#crying screaming biting the arm of my chair

[martianbugsbunny]

"What would you do if I was dying? Hold me and let me die in your arms or just let me lay there and bleed?"

[muffinlance]

The feral cat gator of a 13 year old freshly scarred Zuko being forcibly adopted by the foggy swamp tribe! Bonus points if they willfully ignore the fact he's a firebender and treat him as a very strange waterbender bending-wise

It was Earth Kingdom ships that drove the metal one onto the reefs, so when the little thing came crawling up through the marsh spitting and hissing and dressed in red, they knew it weren’t no earthbender. No matter how much mud it had tripped in, trying to find where the ground stopped sucking at its feet.

“Wow-ee,” said Old Earl, “that sure is one way of keepin’ off the ‘squito-chiggers.”

And they all watched from Big Earl’s porch, sitting or rocking, as them bugs came for the all-you-can-eat and ended up on the bar-b-que.

“Sure is some weird bending,” said Little Earl, who was taller than Big Earl, but when they'd been twelve and they’d wrestled for the title it hadn't been Little Earl who’d won.

The little thing looked maybe twelve, too. And he was little little. But he had that same look like he was going to shove someone’s face in the mud until they said otherwise, as he stood there all panting and dripping and just realizing they’d been watching him this whole time.

“It’s firebending,” the one-kid mud-wrestler said, as bugs kept pop-snapping into flames around him.

Old Earl cupped a hand over his ear, like he couldn’t hear. And he kept doing it, while the kid got louder and louder about that bending of his, but quieter and quieter about looking at them like they were his next bugs.

“Oh, firebending,” Old Earl said, nodding like he’d only just got it, when the kid had stomped straight up to his chair. “Right, right, Old Jane’s got fire-water-bending, too. Why don’t you take him to her, boys.”

“It’s not-- ugh,” shouted the kid, but maybe he only had the one volume. Certainly only had the one volume for stomping, even though stomping was what got a fellow’s shoes shoved down so deep in the mud they’d be seeing them again as mole-shrimp hats. Not that the kid had shoes. Neither did Earl, Earl, or Earl. ‘Cept for Fancy Earl, but he’d gone off to Ba-Singing-Se, to be fancy.

Anyway, Old Jane was the best at turning anything and everything into fire water, which was the kind of thing a fellow called his or her liquor when they wanted fancy folk to keep right on walking. Was really good for making shouty little firebrands take their naps, too, which let Old Jane get her glowing mitts all over that fresh burn of his. And the love-bites from the shark-wrasses that had probably been half the reason the kid had come a-shore all a-shouting in the first place.

“Nope,” diagnosed Old Jane, when the kid woke back up. “That’s just how he talks. Mother was a screamer-bird, I’d say.”

“You take that back about my mother,” screamed their screamer-bird, who had pretty good hearing for someone who’s ear had lost the same fight as his eye. Anyway, Old Jane had done the best she could about both, and nothing was on fire that shouldn’t be, and she had that extra quilt she’d been working on that needed a body under it

And the waves and the shark-wrasses had all the rest of the kid’s crew

So sure enough they set their little screamer-bird up with a nest and let him cry loud as he wanted.

Anyway, if there was one thing Earl Earl Earl and Jane knew, it was how to make a joke so good the other person didn’t even know it were a joke.

“Firebending,” their little fledgling shouted, and waved his arms around, like all that fire pointed at no one was going to get them startled off.

“A-yep,” nodded Old Earl. “That there is some fire-water-bending. Just like Old Jane.”

Old Jane wasn’t the kind of gal who showed off, but she wasn’t the kind who missed no cue, either. She swirled a lick o’ liquor out of her latest barrel and twirled it ‘round and straight into her mouth, and when she spit it out, it looked so much like the little bird’s breath-o’-fire that he didn’t even notice the spark rocks she kept on her fingers as jewelry. No one did, ‘til they’d seen the trick a few times.

The kid’s mouth hung open so low and so long, a moth-tick flew in. That was some kind of life lesson, that was. The swamp was good at sending those.

The Earth Kingdom sent troops a-stompin’ through, losing boots and scaring catigators out of their sunning spots left and right, askin’ all rumbly about those fires they’d spotted, and if anyone from that shipwreck had made it on shore, and talkin’ about how there’d be money in it for them if they made that last answer a “yes,” sounding like Fancy Earl and all his talk about commerce and living standards.

“Got a few parts of them ship people in the lagoon,” Big Earl said. “Probably still floatin’ if you want ‘em. But we better bring the shrimp-minnow nets, ‘cuase they’ll just slosh on through the turtle-sturgeon ones.”

“...No thank you,” the head stomper said, like sayin’ polite words made a fellow a polite man. He’d tracked those boots of his right up onto their porch without so much as a scuff on their mud rug. Even the kid had used the mud rug. “And the fire?”

“Oh,” said Little Earl, with a grin, “that was Old Jane.”

And she did her trick again, only less tricky, so they could see the spark rocks real good. “You boys want some fire water?” she offered. “It ain’t blinded no one who wasn’t already headed that way.”

They didn’t want any, which was grand, ‘cause she hadn’t really been offering.

When the last of them had gone stomping off back to the kind of land that let people stomp it, it took them two whole hours to lure out the catigators from under the porch. And their little screamer bird, too.

“...Why didn’t you turn me in?”

“What?” asked Old Earl, cupping his ear.

“Why—”

“What?”

“—didn’t—”

“WHAT?”

“—you—”

“Speak up, boy,” Old Earl said. “I never heard such a quiet child.”

And boy, did that set their bird back to singing.

[evie-sturns]

Snap - Chris Sturniolo

summary: when you apparently 'distract matt' while matt's driving chris snaps at you, he regrets his choice of words instantly when you get upset.

contains: angst, crying, makeup-sex, fluff, arguing, yelling, gentle!chris.

----------------------.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.-------------------

i sit in the backseats of the sturniolos car, nick is to my left scrolling aimlessly on his phone and chris is in the passenger seat. the conversation in the car is quiet.

matt swings round a corner earning a small laugh from me,

"matt, can you turn up the music please?" i ask chirpily,

chris has been on edge the whole day, we've bickered countless times throughout the afternoon.

chris's jaw clenches as i repeat myself, "matt?"

"one second-" matt mutters while switching lanes,

i reach my arm out and turn up the volume myself, leaning over the center console from the backseat slightly.

the volume in the car raises, the headlights illuminate the road infront of us as i lean back into my chair.

"you don't have to turn up the music now, patience would be nice for a change." chris mumbles, i brush off his comment.

"do you know when we're gonna be home or not?" i ask softly, clutching my seatbelt restlessly as matt switches lanes again

then chris snaps.

"hes driving us safley to our fucking house!" chris yells, his voice booms throughout the car,

i've never heard chris yell like that, i've never heard chris yell in general.

"chris- shut up?" i bite back, my attitude kicking in

"stop distracting him!" chris screams at me, his head snaps back and looks at me over his shoulder, veins are visible on his pale forehead.

"shut up!" i yell back at him out of shock, my voice is shaking and i'm nowhere near as loud as chris.

"stop distracting him, you're fucking annoying!" chris shouts,

the whole car goes dead silent.

"you can not fucking talk to your girlfriend like that?" nick raises his voice at chris,

"i'll do what the fuck i want!" chris replies angrily.

"oh my god guys, stop? nobodys distracted and nobody is fucking annoying." matt says from the frontseat,

i take in shaky breathes, when i say that chris has never yelled like that before i mean it, my ears hurt.

nick wraps his arms around me, stroking my hair lightly. "i'm so sorry about him" nick whispers quickly,

the only thing i can do is nod, staring straight ahead at the back of chris's head.

i don't even realise i'm crying until i feel my cheeks become soaked, i take in a deep shaking breath.

the whole car is completely quiet as we pull into our street, not a word has been said since chris's outburst.

“dude stop fucking acting like i just punched her in the nose she’s fucking fine.” chris says from the front seat,

“watch yourself chris.” nick warns,

i see chris glare back at me, i wrap my arms around nick as we pull into our driveway, the painfully long drive is finally finished.

chris instantly pulls on the door handle to open it even though it’s locked

“unlock the door matt.” chris mutters

“bro when i unlock the door you are gonna go straight into your bedroom and sort your shit out.” matt raises his voice

chris’s jaw clenches as he looks out the window, matt unlocks the car door and chris instantly swings the door open, he slams his shut behind him and storms up the driveway.

the whole car goes silent with matt, nick and i in it, aside from the small sniffles coming from me.

“i’ve never seen him like that i’m so sorry.” nick sighs, i nod silently

“c’mon inside,” matt says, stepping out of the car and opening the door for me.

i step out onto the concrete of the driveway, the cold night air against my warm skin makes me shudder.

nick holds my hand as we walk up the steps of the front porch, chris didn’t leave the door open for us like usual.

matt fiddles around with the doorknob and finally creaks it open.

i step into the house and instantly grow warm again, i think it’s the fact the heatings on mixed with the amount of adrenaline coursing through my body.

“you can come stay in my room tonight.” nick whispers, almost dragging me down the corridor into his comforting room.

“have a good sleep!” matt calls out with a sympathetic sad smile on his face, “thank you matt.” i croak,

i flop down on nicks bed with a small sigh, nick jumps down next to me and tugs up the covers. i rest my head on his arm as i fight back more tears.

“you can let it out now, it’s just us.” nick whispers,

that’s enough for me to start sobbing, floods of tears fall down my cheeks.

“i’m sorry-“ my voice breaks, “i’ve just never really been yelled at like that.”

“i know, i don’t know what’s wrong with him and i’m so sorry.” nick sighs, he runs his hand through my hair as i continue to cry.

“he’s gonna fix this, i promise.” nick says softly, i nod into his arm.

-

i’ve been laying in nicks bed for around an hour, my tears have mostly stop due to the fact i’m so tired, too tired to keep crying.

my eyes flutter shut again,

abruptly i hear noises coming from matt’s room, they don’t sound like arguing but it doesn't sound.. normal.

i sit up in bed,

"dude- you know i cant sleep alone c'mon." i hear chris say with a shaky voice,

"yeah, well your fucking girlfriend would be in bed with you right now if you didnt scream at her for an hour." matt replies,

"so go back to your own room." matt follows up.

chris lets out a wobbling sigh, i hear the door to matts room slam shut followed by small footsteps coming down the corridor

i hear the footsteps grow closer to nicks room before a soft couple of knocks on the door, my heart drops as i lay back down in bed.

"what." nick calls out,

"can i speak to y/n, please-" chris almost whispers,

nick looks over at me, i hesitate before nodding.

i stand up out of bed and walk over to the door, i creak it open and im met with chris's face.

he kind of looks like a train wreck.

his lips are red and puffy, his eyes are swollen and bloodshot and his brunette locks are messy and hes avoiding eye contact.

"um- do you want to come to our room, i just want to talk to you- you dont have to though" chris stambles, tilting his head towards our room.

i nod, chris goes to reach for my hand then pulls back. i follow behind him up the corridor towards our shared bedroom.

he opens the door for me, i walk inside awkwardly, the silence is deafening.

i plop down on the bed and chris follows, he sits down a couple feet away from me and his gaze shifts towards me.

chris fidgets with his long fingers before his blue eyes meet mine.

"i'm so- sorry for what happened earlier-- i know i raised my voice, and i shouldn't have at all. it wasn't fair to you, and it wasn't right, i wasn't thinking straight." chris starts after a couple seconds of silence.

"i messed up, big time. i let my weird 'fuckin mood take over, and i directed it at you, which was completley uncalled for. i hate everything i did, and for making you cry, and yelling in general. you mean everything to me and im so so sorry."

"i dont even know what happened, it was like it wasn't me talking dude- i just love you so much and- and-" chris's voice breaks,

he brings his pale hands up to his flushed face and wipes his eyes.

"please forgive me" he says while running a hand through his hair.

i scoot over to chris and wrap my arms around his trembling body, the warmth of his body comforting me.

"i don't know why you yelled at me like that, but ill try to forget about it." i sigh, chris nods and burys his face into my chest.

i pull away from chris and take his face in my hands, his cheeks are a deep red and his lips are raw.

i press my lips to his softly, i wrap my arms around the back of his neck before straddling him.

i sit comfortably on his lap before shifting slightly,

suddenly chris lets out a low whimper into my mouth,

the kiss wasn't even sexual, there was no tongue, just lips pressed together.

i let out a small laugh,

i feel a poking against my inner thigh, "are you serious chris?" i giggle,

"i am so sorry- i don't know how that happened" chris says in a panicked tone

"how did you get hard from that?" i scoff, rubbing my eyes.

"i don't know." chris sighs, "ill go fix it just give me a couple minutes"

he goes to stand up off the bed but i pin him back down,

"don't say that? i'll make you feel better chris."

"i don't want you to have to do that, i don't want you to think i only apologised for sex-" chris rambles, i press a finger to his lips,

"i know that wasn't why you apologised." i assure him before lifting my baggy shirt off of my body,

chris's eyes gaze over my bare chest, i feel him grow fully hard.

"oh fuck" chris laughs slightly, i stand up off of chris's lap and shimmy my pyjama shorts down my legs.

i'm left in my light pink lace panties, which quickly follow in the pile of my clothes on the floor.

chris stands up off the bed and walks over to me, he picks me up by my ass and throws me down onto the bed. "are you sure?" chris asks, "yes chris." i smile

chris fidgets with the buckle of his belt, which keeps his baggy jeans up.

his discards his belt on the floor before unbuttoning his denim jeans. chris's jeans fall to the floor followed by his boxers,

letting his erection spring out, his tip taps his stomach before he stands between my thighs,

chris is usually a rough, fast sex kind of guy, but hes not acting like that today. he's being slow and his tough is so gentle.

he brushes his fingers over the hem of my panties before pulling them to the side. chris presses a light kiss to the inside of my thighs before standing back up.

"you ready sweetheart?" chris asks, tracing mindless shapes on my clit lightly.

"yeah-" i reply

chris lines himself up with me before pressing his tip inside of me,

he lets out a sigh of relief as soon as he enters me, i sink my top teeth into my bottom lip with a small moan.

chris presses further of his length inside of me, stretching my walls around him, "you feeling okay?" chris whispers, grabbing my waist lightly.

"feels.. really good" i breathe.

chris finally bottoms out, i feel his tip lightly press against my cervix before he almost pulls out again, then presses back inside of me.

he leans down and presses a soft kiss to my lips, i moan into his mouth as his thrusts continue.

chris pulls away from the kiss and presses his forehead to mine, his brunette hair resting on my bare forehead.

chris uses his free hand to move some of my hair away from my eyes, i feel his tip repeatedly brush against my g-spot.

with every thrust he hits that spot, earning louder moans from me.

"oh chris!" i whine, arching my back off the bed as his pace picks up a little bit.

"you're taking me so well, feel so good around my dick." chris praises me, knowing i love it when he praises me.

chris reaches his hand down between where our body meets and presses his hand onto my lower stomach.

"feel me right there?" chris asks,

he pushes deep inside of me causing a obvious stomach bulge, my mouth falls open as i feel my mind fog

"fuck chris- oh my god im so close" i babble out, "keep doing that- please"

chris lets out a low laugh, "im close aswell pretty girl"

chris reaches further down and rubs my clit, applying just the right amount of pleasure.

and thats enough to send me over the edge.

i feel an intense amount of pleasure wash over me, "chris!" i call out, clenching around his length as i release.

chris pulls out of me and strokes himself a couple of times before finishing on my stomach "oh god.." chris groans, throwing his head back.

he flops down on the bed before pulling me onto his stomach, "i love you so much." chris breathes out deeply,

"i love- you to." i pant,

chris lets out a small laugh before reaching his hand to my stomach, he wipes his cum off of me with a grimace on his face.

"sorry that was kind of gross." chris laughs.

"it was hot." i correct him.

chris sits up and carrys me over to the couch in his room, he sits me down on it before digging through his closet.

chris pulls out a shirt of his and some sweatpants, he brings them over to me and tugs the sweatpants up my legs and pulls the shirt onto me.

"you're so pretty." chris smiles, "dont be boosting my ego now chris." i joke

"its truee thoughh" he replies.

"you're so stupid." i say, my cheeks going red.

"you're flustered so somethings clearly working." he grins, helping me up off the couch.

"it doesnt matter, i need water." i giggle,

chris reaches for his bedroom door and opens it for me, i step out into the corridor and grab chris's hand,

we walk down the corridor together into the kitchen where nick is sat,

he looks up at us with a small sigh

"glad to hear you two made up" nick groans dramatically,

"what?" chris says, his eyebrows furrowing.

"chris. all i could hear for the past 20 minutes was 'chriss dont stop' it was a living hell." nick says holding back a laugh,

my eyes widen,

"you guys are gross" nick smiles with an eye roll, nick walks past us out of the kitchen and punching chris in the arm.

"chris-" i protest,, my face red.

"hey- to be fair you were quite loud..."

-------------------

BRO BILLIES NEW ALBUM SENT ME TO HEAVEN I SWEAR, also i saw this mega fucking hot guy at the supermarket today like im talking hotter than matt sturniolo deadass.

