#dizzy dazed anon

[kaiyunsim]

still into you —

pairing : idol!ni-ki x manager m!reader

summary : one minute you���re managing chaos at work, the next you’re realizing the kid you used to babysit is taller and totally in love with you. somewhere in the middle, your brain forgets how to function.

warnings : fluff, age gap (ni-ki is ~4-5 years younger), kinda cliche tbh, reader is boynextdoor’s rookie manager

a/n : trying to get these requests done ! also do we like these ^ photos / header ?? or should i go back to the normal ones

queuing : still into you - paramore, who are you? - saga faye, always - daniel caesar, endlessly - bixby, night changes - one direction

[requested] by anon

— wc : 2.0k — not proof read —

you’re running late. not a great first impression when you’re barely a week into your new job, sprinting down hybe’s polished hallways with coffee in one hand and a tablet tucked under your arm. the building feels endless, identical glass doors and blinding white lights making you dizzy. you skid around a corner too fast, don’t even see the group coming until it’s too late.

coffee sloshes out of the cup, splattering the floor and the front of someone’s black hoodie. you freeze, heart thudding.

“shit, i’m so sorry—” you start, looking up—

and then up. and up. because the guy you’ve just doused is tall. ridiculously tall. he blinks at you, stunned for half a second, before this slow, familiar grin spreads across his face.

“hyung?” he says, voice somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

you blink at him, brain buffering. the face is vaguely familiar, sharp jawline and messy hair and a glint in his eyes that you can’t quite place.

“you grew,” he says, laughing as he plucks the empty coffee cup out of your hand and tosses it in a nearby trash can. “you’re still tiny though.”

you stare, heat creeping up your neck. tiny? who does he—

and then it clicks.

the way his nose crinkles when he laughs. the way he tilts his head, waiting for you to recognize him.

“riki?” you say, almost a question.

his grin widens. “you remember.”

you do, but it’s like an unconfortable amazement. because the last time you saw nishimura riki, he was twelve years old, barely up to your chin. he had just moved to korea, awkward and shy and homesick, and you, freshly eighteen and cocky with the title of “part-time babysitter” had been assigned to look after him.

he’s not that kid anymore. not even close.

“you got tall,” you mutter, dazed.

he laughs, and it’s deeper now, richer. “yeah. you didn’t.”

you scowl instinctively, and that just makes him laugh harder, like it’s the most natural thing in the world after not seeing eachother for about 8 years. like there’s not a solid foot of height difference between you now.

“still cute though,” he adds, and then winks.

you’re too stunned to respond, standing there while he and his group, enhypen, shuffle around you, offering half-hearted apologies and amused glances. someone hands you a napkin. ni-ki doesn’t move his arm until one of his members drags him away by the sleeve, still grinning at you over his shoulder.

you’re left in the hallway, clutching the napkin

later, when you’re sitting in the boynextdoor practice room, trying to scrub coffee stains out of your jacket with a half-dry wet wipe, your mind drifts back to earlier. to him.

to the way he’d had to double take when he saw you. like he wasn’t expecting you at all. like he was happy.

you chuckle under your breath, shaking your head.

you remember that kid, the one who used to tug on your sleeve and show you secret corners of the trainee dorms, dragging you into trouble with his bright-eyed plans. the one who fell asleep on your shoulder halfway through every movie you put on.

you hadn’t thought much about where he might end up. hadn’t pictured him all grown up.

but there he is now. somehow taller than everyone in the hallway. flashing the same grin like no time had passed. it’s weird, seeing someone you used to babysit look so… grown.

but it’s not a bad feeling. just strange. like looking at a before-and-after photo you didn’t know you were waiting for.

you shrug it off. he’s just being friendly. you did spend months babysitting him, after all. maybe he’s just happy to see a familiar face. you let it go.

except, you keep running into him.

hallways, practice rooms, elevators. it’s almost funny how often your paths cross. and somehow, every time, ni-ki’s there first, already grinning like he knows a secret.

he leans on your shoulder casually whenever you’re standing close, treating you like his personal armrest.

he tosses snacks at you like it’s a sport, flipping bags of chips across rooms with scary precision.

he lingers after rehearsals, pretending he’s looking for something he dropped, just so he can stick around a little longer.

“you’re really bad at pretending you’re not following me,” you joke one afternoon, catching him loitering by the vending machines again.

ni-ki just smirks, handing you a cold can of coffee without being asked. “maybe i’m not pretending.”

you snort, bumping your shoulder into his without thinking. easy. familiar. like slipping into an old hoodie you forgot you loved.

he’s always teasing you about your height, too, leaning down exaggeratedly when he talks to you, grinning like he’s waiting for you to get mad.

“swear i grew another inch this week,” he says once, ruffling your hair before you can duck away. “you’re basically a collectible now.”

you roll your eyes, laughing despite yourself.

it’s just ni-ki being riki.

it feels almost normal, falling back into this pattern. even if he’s bigger now. sharper around the edges. a little more confident than the kid you remember.

you’re not overthinking it. you don’t need to overthink it. he’s just someone from your past, someone who you helped make trainee life a little less lonely, finding you again.

you’re just…happy he’s doing well. that’s all.

but sometimes you catch yourself staring at him, across practice rooms, down long corridors. you can’t help but think about how fast everything changes.

he used to be the homesick kid you snuck extra snacks for. the one who needed you to stay up late playing video games so he could fall asleep with company.

now he’s chatting with the members of the group you’re managing, about to record a collab video to advertise the recent comebacks.

you clear your throat and flick your pen against your clipboard, focusing on your task list.

it’s good to see him again. really good. but you’ve got a job to do. and he’s got his own path, too. whatever this is, friendship, familiarity, something in between, you’re just glad you didn’t lose it.

—

you’re running on fumes by the time the day ends.

it feels like you’ve been putting out fires since noon. double-booked schedules, a last-minute venue change, two different members bickering over nothing. your head’s buzzing from all the noise.

so you escape. just for a second.

you find an empty breakroom tucked into the corner of the floor, dim and too quiet, and drop yourself onto the nearest couch like a puppet whose strings got cut. you lean forward, elbows on your knees, hands dangling. just breathing.

you don’t even hear the door creak open. not until a cold can taps lightly against your knee.

you blink up.

ni-ki’s standing there, casual, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket. he doesn’t say anything. just nudges the drink toward you again, like: take it, dummy.

you crack open a tired smile, accepting it. “you stalking me or something?”

he huffs a laugh and slides down onto the couch beside you, slouching until his knees are practically level with yours.

“could smell the burnout from the hallway,” he says easily.

you snort, tipping your head back against the cushion. “yeah, well. it’s been a day.”

you expect him to crack another joke, something about you getting old and fragile or short and tiny, but he doesn’t. he just sits there, his shoulder a warm line of comfort next to yours, fiddling idly with the tab on his drink.

it’s… nice. the quiet. the way he’s not pushing you to talk, just being there. you take a sip, the coldness biting pleasantly at your throat, and let yourself laugh under your breath.

“you’re weird, you know that?” you murmur, side-eyeing him. “not a lot of people would track me down just to hand me a drink.”

ni-ki shrugs, mouth tilting into a small smile. “not a lot of people babysat me through my weird dancer phase,” he says, casual as anything.

you chuckle. yeah. you did live through that era..

for a second, it’s easy to believe you’re just those two people again, him, the stubborn kid dragging you into whatever weird idea he had next, and you, the one trailing behind.

you’re about to say something stupid, something like, ‘you turned out alright’

when he speaks again, it’s soft. like he’s thought about it for a while.

“i’ve liked you forever, you know.”

the words land like a dart hitting the exact center of a target. sharp. impossible to ignore.

you blink, mid-sip, nearly choking. “huh?”

he shifts, turning a little to face you, expression open and weirdly calm, like he’s not just detonating your entire brain with a single sentence.

“i used to think it would go away when i grew up,” ni-ki says, eyes steady. “but… it didn’t.”

your brain shorts out. completely.

liked. you.

liked you.

used to? didn’t? WHAT.

you stare at him, mouth slightly open, like he’s suddenly started speaking a language you don’t understand because the lingering after practices, the snacks, the teasing, the leaning down so he could look you in the eye, like it was some kind of private joke.

you thought—

you genuinely thought he was just being friendly. nostalgic. grateful.

not this.

not into you.

your ears burn. you’re pretty sure your soul just left your body.

‘the kid i used to babysit is into me??’

in caps. bolded. flashing like a giant neon sign. actually caps doesn’t even show how stunned you are.

you make a sound. a wheezy, useless one.

then you laugh, awkward and breathless and absolutely struck with something, rubbing the back of your neck because your hands don’t know what else to do.

“i… i’m sorry,” you stammer out, the words tumbling over themselves. “i didn’t—i mean, i didn’t notice. at all. seriously. i’m the biggest idiot, huh?”

ni-ki laughs too. a little embarrassed, sure, but there’s relief in it too, like he was bracing for something worse.

“you noticed now,” he says simply, bumping your shoulder with his. “that’s enough.”

you sit there, heart hammering away in your chest, trying to catch up to the reality you just crash-landed into.

ni-ki likes you. riki has liked you. for years, probably.

and somehow, you, who prides yourself on noticing everything, missed every single sign.

you glance sideways at him. he’s leaning back against the couch now, sipping his drink like nothing earth-shattering just happened. like he didn’t just turn your world slightly sideways.

and he’s still riki. still the kid who used to tug you out to the park on weekends. still the one who fell asleep next to you with his shoes half-on.

just… taller now. steadier. more himself than ever.

you breathe out slowly. “can i be honest?” you say, voice a little hoarse.

ni-ki tilts his head, waiting.

“i… need a little time,” you admit, fiddling with the tab of your can. “not because i don’t… like you—” you break off, not sure how to finish that sentence without lying. “just… it’s a lot to process, you know?”

he smiles. small, but real. “take all the time you want,” he says, standing and stretching like a cat. “i’m not going anywhere.”

you watch him walk to the door, tall, unhurried, somehow carrying the same stubborn hope he always had. you watch him grin over his shoulder one more time before slipping out, the door clicking shut behind him.

you stare at the empty room.

your heart’s still fluttering. soft and persistent. like it’s remembering something your brain hasn’t caught up to yet.

you drag a hand over your face, groaning under your breath. “maybe i’m into him” you mutter to yourself.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

tysm for reading :>

enha taglist :

perm taglist : @s0shroe @minoouz @the0p @mon2sunjinsuver @solkver @lov3lyaaru

[nxtaliaistyping]

Tim Drake worship kink? He deserves it<3<3<3

Tim Drake + worship kink <3

Author's note: you're so right anon, he does

gn reader, nsfw 18+, sub tim again because I have a problem

"Baby..."

His slightly whimpery tone causes heat to rise between your legs as you straddle him. You'd rid him of his shirt, leaving his toned muscles on show for your hungry gaze, but also your fingertips. The slight sensation of the barely there touch down his chest makes his back arch a little.

"You're so beautiful Tim."

He smiles, a shy smile that melts you as he looks at you, slightly dazed. Leaning down, you kiss him sensually, putting the passion you feel for him into the action. Tongues stroke eachother, your hands run up to tweak at his nipples, his hips grind up into yours; it's a swirl of emotion and desire.

He gasps for air as you start to kiss down to his neck, licking and sucking until blooming bruises form on the skin. He can't bring himself to care that he'll get looks from his family at breakfast tomorrow, too caught up in the dizzying sensation of you lavishing him in affection.

"Honestly, you're just so gorgeous and sweet." You say against his shoulder, planting a kiss before moving down to the middle of his chest. As the light from the bedside table illuminates you both, slight gleams of saliva can be seen as you drag your lips and tongue down to his navel.

"Thank you..."

"No need to thank me baby," you say with a grin, kissing before biting his hip gently to watch him flinch, "it's the truth."

He gasps as you start to shimmy him out of his pajama bottoms, reveling in the bulge straining against his boxers. A little bit of precum leaks from the tip, causing a small stain that he attempts to cover up with his fists, but you gently move them away, pinning them to his sides.

"Don't hide." you reprimand softly, and he bites his lip in response.

