#i know it is soft but it is even softer in the anime

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

My Fault London: Nick Blurbs

A/N: Kind of headcannons, kind of blurbs, all around just wanted to write for Nick :) Spicey Ver. Here!

Fast, Calculated

Nick’s car hums beneath you, the engine smooth as he weaves through the streets at an almost effortless speed. You know he’s in control, but that doesn’t stop your pulse from spiking every time he threads through tight gaps between cars like they aren’t even there.

“Nick—” you start, gripping the edge of your seat.

His smirk is almost lazy, but his eyes never leave the road. “Relax.”

“Relax? You’re going ninety in a fifty zone—”

Before you can finish, he smoothly takes a turn down an empty side street, braking just enough for the car to slide into place at the curb. His hand lands on your knee—firm, steady.

“You don’t trust me?” he asks, his voice softer now.

You exhale, your fingers still clenched against the seat. You hate that he always does this—pushes the limits, then pulls back just in time. Never reckless, but always toeing the line.

He watches you carefully. His hand doesn’t move. “I know what I’m doing,” he murmurs. “You know that.”

You swallow, heart still racing. Slowly, you force yourself to breathe.

Finally, you meet his gaze. “I do.”

His smirk fades into something almost unreadable, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing and the distant hum of the city outside. Then, as if the moment never happened, he pulls away and taps the wheel.

“Good,” he says, voice back to its usual cocky drawl. “Now, you picking the music, or are we just sitting in silence all night?”

Protective to a Fault

The party is too loud, too crowded. You regret coming the second you realize how packed it is, but Nick insisted he wasn’t letting you stay home alone.

“You gotta get out once in a while,” he had teased. “Or I’m gonna start thinking you secretly hate fun.”

You had rolled your eyes, but now, as you shift uncomfortably in the too-warm space, you almost wish you had stayed home.

Especially because the guy you’ve been trying to politely brush off for the last five minutes isn’t getting the hint.

“Come on, sweetheart,” the guy slurs, leaning in too close. “One dance—what’s the harm?”

Your stomach twists. “I said no.”

“That’s not what your eyes are saying—”

And then suddenly, Nick is there, standing between you and the guy like he was waiting for this moment.

“Hey, buddy,” Nick says, voice light, but there’s something dangerous underneath. “Didn’t she just say no?”

The guy scoffs, barely glancing at Nick. “Who the hell are you?”

Now normally Nick isn’t one for talking much. He likes to use his fists to communicate. But after promising his mother promising you, not to be so violent, he finds his restraint ticking like a clock at the moment. Nick tilts his head slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Someone with a short temper and a lot of free time. You wanna find out what happens when you ignore her again?”

The guy sizes Nick up, like he’s thinking about pushing his luck. But then Nick shifts slightly, and you know he’s already decided what will happen if this guy takes another step toward you.

The guy mutters something under his breath before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

Nick doesn’t watch him leave. Instead, he turns to you, scanning your face. “You okay?”

You nod, exhaling. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He doesn’t say anything—just hands you the drink from his own hand instead of yours.

You frown. “What—”

“Mine’s not spiked,” he says simply.

The realization hits you all at once. You glance down at the drink you were holding. Had that guy—?

Your stomach churns.

Nick sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I told you,” he mutters. “You gotta stop trusting people. I get to do that for you.”

Soft Spot for Animals

It’s past midnight when you walk into Nick’s garage, expecting to find him working on his car. Instead, you see him crouched down beside a tiny, scrappy-looking kitten, offering it a piece of leftover sandwich.

You stop in your tracks, biting back a grin. “Are you—”

Nick looks up sharply. “Shut up.”

You raise your hands in mock surrender. “Didn’t say a word.”

He mutters something under his breath and focuses back on the kitten. It hesitates before snatching the food from his hand, its little ribs visible under its fur.

“You’re keeping it,” you say, matter-of-fact.

Nick scoffs. “Hell no.”

Two days later, you walk into the garage and find the same kitten curled up in his lap while he absently scratches behind its ears.

You smirk. “Not keeping it, huh?”

Nick doesn’t even look up. “It’s temporary.”

Sure.

Night Owl

Your phone buzzes at 2 AM.

Nick: Come outside.

You sigh but grab your hoodie anyway, stepping out into the night air. He’s leaning against his car, arms crossed, looking up at the sky.

“You always do this?” you ask, stuffing your hands into your pockets. “Show up unannounced in the middle of the night?”

He tilts his head toward the passenger seat. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured you couldn’t either.”

You blink. He’s not wrong, but… how does he know that?

Still, you don’t argue. You get in.

He drives with the windows down, the air cool against your skin. Neither of you speak, but the silence is comfortable. Eventually, he pulls up to an overlook where the whole city stretches below.

For a while, you just sit there, watching the lights. Then, out of nowhere, he says, “You ever think about leaving?”

You glance at him. “Where would we go?”

He taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “Somewhere new. Somewhere no one knows us.”

Something in his voice makes your chest tighten.

“You’d take me with you?” you ask quietly.

Nick turns his head toward you, his expression unreadable. Then, just as softly, he says, “Wouldn’t go without you.”

Actions Over Words

Nick isn’t the type to say he cares.

Instead, he just shows up.

When your car won’t start in the middle of the night while you’re over late at a friends house, you don’t even get through the second ring before he picks up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Car won’t start,” you mumble. “I—I didn’t know who else to call—”

“Where are you?” he asks, already moving.

Fifteen minutes later, he pulls up beside you. He doesn’t say a word—just pops the hood, fixes the problem in five minutes, then leans against the car with his arms crossed.

“Next time, don’t wait so long to call me,” he says.

You sigh, rubbing your arms. “I didn’t want to bother you—”

He clicks his tongue. “Dumbest thing I’ve heard all night.”

You smile. “So… I’m not a bother?”

Nick gives you a look. Then, to your surprise, he reaches out and flicks your forehead.

“You better not be,” he mutters. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

[nicholasluvbot]

FLYING KISSㅤ𓈒ㅤ𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗈𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗄 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝖻𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 18-𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋-𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗒.

ㅤㅤ── 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗆𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾.

𝒇 ! readerㅤ𖥔ㅤ500ㅤㅤ><ㅤ`ㅤ𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌ㅤ𓈒ㅤ──── cautions 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒 ㅤㅤ🍀ㅤㅤ𝖠𝖱𝖢𝖧𝗂𝖵𝖤

woonhak always stretches an arm out on the back of your chair, absentmindedly playing with your hair or tracing circles on your shoulder while pretending not to care. if someone else tries to squeeze in between you, he automatically shifts his chair closer to yours—anything to be near you.

he swears he never gets jealous, but the moment another guy gets a little too close to you, his whole demeanor shifts. "oh, that guy?" he says, unimpressed. "he's like 5'7 on a good day." he tries to act indifferent, but he's noticeably more clingy for the rest of the day, standing closer than usual, his shoulder brushing against yours, making sure you laugh at all of his jokes instead.

if someone talks about asking you out in front of him, he lets out a short, sharp laugh before mumbling, "yeah, good luck with that." and when someone actually flirts with you in front of him, he plays it off with fake nonchalance—jaw tightening, but his voice light and teasing. "oh, so you're cheating on me now?" he tilts his head, wearing an exaggerated look of betrayal.

you shove at his arm playfully. "you are so unserious."

"dead serious," he quips, resting his chin on his hand as he watches you. "but hey, do what you want. just don't come crying to me when you realize no one treats you as well as i do."

he teases you relentlessly but goes completely still when you lean your head on his shoulder. he pretends not to care, staring ahead like it’s no big deal, but you can feel how stiff he gets at first. then, slowly, his body relaxes, and after a while, he even tilts his head to rest against yours.

in class, he flicks your forehead when he catches you zoning out or dozing off, playfully scolding you to pay attention—then immediately following it with a quiet, "you okay?" in a softer voice.

he "accidentally" wins a carnival game and tosses you the stuffed animal casually. "i don’t need it," he says, even though you both know he was trying hard to win. but later, when you’re not looking, he grins to himself, satisfied when he sees you still hugging it hours later.

he always finds an excuse to be at your house, lounging on your couch like it’s his second home. he acts like he's there for the snacks, but really, he just loves being around you, in your space.

he grumbles about how you always make him do things, like helping you carry your stuff or waiting for you after class, but the one time you don’t ask for his help, he frowns. "what, you didn’t need me?" and when you say you didn’t want to bother him, he scoffs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "idiot. it’s not a bother."

it’s so obvious—everyone sees it. he thinks he hides it well, but every so often, when you're laughing, focused, or just doing anything at all, he gets this soft look in his eyes. it only lasts a second before he snaps out of it, clearing his throat and teasing you about something random. but when jaehyun asks, "dude, do you like them or something?" woonhak just scoffs, looking anywhere but at you.

"who wouldn’t?"

‎ ‎     • 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 🗯 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 ───── 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 ˆᗜˆ

tags ( boynextdoor ) @coquettejunnie , @hanninova , @chaeneu , @aloe-7 , @en-dream , @rizzkisworld , @cosmicwintr , @mydearyeseo , @ladyaida , @fae-renjun , @slytherinshua , @jjennuine , @kstrucknet , @k-films , @sgz-net

[prlssprfctn]

AU, where Priest!Jason Todd keeps receiving random quests from the alternative universe, who are very, very persistent on getting his advice.

At some point, Jason stops getting surprised by the absolute unexplainable events in his hometown. He died and came back — so, what are some guests from the other realities for him? Absolutely nothing. He already helped that girl once, Traci. She also appeared out of nowhere.

And Jason... well, Father Jason is all about helping people, not asking questions.

That's why, when he sees a strange flash of light outside the church and hears heavy steps, coming closer to the confessional, he makes sure not to be too curious. Curiousity leads people to wrong paths sometimes.

'Jason?' The low, rumbling voice asks.

It reminds him of Thomas Wayne's a little but softer.

Thomas is not necessarily his friend, but they smoke sometimes together since Jason once accidentally found bleeding out Batman at the stairs leading to his church. He is a nice man.

'You shall call me Father Todd,' Jason fixes the guest methodically. 'How can I help you, my child?'

The man lets out a soft, amused laughter, and Jason hears him dragging his heavy body inside the booth before plopping on the cold, wooden seat.

'I am not here to confess,' the man warns. 'But I might need an advice.'

'An ask for help is also a confession in a way; sometimes, a bolder one,' Jason replies. 'I will do my best to guide you, my child. Tell me more about the issue you are facing.'

'I... I have a son,' the man starts slowly. 'I hurt him a lot in the past. And I don't know how to fix this.'

Jason hums, encouraging him to continue. They talk for the rest of the night. The mysterious guest leaves pleased.

In a week after that, another guest drops by. This time, it is a young man who keeps tapping his feet nervously and persistently cracks jokes straight until Jason gently tells him to lay on him all his burdens. This makes him snap and break down crying. Richard — or so he calls himself — never asks for advice, but he confesses in all things he had done; and then for things he didn't. Jason hears him out, reassuring that half of those wasn't even his fault, and they pray together that night through the thin wall dividing them. Richard tells him that it was a while he felt himself this free before leaving. Jason never hears from him again.

A seemingly young boy visits next. He is amused for the most of the time, but Jason still patiently talks him through the casualties of ceremonies like this, deciding not to get mad at a teenager — he was no better at that age. Somewhere in between long pauses and questions, Timothy suddenly starts talking quietly about his parents; about how they were religious, but he never understood their faith. Not really.

