#but was really struggling to make it look good

[enhaflixer]

ENHA HARD HOURS: reaction to you tying them up. bf!enhypen x f!reader cw (18+ MDNI) : bondage, nippleplay, overstim, degradation, facesitting, cockslapping, humiliation, crying big fat tears, swearing so explicit no words for my ovulation demon fic obvs

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

Heeseung thought this would be easy.

When you straddled his hips and secured the restraints around his wrists, he just grinned, stretching his arms like he was comfortable, like this was just a fun little game that he was going to win.

“Damn, baby,” he chuckled, smirking up at you. “You really wanna keep me in place that bad?”

But now?

Now, Heeseung isn’t smirking anymore.

He’s panting, his chest heaving, his wrists straining against the restraints because he desperately, desperately needs to touch you. But he can’t. He’s completely at your mercy, and fuck, it is killing him.

His cock is already so hard it hurts, flushed deep red, thick and leaking, the veins along the shaft standing out with every desperate pulse. It’s long, perfectly curved, the kind of dick that feels dangerous—one that stretches you so deep it makes your legs shake every time.

It’s twitching in anticipation, the swollen tip glistening, because you’re kneeling between his legs, your hands wrapped around the base, and Heeseung is fucking dying.

“F-fuck, baby,” he breathes, his voice wrecked, his head pressing back against the pillows. “Please—”

You hum, tilting your head as you drag your thumb over his slit, spreading the wetness, watching the way his thighs clench in response.

“You’re already shaking,” you murmur, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to his tip.

Heeseung lets out a helpless little whimper, his lip trembling, his eyes fluttering closed as he tugs at the restraints again.

“I—fuck, I can’t,” he gasps. “Let me touch you—please, baby, please—”

You just grin, your breath hot against his aching cock, before you finally wrap your lips around him—slow, wet, torturously soft.

He whines.

Like, full-body tremble, desperate, broken fucking whines.

“Ohhh, f-fuck, baby—”* His voice shakes, his head lolling to the side, his mouth falling open, his brows furrowing tight in pleasure.

You take him deeper, your tongue dragging along the underside, your throat tight around him, and Heeseung lets out a wrecked sob, his hips jerking up involuntarily.

“Shit—s-shit, I—” His fingers curl tight in the restraints, his muscles locking up, his face a perfect mix of agony and bliss as he tries so fucking hard not to come already.

His Adam’s apple bobs, his jaw clenching, his eyelashes fluttering as he struggles to keep his eyes on you, watching the way your lips stretch around his cock, the way your tongue flicks so perfectly over his slit.

“Oh my f-fucking god,” he gasps, his whole body jerking, his thighs trembling hard.

You pull off with a slow, wet pop, licking the tip, smirking as his hips twitch beneath you.

“You look so good like this, baby,” you murmur, letting your tongue drag over the thick vein along his shaft, savoring the way his abs clench tight in response.

Heeseung lets out a shaky breath, his fingers gripping at nothing, his head tilting back sharply.

“Y-you’re—”* he chokes out, voice so wrecked it barely sounds like him anymore. “You’re so fucking evil—”

You just laugh softly, before taking him all the way down, your throat swallowing around him, sucking deep and slow.

It fucking breaks him.

“Ohhh—fuck, f-fuck, baby, I—” His voice cracks, his entire body locking up, his muscles going rigid as he yanks at the restraints, so fucking desperate to grab you, to pull your hair, to hold onto something—but he can’t.

All he can do is take it.

“Fucking hell, I—oh my god—” Heeseung’s brows furrow so tight, his jaw slack, his thighs trembling violently as he fights it—as he fights losing himself completely.

But when you swallow around him again, moaning softly, Heeseung lets out a shattered sob, his head thrown back, his throat exposed, his hips jerking helplessly.

“I’m—I’m gonna—fuck, fuck, baby, I—”

You suck him down one more time, hard and deep, and Heeseung breaks completely, his whole body arching off the bed, his mouth falling open in a silent scream as he comes so hard he nearly blacks out.

You swallow everything, sucking gently, working him through it, feeling the way his thighs shake violently, the way his body shudders beneath you, completely fucking wrecked.

When you finally pull back, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to his oversensitive tip, Heeseung lets out a weak, breathless laugh, his chest still rising and falling heavily.

You smirk, trailing your fingers up his stomach, watching the way his abs clench in overstimulation.

“Still think this was gonna be easy?” you tease, voice all sweetness and innocence.

Heeseung just lets out a shaky exhale, his arms going completely limp in the restraints, his face still blissed-out and wrecked.

Then, finally, his head lolls to the side, and he lets out a low, exhausted groan.

“Never fucking again,” he mutters, his voice hoarse as hell. “Never—fucking—again—am I letting you tie me up.”

You just grin, untying his wrists, pressing a soft, mocking kiss to his forehead.

“Sure, baby.”

But you both know he’s lying.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠

Jay has always been a giver.

It’s just the way he is

Right now, he’s tied up beneath you, completely helpless, his wrists bound tightly to the headboard, his broad chest rising and falling in shaky, uneven breaths, his jaw clenched so fucking tight he looks like he might actually lose his mind.

You’re riding him slow, rolling your hips in deep, dragging circles, feeling every inch of him stretch you perfectly, every little vein and ridge pressing inside you just right—but you never let him have more.

You keep it lazy, keep it slow, torturing him with every single movement.

“You look so fucking good like this, baby,” you murmur, leaning down, letting your lips brush over his ear, your breath hot against his feverish skin.

Jay lets out a wrecked, shuddering exhale, his fingers flexing uselessly against the restraints, his muscles tensing so hard you can feel them rippling beneath you.

“Can’t even touch me,” you continue, mocking, grinding down just a little harder, feeling the way his cock twitches inside you at the words.

His throat bobs, his lips parting, his eyes completely blown out, a desperate, frantic glaze taking over his normally confident expression.

“F-fuck,” he chokes out, his head tilting back, his biceps straining against the silk ties, yanking just enough to test them—but not enough to break free.

Because Jay is too good, too willing to give you whatever you want.

You just want to ruin him.

“You’re always so in control, aren’t you, baby?” you purr, dragging your nails down his chest, watching the way his abs clench and flex under your touch.

“Always making sure I feel good first?” Your nails scratch lightly over his nipples, and his breath stutters, his thighs twitching beneath you.

“Always such a good husband for me.”

Jay lets out a wrecked, filthy groan, his head tilting to the side, his jaw going slack, his lips parting on a helpless, choked-out moan as he bucks up instinctively—but you press your hand against his stomach, forcing him still.

He whimpers.

Actually, fucking whimpers.

Fuck, you love it.

“Look at you, baby,” you whisper, mocking. “All tied up and still trying to take care of me.”

Jay gasps, his body shuddering beneath you, his cock pulsing so hard inside you that you can feel him losing control.

“You wanna fuck me so bad, don’t you?” you murmur, letting your tongue flick out against his earlobe, biting down softly, dragging your nails down his arms where he’s straining against the ties.

“Wanna hold my hips, wanna flip me over and fuck me into the mattress, right?”

Jay groans—loud, deep, so wrecked it makes your whole body tighten around him.

“Fuck—fuck, baby, I—” His voice catches, his chest heaving, his hands clenching into fists as he struggles, trembles, tries so hard to hold himself together.

“Can’t, baby—”* he gasps, eyes squeezing shut, his head tilting back sharply. “Can’t—can’t take it—”

You grin, shifting forward, grinding down deeper, your lips brushing over his panting mouth, just barely not kissing him.

“You don’t get to take anything,” you whisper, cruel and sweet all at once, dragging your tongue along the seam of his lips before pulling away.

“You get what I give you.”

Jay sobs..

His whole body tenses violently, his breath coming in sharp, broken gasps, his thighs trembling uncontrollably beneath you.

“Please,” he gasps, his voice wrecked and desperate, his hips jerking up helplessly, his abs clenching. “Please, baby—let me—fuck, I need—please—”

You finally, finally, give him what he wants.

You start bouncing on his cock, fast, relentless, taking him deep and rough, making his headboard slam into the wall, and Jay fucking screams, his voice breaking, his eyes rolling back so hard all you see is white.

“F-fuck—fuck, I—I’m—” His entire body tenses, his muscles locking up, his jaw going slack, his fingers clawing at the restraints as he loses himself completely, coming so hard inside you it makes his thighs shake violently beneath you.

His whole body trembles, his lips parting around silent, choked-out moans, and you ride him through it, slowing down, grinding deep as he whimpers softly, his breath coming in sharp, erratic gasps.

When he finally comes back down, he just lays there, completely limp, his skin flushed deep red, his body still twitching from aftershocks, his head lolling to the side.

You reach up, untying the restraints, letting his arms fall to the bed, completely useless and weak, and he just groans, his lips parted, his entire body wrecked beyond belief.

After a long, breathless pause, he turns his head slightly, staring at you, eyes still glassy and dazed.

Then, finally, he lets out a weak, hoarse laugh, voice so fucked-out and exhausted it’s almost adorable.

You grin, pressing a kiss to his sweaty, overheated chest, tracing a finger down his still-trembling stomach.

“Still think you’re the one who’s always in control, baby?”

Jay just lets out a shaky exhale, tilting his head back against the pillows, a lazy, satisfied smirk forming on his lips.“I think,” he breathes, grinning, “I just fell even more in love with you.”

𝐒𝐢𝐦 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧

Jake is so fucking frustrated he’s actually about to start kicking and screaming like a toddler.

He thought this was going to be fun—that you’d tie him up, tease him a little, then let him have you.

Oh, how wrong he was.

He’s tied to the bed, his wrists secured tightly, his body slick with sweat, his abs tensing uncontrollably, and you’re just hovering over him, your wetness dragging against the head of his cock, so fucking close but not giving him anything.

Jake is losing his fucking mind.

“Baby—baby, I swear to fucking God—” His voice is wrecked, raspy, and thick with frustration, his arms pulling against the restraints, his fingers flexing like he’s actually about to rip them apart.

You just smirk, dragging your nails down his trembling stomach, feeling the way his muscles clench violently.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you whisper, tilting your head, mocking him. “You look so… tense.”

Jake lets out a high, desperate groan, his thighs twitching, his cock throbbing angrily, a sharp pulse running through him every time you roll your hips just enough to tease.

“You fucking—”* he gasps, his eyes wild and unfocused, his lips swollen from biting them so hard, his hips jerking up just for you to press him back down.

“I swear to fucking GOD,” he growls, thrashing against the restraints, his head pressing into the pillow, his voice shaking. “If you don’t sit the fuck down on my cock right now—baby, I will scream so fucking loud the neighbors will call the fucking cops—”

Your eyes widen, caught between shock and amusement, and before he can say another word, you slap a hand over his mouth, muffling his wrecked little gasps, and shove two fingers past his lips.

Jake chokes on a whimper, his whole body arching violently, his tongue immediately latching onto your fingers, sucking so hungrily, so filthy, his cheeks hollowing out as he moans around them.

“That’s better,” you murmur, watching the way his eyes flutter, the way his breath stutters, the way his hips keep twitching desperately beneath you, like he physically can’t control himself anymore.

His fingers curl into fists, his chest rising and falling in ragged, uneven breaths, his thighs trembling uncontrollably as he moans around your fingers, his whole body writhing beneath you.

“Such a fucking brat,” you purr, dragging your free hand down his throat, wrapping your fingers around it just enough to make him shudder.

“Always so fucking mouthy, always acting up—”* you press your fingers down slightly on his tongue, feeling the way it writhes against you, hot and slick, the way his lips tremble around them.

“Now look at you,” you mock, grinding down just a little, just enough to let the head of his cock push inside you, squeezing tight around the tip—but not letting him have more.

Jake screams into your hand, his back arching off the bed, his fingers flexing violently in the restraints, his whole body on the verge of breaking.

“F-fuck—fuck, I—please—”* his voice is a mess, muffled and wrecked, his hips jerking up wildly, but you slap his thigh hard, making him yelp into your palm.

“No, baby,” you breathe, smirking, pressing your wet fingers deeper into his mouth, feeling his tongue swirl desperately around them.

“You don’t get to act like a little fucking menace and still get what you want.”

Jake whines, actually whines, high and desperate, his eyes rolling back slightly, his breath coming in shaky, choked-out sobs.

“Y-you’re—oh, fuck—you’re so fucking mean,” he gasps, his words slurred around your fingers, drool slipping down the corner of his mouth, his whole body trembling like he’s on the verge of breaking completely.

You grin, finally pulling your fingers from his mouth, dragging them down his heaving chest, feeling the way his skin burns beneath your touch.

“Oh, baby,” you whisper, your lips ghosting over his ear, your voice sickly sweet and cruel.

“You haven’t even seen mean yet.”

Then, without warning, you slam yourself down onto him, taking him all the way in one deep, brutal motion.

Jake screams.

Not moans. Not groans.

A full, raw, broken scream, his head snapping back, his eyes rolling back so violently you almost think he passed out, his fingers pulling against the restraints like he’s trying to rip himself free.

“F-fuck—fuck, f-fuck, I—”* his voice cracks, his hips jolting up wildly, his whole body tensing violently beneath you, like he’s teetering on the edge of cumming already.

You don’t let him.

You slow down, grinding instead of bouncing, rolling your hips in deep, torturous circles, feeling the way his cock twitches inside you, the way his thighs jerk helplessly, the way his breath comes out in weak, shaky gasps.

“You feel so fucking good like this, baby,” you whisper, dragging your nails down his chest, watching the way his stomach jumps under your touch, the way his lips tremble helplessly.

“Completely helpless, completely mine.”

Jake sobs, full-body shaking, his wrists pulling so hard at the restraints that the headboard is knocking against the wall, his hips stuttering violently.

“B-baby, please—fuck, I—”* he gasps, choking on his own moans, his voice so hoarse, so destroyed. “I c-can’t—please, please—”

You grin, dragging your tongue up his throat, biting down hard on his racing pulse, making his whole body jolt violently beneath you.

“Aww, baby,” you mock, grinding down even harder, feeling the way he chokes on a wrecked little cry, his whole body convulsing.

“Are you gonna cry for me?”

Jake screams, his thighs clenching beneath you, his cock pulsing so violently inside you that you know he’s seconds from breaking completely.

“I—I’m gonna—f-fuck, fuck, I—baby, baby, please, let me—”

You slam your hips down one last time, and Jake breaks completely, thrashing beneath you, his breath coming in desperate, choked-out sobs, his whole body tensing so hard it shakes the bed.

And when he finally goes limp, completely wrecked, his chest heaving, his throat raw, his body still twitching from the aftershocks, you grin, running a lazy hand over his sweat-slick stomach.

“See, baby?” you hum sweetly, pressing a soft kiss to his panting mouth.

“That’s what you get for being a fucking brat.”

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧

Sunghoon didn’t take you seriously at all.

When you told him about your friend tying up her boyfriend and ruining him, he just blinked at you, his expression bored, unimpressed.

“Okay?” he had said, scrolling through his phone.

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s it? No reaction?”

“What do you want me to say?” He finally looked at you, tilting his head lazily. “I mean, it’s not that crazy. You tie the guy up, tease him a little, make him beg, then fuck him. Right?”

You licked your lips, leaning in. “You think you could handle it?”

Sunghoon snorted, smirking as he leaned back against the couch. “Baby, please. I could handle you with my hands tied behind my back.”

Your smile turned dangerous.

“Then let’s find out.”

But in reality, Sunghoon is fucked.

His wrists are tied above his head, stretched tight, his chest slick with sweat, his abs flexing uncontrollably as you ride him with no mercy, bouncing on his cock, taking him deep, rough, and fast.

He literally hasn’t said a word in ten minutes.

At first, he grunted, let out those deep, guttural groans, his thighs tensing, his body shaking beneath you as he tried so hard to hold on.

His jaw is slack, his lips parted, his eyes completely unfocused, so fucking gone that he can barely even breathe properly.

“Too much, baby?” you mock, dragging your nails down his sweaty chest, watching his muscles twitch violentlybeneath your touch.

Sunghoon just nods frantically, his breath catching, his fingers curling uselessly against the restraints as his hips twitch up, completely involuntary, completely desperate.

“But you’re taking it so well,” you purr, grinding down deep, rolling your hips slow and heavy, making him feel every inch of you.

Sunghoon lets out a choked, breathless groan, his thighs trembling violently, his whole body locking up beneath you.