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[happilyhertale]

Take your Place – Daemon Targaryen x fem!wife!reader

Summary: Your husband was away for months, leading the battle against the Triarchy and ultimately bringing victory. Now he is back and a ball is being held in celebration. Throughout the evening, you have spoken with many lords and ladies – but you have not seen the person you long for. So you go in search of him.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!wife!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Sex (p in v)

Author’s note: English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 1.8 k

Other stories of mine

12 Days of Smuffmas

12 Days of Smuff

The hall is filled with music and laughter. Lords and ladies are sitting at the various tables, engrossed in conversation. The wine tastes good and has already caused a few men to slip off their chairs tonight. And this exuberant mood is appropriate, because the Triarchy has finally been repelled in the Stepstones and your husband is being celebrated for it.

You walk through the rows of tables, looking for your husband. You know that he is most likely sitting somewhere with his men and has already had way too much to drink. But although you would normally be able to spot his silver hair anywhere, you can't see him.

But then something grabs your hand and pulls you down roughly. You cry out a little and are about to answer this impertinence with a slap in the face. But you look up as you land on a lap, fingers on your face, caressing you, while a drunken smile reflects back at you.

“Daemon!” you say, but you can't stop the smile that is already spreading across your face. You slowly try to get up again, but Daemon has other plans. His arms wrap around you and he presses his face into the crook of your neck while pressing your back against his chest.

“Stay.” is the only thing he slurs, and you notice the wine on his breath, which he has been consuming all evening.

You just smile slightly, but nod barely noticeable, as you stay on his lap. Your eyes wander around and you were right, his men have spent the evening with him. Some are already hanging drunk in the chairs and a few others are still trying to talk, but you only perceive a kind of grunt.

Daemon kisses your neck, his fingers press lightly into your thighs as he whispers in a low voice, “What are we going to do after this ball?”

You glance slightly over your shoulder and your eyes meet. His gaze is almost soft and you have to smile, “well... I'm going to go to sleep after this ball... you'll probably throw up...” you say to him, trying to suppress a smile.

Daemon chuckles and then laughs a little – he can't deny how many times he's thrown up in a bowl while you've been in bed.

“You know damn well that's not what I meant,” he mutters into your neck as his laughter subsides.

Now you have to giggle a little, “No?” you ask playfully, “I don't know what you mean...”

Daemon leans in and kisses your neck again, breathing into your ear, “I mean that I'd like to spend some time alone with you, love.”

Your eyes are locked on him and you see the determination in his gaze.

“Are you sure you're capable of having a night of pleasure... you're very drunk ...” you say softly.

Daemon grins drunkenly and caresses your cheek. He leans forward and whispers seductively in your ear.

“I'm not too drunk to make you moan, love.”

Your cheeks flush and your eyes widen.

“Daemon!” you say, and even some of his men grin at you, seeming to know what he's saying to make you blush.

Daemon grins at you and his fingers press into your thighs again as he leans forward to whisper in your ear again.

“I'm not too drunk to make you scream for me, love.”

The blush is now creeping down your cleavage. You bite your lip lightly.

“Stop it, Daemon...” you whisper, but you try to squeeze your thighs together a little as you notice the pulsing between your thighs.

Daemon chuckles at your reaction and squeezes your thighs even tighter. He continues to whisper seductively in your ear, “Then stop me, love. Come on.”

You can't stop yourself and you move your hips slightly to create some friction. But then Daemon grabs you and lifts you slightly to turn you on his lap. Confusion graces your features until you straddle him. “We're not supposed to be doing this here,” you say quietly, but he just grins.

“What? You're my wife and you're happy that I'm back... and you show me that by sitting on my lap,” he says, his words slightly slurred. You just shake your head slightly, but before you can say anything, Daemon presses his lips against yours. You gasp slightly, but you respond to his kiss. He grins when he feels your hips moving again, grinding against him slightly. He caresses your cheek and pulls you closer to him, his tongue meeting yours and your kiss intensifying. You feel him getting hard and you let out a small moan, but not loud enough for anyone else to hear. Daemon smiles a little as he feels that you cannot stop moving, that you keep grinding against him. He pulls your hips closer to him as he speaks, letting his fingers glide along your thighs. His lips gently slide down your neck and whispers seductively, “I'd like to see your dress on the floor.” Your eyes flutter closed and his words elicit a slight moan from your lips. But you bite your lip to make no further sound.

“The skirt of my dress is very wide...” you finally whisper softly, breathing heavily. “Maybe you could unbutton your trousers and... I mean, I could sit on you and no one would notice...“ you say quietly.

“But you're already sitting on me...” he mumbles teasingly and gets an annoyed look from you. Daemon glances over at his men and tries not to grin. None of them are looking in your direction, they seem to be engaged in conversation or have their heads on the table, snoring.

“But maybe.. it could work,” he mutters finally. Daemon slides his hand under your skirt, begins to unbutton his trousers, and glances at you from time to time. You look at him, everything except for your upper bodies is hidden under the skirt of your dress. Daemon lets his hands move back to your hips and you move slightly again. Then you have to suppress a moan as you feel his hard cock, how its length presses against your folds. His hands slide to your hips, gripping you, as he presses his the tip of your cock against your entrance.

You look at him, gasp slightly and then lean forward to kiss him as you feel your cunt clench around nothing from the mere anticipation of getting to sheath him. Slowly you lift up and then slowly lower yourself onto his hard cock.

You let yourself sink all the way down, your breath catching. You don't move so that no one can see what you are doing, but you're breathing out heavily.

Daemon suppresses a groan as he feels you move. He leans back further in his chair, eyes closed and head tilted back slightly. His smile widens a little, you feel his cock twitch slightly inside you. “You're so filthy, love,” he murmurs. You bite your lip, moving your hips slightly. “Gods... Daemon...,” you whisper. You close your eyes as he fills you completely. Daemon's moans are becoming harder and harder to suppress. He looks around to make sure his men are not watching. He leans forward to speak seductively in your ear, “Good girl. You feel so good,“ and makes you whimper. “I've missed your big cock...“ you suddenly let slip, making Daemon chuckle briefly, but it ends in a groan as he feels you moving up and down slowly.

“Gods... You feel so good, my love.” He closes his eyes and clenches his teeth as he leans back in his chair and his hands return to your thighs. His hand finds its way under your skirt, his fingertips leaving a fiery trail on your skin.

His thumb glides through your folds until he finds your clit and begins to rub it, making you whimper again “Daemon... I... I...” you stutter as your hips move a little faster. You slide up and down along his length, breathing heavily, your hand sliding to the back of his neck, gripping him, and he growls. Daemon leans forward again, biting your earlobe, “Good girl. That's a good girl.” He leans his head back again, trying to suppress a groan. His gaze returns to you, and he feels your cunt flutter around his cock as you slam your hips down on him. His thumb rubs faster as he kisses you again.

“Come on... Show me how much you've missed this... Riding me... My cock deep inside your tight cunt,” he growls against your lips. And then you moan into his mouth. Your pussy clutches his thick cock. “Gods...” you whimper as your orgasm floods your body. Your cunt milks his cock as you slide up and down. He grunts as he feels his balls tighten. “Daemon...” you whimper, your hand on his neck slides into his hair, grabs lightly while you cum all over his cock. Daemon bites the inside of his lip to suppress a groan. His eyes are closed and his expression is full of lust; he is visibly enjoying it. You moan into his mouth as your orgasm subsides. You are breathing heavily, your eyes are closed. Slowly you open them again, you feel his hips moving slightly again. “Did you come?“ you ask in a whisper. Daemon sighs contentedly and looks down at you. He glances around to make sure that no one is around. ”Not yet, my love,” he speaks softly and caresses your face. “And you will help me finish it,” he grunts. You nod and lean forward again to kiss him. Your hips move slightly faster. “Come for me, my dragon,“ you whisper against his lips. Daemon is breathing heavily and his eyes are closed. He moans softly, your words making his cock twitch. He grabs your waist. "I'm close, love. I'm close.” “Fill me, my dragon...” you whisper against his lips. While you press your hips firmly against him. His cock is deep inside your tight heat as you gyrate your hips. Your hips move faster as you gently bite his lip.

And then he moans, his hips thrusting up and making you squeak slightly. He growls as he pumps his cum into you. You kiss him again and let your hips slow down. You slide up and down more slowly, milking the last drop out of him, to ride out his orgasm. His eyes are closed as he breathes heavily, clenching his teeth. “Love,” he growls.

Daemon leans forward and presses his forehead against yours. He tries to speak but nothing but breathless groans come out, although he tries to hide it. His breathing is slow and shallow as he holds you. “Gods, Love, gods.” he gasps quietly. You giggle slightly and gently kiss his cheek.

“Shall we retire to our chambers?” you whisper, and he just nods. His hands slide back under your skirt, fully covering himself again, and then he helps you up from his lap.

[vivwritescrappythings]

crack me open, swallow me whole

alpha!joel miller x omega!f!reader

part 1

you go on one patrol without joel and a band of raiders finds you

tw: a/b/o/ dynamics, afab reader, fem reader, alpha joel, omega reader, violence, blood, kidnapping, angst, comfort, SMUT, knotting, claiming bites, p in v sex, creampie, unprotected sex, dubcon, not proofread

wc: 4.5k

masterlist

MDNI!

--

The smell of other alphas made you feel like you were choking. Their acrid scent soaked the cloth they had forced between your teeth as a gag, tied behind your head so tight that your cheeks were starting to ache. A blindfold was over your eyes, thin enough that you could see the sun shining in the room.

It was disorienting, you had never been reduced to only your hearing and smell. Your wrists were bound behind you, arms contorted painfully around the back of a chair. 

You’d been slipping in and out of consciousness for a while now, not sure if days were passing or hours between each moment of wakefulness. It had been a while since you had stopped crying and trying to scream through the gag. There was no one to help you anyway, expending what little energy you had left was no use. 

If you were honest with yourself, you probably were going to die there. 

You sobbed when the clarity of your realization washed over you. You’d never see Joel again, or Ellie, or any of your friends back in Jackson. Hell, Joel wouldn’t even know what happened to you, just that you went on patrol without him once and you didn’t come back.

Joel.

He would surely blame himself. 

It was hard enough for you and Tommy to convince him to switch partners for the week so Joel could help him clear out a group of infected getting a little too close to town. The agreement had been that you’d do a simple patrol of the wall with Jason, a beta. It was the only way Joel would agree.

You didn’t even know what happened to Jason, the butt of a gun slamming down on the back of your head had the world turning sideways as you fell to the grass. The way your blood trickled into your hair cemented itself in your memory.

Whatever happened to Jason, you hoped he didn’t suffer much. 

Your head still throbbed like a heartbeat, somewhere in the recesses of your mind you wondered if you should be worried about having a concussion. A disembodied voice you couldn’t recognize reminded you to not sleep if you were concussed—but it was too late for that, you didn’t even know how long you’d been unconscious for. 

It may have been better if you didn’t wake up again, easier that way.

“Hey, doll.” The voice made you flinch. You hadn’t even heard him come into the room. A hand brushed over your neck, cold fingers pressing against your scent gland until you whined into the gag.

He laughed cruelly as you tried to tilt your head away, the chair creaking as you struggled against your bonds. The rusty smell of blood filled your nose as he stood close. It seemed to cling to the alpha, you still didn’t know if he just never cleaned up or if it was his natural scent. 

“It’s crazy that no alpha has snatched you up yet,” he whispered, his warm breath on your ear making goosebumps prickle up your spine. “I’m tempted to sink my teeth into you.”

You wished you had let Joel do it. Even if everything ended the same way, you found yourself desperate for some proof that you were his and he was yours. He had never asked to, never pressured you. You found yourself working your way to asking him as your relationship hit a year mark. 

But you didn’t, still scared.

The stranger pressed his bared teeth against the curve of your neck. You screamed into the gag, the sound dying into a sob as you managed to shuffle the chair a bit, nearly tipping it over. Being forced into a claim was your nightmare, your instincts warring against your mind. You didn’t want to be bonded to a monster like him.

The pressure of his teeth lifted, his quiet chuckling was barely audible over the sound of you hyperventilating through the gag. “The boys would kill me if I did, though,” he murmured, clicking his tongue against his teeth like a disappointed mother. “They’ve never been with an omega before, I wouldn’t want to ruin that for them.”

You didn’t know how many “boys” there were, you could only recognize the alpha leaning over your shoulder. He was the only voice you’d heard, but sometimes you could hear laughter and smell other people in the room. There wasn’t an omega among them aside from you.

He grabbed your face, fingers digging into your cheeks and forcing your jaw open. You tried to wrench your head away, knowing what came next before you felt the pill tablet slip over the gag and onto your tongue. 

The first time it happened you had spent so long trying to spit it out around the gag that it dissolved on your tongue. You swallowed the pill, too exhausted at this point to keep fighting it. It was hard to keep resisting the longer you were trapped, hope bleeding out of you.

Your mind swam as the drug settled in, curling up heavy and warm in your bones as your head started to fall back, body giving in to sleep as it beckoned you. The fear mellowed into a sense of unease, just enough to pull you under the surface. 

—

“What do you mean Adam is missing?” 

Commotion woke you up. The clash of too many voices disoriented you—you didn’t even know that many people were a part of the compound. Arguing came in layers, a few voices shouting over the rest as they vied for control of the conversation. 

“He went back by Jackson, wanted to loot the body of that beta we left there. I told him it was a stupid idea but it was useless.” He trailed off, other voices filling the silence. 

Poor Jason.

“Well those two big alphas were busy culling infected, I doubt they found him.”

You clumsily realized they were talking about Joel and Tommy. Hope made you wonder if they did find him. If they could find you.

“You’re a fucking idiot! You should have stopped him!”

You could hear a scuffle, shoes scrabbling across the concrete floor and grunts. The dull smack of a body hitting the ground made you flinch beneath the blindfold. He sounded alive, groaning.

“Should we kill her?”

Your heart dropped. Panic swelled in your throat, choking you as you tried not to squirm under the weight of an unknown number of eyes on you. 

“Not yet, we don’t even know if there is anything to worry about.”

“Yeah, why would those alphas come after her?”

“The same reason we took her, dumbass. There’s not that many omegas.”

Your head was spinning, your parched lips sore around your gag. Joel could find you. He was just as bad as these men before you knew him, he’d told you about the years he and Tommy and Tess were hunters. There was more blood on Joel’s hands than you could have ever guessed, but that meant he could think like the monsters that took you.

The silence of agreement washed over the room. “Well what have we been waiting for, then?”

Then you picked up the sound of gunshots outside. There weren’t many, maybe one or two guns blasting followed by shouts. You were too disoriented to make out the words, but they sounded frantic.

But you were finally alone, or at least not the center of attention. You wriggled your wrists in the bonds as much as you could, your teeth clenching around the gag as you nearly dislocated shoulders pulling them from the back of the chair. You arched off the seat like a bow, using your head to get your arms off the rest of the way, trying to resist the urge to cry as the metal dug into your biceps.

You grasped frantically behind you, lifting the chair out of the ropes around your ankles. It was hard not to sob as you stumbled on your feet. The gravel and broken glass dug crunched beneath your feet as you moved blindly through the room.

The gunshots were louder as you moved forward, running into doorways and walls as you fought to place one foot in front of the other. Your pace was odd, limping as you tried to jog without throwing off your balance. You must have twisted your ankle when you got knocked out. It twinged with each step, begging you to stop, to take your time.

But you couldn’t.

There was too much yelling, too many gunshots. You steered yourself away from them, having to rub your shoulder along the hallway wall to orient yourself. Each turn was counted in an attempt to keep you from running in circles. 

Your breaths were labored through the gag, each inhale thick and musty. The lack of food was getting to you, your head spinning with each step. 

You’d given yourself an impossible task. That was quickly becoming more apparent to you as each hallway brought you to another and each door led to another room. You could only imagine the size of the compound, wondering if the building used to be an office or an apartment complex. 

You pressed a door open with your hip, a cool breeze buffeting against your cheeks. The doorjamb caught your foot as you stepped over the threshold, sending you stumbling into empty air.

The wind was knocked out of you as you landed on your back on the last step, your shoulder blades and head in the dirt as you tried to wheeze through the gag. Pain ricocheted through your hands, still bound at the small of your spine as you choked like a fish out of water. 

The gunshots were louder outside. Outside. You made it.

If you could just find cover and some way to cut the ropes around your wrists you could get home. Hope twisted in your chest as you forced yourself to turn onto your knees, your cheek pressed against the ground as you got your bearings.

You took a few deep breaths, grunting as you lifted yourself to your feet. The only sense of direction you had were the stairs leading back inside the compound. You hesitantly stepped forward, trying to feel for any obstacles with your feet as you prayed no one saw you. 

The gunshots died down, eventually fading into silence. That was worse.

You got more frantic, kicking in front of you with each step as you tried to pick up your pace.

The sound of heavy footsteps to your right made shivers run up your spine. You screamed into your gag, running full out away from your pursuer. Caution was thrown to the wind, your steps lengthening as you barreled toward the unknown.

