#he's been living in my head rent free a fucking week

[qwq-stuff]

Guess who got a new hyperfixation

[the-kipsabian]

happy anniversary 📦🖤

[taylor]

still reeling over the fact that almost 2 months ago the guy i was talking to (not dating, but definitely 'seeing') took another girl TO MY AND MY ROOMMATE'S APARTMENT to FUCK HER ON OUR AIR MATTRESS while i was ON VACATION THOUSANDS OF MILES AWAY

honestly. how do i get myself into these situations

[unholyeverything]

I just realised tomorrow marks the 7ths week of me being sick and feeling like garbage lol It's some ups and downs but generally it's been a while since I've been healthy and none knows whats up which is nice.

[yeyinde]

(sighs dreamily) i loooove the way you write fucked up and gross simon. the size kink and somno drabbles have been living rent free in my mind for almost two weeks now. the recent stalker piece was also so deliciously terrifying, i actually had a dream/nightmare today that was a mixture of stalker!ghost and not-dog!soap 😭

are you planning on writing any more for either of those?

ahhh thank you!!!! this had me wondering how i could maybe blend the two and this happened.

stalking. HEAVILY implied noncon somno. size difference.

Simon decides your dog, your baby, needs a man in the house. and since you like to call yourself his 'mama,’ then it’s only right that he becomes the daddy both of you need.

Your dog does not like strangers.

He's a rescue and the sort of life he lived until now, until you, is mostly a mystery. You found him on a rainy day, panting under your awning - a gnarled mess of matted fur glued to bone. Too skinny to survive another winter. You took him in right away and gained his trust. His love. But whatever he had left to spare (lots, it seems) is strictly reserved for you. Everyone else is a threat, a worry. Even the vets he's known since you found him all those years ago still get the same wary glances, the same growls then they lean in too close to whisper something in your ear.

He's just—special. The sweetest thing ever when it's just you. Your baby. People joke—slightly nervous—that he treats you like his mother. Following you closely with his big, glossy eyes tilted up to stare at you. Loving. Cuddly. Rests his big head on your lap at night with a great, big sigh. Tired from a long, hard day of protecting his house from squirrels and the stray delivery driver.

But when it comes to others—anyone, really—he’s aggressive. Territorial. All the vets and trainers say that it's his breed. That he just needs to be trained. Exposure therapy. Behavioural. And it works for all of two weeks before he's back to his stubborn self. Snapping at anyone who gets too close to you.

You post warnings on your fence. Your front door. Take precautions when you walk him. Warn anyone who gets close that he doesn't like anyone. Full stop. No exceptions. And it works. Helps ease the stress. He still goes to therapy. To training lessons. But he's smart enough to trick them into thinking he's learning.

And it's fine. People can't get too close to you. To his house. His territory.

Or so you thought.

But he's been acting strange lately.

You caught him barking at something through the fence a few months ago; spittle flying from his muzzle as his lips peeled back, snarling and vicious. If the fence wasn't reinforced, you think he would have broken it down to get at whatever was behind it.

It continued like this for a few days. Each time you went to check and see what was there, all you find is littered cigarettes. The teenage son of your neighbour, you think. He likes to hide in the dense woods so his parents can't find him. You'll talk to him about it later. Ask if he can do it a little further away from the fence so he isn’t disturbing Baby. 

As the days grow, his growls and snarls diminish before stopping outright. In the interim, your unease grows.

It's small—at first. 

He wants to be outside more. Always whining at the back door, scratching at it with his paw. When you let him out, he runs right to that spot by the fence. Sits down, and just stares. When you go out to look, there's nothing there. Just a dark, sprawling coppice. Cigarettes on the ground. But something catches his attention. Keeps it. Holds it.

He leads you to that spot sometimes, too. Nudges you with his big, furry head to your thighs. Shepherding you to the fence, and then sits back, clearly preening. Proud.

"You're mama’s silly boy, aren't you?" you coo, scratching his ears. It must be the neighbour. Maybe a stray deer wandered by. You catch a flash through the tree line. Twin puddles of black peering through the tangled weeds. Your dog perks up, looking towards it. A deer, you think. A stray buck. You huff, patting his head. "Made a new friend, huh?"

But you can't shake the feeling that something else is out there. That something is staring at you.

Nothing, you tell yourself, fighting off a shiver. It's fine. Fine. He sneaks off at night sometimes. You hear him playing in the hallway. Wandering around the house. The tack-tack-tack of his nails against the hardwood as he walks back to your bedroom lulls you back to sleep. You feel the bed dip. Something warm against your back. You sigh, melting into the sheets—

There's nothing to worry about.

He'll protect you.

But the next morning, you find him locked outside. The patio door shut. The deck is dried from the sun, but his fur is wet. It rained last night. You drifted in and out to the patter of it on your window. The soothing weight of his body curling around you—

He must have gotten out in the morning. Rolled around in the grass. But when you put him in the tub later to scrub the rainwater off of his cost, his belly is dry.

It's nothing. He was in bed with you last night. It's fine. Fine. Everything is easy to explain away as coincidence. Nothing usual. The feeling of being watched. The missing food from your fridge. The creaks of the old house at night. Things shifting around—keys missing only to turn up somewhere else. Rodents chewing through your landline. 

The panties you shed, tossing into a corner before getting into the shower going missing—

They’re just—lost in the wash. You must have thrown the leftover food away when you cleaned earlier and forgot. The lingering scent of cigarettes. Smoke in your bed. The cloying scent of loam, humus. Fresh dirt. The stains on your bed. The strange smear in the gusset of your panties when you peel them apart.

Something thick, firm between your thighs—

Fine. You tell yourself. Everything is fine. At best, it's a gas leak. At worst—well.

Baby will protect you. 

Always. 

But the next day, he brings his favourite toy to the back door, asking to be let out, and this isn't—

It's not normal.

He's possessive over his toys. Keeps them on his daybed and refuses to let anyone touch them. Only you. He doesn't bring the. Outside, either.

But when you peer outside a few minutes later, the toy is lying by that spot near the fence. He's sitting down, tail wagging. Happy. Excited. It continues like this for the next few days. He brings his toys to the fence, coming in later, licking his lips. When you brush his teeth at night, you smell something gamey on his breath. Meaty. 

Getting out of bed a few hours later and playing in the hallway. Going to sleep with you at night, but somehow getting out in the early hours of the morning, waiting for you on the patio when you remember the huff of his breath over your neck less than an hour ago—

No. You're just—

Getting the time wrong. It's fine. He'll protect you. He doesn't like anyone but you.

You hear footsteps in the hallway at night next to the click-clack of his nails. When you jump out of bed to check, it's just him. Sitting by the back door, head craned over his shoulder when he heard you coming. His favourite toy is sitting on the ground in front of him. You fight a shiver. The feeling of eyes burning into you churns your stomach.

"I'm going crazy, sweetheart," you coo, but feel the threads of your sanity begin to snap one by one. "But you'll keep me safe, right?"

His tail wags. You pretend not to notice the gap in the patio door. Opened just a crack. You shut it, forcibly telling yourself to remember to close it next time and fight the memories of locking it before settling on the couch to watch old re-runs. You drag him back to bed, burrowing your head into his fur, listening to the thud-thud-thud of his heart in your ear. 

When you dream that night, it's of a big, scarred hand making its way between your thighs. A rasping, masculine voice in your ear commanding you to be good—

You wake up with your thighs sticky, wet. Your cunt pulsing. There's an ache there; a sting. It twinges when you move, tapering into a sore throb as you swing your legs over the side of the bed, woken up by the strange dream—fingers between your thighs, a head resting on your belly, calling you a good girl—and a noise.

A low murmur comes from the living room. You wince with the first several steps, forcing yourself to ignore the uncomfortable feeling between your thighs. The wetness that drips down your leg, some of it already dried, sticking to your skin. It’s fine. You just had a—

A wet dream.

—everything is fine. Fine. Your heart lurches. Lodges in your throat. Each beat feels like a fist against your tissue trying to break down the prison of your flesh to flee. 

You slowly inch toward the hallway, the sound, making excuses for the fear that curdles in your belly. The itch in the back of your head that calls you stupid. Demands you go back to bed. To sleep. You’ll wake up in the morning to Baby slobbering over your chest, drooling as the time ticks away in a slow crawl towards his usual breakfast. 

It’s tempting. The sleep congealing in the corners of your eyes, weighing heavy—molasses-thick—over your sense of awareness: cobwebbed in that strange, uncanny realm of sleep and wakefulness; hypnagogia turning shadows on the walls into human shapes. The whisper of wind into the brassy drawl of a voice. 

Through it all, the prickle rears. Says something isn't right. Hasn't been right for a while now. It's fine. Everything is—

It doesn't make sense at first. Your brain tries to wrap around the images your eyes feed it. Untangling the dizzying sense of confusion that runs along your hindbrain like a jagged knife; grazing tissue, scraping over nerves. The picture comes together quickly. There's no misinterpreting the shapes.

A man is lounging on your couch. Legs kicked up on the coffee table, ankles crossed. The remote is held in one hand as he lazily flicks through the channels on your television screen. The picture of ease. So relaxed, so comfortable in your space, that you begin to feel a little bit like an intruder. A voyeur peering between the curtains.

This feeling is reinforced when you peel your eyes away from the horrifying mask on the man's face—a black balaclava—and find your dog lounging beside him. Resting with his head over this stranger's thick thighs. His head perks up when you approach, tail wagging, but he doesn't get up from his spot. Content to bask in the half-hearted attention the man doles, a hand buried in his fur. Dragging over his ears. Down his back. Monotonous flicks of his thick wrist, nearly the same width as the barrel of a baseball bat.

And that just trembles down your spine in the worst way.

He's the same height as you are sitting down. Takes up two cushions on the couch with his absurd bulk. Massive, you think. And then it all rushes through you. The knife slips into your cognisance.

There's a man in your house. Petting your dog,

your dog who tries to bite the same vet he's had for years. Who trusts, who likes, no one but you—

You make a noise. Something strangled in the back of your throat. Muffed, unable to escape through the clot of your heart getting there first. It tangles around your pericardium and is too late to take back. To swallow down. 

It doesn’t matter, though. 

The man has been watching from the beginning. 

Dark eyes (a dark, black flash between the leaves—) drill into you. Staring. That familiar, unease feeling is back again, creeping up your spine. It's been him the whole time, you know. The thing behind the fence. Must be. The same brand of cigarettes you found on the opposite side is sitting on your coffee table, right beside his feet.

His chest expands with his inhale. You smell stale smoke. Something wild. The scent of the forest after a summer's rain shower.

"Finally up, are you? Thought you were gonna sleep all day." His voice is deep. Brassy. The growling roll of an approaching thundercloud. You shiver. Jerk back, but—

Baby growls.

He's never done that before. Never barked. Never snarled. Never nipped.

But right now, his teeth peel back, muzzle wrinkling as he lifts his lips. And you know it's playful. Seen this look on his face when you throw the ball across the yard. It's just him being his silly self. He won't attack you. Won't maul you. 

The man lifts his hand and your dog limbers up. Shakes. He jumps off the couch and trots toward you. Nothing is threatening in the way he moves. It's the same lumbering gait, the same happy wag to his tail, but he moves himself around you. Stands between you and the only escape.

"Baby—?"

"Taught 'im a few tricks," the man drawls conversationally—like he wasn't a stranger in your house. "Got a good boy on your 'ands. Jus' needed a bit o'trainin'—”

He snaps his fingers and Baby moves. Bumps his head into the back of your thighs. Pushing you. Nudging you toward the man. It’s so horrifying familiar that you find yourself moving without a thought. Following along. 

"He jus' needed a man in the house, didn't he? A father figure—" 

You're going to be sick. Think you would have been already if your heart wasn't lodged tight in your throat, keeping everything down. 

The man lifts his hand. Curls his fingers. 

"C'mon, mommy," he taunts, voice a derisive roll. "Come sit on Daddy's lap. It's movie night tonight."

Baby pushes you forward happily, tail wagging, wagging—

Happier than you’ve ever seen him as this stranger reaches out, grabbing your waist and hauling you onto his lap. You think about fighting immediately, struggling to get out of his hold, but he moves back and the unmistakable, blunt press of a gun sends shivers rolling down your spine. You still instantly. Back drawing tight. Fear is a wet, hot pulse behind your ribs. 

“Don’t fight it, birdie—” You feel the warm, damp press of his mask against the shell of your ear. The ridges of his lips move beneath the fabric as he speaks. 

You hear him inhale, drawing in the scent of your shampoo—your fear: an oily thick miasma pooling behind your ears, against your nape—and feel tears pool against your lashline when a surge of familiarity wells up at the solid, firm weight of his chest against your spine. His thigh slips between yours, spreading them wide over the arch of his muscle. Limp, dizzy, you fall back into his chest when he pulls you in, slotting a burly arm over your ribcage. Locked in tight. A shackle. 

“Ain’t go’ nothin’ t’worry about,” he continues, hips shifting. Moving. And—

It’s a not gun. You know it isn’t. When you whimper, it throbs—

There’s the echo of a groan in his voice when he huffs, lips pursing into a kiss. “Nothin’ at all. C’mon, Baby—” 

And Baby obeys eagerly, jumping up on the couch beside him. His snout is warm, wet, when he presses it to your arm, sniffing. Please, you think, staring into his eyes as tears swell, pooling down your cheeks. Please—

But the man lifts his arm, and Baby circles the cushion before falling against his side with a deep, content sigh. Hope is snuffed out of your chest in an instant. The man’s hand falls to his head, rubbing his skull affectionately. 

“Good boy.” Baby perks. His happiness is a palpable thing that swells around you as he melts, eyes slipping closed. “Gonna be a good boy while mum an’ dad spend some time together, ain't you, boy?”

His arm tightens around your waist. Chin notches over your shoulder as he shifts back, legs kicking out to spread your thighs further apart.

"Now," he drawls, hand sliding down to the mess between your thighs. You shiver against him, toying with the idea of running, fleeing—but he must know. Senses it, maybe. He lifts his hips, pressing the gun into your spine. A threat. A warning. But with the way he swallows you up—broad chest closing in on you, trapping you on all sides—you know it's futile.

He has you.

Your submission makes him purr.

"Baby's sleepin', so now let daddy take care'o mommy—"

[glossdebut]

study break | MYG

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Yoongi was an extremely effective tutor, until he wasn’t. As it turns out, dating the person who is singlehandedly responsible for bringing up your Fundamentals of Music Theory grade isn’t the smartest move in the world. 