“G-gonna—f-fuck—”* His voice finally breaks, and then—

He comes so fucking hard that his whole body tenses violently, his head snapping back against the pillow, his chest heaving as his cock pulses inside you, filling you so deep you swear you feel it everywhere.

But you don’t stop.

Not even when his thighs twitch, not even when his stomach spasms, not even when his breath stutters violently, too overstimulated, too much, too good.

You just slow down, rolling your hips deep, teasing, milking him through it, your nails dragging over his flushed skin, your lips tracing down his chest—

You pull off him completely.

Sunghoon lets out a sharp, broken breath, his whole body trembling, but before he can even process what’s happening, your hand wraps around his cock, slick and so fucking sensitive, and you start stroking him all over again.

His head snaps up instantly, his eyes wild and unfocused, his lips parting on a silent, breathless moan as his body jolts violently beneath you.

“W-wait—fuck, baby—”* His voice catches, but you ignore him, leaning down, letting your lips brush over his flushed skin, your tongue flicking over his already-sensitive nipple.

You bite down.

Hard.

Sunghoon shouts—the first full sentence he’s spoken all night—

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!—”*

You just grin, suck harder, dragging your nails down his quivering stomach, feeling the way his cock twitches uncontrollably in your grip, his whole body rocking with overstimulation.

“Oh, baby,” you mock, licking the bruise forming on his swollen, overstimulated nipple, squeezing his cock just right, watching his abs flex violently.

“I haven’t even gotten started yet.”

Sunghoon lets out a wrecked, helpless moan, his breath coming in frantic gasps, his head thrashing to the side, but you just lick a slow, teasing stripe up his throat, biting another dark hickey into the soft skin just below his jaw.

“Everyone’s gonna see that one, baby,” you whisper, grinning against his feverish skin.

Sunghoon just shudders violently, his eyes fluttering shut, his jaw going slack as his cock pulses in your grip, his breath coming out in sharp, erratic gasps.

“Ohhh, f-fuck—fuck, I—”* His whole body locks up, his fingers weakly twitching, his thighs spasming— he comes again, his hips jerking helplessly, his chest rising sharply, his lips trembling from how hard he’s shaking beneath you.

But you don’t stop.

Not until he’s come four whole times, his breath ragged and uneven, his body twitching violently, his lips parted in silent, choked-out sobs, his wrists weakly flexing against the restraints.

When you finally, finally untie him, letting his arms drop, he just lays there, completely limp, his chest heaving, his eyes unfocused.

After a long, shaky exhale, he blinks up at you, his face completely wrecked.

Then, finally, he lets out a hoarse, breathless laugh, his voice weak and ruined.

“You milked me dry like a fucking cow.”*

You just grin, pressing a soft, tender kiss to his damp forehead, brushing his hair out of his face.

“You were perfect, baby,” you whisper sweetly, kissing him like he’s the most magnificent, precious thing in the world.

Sunghoon lets out a tired, shaky exhale, his body still trembling beneath you, his eyes fluttering shut.

“There’s something fucking wrong with you,” he mutters.

You just laugh, kissing his jawline, his nose, his flushed cheeks.

𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐨

Sunoo was always dramatic, but this?

This was a new level.

“You want to tie me up?” He gasped, clutching his chest, staring at you like you’d just suggested burning his wardrobe. “Baby, are you planning on murdering me?”

You rolled your eyes, straddling his lap and pinching his cheek, making him pout even harder.

“No, baby,” you murmured, running your fingers down his jaw, tilting his chin up. “I just wanna see you squirm.”

Sunoo huffed, looking anywhere but at you, but you caught the way his throat bobbed, the way his fingers twitched slightly against your thighs.

“I don’t squirm,” he said stubbornly.

You smirked, leaning in, whispering against his lips—

“We’ll see about that.”

An hour later, Sunoo is tied up and completely fucked out, his wrists bound tightly to the headboard, his chest rising and falling in uneven, shallow breaths, his pretty lips swollen from all the pouting and whining he’s been doing.

But the best part?

He still hasn’t cum.

You’ve been playing with him for what feels like forever, keeping him on edge, bringing him right to the brink of release, then pulling away at the last second—again and again and again..

His cheeks are flushed deep pink, his eyelashes damp with unshed tears, his thighs trembling as he tugs uselessly at the restraints.

“B-baby, please—” His voice is soft, desperate, breathless, his lips trembling as he squirms beneath you.

You grin, dragging your nails down his stomach, watching the way his body jolts violently at the sensation.

“Please what?” you murmur, your fingers hovering over his leaking cock, but not touching him at all.

Sunoo whimpers, his hips twitching helplessly, his fingers clenching into fists.

“I—”* he gasps, his head tilting back, his pretty throat exposed and begging for attention, his chest rising sharply.

You take advantage of it, leaning down, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the delicate skin just below his collarboe, sucking until you know it’ll leave a mark.

Sunoo gasps sharply, his whole body tensing beneath you, his breath stuttering as a wrecked little whimper slips past his lips.

“You’re so mean,” he pouts, his voice cracking on the last word, his wrists twisting against the ties like he wants to throw a tantrum.

You just smile, letting your lips trail down his collarbone, over his flushed chest, lower and lower.

“Oh—fuck—” His voice breaks completely, his eyes squeezing shut, his thighs snapping together in frustration.

“Oh, baby,” you murmur, kissing your way down his chest, your hand finally, finally wrapping around his aching cock. “You’re shaking.”

Sunoo lets out the most desperate little noise, his breath catching, his whole body going taut beneath you.

“B-baby—”* he gasps, his voice so high and sweet and helpless it makes you clench around nothing.

“Shhh,” you coo, stroking him slow, torturous, teasing, feeling the way his cock twitches uncontrollably in your grip. “Be my good boy and take it.”

Sunoo whimpers, his fingers flexing uselessly, his breath coming in short, frantic little gasps.

“I—I c-can’t—”

“Yes, you can, baby,” you whisper, dragging your thumb over the swollen, sensitive tip, watching as his stomach tenses sharply, his breath stuttering in his throat.

Sunoo shakes his head frantically, his lips trembling, his eyes squeezed shut so tight that tears slip down his cheeks.

“B-baby, please—p-please, I—I need to—”

You lean in, lips brushing against his ear, your voice soft, teasing, dripping in affection—

“Then cum for me, baby.”

Sunoo lets out a sharp, shattered little cry, his entire body seizing up, his thighs clenching, his fingers curling into fists, his mouth falling open in a breathless, high-pitched moan as he finally, finally spills over your hand.

His chest heaves, his wrists straining weakly against the restraints, his whole body convulsing violently as he rides it out, his breath coming in ragged, uneven sobs.

When it’s over, when he finally collapses against the sheets, completely limp and wrecked, you untie his wrists, massaging the delicate skin where the fabric had been.

Sunoo’s eyes flutter open, dazed and glassy, his lips still parted, his breath still unsteady.

“You,” he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper, “are actually evil.”

You just laugh softly, pressing kisses to his damp forehead, his flushed cheeks, his trembling lips.

“But you were so good for me, baby,” you murmur, cupping his face, kissing him like he’s the most precious thing in the world.

Sunoo huffs, rolling his eyes dramatically, but his arms immediately wrap around your waist, pulling you against his chest.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, his voice weak and breathless. “Now shut up and hold me.”

You just smile, curling up against him, feeling his breath slow, his body relax beneath you.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧

Jungwon was always so composed.

Always the one in charge, always the one controlling the pace, making you beg, making you squirm, dragging things out just to hear you cry for him.

“You get so cute when you’re desperate,” he had said once, watching you fall apart, mocking you while he kept you on edge for what felt like hours.

“I wonder how long I can make you last before you break.”

That night, you had cried for him.

Tonight, he’s going to cry for you.

You’re going to tear him apart, ruin him so completely that he’ll never, ever try to put you through that again.

By the time you’re finished with him, he won���t just be begging for release—he’ll be begging for mercy.

Looking back it almost makes you laugh because Jungwon is so far gone that it’s almost pathetic.

His wrists are bound tight to the headboard, his fingers curling helplessly, his thighs trembling violently, his cock twitching, untouched, leaking all over himself.

The worst of all?

He hasn’t cum once.

You’ve edged him so many times that his body doesn’t even know how to handle it anymore, his breath coming in frantic, choked-off sobs, his cheeks slick with real, wet, desperate tears.

“P-please—please, f-fuck, I can’t—” His voice is so hoarse, so completely broken, his breath ragged and uneven, his body twitching, shaking, begging for anything.

You just smirk.

“Aww, poor baby,” you mock, gripping his jaw, forcing him to look at you, watching the way his lips tremble.

“You always act so tough.”

You drag your nails down his chest, watching the way his muscles tense, his abs flexing, his stomach spasming involuntarily.

“And now look at you.”

You slap his cock lightly, watching as his hips jolt up violently, his breath catching in a sharp, helpless moan.

“F-fuck—ohh, f-fuck, please, please, baby, I—I n-need—”

You slap him again.

Right on his leaking, swollen tip, precum splattering onto his stomach, his whole body jolting from the impact.

Jungwon screams, his thighs shaking uncontrollably, his wrists yanking at the restraints, but you just laugh softly.

“Oh, you need something?” you taunt, gripping his jaw, forcing him to look at you, watching the way his swollen lips quiver.

“What do you need, slut?”

Jungwon sobs again, completely humiliated, his body betraying him.

“P-please—please, let me cum—please, I c-can’t, I c-can’t—”

You tilt your head, fake pouting.

“Oh, baby,” you whisper, voice sickly sweet, cruel, condescending. “You can’t?”

Then, you grab a fistful of his damp hair, yanking his head back, making his throat expose itself to you, his breath stuttering, a choked-off moan spilling past his lips.

“That’s funny, baby,” you whisper, dragging your tongue up his throat, feeling his pulse hammer violently against your lips.

“Because I remember you making me fucking beg. I remember you edging me until I was crying, just like this.”

Jungwon lets out a sharp, desperate sob, his thighs clenching, his hips twitching, completely lost in it.

“I—I’m s-sorry—please, please, I’ll be good, I’ll be so f-fucking good, I s-swear—”

You grin, gripping his chin harder, tilting his head up, forcing him to stare at you.

“You’re already my good little fucktoy, baby.”

You slap his cock again, harder this time, watching as his body twitches violently, his mouth falling open in a silent scream.

“My pathetic little bitch.”

Jungwon whimpers, actual sobs wracking through his chest, his tears slipping down his temples, pooling on the pillow beneath him.

“You gonna cry harder for me, baby?”

He nods frantically, completely lost, completely gone.

“P-please—please—please—”

“Then cum, you fucking whore.”

The second you wrap your lips around his cock, sucking him deep and tight, Jungwon fucking loses it.

His entire body seizes up, his legs shaking so hard the whole bed moves, his wrists pulling at the restraints so violently that the headboard slams against the wall, his mouth falling open in a broken, wrecked scream.

He fucking breaks.

Jungwon cums so violently his entire body shudders, his stomach spasming, his throat bobbing as sobs rip through him, his voice so destroyed he can’t even form words anymore.

You swallow every drop, humming around him, your tongue dragging along his overly sensitive tip, watching the way his body jerks violently with overstimulation.

But you don’t stop.

You stroke him through it, slow and tight, dragging every last drop from him, his cock pulsing, twitching, his whimpers turning into helpless, wrecked cries.

“T-too much—f-fuck, b-baby—”* His voice is so weak, so ruined, so utterly fucking destroyed that he can barely even breathe.

But you keep going.

You suck harder, dragging your nails down his trembling thighs, taking him all the way back into your mouth, and he shrieks, his whole body flinching violently, his breath catching in sharp little gasps.

“Oh, f-fuck—oh, f-fuck—oh my god—please—please—”

He’s struggling now, actively fighting against the restraints, his body jerking uncontrollably, trying to pull away, trying to escape—

But you don’t let him.

“Awww, baby,” you coo, mocking, your mouth still wrapped tight around his cock. “What’s wrong? I thought you liked being in control?”

Jungwon sobs, thrashing beneath you, actually trying to get away, but he can’t.

“N-no more—please—please, baby, I-I can’t—”

And then he cums again.

So hard that his whole body convulses, his legs shaking, his chest rising sharply, his voice breaking completely, his sobs turning into nothing but gasps for air.

This time, his body just stops working.

Even as you slow your strokes, even as you lick the last of him away, even as you finally pull off of him, Jungwon is completely still.

His head lolls to the side, his chest rising and falling in slow, uneven breaths, his body weak, trembling, completely destroyed.

He passes out.

You carefully untie his wrists, massaging his twitching arms, pressing soft kisses to his damp forehead.

Just as you start to move away his arms shoot out, wrapping around you like a fucking koala, pulling you into his chest so tight you can barely move.

“Shut the fuck up,” he mumbles, his voice wrecked, hoarse, completely fucking gone.

You grin.

“Sure, Won”

“You’re a fucking demon.”

You laugh softly, curling into him.

“I know, baby.”

𝐍𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐤𝐢

“Come on, Niki,” you pouted, straddling his lap, holding the silk ties up with big, pleading eyes. “Just once. For me?”

Niki just raised an eyebrow, giving you that infuriatingly smug grin, stretching his long limbs behind his head like he wasn’t even taking you seriously.

“I don’t see the point,” he mused. “I’m already stronger than you. If I wanted to get out, I’d just… get out.”

You groaned, throwing yourself onto his chest dramatically. “It’s not about that! It’s about the experience, the control, the trust, the—”

“Blah, blah, blah,” he mocked, rolling his eyes. “Fine. I’ll let you tie me up. If it’ll make you happy, baby.”

You perked up instantly, grinning as you grabbed his wrists.

“Finally!”

Now?

Now, you’re two seconds from losing your damn mind.

Because Niki is absolutely ruining this.

Every time you tie him up, every time you think you’ve got him right where you want him—

He fucking escapes.

Like it’s nothing.

Like you’re not even trying.

The first time, you had him tied up nicely, wrists secured, headboard shaking, your lips trailing down his throat—and the next thing you knew, he was flipping you onto your back, his arms suddenly completely free as he grinned down at you.

“What the—NIKI!” you yelped, smacking his arm. “How did you—”

“Baby, come on,” he laughed, scooping you up effortlessly, pinning you beneath him like the whole tying-up thing never happened. “I’m literally taller than you. Did you really think I’d stay tied up?”

You pouted angrily, wiggling under him. “THAT’S NOT THE POINT!”

Take Two: Riding Him?

“Just stay tied up,” you whined, adjusting the silk restraints around his wrists again, glaring at him. “And don’t you dare break free this time, or so help me—”

Niki snorted, smirking up at you as you sank down onto him, taking him deep, your hands braced against his chest.

“Mmm, I’ll try, baby,” he murmured, watching you grind down, slow and deep, his lips parting on a low groan.

For once, it seemed like he was actually taking it seriously.

You relaxed, rolling your hips, settling into the moment—

Until—

SNAP.

You felt it before you even saw it.

The ties? Gone.

His hands? Completely free.

And the worst part?

He didn’t even do it on purpose—he just shifted slightly, and the fabric came undone like it was fucking Velcro.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” you screamed, shoving his chest in frustration, but the bastard just laughed, gripping your hips, rolling you deeper onto him.

“You really thought that would hold me?” he mocked, tilting his head, grinning like the little shit he was.

“I SPENT FIFTEEN MINUTES TYING YOU UP!”

“And I appreciate the effort, baby,” he cooed, flipping you onto your back effortlessly, pinning you beneath him again.

“But let’s be real… you can’t actually keep me down.”

Final Attempt: Face-Sitting

At this point, you were ready to lose it.

“Okay,” you said, shaking out your hands like an athlete preparing for battle, retying his wrists so tight that there was NO WAY he was getting out.

“This time, you’re staying put.”

Niki grinned up at you, that cocky glint in his eyes. “Sure, baby.”

You scowled, climbing up, hovering over his face, settling your weight down as you finally—finally—had your moment of victory.

Or so you thought.

Because the second you lowered yourself onto him, the second his mouth made contact, his arms shot out, grabbing your thighs, yanking you down so hard you almost fell forward.

“NIKI! YOU��RE SUPPOSED TO BE TIED UP—”

He didn’t even let you finish.

Didn’t let you breathe.

Didn’t even let you process the betrayal.

Because in the next second, he was devouring you like a man starved, his grip on your thighs bruising, pulling you down so tight against his face that you had no choice but to take it.

Your body jerked violently, your fingers gripping the headboard for dear life, your breath knocked right out of youas his tongue moved so filthy, so deep, so desperate that your brain literally stopped functioning.