The deep voice of an alpha shouted, the sound of it almost making you trip. You couldn’t make out the words over the sound of your heart pounding in your chest. 

Your foot caught on a pipe, the metal ringing hollowly. The ground hit you so hard that you were stunned, sobbing into the gag. Patches of grass tickled at your nose, making you roll onto your back as you hyperventilated.

The steps drew closer, heavy and even. 

“Baby!”

Maybe you were dying, bleeding out onto the dirt. You could imagine the blood pouring so quickly that you were starting to hallucinate Joel being there. 

“Baby… Jesus,” the voice repeated, so close to you. You cried into the gag, heels scrabbling over the ground as you tried to find purchase in the dirt. 

Joel’s heart broke as he saw you. He’d never seen you so frightened, blindfolded and gagged as you scrambled in the dirt. Your clothes were torn and dirty, he could smell the dried blood on you as he got close. 

He could smell the fear on you.

He stepped over the exposed length of pipe that had tripped you up, crouching over you. “Baby, baby shh, shh,” he murmured, trying to comfort you, “It’s okay, it’s me. It’s Joel.”

You were screaming, kicking at the alpha with your feet. Only a few landed, bouncing off his body as though they hardly mattered. He was so close he felt warm, your knee smashing into his leg as he crouched down over you. The will to survive filled you.

Then he grabbed your head in one large hand, holding you still as he pressed his wrist to your nose. His hand felt too warm against your skin. You cringed away from his touch, holding your breath until your lungs burned.

It was the only thing he could think of to show that it was him, your Joel. Not some monstrous alpha that took you.

His familiar scent filled your lungs with each breath. The fight died out of you fast enough, your surrender prompting him to carefully lift your head up enough for him to untie the gag and blindfold, pulling both scraps of cloth from you.

You blinked at the overcast sky, reeling from the sudden brightness as you blinked harshly. Joel was little more than a blur above you as you shut your mouth, trying to wet your sandpaper tongue.

He knew what you needed, he always knew. 

His canteen was pressed to your lips in just a moment, a few sips of cool water sliding down your throat as Joel’s free hand anchored between your shoulder blades, lifting you into a seated position. You drank greedily, water running down your chin and soaking into your clothes.

“Slow down, you’ll choke,” Joel murmured, moving in close. He pulled you into his lap, resting you on his quads as he leaned you against his broad chest. You stank of other alphas, his nose wrinkling as he nuzzled at your temple. But he could actually breathe again for the first time in days.

“Joel,” you whined, turning your face into his neck. Tears rolled down your cheeks, soaking into his flannel shirt as you settled against him.

“I know,” he answered, reaching around you to cut the rope off your wrists. Your skin was raw beneath them, his fingertips tracing around the edges of the irritation. God, he never should’ve let you go without him.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Joel whispered, his blood-stained hands pulling you to his chest. You twisted in his hold, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. “This is my fault.”

You sniffled, holding onto Joel as you buried your face in his chest. “S’not your fault,” you mumbled through tears. There was no way you could blame him.

Joel huffed, trying to hold himself together. He rested his chin on top of your head, thumbs rubbing circles on your skin as he rocked you slowly. “If I was there, this wouldn’t have happened. I wouldn’t have let it. Woulda had to kill me before they could get to you.”

He took a deep breath, looking up at the sky for a second. God didn’t seem real to him since the outbreak started, hell, he even doubted before that. But he started praying the second they found Jason’s body outside the wall. It ran through his mind like a mantra for the past three days, he was constantly praying that he found you alive.

“Thought you were dead,” Joel found himself admitting, voice cracking as he spoke. “I was so fuckin’ worried about you.”

You pulled your face from his neck, your chapped lips searching for his. “I’m here, didn’t lose me,” you said softly, stamping your lips over his. You could hear his next question before it formed on his lips.

“M’not bit,” you added, taking his broad hand and smoothing it over the intact skin over the scent gland on your neck.

You could hear the relief in his exhale, his fingers curling around the back of your neck as his thumb pressed your scent gland. He brought your forehead to his, taking a deep breath as his umber eyes slipped closed. His aquiline nose bumped yours and ran up your cheek. 

The breeze was chilly, making you shift closer to Joel. You ended up straddling his waist, your hands connected behind his neck. Neediness settled low in your stomach.

“Alpha,” you whined softly, fingers combing through his thick curls. 

Joel’s dark eyes opened, his brows bunching. You never called him that in the year you two had been together, even during your heats. “Yeah, baby?” Joel asked, his wide hands finding your hips as he kept you steady. 

The gravel in his tone made you keen, your heart in your throat as you nuzzled into the hinge of his jaw. “I don’t smell like you anymore,” you mumbled, voice soft and sweet and thick with tears. You reeked of alphas you didn’t recognize, the smell of them making you feel sick. 

Joel let out a breath through his nose, nodding. “I know, but we’ll get you home and clean you up.”

“I thought I’d never see you again.” You sounded distraught, tears gathering on your lash line as you pulled back to look at Joel. His heart ached, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you tight against him. You sniffled, lips parting as you took a deep breath. “The whole time I just wished that I let you claim me.”

His heart stopped. Instinct made his teeth itch to sink into you, to finally have you completely. But instead he ground his teeth together, jaw flexing beneath his beard. “You don’t mean that,” he said, “s’just the shock.”

He wished he was wrong. 

You shook your head, slanting your lips over his as you rolled your hips. Joel was already hardening beneath you, his hands guiding your movements. “Joel.”

That was a tone he recognized all too well, fire igniting in his chest like you’d set off a bomb.

“I’m so happy you’re alive,” he mumbled as he yanked you to him, the words muffled against your mouth. The kiss was needy, teeth clashing and noses practically bruising cheeks. 

You wanted him, wanted to feel safe and taken care of and consumed. He started pushing your jacket off your shoulders. “You smell like those fuckers,” Joel admitted as his mouth found purchase just beneath the hinge of your jaw.

“Only want to smell like you,” you whimpered, yanking your shirt over your head and tossing it to the dirt. You should have been more concerned—you were still within walking distance of the compound in broad daylight—but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Joel groaned, calloused fingers gripping at you before his hand dipped beneath the fabric of your sports bra. “I’d rip all of them apart again if I had the chance.”

Again. You frantically reached for his belt as he sucked marks up and down your throat, scraping his blunt teeth over the delicate skin. The tease of it sent shivers down your spine, making your stiff fingers fumble with the buckle before opening it. 

There were specs of blood on his canvas coat, you noticed them across his face and hands. It didn’t faze you.

Joel took off his jacket, spreading it out on the dirt before pitching forward, lying you back on the body-warmed fabric. He unbuttoned your worn jeans, yanking them and your panties halfway down your thighs as he pushed your knees to your chest.

“Just as pretty as I remembered,” he murmured, thumb dropping to your clit and rubbing tight circles over it. 

You let out a broken moan, legs twitching in the confines of your jeans. The waistband of your pants dug into your thighs, keeping them from spreading too far apart. “Joel, I need you inside…” you begged, grabbing at his hands desperately.

Normally he took his time with you, opening you up on his fingers and tongue first. You couldn’t care less about it, aching to be connected with him.

He didn’t argue with you, his eyes getting immeasurably darker as he undid his pants. Your mouth watered as he pulled himself out, cunt clenching around nothing as you looped your forearm behind your knees and held them close to your chest. His weathered hand stroked over his hard cock, precome already pooling at the tip.

Joel’s head was spinning, the relief of finding you quickly deteriorating into lust as his free hand slotted over yours on the backs of your knees, bending you in half for him as he rubbed the head of his cock over your swollen clit. He loved the way you whined, your spine arching off his jacket as your lashes fluttered against your cheekbones. If he was a stronger man he’d keep teasing you, let you get slick and soaked and make you beg until you were blue in the face.

But he couldn’t do that to you, not when he was just happy that you were alive.

“Calm down, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp rather than soothing. His calloused thumb stroked over the back of your hand as the blunt head of his cock snagged your entrance.

You both let choked moans into the open air as Joel sank into you, something about the stretch around his thick cock made you feel complete. It left you gasping for breath, your free hand fisting in his jacket beneath you as you watched his eyes squeeze shut. You wanted to reach up and smooth your thumb over the creases between his furrowed brows.

All he could think about was how you were so soaked, pulsing and hot and perfect for him. It took a moment for Joel to come back to himself, his head tilting skyward as he tried to catch his breath. You were moaning with each thrust, the perfect picture of wanton lust as you looked up at him.  

His belt clinked each time it smacked the back of your thigh, neither of you could be bothered to stop long enough for him to pull his pants further down his legs. It added something, the scrape of the coarse denim he wore against your sensitive skin sent electricity prickling up your spine.

Beneath him like this, you felt like you were both everything and nothing at the same time. You were melting, nerves on fire as he mercilessly knocked against your g-spot. A numbness had settled over you for anything that didn’t include Joel. It was easy for you to give into it, any connection between your body and mind vanishing into thin air.

You were so beautiful, needy and insatiable as you took everything Joel gave you. He could smell your slick dripping from your pussy and pooling where your ass met his jacket. The wet squelch of your cunt was heavenly, obscene and loud as your arousal gave your desperation away.

Joel pressed forward, shifting your fabric-confined knees toward your right shoulder as he flattened you beneath the bulk of his body. The air was forced from you as you were squashed beneath his barrel chest, your mewls becoming borderline pathetic. 

Each thrust sent pleasure racing through you, your free hand coming to twist in the salt and pepper curls behind his ear. He’d been letting them grow longer per your request, your desire to spin his curls over your fingers enough to convince him to give in. You relished in it, tugging him into the hollow of your throat. 

“Please, alpha,” you whined, letting yourself slip into a place of submission you spent your whole life suppressing. His teeth were so close, the scratch of his facial hair against your neck enticing as you tilted your head.

He could feel you start to flutter around his cock, your voice taking that pitchy quality it always got when you were close to the edge. It was starting to become one of his favorite sounds in the world. 

“Come for me, baby,” Joel growled into your neck, laving his tongue over your scent gland. He was drooling, all too eager to give in to his instincts and bite you. You probably tasted delicious, sweet and sugary with a tangy aftertaste of blood that stoked a fire in his belly that he was almost too ashamed to acknowledge.

He shoved his hand between your bodies, fingers swirling over your clit. The way your eyes widened made pride thump in his chest. Your sweet little whines threatened to make him come on the spot, his teeth gritting together.

“Alpha,” you whimpered, tears starting to sting at your eyes. You didn’t know submission could feel so good, so natural. It almost made you regret making Joel wait so long for it.

Joel could hear the twinge of emotion in your voice, that drop of anxiety you always carried with you. He fucked into you with renewed vigor, fingertips pressing tight circles to your clit. “I’m here, I’ll always be here, omega,” he promised, the words muffled by the thin skin on your throat. 

Omega.

You came so hard you sobbed, his thrusts became shallow as you clenched around him like a vise. Honey dripped from your mind to your chest, spreading to your extremities as you bucked helplessly against him. It was no use even as your thighs pressed against his abdomen, the weight of him keeping you pinned and contorted for him.

Joel groaned low in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut. Your cunt pulsed around him, tightening and releasing, the mechanics of nature drawing him toward his own release. He could hardly keep his head on straight, grabbing your hip as he pounded into you.

“P-please,” you whined, voice tight and airy. He knew what you wanted, what you were begging for. 

He’d been wanting to give it to you from the moment you showed up at Jackson, ragged and half-starved and the fiercest omega he had ever set eyes on. It felt more like a dream than reality: biting you, making you his.

It seemed only fair, considering just how long he’d been yours.

“B-,” you stammered out, clinging to Joel desperately as you felt his cock start to kick and spit inside you. 

He shushed you, the bridge of his nose pressing into your neck as he shadowed you. His hips snapped against yours, a deep rumble pulling from his chest that melted into a moan as his knot pressed into you, locking him inside as he filled you up with his come.

It was just as he imagined when he bit into your neck, the sweet taste of sugar and devotion filling his mouth as you let out a high-pitched mewl. The aftertaste of your blood was welcomed, sharp and salty as he pulled away to lap at the wound on your throat. Your little whimpers were like music to his ears as he ground his hips against yours, knot pressing the insides of your cunt in a way that made your eyes roll back.

He kept you there for a while, your frenzied coupling becoming something languid. 

The peace he felt mystified him, something he didn’t realize he longed for until he looked down at you, thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones. His omega, with a bloody mark on your scent gland to prove it. 

[aluciahaz]

Sub Adam who had been a brat all day and reader punishes him by edging him and making him beg for forgiveness 🙏🏻

he would try so hard to not give in but once he does it's nothing but sobs and whimpers, begging his mommy to let him cum and to call him a good boy<33

LETS GO!! i have to admit this is super long, sorry!! i feel like my fics keep getting longer and longer cause i just start throwing a shit ton of metaphors for no reason 💀💀 im trying to work on shortening them!!

burns good

—adam x gn!reader (reader’s gender not specified but term mommy is used)

—includes: mommy kink, crying, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

“come on just—stop, ngh! stop fucking with me-EE!” he jolts as you touch his cock again with your feathery touch before writhing against the ropes that bind him to his chair.

it’s been an hour of this. and although his words may be sharp, you can tell he’s losing his edge.

“maybe if you used your manners, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” you spit out, grabbing his face roughly to force him to look up at you, fire still behind his eyes.

you’ll extinguish it soon enough.

“why would i need to? i’m a legend—AH! ha, fuck!” he shouts as a quick slap from your hand stings his inner thigh, making him shiver in pain, but his flushed face shows his true emotions.

“you’re a slut, that’s what you are,” you say with venom, and the shudder through his body showed that your words ran through his veins like fast poison. he gazes up at you in almost awed disbelief, unable to respond with a witty response.

“you love it when i treat you like this, huh? is that why you act out all the time? acting like an asshole just so i can put you in your place? answer me.” you seethe, your fingers digging into his legs until they bruise.

his bites his lip, not wanting to confess the truth. but he can’t lie. not when you’ve got him cornered like this.

“maybe—NGH! fine! okay—yes—i do it on purpose for you to—fuck—to do this shit to me! happy?” he admits, his back arching as you touch his cock once more, teasing adam with the finish line that’s so far away.

“good boy. see? that wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it?” you see his hips try and buck up from his seat and quickly move your hand away, enjoying the pathetic whine of aggravation from him.

“now all you need to do is say it nicer! come on, you can do it,” you say, smirking at his hesitation. but his uncertainty wasn’t due to your patronizing tone, no. he wasn’t collected enough to catch onto that.

it was the subtle praise. the encouragement. he did something right, he’s getting your attention. good attention.

it makes his head swivel in delight, and even though he’s reluctant to follow through with your request—his pride was on the line!—he opens his trembling lips, his shaky voice conveying a lovely message.

“i act out so you…you can punish me, and—hnn—so you can drive me crazy, i—i…” he takes in a deep breath as you watch him intently, smiling at his confession. it only spurs him on more.

“i need it, please—mommy, please!” he begs weakly, yet his eyes scream for your help. they shine with tears from overstimulation, but what’s more noticeable is the pitiful desperation in his look that overrides his crying.

you can’t help but want more. he was pretty rude this week.

“please what? use your words, baby,” you coo, watching him battle between his ego and desires. his small whimpers as he tried to figure out what to do were adorable, but soon, he looks straight up at you, the victor clear.

“please let me cum!” he begs, his voice crawling into a high-pitched whine. it’s desperate, it’s sweet, and it only makes you want to play with him more.

“oh, but…baby, you don’t deserve it.”

those words were enough to make him wail and shake in his seat, but the feeling of your breath right against his ear and your harsh punishment sent him flying into a true spiral of delirium.

“nononono PLEASE! i’ll be good i’ll—hic—be…” his arms push against the binds frantically, trying to break out of them to just do something. anything.

for a few seconds.

“AH! hm—ngh! fuckfuck—!” adam’s voice is almost non-existent with half of his words filled with the raspiness of pain and the airiness from unrequited yearnings as another lash runs against his leg, red blooming on his skin.

god, he wanted you so bad. he wanted you to touch him, to make him feel special, to just let him cum after what seems like decades. he needed you to help him because even without these ropes, he knew he would never be fully satisfied without your hands on his skin.

but he had to serve penance for his actions. no matter how sweet he wailed, no matter how much he writhed, he had broken a covenant of sorts between him and you. and he had to learn that yes, his unruliness will not be tolerated, even if he begs—

sorry is not enough.

so you keep getting him close to the gates of heaven, only for him to fall back down from seeing stars. each time, he would cry without fail, and each time, his attitude would crumble.

now, there is no hesitation when he pleads for mercy, there is no question as to whether he should follow what you say, and there are no thoughts of defiance corrupting his mind. he was as unchastely pure as one could be, following every sinful demand you say.

you call him all sorts of things. slut, whore, pathetic, giving him whiplash from how kind you were earlier. it makes him cry earnestly, just wanting any semblance of praise to feed off of; to taste the sweetness of love that danced between your words

“i need it—hic—i—please, please be nice to me! m-mommy, mm! i’m so sorry! imsosorryplease, i’ll be a good boy—please, stop being so mean!” he sobs, shaking in his chair as you refrain from giving him what he wants.

adam’s voice quivers, and his breath hastens. his eyes are lidded like he’s inebriated, and he is. he’s drunk off of your words, your demeaning, cruel, vicious words, and they only motivate him more to beg for your forgiveness like a sinner at church.

when you speak again, he feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest, the thorns of your piercing words completely burning away with the warmth of your blessing.