With another cheeky grin, you lean down and start to mouth at his clothed cock, feeling how twitchy he's getting beneath the fabric.

"O-Oh please..."

"Please what Timmy?" You coo at him teasingly, sucking through the fabric and causing his hips to buck up from the mattress.

"Please take them off." He whines, eyes fluttering closed.

Pretending to huff at his request, you tug them down until his dick springs up and nearly hits you around the face. You grab the base, gazing at it before licking a broad stripe from base to tip.

"Such a pretty cock Tim."

His cheeks burn with embarrassment, but his eyes snap back open to watch you. You tap his cock against your tongue a few times, before planting sloppy kisses along the sides. No inch isn't covered in your spit, and you hadn't even put him in your mouth yet.

But you're only human, so you part your lips and take him inside, slurping and setting a rhythm that had your lover's toes curling. He grabbed your hair, just wanting something to ground himself as you bob up and down, hollowing your cheeks.

"Oh fuck baby...thank you...oh thank you baby." he babbles as you suck the life out of him, pulling off just to spit on it and pump your hand up and down him.

"Look at you, you're so gorgeous like this. Pretty boy needs to be spoiled, doesn't he?"

"Y-Yes...need to be spoiled." he hiccups, as you suckle the head harshly, tasting more of his delicious precum. You hum around him, taking him deeper in your throat than before, hands stroking his thighs.

Slight gags emit from your throat, but you don't stop, can't stop. You need to make him feel good, feel loved, like it's his divine right. Catching your breath, you pull off and start to quickly jerk him, lowering your mouth to suck on his balls. You shake your head from side to side as your feel the skin with your tongue, before doing your best to pop one in your mouth.

Tim moans out loud, other hand firmly gripping the sheets as the one still tangled in your hair keeps you firmly sucking his balls. "Oh god...so close, please let me...please I need to."

You nod before going back to sucking him off, quick bobs of your head as well as your hand working the base makes him barrel towards his orgasm. With a soft cry, he spills buckets into your mouth, and you drink it all up like you always do.

His body goes slack as you pull away, running your hands up his thighs towards his chest once more.

"So pretty."

He smiles again, giddy and shy. "Thanks birdie..."

[pilotingdreammsss]

hi

it’s Milky Way anon 😼

uh

maybe a hollyberry cookie x reader

:3

A new anon! Welcome welcome, I would be honoured to fulfil your request!

Berry Juice and kisses

Warnings: Use of petname (darling). Otherwise, just fluff! Hollyberry Cookie (Post awakening) x reader.

"Our Queen Mother!"

A citizen yelps, dashing to the castles entrance as an admittedly scruffy-looking Hollyberry Cookie emerges from the castle. You're, as expected, behind her, tailing her quietly. Despite your status as the Queen Mother's spouse and partner, the public had no knowledge of it yet. She'd only suggested a reveal during your long-winded journey back from Beast-Yeast, in an attempt to face all the problems troubling her.

She was a changed cookie, now, but it was good change. You felt a weight had been lifted from her heart, one that had undoubtedly caused rifts in your relationship beforehand. You place your arms around one of hers, clinging closely. She was stronger, for sure, even more so than before. She dared not to use this strength against you anywhere, but you'd marvelled at her many feats using it. Defeating dragons, besting the greatest warriors in the Hollyberry Kingdom, pummelling cake monsters with her bare hands... All riveting events, ones you'd seen many times during your relationship with her.

She raises one of her hands, holding a glass of berry juice.

"We have returned victorious from Beast-Yeast! Hollyberrians, it's time to celebrate!"

You flash a shy smile at her as various citizens cheer and gawk at her. She smiles back, bold and loud. Some begin to bring out bottles of juice, bear jellies, and instruments. Festivities were not new after victories, the Holyberrians certainly liked to party, whichever house they were! At once, citizens gathered around tables to play games, drink and indulge in leisurely talk. The Queen Mother herself would refill her glass, toasting to continued victories of the Hollyberry Kingdom. It's a positively loud scene, and not much your fancy, but you too knew she'd certainly seek you out if you left.

You're still just to her side, whilst she talks with citizens, nobles and her own family. You try not to feel excluded, but everything happening makes you so dizzy...

"...And a toast to my darling partner!"

Several cookies turn and gasp as she hauls you up on her shoulders using her strong arms, taking you a little by surprise. Your surprise is short-lived however, replaced with giggling joy as you demand for her to cease her hold on you. She only replies with a mischievous smile and almost sets you down again.. almost.

Instead, she holds you in both arms (not too tightly!), gently pressing a small kiss onto your face. Then another. And another. Until you're positively reeling - confusedly flustered - at her actions. Only then she stops holding you. To her, it's prime drunken entertainment when you stand there, dazed, looking quite silly. A few cookies start cheering.

"Don't tell me that's enough to take you out!"

She laughs, pulling you to her side with one arm (and enough strength to wrangle a cakehound). You only huff, pushing at her playfully, vowing to get revenge on her later. Though you're still not sure on what 'revenge' you're actually going to enact. This too sends her laughing, hiccupping slightly, doubting your legitimate revenge.

"Oh you don't mean that, darling! No revenge will ever make me regret that."

She beams, radiant as ever, putting both hands on her hip. Whilst she's distracted, you dash to the opportunity to deliver revenge kisses of your own, and a nuzzle at the end, for good measure. She only snorts slightly, though the dark tinting on her cheeks tells you all you need to know.

"That's what you call revenge, darling thing? Hah! That's reward!"

[facefullofsadness]

ever think about car sex with aeri... yeah, I do, a lot

I most certainly do too anon... a lot. ooouuu the au concepts to go alongside car sex with aeri are quite literally countless like I can envision after a dinner party w designer!giselle (she's been occupying my mind for weeks guys idk I wanna make like a miniseries on that aeri-), hooking up with stranger!giselle from the club in the parking lot, stepsis!giselle taking u out for an *innocent* midnight drive but u can't take ur hands off one another, bully!giselle putting u in ur place after u refused to do her hw, ugh I could go on and fucking on.

but for today, let's paint the picture of bestie!aeri. it's summer vacation and you both are bored at 2 am, deciding to go out on a joy ride with your bestfriend who you've been crushing on for fucking ever, and what's a friendship without mutual yearning accompanied by intense flirting and affection to make each other confused right? blasting music with the windows down as u both sing ur heart out to u and aeri's shared playlist (gay), both of your outfits leave little to imagination, sheer and flimsy tops with unbearably short shorts, it's hot as fuck so sweat gleams on ur guys' skin, shining from the street lamps and moonlight.

but the tension? my god it's insane. when the tone of the music shifts as sensual rnb plays rhythmically on the speakers, you look at aeri and holy fuck she looks god-like. the sheen on her milky skin from her perspiration, her messy hair clinging to her body, her arms toned perfectly clutching on the steering wheel, the way her tank top hugged her chest and waist deliciously, her juicy thighs on full display, and her lips plump red after licking them locking eyes with you at the stoplight. you were so dizzy, the ache in your core throbbing from the mixture of adrenaline and js looking at your best friend. u watched as she pushed her hair back with her big veiny hand, threading her fingers through her messy hair, still staring shamelessly as she drove into an empty parking lot.

doesn't take long for her to grab you by the neck (choking you) and pull your head forward towards her, making a choked noise, practically a whimper. her smirk and eyes are filled with lustful intent, your eyes watering with need as you beg her to take you in every way with your dazed expression, and so she does. the sex is messy and oh so desperate. even with the car ac, you both can't help but to feel so hot, even if you're fully naked. her hands are js as greedy as yours, clutching grabbing grasping scratching at skin, pulling each other as close as physically possible.

moans fill the car as you finger each other, your digits drilling in and out of your friend's pussy, her's mimicking your movements, need evident on your faces. forehead to forehead with her as you both release pleasurable noises onto each other's mouths, on her lap as one hand is in her hair, the other thrusting into her, her hand digging into your waist as she fucks you with no remorse. cumming insanely hard on each other, immediately switching to rubbing clits tgt, using each other's slick to slide on the other's pussy. the sensations are so intense and yet neither of you care that it's too soon, that the overstimulation was too much, you both needed each other in an almost primal way, like two animals in heat.

most certainly filled with love bombs, confessing how much she's needed this, how badly she's been waiting for you, how much she has thought about doing this, and you reciprocate the sentiments, rambling against her tongue about dreaming of this day, touching yourself thinking of her, being addicted to everything that has to do with her. every climax you both would slur I love yous repeatedly, screaming each other's names and holding each other close. so much panting, moaning, pathetic begging from both like fuck you feel so good please don't fucking stop or I'm so close I'm so close just a little more please please. her taste is js as sweet as her name on your tongue, and you couldn't wait to get more, never having nearly enough. an exciting summer indeed.

[ghostgirl-22]

Hiii ik you’ve heard this before but you literally write the yummiest Artrick smut!! Their dynamic is sooo good

I was thinking about Art and Patrick trying frotting for the first time? Maybe they’re dry humping and then Art’s really getting desperate and Pat suggests they do it skin-to-skin? Penny for your thoughts!!

I thank you anon! I love you and I apologize for getting to this so late <33

CW: 18+, NSFW, Patrick my little pining baby.

—-

I think it’s Patrick’s birthday some random Thursday night in January and Patrick makes Art come out with him on the day because he’s gonna celebrate with Tashi on the weekend. Art’s in a bad mood at first. He tries to pretend he isn’t but Patrick knows he’s still annoyed that Patrick has her.

“I can’t stay out late.” Art says coolly. “So if you want a real celebration with me… maybe you shoulda went out to eat with her midweek instead.”

“You want to come out to eat with us this weekend?” Patrick smirks, rubbing his back. “Just a romantic dinner. Me, my girlfriend and my best friend. Probably the most romantic thing ever.”

“Fuck off,” Art shrugs him away. They’re going to a frat party. Art knows one of the frats has insane parties every night of the week which Patrick says is pretty impressive.

“Only reason to join that frat is if you plan to take at least five or six years to graduate from a four year program.” Art says, judgmentally. “Actually, it’s probably what you’d pledge if you went here.”

Patrick lets him be bitchy and goes to get them both drinks. As Art gets tipsy he starts to loosen up. He’s getting drunk on Jell-O shots. His lips turning red and his cheeks flushing. His eyes go all moon shaped when he’s giggly. Patrick is a little obsessed, wants to make him giggle more. They get drunk enough to dance. Both of them dancing together and then dancing with various college girls. Patrick avoiding it when one of the girls leans in to kiss him. She kisses Art instead before her friend grabs her. They both giggle with each other and run to get more shots.

Art’s looking after them dazed and so drunk… Patrick grabs him away. They go to the dj table and request Apple Bottom Jeans for the third time and everyone cheers when it comes back on.

It’s dark and loud, strobe lights going off and Patrick realizes how drunk Art is when they’re on the sofa and he’s leaning on Patrick, nibbling at his throat. Patrick feels warm, hot even, he tangles his fingers into Art’s golden curls to keep him there. “I wanna lie down,” Art sighs in his ear after a minute. Which leads to Patrick guiding him upstairs in the frat house, the bass from the music thrumming through the house even though it’s much quieter upstairs. There’s a couple making out in the hallway. Some girls hooking up in the the bathroom tub while another girl is dozing off on the toilet seat.

Patrick finds an empty room and Art falls onto the bed. Patrick shuts the door and crawls on the bed, lying down next to him and before he realizes what’s happening Art climbs on top of him. “‘M so horny,” he groans, eyes half closed, dizzy drunk and barely aware of what he’s doing. Patrick is immediately hard. He thought he knew everything about Art but this is fucking new. Art is humping him through the fabric of their jeans, grinding, rutting, like a fucking animal in heat. Breathing hard, moaning loudly, chasing his orgasm. It’s so fucking hot.

”Oh fuck,” Patrick breathes. “Holy shit.”

“Mm wanna come Patrick, please. I need it.” Art whines.

“Fuck, mmkay. Come here… maybe we need… need more friction.”

”mm, yeah, please,” Art gasps.

“Yeah? Let’s…” Patrick grabs at Art’s zipper, swallowing hard. He’s had weird dreams about fucking Art for quite some time, weird wet dreams where he’s made a mess of him. So many dirty dreams this feels like deja vu.