“N-Niki—oh my god—”

Then you heard it.

He was laughing.

Actually laughing against you, like this was the funniest fucking thing in the world, like he had just won some kind of twisted competition you didn’t even sign up for.

That’s when you snapped.

“GET YOUR FACE OUT OF THERE, YOU MENACE!” you shrieked, trying to pry his head away, trying to push yourself up, but it was fucking useless.

He had you locked down tight, had you right where he wanted you, and there was no escape.

“Nope,” he mumbled into you, smug as ever, lips dragging slow and torturous, his tongue curling in a way that made you tremble uncontrollably.

“I think I like it better this way.”

You don’t know how long he kept you there.

It felt like forever.

Your thighs were shaking violently, your body weak and useless, your mind nothing but static as you finally collapsed against the headboard, trying to catch your breath.

Niki had the fucking audacity to grin up at you, wiping his mouth like he’d just finished a damn meal, looking completely unbothered.

“So,” he mused, tilting his head innocently. “How’d that tying-up thing work out for you?”

You glared, your body still trembling, still trying to recover.

“I fucking hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You wanted to smack him, you really did.

But you had no strength left.

So you just flopped onto the bed dramatically, groaning into the pillow, accepting your fate.

“I give up,” you muttered.

“Oh, baby,” he purred, grinning as he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you like he hadn’t just betrayed you on every level possible.

“You gave up the second you tried to tie me up.”

-

@naurwayyyyy @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @somuchdard @ijustwannareadstuff20 @zzhengyu @annybah @ddolleri @kristynaaah @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway143 @tiny-shiny @simbabyikue @koizekomi @cristy-101 @bloomiize @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586

[hedgehog-moss]

My chickens have not been lucky this winter—the youngest one, Louise Michel, despite her revolutionary name, was eaten by a fox earlier this year. At least this new year was off to an auspicious start for this fox and her family. It made me think about Fantastic Mr Fox and how this book indoctrinates small children into directing their empathy towards the beleaguered fox family, while the hen characters are complete non-people—they are even called stupid at one point, even though they are just sitting in their coop, doing their chicken job!

Anyway. Dru survived the fox attack unscathed and non-traumatised, which made me respect her even more than I already did. Drusilla is quite old by now, and she has survived everything—the fox attack that killed her first coopmate, Cordélia; several air strikes by birds of prey; Pandolf trying to scare her to serve his own dog interests... Even though she has long stopped laying eggs, she is a precious asset to my chicken coop: I am going to get new baby hens in the spring and I need Dru to teach them her strategies to win the Darwinian struggle for existence. As an elderly hen, her job is no longer to provide eggs, but wisdom.

And then I heard Dru cry out one afternoon, as if she had been attacked by something.

I felt confused as I ran out to rescue her—I'd seen her just five minutes before when I went out to distribute hay, she was near the pasture gate hanging out with the llamas, donkey, and dog. There's no way a fox would attack a chicken surrounded by such a security detail. I quickly found her, sitting just outside the pasture, in her normal brooding position, she didn't seem hurt—but Pandolf ran towards her as well, and she didn't move out of his way. That was very unusual. Pandolf runs at things and people like a fluffy corrida bull, happy to knock you over with the force of his love (there's a reason the French equivalent of "like a bull in a china shop" is "like a dog in a bowling game"), and Dru always makes sure to jump out of his way, boosting herself with her wings if necessary.

I wondered if she had a broken wing, but when I started examining her she made a very eloquent "urghh go away" gesture at me with both of her wings, so she could move them. Her legs didn't seem injured either, but she refused to get up. I ended up carrying her back to her coop so she could sit in peace and process her feelings, but she wasn't feeling better the next morning. She clucked at me amicably when I visited her but she didn't go outside all day, so I had to leave food and water outside her room like a bemused parent trying to accommodate an angsty teenager.

Since I hadn't been able to detect any injuries and she was eating normally, I thought she might be depressed. Maybe it had taken her some time to understand that she had lost her friend and was all alone in her coop, and then the realisation had hit her, and her normal chicken activities suddenly felt meaningless. That didn't really explain the sharp cry I'd heard the day before, though.

(I hadn't noticed until I took a closer look at the above photo that there is a dirty stain on the wall of the laying box! Embarrassing. But to my defence, chickens are not very clean creatures and keeping their coop clean is a Sisyphean task. I guess I always focus on cleaning the parts where the hens sit and walk, and hadn't leaned over to look at the inside wall. I've now cleaned it up with a brush—but I almost regret doing so, because a friend gave the stain a beautiful and mystical interpretation:

I waited a couple of days to see if Dru's agoraphobia got better, but on Day 3 of her refusing to leave her coop, I decided to take her to the vet.

The farmer who was sitting next to Dru and me in the waiting room seemed very puzzled about my decision to bring a chicken past her prime and no longer laying eggs to the vet for a diagnosis. At first he assumed that I hoped to have her diagnosed as Safe To Eat.

I told him about how this hen is very good at surviving, and I want her to pass on her knowledge to future generations.

Dru looked cranky at the vet, maybe because there was a poster on the wall that said "What's for dinner tonight?" and she took it personally.

Fun chicken fact: the rounder a hen is, the angrier. She may look like an adorable cream puff, but she is a ball of rage:

The vet noticed that her leg was a bit swollen, and said it could be an infection, or maybe some heavy animal had stepped on her foot. He gave me antibiotics and anti-inflammatories and then I had fun trying to make my cranky chicken take her meds every day. Do you think getting a cat to take a pill is difficult? Try it with an animal who evolved from raptors.

Here are screenshots from a video (which my wifi refused to load)—Dru wasn't having a good time, but trust me, neither was I. It was a daily struggle. On the other hand, I discovered that she loves cherry tomatoes! I had a cherry tomato plant in my greenhouse that was only here to keep the aquaponic system going in the winter, I wasn't eating the fruit as they were bitter February tomatoes, and for some reason it didn't occur to me to offer them to my chicken until I was walking around the greenhouse looking for some insect to reward her for taking her medicine. The daily tomato treat delighted her a lot more than some boring insect :)

Well, we are reaching the end of this adventure—Dru will get new coopmates soon (and hopefully start teaching them her secrets immediately) and the vet visit was very worth it 😊 She still has trouble going down the ladder of her coop so I go get her every morning and carry her near my house, but she is walking and, more importantly, scratching around for food again! Here's a little video:

Oh, no, wait, we aren't done—I must ask everyone to take part in the Trial of Pirlouit.

The vet did say it looked as if some heavy animal had stepped on Dru's foot... Considering the llamas are very delicate walkers, and Pandolf is a reckless brute but isn't heavy enough to break a chicken's leg, this makes Pirlouit the main suspect.

[agateskittles]

This! This is a major major reason I didn't end up following through with my English/creative writing major in college. I remember in my first creative writing class turning in a short story that was about the internal political structure of a vampire monarchy at war with the Fae. And like not to say my writing is great but it was good, I was really proud of it!! I still am! And she gave me a C or a B- on it (I can't remember) and I went to her office hours with the rubric we had been given and I was like hey Professor please explain to me what I did wrong because I've been over the rubric a bunch and I genuinely can't figure out what I did.

And she looked over the rubric and flipped through my story again and was like. Y'know I'll be honest. I really hate fantasy and sci-fi. (Because we read aloud I knew that everyone else in the class had written realistic fiction.)

And then she was like and if that's what you write I will struggle to read it fairly because I just don't like it. But! You shouldn't change your writing style because of that. I will make an effort to grade you fairly and based solely on your mechanics and structure. Please keep being who you are as a writer.

And I did! And by the end of that class she told me she had actually enjoyed some of what I had written and asked me for book recs because when she was in school all that they read and wrote was realistic fiction and any fantasy or sci-fi (excluding specifics like Frankenstein or Lord of The Rings) just wasn't discussed or written.

And I left the department after that and kept writing what I enjoyed and reading what I enjoyed and I am a much much better writer than I was back then. But I think about that conversation a lot because I think most of the older generation of writers and professors have that worldview and it's really sad.

Anyway. Anything you read makes you a better writer! Anything you write even if it's fanfiction or silly short stories or bad poems. All of it is worth it if you enjoy it and all of it will help you grow! Read what you want and fuck the people who try to police that.

my creative writing prof also HATES fantasy. as in if she asks for an example of symbolism in a book, and you give something from a fantasy novel, she’ll ask for an example from a “non-commercial book” instead.

I dunno man, people can have preferences, but the second you discount the artistic merit of sci fi and fantasy I stop taking your opinion seriously. and there’s such a big culture in Canada of only valuing literary fiction, to the point where one of our biggest authors, Margaret Atwood, refused for a while to classify her books as sci fi or fantasy. she said they were “speculative fiction”, which is entirely separate and very highbrow (sarcasm).

and I could go on about how Octavia Butler and Ursula Le Guin wrote books every bit as intellectual (and honestly, even more so) than their literary counterparts, but I am also an enjoyer of schlock!! I think there’s artistic merit in animorphs, and in isekais where a japanese schoolgirl reincarnates into a magical spider who has to level up like it’s a video game! it’s like with everything, you can’t draw a clean line that separates ‘art’ from ‘non-art’ or even ‘lesser art’, and pretending you can do so just makes you look ignorant and goofy. in my opinion.

[illou-sainte]

Jealous? Nah.

pairings: colonel!caleb x nurse!reader

cw: unprotected sex, overstimulation, crying, missionary, jealous!caleb, possession, cosplay, inappropriate use of medical equipment, dom!caleb, rough and nasty sex

You knew damn well how bad Caleb's jealousy was. How and why? It's just that even with a simple glimpse and look into his eyes, you can see the way his pupils dilate whenever you attend to and do check-ups on the workers of the fleet.

It's cute, they say---but it's Caleb. Caleb and jealousy in the same sentence is bad. Really bad.

He knows you're only doing your job as a nurse---but his jealousy is something he couldn't handle. He hates the way those scum colonels and officers look at you with eyes filled with lust and hunger while you're doing your job.

He couldn't shake the thoughts of letting other men touch you and hear your sweet voice, which is exclusively for him. He knows how to handle it sometimes---but there was a certain time when he couldn't.

It was just one regular working day when you tended and did check-ups on the officers' appointments. The officer was surprised to see the Colonel in the same room as them with the nurse. But they didn't dare bring it up---who knows what would've happened if they did?

What hit Caleb's last nerve was when you did a check-up on the officer, placing the chest piece against his chest as you moved it around, trying to find the heartbeat.

"It seems like your beating is unsteady than usual, Sir" You said to him, focused on hearing his heartbeat, while Caleb, on the other hand, was fuming with jealousy. He glared at the officer, who was shamelessly staring at you face-to-face, a smug look on his face. His fists clenched tightly over his lap as he struggled to remain calm at the scene unfolding before him.

As you continued monitoring the heartbeat, you were startled when the officer placed a hand over yours that was holding the piece against his chest and held it.

"Really, Miss? It's probably because of you" He flirted, lips forming a sly smirk---making your eyes widened as you were quick to back away from him. The officer lets out a low chuckle as he shook his head in amusement seeing you jerk your body away.

You sweatdrop and you moved your head where Caleb is sitting at, arm over the desk as he rests his cheek against the palm of his hand---a visible vein on his forehead and....smiling? Oh.

Oh. you're in trouble, big trouble.

Your moans and whines filled the infirmary while Caleb was fucking you balls deep over the hospital bed. His hand reached for his hat and placed it over your head---tilting to the side because of how fast his hips is moving against yours. The buttons of your uniform taken out earlier when he ripped it in one go. Your plushed tits covered with his saliva as it bounces every thrust he gaves your poor aching pussy.

You were in full haziness---intoxicated on how good his fat cock is filling you up to the brim. Tears stream drown your face as he fucks you in missionary---legs wrapped around his waist while he pounds into you relentlessly.

"C-Caleb! Too much--!!!" You cried out, gripping his arms as you try to push him away---but due to his physic you couldn't. He lets out a shaky chuckle and grips your thighs tightly making you squirm in response.

"Hah- w-what...am I not one of your patients that you give your so called special treatment?" He asked, voice low and husky as his eyes focused on your fucked up flustered face. You whined as you shook your head in response. Encouraged by your moans, he increases the force of his thrusts, the headboard of the bed banging against the wall with each thrust.

Oh god, you'd just wished that no one in the fleet was walking in front of the infirmary. Otherwise, you will never know what will happen to your job if someone caught you two. He groans deeply, the thought of getting caught adding to his arousal.

"Tell me..." The Colonel's eyes darken with primal lust, and he begins to fuck you with wild abandon. His hips slamming continuously, driving his cock deep into your throbbing pussy with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, mixed with your moans and his grunts.

"Ngh- cat got...your tongue...huh?" He muttered, smirk forming his lips. And you can only respond with your soft cries while he fucks you good. His pace quickens, his fat cock slamming into your pussy over and over, the wet sounds of your fucking echoing.

"F-fuck, you're so hot..."

Feeling the stickiness of your sweat and his mixed over your hot bodies---Caleb can't help but adore your fucked up face. It's a proof that with a whip of his fat cock inside your pussy can make your mind circuit. A crying and blabbering mess you are, it's cute he says in his mind. He smirked, amused by your overwhelmed expression as he fills your tight pussy completely.

"...shit... can't even stand a single minute of seeing you in a room with other officers.." His hands roam over your curves possessively as he nuzzles between your tits, his hot breath warming your skin. He can feel how tightly you're wrapped around him, his fat cock stretching your tiny hole. You can't even count how many times he made you cum already---the wetness of the covers under you, proves many times.

The scene that happened earlier keeps on playing inside Caleb's mind over and over again. It irritates him. But for you, you can't help but feel so aroused seeing him so rough and possessive he is with you. Making your throbbing pussy tightened around his fat cock inside of you---earning a soft grunt from him.

You watch his hand reached for the stethoscope that is hanging over your neck and grabbed it. His hand gripping your waist tightly while the other one brings the stethoscope to him, putting the ear piece to both of his ears as the stethoscope hangs. He then grabs the chest piece and brings it to your plushed tits---moving it around, using the saliva as a lubricant to make it slippery to move with, making you squirm in response at the coldness of the metal.

He lets out a chuckle as he moved the piece around your tits and keeps on hitting your perked nipples---making you whimper when he rubs circles around it with the piece.

"I'll be your nurse then.." He said, continuing to slam his fat cock inside your puffy pussy while he keeps on moving the piece around your chest---finding your heartbeat and to tease you.

You let out soft grunts because you were sure he's definitely pushing your buttons and abusing his control over you. Once he finally detected your beatings---he lets out a sly smirk and stopped moving the piece. Leaning close to you and pressing his body against your plushed tits as his hot breath hits your skin making you bit your lip.

"Oops, it seems like your beating is unsteady, Miss" He mimicked your words earlier, making your eyes widened.

"It's probably because of me, right?"

A dick for a day keeps the nurse away!

masterlist

[7ndipity]

“No Time Like The Present”

Namjoon x Plus Size Reader

Summary: You and Joon have become close friends, there’s just two problems: He’s in love with you, and you’re completely clueless

Word Count: 4.0k

Warnings: slight angst, swearing, suggestive at the end, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely @bethanysnow for this request! I had so much fun writing this, it really helped me claw my way out of my writer's block. I hope you like it!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“There’s no time like the present.” That's what his friends kept saying every time he would complain about his discontent with his current dating status, or rather lack thereof.

He was fresh out of his mandatory military service, or as he’d not-so-jokingly referred to it, “hell time”, and with that nowfound freedom came a fair bit of self reflection, as most things did with Namjoon.

There were lots of things he had been reasessing in his life, from minor things like workout regimes, to bigger plans like the artistic direction he wanted to take his work in, but amongst all those things, one thing was clear, he wanted to be with someone. 

He hadn’t exactly said it in so many words, but it was clear to those closest to him. 

He’d struggled in the past to figure out what he wanted out of relationships; at first he wanted marriage and kids, at various other points he’d given up dating entirely. He still didn’t fully know what he wanted, but he was done trying to figure it out exactly and was trying to lean into his friend's advice and just embrace whatever opportunities came his way.

Which is why Hobi had abruptly decided one afternoon that they should go have lunch at his favorite cafe. He’d become a regular there following his discharge the year before and had quickly become friends with a few of the staff, including one who he was rather eager for Joon to meet, Y/n.

He’d been charmed by you from day one, with your easy-going attitude, Hobi knew the two of you would hit it off immediately if given the chance. You had a lot of similar interests and personality traits, and also the fact that he knew that you were very much Namjoon’s type, with your full curves and piercing eyes, he knew Joon would instantly be a goner.