“you’ve been so nice to me for quite some time. perhaps you can be good after all,” you observe with a hum, watching his eyes sparkle with excitement.

“yes—yes i can!” he says frantically, trying to persuade you to do something more. to let his head soar into the clouds and get dizzy from the height.

there was a brief moment of pause as you pondered if you should give in to his pleas, but considering it has been a while, you don’t mind handing him a brief blessing. one that will slowly grow further and further, his brain distorted by the constant pleasure that you put upon him. until he cries and says he can’t cum anymore, and the overstimulation was making everything feel too much.

too good. too perfect. perhaps heaven was overrated when things like this existed. when you existed with your perfect hands running over his body, kissing his neck with delicacy and following it up with bites filled with carnal pleasure.

it was a thought that’s crossed his mind plenty of times. well, when he’s able to think. as you let him cum, your fingers now around his cock as he thrashes in his ropes, screaming and wailing as you keep moving your hand, his legs trembling as you ruin him so well.

“w-wait! wait too much—ngh—fuck! mommy, please!” he squeaks, his whole body shuddering with his sobs as he tries to collect himself somehow, but he can’t fight this sensory overload. not even with the experience of being the first man.

there’s a certain feeling burning inside of him. like a flame that was comfortably warm, yet was flickering too high out of the fireplace, signaling danger. but he can’t stop getting closer, even if it melts his ability to think in the process. the burn of lust was just too good.

he didn’t even try to fight the fire, not even caring about his appearance as he begs for you to both stop and keep going, unsure of which poison to drink from.

yet, as he was engulfed in the divine flames of your sinful blessing, he couldn’t help but feel a bit happy as he sniveled, his tears glistening against his skin. you were giving him so much attention. it didn’t matter that the pleasure was intertwined with pain, it was just a more direct sign that you had all your focus on him, and that’s all he ever wanted.

“ngh..i can’t—i c..can’t…” he says weakly, his voice practically fading into nothingness. at some point, his position changed to him lying down on the bed, still completely tied from limb to limb. but you thought that after cumming for the third time, he deserved a more comfortable environment for the rest of the night in order to soften the cruelty of your hands.

and although his voice is cracking at the seams, and his body is at your complete mercy, the mere action of you having him moved to the bed made his heart swell. it was that slight affection that made the sting on his thighs feel so nice, the almost overbearing heat of your body over his feel so loving.

“you’re doing so well. come on, just one more for me, baby,” those words were the sweetest things in the world. it made every red mark and each brutal remark worth it.

“mmn…okay—AH! mommy!” he keened, weeping as his legs jolted up just barely, too weak to even react properly as your fingers delved inside of him, quickly finding the spot that made him shiver all over.

“so—so much! i feel—i can’t—!” his eyes shut tightly as he cries, unable to put his thoughts into words. but you’ve been here time and time before, his words aren’t necessary to understand what he’s thinking.

he begs with his tears, says ‘i love you’ with the arch in his back, and screams that he wants to cum against all odds with the dazed look on his face, his eyes slowly opening to show a man who’s lost the inability to speak with words, but fluent in the language of bliss.

as he cums with a silent scream, barely anything coming out of his used cock, you watch as his eyes run to the back of his head. you watch how his whole body stiffens in a single moment before becoming limp, pleading for you to take care of it.

you can’t help but oblige, gently removing the ropes that bind him, kissing each angry imprint of love on his body, and whispering words of well-earned praise to your angel.

adam can’t cry anymore, yet if he could, he would, as being overwhelmed with love and care was just as intense as drowning in lust and desire.

he feels so vulnerable, yet he enjoys it wholeheartedly. it allowed him to get pampered like some sort of royalty. perhaps he should start doing this more just to get treated like this.

but when he suggests for you to call him ‘king’ the next day you put him back in his place, rolling your eyes in annoyance. he never learns, but he doesn’t want to. your lessons felt so good after all. why would he want them to stop?

tags: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @mvskedxrtist @drlucichen @luciferspetduck

[meazalykov]

dance moms

laura freigang x dancer!reader

summary: after moving back to germany, to escape the chaos you've suffered in the states, you meet a photographer (who happens to be a footballer as well.)

a/n: if you don't know what the american reality show "dance moms" is, I'd do some basic research in order to understand the first part of this fic <3

growing up at the ALDC felt like being in a pressure cooker. 

you were only two years old when your mom, isla, moved the both of you from germany to pennsylvania in the united states. 

she put you in dance classes as soon as she could. at first, it was exciting—you loved the way your body could express emotions through movement. you loved gaining flexibility and having a routine. you loved performing and getting to put on pretty costumes. but that changed the moment dance moms came into the picture.

at just eleven years old, you were pulled into the chaotic world of reality TV. cameras followed your every move, every mistake. 

abby lee miller’s constant critiques weighed you down, her screaming echoing in your head long after rehearsals ended. she changed since the cameras started filming her. 

“you’ll never be good enough if you don’t push harder, y/n!” she’d shout during practice, her words biting deep into your skin like needles.

there were moments where you had solos. those were the dances you loved the most. you always scored very well and got on top of the pyramid whenever maddie wasn’t. 

sometime during season four, there was a significant moment that didn’t leave your mind for a while. 

you stood in the wings at a competition in san diego, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath after your solo. the adrenaline rushed through your veins, but it was dulled by the sinking feeling in your stomach. 

you’d stumbled on one of your turns—something that wasn’t like you at all. but it was there, clear as day, right in front of the judges and the audience. and now, you were about to face abby.

as soon as they announced the results, you knew it wasn’t going to be good. 

second place. you’d lost to maddie. again. but what made it worse was that you weren’t just up against anyone—this was a week where you were up against the candy apples. abby’s biggest rivals. 

this meant that her mood was already sour, and you knew this was going to tip her over the edge.

the second you stepped into the dressing rooms, abby’s gaze was already locked on you, her face a storm of frustration and anger. 

she didn’t even wait for everyone to sit down before coming at you.

“second place?” abby barked, her voice sharp as a whip. “second place, y/n? you know that’s not acceptable. not here!” 

you flinched but kept your head down, your heart racing. you wanted to explain—to say that the stumble was a mistake, something you couldn’t control—but you knew it wouldn’t matter. not to abby.

“what happened out there?” she demanded, sitting down in her chair, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. 

“you stumbled on a turn, y/n. a turn! something you should be perfect at by now.”

you swallowed hard, your throat dry. “i know, abby. i’m sorry. i—i just—”

“sorry isn’t good enough,” abby cut you off, her voice dripping with disappointment. “you don’t get to be sorry when you’re given this great opportunity! maddie would’ve never done that and her first place showed that!” 

the mention of maddie stung more than anything. it always felt like you were in her shadow, no matter how hard you worked. no matter how much you tried to prove yourself. 

abby’s golden girl could do no wrong, and you were left picking up the pieces when you didn’t measure up.

“you’re better than that,” abby continued, pacing back and forth in front of you. 

“you’re one of my best dancers, but today? you danced like an amateur. you embarrassed me, y/n. you embarrassed this entire team.”

her words hit you like a slap, and you felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. you didn’t want to cry—not in front of abby, not in front of the other girls—but it was hard to hold it in.

“abby, i’m—”

“don’t say you’re sorry again,” she snapped, her voice rising. 

“i don’t want to hear it. i want you to do better. no more mistakes, no more excuses. if you want to be a star, you need to act like one. and today, you didn’t.”

you stood there, frozen, trying to keep your emotions in check as abby continued to berate you. 

it felt like the weight of the world was crushing you, and all you wanted was for the ground to swallow you whole.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, abby huffed and shook her head. “go. i don’t want to look at you right now.”

with those final words, you turned and walked away to get ready for the group dance, your body feeling heavier with every step. 

backstage before the group, you caught maddie’s eye, and she gave you a small, sympathetic smile. but it didn’t make you feel any better. nothing could right now.

you wanted to scream, to cry, to ask your mom why she let you stay in this mess, why she let abby tear you down like this. 

your mom stood by you and seemed like your biggest supporter. but as the years passed and you became a fixture on the show, you started to wonder why she allowed it. 

why she let abby break you down, week after week. 

“mom, why do we keep doing this?” you asked one evening after a particularly brutal competition weekend. 

“why do you let her treat me like this?” 

“it’s for your future, y/n,” isla had said, eyes clouded with hope—or maybe guilt. 

“you’re going to be a star.”

but that wasn’t how you felt. you didn’t want to be a star anymore. 

after six seasons on dance moms, you were burnt out. drained. you’d lost your passion for dance, the thing that once gave you joy now filled with dread. 

when you turned sixteen, you’d had enough. 

“i can’t do this anymore,” you told your mom one night after another exhausting filming day. “i want out.”

isla had hesitated, but eventually, the both of you left the show. the cameras stopped rolling, but the damage had already been done. 

the chaos, the constant pressure to be perfect—it stripped you of any love you had for dancing. you couldn’t even look at a dance studio without feeling a knot form in your stomach. 

you grew distant from your mom too. it was hard to understand why she had put you through it. 

“why didn’t you just protect me?” you’d whispered one evening, tears filling your eyes. but isla didn’t have an answer that made sense.

by the time you turned 19 in 2019, you were desperate for a fresh start. you packed your things and moved back to frankfurt germany, your birthplace. 

germany felt different—calmer, quieter. your mother didn’t come back with you which relieved you.

it was exactly what you needed. 

over the next few years, you dove into therapy, trying to unpack the trauma of your childhood. it was slow, difficult work, but through it, you discovered a few other hobbies like photography, and ceramics. you went to university too.

and then, suddenly, almost unexpectedly, dance found its way back to you. 

therapy helped you see it differently—no longer as something tied to pain, but as something that had once been yours. something beautiful. 

by 2022, you were back in the studio, dancing again, feeling lighter than you had in years.

you built your own studio in a nice neighborhood in frankfurt. you weren’t a dance instructor now, maybe someday, but you used the space to practice or hire (emotionally available) dance instructors to help you.

one afternoon, while you were in the middle of a lyrical practice, your friend macy and her sister, sara, showed up at your studio.

the three of you had become close since you moved back to germany. 

macy went to your university before you both graduated. she had nice tan skin and long raven colored hair. 

her older sister sara is a footballer who plays for frankfurt frauen. sara was like an older sister to you, while macy was your confidant. 

“y/n, you’ve gotta hear this,” macy said, leaning against the doorframe with a grin.

you wiped sweat from your forehead, raising an eyebrow. “what now?”

“sara’s photographer friend wants to take pictures of you, specifically, for her portfolio, she’s been keeping up with your instagram content!” macy explained. sara nodded in agreement.

“you know, someone who can capture those insane moves of yours,” sara chimed in with a laugh.

you hesitated for a moment, but to your own surprise, you agreed. “okay, sure. why not?”

both macy and sara looked shocked. 

“wow, that was easier than i thought it would be,” macy said, her eyes wide.

“yeah, thought we’d have to convince you a little more,” sara added with a chuckle.

two days later, you found yourself at a field location, waiting for the photographer. 

the sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow over the area, when you saw her—laura freigang. 

she was taller than you expected, with an easy smile and a camera slung over her shoulder. you couldn’t help but notice how attractive she was, and you made a mental note to ask sara about her later.

“you must be y/n, i’m laura” laura said, walking up to you.

“that’s me,” you replied, feeling a little flustered as her eyes met yours. 

the shoot started, and laura was immediately in her element, capturing your movements with film. she had a way of making you feel comfortable, encouraging you to move naturally. 

“that’s perfect, just like that,” she’d say, her voice soft but confident. the tone of her voice made you feel a certain type of way as well.

you danced freely, twirling and leaping in the open field, and every now and then, you’d catch her smiling at you from behind the camera. 

there was one moment where laura calls you out for something, 

“where are you from in america?” laura asked. 

this was during a water break after shooting yourself doing high kicks and pirouettes.

“i was born here, but i lived in pennsylvania after i turned two. for a while i lived in california but that was until 3 years ago, when i moved back here.” you swallowed, thinking about the distant memories of your childhood. 

“pennsylvania! i went to penn state for a while!” laura says, surprised. 

“that is so cool!”

afterwards, there was definitely some flirting going on—small comments, lingering looks. after the shoot wrapped up, laura lowered her camera, looking at you with a playful glint in her eyes. 

“you know, this was fun. thank you for doing this for me. we should do it again sometime… maybe over dinner?”

you blinked, caught off guard but quickly recovering. 

“are you asking me out on a date, laura freigang?”

she smirked. “i guess i am.”

you smiled. “okay, i’m in.”

two days later, you were sitting across from her at a cozy restaurant, the low hum of conversation filling the air. 

the two of you clicked instantly, talking about everything from the shoot to your different interests. halfway through the meal, you said something which confuses laura. 

“do you have other hobbies beside photography? you seem like a pretty busy woman.” you smirk. 

“i’m sorry?” laura’s eyebrows raise. 

your eyes widen, afraid that you said something that is offensive.

“wait i’m sorry– its just sara tells me that you’re a photographer so i wondered if you do other things. do you go to another uni here after you left penn state or if you do modeling or–” you pause as laura giggles. 

“i’m flattered that you think i am a model– but i play for frankfurt and the german national team with sara...”

your eyes widened in surprise. how did sara not tell you this? she just made it seem like laura was just a photographer in frankfurt.

“wait, seriously? you’re a footballer and a photographer?”

laura grinned. “yeah. i like to keep busy.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, feeling more flustered than you’d like to admit. 

“that’s... really impressive,” you said, feeling a little shy under her gaze.

as time passed, you started going to laura’s games, cheering her on from the stands. 

your bond deepened with every date, every conversation, until one day, laura asked you to be her girlfriend inside of her living room.

the soft glow of the floor lamp laura has casting a warm light over her space. you sat on her couch, legs curled under you, a half-empty cup of tea resting on the table in front of you. 

you’d spent the evening like this, just talking, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company. but now, a comfortable silence had settled between you, the kind that felt intimate without needing to be filled.

laura sat beside you, her arm resting along the back of the couch. you could feel the warmth of her presence next to you, and every so often, your hands would brush when one of you reached for something or shifted in your seat. 

each touch sent a small spark of electricity through you, a reminder of the feelings you’d been harboring for her since that photoshoot months ago.

“you’ve been quiet for a bit,” you finally said, glancing over at her, noticing the way her jaw clenched slightly, like she was trying to find the right words.

she looked at you, her eyes soft but searching. “yeah, i’ve just… been thinking,” she said quietly, her voice low and a little hesitant.

“thinking?” you asked, your heartbeat quickening just a little. you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on behind those light colored eyes of hers. “about what?”

she took a deep breath, turning her body slightly toward you. the air in the room shifted, something heavier settling between the two of you. “about you,” she said, her voice steady now, like she had finally made up her mind about what she wanted to say.

your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your chest tighten. "me?" you asked softly, not sure where this was going, but the intensity in laura's gaze was undeniable.

“yeah, you,” she repeated, her eyes not leaving yours. 

“we’ve spent a lot of time together these past few months, nearly everyday, and i’ve really gotten to know you. i didn’t expect to feel this way when i first met you at that shoot, but,” she trailed off, her hand moving to gently take yours, her thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “i can’t stop thinking about you.”

your heart raced as she spoke, her words settling in the space between you like a confession you’d been secretly waiting for but never expected to hear. 

“laura…” you started, but the words caught in your throat, your emotions tangled up in the moment.

“i know this might be a lot,” she said, her grip on your hand tightening just slightly, “but i really like you, y/n. i don’t want to keep dancing around it anymore.” she paused, her eyes softening as she looked at you, her vulnerability laid bare. 

you both giggled at her pun before she spoke, 

“can i be your girlfriend?”

“what wait?” you were surprised. 

“will you be my girlfriend!?”

for a moment, you couldn’t speak. your mind raced with thoughts of every moment you’d shared, the way she made you feel without even trying, the way her presence made the world seem quieter, more bearable. 

you’d known this was going to happen someday, but hearing her say it out loud made it all feel more real than you’d imagined.

“yes,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. but the word hung in the air like a promise, and the smile that broke across laura’s face made your heart feel like it might burst. “yes, i’d love to.”

her smile widened, and she leaned in, her forehead resting against yours for a moment, the closeness of her sending a shiver down your spine. 

"yay," she murmured softly, her breath warm against your skin.

your fingers intertwined with hers, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to let go of the fears, the doubts, the baggage from your past. 

in that moment, it was just you and laura, your hearts laid bare, and the quiet understanding that something beautiful was beginning between the two of you.

you chuckled softly, pulling back just enough to look at laura fully. “how about i cook for you? tomorrow night?” you suggested, your eyes sparkling with excitement. 