✧ TAGS: college au, smut, fluff

✧ WARNINGS: oral (f. receiving), vaginal fingering, slight overstimulation

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: okay, so this is NOT price of fame chapter two, nor is it the seokjin fic that i’ve been teasing for weeks. this is instead a secret third thing, inspired by my own post that has been living rent free in my brain for the past couple of days. i promise POF2 and the seokjin fic are both coming, but i had to get this out before i lost my damn mind. not beta read, so feel free to inform me of any mistakes i missed. P.S. i know the header isn’t debut yoongi, don’t fucking @ me about it!! i had this photo on hand ):

✧ WORDCOUNT: 2.2k words

Yoongi was an extremely effective tutor, until he wasn’t.

As it turns out, dating the person who is singlehandedly responsible for bringing up your Fundamentals of Music Theory grade isn’t the smartest move in the world. 

Things were so much easier when you—wrongfully—assumed he was an asshole. At least then, the arrangement was clear: you met him in the library, tried not to get annoyed at what a know-it-all he seemed to be for an hour, and then went back to your dorm with a slightly easier method of memorizing the circle of fifths under your belt. It went on like that for weeks. Quick and effective, mostly painless.

But then, when awkward small talk developed into genuine interest, you got to know him.

You learned that the reason he never takes notes in class is because he doesn’t have to. He taught himself all of the basics of music theory years ago, could’ve tested out and moved on to a more advanced class, but he wanted an easy A in his course load. You learned that he’s a classical piano major. He likes it just fine, but it’s really a means to an end. You learned that he writes his own raps, performs them at underground shows with a group of friends some weekends, that that’s what he really wants to do. You learned that he’s not an asshole and he’s just shy, that he’s been working up the courage to ask you out all semester.

You learned even more about him on your first date.

Such as: he’s the self-proclaimed master of grilling meat, and he’ll load up your plate for you before he even thinks of feeding himself. He may act like he’s not interested in going to the noraebang, but with just the slightest bit of insistence from you he’ll fold like a piece of paper. He thinks it’s cute when you snatch his snapback right off of his head and put it on your own. Even cuter when you fumble through a verse of Epik High’s ‘Love Love Love,’ squealing happily when he joins in. 

And: he kisses like he’s got something to prove. Knows all the right ways to use his tongue. Makes a low noise in the back of his throat when you do something he likes. Isn’t the slightest bit shy about pulling you into his lap, nor about slipping his hand into your panties right there, Epik High forgotten in favor of making you cum around his skilled fingers. 

So. Yeah.

Yoongi is no longer an effective tutor, because instead he is a fucking distraction.

You’re supposed to be studying. You had been studying, both of you putting up a valiant effort for a full hour and a half. But just as you’d gotten a firm grasp on the seven musical modes—Ionian, Dorian, Phrygian, Lydian, Mixolydian, Aeolian, Locrian—-Yoongi was whining, insisting on taking a break. You tried to put up a fight, but you’re especially weak when Yoongi gets all sulky, soft pink lips pulled into a pout.

Notecards tossed aside, your fifteen minute study break quickly devolves into half an hour of making out on Yoongi’s bed. As soft music filters into his dorm room from his laptop, you lose track of time with his tongue sliding against yours, the occasional sting of his teeth on your bottom lip because he knows you like it. When you feel his erection pressed against your hip it quickly becomes very clear that you’re both done studying for the time being.

The way Yoongi kisses you never fails to make you crazy. His lips on yours are gentle but commanding at the same time, his hands in your hair holding your head exactly where he wants it as he licks into your mouth like he owns it. When he pulls away, you barely have a chance to catch your breath before he’s trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Your hips rock up against his, desperate for friction. 

“Baby,” Yoongi murmurs against your skin. His hands slide down from your hair to gently tug at the waistband of your jeans, an index finger circling teasingly around the button. “Wanna eat you out. You want that?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, gasping when he nips at the underside of your jaw. Your voice is high, needy, foreign to your own ears. He’s good at that—at pulling sounds out of you that you didn’t know you could make.

He wastes no time in peeling your jeans down your legs, tossing them off the bed and out of his way. Yoongi likes to have as much space as possible when he eats you out, you’ve learned. He likes to take his time, spread you out as much as he can on his shitty dorm-provided twin size mattress. Just because he can make you cum in record time—and he can—doesn’t mean he likes to. Not when he’d much rather drag it out, savor you in every imaginable way until you can’t take it anymore. 

You know you’re in for it when he doesn’t take your panties off right away. Instead, when he settles between your thighs, all he does is look for a moment, his gaze laser-focused on the growing wetness seeping through the cotton. 

It lasts long enough that you start to squirm, his eyes flicking up to meet yours at the sudden movement.

“A-are you…?” you start, but you trail off, suddenly feeling way too fucking shy for something you’ve done with him more times than you can count at this point. 

“Yeah,” he hums, looking up at you with an amused smirk. “Yeah, I’m getting to it, sweetness. I just wanted to look at you for a second. Is that okay?”

You shiver, swallowing thickly as you nod.

“You sure?” he teases, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, so close to where you want him. “You don’t have anywhere better to be?”

“Shut up, Yoongi,” you complain, sitting up for a moment to flick him on the forehead.

“Yah, so disrespectful,” he admonishes with a bite right where he’d just kissed. “I’m just playing. I know you don’t wanna be anywhere else.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “I don’t,” you agree, suspicious. He’s up to something.

“No, you don’t,” Yoongi hums knowingly, holding your gaze as he presses a kiss right to your clit. It makes your breath hitch, even with your panties subduing the feeling. “Because you love the way I eat this pussy, don’t you, baby?”

The answer is yes, of course. Yoongi always makes you feel so good no matter what he’s doing, but eating you out is definitely where he excels. But something about how cocky he’s being makes something stir inside of you—-makes you feel a little bold, a little mean. 

“When you actually get around to it, yeah.”

Yoongi chuckles darkly, snapping the waistband of your panties against your hip. When he lifts his head his eyes are all pupil. “It’s like that, huh?” he asks, his tongue running over his teeth.

“Maybe,” you say, goading.

He clicks his tongue, dipping down to lick a broad stripe over your pussy without any warning. When he reaches your clothed clit, he wraps his lips around it and sucks hard, tearing a surprised moan from you.

“F-fuck!” Your fingers tangle in his hair, desperate for something to hold on to, but the overwhelming pleasure is gone as quickly as it came.

“Such a brat,” Yoongi mumbles, sinking his teeth into the softness of your inner thigh again, harder this time. “Just wanted to take my time, treat you nice. But if you want it like this, fine.”

Mercifully, his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties. He roughly drags them down your legs until they’re thrown onto the floor, out of sight just like your jeans.

You gasp when his fingers instantly slide over your slippery cunt, making you gasp. “You get this wet just from pissing me off?” he scoffs, and you shake your head. 

“N-no,” you whimper.

“No?” Yoongi asks, tilting his head at you with a smirk. You feel like you’re going to die when his fingers find your clit, rubbing in punishing little circles. “Tell me what gets you this wet, then, baby.”

“You!” you moan. It feels embarrassingly fast, but you’re close. You’re gonna cum before he even gets his mouth on you properly. Maybe that’s his goal. “You, fuck, Yoongi.”

“That’s right,” he purrs. “You gonna cum already, pretty girl? Before I even get to taste you?”

Oh, he knows exactly what he’s doing. Motherfucker. 

You wouldn’t be able to protest even if you wanted to, your brain already succumbing to the pleasant buzz of your impending orgasm. All you can do is squirm and rock up against Yoongi’s fingertips, completely at his mercy.

“That’s okay,” Yoongi continues, unbothered as you shake and moan in front of him. “I know you can give me another one. Go ahead, sweetness. Cum for me.”

Your release tears through you, sudden and intense and all-consuming. You’re sure there are words coming out of your mouth, but between the heat spreading through your body and the static buzzing in your ears, you honestly have no idea what they could be. Yoongi’s fingers keep rubbing at your abused clit until you’re trembling, gasping for breath between moans.

“Filthy girl,” he hums. Whatever you said must’ve been good, because he sounds almost proud of you as he runs his hands over your thighs. “You gonna let me take my time now?”

“Yes,” you gasp, still reeling from your orgasm. Yoongi taking his time is exactly what you need right now, or else you’ll go into complete overdrive. Absently, you think that was his plan all along, but that thought melts away as soon as Yoongi dips down and delves his tongue into your cunt, slow and thorough. 

Your brain? Empty. Brain so fucking empty.

“Shit,” he groans against you, his voice so low and gravelly you can feel the vibration of his words against your pussy. “You always taste so fucking good after you cum for me.”

You thread your fingers through his hair again, moaning long and low as he spreads you apart with his thumbs and dives back in. His nose nudges just slightly against your clit as he licks into you, the barely-there contact making your eyes roll back in your head.

“Yoongiiii,” you moan, earning an appreciative moan from him as he dips his tongue into your entrance.

Your first orgasm took you by surprise, but you can tell already that this one is going to be a slow burn, tendrils of heat that never really got a chance to fade spreading through your body, adagio.

As promised, Yoongi takes his sweet time. He sets an agonizing rhythm: licking into you, dragging his tongue up your pussy, gently sucking your clit into his mouth, over and over again until you’re practically a puddle on his mattress.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” you mewl, your thighs shaking around his head. You’d blush at the sounds he’s producing between your legs, slurping and sucking at you, if you weren’t so fucked out. Instead, all it does is turn you on even more, make you even wetter for him. 

Yoongi pulls back, huffing a laugh through his nose. “I know, baby,” he murmurs soothingly. “You ready to cum again?”

Wordlessly, you nod, squeezing your eyes shut. Two fingers tease at your entrance, getting nice and wet before Yoongi slides them in, and just like that, you’re ready to burst.

“Nnngh—fuck, ‘m so fucking close,” you slur, grasping at his hair as he pumps his fingers into you.

“Give it to me,” he says, before sucking your clit into his mouth again and making stars burst behind your eyelids.

His fingers curl just right, and then you’re moaning brokenly, bucking up against his fingers and mouth as you cum again.

It feels like it lasts forever. Yoongi moans around your clit as you clench around his fingers, squeezing tight tight tight as heat crashes over you in waves. You feel his fingers withdraw, and then his tongue is fucking into you again, licking every last drop he’s earned from you.

He only breaks away when you’re pushing at his head, overstimulated and spent.

“God, you’re so sexy,” he rumbles, climbing up the bed so he’s on top of you, bracing himself on his elbows. He’s one to talk. He always looks so good like this—swollen lips and dark eyes, the bottom half of his face slick from eating you out so fucking well. “You can just cum and cum for me, can’t you?”

“You are insane,” you breathe, grasping at the strings of his sweatshirt to pull him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. 

Yoongi chuckles, pulling away just to press his forehead against yours. “You like it,” he says.

“I like you,” you correct, closing your eyes. “Even though I’m going to fail my final because of you.”

That earns a real laugh from Yoongi, his nose scrunching. “You’re not gonna fail.”

“I am,” you say, nodding sagely. “But it’ll be worth it.”

“That so?” He presses another kiss to your lips, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“Mhmm,” you hum. “Besides, I’ll just find a better tutor next semester when I have to retake.”

That earns you a sharp jab of Yoongi’s fingers to your side, but he’s got one of those gummy smiles on his face as you squeal under him, so no harm done.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this fic! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future fics!

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[stark-ironman]

Separated

A/N: probably my longest fic yet haha. Honestly, I seen a video of Hugh literally picking up another woman in front of his wife at the time and this idea has been living in my head rent free for a few days now. I'm trying to get out of my writing slump. And no this is not proofread

Warnings: angst, jealously, mentions of pregnancy

"Y/N, love, I'm sorry. It honestly was all just for fun." Hugh tries to explain as you start packing your bag. "Fun? You call flirting and picking another woman up in front of me, fun? Smiling and touching her waist all while I had to stand there and keep a fake smile on my face!" You exclaim, looking at him with fiery eyes. "What did you expect me to do? If I said no then I would've been accused of calling her fat and my career would've taken a massive hit!" He raises his voice and throws his hands in the air.

Taking a deep breath, you try to suppress your anger as you look at him. "So, your career is more important than your marriage?" You ask, quietly. "No, I never said that." Hugh tries to reach out for you but you back away from him, crossing your arms over your stomach. "You embarrassed me in front of everybody. All those interviews you've done where you flirt with the hosts and picking that woman up tonight, you've embarrassed me for the last time. We have this argument just about every time you do an interview because of how you act on them, and this is the last time I stand here and feel embarrassed and unworthy of your love. I'm leaving and I don't want you following me. You want to flirt with every single woman in this world then fine, your wish has come true." You take your ring off and set it on the dresser, not once sparring a glance at Hugh as you grab your suitcase and quickly leaving the house.

You drive to the nearest hotel to check in, noticing some of Hugh's friends standing outside but you walk right past them, hearing them whisper amongst themselves as to why you're there, but you continue on to your room.

Once up to your room, you lock the door and immediately hop in the shower. Tears flow down your face as you think back to all the arguments you and Hugh have had over the past couple of years, especially when it comes to him having to flirt with every single woman he is around. You understand it comes with the job for fans and interviewers to flirt with him, but he refuses to set boundaries because it 'hurts his career' as he puts it.

You set a boundary with all the men who interview you or hang around you to not flirt or touch you inappropriately, especially after Hugh got over-jealous one time, and it never hurt your career any. Two years you have wondered why he does it but you can never figure out why. When he's with you, he is the happiest man in the whole world but the moment another woman flirts with him, it's like something flips inside and he turns into a different person, especially when he didn't used to be like this.

Hugh was absolutely crazy about you in the beginning. He wouldn't even glance at another woman but now it's like he craves the attention even though he gets all of yours.

Wiping your tears, you finish showering and get dressed, grabbing your phone as you lay on the bed. You see numerous text messages from your friends about a TMZ link so you look at it and are immediately shocked.

Y/N & Hugh Jackman Reportedly Separate.

Who the fuck told TMZ..

----

A few weeks later, you wake up the next morning to knocking at your door. Silently cursing to yourself, you open it to see Hugh standing there with bags under his eyes and his beard starting to grow out.

"I thought I told you to leave me alone?" You spit, going to shut the door but he stops it. "Please, can we just talk for a minute?" His voice is soft but hoarse, making you wonder if he's been drinking anything. "I told you the other night I was done talking. I've talked for years and you didn't want to listen then." You say trying to shut the door again.

"Y/N, please." He begs and you notice tears forming in his eyes, causing your heart to slightly break. "Five minutes, that's it." You step aside to let him in, shutting the door behind you.

The two of you stand in silence and you watch as he fidgets with his ring, one thing he does when he's nervous to calm him down. "How did you find me?" You ask even though you know the answer. "A couple friends texted me the night you left that you was here." He barely says, coughing a little.

You grab a bottle of water from the fridge, handing it to him as he whispers a thank you. He drinks it and you go sit on the couch, motioning for him to follow.