He says he misses him, and he wishes he could turn time back to agree on following his mom in the church in these rare days they were not working. They sit together for a while, and Jason allows him to reminisce about his parents. Tim leaves, thanking him for being heard.

Jason accepts a few more strange quests. A kid with the vocabulary of an ancient creature that admits that he is not even Christian — Jason still offers him an ear telling him it doesn’t matter; not when a child of God needs advice — a silent girl that speaks in short sentences and asks how to get rid of regret and guilt following her around for years, and then, a total opposite one: a blabbering and giggling girl that ends up talking with him about her mom. He swears, at some point Duke, the kid from Narrows that he has over with his family on Sundays, visits him too; just, somehow, an older one. Even that doesn't cause Father Todd to ask questions.

...Not until someone enters the confessional with a strange, animal-like cautiousness.

'So, you are the one they visit all the time, huh?' The stranger comments, his voice... his voice surprisingly familiar. 'Father Todd.'

If there is a slight mocking intonation in the low voice, then Jason prefers to ignore it.

'That would be me, yes. How can I help you, my child?'

'Well, well, Father Todd... Riddle me this...'

The more the unknown boy speaks, the more nauseous Jason feels. He knows this story; he remembers finding Catherine dead, he remembers stealing tires — and even though the boy by the other side found a family, while he didn’t, the death and reborn he speaks about, is still something Jason relates to.

For the first time since he started to get strange visitors, Jason indulges himself — he allows curiosity to take over.

The visitor is in the middle of casually, almost intentionally so, retelling how he woke up in the casket, when Jason walks out of his part of booth, and unceremoniously opens the opposite side of it, facing a boy in the red armour. He hugs a big, intimidating helmet, and when their eyes meet, Jason freezes, despite knowing an answer all along.

It is him. Of course, it is him.

'Jesus fucking Christ, ruining the very little privacy this place has, in our Catholic house?' The other Jason mocks him, leaning slightly forward. 'I expected more from us. I am hurt.'

Father Todd just sighs.

Nothing could ever prepare him for needing to... accept a confession from himself. Yet, he is here, staring at the scruffy youth with a wolf-like smile who is so obviously lost behind all these fake bravado that it hurts.

'Behave,' he purses lips in a thin line before closing the door in his face again.

He doesn't need to see to know that a surprised expression touched his sharp features.

Jason makes his way back to his side of confessional, and clears up his throat again.

'I apologise. Please, you shall resume your story.'

The other Jason is silent for a while. He thinks the boy might leave — they had it in themselves, after all; leaving when being met with an unexpected touch of gentleness from others, instead of rage — but then, he doesn't.

His voice lacks all mockery and amusement when he speaks up again, the words lacing in a tale of sorrow and regrets.

And Father Todd... answers, of course. He is not here to ask questions, after all. He is all about helping people.

And who, if not Jason Todd, knows that there is no one but higher forces and themselves, who can help them through their toughest times?

[multific]

A Marriage Rewritten

Duke Leto Atreides x Reader

Summary: Your marriage to Duke Leto Atreides was meant to be political, love was never supposed to be part of the equation.

The marriage between you and Duke Leto Atreides was not one of love, nor even one of mutual respect at first.

It was political.

A deal struck between your father and the Atreides, one that bound you to a man who barely spared you a glance.

You understood why.

Leto did not trust your father, and in truth, you didn’t either. Your father was not a good man, and if anything, this marriage was an escape from his iron grip.

But Leto didn’t know that. To him, you were a pawn, a potential spy in his household.

You kept to yourself, avoiding the political discussions and war councils that seemed to take up most of Leto’s time.

You preferred the gardens, where the scent of flowers filled the air, where you could breathe freely, untouched by the weight of court affairs.

Every day, you took a quiet walk among the flowers, seeking calmness in their beauty.

It was on one of these walks that you found the kitten.

The tiny creature was injured, its small body trembling as it lay curled up beneath a bush.

Without thinking, you scooped it up and rushed to the medical wing of the keep. The doctors looked at you with confusion, hesitant as they explained they only treated people. But you refused to accept that.

"Please. It’s so small, and it’s hurt. You’re healers, aren’t you?"

The head physician sighed. "My lady, we are not trained in treating animals."

"Then learn," you snapped, surprising even yourself with the force of your words. "Do something!"

The commotion drew the attention of Duke Leto himself. You felt his presence before you saw him.

His voice, cool and commanding.

"What’s going on?"

The doctor turned to him. "The lady demands we treat an injured kitten, my lord." The doctor almost laughed at just how ridiculous your request was.

Leto’s gaze flickered to the trembling creature in your arms, then to your determined expression. He was silent for a long moment before he turned back to the doctor.

"Do as she says."

The doctor hesitated. "My lord—"

"I gave an order," Leto said, voice leaving no room for argument.

You looked up at him in shock, your grip tightening around the kitten. He held your gaze for a brief moment, something unreadable in his dark eyes before he turned and left without another word.

The kitten survived, thanks to Leto’s unexpected intervention.

You spent the next few weeks nursing the kitten back to health, feeding it, keeping it warm, and watching as it slowly regained its strength.

You named it Tika, and despite her initial fearfulness, she soon grew attached to you, curling up in your lap whenever you sat by the fire to read.

One evening, you were nestled in your usual spot, the soft glow of the fire illuminating the pages of your book, when the door to your chambers opened.

Leto stepped inside, his cloak dusted with the sand of Arrakis, exhaustion evident on his face.

He paused when he saw you the he saw the kitten sprawled across your lap, purring softly as you ran your fingers through her fur.

"You kept it," he murmured.

You looked up, surprised that he had spoken to you first. "Of course. She needed someone to care for her."

Leto walked closer, his expression thoughtful. "You’re not like your father."

You let out a soft laugh. "Thankfully, I never was."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before sitting in the chair opposite you. "I didn’t trust you when we married. I thought you were here to deceive me. I was wrong."

Your heart pounded as you set your book aside. "Leto—"

"Watching you these past weeks," he interrupted, his voice softer now, "seeing how kind you are, how you care so deeply... I was a fool. I married you out of obligation, but I find myself wanting more. Wanting you."

You stared at him, searching his face for any hesitation. You found none.

"Do you mean that?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "I do. And if you have me, I would like to build something real with you. Not just a marriage of duty, but one of love."

Tears welled in your eyes. For so long, you had felt alone in this marriage, but now, here he was, offering you what you had never dared to hope for.

"Yes," you breathed. "I would like that too."

A rare smile crossed his lips before he reached out, taking your hand in his. His thumb traced gentle circles over your skin, a silent promise of what was to come. And as he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, you knew—this was the beginning of something new, something beautiful.

A marriage not of convenience, but of love.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[wordsofwhimsy]

𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚎𝚜 & 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎 - 𝙿𝚝. 2

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

【ＰＡＩＲＩＮＧ】 ⦂ Mark Grayson x Reader

【ＧＥＮＲＥ】 ⦂ Fluff, romance, & slight!tragedy

【ＷＡＲＮＩＮＧＳ】 ⦂ None

【ＩＮＳＰＩＲＡＴＩＯＮ】 ⦂ “Forrest Gump” by Frank Ocean

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

♫♪ This is love, I know it’s true… ♫♪

Mornings had always been hard for you.  Most days you struggled to even open your eyes, let alone get out of bed.  As a young teenager you mother had told you this was a sign of depression.  You of course, being a teenager, brushed off her concern.  It took several years for you to come to the same conclusion on your own.

Mornings with Mark were different.

The sun seemed softer, warmer, dripping through the blinds like honey.  The songbirds were a melodious symphony that gave you a sense of peace.  Your mind was blank as you slowly blinked into consciousness.  Mark’s sleeping form was the first thing you clearly saw as your vision came to focus.  He was laid on his side turned towards you, lips slightly parted, and his face completely relaxed.  He was beautiful, and you were in love.  Unable to help yourself, and perhaps even unaware of your own actions, your fingers reached out to trace slowly over his shirtless chest.  They moved gingerly over the plains of his abdomen, dipping into the valley between his pecks, and skirting along his defined collarbones.  In synch with your fingers finding his jaw, you leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips.

Mark’s arms snaked around you in response, pulling you into a languid yet strong embrace.  His mouth moved against yours, melting you into a puddle on his bed.  “I hope I didn’t wake you up,” you murmured against his lips.

“No, no,” he assured between quick, soft kisses.  Then he paused and added, “Well, maybe.”  You rolled your eyes and pushed playfully away from him.  Chuckling he and pulled you back in, keeping you close. “Wait no I’m kidding, come back.”  You immediately gave up the fight and settled comfortably back into his arms.  He placed a kiss to the top of your head, and in that quiet moment you wished it could last forever.  That was until you felt a pang of hunger curdle in your stomach.  Knowing that an embarrassing growl was just around the corner, you asked,

“Would you want to go get breakfast?”

“That sounds good,” he responded, burying another kiss into your messy bedhead. “Get ready.  I know the perfect place.” 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Konnichiwa!” A woman of small frame and jet black hair stood at your table side, a toothy grin painting her face.

“Konnichiwa,” you greet back with a small awkward chuckle.

“Are you Americans?” the woman asked, head slightly cocked to the side. 

“We are—sorry, we don’t know Japanese.”  You threw a quick glance to Mark whose eyes were fixed on you. 

“That’s okay~” the waitress responded promptly in a singsong tone. “What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have the pancakes.”

“I’ll do the tamagoyaki [a/n: this is a “sweet and savory omelette” that is a traditional breakfast option in Japan], please,” Mark added, his stare only now moving to look at the waitress. 

“Hai!” She gave a slight bow before heading off to presumably ring in your order.  Waiting to be sure the waitress was out of earshot you finally looked to Mark with an incredulous expression.

“Y’know, this is definitely not what I had in mind when I suggested breakfast.”  He flashed his pearly whites at you, apparently pleased with his choice.

“Trust me, Japan really has breakfast figured out.”  You chuckled before taking a sip of your water. “My mom and I come here sometimes.”  The unspoken question on your mind: did your father come too?  Instead, you say,

“Debbie makes some of the best pancakes, I’ll have to see if this place can stack up.”

“Pun intended?” Mark laughed.

“In all seriousness, I’ve never been to Japan before.  Tokyo is gorgeous!”  He hummed in agreeance.

“You should see the countryside.”

“If it’s anything like it is in anime’s I can only imagine.” 

“Honestly? It’s pretty close.” Your foot bounced under the table, still shaking off the jitters from the flight here.  You took another sip of water, dehydrated from the adrenaline rush.  Mark’s broken face came into view as you put the glass back down.  He tried to hide it, but you knew him well, and his pain spoke to you even in the silence.  Uncrossing your legs you slipped your foot from the sandal you were wearing and reached out to rub your toes over calf.  This seemed to bring him back to you, his body tensing for a moment then relaxing.  “I’m excited for you to try these hotcakes.  I’m telling you they are kind of ridiculously fluffy.  It’s like eating a cloud.”

You laughed, eliciting a grin from him. “Well now I’m really excited.”  Your morning continued on in this fashion, conversation staying to lighthearted subjects and an obvious all together avoidance of what happened yesterday.  A part of you wondered if he chose to eat on the opposite side of the planet in an attempt to avoid hearing any news stories or strangers’ conversations relating to the matter.  The thought alone left your heart burning in your chest.  As desperately as you wanted to talk to him and find out the details of the event, you would leave the ball in his court and wait patiently for him to be ready to open up.