But this is better than the dreams. Best fucking birthday ever. He’s easing it out of Art’s boxers. He’s seen it of course. When he didn’t need anything in his head to make himself cum… just the sight of the messy blond boy on the bed across from him spilling it too quickly all over himself. Always dazed by it. It was enough to send Patrick into the stratosphere, every fucking time.

And now he’s touching it, gripping it. Swollen purplepink, and heavy. He undoes his own pants. Art’s thrusting into his fist, eager. Hips rolling.

“Skin to skin, gonna feel so good,” Patrick mumbles, it’s nonsense. He’s half out of his mind. He takes hold of his own cock, lined up along Art’s and starts fisting them both. Art on top of him, the only sound is the endless thumping of the music, the squeaking of the bed inline with their hips rocking, and the breathy moans spilling from their mouths.

“Oh fuck. Oh yes,” Art whispers. He has his eyes closed but Patrick can’t stop staring at him. Lips parted, chest heaving, face flushed, hair falling into his eyes, clothes all disheveled. He’s leaning back, palms resting on Patrick’s thighs so he can thrust his cock mindlessly up against Patrick’s. So hot Patrick might die. And then, as always, it’s taking him by surprise. Come spurting out of him, covering Patrick’s fingers, his t-shirt. He’s whining and moaning and gasping “Fuck… oh fuck…yes…”

Patrick’s not far behind him. His fist now coated in jizz he’s gripping them both tighter, fisting them faster. Art’s making these breathless little “oh” noises, so delicious it makes Patrick shiver and then he’s seizing up, his balls tightening as he spills hot sticky strings of pearly come all over his palm, Art’s jeans and his own t-shirt.

“God it’s so fucking hot, you’re so fucking hot….” Patrick whispers, breathlessly as Art settles sleepy onto his chest. Patrick wipes his dirty palm on the bed and ponders vaguely the poor frat boy who’s gonna be taking this blanket to the laundromat. He kisses Art’s mouth, the way he’s always wanted to, and Art sighs into it. He’s got the hiccups all of a sudden, little ones escaping between kisses which is actually kinda fucking adorable. Art rolls off of him eventually, curling up on his side. “Need to…*hiccup*… so sleepy.” He mumbles.

Patrick sighs, looking up at the ceiling as Art starts to drift off. They’ve been drunk as fuck before, even spooned in bed together, but never like this. He’s not sure what just happened but he thinks he’ll go crazy if Art has no memory of it when he wakes up.

[reidphobic]

Hi! Are you still doing the prompt thing? If so, can you do #16. Reader days to Spencer when he goes to touch himself, while reader is pegging him?

mdni. cw: pegging (obvs), mommy kink (again, obvs), mild degradation. prompts here.

wc: 437. anon i love u and ur beautiful mind mwah

the sight of spencer on his back under you absolutely never gets old. his legs wrapped around your waist, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, the soft moans spilling from his lips. “how ya feeling, honey?” you tease, your hips flush against his and the silicone toy fixed to your hips buried to its hilt inside him. spencer moans unintelligibly, back arching and hips jerking as he tries desperately to fuck himself down on you. “feeling good? you love mommy’s dick, huh? such a good little slut for me, baby, c’mon, tell me how you feel.”

“feels… y’feel… s’so good, mommy, so good,” spencer whines, chest heaving with desperate breaths. you pump your hips faster, deeper, moaning like you can really feel him tight around you. a red flush spreads down spencer’s chest, tears spilling across his cheeks. his nails dig into your shoulders, clawing helplessly at your skin.

you kiss him softly, a sweet press of lips incongruous from the brutal pace of your hips. he’s drooling a little, dazed and dizzy, sweat dripping across his brow. his hands drift down his body, a moan slipping from his lips as he wraps them around his cock, bucks up into his fist. “ah-ah,” you chide, “no, you don’t get to touch, honey. or d’you think i can’t make you cum all by myself?” you pout, slowly pulling out and stilling your hips.

spencer gasps, shakes his head wildly. “n-no. i mean— i don’t think that. m’sorry, mommy. i won’t touch. i want you to make me cum, please,” he whimpers, and the sound is so delicious that you take pity on him, slam your hips against his. a scream tears from his throat, and you kiss it out of his mouth, bite on his bottom lip a little.

“so good for me, sweetness, so good for mommy,” you murmur, brushing sweat-soaked hair away from his face with one hand. “oh, baby,” you murmur after a few more slow, deep thrusts. “you’re close, huh? c’mon, tell mommy what you want.”

“wanna cum,” spencer pleads, hips jerking and body writhing. “mommy, please!” you smirk, gently trailing your hand down his body and fucking deeply into him. three more quick, sharp thrusts and he’s coming apart under you, cum splashing between your bodies as he chants your name like it’s the only word he knows.

you fuck him through, kissing soft whines out of his mouth as he comes to. “you look so pretty falling apart on my dick, honey,” you coo. “gonna give you a minute, get you cleaned up, ‘n then you can fuck me, okay?”

[kireilien]

hi lien! hope i’m not making your inbox too overfilled 😣 i would love love love a thought on 69 with maki! (especially if he goes too crazy on you and it just ends up you face sitting on him kkkkk) thank you! love your works 🙂‍↕️

oh my goddddd anonnnnn this is sooooo hotttt maki is SUCH a 69-to-face-sitting warrior FUCK i can’t even also anon you’re okay i ♡︎ writing love letters hehe thank you!

tw/cw. nsfw content, cursing; dom!maki, sub!reader, fem!reader, race neutral reader, oral (both receiving), ass play, spit?, 69-ing, face sitting, degradation (it’s been a fat min lol), spanking, cum play, use of “baby”

maki is one fine but annoying ahh shyt.

you’re backing your ass onto him, he’s palming at your ass cheeks. you’re lining your mouth against him, he’s spreading his legs wider. you two hum before you sink your mouth on him and he opens his mouth on you.

it’s going smoothly, your mouth is dribbling with spit as you jerk the rest of his cock you can’t fit in your mouth. while he laps at your sweetness, making sure his tongue is leaving figure eights around your leaking hole.

but of course, maki can’t help himself.

your asshole is left alone, begging to be played with!

maki sneakily pecks at it.

then licks it.

then sucks at it.

you’re jolting from the sensation each time. maki knows your ass is sensitive and he’s still playing with it as if he’s always eaten your ass like this. your grip on his cock falters as your mouth stops sucking on him. your head is resting at the base of his cock, your mind is too cloudy of how maki is tongue fucking you so well. “aww baby, tapping out already? thought my baby could throat me properly than being so dumb already…” maki groans as nudges you with his knee.

the nudge makes you sort of snap out of it. you could only drool on his tip before your mind gets hazy again. your soaking maki’s face, but he doesn’t mind. he loves how you’re putting your whole weight on him. just dazed on his cock, your plush tits are flesh against him, your legs are almost giving out too.

“that’s okay, baby. yeah— you love how this tongue makes you so dizzy, huh? you’re makin’ me all— messy and you don’t even care. all you need me to do is make this pussy a fucking mess outta you— that’s what you want.” maki’s constant spitting his words against you’re cunt and you’re loving it.

that doesn’t mean maki doesn’t play with you either. he’s smacking your ass constantly, making you jolt up from his cock, which makes your throat vibrate against him. squishing at the flesh, making sure you feel the pads of his fingers almost melting into your skin. his tongue running over your clit all the way up back to your asshole. it’s so dreamy ♡︎

when it’s finally maki’s turn when he’s about to cum (since you’ve came at least twice by now), you can feel his cock twitching in your spit coated mouth. you release the hold of you mouth to weakly jack him off, just so his spurts of cum cover your face. it even coats your eyelids, dripping back down to your chin.

you constantly tell him that next him when you 69, you’ll put in the work but, maki knows you won’t. he doesn’t mind though! he gets to eat your pussy until you’re fucked out from his tongue alone! such a win!

back 2 maki catalog

[82sim]

GAME OVER

wc 334 ° • ★ . ° • chenle x fem!reader

the neon lights flickered overhead as y/n crouched behind a barrier, gripping her laser gun tightly. her heart pounded—not just from the game, but from the fact that somewhere in the dark, chenle was hunting her down.

and knowing him, he was enjoying every second of it.

“you can run,” his voice echoed through the maze, smooth and cocky, “but you can’t hide forever, baby.”

y/n rolled her eyes, trying to steady her breath. he was always like this—smug, competitive, and way too good at everything. the worst part? he made it look effortless.

she peeked around the corner, scanning for any sign of him—

but before she could react, a hand grabbed her wrist, yanking her back into the shadows.

a gasp left her lips as her back hit the wall, chenle’s body pressing against hers, his laser vest glowing in the dim light. his smirk was pure arrogance, his eyes filled with mischief.

“gotcha,” he murmured, voice low and teasing.

y/n swallowed hard, pulse skyrocketing. “that’s not fair—”

“oh, it’s completely fair,” he interrupted, tilting his head slightly. “you just weren’t fast enough.”

she glared up at him, but it was hard to focus when he was this close—when she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin, see the teasing curve of his lips. he was enjoying this way too much.

and then, before she could fully process what was happening, chenle leaned in and kissed her.

it was sudden, dizzying, and completely unfair. his lips moved against hers with the same confidence he carried everywhere, stealing the breath straight from her lungs. his hands framed her face, holding her there like he had all the time in the world.

then, just as quickly as he had kissed her, he pulled back, his lips curving into a smirk as he lifted his laser gun.

beep

her vest flashed red.

chenle winked, stepping back. “game over, baby.”

and with that, he sauntered away, leaving y/n breathless, dazed, and completely doomed.

hi i love u chenle AND THE PERSON WHO MADE THE CHENLE ANON IM GETTING TO IT I PROMISE!!!

taglist @holyhaech @chenlezip @injvns @mrkified @narcisstict @polarisjisung

[birdie-in-arcadia]

Provider

This was a request, and boy did I love writing it :) I hope it's up to par with what you were looking for anon! Enjoy <3

Content Warning: heavy, detailed smut, dom!III + !sub fem reader, oral (fem receiving), multiple or!gasms, p in v, heavy fluff and aftercare

Word Count: 3.4k

The front door shuts with a soft click, a gentle, final sort of sound, and the silence that follows is loaded. For a moment, it just hangs there, quiet as a mouse, but the feeling of being watched settles low in your gut, and it's then that you know. He’s watching me. 

Then you hear it. The creak of the floorboards behind you. The slow, deliberate footsteps of a man with intention. You don't need to turn around to know it's II; there's a certain weight to the way he moves, a casual confidence that always betrays his presence. It slinks through the house like smoke, curling around your senses, heating you from the inside out. 

He doesn't say anything at first. He just watches. You can feel the intensity of it; the way his eyes drag across the back of your neck, down your spine, as if he’s already peeling you open with just a look. You’re still by the kitchen counter, where you’d leaned moments ago to wave the boys off, pretending like you weren’t already aching for this exact moment. But now that it’s here, now that the house is empty and the air has thickened and it’s just the two of you, it’s hard to breathe. 

You don't dare move. Then, softly, like velvet drawn over skin: “There she is.” You exhale, shivering, something primal awakening in you as goosebumps spread over your skin. 

His voice is deeper tonight. Rougher. Like it’s dipped in honey and smoke, dragged through the heat of the stage lights and hours of giving his all. And now, finally, he’s off the leash of touring. 

He comes up behind you slowly, but not lazily. Deliberately. His hands are on you before your brain catches up; one palm settling low on your hip, the other sliding up your side to graze your ribcage. His chest meets your back a moment later, warm and solid and so fucking steady, like a wall built just for you to fall against. 

You melt without even realizing that you are. Your head tilts instinctively, offering your neck, and he doesn’t waste the invitation. His lips brush the shell of your ear first, teasing, before dragging down to your pulse point, open-mouthed, just barely wet. 

“I’ve been waiting all month for this,” he murmurs, voice dark and reverent. “Watching you every damn night we had a show, standing side-stage, knowing I’d have you like this again.” Your breath catches. 

