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luxcuriousao3 · 3 days ago

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Based on this post by @dante-mightdie . One line of dialogue taken directly from it so all credit for that goes to them!

Warnings: misunderstandings, mentions of murder (no violence or murder actually happens), pregnancy, no smut, ~1200 words

“I’m pregnant.”

The silence that followed your declaration was nerve wracking, and you drummed your fingers against the dashboard of Simon’s car. You’d been coming back to the pub you met him at for three weeks straight since that damn test had turned up positive, wanting—no, needing—to at least tell the man who’d knocked you up about his baby growing inside you. You didn’t expect anything from him, not really. He was a stranger, a ruggedly attractive man you’d gone home with after one too many drinks. Not that you’d regretted hooking up with him, he was as good in bed as he was hot—or at least you hadn’t until you’d missed your period.

You’d nearly given up on meeting him again when you walked into the pub today and saw him in the same corner booth he’d sat in last time, nursing a pint. He hadn’t smiled when he’d seen you, but his eyes had locked onto you and not strayed as you strode towards him, nervous but determined. When you’d asked to speak to him in private, he’d raised a single brow, letting the silence stretch on for so long you were sure he’d say no. But then he’d just gotten up and walked towards the door, holding it open for you and clicking his tongue when he turned around to see you frozen in place. Like a misbehaving child being scolded, you’d scrambled towards him, whispering a stuttered thanks and then following him to his car, cheeks hot.

The car in which you now sat, still stifled by silence as Simon just stared at you, face blank and giving nothing away. You swallowed thickly, a shaking hand pressing against your belly, a habit you’d unconsciously picked up over the last few weeks. Simon’s dark, penetrating eyes tracked the movement, lingering for a long moment before he suddenly reached over you, ignoring your surprised flinch to grab your seat belt and buckle you in. Before you could ask what he was doing, he’d thrown the car into reverse and peeled out of the parking lot, making you grip the handle above you for dear life.

“S-Simon, what— what are you doing?” You asked, doing your best to keep the tremor out of your voice. Simon just grunted. “We have— we have to talk about our options—”

“What options?” He asked, voice flat and deadly. “Ring options? Mortgage options? Paint swatches f’the nursery?”

You shut up, tears stinging your eyes at his mocking. You weren’t going to ask him for any of that, but it still hurt to hear him be so cruel. You turned away to look out the window, the light from the streetlamps the only thing penetrating the inky darkness of the night. Shadows crawled out from the forest, making a shiver run down your spine.

“Just take me home,” you whispered, dejected. “Please…”

“I am,” Simon answered, still in that same emotionless tone.

You didn’t know if you believed him.

Your gut feeling was proven right when he parked the car in an abandoned lot, wooded and secluded and a perfect place to murder the mother of his unwanted child before disposing of your body. You sat stiffly in the passenger seat as he climbed out of the car and walked around to your side, opening the door and holding out his hand for you. You stared at him, eyes wide, frozen like a deer in the headlights. He huffed in what could have been amusement but was probably annoyance, reaching over you once again to unbuckle you before scooping you up and carrying you deeper into the lot.

“See that tree?” He asked, nodding towards a sturdy looking oak. “That one branch stickin’ out’d make a good place ta hang something from.”

Oh my God, you thought, feeling dizzy and nauseous. Is he going to hang me and make it look like a suicide?

“There’s a pond down there,” he continued, and to your minor relief, walked right past the tree. When you reached the pond a minute later, he finally set you back on your feet. “S’dangerous. Fully grown man could drown in it.”

You flinched, your breathing picking up. He’s going to drown me instead. Simon turned to look back up the hill he’d just carried you down, his back facing you. It was now or never. If you wanted to live, you needed to run.

“Gonna have to build a fence ‘round it. Not too high though, don’t want ta mess up the view from the house—”

You didn’t hear the rest of what he was saying, already halfway up the hill by the time he cut himself off. A gruff, angry “hey!” had you moving double time, nearly clawing at the ground just to get to the top faster.

You didn’t make it.

Strong, thick arms wrapped around your middle and lifted you in the air, and you screamed, shrill and terrified.

“No! No! Let me go!” You begged as you flailed in Simon’s firm grip. It was useless—he was so much stronger than you, so much larger than you, and his hold on you was unbreakable. He didn’t say anything as he carried you back down the hill, towards the pond, towards your death, and your shrieks turned into sobs as big, fat tears rolled down your cheeks. You were hyperventilating, now, animal panic wrapping its hands around your throat and squeezing, cutting off your air. Or maybe those were Simon’s hands? You didn’t know, you couldn’t think straight through the fear. All you knew was that you didn’t want to die.

“Thinkin’ we could name the baby John, if it’s a boy.”

The words filtered through your panic after an indeterminate amount of time, and you slowly came back to yourself, the blackness leaving your vision. The first thing you noticed was that you were cradled in Simon’s lap, face tucked into the crook of his neck as he murmured softly in your ear. The next thing you noticed was that one of his hands was rubbing your back soothingly, while the other rested on your belly. You let out a confused, snotty croak, and his voice quieted, before he pulled back a bit to look down at you.

“You back with us, love?” He asked, but then gently shushed you when you whined. “Shh, s’alright. Try not ta get all worked up again, hmm? S’not good for the baby.”

“But— but— but you don’t want it,” you whispered. Simon blinked at you, the slightest of furrows appearing between his brows. “You’re g-gonna kill me…”

“Am I now?” He tsked. “That’s not very nice of me.”

You whimpered, squirming in his lap and trying to get free. His face softened minutely, and he started rubbing your back again, still not letting go.

“Shh, shh,” he repeated. “S’alright, love. M’not gonna hurt ya. Was just makin’ a shite joke, yeah?”

It took another few minutes of you struggling (and failing) to escape, and him cooing gruff reassurances at you, before you gave up.

“You’re not gonna kill me?” You finally sniffled, scrubbing at your wet, red-rimmed eyes. Simon’s lips twitched into an almost-smile, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You relaxed, practically melting into him as your heart rate started to slow. Maybe you had been wrong. Maybe Simon really wasn’t dangerous.

“I’d eat my gun ‘fore I hurt ya or our baby,” he vowed.

You stiffened again.

“You have a gun?!”

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neigepomme · 2 days ago

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˙ ✩°˖ 🐦‍⬛ mon amour / sylus x reader

synopsis; you knew that sylus could speak several languages. what you didn't take into account though, is how lethal he sounds flirting with you in the most romantic language in the world.

🍎 pomme's notes - putting my french knowledge to use.. translation for the words sylus uses at the end!!

⋆ 1.1k words / fluff & suggestive at the end / fem reader / 2nd person

your cheeks were burning, and the man in front of you was smirking, making you feel even more infuriated. how could he get even sexier?!

"that's enough, sylus", you huff out.

how did you get here? great question.

you were lounging on the settee in his office and reading a book when he picked up a call in a foreign language — one you recognized as french. sylus spoke several languages, and you knew that, but you weren't aware he was that fluent. oh, and sexy sounding, but he didn't need to know that yet.

when he hung up, you cleared your throat, catching his attention. looking up from his papers, he stares at you with his habitual laid-back expression. judging from your barely hidden smile though, he can guess you're after something. sylus stands up and walks around his desk to face you better, choosing to lean against it rather than invade the space where you're seated for once.

“something's the matter, sweetie?”

you hum, your smile widening. you never thought your intro to french class in high school would come in handy, but it turns out life is full of surprises.

“i didn't know you spoke french, monsieur sylus.”

ah, your curiosity stemmed from the foreign language at the tip of his tongue. sylus laughed softly, taking a step in your direction. he'd spoken various languages around you, mostly in business contexts, and never failed to observe how your eyes twinkled at the words coming out of his mouth. however, this was the first time you had commented on it, and he was going to use that to his advantage. standing in front of you now, his gaze flickered to your lips. was he trying to pull a reaction out of you?

“i do, mon ange. interested in hearing more? you know that i'd indulge you if you asked.”

hearing him calling you his angel in french did some things to your stomach, you'll give him that — feeling the heat rise in your face, you quickly explain how you took some french in high school. in response, he leans back and raises his hand to his chin, as if pondering something, and judging from the smirk growing on his face, it can't be good for you.