Instead, you offered him wordless comfort in the small gestures of connection as you sat there together.  Rubbing your foot against his leg under the table, reaching over with your hand to rest on top of his, placing a kiss to the top of his head when coming back from the restroom.  It was the best you could give him, and though they seemed insignificant to you, they meant the world to Mark.  They were all he needed in that moment.

“Okay, don’t tell Debbie, but that might have been the best pancake I’ve ever had,” you confessed, leaning back in your seat with your hands placed on your stomach in dramatic effect.  Mark’s face lit up.

“I told you!  It doesn’t even make sense how good they are.”  You laughed at his excitement.

“Speaking of Debbie, is she working today?”  The joy melted quickly from his face, and yours mirrored the same emotion.

“I doubt it.  I should probably go see how she’s doing…”  You stayed silent but nodded your head in agreement.  Having paid the tab a few minutes prior, you both stood from the table and headed back to the small alley you’d landed in.  “Ready?” he asked, you now cradled in his arms with your arms wrapped around his neck. 

“Mhmm.”  You both move in synch towards each other, kissing slowly and deeply.  The feeling of his lips against yours never ceased to put butterflies in your chest, your toes coming to a point in pure bliss.  Your mouths moved together, complimenting one another effortlessly.  His tongue skimmed along your bottom lip but then pulled away shyly, sending chills down your spin.  By the time you broke away for air you were already high above the ground and moving just below the clouds.  You buried your face into the crook of his neck, still unable to handle the height after all this time.

Instead of thinking of how far up you were, you focused on the feeling of weightlessness you had when held in his arms.  For all his strength and otherworldly capabilities, he treated you like a delicate flower.  Doing his best to offer you the world while forever being mindful of your fragility.  He always kept you so secure, and flying like this in his arms left you with a feeling of almost ethereality.

Unknown to you, this feeling was requited in Mark – only he felt the weightlessness in his mind and heart.  He could never let you go, and had resolved long ago that you would be apart of his life forever.  Even in the centuries to come where you were dead and gone, you would live on eternally in his heart.

♫♪ I won’t forget you. ♫♪

[airandyeah]

Sins (Alpha Geto X Omega Gojo X Omega Reader) Part.19

My Masterlist Series Masterlist Warnings: Obvious A/B/O dynamics, fated mates, suggestive comments or actions, just generally Minors DNI-just in case. This will be similar to Pink Pony Club, where I just mark every chapter as 18+ This is the chapter before the last one!!! This has been an adventure of daily updates, has definitely been an escape for me with shit in my relationship and otherwise life- being shitty. So glad to have so many people enjoy this series, if you liked it, check out Animals in my masterlist, I will also have 1 more in my A/B/O collection, with Alpha!Nanami X Omega!Reader X Alpha!Higuruma , so keep an eye out.

As you and Satoru stepped into the living room, Suguru looked up from where he was lounging on the couch, his eyes immediately locking onto Satoru’s hand resting protectively over your stomach. His brows furrowed slightly, his gaze flickering between the two of you, sharp and assessing.

"What’s going on?" he asked, his tone casual, but there was a weight behind it—an instinctive pull, an awareness that something was different.

Satoru didn't answer right away. Instead, he grinned—almost smug, but there was an underlying excitement bubbling just beneath the surface. Without a word, he slowly lifted his other hand, revealing the pregnancy tests clutched between his fingers.

Suguru stilled.

His eyes flickered to the tests, his expression unreadable for a long, agonizing moment. You held your breath, heart pounding as you watched him process what he was seeing.

Then—

A slow inhale. His fingers twitched against his knee.

"You’re pregnant," he finally said, his voice quiet—almost disbelieving.

You swallowed, suddenly nervous, but nodded. "Yeah."

Another beat of silence.

Then Suguru was on his feet.

Before you could react, he was in front of you, his large hands cradling your face as he searched your expression—eyes flickering with something intense, something overwhelming. His thumbs brushed against your cheeks, reverent, as if grounding himself in the reality of it.

"You’re pregnant," he repeated, softer now, and this time, you heard the slight shake in his voice.

A breath of laughter escaped you, wet and fragile. "I am."

Suguru exhaled sharply, something unreadable flashing across his face—before he pulled you against him, wrapping you in the warmth of his embrace.

Satoru snickered. "Damn, you’re way calmer than I thought you’d be."

"Shut up, Satoru."

"What? You’re not even crying."

Suguru pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression impossibly gentle. "He’ll cry later," he murmured, brushing a kiss against your forehead. "When it actually hits him."

You huffed a small laugh, burying your face in his chest.

Satoru threw his arms around both of you in an exaggerated hug, effectively sandwiching you between them. "Guess that means we’re really doing this, huh?”

Suguru's grip tightened, his lips curving into a soft, almost wistful smile as he glanced down at your stomach.

"Yeah," he murmured, voice filled with quiet wonder. "We really are." ~~~ From the moment the news settled in, Satoru and Suguru became downright overbearing. You barely had a moment to yourself without one—if not both—hovering nearby.

Every appointment? They were there, front and center. Satoru would bombard the doctor with endless questions while Suguru listened intently, arms crossed, analyzing every detail like he was planning a mission.

At home? Forget privacy. One of them was always touching you—whether it was a hand on your stomach, a palm resting on your lower back, or just an arm draped over you as if to remind you that you weren’t alone. Satoru, especially, had developed a habit of pressing his ear against your belly at random times, dramatically claiming he could hear something.

"It’s too early," you groaned as he flopped onto your lap yet again, face smushed against your stomach.

"You don’t know that," he argued, muffled against your skin. "What if our kid’s a prodigy?”

Suguru, from his spot beside you, sighed but didn’t bother stopping him. Instead, he reached out, resting his palm over your stomach, fingers tracing absentminded circles. "You’re both ridiculous," you mumbled, but you didn’t move away.

Truthfully? It was overwhelming. But it was also warm, safe.

Because no matter how much they hovered, how overbearing they were, one thing was clear—

You were loved.

The waves crashed softly against the shore, the salty breeze carrying the scent of the ocean as you sat between your mates at a private dinner on the beach. The table was set under a canopy of twinkling lights, the golden glow casting warmth over the three of you as you shared a quiet meal together.

Satoru was the one chatting the most—rambling about baby names, debating whether the pup would have his eyes or Suguru’s hair, and occasionally sneaking bites from your plate despite having his own. Suguru, as always, was more reserved, but the way his hand rested on your thigh, thumb tracing soothing circles, showed how content he was.

Then, just as you were about to tease Satoru for stealing another bite, Suguru spoke.

"We should get married after the pup comes."

Your hand froze midair, fork halfway to your mouth as you blinked at him. Satoru, for once, was also speechless, his chewing slowing as he turned to his mate.

Suguru didn’t flinch under the weight of your stares. His eyes were steady as he continued, "Not because of the pup—though that’s part of it. But because we already know we want this. We want each other. So why wait?"

You felt your chest tighten, something deep and overwhelming stirring inside you. Satoru recovered first, his grin slow and genuine as he leaned into you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Guess that means we’ll have a ring on your finger soon, sweetheart," he murmured, nuzzling into you.

Suguru chuckled, reaching for your hand. "What do you think?"

Your heart pounded, but there was no fear, no hesitation.

"I think... I’d like that." ~~~ The room was quiet except for the steady hum of the ultrasound machine and the soft squelch of gel being spread across your belly. Satoru was practically vibrating in his seat beside you, holding your hand in both of his, while Suguru stood on the other side, his large hand resting protectively on your thigh.

You were nervous. Excited, but nervous. Seeing your pup for the first time on the screen made everything feel even more real.

The nurse moved the wand across your stomach, eyes focused on the screen, and then—she gasped.

Your heart stopped. "What?" you blurted, gripping Satoru’s hand tighter.

She blinked before smiling, turning the screen slightly so you could all see. "It’s not just one baby... it’s two."

The world tilted.

"Twins?!" Satoru’s voice cracked as he practically lunged forward, eyes wide with shock.

Suguru, who had remained calm this entire time, suddenly looked pale. "Two?"

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. Your gaze was locked onto the screen where, sure enough, two tiny shapes curled together in your womb, their little hearts flickering with life.

"Oh my god," you finally breathed, tears prickling in your eyes.

Satoru let out something between a laugh and a strangled cry. "We’re gonna have two?" He turned to Suguru, shaking his arm. "We’re having two babies!"

Suguru swallowed thickly, then exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face before placing a kiss on your knuckles. "Guess we’ll need to double everything," he murmured, voice thick with emotion.

You let out a watery laugh. "Guess so..."

And as the nurse continued explaining the details, your mates never let go of you—not for a single second. ~~~ You were exhausted. Drained. Completely and utterly spent. Delivering twins was no joke, and if you ever heard Satoru joking about anything related to this experience, you were going to strangle him with the hospital sheets.

Speaking of Satoru… you turned your head, fixing him with a withering glare as you laid in the hospital bed, body sore and aching in ways you didn’t think possible.

Both babies were his. Twin girls. You had two of Satoru’s mischievous genes running through your bloodstream now.

Satoru, the absolute menace, had the audacity to grin at you, cradling one of the tiny girls in his arms while Suguru held the other. "You did amazing, sweetheart," he cooed, completely ignoring the way you were still glaring daggers at him. "Look at them—absolute perfection. Just like their mama."

"You're too damn smug right now," you muttered, your voice hoarse.

"Well, can you blame me?" He tilted his head down to kiss the forehead of the baby in his arms, his expression soft with pure adoration. "They’re gorgeous. Just like you."

Suguru, always the calmer one, chuckled and leaned over to brush your hair back. "You should rest, love," he murmured, his hand warm as it cradled your face. "You did something incredible today."

You exhaled heavily, still glaring at Satoru but reaching out to take his hand nonetheless. "Just know, I’m never letting you live this down," you grumbled, though your eyes softened when they landed on your daughters.

Satoru only laughed, squeezing your hand and leaning in to kiss your temple. "That’s fair, princess. But at least admit… it was worth it."

You sighed, letting your gaze linger on the two tiny miracles in their arms. "Yeah… it was." ~~~ The wedding was perfect. Small, intimate—just the way you wanted it. The people who truly mattered were there, and nothing else seemed to exist beyond the love that filled the air.

Nanami and his wife walked down the aisle first, each carrying one of your baby girls in their arms. The twins weren’t old enough to understand what was happening, but that didn’t stop the moment from being one of the most heartwarming things you’d ever seen.

Nanami—ever the serious one—looked slightly awkward as he carried the tiny bundle dressed in soft white lace. Meanwhile, his wife was smiling, utterly in love with the little girl in her arms. Together, they carefully tossed the flower petals down the aisle, making sure to scatter them evenly.

The sight was adorable.

Satoru, standing at the altar with Suguru, visibly melted at the scene, his bright eyes twinkling with affection as he watched his daughters make their way toward him. "They’re stealing the whole show," he whispered to Suguru.

Suguru smirked, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. "Like father, like daughters."

When it was finally your turn to walk down the aisle, the two of them froze, their eyes locked solely on you.

You saw the way Satoru’s breath hitched, the rare moment of complete, unfiltered emotion flashing across his face. And Suguru—normally the composed one—looked just as struck, his hands tightening at his sides as if to ground himself.