"I'm sorry," He starts, "I know I've hurt you for a while now and I never wanted to do that but looking back at what I've done, I understand what's wrong. I tried every interview to set a boundary but the interviewers always wait until im on camera to ask me to say or do certain things that if i say no, it makes me look bad. Even my management team said if I tell them no then my career is ruined. My career is no where near as important as you are but darling, I love what I do. I don't want to lose my career but I don't want to lose you either."

"Do you remember when we first got married and I done that interview with Jimmy, the one he was flirting the whole time and you got really pissed off?" He nods and you continue, "What's different about you being jealous versus me?" His head turns down and you know he's finally understanding where you're coming from.

"I'm really sorry." Hugh chokes out, letting the tears fall down his face this time. "I don't know if sorry is going to work this time." You quietly say. "I fucked up and I don't expect your forgiveness. I don't deserve your love or anything." Hugh stands up, heading towards the door and looks at you as he opens it.

"I'll go file for divorce today and have the papers sent by the end of the day." He says and walks out, leaving you by yourself with your thoughts.

Divorce?

You never mentioned wanting a divorce, you really just wanted separation so he could realize the mistakes he made. Which leaving your ring didn't help any and that was a heat of the moment type of thing but you figured he would have tried to fix things before running to a lawyer.

You decide to go out for a cup of coffee so you head to the nearest shop, sitting down in a isolated corner of the building as you scroll your phone, seeing all the news articles trying to pick apart yours and Hugh's relationship.

As you drink your coffee, you see a full flash from the corner of your eye and quickly stand up, heading out of the shop and running straight for the hotel.

"Y/N! Where's Hugh at? Why did you two split?" You hear several paps asking but you ignore them, running straight into the lobby and you're thankful this hotel doesn't allow cameras inside. You start walking towards the elevators, hearing the paps start up again as someone walks through and you turn around, seeing Hugh's assistant walk through the doors with some papers.

'Well that was fast.' You thought to yourself. "Mr. Jackman wanted me to bring these to you." He says handing you the papers.

Taking them out of his hand, you see the word divorce at the top of the paper and hand it back to the assistant. "Take them back and tell him I don't want them." You say giving them back. "But, Mr. Jackman told me to give them to you and make sure everything was in order before I brought them back." He tells you.

"Kid, I don't want the papers. If this is a big issue then call Hugh and tell him I don't want them. I'm going up to my room now so go ahead and do whatever else you need to do." You smile as you walk away, heading back up to your room.

The moment you walk inside, your phone starts going off so you answer it.

"Hello?" You ask.

"Why did you turn away the papers?" Hugh's confused voice fills the phone.

"If you would have given me a moment to talk, you would have known I never wanted a divorce. I wanted you to try to fix things with us before going that route because I do still love you." You sit on the couch, listening to him sigh.

"I'm the stupidest man on this entire planet. I should've let you tell me your feelings, I'm sorry." His voice cracks but you don't think he's crying, yet.

"I want to work on these things with you, Hugh, but I want you to be able to figure out what all you have to fix on your own." You tell him, looking out the window.

"I've already fired my management team for making me believe I couldn't set boundaries and I'm releasing a statement today announcing that I'm taking a long break from doing interviews until people can start respecting the limits I set." He shuffles around and a small smile form's on your face.

"You really did all of that?" You ask.

"I did and I'm going to do more. I want my best friend back home with me." He softly tells you causing your tears to well up as he continues, "Can I take you out tonight?"

"Hugh, don't you think it's too soon?" You ask but he stops you.

"If you think so then just tell me no."

You think about it and your mouth speaks before your brain can come up with a reason. "Let's do it."

"I'll be there at 6, darling." He says before hanging up.

You look at the time, noticing it's 4 now so you get up and start getting ready.

After getting ready, you hear a knock on the door so you look at the time, noticing Hugh shouldn't be here for a few more minutes and you open it to see one of his friends standing there.

"Can I help you? Did something happen to Hugh?" You ask, confused. "The only thing that happened to Hugh was he lost the most beautiful girl by flirting with every one else." The man says, lifting a hand up to your face but you smack it away. "Don't touch me." You tell him but he steps closer. "I know you've wanted me for a long time so don't sit here and act like that." His foot steps inside but he gets flung back into the wall and you look in shock as Hugh starts punching him.

You run up to him, placing your hand on his shoulders causing Hugh to relax against you but he stands up, holding your face in his hands. "Are you okay?" He quietly asks, eyes meeting yours. You nod and hug him.

"Come on, Hugh. You know she doesn't want you anymore." The guy says from the floor and he turns around to look at him. "She didn't want you either, mate, but you tried forcing your way into her room after she said no." Hugh snarls as he kicks the guy so you grab his hand and lead him inside, locking the door.

You grab his hand and lead him to the bathroom, sitting him on the toilet as you start bandaging his hand. "This is not how I wanted our first date to start out." He tells you with a chuckle. "First date, huh." You state, looking up at him to notice he shaved his beard off.

He nods, taking your hand in his as he looks at you with soft eyes that speak a thousand words. "We should go if we're going to make our reservation." Hugh says after a few minutes, causing you to straighten up and finish his hand. "Alright, your hand should be all better." "Thank you, love." He tells you as he stands up.

You both walk out of the room and head downstairs, seeing the paparazzi still standing outside. "Is it okay if I hold your hand?" He asks and you nod, interlacing your fingers with his as he leads you out. The cameras flash like crazy as Hugh leads you to his car and he helps you in before getting in on his side.

"I wish I knew who told the media about our separation." He grumbles after he's been driving for a few minutes. "When I arrived to the hotel that night, there was a group of your friends outside, one being the guy you beat up tonight." You tell him. "Well you don't have to worry, I'm getting a new phone tomorrow and cutting a lot of people off." Hugh says, glancing over at you.

"You don't have to do that." You look over at him to see him shaking his head. "No, I have to do it. They're nothing but trouble for me anyways." He continues driving until he gets to fancy restaurant, leading you inside and acting like the sweet and kind Hugh that you fell in love with originally.

----

After dinner, Hugh takes you back to the hotel but notices the paps are still outside. "Love, why don't you just come back home? I'll sleep in the guest room but I don't want you being harassed anymore." He tries to reason. You think about it especially since you're tired of staying here. "I need to get all of my stuff if I do." You tell him and he pulls his phone out, sending a quick text before driving off.

"My assistant will get it tonight so don't worry." You smile when he says that, reaching your hand over to grip his. Hugh's hand squeezes yours tightly and you see a smile work it's way onto his face.

The drive to the house is fairly quiet and when you get there, he grabs some clothes and goes to the guest room like he promised. You change into some comfier clothes and lay on the bed, tv playing in the background with the volume off, as you try to go to sleep but after hours of tossing and turning, you sigh and get up.

Walking through the house, you think of all the memories that are here and you zone out thinking of everything, noticing you're in front of Hugh's door so you knock quietly. He opens the door and you're met with his broad, shirtless chest and he looks at you with a smile but has a confused look on his face.

"Is something wrong?" He asks. "Can I stay with you? I can't sleep." You quietly say and he steps aside, letting you in. You both get in the bed and he turns the light back off as well try to go to sleep.

Turning over, you lay your head on his chest and he wraps his arm around you to hold you closer, causing you to fall asleep quickly for the first time in 3 weeks to the sound of his heartbeat.

-----

A few more weeks pass and things have gotten entirely better for the two of you. Hugh held up his promises and set boundaries for everybody and he made sure to put out a statement regarding his behavior during the interviews and taking accountability on his part, he even goes to therapy and takes you along with him every couple of days.

Which, a couple of days ago you woke up deathly sick and after Hugh left to get some medicine, you took a pregnancy test and found out you're pregnant so now you're getting ready to go to your ob to find out how far along you are. You just have to tell Hugh and hope this doesn't backtrack all the work you two have done over the past few weeks.

"Hey, love." Hugh says, walking in and kissing your cheek as you greet him back. Yes, cheek, you two haven't made it back to kissing each other yet but you're hoping it's soon.

"Do you feel like taking me to the doctor? I still feel a little queasy after these past few days." You tell him and he nods, wrapping his arms around you. "I wonder what could be going on. You're not running a fever or anything like that and it's honestly got me concerned." He softly says, pressing a hand against your forehead.

"That's actually what I want to talk to you about," You look up and see his eyes glimmer as he looks at you causing you to smile softly before continuing, "I took a test a couple days ago and found out... I'm pregnant." Hugh looks down at you and you see his face go through several emotions before a smile breaks out on his face.

"Are you serious?" He excitedly asks and you nod. Hugh hugs you tightly, kissing your forehead before leaning down and kissing you deeply, feeling the world around you stop when he does. Your arms wrap around his neck and pull him closer, feeling his arms wrap around your waist as he lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips.

"Is this okay?" He whispers against your lips. "More than okay." You whisper back as both of your lips connect again, his tongue gliding over your bottom lip.

"Shit, we have an appointment to get to." You breathe out, pulling back slightly. He nods and holds you there, burying his face in your neck. "Just give me a minute." He tells you and that's when you feel his erection straining against his pants.

"I'm sorry, hon. I didn't mean to get you hard." You apologize, holding him close. "Trust me, love, it doesn't take much for me to get turned on by you but I'll be okay. I'm just glad to have you back in my arms again." He admits, kissing your shoulder softly.

Your fingers play with the hair on his neck as he holds you in silence.

"Let's go to my appointment and we can talk about where we're at now. Okay?" You say as he sets you down gently and he nods, following you out to the car.

Once to the ob's office, you're lead back and they give you a sheet to put over your lower half so they can do an ultrasound. Hugh grabs your hand, staring at you lovingly as the tech starts checking you. A heartbeat fills the room causing you both to look at the screen and tears to flow out your eyes. Hugh kisses your forehead softly, smiling down at you.

"Well. Mrs. Jackman, it looks like you are 8 weeks along and the baby has a pretty strong heartbeat. You should be able to find the gender out at the next appointment." She says handing you the pictures she took. You nod and Hugh leads you out, taking you home after setting up your next appointment.

Once home, you notice there's food laid out on the table and you look at Hugh, confused. "I had planned a surprise for you tonight but I forgot about it when you told me about the baby. I hope it's okay." Hugh says with a bit of uncertainty. "It's more than okay." You smile as he leads you to the table, pulling your chair back for you and helping you sit down.

You two eat dinner, joking and laughing with each other the whole time and it feels like your relationship feels normal again. "Y/N, I want you to know that I feel bad about upsetting you the way I did a few weeks ago and for the past couple of years and I'm thankful everyday that you've given me a second chance to prove that you're the only person I want. I never want to live my life again without you in it so will you please marry me, again?" He asks getting on one knee in front of you.

You nod, pulling him into a hug after he puts your ring back on and he grips you tightly. "I love you, hon." You say, feeling tears come after saying that to hugh after a month of not saying it. "I will love you forever, darling. I promise."

[bananami]

STFUATTDLAGG

character/s: choso kamo x afab!reader

SYNOPSIS: meangirl!reader x loser!choso is a pairing that lives in my head rent free so when you all voted for choso to be the next hot man i wrote for i knew this was what would come out of it so let’s get into it whores

WARNINGS: this is college based bc u know why. 18+, nsfw, mdni, the whole shebang, kiddos avert ur eyes IT'S ALL SMUT / also just be aware i did use fem language for reader. as always, i did not proof read xxx

A/N: delusion is like drugs for simps, and i am the crackhead

Choso isn't like a nerdy loser, more like he’s just an emo boy, he’s got that alternative look going on and in a school full of preppy rich kids he stands out like a sore thumb. Of course this leads to some not so nice kids being not so nice to him, to which like he literally could not care less. He pays no mind to what anyone thinks of him beyond of course what his brothers think of him.

And as much as people aren’t nice to him, they do not fuck with him directly, lowkey scared of his reactions. Especially following a specfic incident in which someone tried to pick a fight with him. At first he was going to just let it slide but then they said something rude about Yuuji and this man laid them out. People were sent to urgent care and everything. Choso was put on suspension and almost kicked out, but their family friend is a lawyer and threatened to sue the school and anyways (if you know who you know who) so he was allowed back at school and everyone’s a little weary of him. This doesn’t stop the mean comments from coming.

And you. You’re no exception. You made fun of him every chance you got. The way he always did his hair in that weird double bun updo, or how he had his nails painted black, his various piercings and tattoos, the way he dressed so much different, was so much different, than any of the other guys you knew at school.

And you were so disgustingly attracted to him. While everyone would sneer and make fun of him and you played along, in reality you were internally berating yourself.

Choso did his best to ignore you but to be honest in the end you were just too fun to mess with. He thought it was cute how you thought you could hurt his feelings, how you really tried, and didn’t realize that he had a thing for brats and that’s just what you were. Everyone else was too afraid to say it straight to his face ever since the fight except for you.

One time he caught you staring at him and he couldn’t help himself, leaning over with a careless smirk. "If you spent less time staring at me and more time paying attention to the lecture maybe you wouldn’t be failing the class."

"Fuck you, Choso.”

"You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You hoped he’d mistake your embarrassment for anger. He didn’t. You snapped back, as usual. "Maybe if you didn’t dress like such a freak, you’d actually have some friends.”

"Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch your boyfriends would actually stick around for longer than a few months."

The one stung, and you tried not to let it show. Thrown off your game, all you could bring yourself to reply back was: “don’t call me a bitch.”

He shrugged, as though he were bored with the conversation already. "I never said it was a bad thing, just that you keep dating dudes who can’t handle you."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He doesn't answer though, and you spend way too much time thinking about what he could've meant. Was he implying that he could handle you? Was that why he constantly found ways to poke at you? Did he like when you were a brat? Did it matter if he liked it? It led your fantasies down a deep and dark rabbit hole that you spent weeks harping on.

Things get even worse after you realize that Choso might’ve been right about your grades slipping and staring at him in class and whatnot. And (for plot reasons of course) that would mean your professor paired you up with him for the final project so that you’d stand a better chance at passing the class.

Which is how you find yourself standing outside of his apartment door, debating how much you need to actually pass the course for your degree. You kept coming to the same conclusion. You definitely needed to.

"You just gonna stand at my door like a creep or can you move so i can let you inside?” He stood at the top of the staircase up to his apartment, watching you with another bored expression.

You're reaction is second nature. "I’m the creep? How long were you just standing there watching me? Maybe I’d already knocked and you didn’t answer so I was waiting. Let’s get on with it, I don’t need anyone seeing me hanging around-”

"Alright relax, princess. No one’s around to hear you act like you hate me. Come inside and I’ll grab us something to drink.” He opened the door to let you both inside, holding it open for you to enter first.

"First off, I do hate you. And second, how do I know you’re not going to poison me?”

"Don’t worry, I wouldn’t poison you. The plan was going more in the direction of choking.”

"Choked to death? Good to know.”

"You implied killing. All i said was choking.”