“perhaps we should converse a bit to refresh your knowledge, shall we, doll? i'll even use simple words.”

oh. that was more tame than you thought, seems like he decided not to tease the blush on your cheeks. you nod, and give him your best attempt at a greeting, to which he chuckles a bit — probably from your rusty pronunciation. he responds patiently and corrects any pronunciation mistakes you make. this was sweet, no hidden motives, which surprised you.

well, that was an error in your judgment, it seems, because he most definitely did have ulterior motives.

now leaning back down and caging your body between the seat and himself, sylus cleared his throat a bit, aiming to impress you with his smooth french. it was the language of romance after all, wasn't it? and what a fool would he be if he didn't romance you.

“my turn to show off, mon amour.”

oh fuck. you were doomed.

“what to tell you, hm? oh, i know. je t'aime, je t'adore, mon cœur.”

your heart was beating concerningly fast at the sudden love declarations. did he have no shame? the answer was a resounding no, judging from how he was invading your space and relishing in your bated breaths and flushed cheeks.

“tu es rouge, mon amour. quelque chose te gêne? tell me all about it, mon ange.”

pushing weakly against his shoulders, you looked away from his intense gaze. if you kept looking into his eyes, you were most definitely going to melt from the inside out at how attractive he was.

and sylus knew that — of course he did, he could read you like a damn open book, and right now, you were putty in his hands. who knew flirting with you in french would have that effect? he did, most likely.

“sylus, you're being unfair.”

finally gathering your courage, you glared at him and tried your damnedest to look angry. although you don't think it looked very intimidating because of the red cheeks and all, but that was just a hunch. i mean, what could you even do in this situation? you were faced with an insanely gorgeous man, a well-read and clever one at that — who wouldn't swoon? but this was unfair. come on, throwing all those cute pet names at you with his smooth voice, in french, was a calculated move, one planned with your demise in mind.

and were you gonna go down without a fight? absolutely not. whether you'd win or not was debatable, though.

so you did the only thing that seemed rational. the only thing that had a chance at shutting him up and sparing you from the (very attractive, might i add) french love declaration sylus was spouting.

grabbing onto his shirt, you pull him in for a kiss, just a quick peck to shock him enough into stopping. but while his eyes widened in shock, it was not enough to stop him from teasing you.

what was it again about you winning the fight? yeah, no. sylus wasn't known as the relentless conqueror for nothing — and as he deepened the kiss, you would quickly find out that the language wasn't the only thing he knew that was french.

french kissing, too.

you yelped into his mouth when he bit your lower lip, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth while he was at it. cupping your cheeks, you could feel yourself melt into him and his stupidly good kisses. his hands started moving down, roaming over your body, as if trying to commit it to memory — though he likely already had from previous nights spent together. you started feeling light-headed from the intensity of it all and pushed him away, desperately trying to catch your breath.

and infuriatingly enough, the smug look on his face could not be erased. could you really blame him, though? sylus was looking at the most beautiful person he'd ever have the chance to encounter, flushed and staring up at him with desire plastered over her face — all of it after he showed off his intellectual and physical prowess. he was a man, after all, a very, very proud and greedy one at that.

“you know, kitten, if you take off your clothes, i could draw you like a french girl. we could go three for three when it comes to french things.”

that pulled you out of the hazy state he put you in, slipping from his grasp and running out the door with a vicious blush on your face still — all while he laughed at how cute you looked flustered.

sylus was gonna be the death of you one day. you had to make sure he never learned you also picked up on some spanish, lest he tries to introduce you to spanish passion through physical means or something.

🍎 pomme's final notes - BEEP BEEP!! pomme translator at your service

"je t'aime, je t'adore, mon cœur." - i love you, i adore you, my heart

"tu es rouge, mon amour. quelque chose te gêne? tell me all about it, mon ange." - you're red, my love. something bothering you? tell me all about it, my angel.

i had a lot of fun with this one hehe..

#⋆ pomme writes #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #lads #sylus x you #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader #lads sylus #⋆ neigepomme #he does find out you know some spanish btw #mephisto snitched. of course he did. damn bird

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butchdiaz · 2 days ago

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can't stop thinking about the morning after the breakdown right now. eddie slept on the couch. his room was a mess. his bed had glass in it so he slept on the couch. but buck slept over too. where did he sleep? on the floor next to eddie? did he sleep at all? or did he just lay there listening to eddie's breathing, watching the rise and fall of his chest, thanking god that he's here and he's safe with every little sniffle and snore? maybe he saw the sun start to creep through the curtains and eased himself up with cracking knees, holding his breath until eddie snored again, sound asleep. and he reached over and adjusted the blanket to cover him a little better and just watched him for a moment, looking so peaceful in sleep. so different to the pain on every line of his face the night before. then buck wakes chris up, a gentle hand on his shoulder. says Hey Bud. Time to get ready for school. We have to be Quiet though. Your Dad's still sleeping on the couch. chris whispers Okay Buck. and buck knows it's usually cereal on school days but he whips up pancakes with chocolate chips because. well. it was a hard night. chris slowly opens the kitchen door to avoid it creaking and sits down, still in his pjs, crutches left behind in his bedroom. and they eat in silence. there's a million questions on chris's tongue and most of them are Is Dad Okay? but he doesn't ask, because it's a stupid question. because he peeked into the bedroom while buck was making breakfast and saw the holes in the wall. buck steps outside while chris is finishing up and dials. Good Morning Buck, bobby says. Hey Bobby. Um. Could you come over to Eddie's house? He kind of. Uh. Lost it. Last night. And I Have to take chris to school soon and I just. Don't want him to be alone. When he wakes up. theres a little pause then. Of Course. Be there in 20. buck does the dishes, checks on chris, checks on eddie. hears the car pull up and opens the door. bobby gives him one look before pulling him into a hug and buck has to fight back sudden tears. and eddie makes a noise in his sleep like he's distressed and they both look over. and bobby whispers What Happened Buck? and buck tells him. He destroyed his room. Went at it with a baseball bat. Chris was so scared. I was...Fuck. Everyone he saved is dead, Bobby. and bobby understands, more than buck ever will and says, I'll have a cup of coffee waiting for him. buck drives chris to school and chris finally asks Is Dad gonna be okay? feeling like he's five years old. and buck says, Yeah. He just needs a little help right now. chris voice Are you gonna help him? buck voice Yeah buddy. I'm gonna try. and he vows to stay glued to eddie's side. just until he feels better. or maybe forever.

#what time is it wheres christopher? / buck already took him to school figured you could use the sleep. RARARARRAA #they speak

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slimepuparibaba · 14 hours ago

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18+ NSFW CALEB HEADCANON, HEAR ME OUT! IF YOU ARE A MINOR THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING DO NOT TOUCH THIS WITH A 90-FOOT-POLE

ALSO I SOUND LIKE A MADMAN BUT HEAR ME OUT OK JUST... JUST HEAR ME OUT--

caleb gets worse and more depraved the longer sex goes on

HEAR ME OUT. JUST... JUST HEAR ME OUT.

The more he has you, the less restraint he has. by the time you're spent, he's PROBABLY STILL GOING SO LONG AS YOU DON'T ASK HIM TO STOP OR YOU DO NOT USE THE SAFE WORD (he abides by safe word and is heavy on consent, never assume otherwise)

It'll start with him on top of you, probably being rough (because let's be so real here Caleb is a freak and you are too), doing the usual, he'd encourage you to squirt, to cum, he'd whisper how filthy you are and how you're so perfect for him. he'll ask if you're aware about the size difference between you and him and how he could easily crush you, how he could ruin you for anyone else (oh but you would like that, wouldn't you baby? is probably what he'd ask)

I'M SAYING HE GETS WORSE AS TIME GOES ON. LET ME COOK HERE—HE GETS EXPONENTIALLY WORSE AND MORE UNHINGED THE LONGER THE SEX CONTINUES.

you think you're getting overstimulated? man's trying to get his cock milked over and over again, he's AIMING to be overstimulated. he wants to feel the warmth, the tightness, he wants to merge your flesh into one because HE IS THAT OBSESSED WITH YOU—

at some point he'd lose it entirely, start rambling about other things you could do.

"want me to tie you up, huh? use that little baton from when we first reunited, that thing in interrogations? oh you want that soooo bad don't you? want a collar around your little neck, want me to leash you and drag you around the room? you want me in uniform, want me to be gloved, spank you for misbehaving? how about i use my evol, fuck you against the wall, the ceiling? zero gravity even, drag you down on my cock? or maybe you wanna resonate, huh? wanna hear the disgusting things i think about, feel the way i feel whenever i thrust in and out of you?"