"i’m pretty good in the kitchen."

laura raised an eyebrow, smirking. "oh really? a dancer, a university graduate, and a chef? you're just full of surprises."

you grinned, leaning in closer, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “you’ll have to find out for yourself.” 

and as she pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand, you couldn’t help but feel like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

it didn’t take long for fan pages to catch on. suddenly, everyone was talking about how one of their favorite childhood dancers was now dating a german footballer. 

fans were floored and happy for you-- but to you, it was surreal in the best way. 

as you sat next to laura after one of her games, her hand wrapped around yours, you couldn’t help but think that despite everything—despite the chaos of your past—you’d finally found happiness. 

my masterlist is here if you want to read more!

a/n: wrote this two months ago but i wasn’t sure if i liked the writing and the concept😭 ill still post it anyways

[moonstruckme]

I would love something similar to the attending dr Remus story but maybe with ceo!sirius? All of his employees see him as a ruthless business man and are scared of him and maybe reader shows up to have lunch with him and she’s been crying or upset about something and Sirius just melts into a little puddle in front of everyone trying to comfort her 🥲🥲

Thanks for requesting!

ceo!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

You swear, Sirius’ office has to be soundproofed. You hadn’t heard a thing on the way over, anticipating him to be quietly working at his desk, but when you go inside he’s standing behind it, all but shouting into the empty room. 

“I’m looking at the numbers right here.” Sirius has his hands braced on the varnished wood, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he jabs one finger into the stack of papers in front of him as if for emphasis. “Do you have any idea—”

At the sound of the door opening and your quiet oh, he looks up. The severity melts from his expression, replaced by a familiar smile. “Hi, sunshine.” His voice seems to have melted too, the bark you’d heard when you’d come in replaced by something soft and crooning. “Lunchtime already?” 

“Sorry,” you say, hand inching back towards the door handle. “Len said I could come right in, I didn’t—”

“No, I told him to tell you that,” Sirius waves you forward, coming around his desk to kiss you hello. “I never want to keep you waiting, I…hey.” His brows furrow as he moves closer. “Hey, baby, is something wrong?” 

You blink. “No.” It comes out sounding like a question. 

Sirius palms your face. You lean into the touch instinctively, but then he thumbs at something on your cheek. “You’ve been crying,” he murmurs. 

Shit. You’d forgotten to clean yourself up. Have you been walking around with mascara tracks down your face all day? No wonder Len had looked at you the way he had. 

“Oh, that’s from earlier,” you say as breezily as you can. “I’m good now.”

But Sirius isn’t having it. He frowns, taking your face in both hands and inspecting you carefully. “What happened?” 

You try to shrug, but it feels futile and pathetic when he’s looking at you like that. “I got yelled at by some guy on the way to work.” 

“What?” he asks, dismayed. His hands slide down your shoulders to take your hands, guiding you to his seat. “Who yelled at you?” 

“It was—I don’t know, just some guy.” Tears press at the base of your throat, but you refuse to let them loose. It was a silly thing to begin with, and you’ve cried enough about it. “I was driving, coming up to a light, and I—okay, I know I was in the wrong, because I wasn’t paying enough attention, and I stopped right in front of a parking lot.” You cast your eyes down, chewing your lip. Sirius crouches by the chair so he can see your face. Clever maneuvering, but you suppose he didn’t get to where he is by poor planning. “I should have left a space for them to turn while the rest of us waited at the light, you know? But I just wasn’t thinking, and then I couldn’t back up, because there were people behind me, and this guy—” You swallow. Sirius rubs your knee, the crease between his brows deepening. “This guy got out of his car and came up to my window and was, like, screaming at me about what an idiot I was.” 

Sirius has got one hand on each of your knees by now, his perfectly pressed trousers wrinkling from his crouch. He looks up at you, indignation and upset warring in his eyes. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s awful. Fuck, I’d be crying too. Everyone messes up that stuff sometimes, who gave that prat the right to yell at you about it?” 

You shrug again, biting your lip to keep it from wobbling. Sirius can tell, and he coos, rising enough to needle his arms under yours. “C’mere, baby.” 

You accept the invitation eagerly, pressing your face into his collar and inhaling the faint musk of his cologne. He scrubs a firm hand back and forth between your shoulder blades. A few seconds of silence pass before the phone on his desk crackles to life. 

“Uh, sir?” 

You jolt away from him as if you’ve been caught, but Sirius doesn’t seem all that phased. 

“Yeah, that’ll be all for now,” he says insouciantly. “We’ll have to pick this back up later this afternoon.” 

“You’re on a call?” you accuse. 

“S’just a conference call, sweet thing. Ran a bit long.” 

A conference call?

“What time did you want to reconvene?” a different voice asks tentatively. You cover your face with your hands. They feel cool against the burning heat of your skin. 

Sirius rubs your shoulder lightly. “Say, four? And John, take a closer look at those numbers. You could save us all a lot of time by seeing sense.” 

“Yessir,” another voice—John, you assume—says. “And, erm, very sorry about your incident, miss. Sure the other bloke was just having an off day.” 

“Thanks,” you squeak, but Sirius says over you, “Mind your goddamn business, John,” and hits a button to hang up the phone. 

“Sirius,” you say miserably after making sure to check that the light on the phone is no longer on. “How could you not tell me you were on a call?” 

“Excuse me, I had other priorities at the moment,” he argues, taking your wrists and prying your hands from your face. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You’ve no reason to be embarrassed.” 

“I complained about my road rage incident on your conference call!”

“It was a call full of accountants, love. You’ve probably just reminded them they’re alive.” 

You give him a look. “I’m very cross with you.” 

Sirius smiles. “Rats, if only there were a way for me to make it up to you.” He stands, grabbing a paper bag you hadn’t noticed from beside his desk. “Would my favorite girl’s favorite sandwich from her favorite sandwich shop be a good place to start?” 

“That is a lot of favorites,” you allow, but the words don’t quite process until he pulls a wrapped sandwich out from the bag. You gasp, reaching for it. “Oh my god, how long did you have to wait in line for this?”

“I didn’t,” he says, somewhat sheepish. “Len waited over an hour, though.” 

“You owe him a raise,” you say sternly, but accept the peace offering, peeling off the wrapping. 

Sirius laughs when you bite into your sandwich and moan. “Damn, baby, you’ve never made sounds like that for me.” 

“It’s a different kind of love,” you say through a mouthful. 

“Enough to make your shit day a bit better?” 

You slow in your chewing to give him a soft look. “More than enough. Thanks, Siri.” 

“You’re welcome.” He gives you a saccharine smile, leaning forward for a kiss, but you dodge him. 

“Wait, m’chewing!”

“And?” He takes your face in both hands, holding you captive as he pecks you firmly on the lips. “There. Waited way too long for that.”

[writingforstraykids]

You always come first

Pairing: Minchan

Word Count: 2007

Summary: Worrying Chan is by far one of the things Minho hates most. So when he hurts himself during practice one day, he'd rather die than tell his boyfriend. His body isn't quite happy with his choice, forcing him to open up at some point...

Warnings/Tags: angst, hurt!comfort, fluff, injury (ankle), stubborn!min, worried!chan, short argument

There isn't much Minho hates more than worrying his boyfriend. Chan, the caring soul he is, was always worried about something. Minho knows how much weight he's carrying around so why would he add to it? He's not good with hiding around him though. 

Minho used to be the master of hiding his pain, his worries, his deepest fears. That's until he met Chan. Those puppy eyes meeting his, strong arms wrapping around him and soft voice surrounding him did things to him he can't describe. If there had been a button to push to make Min open up, Chan would have been the one who found it. And as much as he loves him, Minho hates that. 

He hates that he can't hide from him, not because he doesn't want to open up or doesn't trust his love, but simply because he despises worrying his sweet boy. The way his face falls seeing him in pain or upset, eyes growing dark and wet with worry. The furrow between his brows, the way he speaks so softly Minho isn't sure if Chan will start crying with him any second. Fuck, he hates getting hurt. 

So of course, he doesn't say a word as he trips, practicing the kick for S-Class, hurting his ankle in the process. Minho bites the back of his hand, holding back a scream as he carefully puts his foot back on the floor. This couldn't be happening. He gives himself a few minutes before carefully taking a few steps forward. It hurts like hell but he'll manage. Limping his way to Chan's studio is taking a bigger toll on him than he thought, sweat forming on his forehead. He braces himself at the door, taking deep breaths and puts on a smile as he eventually opens the door. 

Chan doesn't look from his laptop but knows it's him. “Hey, baby? Ready to go home?”

“Yeah, more than ready,” he says, subtly limping his way over to him and bracing himself on his chair. “Still need some time?” he asks gently and Chan hums in response. 

“Like five minutes?” he asks, glancing up at him apologetically. 

“Let's be realistic and say ten, hm?” he suggests, soothingly running his hand through his lover's hair at the worry clouding his eyes. “I'll just wait back there, yeah?”

Chan scoots back with his chair, patting his lap. “Come here? I missed you,” he tells him. 

Minho smiles softly, lowering himself into his lovers lap and raises his eyebrows at him. “My sweet love, it's been an hour since we've last seen each other.”

“Mhm, 60 minutes too much, if you ask me,” he says, making him laugh. 

Minho kisses his forehead lovingly. “Get done with it, love. I need a shower.”

Chan chuckles softly, getting back to work. It's quiet in the room besides the occasional soft clicks of Chan's keyboard. He mindlessly rubs his lower back, smiling as Minho rests his head against his shoulder. 

Minho squints his eyes together as he testingly moves his foot in tiny circles. Okay, not a good idea. Chan wraps up eventually, locks the door and takes Minho's hand. Minho struggles keeping up with him, trying to hide how agonizing every step he takes feels. 

“You're okay? You're walking so slow,” Chan teases him as they reach the elevator. 

“Just really tired,” he tells him with a weak smile. 

Chan frowns softly, brushing his hair back for him. “Why didn't you say so? We could've left earlier,” he says and at Minho's tired shrug he picks him up. 

“Hyungie,” he protests softly, just once more indicating something's wrong. He rarely calls him hyung anymore. “Your back, love, you have to be careful.”

“Min, it's been two months. I'm all good now,” he giggles and gently adjusts Minho's weight as he steps out of the elevator. 

Minho doesn't dare to complain, not wanting to risk revealing how much he's hurting right now. Not having to walk sure helps a little. 

Chan cuddles him close in the backseat of the car, soothingly fondling his head. “Sadly we can't sleep in tomorrow.”

“Yeah, just another long day,” Minho nods, mindlessly rubbing Chan's knee. Shit, that means there's no time to visit their doctor before practice. Especially not in secret. 

Under the shower he realizes the gravity of the situation as his ankle is already swollen and starting to look bruised. Tears of frustration well up in his eyes as reality slowly settles in. There's no chance he could perform in three days. Not with their new intense choreos. There's no way Chan wouldn't notice. Fuck. 

He drags himself to bed, biting back a groan as Chan shuffles in a little later. “Cuddles?” he guesses and Chan nods, almost timidly. 

“Sorry, I can't sleep. There's too much going through my head,” he says and Minho lifts the blanket in response. Chan slips inside next to him, turning onto his side and smiles at him weakly. 

“Go on, let it all out,” Minho encourages him, growing gentle at the worry lacing his boyfriend's face. 

“I just feel like we still have so much to do but so little time. Like, we still had so many missteps today during practice. I still have to finish another two songs and then there's the interview coming up,” Chan rambles on, finding comfort in Minho's understanding dark coffee eyes. 

“Chan?” Minho asks gently. 

“I'm so nervous something will go wrong at the last minute, you know?” he asks timidly, before shaking his head. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Minho opens his mouth and closes it again. He can't. He physically can't tell him. “I love you,” he says instead. “I love you and it'll be okay.”

“Okay,” Chan exhales softly, features relaxing a little. “I love you too, Min. I don't know how I'd manage without you.”

“I'm here,” he promises, swallowing down his guilt. No, there is no use in telling him. Chan deserves a few hours of rest. He watches him fall asleep in his arms after a while and mindlessly plays with his hair. His ankle is pulsing with hot flashes of pain and he carefully adjusts his leg, trying to get more comfortable. After what feels like hours he finally falls asleep. 

-

“Alright, let's do LALALALA and then we're done,” Chan announces and Minho bites back a groan. 

“You're sure? Maybe we should take a break,” Minho suggests. Sweat is slowly forming on his forehead, his ankle is practically screaming for help at this point. “Look at them,” he tries but Chan shakes his head.

“Just that one, then we're done for the day, baby. Then we can all go home,” he says and Minho gives in reluctantly. 

They get into position and the music starts blasting through the room. Minho winces softly at the many little jumps and stomps he has to deliver. His stomach tightens in pain and even though his vision gets blurry he tells himself to pull through. But his body thinks differently and a sudden intense wave of sickness crashes over him. He covers his mouth with his hand in shock, stumbling to the closest bin and throwing up. It only takes a few seconds and he can feel Chan next to him, hesitantly rubbing his back. Minho braces himself at the wall weakly, trying to take off the weight from his ankle, as he coughs helplessly. 

They only turn off the music once he's done and he's grateful for the tiniest bit of decency they offered him. He sits down weakly at the bench nearby and buries his face in his hands with a frustrated groan. 

“Hyung, what's going on?” Felix asks worriedly. 

“Nothing, I just -,” he breaks off meeting his boyfriend's eyes, brimming with tears. “Channie, love,” he says worriedly. “Hey, honey, it's not that bad, I promise,” he tells him. 

“I'm sorry,” Chan says weakly. “You asked for a break, I should've known.”

Minho shakes his head and reaches out for him. “No, come here,” he tries again. 

Changbin quietly gathers the rest to give them some space and Chan moves once they're gone. 

“Why didn't you tell me you were feeling sick?” Chan asks timidly. “Was that why you were so tired yesterday?” 

“I'm not sick,” Minho admits lowly. 

“What? Min, you just threw up in the-.”

“Channie, I'm being stupid. I'm not sick, I swear,” he tells him and Chan blinks at him confused. “And it's also not your fault, love. I shouldn't have done anything today,” he confesses. 

“Are you…Baby, did you get hurt?” Chan asks worriedly and Minho closes his eyes in defeat. “Where?” he asks. 

“Please don't be mad,” Minho says quietly before carefully slipping out of his sneaker. He pulls down his sock a little and anxiously watches Chan take in the sight. 

“Minho.”

“Chan, please.” Minho shakes his head. “Don't.”

“You're such an idiot sometimes,” Chan snaps, surprising them both. 

“I know,” Minho nods, but it still hurts hearing it from Chan. 

“Why wouldn't you tell me? Why do you keep pushing yourself when you're hurt until you can't go on anymore?” he continues, getting up and pacing a small area in front of him. “And why am I still so dumb and believe you?”

“Love,” he tries weakly. 

“No, fuck that right now,” he says firmly and Minho shuts up quickly. “I swear you're driving me insane sometimes,” he says before leaving the room, slamming the door. 

“Wow, thanks,” he sniffles to himself, frustration and pain taking over. “I know that was stupid, that's no reason to leave me here,” he huffs, stubbornly wiping a tear off his cheek. He slips back into his sneaker with a hiss, biting his lower lip hard at the pain shooting through his body. He pushes himself up, yelping in pain as his foot meets the ground. More tears shoot to his eyes and he weakly holds himself up against the wall. 

“Sit down, please,” Chan says, suddenly back in the room. 

“No, fuck you,” Minho bursts out. “I want someone to check this and then I'll drag myself home,” he sniffles. 

“I said sit down, Minho,” Chan speaks firmly and Minho does, not without glaring at him through tears. Chan carefully takes off his shoe again, pulling down his sock again to inspect the damage. “I'm sorry, Min. I shouldn't have snapped,” he says, carefully holding a bag of ice he found in the fridge to his ankle. “I'm just worried about you and it's pissing me off when you start hiding things.”

“Well, I didn't want you to worry,” Minho groans. “You worry too much already, you don't need my bullshit as well.”

“Your bullshit is my bullshit. Always has been, always will. You don't hide from me when you're hurt, you hear me?” he asks, meeting his eyes for the first time since he's back. “I want to trust you, Minho. You have to be honest with me for that.”

Minho chews on his lower lip nervously before giving in with a gentle nod. “Okay.”

“Seeing you throw up in the middle of practice is concerning me much more than your ankle,” he tells him, sighing softly. “How did it happen?”

“I was practicing that kick yesterday and tripped. It's my own fault, I should've stopped once I got tired,” he explains, timidly searching his eyes. “You're still mad at me?”

“No,” Chan sighs. “But we're seeing a doctor, now.”

“Alright,” Minho nods, accepting the bottle of water Chan offers him. “I promise, I'll get better with this.”

“Shh, drink up. We'll talk about this another time, yeah?” he asks gently. “My reckless kitten…”

Minho gently shoves his shoulder. “Stop it, you overprotective lapdog.”

“You better be quiet now,” Chan laughs, picking him up. “Let's get you checked.”

Minho hums gently, hugging him close. “I'm sorry for worrying you, love.”

“Don't be,” Chan says gently, kissing his cheek. “You always come first, yeah?”

“Okay,” Minho smiles sweetly, squeezing him. He should really start telling him sooner; it would benefit them both. 