This was it.

This was your forever.

And as you stepped forward, heart swelling with love, you knew without a doubt—there was nowhere else in the world you’d rather be. The ceremony had been adjusted—crafted to reflect your love, your bond, and your world. In a place where fated mates were bound by something deeper than law, where love transcended tradition, it was not just a wedding between two people. It was three.

The officiant stood before you, unbothered by the uniqueness of the moment. In this world, love like yours was not only accepted but recognized. It was allowed.

Satoru, Suguru, and you—all standing at the altar, side by side, hands interwoven as the words of union were spoken.

Satoru squeezed your fingers, his usual cocky smirk softened by the overwhelming emotion in his eyes. Suguru, standing on your other side, traced soothing circles into the back of your hand, his warmth grounding you as you tried not to let the tears spill over.

"Do you, together, vow to honor and cherish one another?" the officiant asked.

There was no hesitation.

"We do."

The words echoed in unison, strong and unwavering.

Your daughters cooed in Nanami and his wife’s arms, and you swore for a moment, time itself paused—just long enough for you to fully absorb this.

The world had not always been kind. There had been grief, loss, pain. But in this moment, all of it had led to something undeniably right.

With a final exchange of rings, sealed with a kiss from both of your mates, the ceremony was complete.

Satoru grinned against your lips. "So... does this mean I get to call you my wife now?"

Suguru hummed, brushing his nose against your temple. "Our wife."

And as you laughed through your happy tears, you knew—this was just the beginning of forever. ~~~ It hadn’t even been that long since the wedding—just enough time to settle into life as newlyweds, just enough time to adjust to raising twin girls who were already proving to be a handful. Yet here you were, staring at another set of positive tests, stomach twisting with nerves and something softer—something warmer.

This time, there was no hesitation in telling them. You had barely stepped out of the bathroom before Satoru noticed the look on your face, his sharp eyes darting between you and the white stick clutched in your hand.

"Again?" he blurted, his eyes widening before he grinned like an idiot. "Damn, we really don’t waste time, huh?"

Suguru was more composed, stepping forward and gently cupping your face. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, exhaling shakily. "Yeah, I just—" Your hand rested instinctively over your stomach. "This time, it’s yours."

A flicker of something passed through Suguru’s eyes—shock, awe, pride—all of it washing over him at once. His hand moved to cover yours, palm warm and steady. "Mine?" he echoed, his voice softer than you had ever heard it.

Satoru let out an exaggerated groan, but the teasing glint in his eyes betrayed how happy he was. "Oh, great, now we’re even. I just know you’re gonna rub this in my face."

Suguru ignored him, his full attention on you. "Thank you," he murmured, pressing a slow, reverent kiss to your forehead. "I’ll take care of both of you."

You smiled, melting into him. "I know you will."

And as Satoru wrapped his arms around both of you, already brainstorming baby names, you knew—this family, this love—it was everything you had ever wanted.

Taglist is always open for anyone! Just comment, send an ask, or a DM and I'll add you! Taglist: @purpleicing , mini-kunoichi , @gravity-valley , @jinjen , @c0quin , @makingtimemine , @asweetblueberry2 , @vyxte I think that's everyone who asked to be tagged, I apologize if I missed anyone!!! Perma-tags: @thenightperson

[blowndrip]

A DAY WITH YOU

fluff 💭

pairing: kylian mbappé x reader

summary: When Kylian has a day off, all he wants is to be with you. From lazy mornings to stolen kisses, this is a day filled with love, and laughter.

A/N: soft kylian one-shot fluff. Enjoy ☺️

The morning light filters through the curtains, casting a soft golden glow across the room. I stir awake, feeling the warmth of Kylian’s arms wrapped securely around me. His breathing is steady, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that’s become so familiar, so comforting. I tilt my head slightly to look at him, his face relaxed in sleep, his dark lashes brushing against his cheeks. Even like this, he looks effortlessly perfect.

I don’t want to move, not when he’s holding me like this, but as if sensing I’m awake, his arms tighten around me. His voice, still rough with sleep, breaks the silence.

“Morning,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my forehead.

“Morning,” I whisper back, a smile tugging at my lips.

He shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at me. His hair is messy, his eyes still half-closed, but the way he’s looking at me makes my heart skip a beat. There’s something so tender in his gaze, something that makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world that matters to him right now.

“Sleep well?” he asks, his voice low and warm.

“Always, when I’m with you,” I reply, my cheeks heating up at the honesty in my words.

He grins, that boyish, heart-stopping grin that always makes me weak in the knees. “Good,” he says, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my lips. “Because I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

///

We stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the world outside feeling miles away. Eventually, Kylian sits up, stretching lazily before turning to me with a playful glint in his eyes.

“What do you feel like doing today?” he asks, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my arm.

“Honestly?” I say, smiling up at him. “I just want to stay here with you. No plans, no distractions. Just us.”

His smile softens, and he leans down to kiss me again, this time longer, sweeter. “I like that plan,” he murmurs against my lips.

///

We spend the morning in bed, talking and laughing about nothing and everything. Kylian tells me stories about his teammates, his voice animated as he mimics their expressions and gestures. I can’t help but laugh, the sound filling the room and making his eyes light up with pride.

At one point, he grabs his phone and starts playing some of his favorite music, the soft melodies blending perfectly with the warmth of the room. He pulls me to my feet, his hands resting on my waist as we sway gently to the rhythm.

“You know,” he says, his voice low and teasing, “you’re not a bad dancer.”

I laugh, resting my head against his chest. “And you’re not so bad yourself.”

He hums in response, his fingers tracing circles on my back. “Only for you,” he says, his tone softer now. “I’d do anything for you.”

///

Later, we move to the couch, a blanket draped over us as we watch a movie. Or at least, we try to. Kylian spends more time watching me than the screen, his fingers tracing patterns on my arm.

“You’re not even paying attention,” I say, glancing at him.

“I am,” he insists, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’m just… distracted.”

“By what?”

“You,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

I feel my cheeks flush, but before I can respond, he’s pulling me closer, his lips finding mine in a kiss that’s slow and sweet and full of everything he doesn’t say out loud.

///

That night, as we lie in bed, his arms around me, I feel a sense of peace I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. His breathing is steady, his heartbeat a soothing rhythm against my back.

“y/n?” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” he says, his words soft but sure.

I turn in his arms, meeting his gaze in the dim light. “I love you too,” I reply, my voice just as quiet but just as certain.

He smiles, pulling me closer, and I know that no matter what happens, as long as I have him, I’ll always have this. This warmth, this love, this feeling of being exactly where I’m meant to be.

[empty-dream]

"It's like a cold fire."

Bonus:

[wonsiwon]

jealous over a bunny? | p.sh

sinopsis | where sunghoon finds himself unexpectedly jealous of a giant jellycat bunny. feeling ignored by the giant bunny, decides to give you something else to be entertained by: himself.

pairing | boyfriend!sunghoon x fem!reader

genre | established relationship, smut

warnings | pussy eating + fingering + nicknames + messy sex + no mention of protection.

sunghoon didn’t think it through. at the time, it seemed like a cute idea—he knew how much you loved plushies, and the way your face lit up when you saw the giant jellycat bunny was totally worth it. but now? now that stupid thing had basically replaced him.

every time he came over, it was there. taking up space on your bed, always by your side, like some oversized third wheel. you’d hug it at night, bury your face into it, and sunghoon would just sit there, arms crossed, watching you get all cozy with a stuffed animal instead of him.

he’d tried to reason with you. maybe put it in the corner or something, he suggested once, already knowing you’d ignore him. and, of course, you did. the bunny wasn’t going anywhere.

that’s when it started bothering him more than it should. he’d lie next to you, barely getting any space, watching as you clung to that thing like it was the best thing in the world. and yeah, it was stupid to be jealous over a plushie, but here he was, glaring at the bunny like it personally offended him.

sunghoon sat at the edge of your bed, staring at the ridiculous plush like it had personally wronged him. it was stupid—he knew that. but the way you were practically draped over it, using its leg as a pillow while you scrolled through your phone, just pissed him off for no reason.

“that thing takes up half your bed” he muttered, eyeing it like it might move just to spite him.

you hummed in response, barely glancing up. “mhm. it’s comfy.”

sunghoon scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “you have a whole boyfriend, and you’re cuddling that.”

you finally looked up at him, your lips curving into a knowing smile. “are you jealous of a stuffed animal?”

sunghoon stiffened, the edge of his mouth twitching. “no.” he said quickly, maybe a little too quickly. but it was stupid, right? getting worked up over a plushie. still, he couldn’t help it. it felt like you were hugging it more than him these days.

sunghoon shifted uncomfortably, watching as you giggled, completely absorbed in your phone. it had been minutes since he arrived, and you hadn’t even looked up. the bunny had fully claimed your attention, and he was just… there.

before all this, he used to be the one you’d curl up with at night, the one you’d lay on after a long day, but now it was that stupid bunny.

he exhaled sharply, trying to push the feeling down. he wasn’t about to make a big deal out of it, but it did feel a little ridiculous. slowly, he slid onto the bed next to you, leaning back against the headboard with his arms still crossed.

“so..” he started casually “you planning on giving me any attention today, or should i just get comfy next to… mr. bunny over here?” sunghoon leaned in slightly, his voice softer now, a hint of playful irritation. “princess, you’re really going to make me fight with a stuffed animal for your attention?”

sunghoon watched as you slowly put your phone away, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips when you crawled into his lap. he raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his nose.

“is this better?” you asked, your voice playful but soft.

before you could tease him, he tilted his head, closing the distance between you in one smooth motion. his lips brushed against yours, properly, slow, warm, and just a little bit teasing.

his other hand found its way to your jaw, thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. he hummed against your lips, a low sound of satisfaction, as you curled your fingers into the fabric of his hoodie.

his kiss deepened, his tongue gently brushing against your bottom lip, asking for more. and when you opened to him, he took it as an invitation. you responded just as eagerly, your hands gripping the back of his hoodie tighter as his tongue traced the inside of your mouth, pushing you further into the kiss.

The subtle grind of your hips against his didn’t go unnoticed. sunghoon’s breath hitched, and his grip on your waist tightened, a low groan escaping him as he shifted to meet the movement. your body moved against his in a slow, feeling him harden beneath you. the kiss became all-consuming, hot and messy.

"you know.." he murmured, his voice low and husky. his lips found your neck, trailing hot kisses along your skin. you shivered, tilting your head to give him better access. “why don't we give your little friend a show?"

his hands roamed your body, and as your clothes fell away, sunghoon turned you abruptly over onto your stomach. you felt the soft fur of the giant bunny plushie beneath you.

"face down." sunghoon commanded as he swatted his hand against your ass, the sound of it ringing through the room. you let out a whine, burying your face into the plush belly of the stuffed animal.

his hands trailed down your back, fingers tracing the curve of your spine. he leaned over you, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses along your shoulder. you shivered, face still buried in the plush bunny's fur.