YEAH HE RAMBLES MORE THE LONGER THE SEX GOES ON. BECAUSE HE'S LOSING HIS GODDAMN MIND.

like he will start spouting out the most depraved thoughts he has of you the longer it goes, confessions spilling from his mouth. he's good at restraining, really, he is, but the longer he's inside you, the more of you he's tasted, THAT MAN? GONE. RESTRAINT? BYEEEEEEE

because you feel so good, and now his moans are turning into full on whimpers, and the moment you start seeming tired, and the moment he knows you've been going for WAY TOO LONG, he'll start bargaining

"I promise this'll end in seven minutes, just seven more minutes, need seven more minutes in heaven with you please please, please just please—"

and then when you PASS that seven minute mark (he's so invested), he finally becomes so whiny and apologizing

"I'm a filthy dog, they're right, I'm a disgusting mutt, I'm a beast, I'm a gross pervert, all I want is to take you and break you and rebuild you and mold you, I want you all to myself, I want to keep you here forever and fuck you like this forever, fuck, I'm a selfish disgusting bastard, I can't—"

he'll start raving on and on about how addicted he is, how he can't live without you, how you feel so good that he can't breathe, how he wants to stay right there with you, never leave, keep you there, breed you, and how he knows that he's a gross, disgusting pervert who's so honed in on fucking you out of your mind because it feels too good, he loves you so much, he needs you, he CRAVES you, but he's such a disgusting person and you're a divine being that's giving a sinner like him a chance--

Promise when he comes down from his high or you say the safe word that he'll return to normal and probably regret pushing it too far, ask if he did too much, etc.

he'll give you aftercare, he'll help you if you feel wobbly, he'll apologize over and over again for pushing your limits, say that you did so well and thank you for putting up with him...

...just... just know if you encourage him he will get even worse and you are in trouble

This man needs to be restrained and he would gladly BE restrained cuz the moments restraints are off and he gets a piece of you, KNOW HE WILL GET EXPONENTIALLY WORSE

(and if you're into that you should rile him up actually)

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #l&ds #caleb #love and deepspace caleb #lads caleb #lnds caleb #caleb x reader #caleb smut #caleb headcanon #caleb headcanons #caleb x you #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x y/n #caleb xia

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yugsly · 2 days ago

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I think you should do a little more research on the development of YIIK and it's developer :(

So here's the thing- YIIK and it's developers (just two brothers) have been the targets of nasty hate campaigns and misinformation since the launch of the original YIIK in 2019. Since the very beginning- it barely had a chance to live before people deeply mischaracterized things. People perpetuating rumors based on random things folks were saying on the internet, not fact checking anything. Can you imagine that? Working on a passion project for so long, only for people to dunk on it and lie? A game made by just two young people, trying to make art? A pretty substantial part of the targeted hate was because the game was calling out a certain type of guy -a privileged, entitled gamer drunk on nostalgia to put it the most simple- and so, people didn't like that the game was making them look in the mirror- many didn't even understand that. They didn't get it, so they attacked anything they could. A lot of the hate was spread by people who hadn't even played the game. They just took these posts and ran with them. They didn't bother to form their own opinions. A lot of the "rumors" are addressed in this interview. I recommend you read it! On the internet, it's incredibly easy to buy into misinformation for the sake of "justice". To feel like you're doing good for "warning others". But you really, really, have to take a second look at what you're spreading around, what you're repeating. At times it can be correct to spread warning, but other times can be extremely damaging and traumatizing. This is one of those cases. It's really really sad to be honest. Over the past couple of months I've gotten to know Andrew (one of the two devs), and he's great. I was genuinely so disgusted to hear what had taken place when they both put their game out there. It's sad and horrifying. In today's internet, dunking on things, calling them out, has become social currency in a way. I think we need to be really careful about that. It's up to us to stop misinformation. This is the last time I'm gonna comment on this 'controversy' I think.

#yiik #yiik iv

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hyunebunx · 2 days ago

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˖˙ ᰋ ── i didn't hear what you said, i just want to kiss you

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: this is for all of my perfectionist students lmao. kind of self indulgent and super inspired by hyunjin's latest live. enjoy!! <3<3<3

For years now, your boyfriend has been your favorite study partner. Always patient, kind, and considerate of your needs, helping you tackle every difficult subject with a smile on his face. Bringing you snacks, urging you to take breaks whenever he sensed you needed it but most importantly, never pressuring you in any way. Despite your stellar marks, he always says:

“Don’t stress too much about it. Grades aren’t everything.”

And you believe him, you really do, yet the overachiever part of your soul is always louder, and never lets you rest, yelling in your ear until you comply and spend your whole day cooped up inside, studying.

You need to get the highest grade possible, otherwise you’ll shrivel up and die.

Hyunjin keeps you grounded, that’s why there’s no better person alive than your boyfriend. An angel in disguise who has somehow fallen from grace, lost his wings, and is now trapped on earth, forced to mingle with mere mortals like you.

And mingle he does. But unfortunately for him that’s not enough – he also has to teach you statistics.

“See? The difference between descriptive statistics and inferential statistics is quite simple. It’s easier to tell them apart now, right?”

“I guess…” You yawn, setting your glittery pen aside before stretching your arms above your head. “I need a break.”

Hyunjin cocks a brow, amused. “We just started.”

“Half an hour ago!” You point towards the clock on the far wall, hidden behind endless amounts of bookshelves.

“Exactly, we barely managed to scratch the surface.” He pouts, running a hand over his buzzed head in slight exasperation.

You have to resist the urge of squishing his cheeks together, not wanting to make a scene in public. Cuteness aggression was a real thing you fought with every day. “I’m not going to lie, my love. I stopped listening to whatever you were explaining 15 minutes ago.”

“What?”

You nod. “I didn’t hear anything you said.” Then, you scoot closer, gluing yourself to his side as your voice drops several octaves. “I just want to kiss you.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen slightly at your confession, swiftly looking around to ensure the nearby tables are still vacant. Then, he tongues his cheek in the most attractive way you’ve witnessed, a smirk hanging off the corners of his mouth as he shakes his head.

“After you finish this chapter.” He eventually breathes out, allowing one of his hands to rest on your upper thigh and squeeze in encouragement.

Your head falls back with a groan, frustrated. “Come on, Hyun!” the way you drag out his name has him chuckling lowly, eyes sparkling. “Haven’t I suffered enough?”

“Suffer?” He laughs, poking your forehead. “You’ll only suffer if you fail this test.”

“I won’t fail.” You huff, jerking back. His hand then slips off your thigh and the lack of warmth has you scrawling right back, wounding your arms around his neck to bring him even closer, hoping he’ll cave.

Hyunjin’s eyes fall to your lips, and you know it’s a matter of time before the spell you got him under works its magic. “Of course, you won’t. I won’t allow it.”

Your bright smile snaps his attention back to your eyes, which he seems to get lost exploring, absorbed by the beautiful color. Without missing a beat, you lean forward to connect your lips, eager to taste the cherry chapstick you applied on him when he complained about his lips being dry.

You guess even angels can get dehydrated.

Making out at the library on a Thursday night was never on your bingo card, but with Hyunjin as your partner in crime, you wouldn’t mind doing anything. He makes you feel safe in any situation, but especially when you have to get out of your comfort zone, tackle life head-on when putting things on hold is no longer an option.

You manage to peck his lips, once, twice, and then three times before he brings you closer, big hands sliding down from your waist to your hips and squeezing, needing to feel your flesh between his fingers.

His tongue brushes against your lower lip, and as your mouth opens to allow him access to every part of you, a low moan escapes you both simultaneously. Alcohol was overrated – you’ve only ever gotten drunk on each other.

“We don’t even share a major.” He gasps as he pulls away, and your lips find his jaw.

“I know.” Another kiss graces the beautiful mole under his eye.

With the way you’re kissing him, your lips trailing down his throat, Hyunjin has trouble speaking. “I-I’ve never taken this class before.”

“I know.” You nod, pecking the base of his neck.

A shiver runs down his spine, and his hold on you tightens, almost like he’s ready to lift and place you on his lap, deeming you too far away. “So why do I keep helping you like I’m some dean’s list student?”