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@zehina @atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @sapphirewaves @dis-trict9 @aeinzzzketchup

[daisyblog]

Small Bump

Young Love Masterlist Summary: Louis and YN share the news that they’re having another baby with the boys.

Based on this request.

The boys first show back after their little break in between tour legs was in Cardiff, and Louis and YN were trying to keep their baby news to themselves for a little longer until they had their scan and knew everything was okay.

But unlike her first pregnancy with Mia, YN was feeling the symptoms. Every morning she would wake and have to run to the bathroom, hoping she would make it to the toilet in time, thanks to the morning sickness. But the name made no sense because it didn’t just happen in the morning, certain smells would cause her to heave and the night time was just as bad.

Before Louis had to head off to soundcheck, ahead of their first Cardiff show, he was sat rubbing YN’s back and moving her hair out of the way as she was being sick.

“I’m sorry you’re going through this”. Louis sympathised as his hand continued to rub circles on her back.

YN took a sip from her water bottle, trying to get the taste from her mouth. “S’not your fault…just part of being pregnant”.

Louis noticed YN’s tired eyes, the darkness that sat under them were screaming for sleep. “I’m gonna take Mia with me to soundcheck…you go rest and have some sleep before tonight”. YN went to argue but Louis stopped her. “No ifs or buts…Lottie can watch Mia whilst we’re rehearsing.”

YN didn’t put up the fight and decided to listen and get some rest. While YN got into bed and peacefully fell asleep, Louis took Mia with him to the stadium.

It was very rare not to see YN and Mia tottering behind Louis at the venues, but Liam was quick to notice that YN was missing.

“Where’s YN?”. His eyebrows frowned. His question causing Niall and Harry to look around too.

“She’s didn’t sleep very well…so she’s still at the hotel”. Louis tried to keep his answer short and sweet, afraid their secret may slip from his lips.

Mia came running down the corridor with Lottie right behind her. “Uncle ‘arry!”. She ran straight into Harry’s open arms. “Auntie Lottie did me ‘air…look”. The younger child showed off her French plaits that were nearly done.

“Wow! You look so cool!”. Harry made a fuss that only made Mia coy with shyness.

Niall gave her tummy a little tickle, as she sat tall in Harry’s arms. “Just like a princess!”.

“Can I have matching plaits?”. Liam teased as he ran his hand over his short hair.

“Don’t be silly…your ‘air is too small”. Mia giggled into her hands.

---

As the weeks went on, so YN’s hormones were rising, and didn’t Louis know it. If she wasn’t crying, she was angry and if she wasn’t sad, she was like a woman on a mission. Louis liked to guess which personality he was going to wake up to. Today seemed like the emotional YN.

YN, Louis and the boys were enjoying some calm time ahead for the show in Denmark that evening. Mia was laying on the floor, a piece of paper in front of her as she coloured quietly.

As the boys chatted amongst themselves, YN glanced over at Mia who was colouring in a picture of a flower she had drawn, the green pen moved across the paper.

Tears began to build up in her eyes, as she watched her not so little baby anymore. One by one the tears began to escape down her cheeks and little sniffles left her nose.

Louis glanced to his side, where YN was sitting. “Hey! What’s wrong babe?”. He was taken back by how quickly her mood changed.

“Are you alright YN?”. Harry asked, frown lines appearing on his forehead, as he sat up in his chair.

Niall’s attention picked up, as he began to bite at his fingernails. Liam watching the scene in front of them too.

Using the sleeve of her jumper to wipe away the tears from her cheeks, YN felt the emotions build up. “I-it’s just…Mia…s-she looks so g-grown a-and not m-my little baby anymore!”.

Niall immediately tucked his lips into his mouth, not trusting himself not to laugh, knowing it wasn’t a funny situation. Liam watched Louis for his reaction and Harry glanced down to where Mia was still colouring, completely oblivious to her mother’s emotional outburst.

“Aww babe…I know it’s bittersweet to see her grow up…but she’ll always be our baby”. Louis tried to sympathise but at the same time couldn’t understand why she was crying now considering Mia was only four.

“B-but…she’s gonna m-move out before w-we know it”. The tears kept falling, one after the other, meeting at the end of her face.

Niall now moved his hand to cover his mouth to stop the laugh that was building up inside him coming out.

“YN…babe…she’s four…I think we’ve got a while until we have to think about that”. Louis reached over to pull her into him for a cuddle as he kissed the top of her head.

“Unless she goes on X Factor at sixteen and never comes home again!”. Liam joked at very bad time, causing Harry and Niall to snap their heads in his direction.

YN only blubbered more into Louis’ arms at his teasing. “Not the time to joke Liam”. Harry intervened.

Liam only put his head down in shame. “Sorry!”.

---

After another tour leg break, YN and Louis were finally ready to share their news with the boys. They had been for their first scan and saw their second healthy and wriggly baby.

They had thought of different ways they could surprise the boys but couldn’t agree, until YN saw a little tutu outfit for Mia with ‘Big Sister’ written across the top. So that’s when they decided they would let Mia do the talking…or showing.

San Diego was the first show back and Louis and YN were the last to arrive to the venue that day as they were pre occupied dressing Mia in her new outfit.

“Dress is so pretty”. Mia span around in a circle, allowing the dress to spin with her.

“The perfect dress for a big sister”. Louis smiled wildly as Mia continued to try and make the tutu spin.

Mia ran her fingers over the words. “Mummy has a baby in her tummy”.

YN ran her hand over the smallest little bump that was peaking out from her dress. “I do…and you’re going to have a little brother or sister”.

With Mia walking proudly around the stadium with her new dress on show, YN and Louis walked behind her waiting to see if the boys would notice.

“Mia! Where’s my girl?”. Niall was quick to notice the young Tomlinson walking to the dressing room. Scooping her up into his arms and spinning her around as she giggled.

“Hey! Tell Uncle Niall he’s got to share”. Harry teased as Niall put Mia back down on the ground, allowing her to give Harry and Liam a cuddle too.

Liam pinched the tutu material of her dress. “Waw I love your dress…it’s very pretty”.

Harry turned his attention to the dress noticing the writing and re reading it to make sure he had read it correctly. But before he had chance to say anything, Niall’s voice boomed through the room.

“No way! You’re joking!”. Niall directed his shock to Louis and YN, who stood near wearing slight smirks on their faces.

Harry looked at the dress again to make sure. “Are you really? You’re having a baby?”.

“What?!”. Liam shot up from his position on the leather sofa. “You’re pregnant?”.

YN and Louis shared a look of happiness as they watched the boys react. Louis breaking the suspense that they were in, waiting for someone to say something. “We’re having another baby!”.

Louis and YN expected a happy reaction from them because of how much they loved Mia, but when the three all looked at each other and let out a loud cheer as they grabbed one and other and bounced around at the news, they were pleasantly surprised.

“YEEESSSSSS!”. The three boys screamed in excitement at another baby entering their little family they had created.

Louis wrapped his arm around YN, finding her lips with his and sealed the special moment with a kiss.

Breaking the couple up, the boys wrapped their arms around them both, bringing them in on their shared excitment.

“Hey! Watch me lady…she’s carrying precious cargo!”. Louis shouted out as the boys continued to squeeze them both.

Taglist:

@ell0ra-br3kk3r @slaymybreathaway @wh0s-nadii @peterholland04 @lillisummers

[minus-plus-zer0]

Almost Too Late

♡ Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff ending ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

You only fell for him when it was almost too late.

You laid there, bleeding on the streets. Bakugou sprinted to your side, skidding to a halt to kneel down and hold your body in his arms.

The sight of your broken body stole his breath away. His eyes lingered on your wound. He screamed for people to come help you, even though he never screamed for help before. You couldn’t make out all the words, your vision fading, but you wanted to hear everything he said because he was saying it for the first time in his life.

“You can’t die… don’t die…”

Those words almost didn’t reach you. Your heart broke for the poor boy before you. But you no longer controlled your own fate.

Bakugou rested his head on your shoulder, sobbing and keeping you as close as possible. Your hand reached up to his face, stroking his cheek. He met your eyes, looking more vulnerable than you could’ve ever imagined him.

His hand found yours, mixing your shaky fingers together.

“I love you…” he said, voice sounding rough like it was dragged against rocks. “Don’t die… I don’t wanna do this without you.”

You never realized he loved you until now. You wished you had known.

“Katsuki… I…”

You were fading fast. The paramedics arrived and took your body somewhere. You heard Bakugou shouting and fighting them off before he realized who they were.

You never gave him an answer, until you awoke some time later.

You opened your eyes, head groggy like it weighed a couple extra pounds. The first thing you saw in your hospital room was Bakugou Katsuki, sitting by your bed, sleeping in a chair waiting for you to wake up.

You barely remembered what happened when you almost died, but you remembered his love confession. The entire ordeal would’ve been awkward with anybody else, but after seeing him here, you never felt so at home.

You grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently, repeatedly, until he awoke. You could barely move but you squeaked out a “Hey bestie” just for him.

His face lit up a thousand watts, he never looked so happy to see you.

“Can I fucking hug you?”

“Y-yes…”

He hugged you tight, soft enough to avoid crushing you under the weight of his desperation. His barely audible sniffles brushed against your neck while his strong arms trembled. Eventually, he pulled away and let you breathe. He smiled at you like you were a sight for sore eyes.

“I’m so, so glad you’re alive,” he said, his voice breaking at the last word. “Never thought I’d get to talk to my best fucking friend again. They basically resurrected you, you should’ve told me you were part-zombie.”

“I’ll bite you and then we’ll be zombies together. Then we’ll never be apart, not even in death.”

“Dummy,” he said that so softly. “I’ll never leave you. Not willingly. Don’t ever die on me. You scared the ever loving shit out of me, you know that?”

“Yeah… I’m sorry…” your smile was marred with new oncoming tears.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your damn fault.” His voice wavered. “I need you here by my side. You can’t go without me. Don’t go, okay? I really wanna see us grow up together.”

“O-okay.”

You held both of his hands in yours, you still kept crying a little and he tried his damndest not to cry (again).

You recalled his confession on your deathbed earlier. It was now so obvious how he felt towards you. He promised his life to you here, you felt like you should’ve known he was in love with you all along.

“Katsuki,” you said, “I… when I almost—you know, died… I heard you say something…”

His face blanched, like you had a gun to his head, ready to pull the trigger and end him for good.

Was he afraid you’d reject him?

“I heard what you said,” you finished.

“…Y-you did?” He trembled, terrified of your response.

“You said you loved me?”

He shook hard, not even trying to hide it. He nodded the tiniest quickest bit. “I love you. Do you—”

“I love you too, dummy.”

Bakugou kissed you deeply. God knows how your appearance must’ve looked, but he kissed you all the same. He pushed deeper into the kiss like he needed to taste everything he could. You could see your heartbeat spike up on the monitor nearby.

How awful it would've been to die without ever kissing him. You would've regretted it beyond the afterlife, rolling in your grave.

Bakugou pulled back, his face still close to yours as you breathed each other in.

"There's still so much I wanna do with you," he said. "So much shit happened when we all thought you were gonna die. I'm gonna make sure not to waste our time together since I finally got you back." He kissed you on the nose and you shyly smiled up at him. "Once you're healed up, you're not leaving my side. I won't make the same mistake twice."

"I won't either."

(I will be posting a fulfilled request later today if I can! Either that or a regular fic)

[elllisaaa]

skz as the weeknd songs

-> pairing : skz x fem!reader

-> words count : 4.2k words

-> genre : smut, angst, toxic relationships, friends with benefits, exes-to-lovers

-> warnings : use of 'slut', 'babygirl', 'whore', 'good girl', 'kitten' and 'pretty boy', dirty talk, teasing, masturbation, phone sex, daddy kink, creampie, swearing, spanking, fingering, unprotected sex, jealousy, possessivness, begging, pussy slap, semi-public, sex, rough sex, body worship, praise, oral (f. receiving), foot fetish, degradation

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> masterlist | skz masterlist | 1k event masterlist

BANGCHAN - OFTEN

"baby, I can make that pussy rain, often"

→ The moment his phone rang, Chan knew what you were up to, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he picked up your call. You only called him at such a time for two things : when you were drunk and needed a ride home or when you were horny. Sometimes, it was both. But every and each time, he couldn’t say no.

“- Hi babygirl, how you doing ?”

A moan answered him, and Chan's smile widened, relaxing in his desk chair even more. He could listen to your noises for hours.

“- Please Channie… Please, I need you so bad, can’t cum alone…

- Poor thing, it doesn’t feel as good as my cock, huh ? 

- Shit- No… It’s not enough, need you please, daddy.”

As the last word left your mouth, Chan was already rock hard, putting on his shoes and grabbing his keys, gaze way more dark than a few minutes before.

“- Daddy’s gonna make you scream babygirl.”

And he did, that’s for sure.

"but I see your eyes, you wanna go again, girl I’ll go again." 

→ Chan let out a deep moan as he felt your cunt clenching hard around his cock, your whimpers and call of his name overpowering his own voice. Soon enough, he emptied inside of you, holding your hips in the hair as he thrusted sloppily in your pussy, riding his orgasm for as long as he could before laying on the bed beside you. 

“- You good babygirl ?”

You turned your head to look at him, cheeks stained with dried tears and eyes still full of lust, still laying on your stomach, you could feel his cum sliding down your inner thighs contrasting with the way he was softly caressing your sweaty back. 

“- Good… 

- I think you’re not telling me the truth here.

- I-I need more, please…”

A harsh slap landed on your ass, making you cry out his name once again. But soon enough, he was back between your legs, sliding his cock into your tight cunt one more time. Both of you moaned, still so sensitive it hurt, but it was what felt so good. 

“- You’re not going to walk tomorrow babygirl, I’m going to ruin you.”

And that, he did too. 

LEE MINHO - CALL OUT MY NAME

"I said I didn’t feel nothing baby, but I lied."

→ Minho knew from the second that your eyes crossed that you wanted him. It was obvious from the way you eyed him up and down, the way you were watching him dance with another girl while biting your lips. And as soon as he noticed your stare, that girl in his arms felt like nothing but a burden. But still, he didn’t show any sign that could make you understand that he was as attracted to you as you were to him, maybe even more. Even when he was fucking into you latter, it was as if he was bored. But when you got a text from him, asking to come to him almost a week later, you knew that he lied. 

“- You love playing so hard to get don’t you ?”

A smirk displayed on his lips as he plunged two of his fingers to the knuckle inside of your pretty pussy, loving to see you already struggling to talk properly. Unlike some girls, you didn’t annoy him, let him come back to you instead, and he loved the feeling of chasing you, of always needing to prove that he was the only one to fuck you like that, even if he knew he was. 

“- Fuck kitten, you looked so stunning tonight, just for me right ?”

You were already too fucked up to form any coherent words, let alone sentences, with your dress pushed past your waist and Minho keeping you pinned against the wall of the bathroom as he rammed into you. 

“- Answer or I’ll stop.”

And he did exactly that, waiting for you to stop whining and respond instead.

“- Yes, yes Min, it’s only for you, I’m only yours.

- Good girl, knows who you belong to.”

Possessiveness came along with being Minho’s favorite girl, but you weren’t complaining.

"so call out my name, when I kiss you so gently, I want you to stay."

→ It has to be one of his favorite things ever, to hear you moan his name. Everytime you cried it out, a smirk widened on his face and he became even more cocky, even more sure about the effect he had on you. And how could you deny it ? Everytime he looked at you, you felt on fire, as if lava was running down your veins. You weren’t the type to fold so easily, but with him, it was different. He made you weak in the knees, made you do things you never thought about doing before meeting him. 

“- Minho ! Minho, please !

- Come on kitten, I know you can do way better than that.”

His harsh slap on your pussy pushed another whimper past your lips, your hand gripping the sheets to stop you from unraveling completely under his heavenly thrusts. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do what he asked, too embarrassed about the boys hearing you, hiding your face in one of your arms as Minho cooed at you.

“- You’re getting shy now ? But kitten, do you think they don’t already know how much of a slut you are for me ? Be a good girl and say my name.”

A particularly rough trust had you screaming, unable to hold back your noises anymore. 

“- Min, Min, oh my god ! So good, so good… So big…”

Your mumbles were incoherent, your words were slurred and your mind went totally blank as your orgasm washed over you, Minho emptying inside of you soon after. You were both breathless, trying to regain some consciousness back. And even if you told yourself everytime that you should leave and not spend the night at his place, you always found yourself waking up in his embrace, and maybe that staying a little longer also came with being Minho’s favorite girl. 

SEO CHANGBIN - THE HILLS

"I only call you when it’s half-past five, the only time I’ll ever call you mine"

→ There had been a time where Changbin was the only person you could think about day and night. And then, everything got too complicated. You never really understood why, and neither did he : one day, he was so sure about wanting to spend the rest of his life with you, and the next, you were fighting like you didn’t love each other anymore. All he knew was that things ended up messily. But he couldn’t help and call you every time he thought about you, everytime he needed you. 

“- Fucking slut, coming right back everytime I call.”