“look at you" sunghoon murmured, his hot breath tickled the back of your neck as he pressed himself against you, his hardness evident through his pants. "so beautiful."

he gripped your hips firmly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he slowly grinded against you. "you like that, don't you?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. "feeling me, all hard and ready for you." his hand sliding down your belly to cup your mound through your panties. he rubbed gently, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm. “tell me what you want, baby," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "tell me how you want me to fuck you."

you arched your back, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. Your breath hitched as his fingers traced the outline of your lips through the thin fabric of your panties. “please.." you gasped, your voice trembling with need.

sunghoon growled low in his throat, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. he pulled them down slowly, his knuckles brushing against your sensitive skin.

his hands moved to his belt, the metal buckle clinking loudly as he undid it. he slid the leather strap through the loops of his pants, the sound echoing in the room. you watched over your shoulder as he unbuttoned his jeans, slowly pulling down the zipper. he pushed his pants down his hips, revealing his the waistband of his boxers.

you could see the outline of his erection straining against the fabric, the tip damp with pre-cum. he hooked his thumbs into the elastic, pulling his boxers down inch by inch. his cock sprang free, thick and hard, the head glistening in the dim light. he gripped himself at the base, giving his shaft a few slow pumps. then, with a wicked grin, he pressed the tip against your entrance, rubbing it up and down your slit.

you moaned loudly, your hips bucking back against him as he teased you with the tip of his cock. "that’s it, baby," he encouraged, one hand sliding up to tangle in your hair. "let me hear you." sunghoon chuckled, as he continued his slow torture, circling your entrance with his tip but refusing to push inside.

your moans grew louder, more desperate and just when you thought you might explode from frustration, he finally gave you what you craved.

with a smooth thrust, sunghoon entered you, filling you completely. your fingers clutched at the bunny's fur as pleasure coursed through your body. "fuck…” sunghoon growled, his voice thick with lust. "you feel so good, baby. so tight and wet for me."

the giant bunny plushie beneath you shifted with each thrust, its soft fur tickling your bare skin. you clutched at its ears, muffling your moans against its plush body.

you lift your head, meeting the bunny's innocent button eyes. the contrast between its cute appearance and the lewd acts being performed around it only heightened your arousal. you gripped its ears tightly, rolling your eyes when you felt his hands sliding up to grab your breasts. he squeezed them roughly, pinching your nipples between his fingers.

“shit, your pussy is gripping me so tight.” sunghoon panted, his hips moving at a frantic pace now. “im gonna fill you up, baby.”

"im gonna cum" you whine and he leaned over you, his muscular chest pressing against your back as he pounded into you mercilessly.

"come for me, baby” he commanded, his voice a low, seductive growl. the bunny plushie beneath you bounced wildly, its stuffing shifting with each aggressively thrust. tears streamed down your face as you cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" you sobbed, your nails digging into the bunny's fur.

with a final, deep thrust, Sunghoon buried himself deep inside you. but Sunghoon didn't stop. he gripped your hips tightly, flipping you onto your back. before you could catch your breath, he buried his face between your legs, his tongue delving into your dripping core.

“oh god” you gasped, your body arching off the bed.

sunghoon’s tongue delved into your folds, lapping at your juices like a man starved. He sucked on your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of your soaked entrance.

your legs trembled as he pushed you towards another orgasm.

“sunghoon, please..” you begged, your voice breaking. "I need...I need..."

he knew exactly what you needed. with a final, hard suck on your clit, he pushed you over the edge. you came undone, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over you. sunghoon didn't stop, his tongue and fingers working you through your orgasm until you were a sobbing, shaking mess beneath him. "that’s it, baby” he murmured, kissing his way up your body.

But he wasn't done with you yet.

sunghoon crawled up your body, his lips trailing kisses along your collarbone and neck. he captured your mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue sliding against yours, letting you taste yourself on him. you moaned into the kiss, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly. he settled between your legs, his hard dick pressing against you again. you gasped, breaking the kiss to look up at him with hooded eyes.

"sunghoon, I don't know if I can..." you started, but he silenced you with another kiss.

"I'll be gentle," he murmured against your lips. slowly, carefully, he entered you, giving you time to adjust to his size. you whimpered, your nails digging into his back as he filled you completely.

he began to move, his thrusts long and deep, hitting that sweet spot inside you with each pass. you legs wrapped around his waist, urging him deeper, faster.

sunghoon's piercing gaze locked onto yours, his intense stare sending shivers down your spine. his sharp jawline was clenched, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his pale skin as he moved above you. you couldn't help but admire the way his biceps flexed with each thrust.

his dark hair was messy, falling across his forehead, and his full lips were parted as he panted with exertion. but it was his eyes that held you captive - the way they burned with desire, the way they drank in every inch of your body as if committing it to memory.

"you're so fucking gorgeous," he moaned. "I could spend hours just looking at you."

sunghoon's thrusts slowed, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, sensual kiss. his breathing grew heavier, his thrusts becoming more erratic.

“fuck, baby..” he gasped, breaking the kiss. "im gonna cum. im gonna fill you up so fucking deep." he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning across your skin. his hips snapped forward, driving into you with a final, deep thrust. you felt him pulse inside you as he reached his peak, his release warm and thick as it spilled inside of you.

sunghoon collapsed on top of you, his body heavy and spent. he panted heavily, his face buried in the crook of your neck. he rolled off you, flopping onto his back beside you. He threw an arm over his eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath.

you lay there, a trembling, satisfied mess. your hair was a wild tangle, sticking to your sweat-dampened forehead. your lips were swollen and bruised from sunghoon’s kisses, your neck marked with hickeys. you looked utterly destroyed.

he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“you okay?" he murmured, his voice filled with awe and tenderness. you nodded, snuggling against him.

"im perfect." you yawned, your eyelids growing heavy. sunghoon tightened his hold on you, his hand continuing its gentle caress.

his gaze drifted to the bunny, a small smirk played on his lips as his mind raced with dirty thoughts. he pictured you, naked and alone, grinding against the bunny plushie, your hands exploring your body as you pleasured yourself. he imagined the way your breasts would bounce, the sounds of your moans filling the room. he felt his cock stirring again at the thought, eager for more.

“what are you thinking about?" you asked, noticing his distant gaze and the growing bulge in his lap. he snapped back to reality, a smirk spreading across his face.

“nothing much” he lied smoothly.

[strayingawayy]

midnight melodies

...where a droopy eyed jisung lulls his crying baby girl to sleep

it was 3 am, and han jisung was starting to lose his grip on reality. in his arms, their newborn daughter was wailing at the top of her tiny lungs, and he, half-asleep, was desperate for anything to calm her down.

“okay... okay,” he muttered, bouncing her gently. “you’re just... hungry, right? yeah, that’s it.”

she screamed louder in protest.

“alright, alright,” he said, rocking back and forth. “no food. no bottle. what do you want, sweet girl?”

she stared up at him, her tiny fists clenched, as if mocking him.

jisung took a deep breath, glancing around the nursery like it held all the answers. he spotted her han quokka plushie on the shelf and grabbed it. “okay, quokka, let’s try you.”

he held it up to her, but she screamed even louder.

"aish. so you're rejecting daddy and daddy in animal form too huh?," he said with a tired laugh. "huh ...maybe something... softer."

his mind was a blur. but then, it hit him. a song. he could sing her to sleep. he was han jisung, after all. how hard could it be?

taking a deep breath, he started softly, his voice still a little hoarse from lack of sleep.

“you are my sunshine, my only sunshine…” he sang, his tone gentle and shaky and accent prominent but soft.

the baby hiccupped mid-cry and paused for a brief moment, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“you make me happy when skies are grey,” he continued, growing more confident.

her cries had slowed down, and her tiny hand reached up as if to feel the vibrations of his voice.

“you’ll never know dear, how much i love you...” jisung crooned, his voice growing softer as his exhaustion began to catch up to him.

the baby’s eyes fluttered, her little face calming.

jisung grinned, his sleepiness fading as he realized his voice was finally working. "see? told you i was a pro," he whispered to her, though he could barely keep his eyes open.

just then, you walked in, rubbing your eyes and stifling a yawn. "you’re still at it?" you asked, glancing at your daughter, who was now dozing peacefully in jisung’s arms.

jisung, eyes half-closed, smiled triumphantly. “i’m a lullaby legend, love .”

you raised an eyebrow. “uh-huh. you sure it wasn’t just that song?”

jisung blinked, the reality of the situation sinking in. “i mean... yeah. probably.”

you chuckled softly and, feeling the need for a quick snack, went to the kitchen. but when you returned a few minutes later, the sight you saw made you pause in the doorway.

there was jisung, curled up in the crib with their baby girl, both fast asleep. he’d somehow managed to fit himself in the small space, one arm around her, his head resting gently on the edge of the crib. his breathing was slow and peaceful, a contented smile on his face. the baby, snug in his arms, had the faintest of smiles on her face as well.

you stepped closer, careful not to wake them, and stood there for a moment, completely taken by the warmth of the scene. the man you loved, the one who had been so anxious earlier, was now completely at ease, his little girl in his arms as if they’d been doing this forever.

you couldn’t help but smile. "well, i guess you are her sunshine too, sweetheart," you whispered to yourself, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

you carefully adjusted the blanket over them and kissed both jisung and your daughter’s foreheads, your heart full of love. then, you whispered, "sleep tight, you two."

and as you left the room, the soft glow of the night and the gentle hum of peace filled the air, your little family finally at rest.

[dyingswanpavlova]

Treasure

Pairing: Hwang In-ho/The Frontman × Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Smut, Age Gap (Reader is 25, In-ho is 54), Usage of Daddy, Mentions of Emotional Abuse in the Past, Low Self-Esteem, Sex as a Business Deal, Edging, Spanking, Overstimulation, Face Slapping, Oral Sex (Both receiving), Gagging, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Minors do not interact!

Author's note: It's mostly bad experiences and smut. Anyone who knows me, knows I can't do wholesome...But, you guys, I'm trying!

It has been quite a while since his wife died and he hasn't gotten over it. But now he found someone who brings out a softer side of him...or makes him feel anything at all. Even if it's just the fact that he doesn't have to dine and sleep alone.

The day of her death was always the worst.

Of course he was always cold. One might even muster up the courage to call it cruel.

He was a complicated man in any sense of the word. While he was as cunning as he was handsome, he was also cool and composed. He didn’t ever lose that tight composure, until he allowed himself to. There were only few situations that allowed him to let loose and unleash the beast that lived within him.

It was rather obvious that there was more to him. The way he carried himself made it seem like he was no more than the stoic business man, but sometimes, sometimes you caught a soft glimpse of whatever was underneath. The way his eyes shone in a certain light.

 His brother was enough.

His wife, of course.

 But you were clever. And your sense of self-preservation forbade you to pry. All you had to do was do your job. And what was your job?

You found yourself applying a drop of perfume to your neck and your wrists, staring at your form in the mirror. The black lace covered most of your intimate parts, but it was just enough to leave him yearning for more. He liked that especially – when he had to use his imagination.

But sometimes, on rare occasions like that night, he needed more. He needed a little, naughty dream, to distract him from the turmoil that raged within him.

He was never cruel to you. He was just cold.

It wasn’t like you minded. So far, you had heard all kinds of things from a few friends of yours. Men could be vile creatures, who performed the most heinous crimes, whenever they felt like it. You were sure you could call yourself lucky, when it came to that.

He was older, that was out of question. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Not for you anyway.

You couldn’t tell when that started or what the exact reason was.

Your father had been a fairly good man. He never abused you and never hurt you out of the ordinary. The occasional session of spanking was something that stopped once you got older. Of course a child that steps out of line will get punished. It’s not that dramatic and you were sure, you took no damage after that.