“Because you love me.” You finally stop to look into his eyes, heart fluttering at the way his chest is already weaving up and down after a few minutes of innocent kisses. Your touch has always had that effect on him, so you were never confused about his feelings towards you. Hyunjin wore his heart on his sleeve, body reacting faster than his brain could process, never failing to show you how near and dear you are to him. How much he adored every one of your endearing quirks, loving you unconditionally like it was a duty he never wanted to be free of. “As much as I love you.”

With a cocky smirk he barely manages to muster, he replies while tucking some hair behind your ear. “I think I love you a little more than you love me, actually.”

“That’s impossible, Hyun.”

And you were certain of it. Nothing could be bigger than the love you held for this angel.

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jesuistrestriste · 3 days ago

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cw : fingering, coming untouched (18+)

—

art donaldson is an empathetic lover.

he feels what you feel, regardless of how much stimulation his own body is getting. just watching you melt and sink into a milky bath of pleasure is enough to have his head swimming and his cock swelling. it’s more than enough.

so he’s perfectly content with laying you down in bed every night after he’s stripped you bare, your skin a canvas for his lips and teeth and tongue, and hovering above you while he begins thumbing your bundle of nerves. when your brow pinches up and you let out a soft squeal, his brow pinches too. he mimics your body involuntarily—reflexively. his jaw slacks when your lips part, and he starts to moan with you. his breathing syncing with yours as he rocks into the inside of his zipper.

he slides two of his fingers into you soon after and begins curling them upwards to play with that warm, spongy spot nestled in your walls. he keens when your back arches up and he leans forward to press his face into your neck. his free hand cups the back of your head.

“are you gonna come for me?” he whimpers, “i want you to come, baby.. you’re so wet f’me..”

and a nod from you is all that it takes for him to start properly abusing your g-spot, pushing his digits in to their knuckles as he feels your hole convulse around his touch. gushes of your essence fill his palm and he wants nothing more than to pause and drink it, slurping and lapping it from the bowl of his touch like a man dying of thirst, but he knows you’re close. he can wait.

your trembling hips begin to stutter and grind against his movements as he uses his thumb to resume playing with your sensitive bud, circling it under his fingerprint. his gut is brimming with thrums of heat just from smelling and hearing and touching you like this.

fuck, it’s always enough.

he nips at your neck, and then he hears your strangled cry echo out into the room just before he feels you clamp down on him. your hands scramble for the back of his tee shirt and fist it as you find your release; hot, exhausting, overwhelming, almost too much. he’s hit with his own not a moment later.

“oh god—“ he whines, his pelvis jumping as his dick twitches and gushes in his clothing, his fingers relentlessly working you through your climax.

art keeps it up until you’re boneless and shaky on the sheets, your body only moving to jerk with overstimulation when his touch swipes over your spent clit. he loves pulling back to watch you revel in the afterglow. you’re something straight out of a poem. an ocean after a hurricane. a field after the first kiss of rain in months. a volcano after eruption; suffocating smoke and impossible heat.

he moves his free hand from your head to your stomach, caressing down it as he pulls back from your core. shushes you tenderly when you whimper from the emptiness.

he’s fine with doing this every night, and he never asks for anything in return.

why?

because it’s all he wants.

and you give him everything he needs.

#do you get what i mean hmm #like he literally gets off just by witnessing how good you’re feeling #when you’re feeling pleasure he feels it all with you #something’s happening to me #woahwoahwoah first small fic(?) in possibly months ?!#🩷 - thirsts #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #art donaldson x you #challengers smut

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imnotshua · 3 days ago

Text

joke me something awful - jww

٠࣪⭑ pairing: jeon wonwoo x fem reader ٠࣪⭑ summary: it's 2002 and you ask wonwoo to take you home. later, he wonders why you haven't been doing this the whole time. ٠࣪⭑ genre: childhood friends to lovers, smut, fluff, angst, college au ٠࣪⭑ rating: explicit. minors do not interact with me, i'll block you. ٠࣪⭑ warnings: swearing, drinking, undefined relationships. not really a situationship tho, it’s very much mutual pining. reader and wonwoo are just stupid regular people who say and do stupid things, it is intentional, please love them anyway. wonwoo is down bad i'm so sorry friends, he is just!!!!!! occasional use of pet names (baby & angel from wonwoo. darling/sweetheart from others), no use of y/n or other variations, porn with plot mostly, ambiguous ending (sorry my beloveds). wonwoo could do with some more confidence ig. a bitter ex (oc) is mentioned and important for the plot! mentions of previous hook ups between wonwoo and reader. toxicity from the ex, but i don’t particularly think reader and wonu are! they just :(((((( feel free to correct me tho. ٠࣪⭑ smut contents: gendered terms, kisses, fingering (pussy + mouths), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (it's 2002 college students were stupid then ok), dry humping lmao, cum eating, wonwoo on top, cum in pants, sloppy kinda, wet patches <3, soooo much hand holding, morning sex, neediness <333333, all in all they are quite soft and disgustingly into each other. if you think i've forgotten anything please let me know so i can fix my post! ٠࣪⭑ wc: 5.4k - complete ٠࣪⭑ a/n: i listened to fob's from under the cork tree on repeat for like 2 weeks straight and needed to do something with the feelings in my chest. this universe started in a different work that i'll post another time, this is the before. it is complete on its own, can be read without the others, but please note that future fics for this couple will be non-linear and feature different stages of their lives. the title comes from Fall Out Boys I've Got A Dark Alley–. Please consider listening to Air - Yeji, it's the feeling this couple gives me. ٠࣪⭑ thank yous: to my loves, @100vern and @starlightkyeom– thank you for putting up with my screaming over wonwoo, thank u for reading this over and telling me it wasn't gross. to jewel again, thank you for the banner. i appreciate u both so much. to everyone else, thank you for coming to my little corner, i hope you enjoy this one.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

2002

Wonwoo didn’t apply for the fellowship program, despite all your insistence that if you got in he’d be sure to, that he’s smarter than you’ll ever be. At the time he said it felt like too much work, but later he realised he couldn’t take the fear of rejection. This would’ve just been another failed start. Deep down he wondered if he’d even deserve it.

The celebratory dinner for new scholars is supposedly an elitist, snobby, and frankly, horrid affair so naturally you’re going. If only to foster those connections you’re making for your future career. Wonwoo turns his nose up but he agrees to be your date nonetheless. You don’t have to beg, just ask the question and say he wouldn’t embarrass you like the man you’ve been dating for four months, and that fills him with some strange sense of achievement.

Of course, once that guy hears you’re taking Wonwoo instead of him, he dumps you without ceremony. And now Wonwoo sits on your bed in a rented suit far too expensive for him to feel entirely comfortable in, watching your reflection choose which earrings to wear, and he wonders if you’re even bothered. He doesn’t know how to talk to you about this. Partners are off limits, usually, but since he had some involvement in the break up, in some roundabout way, he thinks maybe he should at least check. He wets his lips.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. “Since Hongseok?”

You meet his eyes in the mirror. “Fine,” you say. “I don’t think it was going anywhere. He wanted something more traditional. I started to get the impression he was setting up to cheat on me, actually.”

Wonwoo is unsurprised, sounds like you are too. “You’re better off without him,” he says, picking at bits of fluff from your blanket clinging to his trousers. It’s one his mother knitted for your sixteenth birthday. “You’ll meet someone new in no time.”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” you start. “I think I’ll stay single for a while.”

Wonwoo lifts his eyebrows in surprise and you catch him in the mirror. With a laugh you say, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“You’ve been a serial dater since we moved to this city and you’re stopping now?” Wonwoo’s lips twist into a grin. Teasing is easier than edging too close to real. “Just when you’ve hit your prime?”

You scoff. “Rude. I’ll hit my prime in my thirties. Just watch.”

Wonwoo watches as you apply your usual lipstick and thinks about the time you didn’t wear any. You were just kids but it didn’t seem so long ago. You’re almost the same. Eighteen years of your starkly different lives intertwined and somehow still as close as you ever were. Still the sharpest person he’s ever known, still the sweetest if only in private. Still his parents' favourite person, still his. (His stomach twists).

You’re giving yourself a final appraisal in the mirror before turning to Wonwoo and asking how you look.

“Good,” he says, with a nod. Breathtaking, really. “Pretty.”

“Thanks,” you say, smiling relieved, moving to sit next to him on the bed and linking his arm. “We scrub up well, don’t we?”