The muffled moans you let out in response made Changbin smirk. He kept your head pressed in the pillow, pounding inside of you and not caring about making you feel good anymore, simply chasing his high. He didn’t want to hear you say his name. It was too intimate, it felt too close to his heart

“- No one else fucks you like this, only me.”

Another moan escaped your mouth, and your cunt squeezed around his cock, making him groan loudly. It was a shame that you were so annoying, because he could spend the rest of his life buried in your pussy. It was a shame, really. 

“- Please, please Binnie…”

He tried to ignore how his heart melted at hearing you say his nickname and pushed your head in his pillow again, getting even more rough with you, hiding how much effect you still had on him. And it was a shame that he wanted you back every time he had you in his arms for the night. 

"keep on tryna hide it but your friends know"

→ “- It’s him again ?”

You turned to look at your friend sipping her cocktail and shook your head, trying to deny the evidence. Everytime he left, you were back to crying in your bestie’s arms, and everytime he came back for a week or two, it was as if he didn’t ever did anything bad to you, or never broke you heart one or two or many times already. 

“- And what if it was ? It’s none of your business.”

Maybe that’s why you leave the club early, because you’re mad at her, or maybe it’s because Changbin asked you to come see him. Maybe that’s why you end up tangled in his sheets like every other time, riding him like you know he loves to. 

“- Bet everyone was looking at you, that dress is so stunning on you princess.”

You closed your eyes, unable to watch his flushed face anymore as he was complimenting you. So you did the only thing that seemed to work for the both of you : you fucked him harder, hoping that it would help you forget everything else that happened. And it was kind of working as he took one of your breasts in his hand, playing with your nipple and making you forget everything once again. 

“- Want you to come inside, want you to fill me up…”

And he did, emptying his load in your fluttering pussy, making you cry his name as you collapsed on top of him. You could feel his hot breath against your neck, and his fingers grazing your scalp. Just like before. Just like when everything was alright. 

“- Stay tonight ?”

You simply nobbed, but Changbin knew that it meant way more than that, and you knew it too, and your best friend probably knew it too, but you hoped that you would not cry in her arms about your ex anymore if he did become your boyfriend again. 

HWANG HYUNJIN - AFTER HOURS

"I know I made you fall then said you were wrong for me."

→ If Hyunjin had to name the thing that scared him the most, it would be love. Yes, he was a hopeless romantic. Yes, he wanted to find his soulmate more than anything. But how could he be so sure that this girl was the one and that he wasn’t missing out on his true love ? How could he be so sure that you were the love of his life ? So even if he was madly obsessed with you, even if you were his muse, he had to let you go. 

“- Jinnie… Oh fuck ! Please don’t stop !”

Your moans only encouraged the man between your thighs to suck on your clit harder, holding your legs open for him to dive even deeper in your pussy. He wanted to make you feel good one last time, wanted to taste you one last time. 

“- Come on angel, want you to cream all over my face…”

You didn’t need more than that to reach your climax, tugging on his hair when it felt too much. As you tried to control your breath, you were waiting for Hyunjin to smile down at you and kiss you, like he did everytime. But nothing came. You opened your eyes again, seeing the door of the bathroom open, and him inside, washing his face. Your heart clenched in your chest, but you understood. It was his way of saying that it was over. You knew it was coming : Hyunjin jad grown more and more distant these days, you should have seen it before. 

“- You’re an asshole.”

The door slammed behind you, and Hyunjin could only agree with you : he was an asshole.

"oh baby, where are you now when I need you most ?"

→ “- Oh ! So, now, you’re asking me to come back after leaving like I was worth nothing ? You’ll have to beg me a little more than that Hyunjin.”

He didn’t know if it was a sick little game or if you were serious, but he got down on his knees anyway. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t already. He looked up at you, waiting for your next command. Because in the end, he was entirely yours, everything he had was yours, everything he was was yours. 

“- I’m so sorry Y/N, I really am… All I wanted was to make you happy, and I felt like I wasn't doing a good job, but I was wrong, and I miss you so much. Fuck, I need you, I need you, please…”

One of the benefits of being with Hyunjin was that he had never been ashamed of what he liked. So the moment you pressed your high heels against the bulge in his pants, you knew that you'd get a reaction, the one you wanted. And accordingly, he moaned loudly, his fingers wrapped around your ankle in hopes it would urge you to move and grant him the friction he desperately needed to get off. 

“- Please, please angel… I swear, I’m so sorry… Please, I need you…”

You knew that you were going to cave in, but it felt so good to be back in his arms, you couldn’t help it.

“- Just apologizing to get in my pants, as usual. Beg some more.”

And Hyunjin obeyed, aware that it was partially true, but that there were some more feelings that would have to wait for after you made him cum in his pants.

HAN JISUNG - EARNED IT

"so I love when you call unexpected, ‘cause I hate when the moment’s expected."

→ It all started on an impulse, looking into each other's eyes and then you were suddenly making out like it was the last time you’ll get the chance to kiss anyone. And then, it was crossing paths at a party and ending up grinding against each other in a hallway. And then, it was him coming up to your apartment and fucking against the wall just because he wanted to. Everything was passionate, intense, unanticipated, and it felt too good to stop. 

“- And he kept on interrupting me ! I can’t stand that jerk anymore ! I’m gonna ki-”

Jisung lips on yours straddled you, but quickly, you caved in and let him come on top of you, his tongue playing with yours. 

“- Sorry baby, you’re so sexy when you’re mad…”

You shook your head and tugged on his hair to guide him back to your mouth instead. Jisung had never hidden anything from you, telling you everything he was thinking of at the moment, and that included the many fantasies he had. 

“- Now that’s new… You like it when I’m mad ? Like it when it’s you I’m mad at ?”

He nobbed immediately, ready to do everything in his power to convince you of trying out that.

“- Words little slut. Or are you too dumb to talk ?

- No, no ! I want it, I want you to be mad at me, please…”

The smirk on your face widened, sensing that you would enjoy this new discovery just as much as him.

"‘cause girl you’re perfect, you’re always worth it, and you deserve it."

→ Usually, Jisung loved it when you took complete control of him, loved to give you everything you wanted, loved it when you were rough with him. But tonight, you were too tired to do that, only needing to be taken care of for once. And ask Jisung and you shall receive it in seconds. He pushed you on the bed, undressing your body and getting his lips and hands everywhere at once, worshiping you and mumbling about how pretty you were.

“- Tell me what you want me to do, I just want to make you feel good, it’s all about you tonight.”

So when you answered nothing and pushed his head down between your thighs instead, he simply complied, eating you out nice and slow, making you tremble under him two times before he came up to kiss you again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. And when Jisung fucked you that night, it was almost too slow, but felt too good to stop, making you orgasm as many times as you wanted.

“- Come on baby, give me another one, you deserve it, you’re so good to me all the time…”

You unraveled once again under his words, exhausted but satisfied and with your needs fulfilled. 

"I always want you when I’m coming down."

LEE FELIX - COMING DOWN

→ Whenever Felix was on stage, he had such a rush of adrenaline that didn’t go away immediately after. He always had energy to spare, and his favorite way to do that was to meet up with you. He was always ditching the after parties under the excuse that he was too tired and preferred to go back to the dorms now. The truth was that he needed you, wanted to ruin you. You were always waiting for him in your bed, a new lingerie set complimenting your body every time. 

“- I choose one to match with your outfit.”

Your supposedly innocent smile made him lose his mind everytime, not bothering to undress you fully before he slid his cock into your already wet pussy, keeping your wrists together in one hand, the other maintaining your hips pinned to the mattress as he rutted into you at a fast pace. His deep moans were echoing in your silent room, except for the squelching noises of your cunt everytime he thrusted into you. 

“- You’re always so good to me angel, letting me use your pretty pussy whenever I want… 

- Love it Lixie !

- Is that so ?”

His little smirk was so hot, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you creamed all over his cock, begging him to shoot his load deep inside you. You were definitely the best way to drown the adrenaline. 

"pick up your phone, I’m all alone." 

→ Being on tour was always both a blessing and a torture for Felix. Of course, he loved to be on stage so much, loved to interact with stays and everything that it included. But at the same time, that meant being away from you. Firstly, he missed you because you were the love of his life, and secondly, it was a struggle to cum without you touching him. 

“- Angel… I need you, please…”

When you picked up his call at two in the morning, you didn’t expect Felix to be moaning loudly for you to help him out. But you couldn’t lie to yourself : it was hot. How could you have said no to him ? That’s why you ended up getting off in the middle of the night, ordering your boyfriend on how to jerk himself. 

“- Feels good Lixie ?

- S-So good, but it’s better when it’s your hands. 

- Imagine it’s me, touch yourself just like I do.”

Another moan of your name escaped him and he felt himself cumming when you told him you were close too. As soon as the call ended, Felix sent you a picture of his abs covered in a huge load of cum, making you salivate and be even more impatient for him to be back home. 

KIM SEUNGMIN - WICKED GAMES

"just tell me you love me even though you don’t love me."

→ There was certainly something wrong with Seungmin for enjoying fucking the girl he hated with his whole heart so much. From the first glance, he knew that he wasn’t going to get along with you. Even if you were one of Jeongin’s closest friends, he couldn’t help himself but disagree with everything you were saying and doing. After all, it was not his fault if you were always wrong and he was always right. 

“- Fucking slut, so dumb you can’t even answer huh ?”

You wanted to, you really wanted to say something back to him, but his cock gliding deliciously against your walls felt too good, felt so good a whimper left your lips instead of words. 

“- That’s what I thought.”

Seungmin pushed your head into his pillow, muffling your cries and holding your hips up against his, buried deep inside of your tight pussy. 

“- You love to put on an attitude with me but all it takes is for you to see my cock to shut the fuck up.”

You wanted to deny it, wanted to remind him that he was always the first one to initiate anything that happened between the two of you. But all you could do was clench around him everytime he degraded you, and the worst part of it was that you knew he kinda meant it, and that it made you even more wet. 

“- That’s it, take it like the whore you are.”

He was so deep inside of you, his tip kissing your cervix and you didn’t need anything more than that to reach your climax, tears streaming down your face. But you knew that he wasn’t done with you, and you loved it as much as you hated it - how weak you were for him. 

"these fucking eyes I’m staring at, let me see that ass."

→ You were doing it on purpose, there was no other way. Of course you had to chose this fucking dress for Jeongin’s birthday party, and of course, you had not spared him a glance except for when you arrived, hours before. It was slowly driving Seungmin crazy, how you were flirting with Minho shamelessly. And why was he so mad anyway ? It was not like you were his girlfriend or anything. But that dress, you perfectly knew it was his favorite one even if he never said it. 

“- You’ll never learn your lesson, huh ? Do I have to remind you again ?”

Before you knew it, Seungmin had shoved you away from Minho and face first into the wall of an empty hallway, pressing his clothed hard-on against your ass that was hugged just right by the material of your dress. And suddenly, he couldn’t resist the urge of slapping your cheeks one, two or three times, not caring about someone hearing your whimpers of his name. 

“- That’s it, let Minho hear who you belong to.”

Soon enough, he pushed your panties aside and slipped in your soaked cunt, both of you not able to keep your noises down anymore. You couldn't believe he had the nerves to be mad about you for flirting with another man, but it was also stroking your ego. 

“- Only I can fuck you this good, understood ? Your pussy is mine baby.”

Seungmin knew that he shouldn’t do that, that he shouldn’t say that, but it felt too good to stop now. He will keep on claiming that he hates you though, but behind closed doors, both of you knew that he'll do anything for another taste of your cunt.  

YANG JEONGIN - LOST IN THE FIRE

"I wanna fuck you slow with the lights on." 

→ When Jeongin talked to you about not being able to see many girls because of his job, he never thought that you would offer your help, but was he complaining ? No. Not at all. You were all he could have dreamt of : you were pliant when he wanted you to, you were down to take control and make him cry when he needed you to. And you loved to experiment just as much as him. He had told you one time how much it aroused him to think about being woken up with sex, but he clearly didn’t expect you to actually do it one day.

“- F-Fuck ! This is the best morning of my life…”

Your chuckles were quickly knocked off your throat, a whine escaping you instead as you kept on riding Jeongin. His hands came to your waist, not doing anything other than feeling up your body. There was no rush, only a slow, slow pace that felt not enough but too much at the same time. 

“- You were so good to me last night, wanted to do something for you Innie.”

The boy threw his head back, moaning a little louder. He spent the said last night between your legs, pushing you over the edge as much time as you wanted to and satisfied with grinding against the sheets. And it was totally worth it if that was his reward. 

“- Oh my god ! Y/N… I’m gonna cum… 

- Go on, fill me up pretty boy.”

Yes, definitely worth it. 

"I can’t lose you babe."

→ Feeling someone slip through your fingers was really not fun, and Jeongin felt his heart sink down his throat as he witnessed you making out with Chan. He knew it was only for this stupid game of truth and dare, knew that it was only for shit and giggles. But what if it wasn’t ? What if you realized you needed more than him ? What if you noticed that he wasn’t good enough for you ? That night, even if the guys where all home, he fucked you rough, and made you cry his name so loudly that it was impossible for them not to hear you. 

“- My throat is so fucking sore…”

Jeongin felt guilty immediately after, cleaning you up really carefully and bringing you a hot cup of milk mixed up with some honey to ease your strained voice. During the whole process, he wouldn’t look too long into your eyes, afraid of what he’ll see in them. 

“- Why are you acting like that, Jeongin ?”

He shrugged his shoulders but kept you as close to him as possible that night. He wasn’t ready to lose you, not at all. But by the way you were always looking at him like had casted a spell on you, he should’ve guessed. He ignited a fire in you that only he could tame. But it was only a question of time before he’ll realize that the same flames were devouring his heart and yours.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

skz taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@minnies-babie @binwons @yoongles2025 @thicccurls @caitlyn98s @hildaortara @sharonxdevi @skz1-4-3 @bbgnyx

1k event taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@rhjwjwhf

[aajjks]

Debt (m)

synopsis. you’re so unlucky that he’s lucky.

warnings. yändērē, sädïstïc bëhävïöür, öbsëssîvë thoughts, öbsëssïön, hê ïs sö ËVÏL, ünhëälthy rëlätïönshïp, yändêrê jk 10x, mäfïä köök, mëntïöns öf kïdnäppïng.

note. HAPPY KNJ DAY! send asks? ENJOY!

“Aren’t you tired of fucking crying all the damn time?”

His words pierce you, how can he be so insensitive to you? He kidnapped you, of course he doesn’t care about your emotions.

He never did.

That’s why you left him.

You only sob harder and don’t look at him, what is the point? His face is the only thing you get to see these days, you feel like you’ll go insane.

“What e-else can I do! P-Please let me go..” your body temperature is burning, you sit on the dirty floor, your clothes are dirty, your heads hurts but this man doesn’t care.

He’s cruel, you hate him.

“Yn. I won’t let you go. So stop fuckin crying, it’s starting to annoy me.” Jungkook groans, you push your head deeper into your lap, he frustrates you to no end, if only you could kill him so you could leave.

“I hate you! I’ll never love you!”

“Do you honestly think that I give a fuck about that? Baby you should know me better.” He tsks, you want to scream from frustration but you can’t.

Because you’re too numb.

“Yn are you seriously that dumb? Huh? Really?” This man makes you want to pull your hair out of your skull, you want to die.

“Yes! I was dumb enough to love you once!”

He tsks again, you roll your eyes as you turn your head in his direction, tilting your body, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Jungkook, sincerely fuck you.”

“Oh but you have, so many times, remember?” He smirks, locking his eyes with yours, you want to wipe that smirk off his face, but you don’t have the energy.

He’s too strong for you.

“We broke up jungkook, get over it. You never deserved me, you lying asshole!” His eyebrows furrow in amusement, you’re entertaining him, oh he’s so sick.

“You broke up with me, baby I never did so it’s not over until I decide it is.” He folds his arms, the tattoos so visible, he’s sitting on that chair so comfortably while you’re on the cold hard ground.

“And you even had the audacity to try to replace me in your life, it makes me laugh at how you think I can be replaced, baby.” You notice him grit his teeth.

Oh now he’s the one that’s getting frustrated?

You want to laugh, he is such a narcissistic person, he thinks he’s so special to you, he was, once. But not anymore.

“What’s his name? Kim Namjoon, eh?”

You scoff, “what a fuckin stalker you are, Jungkook.”

“Of course. You are mine. I kept my eye on you every single day. My men did some digging and guess what, turns out that your boyfriend is in debt.”

“I know everything yn.”

He stands up, while you gasp in shock. You watch him walk towards you, his black shiny shoes hit the surface, his eyes never leave yours for a minute.

“W-What?! You’re a liar, why would you think that I’d believe you?”

He leans down infront of you, matching your level, “I never lie when it comes to you yn.” He looks at you with intensity. “You know that.”

“So, him and I had a little conversation. I approached him of course. And… let’s just say, you are a very unlucky woman in love.”

You feel tears well up in your eyes.

“But I’m lucky, guess what baby. We had a deal. I offered him humbly to clear up his debt and… in return for my favour to him…”

You don’t like this at all, you know this expression of his soul too well, his lips curl up into a smug smile, his eyes are twinkling, yet a dark hue covers them, oh you’re so in trouble.