Joon followed Hobi into the cafe on the fateful afternoon, not paying much attention at first, mostly admiring the design choices of the space, the light colors and simplistic furniture style giving the space a relaxed, cozy vibe. 

“Next- Hobi!” Your sudden enthusiastic tone of voice drew his attention back to the present, turning to see you and Hobi happily chatting together, freezing slightly as he took you in.

It was for just a couple seconds, but it was still long enough for you to tilt your head quizzically as he realized Hobi was introducing him and was waiting for him to say something.

"Sorry, uh, nice to meet you.” He said, fumbling his words slightly.

You smiled warmly. “You too.” 

You turned back to Hobi as he asked you about something, but Joon didn’t hear any of the conversation, his eyes fixed on you as you spoke and moved about, making orders with an almost hypnotic fluidity and grace.

Hobi elbowed him lightly, snapping him out of his daze. “You good bro?” He asked, handing him his drink with an amused smirk.

“‘M fine…” Joon mumbled, following him to the table, his eyes still flickering back to you now and then.

Something about you had caught him, he couldn't figure out what it was exactly, but it had taken less than five seconds for you to seemingly bewitch him. He barely even registered what Hobi was talking about, or the knowing look he kept casting his way with a smug grin, his attention being repeatedly drawn back to you for the rest of lunch.

Trying to play it off as they got up to leave.

“Bye, Y/n-ah, see you on friday, right?” Hobi called 

“I’ll be there, don’t worry.” You grinned at his reminder.

Joon perked up at that. “Friday?” He mumbled as they ducked out the door into the mid-summer drizzle.

“Yeah, my party? The one I’ve been talking about for weeks?” Hobi raised a brow at him.

“Oh yeah, right!” He nodded quickly.

“...You forgot?” He squinted at Joon.

“No, of course not.” Namjoon denied immediately.

“Mhm sure.” Hobi nodded.

Joon played it off, making a mental note to be there on friday, quietly hoping you were being sincere and would also be there and would get another chance to talk with you without embarrassing himself.

Friday came, and Joon found himself sat in the corner of the party, nodding along as Hobi was  telling a story from tour, only half listening if he was being honest, when his friend suddenly shot up out of his seat.

“Y/n-ah!” He squealed, weaving off through the crowd, returning a moment later half dragging you over to where he and Joon were sitting, instantly looping you into his and Joon’s conversation.

After a few minutes, Hobi quietly excused himself, leaving the two of you to talk amongst yourselves. 

He had expected to feel a little awkward with you, but he was finding it almost shockingly easy to talk to you, eagerly listening as you told him about your life.

You had taken the big scary plunge of moving to Seoul on your own, renting your friend's spare room while you worked at a cafe. It wasn’t exactly a dramatic, elaborate life, but it made you happy, and he found himself drawn into your stories with growing intrigue and amusement. He loved hearing you talk, the way you told stories with your hands, the way your face lit up as you spoke.

The two of you spent the rest of the evening together talking, completely oblivious to the rest of the world around you.

Following that night, he started coming by the cafe whenever he could, without being too obvious that he was only there to see you. The two of you clicked almost instantly, laughing easily during your short conversations. He couldn't help the little jolt in his chest every time he came through the door and spotted you, the feeling only intensifying when he saw how you perked up as you caught sight of him.

"Your usual?" You asked before he even got to the counter.

"Am I getting too predictable?" He asked with a grin.

You chuckled. "Eh, consistency's not necessarily a bad thing."

"Maybe, but still, I'll try something different today. What's your favorite?" He asked

"Ah, well now we have a problem." You say, causing him to raise a brow.

"Why?"

"Because I usually just get the same thing that you do," he couldn't help but grin at that, "or one of our flavored drinks that I know you won't like. "

"How do you know I won't?" He raised a brow.

"Because I always take your order and I know what you like." You smirked.

"Just tell me what it is."

"The mocha mint frappe." His nose scrunched up involuntarily, making you laugh. "See! I knew it!" You said. "You never order anything mint flavored."

He watched you for a moment, a faint smile pulling at his lips before he spoke again. "I'll try it."

What the fuck did I just say? It was hard to say who looked more surprised at his statement, him or you.

You blinked. "Seriously?"

He nodded, shrugging. "You like it, so I'll try it."

You eyed him for a moment, trying to ignore the way your heart did a tiny flip in your chest at his words, before nodding slowly. “Okay then.”

He went to his usual table while you made his drink, his eyes continually drifting back on you as always, only this time you caught him.

“You know if you’re having second thoughts, just say so.” You teased as you brought him his drink, thinking that that was why he was watching you.

He let out a huff of laughter. “I’m good, thanks.”

You turned and went back to the counter, glancing back just in time to see him take the first tentative sip, the nose scrunch from earlier coming back in full force and you couldn't stop the snicker that escaped your lips, drawing his eyes back to you, a fond look spreading across his face.

God, he wanted to make you laugh like that every chance he could.

He turned back to his laptop, working quietly until an americano was suddenly sat down in front of him.

He looked up to see your teasing grin.

“Stick with consistency.” You said simply, turning and going back to work without another word, oblivious to his goo-eyed stare following your every move.

Fuck, he was in over his head…

Things went much of the same way for the next couple months. The two of you hung out almost constantly in your free time, You wouldn’t lie, you had your moments of silently freaking out because ‘holy shit Kim Namjoon is my friend, this is soo fucking cool!’, but you’d reigned that in and as the two of you had gotten closer, it was surprisingly easy to forget that side of him. With you, he wasn’t some ultra famous rapper and artist, he was just your sweet friend, Namjoon.

Meanwhile, Joon had been having a much different experience.

While you were happily riding on the friendship parade, he had been having to fight his demons every day to avoid openly gawking at you because, “holy shit, god and karma are real and this girl is the proof, this is my reward for the past two years that I spent in hell” as he’d so eloquently phrased it to Hobi one drunken evening, who had been watching all of this unfold from the sidelines with the most shit-eating grin, because anybody with eyes could tell that his friend was down bad for you.

Everyone, apparently, except you.

You’re the perfect match for him, smart, funny, cute, loves music, argues with him in ways that make him think, not to mention he thinks you’re the living embodiment of Venus. 

You seemed more than content to just traipse through life, misconstruing his increasingly obvious gestures of affection as those of just a friend.

He would go out of his way to bring you lunch on your break, he would always compliment your outfit or if you changed your hair,  he would look out for you whenever you went out together to make sure nobody messed with you, he’d answer your texts at all hours of the night. The clues were there if you were paying attention, but you very clearly were not.

"Are you okay?” You asked, breaking him out of his revere.

“Huh? Y-yeah, ‘m fine.” He said quickly. “Why?”

“You were kinda zoning out there a bit, didn’t know if something was on your mind…"

It was late, the cafe was technically closed, but Joon had gotten into the habit of staying late while you closed up so he could walk you home.

You’d already shut part of the lights off, leaving you in a cozier, dim light as the two of you finished your drinks.

“No, it’s nothing, just tired I guess.” He mumbled. ‘Just wondering what your lip balm tastes like-’

You weren’t entirely convinced, but you let it slide for now. “So are you going to Hobi’s thing this weekend?” You asked.

“Yeah,” He sighed, leaning back in his chair with a groan. “I bailed on the last one, he’ll have my ass if I miss another.”

“Sweet, then at least I’ll have someone to talk to other than Jimin.” You replied. “Maybe I can play wingman for someone.”

“Oh yeah?” He raised a brow at you. “And who would that be?”

“I dunno, maybe someone incredibly sweet and caring, and handsome, and who despite writing love songs for a living has about as much success in the dating field as I do.” 

He let out a huff. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked in mock offense.

“It means I’m tired of watching you mope around here every night when you could be out with someone who makes you happy.” You said

“You make me happy.” He mumbled.

“That’s not what I mean.” You said. “I mean like romantically.” 

So did I… He sighed. “It’s not that easy.”

“It could be though, I mean look at us.” You gestured between the two of you. “You’re good with me, we just need to find you something like this with someone who’s your type.”

‘You mean like you!?’ He pressed his lips together tightly to keep from blurting out.

“What about you?” He asked, spinning the question around. “Why aren’t you seeing anyone?” 

“Ha! Yeah right!” You scoffed. “You know my dating pool is a puddle.”

He frowned at your words. He hated anytime you thought about yourself in any sort of depreciating light.

“What are you talking about? Don’t say that, you’re gorgeous!” He said, looking at you.

“Yeah, okay…” You said quietly, trying to ignore the warmth that his words caused to rise up in your cheeks.

“I mean it,” He said sincerely. “Anybody would be lucky to have you, and anyone who makes you feel otherwise should go fuck themselves. You’re smart and beautiful and funny and… nice…” He paused, a flush appearing on his cheeks as he realized how he probably sounded.

“‘Nice’?” You quirked a brow at him. “What does ‘nice’ mean?”

He let out a nervous chuckle, averting his eyes as he realized he’d caught himself up in his own words. 

“You know what I mean,” He said, trying to brush it off. “You have a nice figure. You’re… well-proportioned. ”

“‘Well-proportioned’.” You repeated, watching his flustered state with amusement. “Damn, if this is how you flirt, I think we’re starting to understand why you’re still single.”

He rolled his eyes. “Shut up, smart ass.” He said, trying to brush your comment off, but he could feel the warmth in his cheeks.

“No, c’mon, Mr.Songwriter,” I pressed, trying to get a rise out of him. “I’ve read some of the stuff you’ve written in that notebook, you can be a smooth motherfucker when you wanna be, where’s that guy?”

He deliberated, staring at you for a long moment before speaking again. 

“Aright, fine.” He said, giving you a cocky smirk, leaning in close so that you were now trapped between him and the wall.

“Do you even know how much you drive me crazy? Everytime I look at you, I lose my train of thought. There’s just something about you that just draws me in like a moth, I can’t look away. With those gorgeous eyes, those perfect lips...” He leaned in ever closer, his breath ghosting over your face as he murmured. “And those fucking curves that make me wanna fall to my knees everytime I look at you…”

You stared up at him wide eyed, his smooth sultry words causing your brain to cease functioning for a moment before you managed to blink, clearing your throat nervously.

“S-see? That was-, that was good.” You stammered. “If you just do that at the party, I know you’ll win over any girl…”

You turned away abruptly to finish closing up, trying to calm the frantic pounding in your chest, hoping he didn’t notice how flushed and heated your face had become.

Joon dropped his head in frustration. “... yeah, thanks Y/n…”

“You’re hopeless, you’re absolutely goddamn hopeless.” Yoongi exclaimed the next day as Joon sulkingly described what had happened. 

He was sitting with him and Hobi in the genius lab, trying to work on an upcoming song while also trying to understand Joons inability to make you see what was glaring you right in the face.

“Seriously, dude, you should’ve just said something right then last night.” Hobi said.

“The timing wasn’t right.” He argued weakly.

“The timing’s never right!” Yoongi exploded. “I swear to God, I bet you could stand in front of her and just straight up say “I love you”, and she'd call you a good friend…”

Hobi let out a laugh in spite of himself, trailing off as he saw Joon’s pained expression.

“Wait, really?” he asked, causing Joon to bury his face in his hands with a low groan.

“Last week.” He mumbled through his hands.

“Shit…” Hobi shook his head, stunned at just how oblivious you were to Joon’s infatuation. “I’m sorry, man, I had no idea.” He said sympathetically. 

“Neither does she, apparently!” He shot back, still muffled by his hands. “What do I doooo?”

“You’re just gonna have to be blunt.” Yoongi said. “Because she’s either clueless or playing dumb to avoid making things weird by turning you down. But you’re not gonna know either way unless you put it out there, point blank.”

“He’s right…” Hobi nodded. “I know you’re waiting for a better time, but there’s no time like the present, bro…”

Joon sighed, staring down at his shoes, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, maybe…” 

He excused himself quickly, deciding to head home early, cutting through the park as he walked to try and help clear his head, thinking over everything that had happened and what the guys had said.

As he was walking along near the river, he was hit by a few spiteful raindrops, a late summer downpour threatening its arrival overhead, the low rumble of thunder reminding him of how you mentioned once how you liked watching the storms out the window of your apartment.

Everything seemed to remind him of you.

Dammit

He stopped, turning on the spot and taking off in the direction of your building, not paying the rain the least bit of attention. If he didn’t say it now, he didn’t know when he would ever get the nerve again.

By the time he turned up at your friend’s door, he was in the middle of a torrential downpour, soaked to the bone, but he could not care in the least..

“Joon? I- what the fuck are doing, you’re soaked!” You asked in alarm as you opened the front door..

“I’m an idiot.” He blurted out, out of breath.

“Excuse me?” You blinked at him, baffled.

“I’m an idiot, and you’re blind as fuck!”

You stared at him. 

“...Okay, this had better be going somewhere-” You started.

“I’ve been trying to pour my heart out to you and find any way I could think of to make you understand how I feel, but nothing seems to get through your thick skull and I can’t take it anymore!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” You shot back in confusion.

“I. Am. In. Love. With. You!” He spelled out, exasperated. “I’ve been in love with you since the moment I first laid eyes on you. You’re all I think about and I can’t stand not being near you, because you… You’re it, you’re… you’re everything…” He tailed off, 

You stood there shock still, your brain struggling to process his words. Suddenly every weird moment between you, every little gesture over the past few months, it was glaringly obvious, and all you could manage in that moment was a small, dumbstruck "Oh..."

“Yeah...”

The two of you stared at each other, the silence deafening as you both struggled to figure out what to do now.

He wanted to hide, to run away, to scream, just something, but he stayed rooted to the spot, staring at you, praying that he hadn’t just absolutely destroyed everything between the two of you.

You blinked, at a loss for words, before stepping forward slowly, doing the only thing you could think of in that moment, taking his face gently in your hands, holding his gaze for a loaded second, giving him the chance to pull away, before pressing the softest of kisses to his lips.

The faint brush of your lips on his was enough to break him out of his frozen state, his arms immediately wrapping around you, the intensity of his feelings taking over his rationality as he leaned in, chasing your mouth with a near desperate need, crushing your lips together in a nearly frantic kiss, the past months of pining after each suddenly pouring out in a single moment as he held you tight in his arms.

He forced himself to pull back, meeting your eyes with a wild intensity, his restraint holding on by a fucking thread.

"Are… are you sure you want this?" His breath came out in ragged pants as he spoke softly, his gaze dark, desire and love mixing into an expression that sent a shiver down your spine. 

Nodding frantically, you closed the gap again, claiming his mouth eagerly.

He groaned loudly against your lips, his body responding immediately to your touch, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair, holding you close as desire took over his rational mind, pressing you against the nearest wall.

"You don’t know how long I've wanted to kiss you, touch you, hold you like this..." He whispered, his voice almost a growl.

"... then do it..." You whimpered against his mouth, tangling your tongue with his as you pressed even closer, one of your hands slipping into his hair and giving it a sharp tug.

He moaned at the feeling of your hand in his hair, the sound low and primal. He was losing himself in you, completely intoxicated by your touch and taste. his hands roaming your body, exploring every luscious curve and contour as he kissed you with an intensity that was almost feral.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, and his lips moved to the sensitive skin of your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point before sucking and licking at the area, leaving a mark as he mumbled against your skin.

"I want you. I need you. right now." He spoke between kisses, his voice rough and needy.

"Joon…" You panted, brain struggling to form a coherent thought, already so overwhelmed by him, his touch.

He let out a low moan at the sound of his name on your lips, it was like music to his ears. He continued to kiss and suck along your neck, his hands slipping beneath your shirt to touch the soft, warm skin of your waist.

"Say it again..." He whispered, his voice ragged and husky. "Say my name again."

"J-joon… please…" You whimpered out, hands coming down to clutch his arms as his hands explored under my shirt, shivering from the contact.

He felt his heart clench at the sight of you, so gone for him already from just his touch. He felt almost overwhelmed himself, undone by your words, your moans, hell just your presence.

He could feel your body pressed against him, your glorious softness against his hardness, and it was driving him wild.

He growled softly, the last of his control snapping as he crushed his lips to yours, claiming your mouth in a rough kiss, pulling you close and steering you backwards towards the bedroom.

He kicked the door shut with his foot, backpedaling you to the bed, hands working frantically at the buttons of your shirt, trying to get it off you as quickly as possible.

“God, I-, fuck!” As he pushed you back onto the bed, he tried to climb on after you, missing the mattress with his knee and toppling to the floor next to the bed.