“Mm,” he agrees, following your gaze into the mirror, pinpricks creeping over his skin. You look like you’re together, he thinks, as he notices you’ve chosen earrings that go with his tie. Anyone could make that assumption.

“You look sad, Wonwoo,” you say, quiet and soft. “Are you sad?”

“No,” he says, throat tight and feeling like his back is pressed against the wall. “What would I have to be sad about?” He lets you slip your hand into his, lets you lean your head on his shoulder for a moment, because this is how you make him feel better. Because you know that he can’t be pushed to talk about things he hardly understands. Barely a minute goes by before he sucks in a breath and says, “Shall I call us a taxi?”

“Sure, number’s in the book next to the telephone,” you say. “Want a drink? I need one for this.”

“Water for me, someone’s got to get you home.”

“Aw, come on. Don’t make me drink alone.” You laugh when Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “I’ll be on my best behaviour, I promise. My reputation’s on the line.”

“One beer,” he offers. You pout and he can’t stop his smile.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It went like this:

Both of you had no less than three drinks before the taxi showed up.

Your peers kept thinking that he was your “elusive boyfriend” and upon correction that he was ‘just Wonwoo’ their eyes lit up and exclaimed “oh we’ve heard so much about you!”

The way he blushed made you want to kiss him silly (you had another drink instead).

Drink five? Four? Everyone here is obliterated, no one notices you and Wonwoo readying to leave.

He looks so pretty like this, tie undone, glasses slipping down his nose, pulling off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders, watching your lips as you talk.

The taxi you pre booked won’t be here for another ten minutes but the room was so stuffy (in both the literal and figurative sense) that as soon as you tell Wonwoo you need to get out of there, he’s nodding and pulling you out into the street. It’s so busy– of course, it’s OT week– that you struggle to find a spot where you won’t be bumped into for a while, eventually settling against the wall of the building opposite, in good view of the road. The noise around you is hectic, and you’re desperate for something less bothersome. Wonwoo looks drunk, looks fucked out. Cheeks flushed and lips parted. Eyes closed, he tips his head back against the brick and exposes the column of his throat. Pretty.

“Hey,” you say, slipping your arms around his waist. “Thanks for coming with me.”

Wonwoo hums. “Yeah, ‘course.” A pause– he wraps his arms around your shoulders. He’s so heavy but you like how it feels. “Anything for you.”

There’s a saccharine sweetness stirring in your stomach. You ask him to tell you the story of Baucis and Philemon again, press your body against his and hope he can still read you like he used to. It’s been years. Maybe he won’t want to.

“Why do you like that one so much?” he asks. You take in the smell of his soap. You know you shouldn’t want to go down this road again. “It’s hardly even a love story.”

“They’re the ultimate love story,” you insist, looking up at your friend to find him already watching you. “They’re precious to each other. I want that kind of love.”

It’s more than that. Baucis and Philemon have a timeless love. Their lightness oozes out of them, their love is both infectious and tender. So devoted they choose to die together. Never without the other even after they’re gone– turned to trees, and their branches and roots weave together so tightly that you can’t tell where either one of them starts and they stay like that, as relics of a lost ancient world.

There is something ancient about Wonwoo, too. For as long as you can remember he has been older than his years, telling stories of places long buried, of deities forgotten about. You think maybe he was meant for then and not now, the cusp of the twenty-first century. He keeps echoes within him. Carries heavy stones to turn over in his hands and spend time memorising the marks. He is deliberate in the way he moves, no ill-perceived rush, and Wonwoo’s silence carries more weight than his words.

So when his eyes flicker to your lips again, and he still doesn’t move, you know it’s on you. You know you’re going to have to be the one to shift the sands, change the direction of the tide. You’ve been lovers before. Neither of you have ever said never.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

He’d been thinking about it all night but you were the one to press your lips against the corner of his mouth, eyes on his and holding the proximity. Are you thinking about it like he is? Is your heart thrumming in your chest like his?

“I can feel you thinking.”

“Uh huh.” His mouth goes dry. He can’t kiss you with a sandpaper tongue.

You run a finger between two buttons on his shirt, eyes up, watching his reaction. “Can I stay at your place tonight? Hansol’s at his parents' house this weekend, right?”

Wonwoo’s mind goes blank and he can feel the pink creep over his cheeks. “Did you squeeze your Pompompurin pyjamas in that little bag?”

Your lips twitch in an almost smile, lean in to ghost a kiss against his bottom lip. Wait to see if he pulls back– he doesn’t. His hands just slip down your back, touching the skin under the strap of your dress. Didn’t imagine when he helped you zip up earlier that he’d be the one invited to pull it off you. Has he hidden his desire so poorly? “Do you wanna fuck me in those pyjamas, Wonwoo?”

The street noise is drowned out when you kiss him properly, and it’s embarrassing the way he’s breathless, gripping at your waist and pulling your body closer. Humiliating that this is in full view of strangers, doesn’t want them to see how you lick into his mouth, doesn’t want them to hear your sharp gasp as his teeth drag over your bottom lip. He spins you on the spot, crowds you against the brick and blocks out the world with his shoulders. You pull on a button and slip your hand through the gap. The touch burns. Your kisses are suffocating, loves the way you smile into it, the way you make him chase your lips, run your fingers along the waistband of his trousers an– fuck– he’s gonna get hard in the middle of the street.

Desperate, he pulls off you and whips his head around to look for the taxi, you’re already complaining. “Not here–,” he says, words rasped, catching in his throat. He can see the taxi rounding the corner, and in a beat he’s pushing off the wall and dragging you toward it by the hand.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

He doesn’t touch you in the taxi. Hopes you know it’s not because he didn’t want to, he just doesn’t want to lose himself. His fingers flex eager on the leather seats, wanting something he won’t take. As the driver fiddles with the radio, you lean over to lay your hand across his, to whisper in his ear, “do you still lick your fingers after you’ve made someone come on them?” Wonwoo doesn’t answer, but he can feel the way you watch him swallow– thick– and stare hard out the window at the passing lights. He never did that with anyone but you.

Now you’re paying for it. He’s more confident in the privacy of his bedroom, in the dark. Cages you in his bed, doesn’t bother to turn on the lights before smothering you with his body. Your mouth on his– wet, and eager, and bruising. His hands move to your face, in your hair, angling your head to give his lips access to the tender spot behind your ear. He’s got your dress bunched up around your waist. Takes up all the space between your legs, still too much fabric separating you. One of Wonwoo’s hands cast over the swell of your breast, his thumb tracing circles over your nipple through the thin fabric. You melt into the touch, rolling your hips against him, he sighs into your skin. “Can feel how hard you are,” you gasp, hands pulling at his hair. Makes his skin electric.

He moves faster, desperate, and you trap his body between your legs, angle your hips so his cock can rub against your clothed cunt just right. “Gonna ruin your trousers,” you whisper. Yeah yeah yeah, fuck it, he’ll pay for dry cleaning for once. The warmth, the wet, seeping through makes him insane. Needs it more than ever, needs you just like this, breath ragged and pupils blown. Needs you needing him so bad you can’t even get out of your clothes before you come. Needs you whining, needs you telling him how badly you want it. Won’t ask for anything, but you know what he likes. It’s always been easy with you.

“Feels good,” you say. Wonwoo nods into your neck, the pressure building so fast it’s blinding. Hips thrusting rough, rutting like an animal against your clit, desperate for you to get off before he falls apart but he’s so cl–”Missed you so much, Wonwoo.”

“Ah, fu- fuck–” You’re sucking a mark into his neck and Wonwoo can’t stop. Comes hard, breath catching and his rhythm is all fucked up, so fucking embarrased that he couldn’t draw this out. You’re talking him through it– sounds like heaven whispering how good he is, how good this feels, how you love how he sounds when he forgets himself. Didn’t realise he was groaning. A mess of a person reflected in the cum staining through the fabric of this horribly expensive rental.

Shit.

Needs to get out of this fucking suit. Needs to press his face into your cunt. Wants to ruin you for everyone else. Four years– you wasted four years with other people when you could’ve been doing this. Pushes away thoughts of you being someone else's not even a week ago. Some sick, possessive slice of him wants to reclaim you, mark you up and present you as his to the world. Wants to take the cum in his underwear and push it into your body. Look, see, she’s mine mine mine. Wonwoo’s chest aches.