He had been a kind man. Good-hearted. He loved you, your sister and your mother very much.

Until he got drunk.

Of course, he loved you then as well. And he never hit you then, either. Not you.

Your mother, sure. The poor, sweet woman she was. Her broken spirit cracked through the light in which her soul was covered, because she was strong like that. Gentle, but strong.

He wasn’t gentle when he drank. No, all you had to do was say the wrong thing at the wrong time and suddenly he’d explode. The way he yelled out of nowhere was the worst thing. The way he gritted his teeth like a wild animal.

You had flinched more than once during the course of your life, simply because he got so angry.

But after a while, he always calmed down, didn’t he? He came down from his demonic horror trip and suddenly, he was good again.

Of course he was proud. Too proud for anyone’s good. His pride often kept him from apologizing. In most cases, he’d just try and act like nothing changed, like nothing happened, like he didn’t just made the walls crumble with his anger.

But sometimes, when he went really overboard, he managed to swallow his pride and then he would apologize. A hug, a kiss, and everything was back to normal.

You forgave him. Why wouldn’t you? He was your father. He loved you.

But daddy issues? No. He was there, after all. He didn’t abuse you. Didn’t hit you.

You had no issues. Why would you?

Right?

You finished applying the perfume and decided to put on some lip balm. It held the faintest hint of rose-color. He didn’t like too much make-up. He didn’t like anything that felt like you were playing dress-up. The silk on your body, it only made sense if it highlighted your character in a way. Not change it.

The gloss on your lips, the blush on your cheeks. No eyeshadow allowed, unless it were natural colors. Mascara was alright, but no fake lashes.

Blush was okay, contour was not.

Lace was okay, leather was not.

J’adore was okay, Chanel Number 5 was not.

You released a slow breath and took a moment longer to check your appearance.

You were pretty, you knew that. Probably not in the way that made you get voted prom queen. More in the way that made weird men ogle you.

That was a talent of yours you had figured out at some point. Your eyes were expressive. And people loved to eye-fuck you.

Sometimes, you’d indulge. It depended on the man and the situation. It depended on the way his eyes on you made you feel.

Not any man would do. Some were perverts, some were disgusting, some desperate. You didn’t look back, when a man walked beside his oblivious wife and looked at you like he was ready to devour you. You also didn’t look back, when a man stared at you with wide eyes and licked his lip in a way that was too lecherous at once.

A subtle glance.

Not even a smile.

Just a look.

You’d look away and after a while, you’d check again. The feeling that spread in your chest was often the same. One of recognition, of attention. It made you feel pretty and desired. Someone wanted you. They were subtle about it, but not subtle enough to refrain themselves from staring.

In most cases, it didn’t lead to anything.

Sure, you had that messed-up phase, after you turned nineteen. Looking back, you really wished your father had been stricter with you. You were always allowed to do whatever you wanted. Meet who you want, do what you want, unless, of course, it got dark outside. No walking alone in the dark.

But he never checked who you were with, if you were truly where you said you were. Your parents trusted you. Back in the day, when you told them you had already finished your homework, they trusted you. Your bad grades weren’t their fault. They had trusted you to do better.

Back when you were nineteen, when you told them you were at the cinema with a few friends, they trusted you. They didn’t check, if maybe you were getting pounded away by some forty-seven year old man, who came on your face and left you feeling used and humiliated.

Never during. Always after.

You had no idea why you felt like you needed this so badly. Attention of men. Approval of men.

Men.

They were never good to you. They used you in most cases and then they’d just up and leave.

First, you were naïve. You pictured all kinds of things. Your mother’s Italian friend, who’d take you to Rome and buy you gelato. You’d walk some coast and he’d show you the lovely way Italians lived. He’d love you, you were sure.

It didn’t matter than he had a daughter your age or maybe even a few years older.

He’d love you.

But of course, he didn’t. Silly you, you really believed that, didn’t you? And he didn’t even say he would. You just made up that version of him in your head.

Some sweet guy from Oregon, who sang Arctic Monkeys song for you with his guitar. You only spoke online, but why care? You’d go and live the American dream with him. Of course you would. He had those soft, brown eyes and the voice of an angel.

You’d give him as many babies as he wanted.

So, of course you agreed, when he asked you to take your top off. Suck on your fingers, look up at the camera with doe eyes, while you did. You slipped two fingers inside yourself, moaning and gasping. Of course you were pretending. Who got off on this? Not you. All he did was stare at you. You didn’t see his face, while he pulled his pants down. It was either his face or the rest of him. But you were looking at him, while you touched yourself for him. It didn’t take him long to cum. But that was alright. You’d get married, after all. In some cases, long distance worked. This was one of them of course.

Blocked.

You spent months trying to find him again. But no way. He was gone, deleted, lost in the depths of the internet. A lost memory. A shameful one.

Sometimes you asked yourself, why your sister turned out normal. She had a job, a family, a husband who loved her. Or did he?

He did get angry, at times. And those few times when he called her a slut, when they argued. It wasn’t that bad, right?

That one time he left her standing at the sidewalk in the middle of the night, in a foreign city. It wasn’t that bad, right? She had angered him after all.

You felt nauseous, just thinking about it. Your sister was the epitome of life and liveliness. She was so spirited, that sometimes her anger scared you. Her confidence did for sure. She was your father’s daughter after all.

But the bastard she married broke that spirit.

And she didn’t even realize it. She just let it happen. You didn’t understand it.

But what you did understand was that she wasn’t as perfect as you always thought. Things were a little more complicated than you initially thought. But you were still far behind her.

You tried to push the thoughts of your messed-up existence and upbringing aside and focus on the task at hand.

Him.

Mr. Important.

You knew his real name and he knew yours, but names didn’t really matter. All you normally called him was daddy.

But luckily, you weren’t babygirl or little girl. That felt odd, even to you. It wasn’t that he was after that – someone who was remarkably younger than him. You just happened to be.

He was fifty-four, going fifty-five. You were twenty-five, going twenty-six.

Thirty years more or less, who cared about that?

And he didn’t really look his age. You found, he looked a good forty-six, maybe.

But aside from that, he was different. The were two kind of men in the world.

The real ones and the made up ones.

The ones who ogled you, while they were walking beside their wives and the ones who never got over their wife’s death and were looking for a way to distract themselves.

You had seen a picture of her. He didn’t make a secret of it. No, he was proud to having loved her. The thought filled you with something bittersweet. A part of you was jealous. Jealous, that someone got loved so intensely, that she’d never be forgotten, ever.

After all, she died young and pregnant. It made you nauseous.

And another part of you, the far bigger part, the less selfish part, it admired him.

He loved her. He loved her so dearly, that she took a great part of his soul with him, when she left.

God, you wished to be loved like that. To be loved at all.

You remembered the way you first met him. The subtle eye-contact. No smile.

But you didn’t feel like you normally did. Something about him was different. He wasn’t lecherous. He was calm. Almost like he was…lonely.

And he understood your loneliness.

The arrangement came quick and without any fuss. He did pay you, but not with money per say. He paid for your studies, he bought you gifts, sometimes he took you out to places you had never been before.

The theatre. The ballet. The opera, even.

That was what you loved the most. He didn’t just use you and left you feeling empty. He didn’t even fuck you every time you saw him. Sometimes you’d just go out. Have dinner. Talk.

You talked a lot and about everything. Sometimes you felt like you were an old soul, sometimes you felt like you knew nothing at all. He knew things. He looked at you. He listened to you.

Sometimes he could be really funny. On other nights he was rather quiet.

You didn’t care if he absentmindedly played with your hand or hair or if he stared straight ahead. Whatever he did, it always made your heart race.

You understood that you were treading on very thin ice.

Feelings were not a part of the arrangement.

He would never love you. You would never be more to him than treasure.

But when you lay there, your head on his chest and still breathless after you just spent hours doing the most wicked things to each other, you couldn’t help yourself. You craved his warmth. His arms around you and how protected he made you feel.

You couldn’t make a mistake. Nothing you did ever made him yell at you.

And that was rather dangerous.

Because you could picture it so easily. Being his wife. His everything. Having his children. Cooking his dinner. Doing all the things loving people did.

All the things loved people did.

You pushed the thought aside with intense fervor, when you heard his raspy voice call out for you.

“Treasure? Are you alright?”

You nearly gasped when you realized how long you had been in there. With a soft shake of your head and a slow exhale, you pushed down the door handle and stepped out of the bathroom. He stood in front of the fireplace and stared down at the flames, lost in thought. When he heard the door open, he looked up and met your gaze. Something in him stiffened for a moment and his gaze ran down your body slowly. You swallowed thickly and tried to push your nervousness aside.

You wanted to be perfect for him. But you were so far from perfect. Each and every time you feared he would look at you, scoff and shake his head.

“I don’t remember that much skin.”

“You looked younger last time.”

“Where’d that wrinkle come from?”

But of course he never said anything like that. Simply your insecurities, giving you a hard time.

He hummed softly and shifted so that he was fully facing you.

“You look beautiful.” He murmured. “Come here.”

You approached him with slow steps, the sound of your tiptoes the only sound beside the crackling of the fireplace.

You came to a halt before him and he tipped your chin up in a gentle way, slowly tilting your head up and making you look at him. He brushed his lips over yours in the softest way, making you shiver in response.

His hand slowly ran down the side of your neck, until his fingers brushed over the lace that covered your collarbone. His eyes followed the movement and he released a soft sigh.

“You get more and more beautiful every day.”

How did he expect you not to fall in love with him, when he was being like this?

“Thank you.” You whispered in return and swallowed a bit of your nervousness.

His eyes crinkled in a smile that hardly reached his eyes and his hands slowly came down to grip your hips.

“You know what day today is?”

You nodded.

“Good.” He whispered and dropped his hands to his sides. “Then be a good girl for daddy and distract him.”

You licked your lips and slowly pushed him back. He was letting you. Until you reached the armchair and he slowly sat down on it. You stood before him and tipped his chin up, making him look up at you now. The look in his eyes was nothing short of admiration. His breath against your skin sent a pleasant tingle down your spine.

You slowly straddled his lap and rested your knees on the armrests, pressing yourself against him and feeling the hardness in his pants press into you already. But not yet, you thought. Why not tease him a little?

You leaned in as if to kiss him, but the second before your lips met, you slowly pulled your head back, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

A low growl grumbled in his chest. “Stop being a brat.” He murmured.

You bit your lip and leaned back with a grin. “Me? A brat?”

“You’re just asking to be punished.”

That made you chuckle. “Well…”

“Oh, I see.” He tangled a hand in your hair and tugged on it, tilting your head back and making you look up at him. “That’s how you want to play?” He murmured and his hot breath fanned over your lips and neck. “Alright, then. I invented this game, little dove.”

He released his grip on your hair and grabbed you by the hips, standing up and holding you against him. He picked you up like you weighed nothing and strode off to the bed, practically throwing you down onto it. The sudden intensity left you breathless and you looked up at him with wide eyes. He reached for his tie and slowly undid it.

“I thought you were daddy’s good girl. Looks like I was wrong.”

He sounded as calm as ever, not a hint of anger as usual. He was just being himself.

“I am your good girl.”

“I’d prefer you to be bad right now. Because I feel like punishing you.”

You swallowed thickly and bit your lip, like you did every so often when he got you cornered like this.

“How?” You whispered.

He smirked in that delicious way, which lit his whole face up without even trying. Then he slowly pulled the tie off and ran his fingers along the soft material.