“Are you okay?!” You asked, scrambling to sit up, out of breath, staring down at him in concern.

“Yeah..” He groaned, sitting back up onto his knees.

You both stared at each other for a long moment before slowly dissolving into laughter, Joon crawled closer, wrapping his arms around your waist, leaning his head against your chest as he laughed, his face red with embarrassment.

“So much for the moment.” You giggled, stroking his hair gently. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” He chuckled, nuzzling your neck softly, kissing your skin tenderly.

The two of you sat there quietly, just leaning on each other, savoring the simple intimacy of the moment.

“Soo, does this mean that we’re dating, or was this just like a one time thing for the dramatics?” You asked, with a look of genuine curiosity. 

He pulled away, gaping up at you.

“I’m just kidding!” You laughed, hugging him tightly to your chest.

Lord give him the strength…

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0ghol @seleneacyoflove @k4ngelz @universal-travel-er

[paxtito]

‘my beautiful girl’

pairings: jenna x reader (g!p)

wc: 3833

warnings: smut (18+), insecurity, slight praise kink, p in v, kissing, strong language

summary: you and jenna have been dating for a couple years but you’ve never gone further than a makeout session due to insecurity. jenna starts to believe that she’s the problem. (requested by anon which is pasted at the end)

MASTERLIST

Jenna had always been patient with you. Two years together, and she had never once pressured you—never once made you feel like you owed her anything. But lately, something had changed.

You could see it in the way her brows furrowed when she pulled away from a kiss, the way she hesitated before touching you in certain ways, like she was second-guessing herself. You knew she had started to overthink, to wonder if it was something about her. If you just weren’t attracted to her.

And that couldn’t be further from the truth.

But how could you explain that? How could you tell Jenna, the girl who seemed effortlessly perfect in every way, that you weren’t holding back because of her—but because of you?

Because the thought of undressing in front of her made your stomach twist. Because you couldn’t shake the feeling that once she saw you—really saw you—her eyes wouldn’t hold that same adoration. That maybe, just maybe, she’d wish for someone else.

You didn’t even realize how deep in thought you were until Jenna sighed beside you, pulling her knees up to her chest as she sat on your bed. “You can tell me, you know.”

Your breath hitched. “Tell you what?”

Jenna exhaled, her gaze locked onto the sheets like they had the answers. “Why you always pull away.” She paused, voice quieter now. “Why you won’t let me touch you like that.”

Your chest tightened. “Jenna—”

“I mean, I just—” She let out a soft, humorless laugh, shaking her head. “I thought maybe you just weren’t ready. And that’s fine. But then I started thinking… what if you’re never going to be? What if it’s me? What if you just don’t—” She hesitated, biting her lip before finally forcing the words out. “What if you just don’t want me like that?”

Your heart broke at the way her voice wavered.

“Jenna, no,” you said quickly, reaching for her hand. She let you, but her fingers were tense in your grasp. “It’s not that. It’s never been that.”

She finally looked at you, her dark eyes searching. “Then what is it?”

You swallowed, your throat tight. The words were right there, caught between your ribs, begging to be set free.

But saying them meant exposing yourself.

And that? That terrified you more than anything.

Jenna watched you closely, her brows furrowed in concern as she waited for your response. She could see the conflict playing out across your face, the internal struggle that had you trapped between wanting to reassure her and fearing your own vulnerability.

After a long, tense moment, you finally spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just... I'm not comfortable with my body, Jenna. Not like you are."

Jenna's expression softened, and she squeezed your hand gently. "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to be uncomfortable with me. I could never think less of you, no matter what."

You let out a shaky breath, feeling some of the tension leave your shoulders at her words. "I know. I know you couldn't. It's just... hard for me to feel good about myself sometimes. And I don't want to ruin this, ruin us, by being too... exposed."

Jenna reached up to cup your cheek with her free hand, her thumb brushing lightly over your skin. "You could never ruin us, baby. And I don't want you to feel like you have to be someone you're not with me. I love you, all of you, just as you are."

She leaned in closer, her forehead resting against yours as she spoke softly. "I want to make you feel good, want to show you how beautiful and desirable you are to me. But I can only do that if you let me in, if you trust me with the parts of yourself that scare you the most."

Her words hung in the air between you, a gentle challenge and a tender promise all at once. You knew she was right, knew that you couldn't expect her to be okay with the walls you kept up if you weren't willing to let her in.

Slowly, hesitantly, you nodded. "Okay," you whispered, feeling a flicker of determination amidst the fear. "Okay, I'll try. For you, I'll try."

Jenna smiled softly, her eyes shining with love and understanding. "That's all I ask. Just try, baby. That's all any of us can do."

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself with newfound resolve. Jenna's words had resonated deep within you, igniting a spark of bravery in your chest. She was right - you couldn't keep holding back, not when she deserved to have all of you.

With trembling fingers, you reached for the hem of your shirt. Jenna watched intently, her expression a mix of anticipation and gentle encouragement. You could see the love and acceptance in her eyes, the silent affirmation that no matter what, she would be right here beside you.

Slowly, you began to lift your shirt up, inch by inch. Your heart raced as more of your skin was revealed, your breath growing shallow as you fought the urge to hide yourself away again. But Jenna's gaze remained soft and admiring, spurring you on.

Finally, with a deep breath, you pulled your shirt off completely and let it fall to the floor beside the bed. You sat there for a moment, your arms instinctively crossing over your chest as you waited for Jenna's reaction.

She was silent for a long moment, her eyes roaming over your newly exposed skin. Then, slowly, she reached out to take your hands in hers, gently uncrossing your arms and holding them at your sides.

"Breathe," she whispered, as if reminding you that you were still alive, still present in this vulnerable moment. "You're so beautiful, baby. Have I ever told you that?"

You shook your head slightly, unable to find your voice. Jenna smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your collarbone, right above the swell of your breast.

"Well, you are," she murmured against your skin. "Inside and out."

With that, she began to trail her fingers over your chest, a feather-light touch that made you shiver. She mapped out the curves of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips - every inch of newly exposed skin was worshipped with gentle caresses and tender kisses.

You felt your body starting to relax, the tension bleeding out of your muscles as Jenna's touch soothed and aroused you all at once. For the first time in a long time, you felt seen - truly seen, in all your flawed and beautiful glory.

As Jenna's hands and lips continued their reverent exploration of your upper body, you felt a growing warmth beginning to pool low in your belly. Her touch was igniting a fire within you, a desire that you had long kept banked down out of fear and insecurity.

But as her fingers danced along the waistband of your pants, you tensed slightly, a flicker of apprehension cutting through the haze of arousal. Jenna paused, sensing your momentary hesitation.

"Shh, it's okay," she soothed, her voice a low murmur against your skin. "We can take this as slow as you need to. No pressure, remember?"

You nodded, drawing in a shaky breath as you tried to relax back into her touch. Jenna smiled softly, pressing another kiss to your hipbone before slowly, carefully, popping the button on your pants.

She let her fingers slip beneath the fabric, brushing lightly over the skin there. You shuddered, your body already responding to her touch in a way that made anticipation coil hot and heavy in your core.

Jenna's hand drifted lower, palming you through the fabric of your underwear. You could feel yourself starting to harden, your body betraying the depth of your arousal despite your lingering nervousness.

Sensing your growing excitement, Jenna looked up at you, her eyes dark and filled with desire. "You're perfect," she breathed, her hand beginning to move in a slow, teasing rhythm. "Absolutely perfect."

You bit your lip, a soft gasp escaping you as your hips began to cant forward, seeking more of her touch. Jenna took that as her cue to slip her hand fully into your underwear, her fingers wrapping around your hardening length.

"Jenna," you gasped, your voice strained with a mix of pleasure and trepidation. She stroked you slowly, her grip gentle but purposeful, coaxing you to full hardness.

"Shh, just feel," she encouraged, her thumb swiping over the sensitive head, smearing the bead of moisture that had already gathered there.

Jenna slowly withdrew her hand from your pants, leaving you aching and wanting more. She could see the mix of emotions playing out across your face - the arousal, the nerves, the tentative trust in her.

With a soft smile, she leaned in to capture your lips in a slow, deep kiss. It was a kiss full of promise and reassurance, a silent vow that she would take care of you, would cherish you, no matter what.

After a long moment, Jenna pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss. With a coy smile, she reached for the hem of her own shirt, pulling it up and off in one smooth motion. She tossed it aside, leaving her torso bare, save for the simple lace of her bra.

Jenna lay back against the bed, the dark sheets a stunning contrast to her warm, glowing skin. She looked up at you with a playful, inviting smile, crooking a finger for you to join her.

"Come here, baby," she murmured, her voice low and enticing. "I want to feel you, all of you."

Hesitantly at first, you climbed onto the bed, settling yourself between Jenna's parted thighs. She guided your hips with gentle hands, urging you to settle against her core.

You could feel the heat of her even through your pants, the promise of her arousal evident in the way she shifted her hips to press more fully against you. Jenna's hands slid up your back, mapping the lines of your shoulder blades before coming to rest at your shoulders.

"Touch me," she breathed, her voice a needy whisper against your ear. "Please, touch me like I touched you."

Emboldened by her words, you slid a hand down her stomach, feeling the quivering of her muscles beneath your palm. You paused at the waistband of her pants, looking up at her for confirmation.

Jenna nodded, her eyes dark and filled with desperate anticipation. "Yes," she breathed. "Please, baby. I need to feel you."

With a deep breath, you popped the button on her pants, slowly lowering the zipper. Jenna lifted her hips, allowing you to tug her pants and panties down in one go. She kicked them off to the side, leaving her lower half bare before you.

Jenna watched you intently, her chest rising and falling with each anticipation-filled breath. She could see the hunger in your eyes as you took in the sight of her newly exposed skin, the way your gaze lingered on the swell of her breasts, barely contained by her lacy bra.

Feeling emboldened by your obvious desire, Jenna reached behind her back to unhook her bra. She let it fall away, revealing the soft, full curves of her breasts to your eager eyes. Her nipples were already hardened, a dusky pink against the warm brown of her skin.

Your own breathing grew heavier as you drank in the sight of her, your palms itching with the urge to explore every inch of her exposed skin. Slowly, almost reverently, you raised a hand to cup one of Jenna's breasts, marveling at the weight of it in your palm.

Jenna let out a soft moan as your hand cupped and gently squeezed her breast, her nipple hardening further against your palm. She arched into your touch, silently begging for more.

"You feel so good," she breathed, her voice husky with arousal. "I love your hands on me, baby."

Emboldened by her praise, you let your other hand drift down to the waistband of your own pants, slipping inside to wrap around your hard, aching length. You stroked yourself slowly, feeling the way you throbbed in your own grip.

Jenna's eyes widened as she watched you, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Touch me," she pleaded, spreading her thighs a little wider.

Without hesitation, you tugged your pants and underwear down just enough to free your erection. It sprang up, hard and ready, the tip already glistening with arousal. Jenna reached down to spread her lower lips apart, revealing the swollen, needy folds of her pussy.

"Here," she breathed, guiding your hips forward until the head of your cock brushed against her slick, heated flesh. "Rub it against me. Make me feel good, baby."

You groaned at the contact, your hips instinctively starting to move. You rubbed the tip of your erection against her clit, feeling it throb and pulse against the sensitive nub. Jenna cried out, her back arching off the bed as jolts of pleasure shot through her.

Jenna's breath hitched as you began to rub the swollen head of your cock against her most sensitive flesh, her hips rocking instinctively to meet your touch. She could feel the heat and hardness of you, the way you throbbed against her with each pass over her aching clit.

"That feels so good, baby," she gasped out, her fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as she urged you on. "Don't stop. Keep touching me just like that."

You could feel her growing wetter by the second, her arousal coating your tip and dripping down to pool on the sheets below. The scent of her desire filled the air, sweet and heady, making your head spin with lust.

"Fuck, you're turning me on so much," Jenna panted, her eyes squeezing shut as she lost herself in the pleasure of your touch. "I love feeling you against me like this. Love knowing it's you, my beautiful girl, touching me."

Her praise spurred you on, and you doubled your efforts, rubbing faster and more firmly against her slick heat. Jenna's moans grew louder, more desperate, as the pressure built between her thighs.

Jenna's breath came in short, sharp gasps as you rubbed the tip of your erection against her dripping folds, her hips bucking up to meet each pass. She could feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge, her body coiling with tension as the pleasure mounted.

"Please," she whimpered, her nails digging into the meat of your ass as she pulled you harder against her. "Please baby, I need more. I need to feel you inside me."

You hesitated for a moment, a flicker of nerves passing through you. "Are you sure?" you asked, your voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I don't want to hurt you."

Jenna looked up at you, her dark eyes blazing with love and desire. "You could never hurt me," she breathed, reaching up to cup your cheek with a trembling hand. "I trust you, baby. I want this, want you, so much."

She guided your hips with her hands, positioning you at her entrance. "Slowly," she urged, her voice a needy whisper. "Take your time. I want to feel every inch of you as you fill me up."

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you began to push forward. Jenna gasped as the head of your cock breached her entrance, her walls fluttering around you. You paused, letting her adjust to the stretch, before slowly, steadily, pushing in deeper.

You felt Jenna's walls stretching around your length as you slowly pushed deeper inside her, inch by hard inch. She was so tight, so hot and slick and perfect. You had to pause a few times, catching your breath and trying to maintain control as her body slowly accommodated your size.

"Oh god, baby," Jenna gasped out, her back arching slightly off the bed. "You feel so big. So good." She looked up at you, her eyes hazy with pleasure and a deep, abiding love. "Don't stop. Keep going."

Emboldened by her words, you pushed on, sinking in a little deeper with each slow, steady thrust. Jenna's hands slid up your back, her nails raking lightly over your skin as she urged you on.

"Fuck, I’m so.. full," she whimpered, her hips rocking up to meet yours.

You could feel the pressure building in your core, the coil of heat winding tighter and tighter. But more than that, you could feel the love radiating off Jenna in waves, the sheer joy and contentment of being with you, of having you inside her.

With a final, deep thrust, you bottomed out, your hips pressed flush against hers. Jenna let out a shuddering moan as you filled her completely, her walls fluttering and clenching around your throbbing length. She wrapped her legs around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

You began to move, slowly at first, savoring the feeling of Jenna's tight heat enveloping you. She matched your rhythm, rolling her hips to meet yours, drawing you in deeper with each thrust.

"Fuck, baby," Jenna panted, her voice ragged with pleasure.

Her hands roamed over your back, tracing the lines of your muscles as they flexed and tightened with each movement. She pulled you down for a searing kiss, her tongue delving into your mouth to dance with yours.

You lost yourself in the kiss, in the feeling of her body beneath yours, surrounding you, accepting you completely. You could feel the pleasure building with each thrust, each roll of your hips, each breathy praise falling from Jenna's lips.

"Yes, just like that," Jenna encouraged, her voice a needy whisper against your ear.

Jenna's fingers dug into the flesh of your ass as she urged you on, pulling you harder and deeper with each thrust.

She rolled her hips to meet yours, taking you in even deeper. The new angle had you both moaning, the pleasure building with each pass over her most sensitive spots.

"That's it, my pretty girl," Jenna praised, her voice a low, lust-filled murmur. "Don't stop. Keep fucking me just like that."

Jenna could feel your length pulsing and throbbing inside her, growing harder and more insistent with each passing second. She could tell you were getting close, your movements becoming more urgent and desperate.

"Baby," she gasped out, her fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as she held you tight.

She brought your forehead down to rest against her own, wanting to watch your face as you lost yourself in the pleasure. Her dark eyes searched yours, filled with a deep, abiding love and a hunger for your climax.

"Let go, my pretty girl," she whispered, her breath mingling with yours.

Jenna's words, spoken in that low, seductive tone, sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel the pressure building to a crescendo, your body tensing and coiling like a tightly wound spring.

"I'm close," you gasped out, your hips starting to stutter and lose their rhythm. "Jenna, fuck. I'm going to come."

Jenna's eyes flashed with a fierce, loving intensity as she felt you start to lose control. She held your gaze, her forehead still pressed against yours, as she whispered urgently.

"Give it to me, baby. Let me have all of you."

Her words, spoken with such raw, desperate need, were the final push you required.

"Jenna!" you cried out, your voice echoing off the walls as you came undone.

Jenna gasped as she felt your length pulsing and throbbing hard inside her, your hot seed spurting forth to coat her deepest depths. She held you tight, her walls clenching down around you, milking every last drop as you rode out the waves of your pleasure.