“Alone,” he adds, his teeth grazing lightly over your skin. “Just us. No distractions. No schedule.” You nod, though it feels like your thoughts are already dissolving. “I’ve wanted this too, you have no idea.” 

He hums, pleased, and then his hands tighten. You yelp, quiet and startled as he spins you in one smooth motion, backs you into the counter. The marble edge digs into your spine, but you barely notice. You’re already dizzy from the closeness, the fire in his eyes, the tension in his jaw as he looks at you like he’s starved. 

“You’ve no idea what you do to me,” he says, low. “Standing there all night in that little dress, knowing I can’t touch you until they leave for pints. Smiling at the others, hugging them like you’re just besties. And I’m meant to just sit back?” 

You try to speak, but he kisses you first, hard and sudden and deep. His mouth moves over yours like he owns it, like it’s the only way he knows how to breathe. His fingers thread through your hair, gripping at the base of your skull, angling your head just how he wants it. 

There’s no room to think. No space for anything but him. When he pulls back, you’re gasping. He leans in again, breath hot against your cheek. “Upstairs. Now.” You nod, dazed, legs already trembling. r. 

As you clear the threshold of the bedroom you share with him, he stops you halfway to the bed, grabbing your wrist and spinning you back toward him. His mouth crashes against yours again as he walks you backward, one step at a time, until your knees buckle into the edge of the bed, and you drop down hard with a little squeak. 

He lays you down instantly, his hand on your chest gently guiding you backwards, his body weighing down the bed around you as he moves to hover over you. He kisses you deeply, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip, asking for entry. You grant him such, and your tongues tangle and fight for dominance. He groans into your mouth as his tongue wins, and he licks into your mouth as if he’s learning you by taste. As if you haven’t been doing this song and dance for the last ten months that you’ve been with II.  

His hands are on your thighs now, pushing them apart, thumbs stroking gentle lines against the sensitive skin. Your shorts ride up as he spreads you open, and he watches with a hunger that makes your whole body tense. 

“You’ve been so good for me,” he murmurs, dragging his nails lightly up the inside of your leg. “Waited so sweetly. You know how proud that makes me?” 

You whimper, nodding. “Yes, sir.” That does something to him; you see it flash in his eyes, feel it in the way his grip tightens. He leans in, lips brushing against your knee as he speaks. 

“That’s my girl.” He purrs as his fingers hook in the waistband of your jean shorts, and you lift your hips instinctually. Your centre pulses, pooling with wetness as your heart rate picks up and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. He drags your shorts down your legs, past your ankles and feet, and flings them somewhere across the room. 

He turns back to look at you, and his gaze is dark and ravenous. He looks you up and down and licks his lips, and he looks nearly animalistic. “Take off your panties, baby.” A simple command that you oblige instantly wriggling out of them and discarding them in the general direction of your shorts. 

He smirks down at you as he removes his own shirt, revealing his toned yet still soft upper body. He’s truly beautiful, and you can’t wait to trace every divot with your tongue. You hold your knees together; a nervous behavior he’s been trying to help you escape. 

He leans forward slightly and places his warm hands on your knees, gently pulling them apart. “It’s okay, my love. Let me see you.” he coos, and you obey mindlessly, his smooth, deep voice putting you into a trance-like state. Your thighs are now completely separated and pressed to the mattress, baring you to him. He takes in the sight of you, and you watch his erection tenting in his joggers. “So fucking gorgeous, darling... Look at you...” he says lowly to you, his voice smooth and velvety. He kisses up your inner thigh, slow, deliberate, and unhurried.  

Your breath hitches every time his mouth touches down. He doesn’t even flinch at how sensitive you are, how easily your body responds to him now. Instead, he uses it. He strokes his tongue across your skin in firm, wet lines that make you tremble, humming low against you like he’s tasting something he’s missed for far too long. 

Then he pauses just before reaching the apex of your thighs. You’re aching for him, desperate for friction, and he knows it. And still, he waits. 

You lift your hips a little, involuntarily, seeking touch, relief, anything. But his hands are already pressing you down again, fingers curling over your thighs to keep you still. 

“So impatient,” he murmurs against your skin. “Where’d my good girl go?” Your eyes flutter open, wide and pleading. “I’m trying, baby, but please...” you whisper. He smirks, wicked and fond all at once. “You are. You’re doing so well for me.” 

Then, finally, finally, he gives in. His mouth meets you where you need him most; hot, greedy, and starving. His tongue strokes you in long, firm licks that leave you gasping, clutching at the comforter underneath you, trembling like your body barely knows how to handle this kind of touch. 

He doesn’t let up. Not when your moans turn breathless. Not when your legs start to shake and one orgasm turns to two. Not even when you beg. “Please... please, I can’t- can’t take it...” 

“Yes, you can,” he murmurs, fingers joining his mouth now, curling just right, finding that spot inside you that makes your back arch off the bed, your body on the verge of convulsing. “You can take it. Gimme one more baby, you can do it.” 

The wave crashes through you fast and hard, your voice coming out as a cry. Your legs clamp around his shoulders as you shatter beneath his touch, the pressure of his mouth never once easing until you’re twitching and whimpering and spent. 

Only then does he pull back, mouth glistening, eyes heavy with lust and pride. He wipes his thumb across his lower lip, then drags it into his mouth with a satisfied hum. “So fucking sweet.” 

Your head lolls to the side, chest rising and falling in sharp little bursts, mind empty yet buzzing with the overwhelming, overstimulating pleasure coursing through your nerve-endings.  

You barely register him standing, his joggers and boxers hitting the floor, his cock springing free and slapping his stomach as he pumps himself a couple of times, slow and teasing. Then he’s back on top of you, hands already tugging your shirt up over your shoulders and head, mouth finding yours again with dizzying intensity. 

“You ready for me, love?” he asks, voice low and serious now, all the teasing gone. You nod instantly, voice wrecked and panting. “Yes. Please.” He groans against your neck. “That’s my girl.” 

He lines up with your soaking, aching entrance, then he eases himself inside your cunt, burying himself in your wetness. A husky groan escapes his lips as your walls tighten around him, and you cry out in pleasure. 

The stretch is perfect, just enough to burn in all the best ways and fill the void created by your three orgasms. He holds still for a moment, forehead pressed to yours, letting you adjust. One of his hands cradles the side of your face like you’re something fragile, too precious to rush. 

“You feel incredible,” he breathes. “Every fucking time, I swear it only gets better.” 

He pulls back just enough to thrust forward again, slow and steady at first. You gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist, drawing him in deeper. 

He sets a rhythm that’s punishing and precise, each stroke hitting something deep and needy inside you, each one designed to wreck you a little more. His hand slips down between you, rubbing slow circles that push you higher and higher while he fucks you through it. 

“You’re taking me so well, princess,” he pants. “So fucking perfect for me.” 

You’re gone for him. Absolutely undone. You claw at his back, gasping, pleading, whispering his name like it’s the only thing you know. 

And still he keeps going, eyes locked on yours, watching every expression cross your face as you fall apart for him again. 

“Cum for me,” he says, rough and commanding. “Now.” And it’s like a switch is flipped in your brain. A switch that he wired in. 

Your fourth orgasm rips through you like a shockwave; blinding, overwhelming, and consuming. You shake, sobbing his name into his shoulder, clutching him like you’ll fly apart if you let go. 

He groans low in your ear, rhythm stuttering as he chases his own release. “God, I wanna fill you up,” he growls. “Fuck, baby... Lemme show you you’re mine.” 

His voice breaks on the last word, and then he’s spilling inside you with a long, shuddering moan, body tense against yours, every muscle tight. 

You both stay there for a moment, tangled and panting. The world comes back in pieces. 

The warmth of his breath against your collarbone. The steady thump of his heart against your chest. The way his fingers cradle your jaw as if to anchor you back to earth. 

When he finally speaks, his voice is soft again. “You alright, love?” 

You nod, barely able to speak. “Yeah. I’m… wow.” 

He laughs, a low, fond sound, and kisses your forehead. “You’re perfect.” 

He slips out of you gently, groaning a little at the loss of warmth, and pulls your shirt back down to cover you. You’re already starting to tremble, muscles twitching with leftover adrenaline and strain. He tells you he’ll be right back as he walks over into the bathroom right off the bedroom you share. You hear running water in the tub, and you know what he’s doing. You smile and close your eyes, eternally grateful for this man and the way he treats you – and fucks you. 

You try to sit up when he comes back in, but you nearly fall off the edge of the bed. He sees it immediately. “Alright, no more moving,” he says, his voice shifting into full caretaker mode. “I’ve got you.” 

Before you can protest, he’s scooping you up in his arms again, warm, safe, strong, and carrying you out of the room like something precious. 

You press your face into his neck and just breathe. You don’t need to ask where he’s taking you. You already smell the rosewater bubble soap. 

Your head rests against his shoulder as he carries you, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you deeper into that floaty, post-high haze. Your limbs feel heavy, sated and shaky, and yet somehow, safe. Like you’re allowed to drift, because he’ll hold you. 

He doesn’t say much as he walks into the bathroom with you. He doesn’t need to. The warmth of his body, the quiet press of his lips to your temple, the soft, reverent way he holds you; it's all speaking for him. 

You smell it before you see it. Gentle, floral, and the clean, damp scent of hot bath water. The bathroom is already glowing, dim with amber light. One soft lamp, no harsh bulbs, and candles flickering low on the windowsill. The tub is nearly full, steam curling over the edges, bubbles thick and pearlescent, catching the light like something out of a dream. 

“You really ran me a bubble bath?” you murmur, drowsy and blinking up at him, gratitude emerging in your tone. He grins. “Figured I got all you sore and wrecked, so I started it when I came in here to get you a towel.” You snort, the sound weak but warm. “Confident.” 

“Correct,” he teases, kissing your forehead. “Now hush. Let me take care of you.” He sets you down gently on the closed lid of the loo, his hands slow and careful as they help guide your legs to rest. You watch, mesmerized, as he moves around the room with quiet efficiency; checking the temperature of the water, adjusting the tap, adding a few more petals from a little dish on the counter. 

He kneels in front of you again, eyes scanning your face, your skin, your posture. His hands skim your thighs like he’s reading your body, searching for anything he might’ve missed. 

“You’re trembling,” he says, more to himself than you. “I’m alright,” you whisper. “I know.” He leans in and kisses the top of your knee. “But I want you better than alright.” 

He helps you out of what’s left of your shirt woth slow, tender movements, like you’re made of glass; a complete contrast to the way he was manhandling you just moments ago, coaxing multiple climaxes from your spent body. His eyes don’t leave yours, even when you’re bare before him, even when you shift, self-conscious in the soft light. He doesn’t leer. He doesn’t ogle. 

He looks at you like you’re art. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, thumb grazing your cheekbone. “So fucking beautiful.” You smile, flushed and exhausted and loved to pieces. 

When he stands, he offers both hands. You take them, letting him pull you up, and he holds your weight easily as he steps into the tub first, naked, hair slightly tousled from your grip. He lowers himself, settling back against the far end, then reaches for you. “C’mere, angel.” 

You climb in slowly, your legs shaky and your muscles thrumming from earlier. The heat of the water envelopes you instantly, coaxing a moan from your lips as you lower yourself into the bubbles. You settle his lap, adjusting yourself so that your back is to his chest, and he wraps his arms around you like a blanket. 

It’s perfect. The bath, the soothing warmth, the feel of his body behind you, cradling you gently between his thighs. His hands find your stomach, your hips, drawing idle patterns into your damp skin as if to remind you he’s still there, and you’re still safe. 

You let your head fall back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. He kisses your temple, your cheek, your neck; soft, slow, no rush. Just devotion. 

“You were incredible tonight,” he whispers. You hum. “You always say that.” 

“Because it’s always true.” His hand dips the cloth into the water, then trails it over your skin; your collarbone, your arms, the curve of your shoulder. He’s methodical about it, but unhurried. You can feel the care in every movement. The cloth is soft, the water hotter toward the edges, cooler where it laps between your bodies. 

