowly. You suddenly realize why the voice is so familiar. 

Theodore Nott. 

You’ve never seen him in his Death Eater robes and a mask before, but now you can’t stop looking at him. 

Theodore turns around, throws his mask on the bed, and stalks to you so fast, you actually step back in fear until your back is against the door. “Why the fuck are you here?!” He spits in your face, his eyes are feral and full of anger but also fear. 

“It was an accident, my friend thought it would be a good idea to-“ 

“To what? To enter a devil’s lair full of fucking Death Eaters that enjoy killing too much and don’t ask for permission to do anything? Don’t you fucking know what’s going on at these gatherings? Fucking hell!” He is talking quietly but with so much anger, you can actually feel his magic vibrating between you. 

“What’s it to you? You’re one of them now, you look like you’re right at home at this vile party, huh?” 

“Do you really think I like it? That I wanted this? Do you even know where you are?”

“In some nasty pureblood’s manor?”

“Yes. Welcome to the Nott manor.” His sarcastic smile falls off his face as he looks down and backs off of you, finally letting you breathe air. 

Oh. Nott manor. It’s his home. 

“Are you actually hosting this party?”

“Well, as I said, those people don’t ask permission for anything, so here we are. But now you are here and you made this night even more difficult for me. They have set their eyes on you now and they are hungry, in more ways than one. The Death Eaters need their food, and they like to play with it before eating.” 

He says this so matter of factly it takes a while for your mind to catch the whole truth of what you’ve casually walked into tonight. 

“You’re a Death Eater too now.”

“Exactly.” He smirks. 

You’ve missed him so much. His scent brings back memories, and you feel your body heat up despite his arrogant behavior and attempts to scare you off.

“What- what are you going to do to me?” You say breathlessly. Without your permission, your mind shows you pictures of you and him from the past, the little bit of fear just heightening your excitement. 

“Oh please, you know I’m not like-“ he stops himself mid-sentence and focuses his glare on your throat, pulsing with blood rushing through you, your red cheeks, your trembling hands, the rise and fall of your chest. 

“Now I remember.” His mouth curves in this arrogant smirk and his eyes look mischievous at the same time as dangerous. 

“You like danger… you like being scared, amore? Does it turn you on? Tonight you bit more than you could chew though, princessa. And now…. You are trapped in here. With me.” 

You can’t respond to him, but your body does. Your breathing gets more labored and you can’t help your gaze falling to his lips. 

His hand starts roaming down your body while again hovering over you, leaning against the door, the height difference between you more obvious than ever. 

“I- uhh…-“ you are unable to say more. But you close the distance between you and crash your lips against his. 

Theodore groans loudly, takes both your hands in his, and slams them against the door above your head. 

“Oh princessa, you don’t know what you just started, do you?” His hard kisses resume and your mind is filled up with sensations. 

The feel of his body against yours, the hardness of the door digging into your back, his teeth biting your lips, dragging against your throat, his lips sucking on your pulse point. 

Your eyes are closed, but you feel your feet leave the ground as Theodore picks you up and sends you flying on the bed. While crawling over you on the bed, he picks up his mask and puts it on his face. 

Fuuuuck. 

You can barely see his eyes staring down at you from behind the mask, in between the short strands of hair falling down around it. 

The world is a blur now, clothes start flying off of you, his hands tracing your curves. Suddenly he loses patience and flips you over, on your hands and knees on the bed. With his hand under your chin, he makes you look up. A mirror. Your moan is embarrassingly loud. The vision of him in his mask behind you, admiring you through the mirror, hand grabbing your throat… you’ve never seen anything hotter. With his other hand he traces your wetness and groans into your ear: “So ready for me princessa, you really do get turned on with fear and danger. How nasty of you. Was this your plan all along? To get fucked by a Death Eater?”

You can only manage to shake your head no, since he is already opening his Death Eater robes and taking out his beautiful cock. 

“I bet you were hoping to find me here, right? Wanted to make me take you back? Make sweet love and be together forever?“ He chuckles condescendingly at that thought. „Look at you now, writhing under me, dying for me to fuck you like this, with my mask on. Scream for me, princessa.” You can’t see the expression on his face since he is wearing his mask but his words are so degrading and harsh. And still, your eyes roll back into your head. 

And you do scream for him, you can’t help it, you are overwhelmed with sensation, his hands, his cock, his scent. After a while, your arms give out and he pushes your chest down into the bed, holding your hands crossed behind your back, you can’t even move. You are completely at his mercy and the feelings in your head are so confusing. You feel pathetic, under him like this, your body getting rocked by his trusts, but still, the way his cock feels inside you, the way he seems so powerful and in control of you and your pleasure with the way he manipulates your body and mind creates a fog inside your brain. Surrounded by his grunts, you realize he is using you for his satisfaction, seemingly oblivious and uncaring about your comfort or pleasure. You being completely naked, with your face in the mattress while he is still fully clothed behind you is just another layer of the humiliation. But your fucked up brain makes you love it so much that with his whimpery moans in your ear you finally lose control as you feel him lose the rhythm and push all the way inside you, so incredibly deep,  as he spills himself inside you. 

There is no cuddling after. He unceremoniously pulls out and sits in his bed propped up against the headboard, a trembling hand bringing a cigarette to his mouth, while you try to find your clothes and dignity on the floor. 

“Nice show. You were loud enough, so now they know you’re mine and hopefully leave you alone. Doesn’t change anything between us though. You can use the floo to get out of here and I hope to never see you at these things again, you understand me?” He says all of this so coldly and without even looking at you at all, so you quickly throw on your clothes and leave through the floo, throwing a “you’re still the same asshole” at him over your shoulder. 

Sitting on your sofa two days later, you are replaying everything that happened that day in your head. Your brain keeps getting stuck on the fear in his eyes when he dragged you to the room, a shaking cigarette in his hand after the sex, a slight tremble in his voice while he kicked you out of the manor after fucking you into oblivion. 

Maybe everything is not as he wants you to believe. He saved you from them after all. 

As always, thank you for reading, hope you liked it. I’m not done with deatheater!Theo though ��.

moodboard

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ Your principessa ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚

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