"Oh, gross.” You groaned. You pushed away the images that were brought to your mind. Choso's hand around your throat, fingers in your mouth, his breathy whispers telling you what else he'd have you choking on by the end of the night.

It's not too bad for the first few hours. You start out working on the project in the living room, but Choso’s neighbors are loud as all hell and you eventually ask if you guys can move into a room away from that shared wall. And (of course for plot purposes) that would be his bedroom.

"Your bedroom is exactly as I pictured it would be."

"This is the part where I make fun of you for picturing what my bedroom looks like."

"Yeah weird and creepy, just like you.”

"Your insults are getting less and less creative.”

"Yeah well….shut up.”

He’s surprised at that, usually you’d come back at him with something witty and clever and he actually enjoyed it.

It’s quiet and he’s sitting at his desk while you lay casually on his bed when he decides now’s as good a time as ever, and he might never actually get you alone again to say it.

"You ever gonna admit that you find me attractive or keep lying to the both of us?"

You wince. "I don't find you attractive. Stop flattering yourself."

"You flatter me enough with all the staring and drooling you do over me in class."

"You're obsessive," you snap at him.

"At least i can admit it."

You're caught off guard, stuck between wanting to ask what he means and not wanting to give in to the obvious baiting he's doing. When he throws the study material down on to his desk and plops down in front of you on his bed, it seems like he's resigned to not giving you that choice.

"Tell you what, I'll tell you all of the dirty and depraved things I think about on a daily basis, and you can decide after whether you'd like to share those same thoughts of yours with me or not."

"Why would I want to hear any of the thoughts in your head?"

"Because a lot of them revolve directly around you." He's leaned so close you're almost touching one another. Your silence is enough to spur him on. "I think you've never been fucked properly before."

You can't contain the look that falls on your face. "Seriously? This what you think about? My sex life is none of your business, but I'm doing just fine in that department, thank you very much."

He ignores you. "I don't think you've ever been told to shut the fuck up and take it like the good girl I know you can be." That shut you up real quick. Choso is on his knees in front of you, hands cupping around your neck, his thumbs running across your cheeks. "You're whiney little fucking attitude not do it for your boyfriends?" He teased. "They not know how to deal with you when you're being a brat, huh?"

You're head moves without conscious effort, nodding to agree with him.

"You just want some attention, don't you?"

Another nod.

"You want my attention, don't you?"

Hesitation. But you can't help yourself, his presence looming heavy over you, pushing you to admit what you'd kept in the dark for so long.

One of his hands slithers from your throat, down your chest, under the sweats you threw on in a rush to get to his apartment. You're so distracted by his fingers that you don't notice his face moving closer until his mouth is prying yours open. That's all it takes from him to have you stroking your fingers through his hair, pulling it out of the buns they typically are held in.

"Such a little brat." He's hovering over you, pushing your hips into the soft cushion of his bed with his. "Feel how hard it makes me?" He teases as he grinds his hips down, his clothed cock sliding against your center. Your eyes flutter and he grips onto your face with one hand, squeezing firmly. "You're gonna fuck me tonight. Nod if you understand."

You can't believe how quick your head moves up and down. "You're gonna take off those pretty little panties you wore hoping I'd get to see and slide up and down my dick until I tell you to stop. I don't want you cumming until I feel you've begged enough."

It takes no time at all for him to flip the two of you and prop himself up on his forearms. His pants are shimmied off and thrown to his bedroom floor alongside yours.

Your hands are desperate to line him up, anticipation building to have him deep inside of you, but his shoot out to pull them up and place them against his chest. "No, no, no. You don't get me inside you yet, not until you prove to me you deserve it." He urges you along his shaft, flat against his stomach. "That's right, be a good little slut for me and let me feel that pussy slide against my dick."

You watch him from above, his face contorting from concentration to pleasure to near desperation. You've never felt as powerful as you did riding him. Not a single one of your boyfriends ever turning you on as much as Choso was right now. He made you work for it, praising you when you did what he asked, and you chased that praise.

"Shit, look at that baby," he grabbed your hair and yanked your face down to watch yourself slide against him. "Need to feel you squeeze that pussy around me. Fuck, slide me in, slide me in-" his loud groans matched your high pitched sound of relief at having him seated inside you. "Fuck this."

He flipped the two of you back over, gripping each of your legs and forcing them up. "Hold right under your knees for me. Good girl, keep yourself open for me, let me just use you." He fell to his forearms as he plowed into you, giving you no time to get used to any sort of pace.

You tried your best to hold your legs, but you wanted so badly to touch him. One of your hands wandered back up into his lose hair.

He could barely keep his eyes open, mumbling all kinds of truths you were sure he would've kept locked inside had he not been so drunk on the feel of being inside you. "So fucking pretty," he kissed you sloppily, "such a stupid fucking brat, just needed my cock inside you. Feel like heaven, baby. Gonna let me cum inside your little cunt, right? Made me wait so fucking long to have you, I deserve it. Don't I deserve it?"

You can barely form any coherent words, setting for nodding and breathy uh huhs.

"So fucking mean to me, and look how good I'm being to you, huh?" You feel the light slap of his head against your cheek. "Say your sorry, beg me to cum inside your pussy."

You do beg, your apology comes out in between the stuttering and slurring of your words, but you beg and plead with him until he concedes. It his own orgasm that pushes you over, his groans and relentlessness that follow, pushing himself passed the point of no return. You can see the beginning of what looks like tears in his eyes, and he has to force himself to stop, his hips jerking from the overstimulation.

He kisses you ruthlessly, letting his tongue claim your mouth in a manner more harsh than it is anything else. And when he pulls away and his eyes settle back on yours they're equally as harsh.

"No more shitty little boyfriends that can't handle you. I'll handle you. You want my cock, you ask nicely. Understand?"

"Yes," you let your lips peck his, surprising him, "what if I don't wanna be nice about it?"

He smirks, "try it and find out. Now get on your knees and suck my cock like the good girl I know you can be."

[starzgaze]

Just a though rmb that time u made hae-in and Jinwoo fight for y/n? I just rmbered it randomly and I propose:

Hs Jinwoo and Hae-in both regressing and they're pining for Y/N who used to be a mage/healer/support for them.

Ur local hottest boy in school + The it girl and Track Running champion of another school fighting for y/n's hand

this has been living rent free in my head to the point ive unconsciously drawn it LMAO so art down below if u scrolllll

okay but this concept with an extremely mundane [name]?? hello especially someone who's just trying to get past school with average grades and average effort then maybe with a few volunteering here and there where it's coincidentally being the assistant for the coah in the track and field team.

[name] being known for helping a few people and having an affinity when it comes to patching up people and helping them so volunteer work is just light work for them so they didn't mind as much when the things they do during their time in the track and field team is tossing water to the runners and sometimes fixing them up if they trip or break an ankle. being part of the red cross club last year really helps in these situations.

then [name] meets jinwoo who's the new member in the team and someone who just suddenly transferred to the school, saying it was about his father getting a promotion and they needed to move places.

[name] believes this because everyone has their own situations but it was in fact jinwoo finally finding out what school [name] was in after a few years of trying to search for them then he transferred school, not caring if it's the middle of the school year. of course [name] doesn't know this.

then those two gets closer and jinwoo tries to charm [name] with silly jokes and impressive stamina and speed whenever he's on the field, leaving [name] awe struck. it was obvious to everybody else that the new extremely handsome hotshot of the track and field team had a little thing for the stupidly mundane volunteer who only took the job because they needed something for their community service hours.

just as about this man was gonna ask [name] out the coach of the track and field team announces that now on during after class practices another student from a different school will be attending their training program and blow and behold it's fucking cha hae-in much to jinwoo's dismasy.

hae-in isn't much experienced with this whole regression thing so she's less prepared compared to jinwoo but her persistence and determination just to see her sweet little [name] again what helped her pulled through and landed her here.

hae-in took the program through some connections and begging to her coach to let her train under a different school, claiming it will help her grow and the coach believed her because how can you deny your favourite athlete that's stupidily amazing in the sport? anyway hae-in successfully got into [name]'s school without moving in even if it's not the whole day, seeing [name] was more than enough for her.

that is until she saw her number one rival at the corner, hae-in compares him to a cockroach with how he can't leave her sigh and his sense of fashion that's constantly dark themed. she's low-key pissed that he's here, like just leave her alone and her cutie [name] that's not for him.

[name] spends more time with the two, now hae-in is in the picture. they would help hae-in whenever she would get a sprain and give her tips on what to do to alleviate the pain and get better asap before the regionals or take her out to hang out because it was easier being the same gender. jinwoo is fuminggg at this because it took him like months to do that and for hae-in it took like a measly few weeks?? that's so unfair

suddenly the two get into little competitions with eachother trying to impress [name] and of course they noticed but they don't believe that the two most sought after players in the school or even the region would have a thing for them, they're just good friends.

that drives them insane but it's okay one of them will make you realize it's more than that!! it's just a matter of time and effort you'll be in their arms.

btw imagine after school going out with the two and you guys eat at some street vendor spot then they argue who could pay. they get so distracted with arguing you just pay for yourself as you watch with the street vendor the two fighting.

[lovelywyenn]

“Man Junk”

★college student! Kyojuro Rengoku x college student fem!Reader★ Synopsis★There was something too sexy about your roommate Kyojuro. You couldn't be blamed for wanting to grind on his meaty thighs.★ Includes★Teasing, Choking, Kissing, squirting, humping, thigh humping, roommate fucking★ ★W.C★3.2k

You were happy as hell to finally be on your own. No longer held down by your parents, free to grow into your own person. To explore the world as a young adult. 

Having gotten into a good college far away from home, you were bonafide by yourself now. Unfortunately that meant financially as well. Your parents gave you a choice. You could either go to college locally and they would help you pay for it as long as you lived at home. Or you could go, and cut off contact. And never see another penny from them again. 

It was a hard choice, but one you needed to make. You couldn’t be under their control anymore. 

So you left, packed all your things and got on a plane across the country. And here you were, at your new university. 

The first few weeks here were….expensive. A little too expensive for the small convenience store job you had. So soon, on campus living turned into an impossible wish. And late nights studying ended up being paired with searching for apartments nearby with tenants looking for roommates. 

It took a while, but eventually you found someone who was offering an affordable amount of rent and who seemed decent. 

A girl named Kyojuro Rengoku. It was a pretty name and the girl sounded nice enough on her profile. So after  a bit of paperwork and packing, you were on the way to your new home and to see your new roommate.

It was early morning when you arrived at the apartment complex. It was just as nice as all of the photos you had seen. Nice brown brick surrounded each complex and the area was nice and gated. You even spotted a pool on the premises. All this for only $500 a month on your part was definitely worth it.

You locate apartment building 3 and use the key you were mailed a few days earlier to head inside. The only bad part about this place was the fact your apartment was on the second floor. You decide to take this one bag at a time. Lugging your first suitcase up the stairs with you. You knock on the door, breathing heavily. You really need to get your muscles up. 

The door opens and you let out a sigh, “Hey girly!, mind helping me with my bags, i packed a shit ton and they’re heavy as-”

“Girly?” a voice says. And it was the exact opposite of what you were expecting. 

You peer up from where you were looking, craning your neck in an attempt to see the entirety of the person standing in front of you. 

Turns out Kyojuro was not a sweet girl. But a big ass man. A hot one at that. And in that moment you wished you weren’t in the baggiest and bleach stained sweater you owned, a raggedy scarf on your head.

This guy had to be a giant, he towered over you. It would have been menacing if his demeanor wasn’t so kind. 

“Kyojuro?” you question dumbly. Who the hell else would be in Kyojuro’s house. 

A deep laugh rumbles from the man, “Yeah, I'm guessing you’re Y/n” he says and you nod. 

“Gotta say, I thought you were a dude little lady” he says, and you gasp in slight offense. You had thought you came off as very feminine. 

“Well I thought you were a girl!” you say right back. 

Kyojuro’s hands reach out for your bag, easily lifting the suitcase as if it weighed nothing. Your eyes lingered alone in his arms. How in the world was it possible for a man to be so strong.

“Thank you” you find yourself saying as he leads you back to where your room was. Your eyes trail along the apartment, taking in your surroundings. Much like the apartment complex, the pictures of your new home were accurate. The kitchen was spacious, with nice brown cabinets. And the living room was cute and cozy, a flat screen mounted on the wall.

As you walk, Kyojuro tells you where everything is. The linen closet is to your left, the bathroom is further down on your right. Finally he passes his room and then makes it to yours. The room already has a bed. The room was pretty plain and it would take some decorating. But your new room was nice, and spacious. You could work with it. 

“Got any more bags Y/n?” Kyojuro asks and you nod, “Yeah, but I can get them-”

But Kyojuro’s already gone downstairs, pulling up boxes and bags you had. You could already tell that living with Kyojuro was going to be interesting. But it would be nice to finally have some form of independence. Plus, Kyojuro seemed like a really nice boy. 

A nice one with strong hands, and thighs that should be illegal.

—--------------------------

Life is a bit easier now. You were actually able to save money and weren’t scavenging for leftover money every month. Plus living with Kyojuro was so easy. He wasn’t a slob, he kept after himself. Washing dishes, cooking meals when it was his turn. He was a sweetheart too, helping you with homework and things like that. 

He was a year older than you, a sophomore at the same university you went to. Often driving you to class and things like that. 

It was stupid, the way you were slowly growing a bit too attached to your roommate. But how could you be blamed? He was too fine. It should have been illegal to look as good as him. You didn’t know you had a thing for bigger guys until you met him. But you had never met a guy built like him in all of your lifetime. 

He had a good foot on you, and never failed to make your neck ache from the way you had to crane it from looking up at him. His hair was long, dyed to mimic the colors of fire. Often, when he was home he let it fall completely down, the wispy hairs closer to the front of his scalp flowing over his face.

But your favorite part was how strong he was. His shoulders were so wide, sloping down into muscular arms and veiny hands. His thighs were so thick they almost beat yours. The only difference being that yours were soft and smooth. While his were heavy and strong. 

How could any girl not fall for him? He was strong, smart, and thoughtful. Triple threat. 

Too bad for you though. Your first crush with freedom seemed to be all but interested in you. It was admirable, how studious he was. But…you wanted his attention to be off his books and on you for once. 

You might have been delusional, some might even call you crazy. But you had a pretty good plan. What man could resist a pretty girl like you walking around in nothing but their panties.

There were a lot of things that could go wrong with what your plan was. Kyojuro could genuinely not be into you and you’d end up making a fool of yourself. Kyojuro could kick you out for being so indecent. 

But whenever you looked at Kyojuro, your care about all the consequences faded away. The possibility of pleasure clouding over your mind. 

So gradually, you walked around in less and less clothing. You even went a little over budget for the month and bought yourself some lacier panties. 

And the games began. 

Kyojuro noticed. How could he not. 