When he gets to your thighs, you shiver. “Too much?” he asks quietly. “No,” you breathe. “Feels nice.” He continues, gentler still, wiping between your legs, around the marks he left there with his mouth, his fingers, and just the aching stretch of his body inside yours. 

You gasp softly when he touches a particularly tender spot. “Sorry, baby,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder. “Didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“You didn’t,” you say, eyes still closed. “You just… gave me everything... And my body is um... recovering,” you murmur, chuckling at the last few words. 

He stills behind you for a moment, and you can feel the emotion move through him, his breath catching, the way his arms tighten just a little more. 

“You give me everything,” he says, voice quieter now. “Every time, bedroom-wise or not. And I’ll never take it for granted.” 

You twist to look back at him, turning just enough to catch his face, lit gold by candlelight, soft with affection. He looks at you like he’s thinking a dozen things but doesn’t know how to say any of them. So you say it for him. 

“I love you.” He exhales and his eyes close, his lips finding your shoulder as his head drops in relaxation, and he places a few sweet kisses along the soft curve of your shoulder. 

“I love you too, baby.” You lean back as he leans forward to meet you, kissing him slow and sweet. Not hungry or rushed. Just love, poured into him through every movement of your mouth, every stroke of your hand against his cheek. 

When you finally part, he nudges his nose against yours. “Let’s get you rinsed and into bed,” he whispers. “I’ve got your favorite shirt warming by the radiator, and I’ll change the sheets. And I am not... going... anywhere.” he whispers, punctuating every word with a kiss to your neck. 

“Promise?” you ask, lost in the sensation of his lips on you. “Swear on the mask,” he says with a smirk. You laugh, full and breathless now. 

He drains the water while keeping you wrapped up against him, then lifts you from the bath like it’s nothing, carrying you to the plush towel he laid out earlier. You brace yourself on the wall near the tub as he dries you gently, thoroughly, then helps you into the oversized shirt that smells like him; warm cotton, sandalwood, a hint of the rosewater still clinging to your skin. When he tucks you into bed, you’re limp and smiling. 

You watch him disappear into the hallway for a moment, only to return with a glass of water and your favorite snack from the cupboard. He sets them on the nightstand, then climbs in beside you, gathering you into his arms like you belong there. 

You do. You absolutely do. You always have. As sleep tugs at the edges of your mind, you hear his voice again; soft and steady, spoken into the quiet space between your breaths. 

“You’re mine, my angel,” he says. “And I’m yours. Always.” And then, nothing. 

Just warmth, safety, and the slow, steady beat of his heart, lulling you to sleep. 

@yourgirlisa @houseofsleeptoken here you go! Let me know if you'd like to be added here :)

[slytherinshua]

LEAVING ME BREATHLESS

genre. fluff. warnings. kissing. pairing. leehan x fem!reader. wc. 773. request. requested by anon: Hi! I love your work, can I request first kiss with Leehan? a/n. this made me a lil too delulu sigh........ hes just the standard??

Ever since Leehan had asked you out, your anxious mind couldn’t help but think of kissing him. You wanted to, probably more than anything. But you had never kissed anyone before. You were completely inexperienced with everything that had to do with relationships and dating and love. And even when you tried to get advice from your friends, your brain always went completely blank when you were in front of him.

The problem was that he was too pretty. Pretty enough to make you forget your own name. His hair had grown longer since you first met him and it made your heart race faster than the speed of light in your chest from the way it fell over his eyes. And when he smiled at you? You might as well be in your coffin already.

The thought of kissing him had been plaguing your mind for 2 weeks. He had officially become your boyfriend just 3 weeks ago, and after the first week passed by, you started to get used to being in a relationship more. 

When was the right time for a first kiss? 

When did he want to kiss you? 

Did he want to kiss you at all?

No, that was a stupid question. With the way you caught him staring at your lips most days, you were sure he did. That made it even worse for your poor lovesick heart. To know that he was actually just as in love with you as you were him was a thought that made you almost dizzy.

Kissing couldn’t be that hard, right? You just had to put your lips on his. That was all there was to it… right? But what if it was more complicated than you had imagined? What if your breath smelled, or your lips were chapped, or you were awkward?

All of these questions raced in your mind as you walked up to the front of your house, hand tangled with Leehan’s. With the thought that you would have more time to think about it clearly when he said goodbye to you, you were able to clear your head enough to turn to him.

“Thank you for today. It was fun.” You offered him a big smile, and he mirrored it immediately. You caught his tongue slipping out to lick his lips, and in an instant, your calm demeanour was lost. Your heart raced in your chest and you tried to gulp down the new nerves. Your gaze couldn’t drift away from his lips, now moistened and looking very inviting.

But as much as you wanted to lean in right then and there, you were way too scared to make the first move. Leehan caught on to your nervousness immediately, as well as your stare.

“You thinking about something?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

Your eyes shot up to his eyes instead of his lips, and you stepped back subconsciously. Was he always that close to your face?

“No, it’s nothing!” You smiled nervously and turned towards your front door, “I should go insi-”

You felt a hand on your shoulder, and the next thing you knew, you were spun around, your back resting against the door and the same pair of lips you had been staring at so intently pressed up against yours. You were completely caught by surprise, and let out a small yelp before all sound was lost in the kiss.

Your heart had never raced this fast. You closed your eyes, trying to memorise the feeling of his lips moving against yours; his hands holding your shoulders gently yet firmly against the door; a section of his hair falling down to tickle the skin on your forehead. His lips tasted like cherries, and they felt soft and plush. The feeling summoned butterflies to your stomach, and though you had been extremely nervous minutes ago, you finally relaxed into the feeling and pulled him even closer.

He pulled away, a soft chuckle leaving his mouth, and you slowly opened your eyes. The kiss had left you breathless, and with your mind in a daze, you could barely process anything except how beautiful he looked.

“I think I smudged your lip gloss.” He whispered, his eyes glossy and his lips upturned in a gentle smile.

You let out a laugh and reached up to try to wipe off any product that had smudged, “Did I get it?”

He hummed and shook his head, “You missed a spot.” Instead of wiping off wherever you had missed like you would expect, your boyfriend pressed his lips to yours, stealing all your breath once again.

↳ boynextdoor taglist: @rizzshimura,, @captivq,, @icyminghao,, @eternalgyu,, @metalchick529,, @schmocolateschmchip,, @kpoprhia,, @candewlsy,, @weird-bookworm,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @snowflakemoon3

[thoughtsforsoob]

Hii! I was wondering if you could do beomgyu fingering you under the table at a restaurant? Tyyy!!

a/n: hehe thank you for this anon! im going to try my best to make this good! inbox is always open!

beomgyu had invited you to dinner with the boys on this particular night. you agreed because you were excited to see the boys again and hang out with your boyfriend at the same time. so, when time rolled around to get to dinner, beomgyu had told you to get ready and that he was going to pick you up from your apartment. Having been told that, you immediately pick out your cute outfit (whatever you wanna wear) and start to do a little hairstyle and some makeup. beomgyu never expected you to dress up or even do any kind of makeup but it made you feel happy so you did it anyway. 

When you were done doing all your steps to get ready, you met him outside and you both headed down to the restaurant together. nothing seemed different or out of place on the way so you were greatly surprised when you felt a hand on your thigh while appetizers were coming to the table. sure, beomgyu had occasionally rested his hand there but it only meant one of two things. 1, it was just a coincidence or 2, he was going to finger you. you were really hoping for it to just be a coincidence since everyone was surrounding you. you continued to make conversation with the boys despite this action. your face hadn’t changed in expression so you were good.

while finishing up your appetizers, you were talking to soobin about a bread recipe you wanted to try (you were asking if he wanted some when you eventually made it). suddenly, you feel a slim finger tracing up and down your slit, stopping at your clit to add extra stimulation, you bit your lip just a bit. soobin raised an eyebrow with concern, “are you okay?” you nod and let go of your lip. “sorry. im getting a cramp in my thigh.” you looked down at your legs and then back up at him. “I'm sorry.” he shook his head and frowned, “don’t apologize. you can’t help it. Are you going to be alright?” you nod and with that, you two continued your conversation. you left feeling the gently finger rubbing up your slit through your panties until beomgyu finally pushed then aside discreetly and slid a finger in. you looked over at him with wide eyes and leaned closer to his ear. “why?” you whispered lowly and he just gave you a smile, kissing your forehead. you felt dizzy from the whiplash his actions were causing you. He was completely disrespecting you under the table and being such a gentleman above the table. The boys hadn’t really been suspecting anything until you started to fade out of the conversation, eyes fixated on beomgyu. Taehyun was the one to speak up and ask if there was something wrong between you two. You immediately snap out of your daze and shake your head. “Oh no, he’s just really handsome.” They all playfully gagged at your answer and Taehyun was the one who remained suspicious. He didn't want to say what he was thinking but he gave beomgyu ‘the look’ and beomgyu gave it back to him. This made you suddenly extremely shy. 

Beomgyu’s movements did not falter as he locked eyes with taehyun. You didn't know what to think but you felt yourself teetering over the edge of an orgasm. You looked to beomgyu and he looked down at you. He knew exactly what you wanted because of the squeezing of his fingers. He just nodded and you leaned against him, letting yourself go. You tried to not make it so obvious but at this point, everyone at the table was watching you look absolutely blissed out. They didn't even want to ask what had gone on because they more or less had an idea. They just stared at you two as beomgyu raised his hand back up, trying not to draw attention to himself from the rest of the restaurant as he licked his drenched fingers.

(part two with a gangbang???? Guys i'm so tempted please make me do it)

[dadsbongos]

Idk if u do anon requests given ur rules but I am a scared lil guy when it comes to sending ppl asks. I know you don't need to feel obligated to write it, but I wanted to share my silly little musings with someone at least, if you don't mind ^^

My brain doesn't want to shut up about the idea of a monster reader akin to Anansi's goatman joining the Touden party with malintent, only to be intimidated out of their plans by the fact the party constantly eats monsters. Despite them wanting to run, they're stuck there because the party will realize they've been infiltrated and probably eat them like all the other monsters if they find out.

i absolutely love anon requests! they are so lovely to receive i just kind of write depending on my current interest at the moment

3.4 k words / warnings - gore right off the bat, reader goes through psychological horror at the hands of laios touden, laios forcing the party into extreme situations

summary - that time laios domesticated a monster and everyone was mad at him. ~~~

You’re starving. You’re parched. You’re dizzy.

A woman is screaming in the corner, her eyes bulging from her head and hands clamped over her gaping mouth. Knees wobbling before she collapses to the ground, palms scraping against the floor in a final ditch effort to save herself. She screams louder when your head slowly rolls -- slanted eyes still on her frantic form.

Long fingers scoop from the bowl of a half-foot’s gut, you cup shreds of meat and stringing firm, warm innards to your mouth while maintaining focus on the woman.

No matter how much you eat, you’re starving. No matter what you drink, you’re parched.

The only solace you find in hearty meals is that the pressurized ache behind your skull fades, and with it goes the dazed sensation. You can walk firm and tall. You can stretch out and speak.

You can speak, “Come… here…”

She freezes. Wide eyes scrambling over you. Chest twitching with hyperventilation, “We gave you the half-foot! What else do you want?!”

Swallowing chunks of gummy flesh trapped in your teeth, you speak again, “Come… Now… Come…”

“No, please,” she whimpers, snot and tears dripping, “Please, please, please!”

She rocks onto her back, tumbling around to her feet and sprawling for a weapon. She finds one the big man used, she holds it up and her arms shake under the weight. She doesn’t pose a real threat that way -- she hadn’t lifted a finger to help the group fight.

Rising onto two feet, you tower over her and reach out, cupping her face with both hands. Thumbing the fat on her cheeks and pulling her ears, you croak,

“Mine…”

. . .

A red dragon used to plague this floor, you don’t hear him anymore. You feel confident to venture from your cave for more meal.

Recently, the hunger has gotten so bad you’ve begun drooling over yourself. Despite not caring for your appearance, the feeling is bothersome. The sensation of saliva-matted fur around your muzzle reminds you of the vacancy in your stomach.