“I get you back, forever.”

You let out a sob, you finally let it out, Jungkook doesn’t try to comfort you, he just watches you, “n-no…”

“Oh yes baby. Looks like he sold you. And I put my price on you.”

He chuckles, a sadistic cruel bastard.

“And now you’re mine forever, baby. Forever this time.”

[bellobambino]

'O Sole Mio'

?: After a few glasses of cheap Chianti, Luigi tells you a story. Nothing could have prepared you for its delivery.

1,080w

Author's Note: I don't have any words left after this, all i have is feelings and crying and ... im so gone for him. ive lost my mind. i dont know if this shit makes any sense but i was just about weeping writing it LOL

------------

It was the last golden gasp of summer at Seaside Heights, the kind of evening that feels like a postcard itself. The boardwalk was alive with the smell of fried dough and the sound of distant screaming children on rides powered by questionable engineering. Luigi and I had wedged ourselves into a corner table on the patio at some hole-in-the-wall Italian place.

We had ordered slices and “just a glass” of wine, which inevitably became, “Just bring us the bottle.” By the time I was three pours deep, Luigi had his legs stretched out like he owned the place.

His eyes, espresso-dark and shining under the cheap string lights of the boardwalk, were giving me that look. You know the one. Like he knew how good he looked in his half-buttoned linen shirt.

That’s when he suddenly froze, his head tilting to the side. He pointed upward. The music—some cheesy, dramatic Pavarotti knockoff that these Italian dives play to try and appear authentic. Then he smiled, clapping a hand over his mouth.

“What?” I asked, already laughing at whatever dumb thing he was about to say.

“Oh my God.” He shook his head. “I can’t tell you. No way.”

“Well, now you have to tell me.” I smacked his arm—rock solid.

He paused and sighed. “Okay, but promise me you won’t laugh.” He leaned in with a straight face that had me eagerly anticipating another highly entertaining Mangione story.

“I promise,” I lied.

“Alright.” He looked around, then leaned in conspiratorially. I was melting for this man. Every moment with him felt important, filled with meaning. He could have said anything, and I’d lap it up like a dog. “So,” he started, rubbing his face like he was already regretting this.

“My mom used to play these mix CDs on the stereo at home. Pavarotti, Bocelli, all the classics, right? She’d be cooking, cleaning, just vibing to these… love songs.”

“Sure,” I said. Totally normal so far.

“But this song”—he pointed upwards again to the song playing on the patio speakers—“‘O Sole Mio,’ a total guilty pleasure for her. When it came on, she would lose her mind. Singing, swaying, dancing. And eight-year-old me sat there watching her, thinking, This must be the greatest song in the history of songs. So, Mother’s Day comes around…”

At this point, Luigi paused, biting his lip like he wasn’t sure he should continue. I couldn’t help the smile that possessed my face.

“Oh my God, Lu, what did you do?”

He waved me off, reaching for his wine. “No, nah, I can’t—”

“Finish the story, Luigi.”

“Fine.” He threw his hands up. “I learned the song. Like, the whole song, okay? I watched every Pavarotti performance on YouTube at the time. Memorized the lyrics. Practiced in front of the mirror. And on Mother’s Day, I performed it for her.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. For her, my family, my cousins, neighbors. I’m pretty sure Pavarotti himself has sung for smaller audiences.”

I lost it. “You did not…” I said, breathless already. The image of little eight-year-old Luigi in my head, filled with love for his mama, singing an Italian love song in complete earnestness, was too hysterical to keep contained.

“I did,” he admitted. The music swelled in the restaurant, hitting that classic over-the-top crescendo, and Luigi—my God, this man—pushed back his chair and stood up.

“And now…” He slapped his hand on his puffed-up chest and lifted his chin.

“Luigi, NO.”

“I will sing it for you.”

And let me tell you, it was terrible.

He was hamming it up like some kind of opera drunk on karaoke night, his voice all over the place but somehow still deeply passionate, like he was singing to save Italy itself. People in the restaurant were staring. I was just as mortified as I was captivated. Tears were streaming down my face. Dying. And he didn’t stop. He didn’t care. He kept going—arms gesturing wildly, every crescendo perfectly wrong—and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

When he hit the final note—“O SOOOOLEEEEEE MIIIIOOOOOOO!”—he threw out his arms in a dramatic flourish, like he was expecting roses to rain down from the sky. I clapped so hard my palms hurt.

When he finished, he bowed. One or two other patrons gave half-hearted claps, probably just impressed by his dedication to the bit. His cheeks and ears were a delicious shade of pink, his smile lighting up his face as he moved his chair closer to me.

“You’re too much, Luigi,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes.

He finally sat down, our knees touching. He leaned towards me, and suddenly I was his only audience. “Do you know what the song means?” His voice was soft, so only I could hear. There was a twinkle in his eye that wasn’t there before.

I shook my head.

“Okay, ‘O Sole Mio’—it means ‘My Sunshine.’ It’s about… someone being the light of your life. Like…” He shifted his weight, trying to find the words. “Like even the sun itself can’t hold a candle to the person you love.”

He ran a hand through his hair, a little embarrassed by the intensity, but too caught up in the moment to stop himself. “It’s like the artist was saying, ‘The world is so much brighter with you in it.’ The guy is completely wrecked over how beautiful life is because of this one person... you know?”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly, gauging if any of this was resonating with me at all. His goofy bravado had melted into something almost painfully genuine and sincere.

This was real for him.

“I do know, Lu,” I said quietly.

He leaned back, taking his wine. He shrugged. “And that’s why I sang it for my mom.” He tried to downplay it, but I saw right through him. “Because she’s always been my sunshine. Always will be.”

My breath caught in my throat at that.

Then, he must have realized he’d gone too far into the serious zone. He snapped back to being playful. “Anyway, I fucking nailed that performance on Mother’s Day, and everyone talked about it for weeks after.”

I don’t know if he realized what he was doing to me. The lights sparkled brighter. The air tasted sweeter. And my heart was warmer. Because he was here. He was insane, but I wouldn't have him any other way.

The song made perfect sense. Life is a gift with you.

~~~

What a beautiful thing is a sunny day.

But another sun, even more beauteous, oh my sweetheart, My own sun, shines from your face This sun, my own sun, Shines from your face; It shines from your face

[swift-creates]

category: Gen

fandom: DC Comics (Young Justice, Batfamily)

characters and relationships: Tim Drake, clone baby, Kon haunts the narrative (Timkon isn’t explicit but. it’s a clone baby au)

warnings: almost drowning, infant whump

Summary:

@ailesswhumptober Day 29: Ownership, branding, “Everybody will know that you’re mine.”

Tim tries to clone Kon, but this time it works.

notes: I can write so many Timkon fics with this prompt list :fireElmo: Inspired by this post by @hyperblue which has haunted me from the moment I saw it please come bother me with interest about this AU or any of mine plsplspls on my knees in tears pls

—

Tim woke to the loud beeping of one of the many machines in his lab. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, frowning at his reflection in the powerless computer screen; there were sleep marks on his cheek from the sleeve of his sweater, but aside from that he barely looked like he’d rested at all. The circles under his eyes hadn’t budged, and he sighed and scrubbed his hands across his face. It wasn’t like anyone was going to see them, anyway. He rarely left his lab except to grab more snacks from Titans Tower when he ran out, his work far too important to abandon. 

Tim got up and trudged past the empty cloning chambers to look for whatever had gone wrong, picking at the plaster on his arm where he’d drawn his own blood. His tablet lay on a table across the room, and he needed to recheck the Kryptonian environment values he’d copied off the Batcomputer-

One of the chambers wasn’t empty. 

He stared at it for a second, seeing but not quite understanding. Attempt one hundred and twenty-nine successful, the green letters said cheerfully. He stepped closer slowly, as if it was an animal that would lunge and try to bite him, and gingerly placed a hand against the glass. It was near but not exactly room temperature — 99.2 degrees Fahrenheit, 37.3 degrees Celcius, to be precise, ever so slightly warmer than a regular human temperature. 

“It worked,” he said to the empty lab. The machines keeping 129 alive seemed to sigh in response, then the beeping got louder, and the infant stirred in its glowing pod. No, not just stirred. It flinched. 

Error, the screen read now in bright failure red. The small letters underneath would have told him the reason, but he didn’t read it because 129 was struggling, tiny lungs seeking desperately for air and only receiving fluid. Tim’s heart screamed, and then he realised he was screaming. 

He can’t lose him. Not again and not like this. 

One heartbeat, and he was rushing forward, smashing the glass with his bo staff and pulling the infant out of the pod. 129 coughed up liquid and was still for a terrifyingly long moment, and Tim’s heart froze in his chest. 

Then the baby took a shaky breath and let out a gloriously loud cry. Now he was wet and wailing, but he was breathing. At least he was breathing. Tim went to rub a hand across his face in relief and halted when he realised it was covered in thick fluid. “It’s okay,” he said, and realised his throat was choked with tears. 129 cried louder and kicked his little legs as Tim became painfully aware how austere and clinical his lab was, absolutely no place for a helpless infant. There was no milk ready for him, no swaddling cloths to wrap him up in. And it was so, so cold. He must be so cold. Get it together, Drake. 

There was a shirt hanging on the back of his chair, and Tim reached for it, wrapping 129 in the black fabric and holding him close. “Shhh. It’s okay. Shh, shh.” The baby’s cries lowered slightly in volume, but didn’t stop. Tim bounced him gently, folding the shirt over him to keep him warm better- 

The edge of a familiar red insignia peeked out from underneath the folds of the shirt, and Tim froze. Kon’s shirt had artificial amniotic fluid and a crying baby in it. Kon’s shirt was wet and soiled and ruined and gone and Tim can’t even protect this one last part of him can he-

Then he was sliding down the wall to the floor and realised he was the one crying now. “I’m sorry,” he gasped, to Kon and to 129 and to no one at all. “I’m s- I’m so sorry.” 129 made a soft sound in his arms, but that just made him cry harder. Tim couldn’t take care of a baby. He’d failed Kon and failed Bart and failed Bruce and it’d been barely a day and he was already failing 129. 

As if that wasn’t enough, he had the stark realisation that the child in his arms resembled old baby pictures of Tim himself a little too closely, the tiniest package of Kryptonian blue eyes in a round little face. “Everyone will know you’re mine.” This wasn’t supposed to happen. His DNA was supposed to stabilise Kon’s, not influence it. He’d given 129 the curse of being related to him, in addition to being the ghost of a dead man. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He curled in around the infant and wept, surrounded by broken glass and a broken heart. 

[imtooscaredforthis]

Entrapment

Chapter Twenty Nine: Broken In

Mentions of: Explicit Sexual Content, Dubcon/noncon themes, cutting/knife usage, choking and violence, etc.

A/N: I’m not dead, I promise!! Just drowning in school life and all that

Tags: @elentiyaiswriting @dead-bxxxtch-walking @vandeaad @mama-miya @the-fandoms-georgie

For what felt like years, everything went dark. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. You stood there, frozen in place. Shocked, scared, broken. Once again, he had won. Once again, he had beaten you. Once again, had terrorized you, always managing to shake you to your core, no matter how hard you tried to fight it.

The next thing you knew, you had taken off, sprinting as fast as you could. You made your way back to your apartment, not even bothering to see if he was following. Once you got there, you slammed the door behind you and bolted it shut, running to the windows and double checking to make sure they were locked.

And then, you finally broke.

“Fuck!” You screamed, grabbing a chair from the kitchen table and throwing it across the room. You slammed your fist into the table in front of you, beating at it. Rachel was gone. She was actually gone and it was all your fault. Just like Lucia and Jesse.

Your knuckles were bloodied, and you didn’t even realize you were crying until you could hear your broken sobs, and feel your cheeks getting all wet. You slumped down, resting your body against the kitchen counter, letting yourself cry. Your body felt so sore and heavy, you just wanted to rest. You just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up again.

“Oh, poor baby girl.” A sadistic voice cooed. There he was out of nowhere, looming above you.

He reached across, running his gloved fingers over your cheek and brushing the tears away. “It’s not your fault. You tried warning her, but she didn’t listen. Stupid bitch.”

That made you snap. You smacked his hand away, reaching up and grabbing the knife on your counter. “Don’t touch me, you sadistic piece of shit. I’ll fucking kill you.”

In an instant, he tackled you, grabbing your arm and pinning you to the ground. One hand was on your wrist, the other wrapped around your throat. “Oh, so that’s what you want to do, huh? You want to hurt me? You want to kill me? Do it.”

His grip loosened around your throat and he tugged your hand, positioning it so you had the knife resting right at the center of his chest. You could easily kill him from there, press hard enough and slice through an aorta, but you didn’t. You couldn’t and he knew that. With a shaky hand, you pressed slightly, but then pulled away.

Even if you wanted him to hurt, even if you wanted him to pay, you didn’t want to be like him. You weren’t a murderer. You weren’t a monster like him. He tsked in response, yanking the knife from your hands and clenching your throat again.

“It’s sad. I really hoped you would have it in you. But you always have to fight it.” He leaned in, letting his mask rest against your cheek. “Maybe you like me too much.”

“Fuck you.” You spat angrily.

“You already did, sweetheart, and we both know you loved it.” He forced his thumb into your mouth, pressing the knife to your throat. You had no other choice but to wrap your lips around the digit, letting him push it to the back of your throat.

“Such a filthy slutty mouth. I should really do something about it, shouldn’t I? Make you my good girl all over again.” You were basically choking on the leather at this point, the metallic taste of blood on them making your eyes sting. You wanted to fight him, you wanted to bite his thumb off.

After a few long moments, he pulled away, leaving you drooling and gasping for air. Once you found your voice, you spoke again. “I’m not yours, and I never will be. I hate you. You’re disgusting.”

“Then why are you soaked through your panties right now, huh?” He pressed his thigh against your crotch, grinding it against you. You jolted from the sudden hard sensation against your clothed clit, a surprised moan slipping from your lips.

You were soaked. Why did your body react this way? Why did your body want this, when your mind was fighting so hard against it? What was wrong with you?

He grinded his thigh against your cunt harder, giving you more delicious friction. You couldn’t help but buck your hips against him. “Yeah, that’s it. Fuck yourself on my thigh like the little slut you are. Does that feel good?”

You bit your lip, holding back a moan and refusing to respond. He dug his knife into your neck, drawing blood. You hissed in pain. “Answer me, whore.”

“Yes.” You mewled, grinding against him, feeling that coil in your stomach tighten.

You shut your eyes, trying to pretend that you weren’t here, doing this with him. That it was anybody else. It helped slightly, except for the chilling feeling of the knife pressing against your skin as a reminder. He gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Keep them open.” He hissed, reaching down and pushing your panties aside, rubbing your clit roughly. You arched your back, your eyes flying open, coming face to face with his mask. His other hand pinched your cheeks, holding you in place. “Good girl.”

The next thing you knew, he had you pushed over the edge, letting you grind against his thigh as you worked yourself through your high, moaning and mewling.

He wrapped his arms around you, carrying you back to the bedroom. Your legs felt like jelly when he placed you down on the bed, and you heard the familiar clinking of his belt. He was on top of you this time, removing parts of his robe. You should be looking at him and everything he revealed, memorizing all of it and putting the pieces together. But before you could even think he was inside you and thrusting at an intoxicating pace.

“Fuck.” You choked out as you felt him wrap a hand around your throat and squeeze. Your eyes fluttered as he hit that spot every time.

“Isn’t it so much better when you don’t fight it? When you give in? Doesn’t it feel so good?” He hisses into your ear.

You found yourself nodding, unable to speak or think, just feel. Just like he wanted. He was winning. He had won time and time again, and you were tired of fighting. Tonight, you let yourself give in. You let yourself get lost in the pleasure and just feel.

He made you cum on his cock multiple times, switching positions and moving you like a doll, making you feel like a toy for him to use. You moaned and held onto him, cumming so hard that you were getting dizzy and you couldn’t even recognize the sounds you were making anymore.

It was probably the fourth time, (or maybe the fifth, you were losing count) when he had you on your knees while he thrusted in from behind. Your legs were shaking, threatening to give out, but he kept you up with one arm around your waist. His other groped your breast, enjoying how the flesh bounced in his hand.

“Ghostface, Ghostface.” You moaned, and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head. He leaned over and kissed you, and you barely comprehend that his mask was off and you could feel his stubble scraping against your jaw.

“Danny, baby. Call me Danny.” He crooned into your ear, biting the skin softly.

“Danny.” You let slip, hearing him groan in pleasure, his cock pulsating a little from your words. He kissed you again. “Good fucking girl. My good girl. Keep gripping my cock, just like that.”

He wrapped an arm around your neck, and you could feel yourself getting all light headed as he pounded inside. He was fucking you even harder, enjoying how you tightened from the lack of oxygen. He hit that spot over and over, making you see stars and pushing you over the edge. He came with you, biting into your shoulder so hard that he drew blood.

You felt him lay you down and bed, the familiar flash of a camera stinging your eyes and breaking you out of your daze ever so slightly. You didn’t care. You couldn’t. You were too exhausted, and you let yourself drift off.