"Fuck yes," Jenna moaned, her voice ragged and filled with awe. "I can feel you coming, baby. You're so fucking sexy."

She captured your mouth in a searing, passionate kiss, swallowing your cries of ecstasy as you emptied yourself inside her. You could feel her own peak building, your climax pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

Jenna's moans grew louder, more desperate, as she felt your hot seed filling her up. The sensation of you coming inside her, combined with the raw, primal passion of the moment, sent her hurtling towards her own peak.

"Don't stop, don't stop," she chanted, her voice a needy, breathless litany. "I'm so close, baby.”

She wrapped her legs around you even tighter, locking her ankles at the small of your back. Her hands gripped your shoulders, nails digging into your skin as she pulled you down, burying you inside her as deep as you could go.

Jenna's body began to tremble and shake, her walls starting to flutter and clench around your still-throbbing length. She was right on the cusp, teetering on the brink of a massive, earth-shattering climax.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she whimpered, her hips bucking wildly against yours. "I'm coming, I'm coming!"

With a sharp cry of your name, Jenna came undone. Her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing and shaking as pleasure exploded through every nerve ending. Her walls clamped down around you like a vice, rippling and pulsing as she rode out the intense, mind-numbing ecstasy.

Jenna clung to you tightly as the aftershocks of her intense orgasm washed over her, her body still trembling and quaking with the force of it. She buried her face in the crook of your neck, her breath coming in ragged, shuddering gasps as she slowly came down from her high.

For a long moment, you simply held each other, basking in the afterglow of your shared passion. The room was filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths and the soft, sated sighs of contentment.

Finally, Jenna leaned back slightly to look up at you, her dark eyes glazed but shining with a deep, abiding love and satisfaction. A slow, lazy smile spread across her face as she reached up to cup your cheek with a trembling hand.

"My beautiful girl," she murmured, her voice a low, intimate rasp. "That was... incredible. Better than anything I could have ever imagined."

She took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing, her smile softening into something more tender and affectionate.

"I waited so long for that moment, baby. Two long years of wanting you, of dreaming about having you like this. And it was worth every second of the wait."

Jenna leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, pouring all of her love and gratitude into the gentle caress. When she finally pulled back, she rested her forehead against yours, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored the closeness and intimacy of the moment.

"I love you," she whispered, her voice filled with a fierce, unwavering devotion.

“I love you too.”

—

REQUEST: can you do smut with Jenna Ortega—it’s been two years since her and reader have been dating yet she doesn’t know why reader keeps refusing her when shes trying to go further than a makeout, it was fine until Jenna started to overthink, if she was pretty or attractive in reader’s eyes, but in truth, reader is just insecure about her body (top reader, female or gp but preferably gp!reader)

[gtgbabie0]

{Roomate!Vi giving you what you deserve}

!!-18//MDNI-!! //CW// cheating (reader) slightly pervy vi fingering slight dumbification

Violet hates your girlfriend, no, like really hates your girlfriend. It’s stupid, if she’s being honest with herself. There was no actual sense to her hatred, hell she’s never even met the damn women! It’s just jealousy. An ugly feeling that has managed to root itself deep inside her, making her want to snap and just take you for herself— so well, she did.

You deserved better then whatever she was giving you, which clearly wasn’t a lot from the way you’re constantly whining and bitching, and the fact you’re currently taking three of Violets fingers— stuffed deep inside your wet cunt like you were made for it, practically swallowing them up.

Violet had grown sick and tired of listening to you go on and on about how she’s such a ‘horrible girlfriend’, how she ‘stood you up’ or has been ‘ignoring you’ or whatever other bullshit you complain about it. Honestly it was a daily thing.

But you’ve been extra snappy recently, so goddamn annoying with your little taunts and those lingering gazes— practically begging her to bend you over. All you needed was a good fuck and Violet was more than happy to help you out, kinda.

“What time is she picking you up again?” She says it all too casually as if she isn’t currently knuckle deep inside you— fucking you into her mattress with just her fingers.

Your lips part then close, struggling to find the words— if any at all. Nothing comes out just a jumble of needy moans as you try to close your thighs around her hand, writhing against her bed, hands fisting at her bedsheets.

“Can’t remember, huh? You even know what day it is, pretty girl?— or can you not speak, hmm?” She coos, grinning wolfishly, her soft blue eyes darkening as she curls her fingertips up against that spongy spot that makes you see double— head tipping back against her pillows, hips grinding up against her hand clumsily. “My fingers feel that good doll?”

It was a sight, seeing you all spread out for her— not your girlfriend, her. Violet was half tempted to get it on video, show it to your soon to be ex (she’s sure it isn’t gonna last long after this) how you liked to be fucked. Because hell if Vi hasn’t perfected the art of your body down to the fucking T within the span of five minutes.

“Nuh—yes!— just— ughh!” you give up trying to form a sentence. A low chuckle rumbles out from Vi’s chest as her free hand pushes on your thigh, roughly, spreading you back open with a tut— watching in awe as she stretches your greedy hole open with her digits, disappearing inside your wet heat, slick dribbling between her fingers, soaking her hand.

Oh and she so smug about it, and you would fight back, really!— tell her to shut the hell up or something if your mind wasn’t so mushed up by pleasure— but it was and here you are drooling into the pillows and Vi is drunk off of the picture you’re making.

"Look at you, getting fucked silly just from my fingers. Imagine if I had my strap in you, baby.” She leans down, brushing her nose against your flushed cheek, breath fanning across your jaw. “I'd fucking destroy your pretty pussy." her voice low, rough, a filthy promise, a thought that hasn’t left her mind since that time she ‘accidentally’ walked in on you showering— a thought she’s fucked herself to more then once during sleepless nights.

You think you might just let her— sure it’s really messed up, your girlfriend is literally blowing up your phone right now, buzzing on Violets bedside table— waiting outside your apartment and well… you’re too busy getting fucked dumb by your roommates fingers, hitting you in places you need, filling you up. You hate to admit it but you’ve never been so wet before, her sticky bedsheets a testament to that.

“Vi— Vi, Ahh— uh—uh!” Your hips canter eagerly, trying to keep up with her hand as her thumb rubs circles against your hard clit— marvelling at the way you’re desperately trying to grind your cunt against her hand, chasing after what you needed— your gummy walls clenching around her, squelching obscenely.

“Yeah? Bout to cum already—” then she’s pulling back, slick digits slipping out of your messy cunt as that hot tightness in your tummy dwindles away into a devastating nothing, and you swear you could start sobbing— “Girlfriends’ calling babe.” She nods over to your phone with a twinkle in her blue eyes.

“Wha?— god— I don’t— I don’t fucking care!” It’s a pathetic noise that leaves your lips as your hand darts down to try and grab at hers, guiding it back to your throbbing pussy, “Just— please put em back in Vi, please, please.” You mewl, tears trickling down your cheeks.

And she’s half tempted to— rough fingertips teasing along your sticky folds— if it wasn't for the violent banging at your front door that sounds out through the apartment, ripping through this little moment and you can’t help but whine— frustrated. “Well that’s a shame isn’t it baby? Have fun tonight.” A teasing smirk plastered across her lips. God, you hated her.

You spend the night with uncomfortably wet panties, nothing but Violet on your mind— Violet who spends her own night finger fucking her cunt, the same fingers that were in you. What a damn mess you’ve gotten into.

[solxamber]

oh goodness I hope I'm not too late- the surprise of this event shocked me really bad 😭😭😭

I hope this isn't too hard of a request but,

Deuce, Romantic, "I like me better" by Lauv

Thank you very much and I hope you have a great day!!!

"I like me better when I'm with you" || Deuce Spade

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: I Like Me Better by Lauv

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 820

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Fluff, Pre-Relationship

Deuce had never been in love before.

Sure, he’d had crushes—fleeting, clumsy things that never lasted long. He had admired people from afar, stumbled over his words when talking to someone he found attractive, but nothing like this. Nothing that made his heart pound so hard it drowned out the world, nothing that made him feel like his chest was too small to contain it all.

Because this—you—were something entirely different.

He didn’t know when it started, only that one day he looked at you and felt it. Like a switch had flipped, like the world had rearranged itself to make you the center of it. It wasn’t just admiration or excitement—it was warmth. It was wanting to be better, to be someone worthy of standing beside you.

You made him feel good. Not just about you, but about himself.

Deuce had spent so much of his life struggling with the person he used to be. The anger, the reckless choices, the reputation that clung to him no matter how hard he tried to shed it. He still fought against it every day, still worried about slipping up, about ruining everything he’d worked for.

But with you, it was different.

You never looked at him like he was the sum of his mistakes. You never treated him like he was constantly on the verge of losing control. When he got frustrated, you didn’t flinch or scold—you laughed, nudging his shoulder and telling him to “save it for a real fight.” When he worried about not being good enough, you reminded him of every time he’d been there for his friends, for you.

You saw the best in him. And when he was with you, he started to see it too.

It wasn’t just the grand moments—the late-night conversations where he almost told you, the times he caught himself staring and had to force himself to look away. It was the little things.

The way you cheered for him at flight lessons, loud and unapologetic. The way you called his name before running up to him, always excited, always happy to see him. The way you stayed close in crowded places, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And the way, when he looked at you, the world felt lighter.

He liked himself best when he was with you.

And maybe—just maybe—he would gather enough courage to tell you one day.

Deuce exhales sharply through his nose, gripping his pencil so hard his knuckles turn white. The numbers on the page blur, equations twisting into something incomprehensible the more he stares. His frustration builds like a storm, his chest tight, his jaw clenched. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to get it right.

He wants to be better. For you.

But right now, he just feels stupid.

You must notice the way his shoulders have tensed because you reach out, your fingers slipping over his hand, stopping his restless scribbling. “Hey,” you say, voice warm, steady. “Relax.”

Deuce blinks, caught off guard by your touch. His fingers loosen under yours, and suddenly, the tight feeling in his chest isn’t from frustration anymore—it’s something softer, something that makes his pulse stutter.

“You always overthink it,” you tell him. “Try again, but this time, don’t try so hard.”

He swallows, his grip easing around the pencil. “I just don’t want to mess up,” he mutters. “I—I want to do this right.”

You tilt your head, smiling like you know exactly what’s going on in his head. Like you see him—really see him. “You will,” you say simply. “You always do.”

He doesn’t know what it is about you, but when you say it, he believes it.

And suddenly, everything shifts. The weight of his own expectations feels a little lighter, the words in the textbook a little clearer.

He tries again. And this time—oh. He gets it.

A grin tugs at your lips when you see his face light up. “You got it?”

It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? That a single moment—just you sitting here beside him, your hand still resting lightly over his—could make him feel so much more than he ever has before.

But it’s true.

Because he’s been trying so hard to be something better, to prove himself, to reach higher and be stronger and smarter.

And yet—when he’s with you, he already feels like the best version of himself.

His fingers tighten around yours for just a second before he lets go, trying to pretend he isn’t completely overwhelmed by the feeling.

But later, when you lean your head on his shoulder, still laughing about something dumb, Deuce realizes—he doesn’t want this to be just a moment.

He wants this forever.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[scoupsakakitty]

Cover Up | idol!S.coups x idol!Reader | angst, fluff

The golden glow of the evening sunlight streamed through the bedroom windows as Y/N sifted through the rack of clothes her stylist had sent over. The award show was just two days away, and every outfit seemed louder and bolder than the last.

Seungcheol sat on the edge of their bed, phone in hand, pretending to scroll through his messages. But his eyes kept flickering up to her. She was humming softly to herself, holding up a sleek black dress to her frame before shaking her head and moving on to the next one.

She was beautiful, no matter what she wore—but that wasn’t the problem tonight.

“Cheol,” she called over her shoulder, “are you even paying attention?”

He looked up quickly, straightening as she turned to him with a grin. “Yeah, of course.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Liar. Don’t worry, I’ll make you pay attention soon enough.”

With that, she disappeared into the closet to change. Seungcheol’s stomach twisted slightly. He knew she was going to look stunning—she always did. But he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had been building all evening.

When she stepped out a few minutes later, his breath caught in his throat.

The dress was short, its black fabric shimmering faintly in the light. Cutouts along the sides and back revealed smooth skin, and the neckline dipped just low enough to make his heart race. Her long legs were framed perfectly by the sharp heels she wore, and she stood confidently in front of the mirror, adjusting the straps as though she hadn’t just completely robbed him of his ability to think.

“What do you think?” she asked, spinning to face him.

Seungcheol swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he struggled to find the right words.

“You’re… you look good,” he said finally, though the tension in his voice betrayed him.

Her eyebrows knit together. “Just good? It’s for the red carpet, Cheol. My stylist said it’s perfect for the theme. Bold, modern…” She gestured vaguely at the dress. “Eye-catching.”

“It’s definitely eye-catching,” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

He stood, running a hand through his hair as he crossed the room. “Y/N, don’t you think it’s a little… much?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Much? What do you mean?”

“It’s short,” he said bluntly, gesturing toward the hem of the dress. “And tight. And the cutouts…” His gaze drifted to her sides, where the fabric revealed smooth lines of skin.

“That’s the point,” she said, crossing her arms. “It’s supposed to be bold.”

“But do you really need to show this much to be bold?” he shot back, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

Her jaw tightened. “Seungcheol, this is my job. I’m an idol. People expect me to dress like this at events.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, pacing a few steps before turning back to her. “I know it’s your job, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. You’re my girlfriend, Y/N. I don’t want everyone else looking at you like that.”

Her mouth fell open, and she stared at him in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

“Yes, I’m serious,” he said, his voice firm. “I don’t like it when other people stare at you, okay? You dress neatly most of the time, and I love that about you. But this—” He gestured at the dress again, his voice rising slightly. “This feels… wrong.”

“You think my dress is inappropriate?” she asked, her tone sharp.

“For me, yeah,” he admitted. “It’s not just about how it looks—it’s about what it makes me feel. I don’t want other people seeing you like this. I want you to cover up.”

Y/N blinked, her lips parting in shock. “Cover up? Cheol, do you even hear yourself right now?”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, his words tumbling out before he could stop them, “maybe something that covers your knees. Or something with buttons up to your neck—”

“Buttons up to my neck?” she repeated, incredulous. “Are you kidding me?”

“Why not?” he shot back, his frustration mounting. “I want you to look like you’re mine, not like you’re on display for everyone else.”

“That’s not how this works, Seungcheol,” she said firmly. “I’m not yours to control. I love you, but you don’t get to dictate what I wear or how I present myself.”

He fell silent, the weight of her words hitting him like a punch to the chest.

“It’s not about control,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “I just… I hate the thought of other people staring at you, thinking they have the right to look at you like that. It’s not fair to you, and it drives me crazy.”

Her expression softened slightly, but her stance remained firm. “Cheol, I get that you’re protective. I do. But you have to trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

“I trust you,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “It’s everyone else I don’t trust.”

“That’s not something you can control,” she said gently. “I’m an idol. People are always going to look, no matter what I wear. But none of it matters, because at the end of the day, you’re the one I come home to.”

He stared at her, his jaw tightening as he struggled to find the words.

“I have so many plans,” he murmured finally, his voice almost a whisper. “So many things I want to say and do to show you how much I care. But when it comes to moments like this, I just… I can’t say anything right.”

Her expression softened further, and she reached out, taking his hands in hers. “You don’t have to say the right thing, Cheol. You just have to trust that I love you and that nothing—no dress, no event, no cameras—will change that.”

He let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I don’t mean to be like this. It’s just… hard for me sometimes.”

“I know,” she said, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around him. “But we’ll work on it, okay? Together.”

He nodded, resting his chin on her head as he pulled her into a hug. “Okay. But for the record, I still think you’d look amazing in something that covers your knees.”

She laughed, the sound light and melodic. “Noted, Grandpa. Now, do you want to help me pick out accessories, or are you going to keep pouting?”

He chuckled softly, finally letting go of his frustration. “Fine. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

As she stepped back to grab her jewelry, Seungcheol watched her with a small smile. He didn’t like the dress, but he loved her—and that was enough to quiet the storm inside him.

[littelovelunette]

Hiiii! im not sure if youve made something like this but could you write like sevika x reader having rough possessive sex in front of someone? like a stalker-ex of reader or some guy thats been eyeing reader too much during one of sevikas gambling games. I really love your writing btw!! and sorry if it doesn’t make sense

Duality & Gunpowder

Thank youuu

Contains smut, dark!Sevika, exhibitionism, restraints, Sevika having duality, praise kink

murder, gun, stalking mentioned, threats

Dark!Sevika x Fem!Reader

Sevika had you bent over the table, wrists tied together as she squeezed your ass, "We have a viewer today, darling," she said, her voice low and soft.