Bravely creeping from the lulling warmth of your cavern, you come into the open grass and watch dire wolves nose at Barometz stalks. Unripe, ruby fruits shine under leaking light from higher places. Gold bounces off the fur of ripened fruits. You’re sure they’ll be harvested soon. Your only derision with unripe Barometz fruits is the smaller lamb. Even then, you cannot complain when the wolves more than make up for a lack of meat.

Just as you set to slide down the mossy wall, a red blur hastens toward the middle of the field. Large, pointed black ears twitch which gives you pause. The pale skin you can make out and thick cloth stresses to you that it's a human, but those ears and the hunched posture tell otherwise. Either way, it will have meat.

A man approaches, rushing behind the red blur, his tin shell clinks as he runs. He’s yelling. He can speak.

Long, gold hair and blue furs run after him -- two more men after the blonde woman. A group. A group made of thick bodies, sans the weird-looking red one and the child. No matter, they can fill your shriveled intestine while you divy the thick ones.

Or perhaps just the stout one could fill you. His broad frame is swollen with muscle and he looks well-kept: strong and lively.

Just the thought of cinching his fat thigh makes you swallow another well of spittle. As the wolves close in, the red and blue ones cut from the group, and you merely watch. Dead meat is still meat. If one party kills the other then all you have to do is interfere before they start eating their game.

The tin man gets low, on all fours, before yelping and barking like a rabid beast. He snarls and flails -- startling away the few wolves straggling behind.

After robing, you slide down the crag only to hiss as jagged rocks snag new skin. Spending so much time in your natural form makes the transition to a new face that much more difficult to acclimate to.

You’d lick up the thin blood trails if the three remaining bodies weren’t now gazing at you in shock.

The furthest away, the brown-headed child, scowls at your very presence. While the tin man seems to be fighting back an eager approach.

“Who are you?” the child bites from the back of the pack, eyes narrow and harsh.

An axe’s glint draws your attention to the stocky one. He’s raised his weapon against you.

Flashing yourself a downward glance, you confirm you’re in a human form. Are humans more distrusting the lower they venture?

You open your mouth, then think better of it, pointing to your throat and shaking your head.

“Mute, huh?” again, the child speaks before casting the tin man a look. His instant deferral makes you wonder if the tall one is the leader. Then the child looks to the short one, “Senshi…”

If that’s a secret code among them, you cannot make it out.

What do you look like?

Who did you last steal?

You mask another cursory study of yourself as a frustrated huff and sniffle -- the woman. The healer woman. These all seem to be men, and men are usually softer when you take the form of a woman.

You sniffle louder, frowning and covering your face.

“Ah,” the child stumbles back, “Senshi!”

“What?” the short one gruffs. So that must be its name, not a code.

“Do something!”

“Did you lose your party?” the tin man approaches instead of ‘Senshi’. His face is gentle, nothing but patience written in the low lid of his eyes.

Pathetically, you nod.

“Laios!” the child hisses. Is that another name?

“I’m Laios,” the tin man instantly confirms, then gesturing toward the child, “That’s Chilchuck. And this is Senshi,” his brows draw, “How’d you get down here by yourself?”

How did you meet this woman?

Wiping away cold blotches in your waterline, you point upwards before dramatically slamming the hand downward.

“You fell?” Chilchuck sounds suspicious.

Oh, well. Womanly charms (tears) can’t work on kids, you suppose.

“It’s possible,” Laios defends.

“If there was a faster way to get us down here, don’t you think I would’ve taken us through there?”

The pair glare at each other with Senshi a silent third party, though his axe remains raised. Abruptly, a sickening growl cracks through the air. Borderline blood curdling in the low, raw gurgle seeping from your stomach.

Manufacturing embarrassment, you cup the pouch of your tummy and shake your head apologetically.

“Are you hungry?” Laios asks redundantly, then offers a hand. His smile is just as soft as it had been moments ago, but something about its serenity ignites your brain.

A tingle races down your spine. Breath sputtering a moment and guts coiling unpleasantly. You can feel sweat bead your forehead regardless of the chilly breeze.

You haven’t felt like this since you first opened your goopy eyes to the dungeon’s lower levels. Like he’s about to spear you through the chest. Like he’s twice your size.

Blinking free from your stupor, you nod clumsily and take his hand. It's warm. Yours is clammy.

“Is this a good idea…?” Chilchuck looks up at Senshi, wringing his hands.

Before you can properly hear Senshi’s response, Laios is already pulling you towards the cavern that red blur darted out of. He climbs in first and pulls you in -- Senshi politely avoids looking up while following after. You sit between Laios and Chilchuck in the cavern, watching Laios’ hands skim over the large, unripe Barowitz. Without considering the action, you find yourself licking your lips as he leans his face against the fruit. His cheek puffing out.

Suddenly, his gaze is honed on you again, “As soon as Marcille and Izutsumi are back, we can start eating.”

You nod excitedly. Once the other two are back, you can release and consume. A group of five is sure to satiate you at long last. You’ve never seen such a large collection of bodies. You won’t ever have to eat again after this meal.

Your excitement is tempered when you catch a glimpse of Chilchuck in your peripherals.

Child. A child is down here?

Don’t humans usually put the lives of their young before their own?

You point at Chilchuck, hoping the child will relax once you demonstrate some maternal instinct. Mothers want their kids to eat, right? It sounds right. Your maker always watched you eat before diving in Himself.

“Chilchuck?” Laios murmurs, “What about him?”

Instinctually, your mouth opens again, only to clack shut again. You tap your lips then point to him again. Then you drag a finger through the smatter of dirt and dust along the cold floor. A risky move to write, but you’ve practiced well enough to pass.

EAT FIRST

Laios raises a brow at you, “Why would he eat first?”

CHILD

Laios smiles wider than even before.

Chilchuck scoffs, an overt anger filling his tone, “I’m not a child! How ignorant are you?!”

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Is he just a very short human like Senshi? But how is he so slight? How are his ears so big?

What is he?

Before any response can form from any person in the tunnel, the blue and red ones creep out from the darkness. Laios stands and approaches the pair. Blonde woman, the variety that has pointy ears -- you’ve seen lots of them down here -- continuously glances at you. She murmurs to Laios while the red one is leaning against her.

It stands on its hinds like a human, it groans like a human, it looks like a human sans the tail hanging between its legs and ears pointing upward. It's skinny, whatever it is. It was fast, looks like it has a useful face to steal.

You watch the group jabber amongst themselves, with the woman heatedly berating her fellow man for taking you in. Despite her harsh words, Laios’ face never falls: whether he’s truly so forgiving or just thrives off negative attention you’re unsure.

“I just have a good feeling,” his eyes pierce through you, and that tickle up your spine returns.

“Oh, good,” she grumbles.

“In any case, we’re all hungry,” at the prompt, Senshi moves towards the Barometz and steadies a hand against it, “I wanted to harvest a Barometz, but all the ripe ones were taken by dire wolves.”

Senshi punctures the fruit’s skin with a blade, cutting along the circumference, “Let’s see if we can cook it.”

Once halved, the side not supported by Senshi’s hand slips open with the premature lamb limply collapsing to the floor. Gelatinous bones jiggling against rock.

The thing with fur leans forward, “There’s a little sheep in the vegetable!”

“Aah! I can’t!” blue one grimaces, covering her face while Chilchuck gags, “For completely different ethical reasons, I refuse!”

You quirk a brow at her interjection -- food is food, no? They can dole out the fruit and get plump before you finally soothe your own aching gut. You’re almost tempted to rip back tight, uncomfortable skin and end the woman’s misery when Senshi’s voice calls to you.

“First cut up the Barometz ribs into whatever size proportion you want. Season them, sear them, add wine over top, cover the pan, and then braise them,” you watch as he casually defiles a creature he cannot understand, sizzling it and burning away faux fats.

You’ve never seen humans that bite back.

No matter how harmless a Barometz is, you’re in shock to see him searing up what is technically a monster.

“Next, boil the remainder of the fruit, peel off the skin, and cut it into chunks. Add some garlic and simmer it all together. With the sauce finished, you take that, pour it over the meat and… it’s ready!”

Barometz Balut.

“This helping’s yours, cat girl. Go on, take it.”

“What’s all the weird-looking stuff?”

While Senshi and ‘cat girl’ are locked in a debate, the man hands the woman in blue a serving as well. Her lips are stretched downward, her brows knotted towards the center of her forehead.

“Come on, Marcille, you’ve eaten Harpy eggs before. This should be easy!”

Harpy… eggs. Their young? What benefit does a Harpy egg provide? There is no meat. To eat that is to consume a beast simply because they can.

“That was out of desperation! I didn’t like them!”

She consumes despite it being unfulfilling? That, truly, is eating solely to prove it possible.

Your hands shake at your sides at the thought.

“That’s not true,” Laios denies.

“Okay, fine, they were… ugh. They were fine!”

“It’s okay, we all liked them. I think my favorite has been the red dragon, though,” Laios is positively beaming at you now.

The red dragon. He’s why the field’s warden has gone missing. Your shock is not lost on any of the group.

When your horror is evident, Chilchuck and the woman -Marcille- shoot forward while waving their hands around. As if to physically bat away any unsavory accusations.

“It was seasoned and cut up!” Chilchuck shouts, “We didn’t even eat all of it!”

Marcille nods rapidly, clutching the wood slat of food to her chest, “Yeah, we only had a little bit compared to how big it was!”

They scavenge the young and waste a beast as magnificent as the red dragon?

“We ate it because it ate my sister,” he’s still smiling.

A raucous chorus of his name is shrieked in protest.

Your breathing spikes, now certainly slick with sweat and chest thudding -- forget finally ending your hunger with them, how could they squander the red dragon? How could they still starve after eating such a large monster? Your palms find the floor, eyes flicking to the opening of the cavern.

When your gaze returns, Laios is staring at you. Wide amber eyes melting through your facade -- he knows, he must. How long has he known? Why not kill you as soon as he figured it out? Why lure you in?

The red one -Izutsumi- tilts its head at you, nose twitching. It smells the influx of sweat and dread.

You shoot up, opening your mouth for a husky growl, “Away… get… away…”

“I knew it!” Laios stands, “Oh, wow, I thought goatmen were extinct!”

He’s going to slice you open and they’ll eat you for fun. They won’t finish you. They’ll leave you for your maker to find.

“Goatman?!” Chilchuck wails, “You invited a goatman into the party?! Laios, I could strangle you!”

He’d kill his own ally?!

“So cool, though, and so far pretty harmless. I’ve heard they can be domesticated by feeding them brains every now and again.”

“Brain…” you shiver, flailing back into the wall, “No… Brain… No…”

Laios turns to Senshi with a preppy little smile, “It’s not an exact match, but the Barometz has something akin to a brain.”

These things are demons. No wonder your maker wants to devour them all.

Why eat a brain? You’d have to destroy the skull for that, and you need to keep the skull intact to steal a human’s face.

Senshi shrugs and hacks open the lamb’s skull with a loud crack, making you flinch back and yelp.

“First, chop the brain into four parts, season with olive oil and sprouts. Roll the brains in egg and wrap with bread. Normally you’d use crumbs or flour, but we’ll have to make due. Then fry in the pan with more oil over medium heat until…”

Laios snatches the brains from Senshi to shove onto your lap,

“It’s ready!”

FRIED LAMB BRAINS.

Senshi watches you carefully from beneath the shadow of his helmet. Meanwhile Marcille and Izutsumi are poised to attack with Chilchuck lingering in the very back. Those three are only additional to the presence of Laios, who looms above you with sword in hand. Eyes fiery with exhilaration, though he’s visibly ready to cut you down should you try escaping.

Your stomach echoes through the cavern. Drool pools and oozes through the gaps in your teeth, it smells good. So, with truly no other choice, you bring the fried brains to your mouth.

Oddly sweet, the juices are warm and electric on your tongue. You let out a soft hum and shovel more of the brains back. Again, you hum. You tip the wood slat and scoop all the meat down your gullet, licking the excess juices up and even sweeping crumbs into your mouth.

By the time your meal was picked clean, you felt something entirely new.

“Full…” you look up in amazement, wide eyed at Laios, “Full…”

A small hand cracks against Laios’ silver back, Chilchuck shouting in sharp, throaty tones that are completely unfamiliar to you. Laios frowns and murmurs about being sworn out in a foreign tongue.