He had a very similar fascination with you as you had with him. When he first saw you, bare faced and beautiful it took everything in him to keep his cool. He had never seen someone as beautiful as you. 

You were short…ridiculously so. It hurt his neck to have to look down at you. But the view was worth it. So worth it. 

Beautiful you were, big eyes that always looked up at him with what he hoped was admiration. You were so gorgeous he felt himself losing his cool around you all the time. Fighting for his eyes to stay on your eyes instead of trailing all over you. He was a gentleman after all. 

Focusing on school and keeping his gaze off of you was the only way to not be distracted by you, constantly in his vicinity.

But that grew impossible, when you started walking around without pants on. At first, Kyojuro thought you were just wearing shorter shorts. After all, he had a few female friends who loved the short shorts and oversized shirt combination. 

Though he was proven wrong when you were carrying some papers back to your room and dropped a few. He meant to stand and help you pick them up but got his breath taken away from the sight of you bending over to pick your papers up. 

You were definitely pantsless. And the underwear you were wearing barely deserved the title of undergarments. 

It was pink, a color he learned was your favorite, with lace along the edges of it. The fabric was netted, see through, allowing a super clear view of…everything. Fuck you had a pretty pussy. He could see you had shaved, pretty lips on display. From this angle he could almost see your clit. And honestly, just the glance had him hardening in his pants. Now he was wishing he had chosen something that would have made his boner less obvious. 

As you stand up you peer back at Kyojuro. And you see his hands shoot to his cock in an effort to conceal his hard on. 

The man swears he sees a small smirk on your face as you strut away.

You have your torturous fun for weeks, always bending ignorant of Kyojuro in a new set of panties that let him get a gorgeous view of your pussy. 

But one day, you take it even farther than any other day. Kyojuro is just watching TV. It’s a bit late at night, and he had just come home from a late night class. All he really wanted was to unwind as today had been a bit stressful. 

As usual, as soon as he was comfortable, starting to relax. You strut in the room. For some reason, your tight pink shorts and even tighter little tank pop is worse than the see through panties. It’s as if everything is on display, yet not enough. 

You don’t just disappear into your room after showing off to him though. Instead you move to sit next to him. The look on your face was ridiculously sweet. As if the sight of you right now wasn’t giving him a boner that was a bit too hard to stop.

Surprisingly, you don’t make a sound, choosing to sit quietly next to him. Watching what he was watching without disturbing him. 

It's when the show ends, however, that you rile him up again. 

And this time is his last straw.

You reach for the remote that was sitting on the coffee table a little to the right of Kyojuro. To reach it you stretch your body, practically over the man’s lap to change the channel. And maybe also to wiggle your ass in his face.

Kyojuro lets out a sigh. This teasing game was getting tiring. Clearly you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you. And frankly, today he was a bit too tired to rub one out in the bathroom to the thought of you. Why do so when you’re right in front of him, begging for it. 

You yelp as a heavy hand smacks right on your ass. It hurts, and it stings, but you swore it was the best  feeling ever. 

You turn around, eyes as wide and innocent as ever as you face him. “Kyojuro, what was-”

“Shut up” he rolls his eyes, “Sit on my lap” he says. 

And you're sat as soon as the words leave his mouth. The tone of his voice made you feel like you were in trouble, like you were in for it bad tonight. 

“Usually I love teasing, I really do. You have a beautiful pussy Y/n” he compliments, “It’s almost as pretty as you”

You’re convinced you need to wake yourself up from a dream as Kyojuro leans to start kissing your neck. Your head feels a bit fuzzy. There was a lot going on, pretty fast. Your brain was barely managing to keep up. 

“But I'm too tired for the games today, so just take what you want” he tells you. 

And you have the nerve to stutter in response, as if you hadn’t been torturing him for weeks, 

“I-I-...I- d-don’t know what to say” you moan as his hands stay firm on your waist, massaging your lower back. 

He rolls his eyes, a hand coming to wrap ever so gently around your throat. The hold doesn’t hurt at all, but it does turn you on. Real bad. Kyojuro drags you closer, so your lips are close to his. “So you can be a slut all the time but not right now, huh?” he says, “That’s  a shame”

You could barely register his words though, trying to lean in to press a kiss to his lips. But Kyojuro uses his hold on you to keep you back. 

“Uh, uh, I don't kiss girls who can’t tell me what they want upfront” he says and you pout. Kyojuro swears it’s the cutest thing he had ever seen. But your cuteness wouldn’t get you out of this. Not now at least.

“You’re mean Kyo’ ”  You whine, hips unconsciously moving from how arousing this whole situation felt.

But Kyojuro just chuckles, “I’m the mean one, but you’ve been teasing me with your cunt for the past week” he says, “A nice girl would've let me taste it ... .play with it” he continues.

“Sounds to me like you’ve been mean” he counters.

His words make you imagine all sorts of things. You might die if he ever played with your cunt, and if he ate it you were sure you’d cum too fat. 

“Fuck, I want that” you moan. “I want it so bad”

“No, didn’t I tell you that’s what nice girls get,” Kyojuro says, “Remind me what you are again?”

You sigh, “I’m mean” you say, and Kyojuro smiles, finally leaning in and letting you kiss him. The kiss feels good, it is good. TO be fair, you hadn’t been kissed by many people before. Or any for that manner. But you liked the feeling, it was exhilarating. His lips were strong, guiding you through the kiss. He could tell by how clumsy your lips were against his that you didn’t do this often. 

But he took care of you, helping you get the hang of kissing until you were confidently pressing your lips against his. He pushed your limits by sliding his tongue into your mouth. It was weird, to have him stick his tongue down your throat. But you liked it. You were sure you’d love anything Kyojuro did to you.

Your hips started to grind down on the man's lap, whining into his filthy kisses. It felt like the hold he had on your neck was keeping the oxygen from itching your brain. Everything was intoxicating, the feeling of him everywhere. His hands on your waist, or really trailing all along your body now. His lips claiming yours in a sweet kiss. His thigh between your legs. 

Kyojuro could feel you grinding against his lap and he shifts you onto one of his thighs. You cry out as he flexes his thigh. And you can feel every vein on the appendage rubbing perfectly against your clit. 

You feel like a dirty whore as you hump against him, huffing into his mouth. It wasn’t even all that much friction, but you could feel yourself soaking your underwear. It was getting to the point that you were sopping through your underwear, your shorts too! And if Kyojuro’s pants were any lighter, there would be remnants of your slick along his thigh. 

“Nasty little girl aren’t you baby” he mumbles into your mouth, “So wet for me”

You grind yourself harder into his thigh as he talks to you, “I can’t help it Kyo, it feels so good”

It was embarrassing, how close you were just from a bit of humping. But something about Kyojuro just filled you with a nasty need. He was so fucking sexy, and you had  wanted him in any way you could get him. 

Just having him now was driving you a bit crazy. 

Your loud whines filled the room as Kyojuro’s hands started  to help you grind. It’s a lot, but it’s good. A little too good. You wish you could prolong the pleasure. Hell you hoped this moment would ever end. 

You press another kiss to Kyojuro’s lips again. It’s sweeter and softer than before. But the hand around your throat that pulls you away reminds you how raunchy this moment really is. 

“You close doll?” he asks lowly. 

“Y-Yeah Kyo, M’so close. I-I think i’m gonna cum” you moan. 

Kyojuro smiles. The sight of you. A whiny mess on top of him was almost worth ignoring the rock hard boner in his pajama pants. Made him wonder how pretty you’d look taking his cock. Would you whine?Would you cry?Would you cream?

But he would save that for another time. 

For now he’d grind you on his lap until he made your sloppy cunt cum. And then maybe. He’d give you what you really deserved.

“What are you waiting for then?”Kyojuro says, “Go ahead and cum”

His words seem to possess your body. And you grip onto the hand squeezing around your neck. Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as pleasure overwhelms you. Kyojuro sees nothing but the whites of your eyes as your pupils disappear into the back of your head. 

He’s made a fair share of girls cum but…never this hard. 

Kyojuro was almost scared you were hurt with how long your body was still. But he lets out a sigh of relief as your body shakes over his. You spew out a flurry of thank you’s and mess up whimpers of his name. 

And for a moment, Kyojuro freaks out a bit at the wetness that spills over his lap. 

He lands a mean slap on your ass and you yelp as he finally lets your neck go. You collapse against this chest, his strong hands wrapping around you, massaging your waist just as he did before. 

Kyojuro thinks you’re spent, how could you not be after how hard you just came. 

But as you pull back in his hold, eyes tired, droopy yet filled with need. A small request spills from your lips, “If I tell you what I really want will you do it?” you ask softly.

And Kyojuro thinks that tonight might be longer than he thought.

~ Kinktober Masterlist|2024

[chvoswxtch]

Court baby i've waiting for this moment! I have this idea for a fic living rent free in my head. Its Frank x fem!reader. They were in a very cozy and confy moment when the snap happened and reader was blipped! You could write how Frank deald with those five years and with reader coming back. With a lot of angst moments and flufly and maybe spicy after she comes back. I would love if you accept this request! Thank you, I love you ❤️

i'm not gonna lie to you, the blip is my least favorite marvel storyline, but I love you so I put myself and frank through it just for you 🖤

I would say sorry that i'm about to emotionally wreck you but in my defense, you did ask for this so...enjoy or don't

warning: swearing, mentions of blood, violence, guns, & alcohol, heavy angst, very brief allusion to suicide (blink and you miss it) word count: 4.1k

the blip.

A split second. That’s how quickly Frank lost you. He turned his back for a second to refill his mug of coffee, and when he turned back around, you had vanished seemingly into thin air. At first he thought maybe you had gone back into the bedroom to grab a sweater or something. It had been a bit chilly in the kitchen, and you were always cold. But then a few seconds turned into a few minutes, and Frank didn’t hear any shuffling or soft footsteps. He didn’t hear anything at all. The crisp silence had an icy sense of dread trickling down his spine, and when he didn’t hear your sweet voice responding to his cautious calls of your name, he went into a full blown panic.

You were gone.

Year One.

This wasn’t happening again. It couldn’t be. There was no way he had survived losing Maria and the kids just to find you, to let your endless patience and irrevocable empathy fill the gaping void in his chest, only to lose you too. It had to be some kind of cruel joke. Frank didn’t consider himself a good man; he was well aware of and acquainted with his demons. But he didn’t deserve this.

Did he?

It was forty-eight hours before anyone even knew what happened. One giant asshole snapped his fingers, and half the universe’s population ceased to exist. Frank had stopped believing in God a lifetime ago, and he certainly didn’t believe in aliens or otherworldly creatures. He had seen first hand during his time in the Marines that mankind was the real monster. But it didn’t matter that he didn’t believe in it, because it happened, and not even the fucking Avengers could stop it. Hell, half of them were gone too.

Two weeks after the snap, news broke that Thanos had been killed, and that the Infinity Stones were destroyed, but the remaining members of the Avengers were trying to come up with a way to bring everyone back. For months Frank was glued to every news outlet, frantically waiting for even the smallest of updates. Anything was something. He refused to believe that the snap was permanent. The Avengers were going to find a way to bring everyone back. They had to. 

Your pillowcase had stopped smelling like your shampoo, and Frank found himself using it and your body wash just to keep your scent on the sheets. He burned your favorite candles and read your favorite books. He wouldn’t stay gone longer than fifteen minutes in case you finally came home. He wanted to be there when you did. Frank kept himself busy with little projects around the house, things that you had mentioned changing or updating that he had promised he would get around to and never did. Frank swore to himself when you came home, things would be different. 

He would take that trip you wanted to go on. He’d take you to the shelter to pick out a dog like you had been talking about. Maybe you two would finally start a family. Whatever you wanted, he’d give you. He’d find a way to give you the goddamn moon and every single star in the sky if you wanted them. 

As soon as you came home.

But then a year went by, and nothing had changed. The anniversary of the snap came and went, and everyone seemed to give up hope on bringing everyone back, or they just decided to move on and accept that no one was coming back.

But Frank couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. He refused to believe you were really gone.

Year Two.

The worst part about the snap was that Frank couldn’t collect his vengeance in blood like he had with his family. The one who took you from him was already dead, and even if he hadn’t been, Frank had no way of reaching him. Thanos was a Titan, someone who was revered as a God to those that followed him, and Frank was just a man. A man poisoned with rage and an insatiable thirst for revenge. So, he did what he was good at. He punished. Even though half the universe’s population was gone, that didn’t mean there weren’t still monsters left on Earth.

Frank killed without mercy or prejudice. There was no sin too harmless for his wrath. His fists collided with skin and bone until there was nothing left but ivory fragments tainted crimson and torn flesh. He didn’t stop, not even when his destructive blows caused his own knuckles to crack. It had gotten to the point where he hardly reached for a gun anymore unless he absolutely had to. He preferred to use his hands or serrated steel. He wanted to inflict every ounce of pain that he felt inside on whoever was stupid enough to get in his way.

It was like he wasn’t even mentally present anymore. His conscience had been shut off somehow, and all that was left was a relentless killing machine. Whenever he ran out of targets in the city, he moved on to hunt in the next one, and the next one, and the next one. He lived primarily out of his van, or whatever dingy motel he came across on the road. He hadn’t stepped foot in your home in almost a year. He couldn’t. It was haunted by your memory, and he couldn’t desecrate the home you two had made together with what he had become.

You would be ashamed of him. You would be disgusted and horrified by the things he had done. That thought echoed in his head as he watched the water continue to run red while he stood under the weak spray of the shower head. He didn’t know what town or even what state he was in. He didn’t know what day of the week it was, or what month it was. He didn’t care. All he knew was that you were gone, and he had nothing left.

Nothing left but the white hot fury that infected his veins and had him seeking out blood like water in the desert.

Year Three.

Frank couldn’t visit you, not like he could Maria and the kids. He couldn’t even have the closure of burying you, because there wasn’t a body. There was no final resting place for you, and he didn’t think that was fucking fair. Today was your birthday, and Frank had been drowning himself in whiskey trying to dilute the painful memories that played in his head like a haunting home movie. 

The angelic sound of your voice as you read him whatever book your nose was buried in that week, your fingers slipping through his dark tresses while he laid his head on your chest and listened in pure content. The feeling of your soft lips on his heated skin and delicate noises of pleasure as your bodies connected like they were made for each other. Your melodic laughter, the silkiness of your skin, slow dancing in the living room with the moon acting as a spotlight. 

All the words he never said. All the promises he didn’t get to keep. All the dreams that wouldn’t come true.

Somehow Frank found himself in a church. He couldn’t remember the last time he stepped foot in one. Maybe it was Sunday school back when his parents still forced him to go. He had stumbled in, his heavy boots thudding along the aisle, the only other sound coming from the amber liquid sloshing around in the half empty bottle in his hand. He stopped when he got to the front, looking up at the stained glass depictions of angels, until his weary eyes landed on the savior that was nailed to the giant cross.