Your clothes shed in silence. You lay him back against the pillows, kneeling next to him with spread legs, he loves when you let him see. You take one of his hands in yours and work circles into his palm as you pull two of his fingers into your mouth. Get them slick with spit, work your tongue over the tips of his fingers. He can hardly breathe watching you manoeuvre his hand down your body against your cunt, using him like a toy, until his remaining brain cells start to work and he takes over the movement. He’s half hard again already.

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he rasps. Crooks his fingers and you whine. Wants to eat the sounds spilling from your lips. Needs to do something with his mouth so he doesn’t say something stupid. “Sit on my face?” he asks, obvious urgency in his voice.

“N-no, like this first,” you say, almost like you’re begging. “Missed your hands so much.”

You look at him through hazy eyes as he works you quickly to the edge, pulling whimpers from your throat every time he plays with your clit. Feels you get impossibly wet when he slips his fingers in deep and moans unashamed along with you. You buck into his palm, head tipping forward to watch his soaked long fingers fucking into you agonisingly slow. Your breath stutters in your throat as he uses his other hand to tease your skin, trailing gently over the meat of your thigh, your ribs, cupping your breast and then dragging you over him to take a nipple in his mouth. Flicks his wet tongue over until it pebbles between his teeth, and you gasp.

“M’close already,” you whisper. “Gonna come, Wonwoo.” He ruts his hard cock into the air, chasing heat that isn’t there. Fucking loser. You don’t even notice with the way he’s got your breaths coming in fragments. You come undone like lightning, cunt soaking and pulsing around his fingers, your body collapses on top of him, your forehead pressed into his chest. Wonwoo wants a taste but wants to work you through the aftershocks first. He teases slow circles over your clit until you fall apart with a sob, and have to drag his hand out from between your legs.

He waits until you sag to your side– catches sight of your cheeks, flushed and sweat sticking to your skin, your pupils blown out and breathing shallow, more beautiful than he’s ever seen you– before he brings his fingers to his mouth to taste you on them.

“You’re indecent,” you laugh in disbelief. He almost feels gross until you’re babbling about how hot he is. How he makes you insane. You laugh again when he rolls you onto your back and settles between your legs. It’s been so long he needs to do this right. Starts by pressing a gentle kiss to your clit, ghosts more over your centre, waits for the sound of your gentle sigh before laving a thick stripe over you. Knows just the way to make you molten. He laps at your core until you’re almost sobbing. You jolt whenever his nose slips over your clit, and you’re begging for him to stop the tease. He’ll never deny you what you want. His tongue flicks fast over your clit, his face wet with you now. His moans sound muffled against your cunt when his name falls from your lips in staccato breaths.

Things have hardly changed. Four years and now, it’s just the fucking same. Your fingers still find purchase in his hair the same way. Mouths at your inner thighs to give your cunt a break. Shit, you’re so hot. You’re clenching around fucking nothing. Pulls the skin between his teeth and you’re writhing, trying to get his tongue back where you need it. Love when you get desperate like this.

Your nails drag over the nape of his neck and he’s close to losing control– fucks his cock against the mattress and almost cries at the pressure. You grind against his face, Wonwoo knows you’re close. Blacks out as he eats you like he’s been starving, his face so slick with spit and you it drips down his chin to the sheets. Doesn’t dare stop to breathe as he feels your legs begin to shudder over his shoulders. He watches the way you look down at him, brows pinched pleasure, waits for your lips to fall apart with a broken sob before licking into you so deep. He can’t tell who comes first, can’t tell who the enormous wet patch on the mattress belongs to, doesn’t fucking care, just wants to keep you.

He moves over you when you’re done, pressing chaste kisses to the corner of your mouth, to your cheeks, to your temple, before you’re giggling and pulling his body next to yours.

“Shift over,” he says, tapping at your hip. “Don’t wanna sleep in the wet patch.”

“Did you come again?” you ask, moving to the side to give him space.

Wonwoo nods, cheeks instantly flushing with heat. But there’s no need for embarrassment because you’re sucking in a breath. Seriously, you say “You have no idea how much I like that.”

He doesn’t reply, just fits his body against yours and presses a kiss to your shoulder. Lets your words wash over him. Sleep comes for him quicker than he wants it, but not before he slides his hand into yours, not before telling you he missed you too.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Mascara stains Wonwoo’s pillowcase but right now he doesn’t care. It’s still too early, still dark outside, but this room is hot, his breath is hot, your leg thrown over his waist is hot, and he’s considering just how monumental this is. It’s been almost four years since you touched him like this. In school it started with a ‘one kiss won’t ruin us’ and ended just before university with a ‘are we still friends?’ Way back then you both swore blind that you could just go back to your regular scheduled programming and nothing had to change. An agreement that those brief months you had (not quite) together in high school were just two best friends helping each other out. A mutual understanding that the love you share is completely and utterly platonic, and platonic friends can totally kiss/touch/fuck for a few months without it ruining something more special than sex. Except he didn’t really mean it. The trouble was that Wonwoo knew even then that he wanted something all consuming. Felt it with you. Wasn’t sure if you wanted the same.

Wonwoo is absolutely not spiralling.

You’re still sound asleep (always are after nights like the last), and his arm is trapped. Back then he’d use this time to bask in you. With you wrapped up in him it was easy to feel like you were completely his. He used to feel like he could do anything to you, and you’d let him. You’d want it, even. Didn’t actually want to take you over but knowing that he could– the intensity of that scared him. Now that feeling doesn’t come, maybe because you’ve had the separation of time and different lovers, he doesn’t know really. He still doesn’t understand what happened before university. Doesn’t get why you stopped coming over when he was so close to unbottling the feelings in his chest. Just knows that the conversation took him by surprise even after a week of distance. Just knows how his chest ached even as he agreed that it’d be sensible to put it all to bed before leaving your sleepy town for the big city. Knows how his gut twisted sharp when you said that just because you were going together didn’t mean you should go together. Maybe he should’ve protested then, showed you how much he needed you. Impossibilities stretch out before him– if it went that way, last night wouldn’t have happened, he wouldn’t be tracing tiny figures of eight on the small of your back right now. If you’d been together then, young and stupid, would you have stood the test of time?

You stir, half roused, and Wonwoo swallows the lump in his throat, choosing to be grateful for the now. He pulls your waist closer, runs his hand under your thigh to gently adjust the weight. Your eyes are still closed but you make a soft sound of surprise.

“What time is it?” you ask, voice thick with sleep.

“Too early,” he whispers back. “Go back to sleep.”

“I was dreaming,” you murmur.

“What about?”

Your smile is lazy against his skin. “Can’t tell you,” you say. “You’d run away.”

Wonwoo thinks hard about this. “I don’t run away,” he says, quiet and serious.

You blink open soft eyes to look at him, and Wonwoo feels too much. “Your face is all frozen, Wonwoo,” you say, gentle. “Are you okay?”

“Kiss me. Wish me good morning.” Wonwoo’s voice comes out with more edge than he intends. Doesn’t sound like his own. Feels cheap, something sleazy. Feels tragically guilty about it until he sees the look on your face. Like you want to eat him.

Your gaze is dark when you lock eyes with him. Push up with your hands, straddling his hips, his cock against your rear. You take his hands, larger than yours, place them on your ribcage, push them down down down, making goosebumps pebble along in his wake, until he’s using his thumbs to spread you apart. A little wet already, leaves a slick mark on his skin. He sighs at the sight of it. Your breath comes harder when he plays with your clit. You lean over, say– “Good morning, Wonwoo.” Press a delicate kiss to his top lip. “You’re gonna come inside me this time, okay?”

Wonwoo isn’t religious, but he feels like angels made you for him. Tells you so, and you gasp against his mouth. The way you kiss him this time is anything but angelic. Wet. Messy. Sharp teeth leaving imprints on his lips. It hurts. Nice in a way it shouldn’t be. A relief– the way the hurt makes his mind stop. You roll your hips against him and he makes a desperate sort of noise. Keeps his eyes focused on his fingers drawing circles on your clit. Your hands reach behind you to stroke his hardening cock and he arches into your touch. “Needy,” you chastise. Wonwoo nods.