Then Izutsumi yanks away, whipping her head back and forth, “Reeks in here!”

Chilchuck points at you, though is still glaring up at Laios, “And it smells!”

“Goatmen smell like goats,” Laios frowns.

Marcille hesitantly hangs a loose, thin blanket in front of you -- it takes you a moment to realize human skin is peeling off you in chunks. The faint scent of copper growing into a heavy, rotten stench of open carcass as you shed the woman’s skin. You’ve never prematurely ejected before. Normally, once you wear a person’s face you’re stuck there until it withers. Or you peel it off.

The smell gets so bad that Chilchuck and Izutsumi huff and storm to a neighboring hole in the cliff’s rockface. Marcille has to press her nose into the crook of her elbow, the sheet shaking as you stretch free from the woman’s body.

Unbeknownst to you, there is a silent battle between Marcille and Senshi. Until Laios, of course, breaks it.

“Why are you two glaring at each other?”

You rise to a stand, watching Marcille cast you a set of distrusting eyes before seething, “What should we do about it?”

“It ain’t doing anything wrong.”

“It’s a monster!” she turns suddenly towards Laios, “Didn’t you say all monsters are dangerous?!”

“They are,” Laios reaches towards his sword, squeezing the hilt and eyes sunken to the floor, “but it’s not like we were in real danger. Goatmen are pretty harmless in human forms.”

Marcille makes a startled groan behind clenched teeth, hands jerking out towards you.

“Fed goatmen are completely docile,” Laios reasons, “They only kill to eat. They’re more like an animal than a traditional monster.”

“So how do we know it won’t kill us when it gets hungry again?!”

Laios’ eyes seem to burst alight with stars, “Because we’ve fed it already! Before they were endangered some people would go down into dungeons just to domesticate and breed them for the surface. Once you prove yourself formidable and trustworthy, they’re pretty unwilling to try fighting you.”

“It can talk,” Senshi adds, “We can’t kill it just because.”

Marcille’s face goes red, a frustrated sigh leaving her lips, “It barely talks.”

You were taught words by your maker. He speaks with more clarity and ease than you do.

“It still talks,” Senshi doesn’t budge, “It ain't attacking either.”

For a moment, you contemplate killing these people.

Immediately, you’re repulsed by the mere thought. To see their soft faces and warm bodies torn open and to be smeared with their insides is so undesirable you heave. Brain rushing up your throat before you can swallow it down.

“Marcille live,” you caw, the woman looks up at you and you repeat yourself at her blank stare thinking she misunderstood you, “Want Marcille… alive…”

“Aw,” her coo is uneven, lips twitching in a way that, if you were better at reading people, would make you think she doesn’t trust you, “That’s actually kind of… nice?”

“I read they were loyal but I didn’t think the bonding process was so fast,” Laios marvels. Reaching out to lay a hand against your snout, he beams -- this has been a close second beast he’s dreamt of meeting. Number one still being a minotaur.

He’d been content to keep this interaction a daydream, since goatmen were thought extinct -- but look at you! Never had he thought something mythed to descend from demons could be so docile, and so…

“So cool…” Laios is boiling over with pure ecstasy as you tip your head down to fit more comfortably into his palm.

Senshi gathers the group’s remaining bags and announces he’ll re-settle camp with Chilchuck and Izutsumi. Although there’s a bonus pep in his step as he ponders jotting this whole day in his journal.

[mountainficss]

HIHIHIII 🦈 HERE !!! having a wonwoo thoughts again .. (im crazy in love with that man.) but anyways thinking abt him making u wear his glasses while he fucks u cuz it just turns him on ..

or vice versa where he wears his glasses just cuz he likes to see every expression and reaction u have while he fucks u😭😭😭

anyways love u take ur time cuz poopoo bum school is a pain in the ass giving u all these assignments u got important things to do. like writing these fics (super important business!!!) LOVE U 💗

-🦈🦈🦈

!! mentions of: unprotected sex

HIHIHI ANON I MISSED YOU AND I LOVE YOU SM! 🩶🩶🩶 no and honestly i feel you wonwoo is so pretty…i have the fattest crush on him it’s unhealthy. and omg i know school is so lame 🙄 it’s never even hard work it’s just sooo time consuming. i’m telling you my professors want me to be bored out of my mind. but anyway!

ohhh the idea of wonwoo being turned on by you wearing his glasses is so…UGH i love that. you’d probably just snatch them off his face for fun, running away with them and sliding them on to see his reaction. you’d smile at him widely and you’d be met with an astounded look from wonwoo. he would know you took them just to mess around and had an innocent intent, but oh seeing you in his glasses would turn him ON. his brain would flash him an image of you underneath him wearing nothing but his glasses, and he would feel his cock immediately stiffen in his pants. he’d hastily make his way over to you and pick you up, practically throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to your shared bedroom. in seconds wonwoo would be tearing off your clothes, giving you needy kisses while you let out dreamy sighs. his glasses would still sit cutely on the end of your nose, and your eyes would meet his through the lenses with a dazed look. he felt like he was going insane seeing you looking so cute in his glasses. and your bare body would just make his cock throb harder. “keep them on,” he’d command breathlessly, tugging his shirt over his head and untying his sweats. “’m gonna fuck you while you wear those.” you’d smile devilishly at him as he fishes his cock out of his boxers, twisting his hand around it and throwing his head back in pleasure. “do i look cute in them?” you’d tease, reaching a hand up to adjust them playfully. wonwoo would groan as he peered down at you, fisting his cock faster at your actions. “you look so good,” he’d sigh, feeling you wrap your legs around him and pull him closer. “need to feel you.” he’d line his length up to your hole, pushing in slowly as both of you gasp at the stretch. he’d bottom out in one thrust, your tight heat making him feel dizzy. he’d study your face as he gives you time to adjust, admiring the soft blush on your cheeks and your cute expressions as he starts to rut into you. his cock always made you feel so full, and this time would be no different as he glides easily into you. he’d cup your cheek with one hand and you’d wrap both of your hands around his forearm, turning your head to teasingly kiss his palm. he mutters a small fuck and runs his thumb along the temple of his glasses, feeling you tighten around him. “can i take these back, baby?” he’d ask, his voice strained from trying to hold back his quickly-approaching orgasm. “need to see you. wanna see the faces you make.” you’d chuckle at him asking for permission as if they weren’t his glasses, releasing his arm to take them off. you’d slide them back on his face slowly, watching the moment he seems to really see you. his pupils would dilate at the sight of your lewd expressions, and he’d struggle to not roll his eyes back in ecstasy at the way you look at him. his hips would pound into you with quick thrusts, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot and bringing you closer to climax. “you’re so pretty,” he’d mumble mindlessly, leaning in to press a kiss onto your forehead. “really like when you wear my glasses.” you’d thread your fingers through his hair, gripping the strands as your orgasm washes over you in a powerful wave, threatening to send wonwoo over the edge too. he fucks you through your climax, feeling his cock pulsing inside of your heat and filling you full of his cum with a drawn-out moan. he’d hover over your weak form as you both try to catch your breath. “well,” you’d pant, releasing your grip on his hair and running your fingers through it to soothe the sting. “i like when you wear them too.” <3

taglist: @imprettyweird , @jeonghanpill , @bangantokchy , @caratboy , @bewoyewo , @c-hanniehae , @wonvsmile , @haolovre , @aaniag

[skyeslittlecorner]

hiyaa!! can i request the king’s reaction to gabriel attempting to kill mc when they aren’t there? he does succeed in slashing their arm a bit, where mc crouches in pain while trying to stop the bleeding.

(your blog is my fav btw i love all of your stuff! <3)

First, let me be a nerd as I explain one thing, because I know that not everyone has been in the fandom from the beginning, and this fact was mentioned in the very first event. Gabriel's scythe kills on touch. It is a gift from god that even kings avoid because just one scratch means death.

I don't know if you were aware of this, dear anon, when you asked for this headcanon (if you wanted a less drastic scenario, please let me know, I'll gladly write a second one!). Get ready for angst.

(And! Thank you for kind words! You have no idea how nice to hear that <;3)

Satan reacted as befitted his sin. Wrath. Rage. Breakdown. A red, thick fog flowed into the streets, only choking the subordinates, but sweeping away the angels. They couldn't stand the mourning that poured out of him, and they died in agony as long as he held your dying body in his arms. This was the only day in the history of Gehenna when the devils lost their will to fight and their king almost followed you into the arms of death, fighting more fiercely than ever before.

You fulfilled your promise. You died to protect Hell. And he failed to protect you. Once you were buried in a beautiful, simple grave, Satan had only one thing on his mind. He promised you that he would be faithful, only yours, for millennia. And he will keep that promise. No lovers, no one-night stands. He couldn't protect you, but he can protect the one you did all this for. Minhyeok and his later children won't even be aware of it, but they have just gained a pure white, red-eyed guardian.

Beelzebub felt you dying rather than saw you. By the time he appeared at your side, it was too late. There was almost no blood flowing, but you both knew that this wound would never heal. He kissed you and whispered soothingly as you died. It was his fault. His damn eternal wandering. If he had stayed, if he had watched you better... You deserved more than being buried among his clones. You should rest with those who, unlike him, did protect you. With your parents. He will show up with your body on Minhyeok's doorstep, hoping that he will get angry and yell at him, but he will only break down in tears over your body. This is not enough for Beelzebub, this is worse than the punishment he expected. He doesn't feel worthy of attending your funeral, but he'll watch from afar anyway.

Your tombstone will always look like new, even for hundreds of years. Intact stone, fresh flowers. There are things that even Beelzebub cannot forget.

Leviathan won't let you die. No, just no. No way. Do not agree. The moment you get hurt, he will catch you in his arms. The face is colder than usual, but the voice is more soothing than ever. "Do not be afraid. You are mine, and I am not letting you go.” He will kiss you one last time and push you into his coffin. Suspended somewhere between worlds, not dead, but not alive either, you will be pushed into eternal sleep, barely remembering who you are.

Leviathan won't stop there, he has to get you back. Only god can save you from death, and if that means this devil has to find him, he will. Anything to get you back to his side. He won't agree to lose another person he loves.

This time Mammon is the spoiled one

MAMMON

The shield you raised could withstand anything - or so you thought, until Gabriel cut through it like a knife through wax. The wound on your forearm was minor. Almost invisible. Still, you stared at it in silence, dazed. You knew what that meant.

A fist sprung in front of your nose a second too late. Shooed the seraph away a second too late. Your life could have been saved. A second too late.

"Master! Are you okay?" Mammon caught up with you and grabbed you in his arms. The grogginess slowly turned into dizziness. You collapsed onto his chest, losing strength.

"He... hurt me." You whispered into his broad chest. His muscles tensed as if ready to attack, but the huge arms lifted you ever so gently. You felt like you were in a huge cradle. The consciousness that slowly drained from your body was glad that it was spending its last moments in these arms.

The king held your limp body for a long time. He couldn't say goodbye to you, he couldn't understand that he had lost you. That you already had left this Hell, and there was nothing he could do about it.

A huge mausoleum was built in the meadow where you died. Gold and silk blinded the inhabitants from afar, outshining the sun itself. Despite the splendor greater than in the palace, everyone considered your tomb to be the poorest place in the world. Mammon visited it every day. He reminded himself that he needed to protect his people better. That he should have protected you better. For the first time in his life he felt real loss.

It was here that Tartaros' greatest treasure was lost.