Frank glared at him for several minutes before hurling the half empty bottle right at the head of the statue, causing a firework explosion of shimmering shards of glass to rain over the altar and various candles that had been lit for loved ones that had passed on. His rough voice boomed throughout the empty space.

“You son of a bitch! Why didn’t you take me, huh? Why not me? She ain’t never done a goddamn thing wrong. I’m the one you want. I’m the one that deserves it. I’m the goddamn killer here, huh? I’m the fuckin’ Punisher. So you bring her back, and you take me!”

Frank started grabbing bibles from the pews and hurling them at the statue with all his strength. In his inebriated state, some of them flew right past the statue and knocked over other small figurines and candlesticks. He let out a guttural war cry every time he threw a new one, and by the time he ran out of steam, he was panting heavily, and tears had formed in his eyes.

Dropping to his knees, he looked up at the melancholic face of the statue that matched his own, and he did something he hadn’t done in years. 

He prayed.

“Please. Please, just bring her back. I’ll take her place…I won’t fight…just…just bring her back. I’m beggin’ you…I’ll do whatever it takes, alright? Just…you can’t…you can’t do this to me again. You can’t. I may deserve it, but she don’t…okay so just…just…”

Frank was tired. Three years without you was too long. He hadn’t been able to find the peace that he had found after Maria and the kids. He spent a year waging war on everyone, and it did nothing. He spent the last few months drowning himself in booze, and it didn’t help. Nothing helped, and there was nothing to keep him going. You were gone, and you weren’t coming back, so what the hell was he still getting out of bed every morning for?

Reaching into the pocket of his coat, Frank pulled out a revolver and stared down at it. There was only one bullet in the chamber, and it wasn’t meant for anyone but him. If God wouldn’t bring you back, then he would go to you.

As soon as he cocked the hammer, a familiar voice sounded behind him.

“You don’t wanna do that, Frank.”

Turning his head to look over his shoulder, Frank squinted his blurry eyes before turning back around, shaking his head with a dry laugh.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me. Half the goddamn universe gets wiped out, and I get stuck with the fuckin’ altar boy.”

“Frank-”

“Mind your fuckin’ business, Red. Just cause there’s only one bullet in this chamber don’t mean I won’t handle your ass.”

Matt let out a deep exhale through his nose as he took a few cautious steps towards where Frank was on his knees in front of the altar.

“You’re drunk-”

“And you’re fuckin’ relentless. Go home.”

“Look, whoever you lost-”

“Whoever I lost? I lost everyone, Red!”

Matt didn’t flinch when Frank suddenly rose from his knees and stormed over towards him, his loud voice booming in the silence as they stood barely an inch apart. Matt cocked his head to the side slightly, his lips pursed as he grit his teeth.

“You think you’re the only one that’s lost everyone you’ve ever cared about, Frank?”

“Then what the hell are you waitin’ on, huh? You too much of a fuckin’ pussy to do it yourself, huh? That it? You need me to do it for you?”

Matt carefully reached out to place his hand on Frank’s arm, lowering the gun that was in his hand while he spoke in a calm voice.

“I don’t want to die, Frank. And I don’t think you want to either. You just want the pain to stop. But if you do this, it’s permanent, and you’ll never know if she came back.”

Frank shook his head and blew a puff of hot air out of his lips, his dark brows scrunching up in pure annoyance and frustration.

“She ain’t comin’ back-”

“You don’t know that. She’s not dead, Frank. She’s lost. Maybe she’s with Karen and Foggy. Frank, someone came down from another planet and wiped out half the universe. Is it so crazy to think that could be undone?”

The anger that was simmering inside Frank from Matt’s intrusion seemed to be burning through the alcohol in his system, and Matt’s question was igniting a tiny ember of hope that Frank wasn’t prepared to tend to. His body physically deflated as he dropped his head between his broad shoulders. There was a heavy tide of tears on his bottom lash line threatening to flood at any moment.

“Don’t do that.”

“You have to have faith, Frank-“

“I don’t, Red.”

“I do.”

Frank didn’t know when Matt managed to slip the revolver from his grasp, but he didn’t feel the weight of a permanent decision in his palm anymore. Matt had planted a tiny seed of hope, and what if’s were taking over Frank’s brain like wild ivy. 

What if there was a chance you could come back? Matt had a point, you weren’t dead. Not really. Even if the probability of it happening was one in a million, didn’t Frank owe you the same unwavering patience you had always shown him?

“Look Frank, just…give me a year. One year to show you things can be different. If you still want to make that call in a year, I won’t stop you. I’ll leave you alone. But Frank…you’ve gotten through this once before. You can do this again. If not for yourself, just try for her.”

A year. A year was nothing in the grand scheme of things. Frank had already been without you for three years now. 

What was one more?

Year Four.

Matt’s apartment was fucking obnoxious due to that goddamn billboard across the street, but it was better than the shitty motels Frank had been staying in. He still couldn’t step foot in the home he had shared with you. It had been three years now, and even though he wasn’t fully convinced you could come back, he couldn’t let it go. Everything that was you was there, and if he sold the house, that meant every trace of you and your existence was gone.

Matt had one rule for Frank staying with him; no killing. For a week, Frank lounged on the couch trying to figure out what to do with himself. He would start to read a book, but could never get more than a few pages because he remembered how much you loved to read, and then he would get stuck staring at the pages while memories of you played on loop in his head. There wasn’t a TV because Matt didn’t have use for one, and Frank didn’t care to watch anything anyway. It didn’t take long for Frank to go stir crazy. He had never been good at staying idle.

While Matt was out making the world a better place, Frank had managed to find a construction job. Busting down walls all day long allowed him to get his pent up anger out while not breaking Matt’s golden rule. Most days it felt like Frank was on autopilot. He woke up, went to the job site, smashed a sledgehammer through a wall until his hands bled, came home, tried to sleep, inevitably had a nightmare about losing you, and laid on the couch staring blankly up at the ceiling until the sun rose.

Every single day was a repeat of the last until they started to blur together. Frank didn’t speak to anyone at the job sites. He didn’t speak to anyone at all. Between Matt’s busy court schedule and his nightly patrols, they didn’t see each other often, and even when they were home at the same time, Frank still hardly spoke to him. He wasn’t sleeping, he barely ate, and on the days he had off, he didn’t leave the couch. He felt like a hollow shell of the man he used to be.

Matt knew what he was going through. Hell, he had been there himself after the second time he lost Elektra. He knew what it felt like to lose the person you loved most in this world, and that had happened to Frank twice now. He did his best to be patient, but after four months, he couldn’t take it anymore. Matt was fortunate that he’d had people that helped him combat his depression to find his way back to himself, but Frank didn’t have a soul in his corner.

Except for Matt. 

And even though Frank wasn’t shy about not wanting Matt’s help, Matt didn’t care. Frank could be stubborn, but he didn’t have the energy or the drive to match Matt’s stubbornness, and Matt used that to his advantage. He was relentless in pushing Frank to participate in life again. He purposely antagonized Frank, even if it meant being reduced to a human punching bag, because that meant Frank was still in there somewhere.

Matt started small in getting him out of the apartment, like guilt tripping Frank into joining him on trips to the grocery store.

“You’re not gonna help your blind roommate get groceries? You know, a lot of items don’t come with braille labels. So when I die because I accidentally put bleach in my coffee instead of creamer, you have to say nice things about me at my funeral.”

“You don’t need labels, Red. You got that goddamn bloodhound nose. Would you stop lookin’ at me like that? Jesus fuckin’ Christ, fine. Get your fuckin’ jacket and let’s go.”

After a while, he even managed to get Frank to join him at Fogwell’s from time to time.

“No wonder you became a goddamn lawyer. All you know how to do is fuckin’ argue, makes sense you made a livin’ outta it.”

“I’m not arguing, Frank. If we got in the ring, you would lose. That’s a fact. You don’t know how to box, you just know how to run at people and slam them into things. And you’re too bulky to move as fast as me. None of that is an argument, it’s a simple observation.”

“Why don’t you observe your ass in that ring so I can shut you the fuck up, Red.”

The more time they spent together, and the more Frank put in an effort to move forward one step at a time, the less empty he felt. The nightmares still came every so often, and there were days where the weight of your absence was too much for him to bear, but for the first time in four years, he didn’t feel so hopeless.

He could think about you without breaking down. He could see something that reminded him of you, and it warmed his heart instead of ripping it out. He had finally reached a point where he had slowly crawled out of the deep pit of grief that he had been digging for the past four years.

As much as he hated to admit it, Matt had helped him find a semblance of peace.

Year Five.

The sound of a dog barking caught Frank’s attention. He pulled his head out from under the hood of his truck, looking over at the grey and white pitbull that was standing a few feet away from the front door of the house you and Frank had lived in together that he’d finally moved back into six months ago. He glanced between the front door and the dog with his thick brows furrowed.

“What is it, Daisy?”

The dog turned her head when she heard Frank’s voice, the movement so fast it made her long velvet ears flop. She turned her attention back to the door and continued to bark. Something inside had caught her attention. Eyeing the front door warily, Frank rubbed his grease stained hands off on a small rag and walked over towards where Daisy was, kneeling down beside her to gently scratch that spot between her ears that she loved.

“Hey, shh shh shh. C’mon now, what’s got you so worked up, huh? What do you think is inside, huh? You smellin’ that-”

The sound of the front door opening caught Frank’s attention, and he instantly snapped his head in the direction of it. All of a sudden, his warm brown eyes went wide, and time seemed to freeze in that very moment. 

“Sweetheart?”

His quiet whisper was dripped in disbelief. There you were, looking exactly the same as the day you had vanished, looking between Frank and Daisy with an expression of surprise and perplexment.

“Frank?”

God, your voice. It had been five years since he had last heard it. That was all the confirmation he needed that this was real. You were real. You were really home. 

Without wasting a second, Frank stood and ran over towards you, tears filling up his eyes as he wrapped his arms around your frame and hugged you as tightly as physically possible. His heart was thrashing against his ribcage, and he was terrified this was just a vivid dream, but then he inhaled the scent of your shampoo intermingled with your perfume, felt your hands gently pressing against his back, and heard your soft angelic laughter.

“Frankie…baby…you’re crushing me.”

Frank pulled back only slightly, bringing his large hands up to cup your face to study your features, taking in every single inch of you. He caught the way you frowned softly, looking up at him in pure concern when thick tears streamed down his cheeks. You lifted your hand to delicately brush them away with the featherlight touch of your fingers.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“You’re really here.”

“Of course I’m here. Where else would I be? Baby, why are you so upset?”

As you ran your hands through his long grown out curls, a crease of bewilderment nestled in between your brows when you took in his appearance.

“Wait…what happened to your hair? It was just short five seconds ago…and you didn’t have a beard. How…how did you do that? And when did we get a dog? Frank, what-”

Five seconds ago. 

Is that all it was for you? Frank could see the visible disorientation on your delicate features, and he had a lot of questions of his own, but right now nothing mattered but you. He leaned in and captured your lips in a deep kiss, pouring every emotion he had felt in the past five years into it. He kissed you like the world could end at any moment, because for him it did the day you vanished.

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours and let out a deep exhale of relief.

“You…you were gone, sweetheart. You were gone a long time…a long goddamn time.”

“Gone? What-”

“I’ll explain everythin’, I promise. Just…just give me a minute, please. Just let me hold you for a minute, can you do that for me, baby? Please?”

Frank had always been able to read you like a book, and he could tell by the look in your eyes that you weren’t just confused. Hearing you had been gone for a long time infused you with a sense of panic and uncertainty. But you trusted Frank, and you knew whatever hard truth he was going to tell you, he wouldn’t let you go through it alone.

“Okay.”

As Frank embraced you again, you suddenly felt a pair of paws on your back. Glancing over your shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the happy dog wagging its tail while looking between you and Frank. Reaching down, you gently pet the side of her face with a soft smile.

“Hi there, precious.”

“Daisy.”

Glancing up at Frank, your lips parted slightly when Frank told you her name. A soft smile covered his lips, the first smile to do so in five years. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear slowly.

“You always said if we got a dog and it was a girl, you wanted to name her Daisy.”

Tears welled up along your bottom lash line as you looked up at Frank, a gentle smile covering your lips. After a moment, you glanced away from Frank to look at Daisy again, letting out a soft laugh.

“I’ve waited a long time to meet you, Daisy.”

Frank gave your waist a light squeeze, leaning in to press a soft lingering kiss to your cheek.

“And we’ve been waitin’ a long time for you. Welcome home, sweetheart.”

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @kdogreads @heimtathurs @mars-rants-a-lot @casa-boiardi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @hazallem @avencol @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @Vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

[messylustt]

I just finished the Miguel fic and its not bested YET my standers are HIGH. With that being said i have a hobie blurb/fic idea

goody reader! who hobie swear he cant stand (he's obssessed)

you angelllll and this scenario for hobie—ugh it lives rent free now THANK YOU my sweet anon

GOODY-TWO-SHOES AND BRITISH PUNK — hobie brown + reader: just hobie pushing away the fact that he’s obsessed with you, by finding your goody nature “annoying”.

marks no warnings. just a bit of banter. wc 1.6k.

When you joined the spider society, everyone thought of you as ‘sweet’ and an all in all ‘do gooder’. Many found it endearing, while Hobie claimed to think the complete opposite.

Even though his mouth was saying things like “ya could ‘ave aimed that web better.” And “maybe try catchin’ the evil guy next time…ay?” His body had always stayed close to you.

He said things regarding your ‘sweetness’, pinning it as ‘no good’, it won’t help being overly sweet while fighting bad guys. And god did you being a little ‘do gooder’ and following the rules piss him off the most.

But even after all those confirmations in his head he found himself looking for you, standing next to you in de-briefs or when a few of you would just hang out. It was always when you were in a group—Hobie was near.

And right now as you listened to Jess speak on the new ‘villain of the week’, you felt a presence beside you. As you glanced to the left you saw Hobie, standing, hands in pockets, as he acted oblivious to his own body’s movements.

He had moved closer to you. In his head he brushed it off as him just making sure you were listening and paying attention to Jess’s words so that you wouldn’t fuck anything up this time. (Not that Hobie ever does pay that much attention himself).

Hobie had never been a nitpicker, but when it came to you he noticed all the details. He could almost tell you your own body’s habits before you even realised them yourself. Like the little nose scrunch you’d do when you were bored. Or the tilt of your head, signalling that you were really trying to listen. Or even the press of your lips, showing that you were just…thinking.

He didn’t pay much attention to his reasons for taking such close notice though. No. Because he's sure that the sole reason (only one) is because you've always annoyed him.

“So please….” Jess is saying. “Please don’t touch any of the guy’s gadgets.”