Doesn’t want it like this. Wants you under him, wants to fuck you slow. Tells you so, the words come anguished, almost– and you nod dumbly. You don’t drag out the build up. Lay on your back, open your legs for him, spread them wide and line his cock up with your wet heat so quick he doesn’t have time to overthink. He makes a strangled sound when he pushes inside. The slide is agonisingly slow. He’s being so careful, as if you’d crack like china - fragile beneath him. You clench around his cock, thick and scalding- God, it’s sweet torture. Wants more of it.

You pull, desperate, at his waist, rolling your hips against him but he’s pulling out. This time he just slides the head in, hisses, teases, and back out. He does it again, and again, doesn’t know who this teasing is for. He’s licking into your mouth, pressing hungry kisses on your open lips, eating up all your noises, your whines, your soft moans. Things are still the same. He likes going so so deep into you, bottoming out and grinding his skin against your clit, likes when your moan comes muffled in his open wet mouth. It’s the same. Likes when your hands find purchase in the sheets, fist them in desperation, likes when you feel it’s not enough so you grab at his, intertwine your fingers and let him fuck you like this. Like you’re in love. It’s still the same.

“How do you feel, angel?”

“Uh–” A pause to suck in a fractured breath.

“Tell me how you feel,” he says. Almost begging. Would be mortifying if he whispered that against anyone else’s cheek. Can feel the wetness there too.

“Homesick,” you gasp. “I feel homesick.”

He fucks you harder then, driving into you so deep he could be part of you. Melt in, blend together, blur the lines, weave the fucking branches. You’re full of spells, he thinks. Made of magic. Doesn’t realise until after that he’s said it aloud. Wet starshine eyes on his as you come apart, pussy pulsing around his cock, impossibly wet, telling him come with me baby, babbling nonsense about how you want it inside, how you need it so bad, how he makes you feel so good.

Wonwoo really looks at you before he comes. Takes a moment to commit your face to memory. Any time could be the last and he needs this– needs you– to stay with him. Doesn’t know if he’ll ever be the same.

“Like that, Wonwoo” you’re saying, all breathy and high-pitched as he spills into you with a choked whine. “Like when you–” Cum slips out around his cock and he gathers it up on his fingers. Pushes them into your mouth to stop you talking. Can’t bear it. Can’t bear the way your pupils blow out and you lick the cum from his fingers. Can’t stand how his name sounds in your mouth, sweeter, more precious, because there’s something like love coating it. God, he wants to be yours.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Wonwoo likes your apartment better. Likes the way your sheets start to smell like him too. You’ve always carved out space for him but this time it’s deeper. Likes showering with you here, not to fuck, just to wash away the mess you make of each other. Likes holding you in his arms under the stream, running the lather across your skin, loving kisses pressed against your forehead. Lately he stays here more often than he goes home.

You haven’t said the words yet, neither has he. Doesn’t want to push too much too soon.

It’s just after nine on Sunday morning, and you’re out of– well, pretty much everything. He offers to go but you insist he stays in bed, hair messed up, sheets pooling in his bare lap, glasses slipping down his nose while he rereads Kafka on the Shore. “Stay just like that,” you say it like a demand, but you’re smiling, pulling a scarf around your neck to run down the street to the shop, maybe stop at the deli for breakfast. “Back in a bit, don’t move an inch.”

A few minutes go by when the shrill of the telephone in the living room punctuates the silence. Wonwoo doesn’t get up to answer, it’d be improper, what if it was your mother? So he lets it ring through to answerphone, and when it clicks on it takes him a moment to recognise the voice calling your name.

“Are you there? Pick up, darling, pick up.” Wonwoo knows Hongseok has been trying to get back together with you. You’d mentioned it a few weeks ago, how he’d sent flowers. You don’t even like roses.

“I saw you by the river yesterday,” he says. Wonwoo looks up, stares at the wall. You’d insisted on getting out of the apartment, pulled your bodies from soft sheets and into soft sweaters, and Wonwoo only complained a little bit. In truth he loved walking with you. That he can hold your hand in public and no one bats an eye. Loves that you can be his here, that you claim him too. “You’re with him now? How long, darling? Does he fuck you like I do? ”

Wonwoo scoffs. Hongseok is just jealous. Wonwoo gets it. He does. Even if he’d never dream of saying it.

Hongseok’s voice turns nasty now. “Do you think he’ll stay this time? Does he know you’ve been in love with him this whole time? Everyone else knows. He won’t love you properly, you know. He’s just using you like last time, is he still keeping you a secret? You don’t deserve that, darling. You don’t deserve to be hidden–”

Is that what you thought? That he hid you? Bile swirls in Wonwoo’s stomach. Does he do that? Did he hurt you?

“–he’s just gonna fuck you up again and you’re gonna be miserable. But he won’t let you be happy with anyone, will he? Selfish fucking prick, he’s so cruel to you. You don’t see it, do you? It’s pathetic how fucking dumb you are for him–”

Wonwoo didn’t think he was cruel. There is spit pooling in his mouth, his stomach churns. Is he cruel to you?

The line clicks off as Hongseok spits out every name under the sun, but Wonwoo doesn’t hear the rest as he retches into your bathroom sink.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Forty minutes later, you’re calling out to Wonwoo that you’re home as you kick off your shoes. “I got us bagels, do you want the salmon cream cheese or the egg and ba- oh! You’re up.”

Wonwoo sits on your sofa in soft sweats and a baggy white t-shirt. His skin and hair are damp from the shower. The whites of his eyes are bloodshot. “You okay?” you ask, tentatively.

“Hmm,” he says. “Didn’t feel too good earlier.”

“Poor you,” you say. “Will breakfast make you feel better?”

“No, sorry,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically stiff. “I think I should head home. Don’t wanna give you a bug.”

You laugh softly, unpacking the groceries from the bags. “You spat in my mouth last night, if you’ve got something then I’ll have it in no time,” you say. “C’mon, stay. I’ll look after you. I’ll make soup.”

But Wonwoo is already standing, pulls a little money from his wallet and leaves it on the table. “What’s that for?”

“Breakfast,” he says. “Feel bad you bought all this and I need to go.”

You frown. “Stop being strange, I don’t care about the food, just get the next one.”

Wonwoo sighs. He’s annoyed, you realise. This is weird.

In the end you let him leave without drama, but not without a kiss to his cheek. He leans into it a little longer than usual. Closes his eyes as he hugs you goodbye.

You eat breakfast alone. TV on, sound off, wondering what the fuck even happened before you notice the light of your answerphone flickering.

New message, left 09:21:

Hi Sweetheart! It’s your aunt’s birthday next week, just calling to remind you to send a card. Call me back, okay, love you, bye!

End of messages.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

sorry about the ending there :( if it helps, it does get better for them. thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging so my fic can get seen outside my own little space <3 i love seeing your feedback. if you'd prefer to scream at me directly, feel free to send me a message <3 ily, goodnight!

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gamblersdoll · 3 days ago

Text

shiu kong who loves his pretty girl, absolutely adores her— he just.. works a bit more than what he says he does.

“again?” you ask, lying on your back against the plush couch, breasts spilling to the side and you close your legs against his chest. “thats the second time we’ve stopped in the middle of sex just so you can take a call.”

“i know, sweet girl.” he says softly, holding your calve and pressing the end call button. “its work, i have to be there in fifteen minutes.” he sighs, pulling himself away and you feel even more empty. “ill make it up to you—“

“just go.” you scoff, pulling yourself together and trying to bite back tears. you hated this shit, always having to keep your relationship on hold simply because of his work life. you feel your chin get tilted up to the side. “what.”

“i promise, ill make it up to you, doll.” he presses his lips against your neck, the stubble on his lip tickling and poking you. “just let me do the dirty work.”

it feels good in the moment, especially when he says such sweet things and sounds like he means business. until its becoming suffocatingly obvious that he needs help on keeping his words.

“dinner looks great, baby.” you giggle, having his arm wrapped around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “i love it.”

“i knew you would.” he chuckles, lifting your head up to his and pressing a kiss. you wanted to mold to him, but he demanded softly that you did. his bigger hands were squeezing any places they could, sucking the breath out of your lungs and groping your hips—

“shiu, not here..” you whimper quietly, because that grope would be a trigger for you. it triggers carnal desire from both of you, knowing how you are.. messy.