[chaotic-iguana]

Twisted Love

summary: as we know, im a bit of a gremlin. i take ur asks and fucking add my own spin. here we are. its like a “joel edges reader, reader accidentally comes” with SUPER dark twists. let me know what you think. feel free to (gently) yell at me because honestly @breakfastatjoels is the only reason i decided to post (love you dee)

pairing: dark! joel x reader

wordcount: 2.3k

warnings: survivalism, dubcon, dark!joel, edging, dom/sub dynamics, pussy slapping, very out of my comfort zone writing this, stockholm syndrome, this joel is everything husband joel is not. hes a dick please dont acc be in these kinds of relationships, swearing (no bc me being a smartass and adding swearing as if its worse than STOCKHOLM SYNDROME), choking, slapping, passing out and keep going, somno? i think?, dacryphilia, he’s a genuine fucking asshole

A/N: please be warned that this is not a vanilla smut fic, it follows some super dark themes. unlike my other fics, no “soft” joel, or aftercare; no checking in or wiping tears. also forewarning, i do not support relationships that are in fact like this. i am not glorifying sa or abuse. dont want any anons in my inbox tearing me a new one. 

masterlist // navigation

Four hours. You’d been tied to the bed spreadeagle for four hours. Your wrists and ankles had chafed, you’d nearly lost your voice, and you couldn’t seem to stop trembling.

Joel had one hand on your stomach, pressing down, and another between your legs, bringing you to orgasm after orgasm only to pull away at the last second to watch you buck your hips into thin air, chasing friction, as your high ebbed away again. And then he would start again. And again. And again.

By now, you were gone. Your mind had long been wiped clean of coherent thought. Broken moans and whines escaped you as you tried to beg despite having seemingly forgotten the ability to articulate yourself - you could barely manage short gasps of breath in between sobs; words were proving to be near-impossible. 

A dizzying chant of Joel, Joel, Joel, took up your mind as he wrenched his fingers out of you once again, just a second too late to accomplish what he wanted. No; in your desperate, hyper-sensitive state, that split second alone was enough to send you into a  spiral: toes-curling, back-arching and your breath coming in sharp gasps as an orgasm that had your vision whiting out for a few seconds washes over you.

Joel glared down at you, the vision barely registering to you past the buzz of euphoria, eyes rolling back as reality faded away. He gripped your jaw then, snapping you out of the daze by bringing a hand down on your cunt, repeatedly striking the sensitive folds, the painful sting heightened by your orgasm. 

 At the pitiful groans of protest and the way your legs contorted against the bindings to fall into themselves; instinct taking over to protect you from his merciless assault, he rolled his eyes with a huff. 

“Y’gonna be a brat? Be a fuckin’ brat. ‘M not wastin’ my time on a girl that can’t behave.” 

Snapping his switchblade open, he leaned down to rip through your restraints before turning and walking out of the room without another word.

That had been a week ago. You had spent an hour curled in on yourself, numb in disbelief that he’d just left. You hadn’t meant to go against his wishes, your body had just taken over and practically pushed you over the edge. You knew the deal-  of course you did, it was seared into your fucking mind- it’s what kept you alive. 

It was an offer he had spat at you with a blade pressed to your neck, a decree that signed your body over to him. He’d let you live and keep you alive, and in return all you had to do was obey him; be his “good little girl”, as he put it. All you had to do in exchange for your safety was listen to him, do what he told you to. 

A paralyzing fear had gripped you since that day you had accidentally defied him, death looming over your head like a guillotine you couldn’t quite see just yet but knew was inevitably coming. 

You’d hated the arrangement at first, resisting it; resisting him. But once he had made it abundantly clear that there was no way for you to leave, nowhere you could go, you found yourself fighting back less. Life had already been so long, taken so much from you already. You’d never have to worry again. He’d keep you safe. Despite his inherent brutality, he took care of you; more care than anyone else had taken since the world went to shit. He made sure you ate enough, slept in better spots, showers. When you had nightmares, he’d set a bruising pace against you and rut until your head emptied of every thought but his. 

Your disdain for him faded over time, and you began craving him. You wanted him under your skin, you wanted to feel him and nothing else, to be reduced to a mindless mess as damp sheets clung to your skin. Wanted his bites and bruises, wanted his grip on your thighs, your waist, your neck. Slowly, you wanted him. A twisted love characterised by dizzying need for him to rip you apart and put you back together infected your mind. To be with you, hold you, praise you. And you were perfect for him as a result, wanting nothing but to keep him happy. 

He, however, hadn’t so much as looked at you all week. If he said anything, it was bit out in your general direction as an afterthought; an inconvenience. It was like he’d stopped caring where you were, how you were. Pent up and needing him, needing to feel the scrapes of his callouses against your skin, his teeth nipping your flesh, you simply endured it all fearfully. Your arrangement had gone on long enough that you genuinely did not know if he would follow through - but you’d seen enough of what he was capable of not to risk it. You may have your own infatuation with the man, but you weren’t stupid. When he stood jaw clenched, shoulders tense, and with that crazed glint in his eye, you did not speak to him; your self-preserving habit of pointing out his tells blaring at you to run. If you so much as stepped too close to him on days like these, you’d see how blown out his pupils were, how his face was set in an expression that made it difficult to identify him, before he’d pin you to the nearest wall and use his mouth, fingers, cock, blade handle, beer bottle and makeshift toys on you until you passed out, and then he’d keep going until exhaustion overtook him. Which, for a man that size, often took over a day. 

So you settled for trying your best to impress him. Wore that dress he liked, did your hair in a ponytail because you knew it made his fingers itch to tug at it, painted your lips with a shadow of red and just followed him like a lost puppy, without stopping or complaining once. Didn’t matter how many gashes you got on your hands and knees from getting your foot caught on sharp edges or rocks he didn’t warn you of anymore, didn’t matter how hungry or thirsty you were with him neglecting to pass the canteen back to you, didn’t matter how badly his biting comments hurt you or how many tears filled your eyes, you followed him without complaint.  

But it had been a week, and your resolve had started to break. If he was going to kill you, he had to do it now. The buildup, the constant fear, the desperation to impress him, the cuts and bruises now littering your body, the hungry ache in your stomach - they all reached a point where your knees just buckled, and you just couldn’t. Joel was ahead of you, still trudging on without so much as glancing in your direction, not even after the pathetic wail that sounded from you as you fell to your knees. Gasping out his name, wincing at the rasp of your voice from the disuse, you watched his steps falter as he looked at you over his shoulder, and kept walking. 

“No, no, no, please Joel, please.” Tears began streaming down your face, your body shaking with the force of the devastation sweeping through you as you began crawling after him. This made him stop and turn, brow raised and mouth set in a cruel smile as he took in your form. He took slow, deliberate strides to where you lay on the ground, elbows given out, and looked down at you. 

“Please, what?” His dark eyes were glittering as he smirked at you, watching you crumble before his very eyes. 

“No more. ‘M sorry, I’m so sorry I won’t ever go against what you say again. Didn’t mean to come - it just happened n’ I couldn’t stop it. I’ve been so good for years, Joel. I’m s-sorry, please I’m so sorry.” Cheeks burning hot with humiliation, you could barely meet his gaze as you began begging the man you’d sworn to kill when you first met him. Begged him to take care of you, to forgive you. 

He crouched low, reaching a hand out to tip your chin up and meet your eyes. 

“Need me?” A jeering, boisterous laugh. “Do ya, now?” At your nod, he snorted. “You forget who’s in control -once, just once - I fuckin’ leave you then and there. Clear?” Another nod. “Take what I give you this time.” Not a question, but you find yourself nodding feverishly anyways, making his lips twitch as he grasped you and lifted you into his arms the rest of the way. 

Joel spotted a cabin while trudging through the rough terrain, your hands around his neck and torso flush against his chest as you hung limp in his arms, half-asleep. Deciding to settle there for the night, he barely took a minute to scout the place out before he was making his way to the bedroom. He dropped you onto the bed before turning to strip his flannel and trousers off. Watching you blink in confusion as you started to wake up, he scoffed, tangling a hand in your hair, flipping you onto yoru back, and yanking your head to the edge of the bed. 

Giving you no time to brace yourself, Joel shoved the blunt head of his cock between your lips, working your jaw open as he starting using your mouth. One of hands came to rest on your exposed neck, putting enough pressure to feel himself moving in and out of your throat, while the other gripped the edge of the bed next to your head, intermittently coming up to slap your tits, your stomach, your thighs - anywhere he could reach. The sounds of your garbled choking and gasping filled the room, Joel using your mouth like a fleshlight. 

Refusing you a single second of reprieve to get your breath, he kept rocking his hips until you were lightheaded and there were spots in your vision, consciousness fading. When he glanced down and realised you were about to pass out, he pulled himself flush against your mouth and stayed there, drool and spit spluttering from your nose as you struggled to accommodate him, struggling against him until you blacked out. 

When you came to, you were lying on your stomach, hair still in Joel’s grip and head held back. Your hands were tied to the headboard in front of you with the underwear you had been wearing all day, and his fingers were bruising your waist in his grip as he pounded into you from behind. 

You could feel that you had lost some time. Come and blood streaked all over your jaw, neck and chest, and you could feel some drying on your back, thighs and stomach as well. Moreover, you were drenched. Covered from head to toe in a mixture of blood, sweat, saliva and cum. You could see skin on your chest and stomach swollen and red, broken by his teeth, which had left permanent indents into the flesh. Blinking steadily, you realised that the sun was up, the room bathed in the first few rays of dawn. 

“Welcome back, sweetheart.” His rasp from behind you had a shudder dancing down your spine, straightening up slightly. You could barely sob your response - the new angle had your eyes rolling back, and you could feel yourself being jolted up the bed by the sheer force of his thrusts into you. 

Feeling the muscles of your stomach tense, you hardly had the rationality to start babbling a half-understandable “Gonna cum, ‘m g-mmh-cum,” before feeling him shift his hand on your hip to move it between your legs, swiping over your clit with just enough pressure to bring you to your peak - before he leaned down to snarl into your ear. 

“Don’t come.” At your whimper, he laughed. “Y’wanna live? Be good f’me? Don’t you dare fucking come.” You felt your muscles lock up, a pitiful whine leaving your mouth as you staved off your orgasm, tensing so hard against it that your whole body hurt. Your legs were shaking with the force of holding off, and you felt Joel smile into your shoulder in approval before he moved his arm under your thigh, lifting it as the strength of his hips snapping into yours increased, making you scream when his fingers returned to your folds. 

He reveled in the wails that were piercing the silence of the room, at the force with which you began convulsing in the effort to obey him. Sucking a bruise into the skin behind your ear, he let you suffer for a few more plunges of his tip into your cervix until he felt his own climax fast approaching, uttering a permissive “Come,” until you were gripping him so hard his vision whited out for a few moments. Watching your hand come around to the back of his head, body trembling as you moaned low and near-pained next to him, he stayed inside you for a few seconds before pulling out and stepping into his jeans immediately, watching you collapse onto the bed from overexertion. 

He just reached across the bed to twist a particularly large bruise between his index finger and thumb, savoring your squeak of fear and the tears streaming down your face. 

“Best get cleaned up quick. We gotta lot’a ground to cover today.” And with that, he was walking out again. At least this time, you knew he’d keep you around. 

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore , @evyiione , @breakfastatjoels  , @millerscoffee dividers by @cafekitsune!! cover by the AMAZING @pedrosaidsheispunk. what a LEGEND. 

[dandysworldhcs]

OKAY OKAY OKAY SENDING IN ANOTHER ONE TODAY BC I WAS MAKING HC'S IN THE BLUSHCRUNCH SERVER

Okay soooo y'know one hc that got sent in a while ago with Glisten and the teleporting constantly until he got too dizzy and confused / passed out?

What if there were times when Glisten started getting disoriented enough that he was accidentally crashing and banging into stuff when teleporting, and he'd wave it off and work through it when other Toons came to check on what the noises were. Until they would end up in the glass on his face cracking or chipping. Then it would result in him dropping the trick immediately and start spiralling in his daze.

When the humans were still at Gardenview, I like to think that when this happened, Delilah would personally fix his face for him and comfort him until the dizziness and confusion passed. I like the idea that the two of them would bond over their anxieties with perfectionism (with Delilah wanting to make sure that the Toons were always made perfectly), and she'd be sort of like a secondary Toon Handler for Glisten (or honourary Toon Handler, if we go with the theory that only Mains had handlers).

(I WILL die on the hill of Delilah being just as morally grey as Dandy and caring for the Toons in her own way, usually by fixing them up when they're hurt and trying to help them as best that she can with their anxieties).

~~(Parentheses Anon)

AWWWWWWW, ALSO AGREED ON THE DELILAH MORALLY GREY THING