Then the debrief is over, and you’re getting to your feet, having jumped up onto a ledge. Hobie can’t help but watch as you began to walk towards a portal. “Careful there luv…woul’n’t want you to get ahead of yourself. Maybe ya should stay back this round?” Hobie walks backwards, leaning his head slightly to the side as he moves to the portal.

You press your lips together, eyeing him. What is she thinking about?—Hobie thought to himself, eyeing you back, as he continues to speak. “To be good at ya job, ya gotta loosen up on those rules, ya do know that…right?”

“You say that like you think I’m wound tight.” You say, slowly walking with him—his feet still walking backwards as you walked forward.

He raises a brow. “Aren’t you, luv?” He tongue began to absentmindedly play with his lip ring, dragging it slightly between his teeth as he neared the portal. Then he’s leaning back, and falling through it, you not far behind.

The portal had opened up over a high sky, resulting in you both falling. Hobie tilted his head, watching as you faced each other, skyrocketing down. You spare him a tilt of your head, before your web is attaching to a building as you slip away from his line of sight. And Hobie doesn’t know why but his lips had began to twitch up.

Shooting his own web out, he swung to a stop on the building, where everyone else resided. And of course, he yet again moved closer to you.

Directions were given by Jess as the spider variants all went their separate ways. "Nah, you're comin' with me." Hobie says, grabbing your arm as he pulls you towards the edge of the building. "I thought I bothered you too much..." you mutter more to yourself.

"What was that?" Hobie asks, but you just spare him a "Hm?" before you're web slinging to the next building. Hobie scoffs, copying the action.

Soon you're both swinging past buildings, and when Hobie attaches his web to where yours was gonna go, your face actually displays a slight scowl. Hobie raises his brows—effortlessly swinging backwards. "See...I knew ya were fakin' ya sweetness." Hobie comments through the wind.

"And when were you paying so much attention to me for you to know that?" You call back, slipping past him as your hand slightly brushes his guitar strap. He doesn't like the feeling that crawled up his neck when you brushed so close. He was the one who initiated the closeness, and you having barely touched him made him quickly follow you.

Then you're both swinging almost together, Hobie's gaze stuck on your relaxed posture. "Ya did learn from last time right, luv?" Hobie asks, to which you lazily glance at him.

"That wasn't my fault." You say, slipping through a narrow gap. Hobie went over so as not to scratch his guitar. "Ya can't be that blind...can ya?"

"You know, I've never understood why you act like this." You say, coming to a stop on a lower building and gazing down, spotting the gadget wearing anomaly. Hobie fluidly stops beside you as you both crouched down. But as you stared at the anomaly, Hobie stared at you.

"Act like what?" He asks, feeling a strange urge to pull your mask off. Why did he want to see your expressions when he was talking to you?

You glance at him. "Act like you hate me. Maybe you do...but I just can't pinpoint an exact reason why."

"Aw..." Hobie coos. "Scared not everyone is fallin' for ya goody-two-shoes act?"

"It's not an act. And I am not a goody-two-shoes." You slightly huff out.

"Yeah ya are..." Hobie hums out, almost sounding amused. "You always follow the rules, being a dottin' little helper to Miguel."

You look back to the anomaly. Jess had said to wait, as backup, so you do, trying your best to ignore a now closer hobie. "And you always do that...can't find a reason for it either." You mutter.

"Do what?" Hobie shifts closer. You turn your head, eyeing him. "That. Coming close."

"Maybe I'm scared you might do something overly heroic, just to get into Miguel's good books."

"Hobie being scared? Now that's a first." Hobie's surprised to hear the clear sarcasm in your voice. "And what makes you think I'm trying so hard to get into Miguel's 'good books'?" You ask.

"Ya are always the first to accept missions." Hobie says, and he hopes you don't notice his slight jealous tone. "And Miguel seems rather pleased with that."

"Maybe because I'm doing my job?" You ask, finally glancing at him again. And Hobie can't help but swiftly grab your mask. He wanted to know if you were bored, thinking, or actually listening to him.

"Hobie..." You say, reaching for your mask again. "I need that."

But Hobie just pockets it in his jacket. "Nah, Jess won't need us. She's too prideful and...usually completes missions..." He eyes you like he's hinting at something.

"I'm sorry—but when have I ever not completed a mission?" You have a slight frown on your face. And Hobie grins under his mask, liking seeing your expressions. Especially because he's been able to get new ones, like a frown and a scowl.

"Last week." He answers, fiddling with your mask material in his pocket.

You groan. "I told you, that wasn't my fault."

"Hm..." Hobie's eyes had begun to grow distracted in your moving mouth, noticing the details...yet again. The way they would slightly part when you were confused. You were confused now, so Hobie got a chance to see a fraction of your teeth. Why was he focusing so hard? And maybe if his mask was off, you would see exactly where his gaze was trapped.

"Hobie." You say, noticing he had stayed silent for a little too long. "Hobie." You shuffle closer to knock his shoulder. "Can I have my mask back?"

But he just began to shake his head. "Nah...I think I'll keep it." He then stands, looking down at you. You quickly get to your feet also, eyes narrowed. "Why? I do actually need it."

Hobie just shrugs, feeling thoroughly amused with the whole situation. You go to reach for his pocket, but he easily dodges. "This is really not the time." You mutter, trying again. But Hobie just moves around you.

You then swiftly shoot a web, aiming for the inside of his pocket, but hobie snatches the end, yanking you towards him, making tumble to a stop against his chest. And you can feel the slight rumble of a chuckle, making you quickly stand straight, only for your breath to hitch.

Because now his mask is off, and he's extremely close. Now you can see his eyes dart, fully absorbing your details, and you actually grow to feel a tad nervous. "Can I please have it back?"

"Back to the fake sweetness, are we?" He asks, his gaze now stopping on your lips.

"It's not fake." You mutter out, moving to step back, but Hobie tightens his hold on your web, keeping you still. "What are you doing?" You ask, a slight groan of annoyance edging your tone.

Hobie tilts his head, acting as if he isn't doing anything, as his finger comes out to just brush your collarbone through your suit. You don't know what to do, as you stare at him. He'd never been this close, facing you, at least. He's always been behind you or beside you. And now as his tongue comes out to lick his full lips, you find your gaze getting caught up in the action.

"I'm not a goody-two-shoes..." You choose to say, still slightly hung up on the nickname.

"Yeah...ya are." Hobie repeats, this time quieter. "...but it's..." You narrow your eyes on him. 'It's' what? "It's kinda cute, luv."

Your eyes widen. "W-what?"

"Hm?" He quickly hums, before he's webbing away, making you spin to gaze after him. "Hobie!" You call, as you quickly web after him.

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[saysthenightingale]

nightingale discovers warhammer 40k (1/???)

I like to think I’m at least marginally funny, so I was thinking I would live tweet my reactions, thoughts and favourite moments as a little record as I descend into the warhammer rabbit hole ! this first post will be all the stuff from the past half week, which is my very first venture into warhammer

knew jack about warhammer 40k until approx a week ago. saw a gif of n'kari, thought 'would', was horrified at myself, thought to myself "nightingale are you a monsterfucker or not, fucking commit to it, coward" and now i'm here

funniest moment is still blue archive ost playing over my iron warriors research. for those unaware blue archive is an anime style game where you collect adorable girls who wield military assault weaponry

that oldhammer thing about horus railing fulgrim into following chaos lives in my head rent free (thank you @/chemos-factories) because it's just an 18+ doujinshi premise. i can see the words on the dlsite page. subtitled "battle brother, what are you doing?!" and it's called some shit like "it's not like i gangbanged my brother into following a chaos god" "the elder brother-like one" or "domestic spacemarine" wait domestic girlfriend isn't actually 18+ is it

please tell me someone understands my "the elder brother like one" reference because it seems like something right up the slaaneshi alley

are the ultramarines just space versions of garen from league of legends or is my gut instinct wrong

sanguinius and fulgrim are still the sexiest primarchs to me. and yes i'm still pretending that the primarchs all went to family therapy and did Not all try to kill each other. i'm coping.

i rescind my previous statement about the night lords, wherein i said "the night lords are like if someone looked at a list of felonies and said 'all of them'." i am not rescinding this because it's wrong, but because it was an understatement

more correctly the night lords are like "if someone looked at the geneva convention and turned it into a checklist."

re: fabius bile. first of all, sure, a fulgrim clone is insane, but i'm hardly even surprised. of course. of fucking course. more importantly- really? fabius bile??? like wow i WONDER what hes like with a name like that

speaking of crazy names, 'ferrus manus'??? i have been informed that yes, 'ferrus manus', literally 'iron hand', leads his legion, the 'iron hands', from the 'fist of iron.' the word 'iron' is starting to not look like a word to me

[onlyseokmins]

lusty gallant • c.s.c.

Pairing: choi seungcheol x afab!reader

Genres: smut (minors dni!), roommates!au, fwb!au, lil angst if you squint

Warnings: monster dick cheol <3, swearing, breeding (mentions of pregnancy), size kink, lots of cum and cumming inside, fingering, bantering ofc, choking, lil bit of praise and degradation, hair pulling, man (dick) handling, prolly unhygienic sex tendencies, teeny possession heh, basically reader and cheol are pussy/dick whipped and heathens, sassy, and lil shits (affectionate). pls lmk if i missed smth I'm sleepy

WC: 2.6k

A/N: happy birthday to my beloved soulmate @duhnova <3333 you've been such a lovely presence and have become one of my favorite people from tumblr ❤️ ty for always matching my pace and being so loving and bright always! i really hope you like this heh i tried smth a lil different and we all know I'm secretly feral for cheol and love you lots <3 hope your special day is the best day ever! also happy 1st fic of 2023!! Many more to come I promise 💖 update: 9/6: sequel

When Seungcheol walks through the door with the biggest shit-eating smirk on his stupidly handsome face, you know he's up to something. It makes you want to tear off the beanie snug around his head. Oh. And maybe the rest of his clothes too.

"What is it?" you grouse out as he stands expectantly in front of the television screen. "This better be important because I'm missing the finale."

He knows this but still blocks the screen. Because he's also unbearingly smug, aware of how you can't stop checking him out. Where else are you supposed to divert your eyes when he's in the way though?

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Seungcheol has the audacity to wink at you through his clear-rimmed glasses, "you'll like it lots."

You easily feign disgust. "Why in the world do you think I will?"

"Because," he rocks back on the balls of his feet. Hands burying deep inside the pockets of his gray sweatpants only helps exemplify the outline of his big, long, thick dick inside. "You like me."

"Please. I've kept my end of the bargain so don't go assuming that I haven't."

It's the way his smirk grows wider that stops you from throwing even more daring accusations his way. You also know what kind of man he is. It was very obvious what you signed up for after agreeing to be his roommate. 

To ignore all his minor inconvenient and annoying tendencies in exchange for basically living without having to drop a dime for rent or groceries in a nice apartment.

"You like my dick."

Oh. And free cock. The best and biggest kind of cock you might have ever encountered and probably will ever again. No strings attached.

Except everyone knows that those nonexistent strings very much so exist. And are attached. To Seungcheol's cock. Not the man himself. Definitely not. He knows it. Your best friends know it. His own friends might know it too.

Even the couch knows. You grimace. Thinking back to the night before. And the night before that. And last week — 

Yeah, the couch definitely knows.

"Yeah occasionally, and?"

You continue to glower straight at Seungcheol's crotch as it seemingly moves closer to you. Every step he takes causes his cock to jostle slightly in his pants. Your jaw aches instinctually and you know you're probably drooling.

Disgusting.

But you are a dedicated whore.

"Occasionally, my ass," Seungcheol mutters in disbelief, more to himself if anything, already half hard. 

It's truly unfair how you frown cutely, seated below him so prettily with a rebellious glint in your eyes. Oh, how he loves to fuck that attitude out of you. Even now, the way your lips curl down in faux disgust causes his hips to jut forward.

"You're insatiable," you mock when he shifts even closer until his clothed cock nearly presses against your nose. Suddenly enveloped in his scent, you can't help but go ahead and nuzzle teasingly against his bulge.

"Says the one who begged to be filled up this morning."

His words make your hole clench pitifully, causing you to purse your lips. Soaked and stickied fabric sits between your legs. Not just from being constantly wet around this man. But the same stupid man who had naughtily pulled your panties back up to cover your poor spent and abused pussy after a long, hard sleepy fuck to ensure not a drop was wasted after cumming deep inside.

And you loved it. There was something special, something you treasured about feeling full of his messy release coating in and all over your cunt. It surely beats the warmth of his arms you've never felt when he nonchalantly throws the covers over your shoulders and saunters out with a literal bounce in his step.

You wonder why Seungcheol even bothers paying and staying in a two bedroom apartment when you both end up in the same bed. Maybe the variety of wondering who will crawl under whose blankets makes it all worthwhile.

"What did you want to show me?" you fire back.

"Oh," an eyebrow raises, "you think you deserve to see?" 

The feeling of his hand pushing your forehead back is harsh enough that your tongue automatically pokes out with the expectation of a heavy cock laid upon it. Instead, his fingers that stroke your cheek are gentle. Seungcheol is not a kisser. But the featherlight tracing of circles along your neck make up for it.

Your eyes roll back when his thumb rubs along your throat, the rest of his fingers wrapping around with a gentle squeeze.

"Hm?"

"Of course."

"I don't think so." Seungcheol's decision makes your jaw drop but he's not finished yet. "Always acting out and misbehaving like a total brat. Have I still not fucked you hard enough?"

You wince, shifting in your seat lightly, because that statement is not entirely untrue. For sure, you can't recall the last time you weren't at least a little bit sore, struggling to sit comfortably with how brutally he's had his way consensually with you. Still. Nothing will ever be enough to fully rid you of your brattiness.

It's simply a part of your wonderful personality that everyone should appreciate more. And Seugncehol does. He adores everything about you.

Not that you would know. You don't even attempt to understand the pondering look in his dark brown eyes while he casually squeezes and releases his grip around your throat. Unaware that he's thinking about purchasing that cute collar and leash set he saw. Gifting it to you as a one-year anniversary celebration present since you moved in. Wondering what color would suit you best.

"Shirt off, wanna see your pretty body."

It's easy to maintain eye contact and a naughty smile until the shirt has to be pulled off your head. There's no need to wear a bra at home, nipples already perking up before your upper body is bare. Surprisingly Seungcheol doesn't focus on your tits as expected and you meet his eyes again with a questioning stare.

"Show me," he coughs, changing his tune, "show me if you kept your tiny lil hole filled up."

Your cheeks burn. Not out of shame. It's just his stupid effect. Legs already shaking, you stand. He backs up, giving you space and crosses his arms, eyebrows pinching together as he observes every single movement. Your trembling hands tug at your sleep shorts that barely cover anything.

"Turn around."