You were clothed, and so was Sevika, yet she had on the strap harness. You had no panties on underneath her skirt through, so Sevika could access you easily.

You nodded, slowly looking up to see your ex tied to a chair, with his mouth duct taped shut. He struggled against the ropes but it was useless.

Sevika chuckled, shaking her head, "Eyes over here, pretty boy," she taunted, her gun pointed towards his head as her strap's head teased your wet cunt from under your skirt.

"Wasn't the best idea stalking your ex, now, was it?" Sevika laughed, a low rumbled from her chest before she pistoned her hips forwards and the toy disappeared in your pussy with a squelching sound that made you blush.

"O-oh, Sev..."

"It's okay, angel, shush, I've got you," Sevika whispered in your ear, her other hand gently rubbing your back, thumb tracing patterns on your clothed behind while her hips continued their motions.

Her pace wasn't too fast or too slow, deep and calculated was the phrase for it. Sevika's eyes were fixed on your struggling ex-boyfriend who mumbled something incomprehensible in the gag but none of the both of you cared enough to really listen.

Sevika slammed the strap inside suddenly causing you to let out a small squeak of surprise and tighten around the silicone. Sevika was never rough with you, she adored you. You were her light, her angel, her little flower, her everything.

Every good thing she had in life had to be correlated to you. Or it simply wasn't good enough.

The tough life in Zaun hardened Sevika enough to know she needed to cherish someone like you in her life because it wasn't easy to come by love so pure. She needed to protect you even if that meant putting a bullet through your ex's skull.

"You're so tense, my love," Sevika gave your lower back a firm rub, "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, please, keep going," you said, eyes closing and head tilting back.

Small moans and gasps left your lips as your back arched feeling the big strap shoving all the way inside and then back out. The thrusts were deeper than before, your hands quickly scrambling to grab the edges of the table so you could anchor yourself properly, you were almost melting in her arms.

"Eyes here, boy," Sevika barked at your ex who was trying to look away, unable to bear the sight in front of him, "You either look this way or I make you look this way."

You let out a loud moan as if punctuating her words, and showcasing just how much Sevika was capable of doing. Sevika smirked, voice softening once she spoke to you like it always did.

"Yeah? Enjoying, my angel?"

Sevika took a deep breath before fastening her pace, causing the table to rattle on its legs. You doubted it could hold the both of you up for too long, so you tried to push back only resulting the toy to sink further inside you.

"Your cunt is so pretty," Sevika whispered in your ear as she continued thrusting, her gun hand still fixed at its form, pointing towards your ex.

"S-Sevika, I'm close," you whimpered and Sevika smirked, starting to thrust harder than before making your moans louder.

You whined and gripped onto the table for support, crying out as you felt her ram into you from behind. You were on the verge of tears due to the overwhelming pleasure but Sevika's thrusts knew no end. Your mouth was open, gasps issuing and moans escaping.

With one final thrust, you came and Sevika held herself inside for a bit. The loud gunshot went off, your eyes widening in shock as you whipped your head around to take a look. Sevika's expression was as hardened as ever, gazing at your ex-boyfriend's now dead body in the chair.

He was slumped in the chair, eyes wide and empty, drool running down the gag as if he'd been trying to silently plead for his life through the gag but of course, none of the both of you really cared to listen.

You looked at Sevika, feeling uneasy about the corpse in the room, "Sevika..." Your voice was a faint mewl.

Sevika nodded, "I know, baby, I know."

The strap pulled out of your pussy with a wet pop making you whine at the sudden emptiness of your hole. Sevika didn't waste any time and picked you up bridal style. She walked up the stairs of the basement, face still as unfeeling as ever when it came to the ruthless murder of your ex.

But for you? Sevika was all soft and sweet for you. Her top priority now was to run you a bubble bath and tuck you in bed before she went to dispose of your ex.

[snowball-doie]

18+ MDNI. NSFW Twitter Link.

Overstimulating Jisung

Poor Jisung was always just so sensitive, it really was unfortunate. For him. For you, it meant having some fun with him, at his expense, teasing him because even the slightest of touches could get him hard, using all kinds of techniques to get him off because anything would work on him, and, of course, last but not least, overstimulating him. Those cute whines of his are the most adorable thing on Earth. The way he struggles against you, pleads for you to leave him alone because he's too sensitive, and he sniffles because he's on the verge of tears. Truly unfortunate for him. But the funny part is that he never seems to see it coming, no matter how many times you've gotten away with doing it to him. He always figures that you're going to take it easy on him because he's been such a good boy for you-- and while that's absolutely true, it doesn't change the fact that overstimulating him is the most fun you have with him. "Wait-- Wait-- I'm too sensitive!" he cried out, his hands grabbing your hips for a split second before he tried to shoo your hands away from his cock, only to remember that would make him a bad boy and would only earn him a punishment, so he frantically returned his grasp to your hips, all while his entire body is struggling under yours in the hopes that he can maybe buck you off. "You can do it, baby, just take deep breaths for me." Jisung can't think straight, yet you want him to breathe deeply? He whines, "I-I- I can't--" "Just a little longer, Ji." You try to hold his thighs still, but he's just too squirmy, so you focus on staying upright on his waist while still jerking him off as the last bit of cum seeps out of him and drenches your fist. "There you go," you coo happily. "That's my good boy." Jisung whimpers when you finally come to a stop, "Th-thank you..." After all that struggling, he can't move a single muscle, and his eyes are a bit crossed... He looks good all dumbed-out after being overstimulated.

[glittering-darmallon]

My Rooks Part 1.: Valrys Ingellvar and Canelo de Riva

Questionnaires behind the break

Valrys Ingellvar

1: Where in the Thedas is your Rook from? Nevarra City. However, they were likely born somewhere in the Deep Roads from Orzammar to Nevarra, but they have no way of knowing.

2: What is your character's alignment? Neutral Good

3: Race and class? Dwarf Warrior

4: If your Rook was a companion, where would they be found? Does this mean where in the Lighthouse? They'd have picked up and relocated that mirror of transformation first off. They'd also likely set up shop on the second floor of the laboratory. It looked like there was enough space up there for a dwarf sized bed.

5: What emotion did they usually pick? Affable.

6: What companion are they platonically close with? Their best friends in the Veilguard were Emmrich and Taash

7: Romantically close with? Lace Harding (somewhere in the background proud cries of "That's my wife!" can be heard)

8: Who are they suspicious of? In the Veilguard? None of them. They consider them all like family. They are the kind of person to give benefit of the doubt at first. But once you lose their trust, it is gone forever. They were and are still a little suspicious of Morrigan

9: Does your Rook get along with their chosen Faction? Yes, very much. They love each and every Mourn Watch member, especially their chosen parental figure VORGOTH and loves Myrna like a little sister

10: Are they proficient in playing any instruments? Nope. Not only that, they can't carry a tune to save their life

11: Weapon of choice? A maul. They really liked the one named Lawrence.

12: What is their orientation? I don't know if I have the right word for it. They're genderfluid but only interested in women (they love women so much). So I'm choosing to use sapphic.

13: What are their thoughts on killing? Is it a necessary evil or do they enjoy it? They like fighting but not necessarily killing. However, they understand they live in a dangerous world and it's necessary sometimes. They will try to come to a non-violent solution whenever possible.

14: What hobbies does your Rook have? They like fashion and history. And the lack of finding the clothes they want that fit them right (this is me being mad that even the robes in the game had pants) had them teaching themself how to sew and make clothes. It's my headcannon that in the future when they and Lace get married, they're making their own gown.

15: What NPCs do they like? Which one's do they dislike? I've already mentioned Myrna and VORGOTH but they also like Viper and Antoine and Evka. It's not that they have anything against the other faction leaders, they just wouldn't want to hang out with them much. They really liked talking weather with Karash.

They did NOT like Shathan. Yes, they understand she was struggling to understand Taash's identity struggles and did the best she could, coming around in the end. But they did not appreciate her telling them that "Taash was rarely interested in men" while looking right at them (and this is when they were dressed in the most femme outfit I had access to at the time, and a full face of makeup. They were serving looks) and never apologized for that. That whole conversation made them want to break things.

And they really hated Mythal (only time I've fought her so far).

16: Do they have a favorite creature in the Thedas? They love nuggalopes. It is a life dream to own one for a mount and or pet

17: Do they enjoy life as an adventurer? Yes. They love to learn. My plan for Valrys and Lace post-game is to go on journeys to find and compile Dwarven history into a compendium

18: What would your Rook be doing if they weren't recruited by Varric? Killing every Venatori that dared entering the Necropolis and helping VORGOTH with the hauntings they discover

19: How do you think they'll meet their end? By trying to reason with the wrong person instead of just fighting them

20: Would they side with Solas or fight him? They reluctantly sided with him. But they weren't happy about it.

21: What is your Rook's favorite ability? Deadly ground and Reaper. That Spirit Storm ultimate was amazing

22: What languages is your character fluent in? Other than Trade? Nevarran and somewhat fluent in Orzammar Dwarven but that's self-taught and hard to practice back home (they found a book)

23: What do they do after an absolute crisis? Smash so many things.

24: Does your character believe in the afterlife? Yes. They grew up around spirits. They know there is more.

25: What specialization best represents your Rook? Reaper no question...However, if berserker had been an option....

26: What animal best represents your Rook? An elephant: Strong, smart, protective of their own, great memory and generally pleasant unless you wrong them them they're gonna remember forever and make sure future generations know about it.

27: What was their life like before the events of Veilguard? As much as they liked it and working with the watchers, the Necropolis was starting to feel claustrophobic

28: Is your character the de facto leader of the party? Or do they consider someone else to be the leader? Yes. They were trusted with the job and they take it seriously. They have enjoyed bringing everyone together and helping people

29: If you could choose a different faction for your Rook, which one would they have joined and why? They'd probably enjoy being a Veil Jumper even though they're not magical. The history they'd get to learn about would fascinate them. They would absolutely refuse to wear those outfits. "No. They do nothing for my figure. I look like a lump of mud. Absolutely not"

30: What's your favorite thing about your Rook?

Aside from the fact they're just so good looking? I love how they just let themself feel whatever emotion it is they're feeling. They repress nothing. They're highly emotionally intelligent.

---------------- Canelo de Riva

Where in the Thedas is your Rook from? Born in Seleny, moved to Treviso at approx.16

2. What is your character's alignment? Hard to say. Likely a true neutral of the "heroic neutral" variety.

3. Race and class? Elf rogue, veil ranger

4. If your Rook was a companion, where would they be found? In the Wolf's Den

5. What emotion did they usually pick? Stoic

6. What companion are you platonically close with? He was bff's with Davrin and Harding (yeah I know. Why did I choose to hurt him like that?)

7. Romantically close with? Lucanis

8. Who are they suspicious of? He didn't trust Solas, Illario, and Invenci right from the get go

9. Does your Rook get along with their chosen Faction? For the most part. He is close with Viago and the real reason he was sent away from Treviso was for his safety. Canelo suffered a psychotic break thinking he'd found Antaam member responsible for killing his siblings and just went ham on them. Wasn't even aware of what he'd done until Viago told him. He likes Teia a lot as well. They do each other's hair.

10. Are they proficient in playing any instruments? Nope.

11. Weapon of choice? Longbow specifically the dauntless greatbow he named Jugular (his preferred place to shoot a target)

 12. What is their orientation? Bisexual greyromantic

13. What are their thoughts on killing? Is it a necessary evil or do they enjoy it? A job is a job, and being an assassin pays better than being a prostitute did.

14. What hobbies does your Rook have? He enjoys making his own arrows, including the knapping of arrowheads when he can find appropriate stone. He likes dancing and making beads for hair or jewelry too

15. What NPCs do they like? Which one's do they dislike? As stated above, Viago is very important to him, like an older brother, Teia too. But he likes Tarquin quite a lot, and they both grew up in a lower socioeconomic class. He is to no surprise no big fan of Illario. "I don't care if he's like your brother, mio cuore. He tried to kill you, had you imprisoned in a place where they tortured you. I am never going to like him." He is also no fan of the First Warden

16. Do they have a favorite creature in the Thedas? Dracolisks. He thinks they're awesome. "Lucanis, if you were ever thinking about getting me an extravagant gift...get one of these."

17. Do they enjoy life as an adventurer? He is the kind of guy who would have been happy earning an honest living as a hunter and continuing to raise his little brother and sister and being left alone, but life had other ideas. Adventuring really isn't for him.

18. What would your Rook be doing if they weren't recruited by Varric? He'd love to say still working for the Crows, but he is fairly sure Viago would have made him find other work outside Treviso. It was clearly not doing his mental health any favors, and the city was slowly killing him

19. How do you think they'll meet their end? Likely the way most Crows seem to. In a power grab

 20. Would they side with Solas or fight him? Oh he fought him. Every tragedy in Canelo's life could be traced back to Solas giving Corypheus that orb.

The orb explodes and opens the breach

Demons pour out of fade rifts

His parents are killed by demons on their way to Treviso to collect a shipment of spices to sell at their store.

Canelo is too young and doesn't have the brain for running the store, and it goes under. He and his two year old twin siblings lose the house and end up living in a hunter shack in the Tellari Swamps near Seleny. They do okay for about 2 years

Zenzera gets sick, and Canelo has to sell everything but the clothes on their backs and steal the rest of the gold to get them to a special healer in Treviso.

He cannot find a safe job that will let him bring a pair of four year olds along with.

Ends up becoming a sex worker to feed them, but never makes enough to get them off the street

A noble who had been tossed from the brothels for being too violent with the workers their decides to just quit paying for it and assaults Canelo.

This noble that Canelo kills in self-defense was Viago's contract. This results in Canelo joining the Crows.

The three of them are doing okay for a while.

Then the Antaam, who broke away from the Qun after the events of Tresspasser (Thanks again, Solas) invade Treviso.

Antam raid the market where Zenzera and Zafferano are shopping with some fledglings and are killed.

Canelo falls into a spiral of depression, PTSD, and heavy drinking until the above mentioned psychotic break happens and he snaps, killing those two dozen Antaam and wrecking the big plan that had been in the works.

ERGO- SOLAS AND HIS PERPETUAL FAILURES RUINED CANELO'S LIFE. THEREFORE, THERE WAS NO PEACEFUL RESOLUTION TO SOLAS' STORY.

 21. What is your Rook's favorite ability? Hurricane of Blades and Storm's Path

22.  What languages is your character fluent in? Trade obviously, but Antivan and Rivaini with conversational knowledge of Qunlat and Tevene. He's fairly good at picking up languages. Davrin and Bellara teach him Elvhen when they can.

23. What do they do after an absolute crisis? Go hide on the island with the laser that is floating above the Lighthouse Courtyard and have a good breakdown where no one can see it.

24.  Does your character believe in the afterlife? He wants to, but he's afraid that if it's real, he'll go somewhere other than where his family is. Or if he finds them, they will hate him for the choices he made in life

25. What specialization best represents your Rook? He took Veil Ranger, because it was bow focused, and that suits him just fine

26. What animal best represents your Rook? Jaguar- Quiet until they're not, death from above, solitary, master of tactical retreat (Canelo's tactical retreats come when his emotions are too big for him and he needs a safe place to hide and process them)

 27. What was their life like before the events of Veilguard? See the answer to number 20. It wasn't all bad. The first few years with the Crows were great. For the first time in over 5 years they all had enough to eat. When Canelo became a full Crow, he quickly earned a name for himself for being quick and efficient from far away, his contracts never even knowing he was there. Once the Antaam invaded though, it all fell apart

28. Is your character the de facto leader of the party? Or do they consider someone else to be the leader? Yes, but he'd really rather not be the leader. Someone has to do it though

29. If you could choose a different faction for your Rook, which one would they have joined and why? He'd make a good Shadow Dragon.

30. What's your favorite thing about your Rook? He's resilient. He's been served a tragedy buffet and yet, still going. Plus, underneath the stony and or sad exterior he's a lovable person who will lavish his loved ones with affection. Even ones who would REALLY rather he didn't (Viago).

Rook Questionnaire

inspired by @cassieuncaged's BG3 Character Development Questions but for Rook instead!

1: Where in the Thedas is your Rook from?

2: What is your character's alignment?

3: Race and subclass?

4: If your Rook was a companion, where would they be found?