“Turn around.”

Within seconds, you were on your knees and facing away from him. His hands were gentle as he reached for your wrists and brought them behind your back to tie them together. You took a slow breath and closed your eyes, while your body surrendered. It wasn’t hard for you. You trusted him. He knew your boundaries.

For whatever reason, with him you had boundaries.

Never in your life before had you ever told anyone to stop or not do something. Was it fear of being rejected? Simply fear? Something else? Whatever it was, it kept you from setting healthy rules to keep your body and mind safe. You were free to use. Anyone just did whatever they wanted.

Sometimes you did protest, but they wouldn’t stop and eventually you gave in.

But not so him.

He had asked not once, not twice, but countless times. Until eventually you had been forced to be honest and tell him what it was that threw you off. And to your surprise, he didn’t get angry, didn’t even move a muscle. He just nodded and accepted it.

There were a few freaky things you were into and you were obviously allowing him to do. But if there was something that you didn’t want, he didn’t do it. Just like that.

How hard it was not to fall for him. Impossible even.

He tied your wrists together fairly tight and made a point of pulling on the tie to make sure it was good enough. You felt his gaze roam along your back silently. He then ran his fingertips up your back, over your shoulder blades and eventually the back of your neck.

“You’re my little brat, aren’t you?” He purred.

When you didn’t respond at first, he made a point of gently tugging on your hair.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“And you’ve been bad, haven’t you?”

When you nodded, he tugged again, slightly harder this time. You gasped and immediately added: “Yes. Yes, I’ve been bad.”

“So, you deserve to be punished. How should I punish you?”

There was only one right answer to that.

“However you wish.”

You heard the way he smirked. “Good girl. You’re learning.”

He hummed and slowly circled you like a predator. Of course you felt rather exposed, kneeling on the bed like that, wearing nothing but that thin piece of lace and nothing to cover the dampness between your legs.

“Look at you.” He murmured. “So open and ready for me. Let’s see how ready, shall we?”

He didn’t hesitate to slide his hand between your legs and run a finger over your wetness. You couldn’t help but inhale sharply. Your body was aching for his touch.

Surprisingly, he knew how to make you cum. Pretty good even. No other man had ever accomplished that. You’d normally count only on yourself for that, but Mr. Important? Fuck, he was skilled.

He circled your clit in the same skilled way, causing you to squirm and gasp under his touch. He began to work his fingers on you more and more quickly, keeping his gaze firmly on your face. Your brows furrowed in a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment, but you didn’t care. You were so close. So close. So-

You whimpered when he sharply withdrew his hand, leaving you aching.

“Please-“ You whined.

“Not yet.” He said calmly. “Open your mouth.”

You obeyed wordlessly, allowing him to slide his slick fingers into your mouth and making you taste yourself on him. The bulge in his pants became more and more obvious and it did things to you. The way he looked at you, while he made you suck on his fingers was enough to make you go dripping wet. After a beat, he slowly pulled his fingers back and dried them against his shirt. You let out a shuddering gasp.

“You still ought to be punished, if I recall correctly.”

“Wasn’t this punishment enough?” You whispered.

He smirked. “Not even close.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and gently draped you over his lap, stomach down and your rear up in the air. Your cheek was pressed against the sheets and you closed your eyes.

“Ten. You know the rules.” He murmured and you nodded.

His flat hand cracked against your skin, sending a sharp pain through your body. He wasn’t gentle about that. Not at all.

You cried out in pain and tried not to squirm too much. “One. Thank you, daddy.” You gasped out.

He hummed approvingly, before his hand came down a second time, causing you to wince and cry out again. Somehow, every strike seemed to get more and more rough. Your skin felt raw and sensitive, more and more with every hit, but you forced yourself to stay still and count, like a good girl. By the time you reached the seventh hit, the pain was nearly unbearable. But you knew better than to beg and plead. It only turned him on more and he was ready and eager to start anew.

“Nine. Thank you, daddy.”

“One more. Just one more, treasure. You’re almost done.”

He deliberately waited for a few seconds, causing you to go rigid and tense in his grip. The uncertainty of when the next hit would follow was nearly killing you. Just when you expected it and you winced forcefully, he instead ran his palm along your red skin gently. You took a deep breath.

And then it came.

The most painful of them all and you immediately felt tears sting your eyes. Your voice cracked as you cried out: “T-ten. Ten. Thank you. Thank you, daddy.”

He made a soft sound, filled with approval and a hint of pride. “That’s my good girl. You did so well. I’m proud of you.”

His words made you feel warm and fuzzy and suddenly you felt like crying even more. Your feelings for him were more complicated than you thought.

“Thank you.” You whispered, still trying to catch your breath.

“I think you deserve a reward.” He murmured.

You tried to swallow, with your mouth dry and whispered: “I do?”

He ran a gentle hand over your hair and hummed again.

“You do. Let’s see what we can do for you.” He shifted you gently so you lay on the mattress instead, staring up at him with red-rimmed eyes. He ran his knuckles over your cheek and smiled slowly.

“Was it too much?”

You shook your head.

He took a slow breath and nodded. “Good.” He shifted so he was on top of you now and pressed a leg between your own. His knee slowly pressed against your core and you felt your eyes fall shut. You didn’t try to hide your pathetic whimper.

He smirked against your ear and gently nipped at it. “Look at that. Have you been this wet all the time?”

Your face flushed painfully and you swallowed your embarrassment. “Yes.”

He hummed approvingly and ran his lips along your cheek, before they finally met your own. You had no time to understand what was going on, when his tongue already parted your lips and delved into your mouth. He wasn’t sweet about it, instead your tongues met in a messy battle, ready to prod at and devour each other.

“What are you?” He groaned against your lips.

“Your cumslut.” You whispered back.

He groaned again and bit down on your lower lip. “Fuck, yes, my dirty little cumslut. You want daddy’s cum, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy.” You moaned out.

“Where do you want it, treasure? Dripping down your chin or deep inside you?”

Your eyes nearly rolled back. “Wherever you want.”

He pulled back just enough to kiss your neck. His kisses made you squirm and shudder, but it only ever got more and more intense. You felt so exposed and helpless, but also cared for.

He slowly moved his lips along your collarbone, before they brushed over the material that covered your breasts. He bit down on it and tore at until you felt the cold air hit your now exposed chest. He growled in response and didn’t hesitate to kiss and suck at the skin of your breast. Your hips involuntarily arched against his knee, which was still working on your core. You gasped breathlessly and rubbed yourself against him, desperate for more friction.

“Please-“

“Patience.”

He licked a wet path down your stomach, causing you to writhe and moan.

He wasn’t one for half things. When his lips reached your core, he wasn’t gentle or careful. No, his mouth enveloped your most sensitive spot and he began to work his tongue on you almost furiously. He sucked and licked, slid his tongue inside you and over your wet folds with an intensity that made you cry out. He then sucked on your clit in a way that was almost too much, but just right to make you cum so good that you felt like everything around you faded into nothingness. You felt warm and good, better than you had ever before. He took his time and made the moment last, riding out your release so intensely that you nearly had to pull away from him when it became to much. He smirked up at you and slowly came back up to face you. He was fighting for air, as were you.

“Oh God, that was-“

He pushed his tongue back inside your mouth, nearly fucking it. At the same time he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them torturously and pumping them against you in a way that brought you close yet again.

“P-Please, I- Ah!” Your release rolled over you again, hard and soft at the same time, with an intensity that was near painful. Your hips arched off the bed and you nearly screamed by the way you couldn’t find it in you to shut your mouth.

You gasped for air and expected him to finally pull back, but he didn’t. He kept curling his fingers against your sweet spot and the feeling quickly became too much. Your body was so sensitive and every new touch he added felt almost painful.

“Stop- Please- St-“ You cried out and pressed your hips against his hand involuntarily. Your release came crashing yet again, this time it was a feeling between heaven and hell. It still felt good, but it felt far too much.

“Please.” You gasped, before the feeling even was gone. “Please. I can’t take any more…”

He smirked against your lips and gently bit down on the lower one, before he slowly withdrew his hand.

“Good girl.”

You were still panting and gasping for air, when he gave your cheek a light slap. “Time for you to get to work.”

You moaned, and with some effort, fought your way to get up. Your hands were still tied, so you carefully slid down to your knees, kneeling in between his legs. He was still in his pants, so you looked up at him with innocent eyes and whispered: “Can you help me?”

He smirked again and gently cupped your cheek in his hand. “So obedient.”

He freed himself from his remaining clothes and you found yourself staring at him. Despite his age, he was so well-built and you were always desperate for every glimpse, every touch and every taste.

“Can I?” You breathed out.

He hummed and nodded. “Get to it.”

Your gaze wandered down, but he quickly caught your chin. “Keep your eyes on me.”

Your insides tingled with newfound desire. You forced yourself to keep looking at him, while your tongue slowly slid down his stomach. You saw the shift in demeanor. He was still dominant and calm, but his breathing sped up and something changed in his eyes.

“No teasing today.” He all but growled. “Let me feel that pretty mouth.”

You didn’t hesitate to obey. You parted your lips and ran your tongue over his tip. His head fell and back and he groaned. He then tangled his hand in your hair and guided your movements. He didn’t give you time to catch your breath, he just pushed you down and forced you to take him in. You were caught off-guard for a moment and felt yourself gag. He loosened his grip the tiniest bit and you began to move in the rhythm and pace that he set for you. He quickly went from calm and collected to a beast which rammed his thick cock into you and began to use your throat to his pleasure.

You felt yourself grow wet yet again as you moaned against his skin. Whenever he seemed to hit the back of your throat, he couldn’t control the low moans and groans that left his lips. Your movements became more and more frantic, determined to make him feel just as good as he had you.

Of course you wanted him to fuck you and he probably would in an hour or two. And again and again and again…But right then, you wanted nothing more than for him to shoot his hot load into your mouth and down your throat.

You sucked and flicked your tongue against him in a way that made his grip tighten more and more until he-

He went still, except for his cock, which was throbbing furiously inside you. He came with a low growl and he filled your mouth with his seed. He held your head in place, until he rode out his release. When he finally caught his breath back, he released a soft sigh and his grip on your hair became gentle again.

“Oh God, that was…” He sighed again. “Fuck.”

You slowly swallowed every drop of his cum, all the while never taking your eyes off him. His eyes instantly darkened again and he ran his thumb over your tongue.

“My good girl. My treasure.” He breathed out. “I’m so proud of you.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch. It became increasingly gentle and he slowly cupped your cheek in his hand.

“That was incredible.” He murmured. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He reached behind you and carefully freed your from his tie. Then he slowly rubbed his thumbs over your sore wrists.

“Does it hurt?” He murmured. You shook your head.

He pulled you up onto the bed again and gently laid you down beside him. He stared down at you for a long moment, before he finally rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes.

“I don’t know about you, but I could use a full-course meal right now.”

You chuckled and wrapped your arms around him, slowly running your hands down his back. “Isn’t that what you just gave me?”

He smirked and slowly opened his eyes. “You and that wicked mouth of yours.” He murmured.

Your smile softened when he pressed a lingering kiss against your forehead.

“Can I stay for the night?”

He would most likely let you. He never sent you away feeling used or unsatisfied or, God forbid, unwanted. But there was a part of you that needed to be reassured so badly. And he seemed to know.