You obey, of course. Sucking in a harsh breath and bracing yourself as you throw your shorts on the floor, sticking your ass out on purpose. You're sure your panties are an absolute mess to look at — you can feel it — and Seungcheol's loud grunt only confirms the truth that it's a visual to die for.

Even though the best part hasn't even started yet.

Continuing to bend over, you ease them down slowly. Slower than necessary. Every slide down further and further makes the fabric stick to your center, a filthy mixture of arousal and Seungcheol's cum drenching it. A clear string of your essence clings to the material when you finally get them off and his low curses only make your pride swell, pussy lips fluttering and pushing out more of a mess.

"You touched yourself." His disappointed tone is obvious. But the pleasant reminder of flicking lazy circles on your clit over your panties while dipping an occasional finger to play and move around the cum inside makes your body thrum in pleasure. "Seriously? And you thought I was insatiable?"

"What's the matter? I was bored while you ran your silly errands and left me all alone," you purr. "You can just fill me up again. Maybe try and keep your dick deep inside this time. Or let me cockwarm you after, promise I won't waste a single drop."

When you lick your lips and wiggle your hips, Seungcheol scoffs. "Desperate little thing."

He shuffles closer, taking time to lick his palm like a heathen before roughly cupping your pussy. It's not like there's a need to wet his hand. But the heady way you can't help but watch how stupid sexy he looks through your eyelashes only eggs him on. Fingers spread your lower lips so the rest of the thick white globs can fall out and then he's slipping one inside your cunt.

"Not like much can fit in this tiny hole. Surprised you aren't pregnant yet after being stuffed full." Feeling you squeeze and suck his finger in more taunts him to add another. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? That's why you keep asking for it."

There's no time to adjust to the way he curls his fingers just right that you're already dizzy with pleasure. And then he speeds up, shoving them in at a rapid pace that fills the room with loud squelching sounds and whimpering moans.

Your hands brace the back of the couch for dear life, upper body already lurching forward with the way Seungcheol can render your body to his will completely. You're sensitive but it feels so fucking good. Any twinges of discomfort are drowned out by fuzzy pleasure.

Then suddenly, you're left empty. There's not much time to complain about it though before he's rubbing his hand across your ass, smearing it with the glistening sheen coating his fingers. Watching how your cheeks jiggle in time. 

You hear a hum, a tickling sensation tracing down your back before he's pulling you up by the back of your neck to lay flush against his chest.

Hips rut against your ass, betraying his desperation and messing up his sweatpants — not that the man cares. He probably revels in it. There's something that makes you weak in the knees, though, with Seungcheol fully clothed while you wait naked and bare for him to make the next move. 

One moment his hand slides from the back of your neck to the front in a gentle chokehold, muttering something about "had to make sure you're nice and empty to take another load" and the next moment the world spins as he pushes you down on the couch.

You land on your back, supported by his strong arms so you barely actually fall. Hovering above you, he finally rips off his beanie and you gasp when pink strands flutter out down to tickle your nose.

"You dyed your hair?"

"Yeah, thought it'd look prettiest between your legs." Your pussy flutters at the mention and so does your damn heart. "Besides, you know what the color is named?"

"What?"

"Lusty gallant." Seungcheol beams when you erupt into delighted laughter. "See, isn't it perfect?"

"It really is!"

"Knew you had a crush on me."

His pompous smirk makes your teeth grind and you spit out, "Where did that come from?"

"You think I'm gallant. Brave. Heroic. A gentleman."

"Did you know?" Your finger pokes at his firm chest, sliding down, down, and down. "It also means a big… fucking…" you grab at his cock hard, "flirt. Yeah, it is perfect."

He hisses at the harsh contact. "I'm not a flirt!"

"Hm, sure."

Of course, he relents when you squeeze him even tighter. "Alright… maybe just with you, though. You know you're the only one I fuck. Can't help but rile you up, it's sexy."

You stick your tongue out in pure spite at him only to quickly retract it before he can pull at it like he enjoys. 

"You kept it long?"

It seems like such a hassle. You remember him pouting about doing something new with it and figured it'd be easier to cut before coloring it.

"You like pulling at it, so…"

"You like me pulling at it."

"Takes two to tango," he grins and leans back to tug off his pants. His cock slaps against the t-shirt covering up abs. Red. Hard. Angry. Oozing loads of pre-cum. "I could sit here all day instead?"

You go to sit up, ready to ride the smirking man into oblivion and shut him the hell up but he clicks his tongue, caging you in between his arms and keeping you on your back. 

"No, sweet stuff. I'm on top today. And you're gonna have to put what you want inside you yourself." 

As if it's a challenge. You bite your lip to try and stop your coy smile from lighting up your face. One last, tight clutch around his thick cock for good measure before you rub it along your outer pussy lips. 

"No," Seungcheol huffs out, "no teasing." 

It's a goddamn power trip for this man to be so close to losing control. You guide the large head inside your hole, knowing if you take it a bit too far any longer, you'll be in trouble if he has to beg. 

Despite the slow pace you take to ease his fat girth inside, once he bottoms out with his balls settled against your asscheeks — the brutal thrusts of his hips begin. They snap at an unbelievably fast pace, so much so that your body jerks uncomfortably against the scratchy material of the couch. Head dangerously close to bumping against the arm rest. 

"Hold on to me, baby." 

Unlike most cases, you don't grab onto Seungcheol's shirt or even cling to his powerful shoulder blades. Instead, you grip onto the long pink strands of hair on the back of his neck. 

His head jerks back with a deep groan echoing in his throat before he buries into the crook of your neck. Biting as he also buries his cock deep within in your sweet cunt, hitting that spot only he is able to reach every single time. 

"Knew you had a thing for hair pulling." 

"If you're able to talk nonsense," he sits back, holding your hips harsh enough to bruise. "must not be fucking you hard enough, again." 

He says, "Sorry, baby," dripping in a copious amount of pathetic degradation that you clench so hard around him like a vice. Seungcheol chokes. But when you start to moan non-stop, he smiles like a victor. 

"Could fuck this tiny pussy so many times but it never loosens up. Gotta relax for me or I won't be able to fill you up properly." 

The bastard isn't helping much, the dirty talk and desperate need to be bred only making your head spin more. Legs wrap around his waist to pull him in even as your pussy threatens to push him out. 

Seungcheol falls silent himself, too entranced by the creamy ring forming around his cock where your bodies connect. 

Promises of filling you up finally fall from his mouth as he nears his peak. Whispers of "mine" and "yours" he thinks you can't hear in your state but you always do. Reminiscing over them when you're alone at night. 

But that's not what matters at this moment as white noise fills your ears, almost blanking out as another incredible orgasm rocks your entire body. Seungcheol's release hits right as yours finishes, pelvis pressing close against yours to make sure you take every single drop as promised. 

He hates to even move away. But a couple shallow thrusts are enough to satiate his need to ensure your sweet pussy won't waste even a little bit until you whine from the oversensitivity. 

The urge to kiss your forehead is strong as you come down from your high. Instead, he simply stares at you with starry eyes in the vulnerable moment. 

One day, Seungcheol convinces himself that he'll be brave enough to utter what traitorously rings through his heart and entire being when he's with you. He's sure it's not the after-nut feelings but maybe it's best to wait until he's not balls-deep inside, too blissed and fucked out that he accidentally blurts it aloud. 

Perhaps he will when he gives you the collar and leash, a diamond-encrusted heart with his initials on the front and yours on the back. Tilting his head, he still isn't sure if pink, black, or red suit you best because you're too perfect. 

Maybe he'll consider white? Totally not a thought influenced by the gorgeous stains coating your most intimate parts and inner thighs. 

Definitely not. 

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onlyseokmins: January 2023 ©

[covetyou]

seeded

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pairing: Dieter Bravo & gn!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: no explicit smut but references to the following - tentacles, monster/alien fucking, cum inflation, mpreg, masturbation. also, pregnancy anxiety. word count: 979 summary: Dieter Bravo believes in aliens. Do you?

A/N: happy slightly early birthday to the gorgeous @sp00kymulderr for tomorrow - adore you 💛. in honour of you there is also a slight mention of just a touch because that lives rent free in my head.

for the @dieterbravobrainrotclub May drabble challenge - I make my own rules so I didn't include meet-cute (I accidentally wrote this, so I can't be blamed for excluding it) quote: "Do you believe in aliens?" trope: meet-cute follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

"Do you believe in aliens?"

It wasn't the first time he'd asked you this question. It probably wouldn't be the last either, knowing him, and so you answer in the same way you did that very first time so long ago.

"Yes, Dee," you say, looking at him over your laptop screen, the ghost of his rammed summer calendar still burned into your retinas as he comes into focus. Due on a new set in a few weeks, and with his filming schedule just through this morning, you'd spent the last few hours scrambling to put his life together while yours chaotically whirls out of control, ignored, in the background.

Dieter, oblivious as ever to the state of your life, has shuffled into your direct line of sight with coffee cup in hand, robe open and soft belly on display.

"Right..." he starts, before drifting off to look down at his hands as a concerned look takes over his face.

"You have that dream again?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. It's a dream he has every few months, seems like he has for most of his life. You're about as familiar with it as he is by now. Dieter Bravo will dream of some kind of elaborate alien abduction, usually involving him being dragged up by a beam of light into some extraterrestrial spacecraft. Most often it's pretty benign - occasionally he'd be abducted and never seen again, once or twice it's been pretty gruesome, sometimes he even wakes up having thoroughly enjoyed himself. You can't quite work out what has happened this time though, as his face flicks between concerned and softly dazed.

"No," he says quickly.

"You're a shit liar, Dee."

Closing your laptop - you need the break anyway - you look at him, properly, and see his hand has moved from itching his stomach, to gently caressing it.

Oh no. No. Not this again.

"Dieter."

"Do you think I could be-"

"No, Dieter," you start, standing to approach him like you're approaching a skittish deer. "I don't think you're pregnant." - it sounds stupid to even say it out loud - "I believe in aliens, I do not believe you've been abducted, or probed, or inseminated. I think you had a very nice, or very horrible, dream and now you've woken up confused. Drink your coffee."

Dieter dutifully takes a slurp from the mug in his hand, nodding to you like he's holding onto your every word. Because sometimes, he does. Sometimes you rule Dieter Bravo's world, and he gladly lets you. Take that, alien overlords.

Another deep breath and Dieter's shoulders relax, falling from the tense position he'd held them in. He'd quite liked the idea of being impregnated by an otherworldly lifeform when you first met him. You'd been working for him for a few weeks and, perhaps regrettably, still hadn't established the boundaries you have now. After one of his more sedate parties, you sat with him giggling on his patio. Soon you were both agreeing that the deep sea was much more terrifying than deep space, and a three, two, one later you'd simultaneously exclaimed your belief in aliens. Dieter, naturally, took it one step further, and once you'd got onto the topic of tentacles you knew you were done for, even then. You learnt a lot about what Dieter Bravo would do given the chance to fuck an alien that night, and none of it sounded remotely romantic or sanitary. It barely sounded safe. You're not sure a human could even physically contain the amount of fluid he was talking about. Still, amongst the thoughts of all that mess you definitely stopped breathing at some point, and when he finally got up with a slap to his bare thighs you'd all but scurried home just to make yourself come to the thoughts he planted in your head. It was safe to say Dieter Bravo liked aliens.

"But what if I was," his hand comes to his stomach again, resting below his belly button as his eyes go wide. "I don't know what I'd do."

The worry on his face is almost funny. Almost, because you're the one who has to deal with it, and that makes it not very funny at all. For a moment, you have to humor him, tell him what he wants to hear so he calms down and leaves you alone, and that feels sillier than anything. Which is saying something. You've chased this man through the house, high out of his mind two minutes before a video interview, wearing nothing but a sock on his dick.

"You'd be fine, Dee. You have plenty of space for alien babies in this place. We could get a nanny too, and you can more than afford to take a little time off work. It'd be okay."

"You promise? You'd help?"

"Promise. I'll help look after your alien babies, Dee."

"Okay, cool, because I am not ready to be a mom."

He shuffles off again before you can say anything else, his shaggy head disappearing around a corner just before you hear him flop down on the couch in the other room. You don't need to see him to know exactly what he's doing right now. It's the same thing he does whenever he flops onto that couch. He'll put his coffee down and then scratch his balls a little before simply resting his hand there. Sometimes it devolves into something a little more handsy - the man can tease himself for hours - but sometimes he's comforted just holding his own balls for a little while. The issue always is, you never know which way it's going to go, so before he gets too distracted, you shout through to him from your little corner of his house.

"Hey, Dee?"

"Yeah?"

"Want me to get you a pregnancy test?"

[ink-n-shadow]

PARTY LIKE A ROCKSTAR

𝜗𝜚 the one where you're a rockstar and ghost is your bodyguard

𝜗𝜚 pairing: bodyguard!Simon "Ghost" Riley x rockstar!reader (link to all works in this au) 𝜗𝜚 cw: alternative universe (majority non-canon), strong language, maybe suggestive content (but i think that's a stretch) 𝜗𝜚 note: the way this au!headcanon has been living rent free inside of my head for weeks (might have to make this into a series o_O)

⤷ you were one of the biggest up-and-coming names in the music industry. that being said－you needed the best protection that could be offered.

⤷ enter ghost－an ex-british army soldier that your manager hired right after your first big break to take you to and from a local concert. he kept his face covered by some stupid skull mask and wore a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to expose the countless tattoos that swirled around his forearms.

⤷ ghost would refuse to tell you his real name too. but he was quiet, protective, intimidating, and really good at his job－so your manager kept him around.

⤷ now you were much more well known, meaning ghost's job of keeping you alive and away from grabbing hands or flashing pap lights only got more difficult. but at least the pay also increased.

⤷ while the conversations were brief and often short-lived, you both had grown to somewhat enjoy the constant presence of one another. even if you pushed ghost's buttons and tried to stretch out away from his grasp.

"Aye－fuck did I say about tryin' to leave the venue without me? You're gonna get yourself bloody murdered out there."

⤷ would most definitely have a pet name to call you instead of your real name/stage name

"I said get behind me, dove. How am I gonna protect your pretty little face from behind ya?"

⤷ ghost would most definitely sit in the security area or stage wings at your concerts just to watch you tear up the stage. he liked watching you do the thing you loved the most－performing. but again, he'd never admit how much he enjoyed it.

"Yeah, dove. I watched you out there tonight. What－you want me to give you a gold fuckin' star for your performance? It was 'lright, not the best I've ever seen."

⤷ he has definitely taken you home inebriated more times than he could count. and you definitely get handsy and flirty when you're not sober. but he always made sure you got home safe and sound.

"Aye! Keep your bloody hands to yourself－no, m'not holding your hand right now, dove. You're plastered...don't even know your own fuckin' name."

⤷ you were definitely a soft spot for ghost, but he'd never admit it. he barely admitted it to himself.

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