“calm down, doll.” he cooly laughed, “im not going to fuck you here, just let me do what i want— just a little bit..”

you nod, feeling his lips trail down your neck with soft kisses. his fingers slip down to your thigh, gripping the flesh. “shiuu..”

he chuckles, suckling at the soft flesh of your jaw—

until his phone goes off, ringing a bit loud.. which was work. he sighs, he knows youre about to lose your shit. “hold on, baby.” he mumbles, answering and growing agitated. “alright, alright.” he replies, hanging up and pinching the bridge of his nose. “im sorry, doll—“

“just take me home, dont say shit to me.” you growled, folding your arms and holding your tears back. just one night, one night you could have with him and he actually had both feet in the door. it infuriates you, you having to be second to last in his life. you hear him exhale, leaving the bill and then reaching a hand out to walk you out.

you declined.

“yer so messy, tonight. you havent had any in a while, huh?” the black haired man snickers, biting at the back of your neck. “listen to how she mewls to me..” he kisses, holding your hips down and licking at his lips.

“oh shit.. fuuuck!—“ you squeal, head being pushed into the pillows and plowed into. “fuckfuck!—“ you moaned, you were getting too loud. your clit throbs, you were getting so close.. and he kept teasing you about it. he always did, always taking two fingers to your clit and circling your creamy cunny. “gunnacomegunnacome!”

“then come, dont keep me waitin’ .” he chuckles, groaning when he feels you clamp down on him. “there it is, there it is!” his eyes get primal, licking at his teeth.

it all feels like heaven, your body convulsing with overstimulation and you look up , finally from the darkness—

until your blood ran cold, seeing shiu kong sitting on the couch that rested in your room. he pulls the cigarette from his lips, exhaling and a small smile. “you having fun with toji, girly?” he taps his foot, crossing over his legs.

“i—“ you choke on spit, and suddenly moan. “ohh!”

toji grins, pressing his mushroom tip deeper into your cervix. “better answer before i come, too.”

property of gamblersdoll.

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aduh0308 · 3 days ago

Text

Use Me Instead [Choi Beomgyu]

Summary: He can’t help it, bucking his hips into the pillow just feels so freaking good to him, the soft pressure enough to get him over the edge every night. But he hasn’t told you, and when you come home from work early one night, catching him in the act, it seems inevitable that you will find out. genre: smut Warnings: pillow humping, dacryphilia, dry humping, hair pulling (m receiving), unprotected sex, reader calls him ‘baby’, ‘good boy’, ‘Gyu’, and ‘my Gyu,’ it’s not mentioned but they’re both virgins, cockwarming, breeding kinda?, mentions of future voyeurism and exhibitionism, not proofread word count: 1.2k an: repost from my old acc for gyus bday <33

The pillow between his legs is familiar, comfortable, a calm, pleasured feeling rushing over his body as his hips slowly rut into it.

He starts his pace slow, not bothering to muffle his moans with the pillow by his head. He knows you’re at work, and will be for at least another hour or so. Since you work the late shift, he’s managed to keep his secret, well, a secret.

It’s not like he thinks you’ll leave him if you discover what he does at night. No, that’s not it. But he’s not exactly sure what it is that makes him keep it secret. Maybe it’s just his ritual, a little dirty thing he does every night.

The thoughts leave his head as his hips continue. He’s on his stomach in the bed, the pressure between his legs is heavier this way. He has to do less when he’s in this position. Just a slow, rocking back-and-forth that stays steady right until the very end.

Soft little whimpers leave his lips, the silent night amplifying the sound. Tears wet the sheet beneath him as his pace quickens, almost frantic against the pillow. He can’t help but think of you, how you’d look on top of him, bouncing on him, how it would look to watch his dick disappear and you over and over again. He knows that he is so, so dirty for thinking these things. You two haven’t even done it yet, yet here he is, thinking of how it’d sound to hear his name falling from your lips, how it’d feel to be able to give you the pleasure that you need.

It’s these thoughts that tip him off the deep end, furiously thrusting his hips forward, the rub delicious and welcome.

He’s so, so close to cumming, when the door clicks open and he stops, caught like a deer in headlights. He freezes like pretending to be asleep will help just in case you already saw. The blanket is tucked over his legs so you can’t see how the pillow is pressed against him, and you lay yourself next to him, turning to face him.

You can tell he’s not asleep, his breathing a little too ragged, but admire how his lashes fan out against his cheeks. “Baby?” You whisper, lips a few inches from his, so close he can feel your words on his skin. “Are you awake?”

He nods slightly, eyes still shut, and you coo. “Awh, Gyu… you’re so cute.”

Beomgyu’s cheeks flush in the darkness, the sound of your voice coaxing a reaction from him that’s almost embarrassing, he risks a slight movement into the pillow.

You notice the tiny jolt his hips do, innocently snuggling your head under the blanket to get a peek at what’s going on.

You’re met with a sight that makes you smirk, face hidden by the blanket, and Beomgyu lets out a gasp when you run a hand over the bulge in his sweats.

“I- I can't!…” he stutters your name out, too flustered by you both noticing his position and your hands on him. You hum in a question, and he shakes his head, eyes falling closed. “N-no, keep going, please…”

A smirk tugs at the edges of your lips again, you gently part his legs, the pillow hitting the ground before you’re in between his legs, thigh pressed against the imprint of his dick clear through his pants.

“Use me instead,” you instruct, voice a coo in his ear. Beomgyu’s heart is racing, but he doesn’t dare disobey, too lost in need for his own pleasure anyways.

He slowly rocks his hips against your thigh, the friction of his pants against his dick making him whimper slightly.

The feeling of him pressed against you makes a throbbing sensation start in your pussy, and when his pace increases, you really can’t take it, your fingers trail to your clit, pressing circles, your body jolting in response.

Beomgyu’s cries of pleasure in your ear let you know he’s getting close, and you take your thigh away, a whine leaving his lips. “Please, don’t stop, ‘m so close…”

You don’t answer, fumbling to remove your pants, then his and his boxers. You don’t even bother taking off your panties, just sliding them to the side before kissing him fervently. “Gyu, need you inside,” you murmur against his lips, threading a hand through his hair.

A throaty noise of agreement is all you get in response, and you waste no time, pumping him in your fist twice before lowering yourself down. His tip grows your entrance, your thighs trembling in pleasure, and he can’t help but buck his hips up against yours, coaxing soft moans to bubble up from his lips.

You allow you both to adjust to this new position before slowly moving up and down, thighs burning from the effort. His name falls from your mouth repeatedly, your lips pressed to his neck, your grip tightening on his hair. Beomgyu’s body jolts in a response to your touch, tears pricking his eyes.

“Can you go a little faster for me, Gyu?” You request, your fingers moving to his arm, squeezing his bicep lightly.

His tall, slender frame trembles beneath you at your words, but his speed quickens, whimpers of pleasure leaving him.

You hum in approval, fingers tugging at his hair again. “Such a good boy, my Gyu…”

A small squeak escapes his lips at the name, incoherent whispers pressed to the side of your neck. They grow louder until you can hear him clearly, and within your own fog of pleasure, you smirk again.

“Say it again, please…” Beomgyu begs, eyes squeezed shut and his hands tight on your waist, quickening your speed.

“Say what?” You tease, threading your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “‘My Gyu’?”

He shakes his head quickly, his thrusts becoming sloppy, the tears brimming in his waterline slipping down his cheeks, his pleasure growing to an unbearable height. “Please, say again?”

You move your hands to his shoulders, gripping him tight as your own pleasure makes your legs practically go out, holding him for support as a rush of tingles spread to your legs. “My good boy, Gyu,” you moan out, lips pressed tight together.

Another whimper comes as his thrusts suddenly stop, his hips up and you slid down, your name leaving him in gasps and pleas and his body shaking, twitching slightly as his high hits him, eyes rolled back and back arched.

He looks so fucking pretty like that, fucked-out and tired, buried deep inside you, the hot sensation of his cum leaking out of you and down both your thighs and his, you can’t help but peak at the sight, holding him by his hand, his name leaving you like a chant, a mantra.

You bury your face in his neck, both your breaths ragged, and you giggle slightly. “How come you didn’t tell me you liked to use your pillow?”

His voice is breathy and low, the tone you’ve grown to love so much, when he responds. “Did… didn’t wanna, cause, I don’t know, maybe you’d think I was gross?”

You laugh slightly, laying next to him, him still inside you, your back against his chest. “I’d never think you were gross… I think it’s cute, actually.

“You should let me watch sometime.”

#adas hard hours #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu smut #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #beomgyu hard thoughts #beomgyu hard hours

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