5: What emotion did they usually pick?

6: What companion are you platonically close with?

7: Romantically close with?

8: Who are they suspicious of?

9: Does your Rook get along with their chosen Faction?

10: Are they proficient in playing any instruments?

11: Weapon of choice?

12: What is their orientation?

13: What are their thoughts on killing? Is it a necessary evil or do they enjoy it?

14: What hobbies does your Rook have?

15: What NPCs do they like? Which one's do they dislike?

16: Do they have a favorite creature in the Thedas?

17: Do they enjoy life as an adventurer?

18: What would your Rook be doing if they weren't recruited by Varric?

19: How do you think they'll meet their end?

20: Would they side with Solas or fight him?

21: What is your Rook's favorite ability?

22: What languages is your character fluent in?

23: What do they do after an absolute crisis?

24: Does your character believe in the afterlife?

25: What specialization best represents your Rook?

26: What animal best represents your Rook?

27: What was their life like before the events of Veilguard?

28: Is your character the de facto leader of the party? Or do they consider someone else to be the leader?

29: If you could choose a different faction for your Rook, which one would they have joined and why?

30: What's your favorite thing about your Rook?

[slutoru1207]

Catch me if you can Part 5

Reader x Variant!Invincible

Pain.

It was the first thing you felt when you woke up.

A slow, dull ache creeping through your body, settling deep into your bones. Your head throbbed, sharp and insistent, like someone had taken a hammer to your skull.

And then—

The restraints.

Cold metal bit into your wrists and ankles, pinning you in place, unyielding.

You sucked in a breath.

Where—

Where were you?

Your vision swam, blurry edges slowly sharpening as you forced your eyes open.

White walls. Harsh lights. The faint hum of machinery.

A lab.

You knew exactly what that meant.

Panic slammed into your chest.

You struggled, jerking at the restraints, trying to move, to do something, but they held firm.

No, no, no—

You reached for your powers, for the part of your mind that could twist the world around you—

And felt nothing.

Your breath hitched.

They had blocked you.

Sedatives? Neural dampeners? You didn’t know.

But the absence of your powers felt like someone had ripped a limb from your body.

You clenched your teeth, trying to breathe through the rising terror.

Think. Think.

There had to be a way out.

There was always a way out.

But before you could test anything—

The door slid open.

And he walked in.

Mark.

Dressed in his Viltrumite uniform, red and white stark against his tan skin.

No helmet. No armor.

No hesitation.

Just golden eyes locked onto yours, unreadable.

Your stomach twisted.

He looked calm.

Like he wasn’t even surprised to see you like this.

Like he knew you’d wake up restrained.

Because he’d let it happen.

The betrayal burned.

Your throat was dry when you spoke.

“You really did it.” Your voice cracked. “You handed me over.”

Mark didn’t flinch.

Didn’t deny it.

Just stepped closer, gaze unreadable.

His silence was worse than a thousand words.

You laughed.

The sound was hollow.

“Wow.” You let your head fall back against the table, staring up at the ceiling. “I mean, I knew you had changed, but I didn’t think you’d actually—” Your throat closed up. “I didn’t think you’d give me up.”

Something flickered in his expression.

Something brief.

Gone before you could grasp it.

“I warned you.” His voice was quiet. Steady. “You kept running. Kept fighting.”

Your hands curled into fists.

“So you think I deserve this?”

Mark didn’t answer.

Because he couldn’t.

Because even he knew this was wrong.

You let out a bitter laugh.

“You know, I almost felt bad for messing with your head all those times.” You tilted your chin, eyes narrowing. “But now? Now I wish I had done worse.”

His jaw tensed.

A crack in the mask.

Good.

You wanted to hurt him.

You wanted him to feel the same crushing, suffocating pain that was strangling you right now.

“You really think they’ll let you keep me?” You bared your teeth in something that wasn’t a smile. “You really think your father will let you keep your little pet?”

Mark’s eyes darkened.

And there it was.

The truth.

You weren’t a prisoner.

Not to him.

To Nolan. To the Empire.

Mark was just their weapon. Their soldier.

And you were just another war prize.

Your stomach turned.

You had fought so hard.

So hard.

And now—

Now you were trapped.

Mark finally spoke.

“They’re not going to kill you.”

His voice was quiet.

Like that was supposed to be some kind of mercy.

Like it was supposed to make this better.

Your fingers twitched against the restraints.

“No.” You swallowed hard. “They’re just going to break me.”

Mark didn’t say anything.

Didn’t deny it.

And that silence?

It told you everything.

Your heart pounded.

You wanted to scream, to fight, to burn this place down—

But you couldn’t.

Not like this.

Not with your powers locked away and Mark standing over you like an immovable wall.

For the first time in your life—

You had nowhere to run.

No plan.

No escape.

Just Mark.

And the ghosts of what you used to be.

Your voice dropped to a whisper.

“You’re a coward.”

Mark finally—finally—flinched.

Good.

You lifted your chin, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, even as your vision blurred with unshed tears.

“I hope you feel this, Mark.” Your voice trembled, but you pushed through. “I hope it haunts you.”

His jaw clenched.

And for a second—just a second—you thought he might say something.

Might break.

But then he just—

Turned.

Left you there.

Alone.

Trapped.

And when the door clicked shut behind him—

You finally let yourself cry.

part 6?

[just1cefor4ll]

—a true chef

Joost Klein x pregnant!reader

warnings. none! pure fluff :D

You’ve been moody and unapproachable for the past few hours, crying and having a ‘tantrum’ every few hours because you’ve been having a craving you couldn’t really describe.

It was like the craving was there and when you were going to go put and buy the necessities— shoes on after a painful struggle of bending over your bloated stomach which has been growing your beautiful daughter for the past 6 months— it was like your mind went blank and suddenly you had absolutely no idea what you were even thinking about.

It is truly one big struggle having a hangry pregnant woman in your household but Joost was there to your rescue.

He had been trying desperately to come up with something, to help you and offer to order something but it was like every single food was suddenly your least favourite and you were allergic to the type of plastic they’d bring in— but he didn’t give up. He brought up your past cravings or some he saw on tik tok from other men sharing their wives cravings but no no no it was all wrong! He rushed around the house, trying his best to comfort your crying state but you just wouldn’t budge.

You lied in his arms, your head pressed against his shoulder as your tears were finally dried after a 15 minute crying session and a terrible experience for Joost who had pillows and soft punches thrown his way— but he still held you close and kissed the side of your head and whispered how much he loved you and his soon to be born daughter— or son! You never know..

“You feeling better liefie?” He asked, gentleness laced in his voice. You just shrugged, crossing your arms and giving him the silent treatment for no apparent reason. He sighed, rubbing circles on your arm before turning on your favourite show to maybe ease your nerves.

And then— it all clicked.

You jumped from his arms, excitement he has seen ten times before evident in your arms. “Oh my god I remember!” You went to stand up but Joost pulled you back down, holding your hand gently. “How about you tell me whatever it is you’re craving before you end up forgetting, hm?” He smiled softly, noticing your excitement soften just a bit. You nodded and thought for a bit, looking at the floor before you spoke again. “Okay hear me out— plain pasta, ice crime on top with some stroopwafels crushed on top.” You smile proudly while Joost looked amused but slightly disgusted. “Okay I’m pretty sure we have all of that at home. Anything else, moppie?” You hum, before a mischievous smile crept onto your face. “Some chips and jam could be good.” He sighed, getting up and kissing your forehead before heading to the kitchen, putting himself to work.

An hour later he came back and it smelt pretty well to his surprise. He smiled at your excited face, putting the plate in your hands and sat down next to you— a curious look on his face. “Cmon give it a try.” He urged, smiling softly as you picked up the fork, digging into the food that has caused you— and Joost hours of ‘pain’. You hummed, tasting the sweet food on your tongue and you immediately fell in love. “Oh my— Joost, love, you need to try this!” You exclaim, handing him the plate for him to try.

Joost chuckled, taking the fork from you. “Alright, alright,” he said, taking a bite. His eyes widened, and he let out an impressed whistle. “Okay, I take back every complaint I had. This is actually good.”

You grinned, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied sigh. “Worth the struggle?”

“Debatable,” Joost teased, nudging your shoulder. Then his gaze softened as he looked at you. “But seeing you happy makes it worth it.”

Your heart melted at his words, and suddenly, the cravings that had driven you both to near madness didn��t seem so bad. Joost tilted his head, watching you curiously. “So, what’s the next weird food combination you’re gonna make me suffer through?”

You laughed, already thinking about it. “Oh, don’t worry, love. I have plenty of ideas.”

© just1cefor4all— I don’t consent to my writing being reposted to other platforms or fed into AI. Translating it is also strictly prohibited. 🚫

[spr1ngtweaks]

Can I ask what you think would happen if pre-doctor Harley Sawyer had an S/O who has been with him for so long to the point of marriage being the next goal, but some kind of accident happens and they lose their memories of him? I was curious to see what you thought he'd react like, shading this "bond" with someone who worked so hard to gain his trust and love only to forget everything they had with him.

And maybe if you're up for it cause it could mix with the scenario, what's he like as a husband of he for some reason got to that point?

He’s already a man who struggles with trust, with connection, with letting himself have something good. And then to have that ripped away?

Yeah. He wouldn't take it well.

💔 Harley Sawyer & an S/O Who Lost Their Memories 💫

Initial Reaction – Shock, Denial, & a Deep, Ugly Fear

Harley isn’t a man who loves easily. If he got to the point of marriage? That means you had to fight, push, and tear down every wall he built around himself. You were different. You got through to him.

And then, just like that, it’s gone. You don’t know him. You don’t remember him.

At first, he thinks he can handle it. He’s logical, right? He can fix this.

But when he looks at you—when he sees the blank stare, the way you flinch when he reaches for you, the way his name means nothing to you anymore—

That’s when it really hits. That bond you both built, the one thing he let himself trust, it’s shattered.

How He Handles It – Badly, But He Won’t Show It

On the surface? He’s calm. Composed. Maybe even a little cold. He won’t let you see how deep the damage goes.

But behind closed doors? It wrecks him.

He stays up at night, replaying memories that you no longer have.

He clenches his fists hard enough to leave marks, fights the urge to force the memories back—because logic tells him he can’t.

He stares at old pictures, whispers your name like it’s a prayer, like saying it enough times will bring you back.

Would he try to make you remember?

Yes. But not by pushing you. Harley is methodical—he’ll watch, wait, test small things. He’ll see if old habits stick.

He’ll leave your favorite coffee on the table, just to see if you reach for it the way you used to.

He won’t tell you who he is to you. But his actions will.

And if you never remember? If he has to live with the fact that you’ll never look at him the same way again?

He’d rather you be safe, even if it means losing you completely.

Would He Stay? Would He Let Go?

Harley Sawyer does not let go easily.

But he’s also a man who knows what it means to lose everything. And if he thinks staying will hurt you more than it’ll hurt him?

He’d leave. He’d walk away before you could reject him—because that’s a pain he doesn’t think he could survive.

Maybe he disappears from your life entirely, watching from a distance, never interfering.

Or maybe, just maybe—he stays in the background. A shadow of what he used to be to you. Someone important, but no longer in the way he once was.

Harley Sawyer as a Husband – If He Ever Got That Far

"Husband" is just a word. What matters is that you’re mine. And I don’t let go."

He’s not a conventional husband. Marriage isn’t something he dreams about—it’s a risk. A vulnerability.

But if he got there? He’d take it seriously. You would be the only person who’s ever gotten that far, and that means something.

Protective as hell. He doesn’t get jealous, but he does get possessive. The kind where he doesn’t need to say anything—just a look is enough.

Acts of service > words of love. You won’t get flowery speeches, but you’ll find a knife at your bedside if he thinks you need protection. He’ll know you’re stressed before you say anything. He’ll have already handled it.

Physicality matters. He’s not one for PDA, but behind closed doors? His touches are grounding. Steady. Not always gentle, but always intentional.

He’s in it for life. Divorce? Not an option. If you get into a fight? He’s not leaving the house until it’s resolved. If something threatens you? It’s already handled before you even know about it.

What If You Started Falling for Him Again?

Would he let it happen?

At first, he wouldn’t believe it.

But if you started looking at him the way you used to? If your body remembered what your mind forgot—if you reached for him in your sleep, if his voice became a comfort again?

He’d try to stay distant. Try to convince himself it’s not real.

But the moment you tell him, even hesitantly, “I think I love you”—

That’s when he breaks.

That’s when he exhales the breath he’s been holding since he lost you.

And that’s when he finally, finally lets himself believe he hasn’t lost you after all.

[worldweary-walker]

I can't speak on the harassment thing. What I can say is that it's not as simple as "try or don't try," that the instruction of "choose to stand out" isn't that simple. I *am* putting the work in to elevate my appearance, and it's not as straightforward as it sounds.

"Stand out in a crowd. Wear something unusual." It sounds straightforward, but you have to know what most people are wearing. That's not hard to pick up, but most guys don't pay attention to it- they're not raised to pay attention to it, they have to realize it's a question (or be taught) and then start actively looking. It's a habit you have to work on.

"Pick clothes that look good." *Rough* to do. Most men's clothes come in large, medium, and small; most men (or at least, I and the ones I've asked in my area) make do (made do, rather) with whichever size is "close enough," rather than scouting for clothes that fit your frame and shape specifically. Again- not hard, but it's something you have to be *taught.*

"Good" clothes go beyond fit, too. You have to find colors that match, or at least don't clash; you have to *learn* which colors match. Jeans and a shirt are easy because jeans go with a lot of colors; learning to find ones that go together *well* is an entire process. This one *is* hard, even if you know what to look for.

Oh, and good fit and color isn't enough to make an outfit pop- of course not, that's a thesis in the original post. Understandable, really, because a lot of this *is* pretty basic once you know to look for it. You need to introduce something *more.* Pattern, texture... accessories.

I haven't delved into accessories yet. Accessories are something a lot of men *do* learn about, usually within a small set, but they're not something *I* was taught to work with. Rings, of course, earrings (often unusual for guys, so easy points there), bracelets, necklaces... and the whatnots that go with an outfit as a whole.

I am insufficiently educated on whatnots. I plan on looking into it- and, if anyone would like to point me at some resources, I would appreciate it. I know goths and emos (or just one of the two? I struggle to determine the difference) tend to have a lot of them, so I suspect there are folks here qualified to give some tips.

Regardless- rings, bracelets, necklaces. If you have a strong personal aesthetic, it's easy to find ones that match your style. I like eyes, so I've got some evil eye accessories, one or two realistic eyeball rings, an eye of horus ring somewhere... but most folks don't have an aesthetic. I don't know how to help find one- again, perhaps folks here can help.

Still- an aesthetic is something most men (and most people, generally) don't have, and that makes shopping for accessories much harder.

Now, patterns and texture.

Most men's clothes do not provide pattern and texture.

Meme shirts, band shirts, shirts of shows and movies and franchises, they exist- but they don't tend to go well with the other factors that "sell" an outfit (unless you're punk), and so they're hard to make work. They also suffer from the great disease of men's fashion: other than the print-on, they're usually plain and monocolor.

Almost all men's shirts outside the mentioned and button-ups are plain and monocolor. Cotton, wool, polyester, no matter what it is it's almost always going to be plain and unornamented unless you're shopping somewhere specialty.

"So shop somewhere specialty!" Yes. Correct, you have identified the solution. Men who want to elevate their style need to learn what fit matches their shape, find what colors go together and work for them, decide on an aesthetic, and go looking for stores that specifically sell clothes that match that aesthetic and look through them for clothes of the right fit and pallet. Over time, they can replace a wardrobe's worth of clothes with better-fitting and better-looking clothes.

It is a process. All of this is a process, and one that takes work and thought and effort. I know it's frustrating when people complain about a very solvable problem- but there's a reason so many haven't solved it, and it's because the problem is a lot bigger than "just try," or "just wear something better."

I just know that the dudes who make those "girls get 500 compliments a day vs. guy gets one compliment once and cherishes it for the rest of his life" memes put zero effort into their appearance. Like what exactly do you expect people to say? Wow nice plain ill-fitting hoodie, goes great with your basic-ass blue jeans and nondescript haircut. Got some real cool Grey Man vibes going on, you could seamlessly blend into any crowd ever without being seen at all.

Like nobody has any obligation to look any certain way, but you can't expect to be praised for doing something you're not even trying to do. I dress like I got tarred and feathered in a Tim Burton film costume department discard scrap pile, and someone saying they like my style is a biweekly occurrence.