He raised a brow and his own expression softened.

“Did you expect anything else?”

His coldness melted away whenever you were like this, entangled and breathless.

No matter how many times he said that it didn’t mean anything.

His eyes told a different story.

“No.” You whispered softly and rested your head on his chest. “No, of course not.”

[fluidnet]

I was half asleep and thinking about all the stories like She’s The Man and Mulan (1999) where a woman dresses up like a man in order to do something ManlyTM and how they all inevitably fall in love with the masculinity of it all while still being women (or not, I guess, fiction is flexible and gender is more so)

and I went “give me a man who chooses to dress as a woman instead of resorting to violence. Give me a man who, in finding femininity and softness, can find himself. Give me a man who chooses kindness and love over war and aggression, but the only way he can do so is finding solace in the feminine. Not because femininity is inherently softer, but because society has told him as such. Give me a man who, through trial and error, finds himself learning to love the traditional women’s tasks he’s been clumsily attempting. Give me a man who could never truly fit in with other men, and the women around him protect him and love him unconditionally. Give me a man who cannot stand for himself at first, and then rises stronger together with the people who took him in”

And I realized that “give me a man who dresses as a woman in order to avoid going to war” is just. Achilles. And I want that classically animated movie now. I don’t even care if it’s sanitized like the Disney Renaissance Mulan or Hercules, in fact I’d enjoy that. I want Achilles to choose kindness and love and beauty over the war he never wanted to fight. I want a lighthearted, playful version of Achilles where there’s a happy ending. I know it’s a tragedy, but so were a lot of things that got animated at the time (not even Disney, Anastasia and Quest for Camelot come to mind as well) and I think he and Patroclus can have a happily ever after, too

I also want it to be gay, but I think that goes without saying

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

need more nanami and yapper gf!!!! Please please pleaseeeee

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ teddy’s notes: your wish is my command!!! this is based on a couple of scenarios from this post. enjoy!!

nanami looked like he had been through war.

his tie was loosened, his usually neat hair was slightly disheveled, and he carried the aura of a man who had exhausted every last ounce of patience.

he barely acknowledged you as he set his briefcase down, exhaling sharply as he shrugged off his coat.

you, of course, saw this as a perfect opportunity.

“darling,” you called from your place on the couch, voice dripping with false concern.

nanami sighed. “what.”

you turned to him with wide, sympathetic eyes. “who hurt you?”

he gave you a look. “the world.”

“tragic,” you sighed, patting the spot beside you. “come, sit. tell me all about it. i’ll be your emotional support animal.”

nanami stared at you for a long moment before slowly, exhaustedly, sinking onto the couch beside you.

he leaned his head back against the cushions, closing his eyes. “long day.”

“i knew it,” you said, crossing your arms. “i could feel the tragic main character energy radiating off you the moment you walked in.”

nanami didn’t even open his eyes. “don’t start.”

“don’t start?” you echoed, scandalized. “nanami kento, have we met?”

he sighed again, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

you saw the cracks forming.

so you leaned in, lowering your voice dramatically. “he’s struggling. he pinches the bridge of his nose, a man burdened by the weight of responsibility. his jaw tightens. his shoulders are stiff. but through it all—he remains strong.”

nanami’s eyes finally opened, just so he could give you the flattest look imaginable.

“he sighs,” you continued, undeterred, “a sound so deep, so weary, it could shake the heavens. he suffers in silence—”

“i am not suffering,” nanami interrupted, voice heavy with exhaustion.

you gasped. “oh, but you are. a tortured soul, caught in the throes of capitalism and incompetence—”

“i regret coming home.”

“no, you don’t,” you said smugly, flopping against his side.

nanami exhaled as you rested your head against his shoulder. despite his complaints, he didn’t move away.

you tilted your head up to look at him, eyes twinkling with mischief. “oh? what’s this? a moment of vulnerability? has the brooding sorcerer finally let down his walls?”

he shut his eyes again. “i am begging you to stop narrating my life.”

“never,” you said firmly.

nanami groaned, but there was no stopping you now.

“and yet,” you whispered dramatically, “despite all odds… despite his desperate pleas for peace… he allows the menace to stay.”

“no choice,” he muttered. “you’d just break in if I locked the door.”

“he knows me well,” you agreed. “and, deep down, perhaps… he even likes it.”

nanami huffed.

but it wasn’t his usual exhausted sigh. it was softer. lighter.

you grinned.

“oh?” you gasped. “was that—”

“no,” nanami said immediately.

“it was. it was a laugh. a chuckle, even!” you sat up, turning to face him fully. “i’ve done it. i’ve cracked the code!”

nanami opened one eye. “do you ever run out of energy?”

“nope,” you said, popping the ‘p.’ “and lucky for you, i’m here to restore yours.”

before he could respond, you swung a leg over his lap, straddling him. nanami blinked up at you, looking both unimpressed and amused.

“ah,” he said dryly, hands settling on your hips. “so this is your great cure for exhaustion.”

“it’s part one,” you said, reaching up to smooth your fingers through his hair.

he hummed, closing his eyes for a brief moment as you massaged his scalp.

“and part two?” he asked, voice lower now.

you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

“this,” you murmured, trailing kisses along his cheek, down to his jaw.

nanami let out a slow breath, his grip on your hips tightening just slightly.

“mm,” he hummed. “better than your usual nonsense.”

“excuse me,” you scoffed, pulling back to glare at him. “my nonsense is the reason you’re feeling better right now.”

he tilted his head, considering. “debatable.”

you gasped.

“how dare you.”

nanami smirked, tilting his head back against the couch, waiting for your inevitable response.

you narrowed your eyes, then grabbed his face with both hands and smushed his cheeks together.

“take it back,” you demanded.

he made a noise of protest, voice muffled by your hands.

“what was that? didn’t quite catch it,” you said, grinning.

nanami exhaled sharply through his nose. then, without warning, he grabbed your wrists, flipped you onto the couch, and pinned you beneath him in one smooth motion.

you blinked up at him, momentarily stunned.

“you were saying?” nanami asked, leaning down so his nose brushed yours.

“um,” you squeaked. “hello.”

his lips twitched. “hello.”

you cleared your throat, regaining your composure. “so, what i meant was—”

nanami kissed you before you could finish.

it was slow, lingering—his lips warm and steady against yours.

when he pulled back, his thumb brushed along your cheek. “thank you,” he murmured.

you blinked. “for what?”

“for making me laugh,” he admitted. “for making me feel… lighter.”

your chest ached at how soft he sounded.

so, naturally, you ruined the moment.

“so you do admit my nonsense is good for you.”

nanami sighed. “i should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

“too late,” you said smugly, wrapping your arms around his neck. “now come back here and kiss me again, grumpy man.”

nanami huffed. “menace.”

but he kissed you anyway.

[bunny-jpeg]

puppy hybrid!simon (18+)

inspirations taken from this post

price had to go away for a little while, which was hard to tell his favourite puppy! he had only recently taken you in and it was hard for him to leave you behind. you were all mopey and sad eyes a week before he left. originally he was going to have you stay at a hybrid daycare for the duration of his time away.

but johnny had another idea! he said that he'd watch you! he joked that if he could handle the mutt hybrid he called simon, he could handle a purebred like you. with your floppy ears and cute tail!

you were so well behaved and price was so proud of you. he made sure anything you needed was packed up for your little "trip" to visit johnny and simon.

johnny wasn't as good of a owner as he propositioned to price. he went out to the bar with kyle for an evening, which left price's pretty (expensive) puppy with the bully mixed mutt that was simon.

didn't take long for the much larger hybrid to almost tear off your cute little clothes and just fuck you. he had his arm around your middle as he pushed his cock as far as it could go. he knew he was hitting up against your cervix.

he chuckled, "gonna make a new breed of puppy with you." his voice was low and grumbled, it made you soaked between your legs as he stretched out your poor little cunt.

when you thought that he was done, he enjoyed when you'd scamper off to go pee or get some water. it only encouraged him to sniff out his mate, as if the trail of his cum leaking down your leg didn't make it easy enough.

he made a face when he saw the trail, it should be in you, little pup! not all over the hardwood floor! eventually he had you over the couch, behind the kitchen island, in the bathroom and finally in simon's bed where he could smother your purebred scent with his.

johnny knew he was fucked when he came home the next morning and found you naked under a partially clothed simon. your belly a bit swollen from the gallons of hybrid cum stuffed in there.

"price, i'm so sorry. i didn't know, i thought he was well behaved!" johnny looked pale when price came home to get you.

you were curled up in simon's arms in the doggy bed. gone were the cute pink bows and little outfits, you were swimming in simon's cheap black t-shirt with a motorcycle on it. but even price could see the slight slope in your belly.

"but, price!" you whined when your owner tried to pull you away from the mutt, as last ditch effort to save you. you kicked out your little legs, "i love him."

the older man sighed. spoiled little puppy. he ended up taking in simon too, he saw how anxious you were without your mate. johnny promised the dog hybrid to visit often but simon was too busy snuggled up with his new missuses (sorry johnny!). now price has two hybrids to take care of plus whatever was slumbering in your belly.

you were still price's little puppy, even if your attention was split between owner and mate. when you ate at the table to eat, you'd give simon a light smack on the hand if he was eating like a prisoner. you pouted your lips and shook your head.

simon sighed and took you by the head to kiss one of your soft ears, "sorry, love." at least price didn't have to train the mutt, you were doing the hard work for him.

simon followed you like a shadow, protective of his mate. and even the home you inhabited. you'd often lie on the doggy bed with simon behind you, large hand on your swollen middle and his lips at the back of your neck. but the mutt wasn't fully house trained. there had been a few times that price would be watching the football game and he could hear the whines of his beloved puppy, only to look over and see simon just pinning you down and rutting against you.

"bad dog." price grumbled as he tried to grab simon by the collar, "she's already pregnant, you animal!"

but price had to admit, you were rather cute all pregnant. if anything your floppy ears only got softer, your smile on wider. price had just wished you picked a mate of a higher caliber.

he wouldn't mind puppies, but you were of a softer breed. you shouldn't have ended up with a bully of a dog. but price had to (begrudgingly) admit, it was nice to know when he went out that there was guard dog in the house.

that didn't mean he was the biggest fan of simon.

"get off of her, simon." price rolled up the newspaper to wack the mutt hybrid, "she's got no room in her for that. she's already swimming in puppies!"

simon growled and just fucked between your thighs until he made a mess of himself. the older man looked at the hybrid and the hybrid looked back in defiance.

you on the other hand were sound asleep on the doggy bed, covered in simon's cum. even that stretch marked lined belly was too.

price was only in his late thirties, he thought he was a little young to be a grandfather figure to the rowdy puppies that you give birth to. all with your beautiful eyes but the personality and points ears of their father.

"i need another drink."

[kooberryfields4ever]

lucky

hello !!!!!!! was not expecting this to get as long as it did nor did i expect the turn but what can i say i am a creature driven by self satisfaction……… :( anyways originally this was gonna be like a 1k max drabble bc i rewatched jks sleepy eepy sweetie live and he was twitching and looked so pretty that i HAD to write something domestic !!!! but i am an ANIMAL and thinking about jungkook sleepy in the morning made me feral😇 hope u enjoy!!!!!!!!

wc: 2500+

content warnings : fluff & smut below the cut, light nipple play, fingering, jungkook has a cute panty kink(?), jungkook is an unstoppable force, unprotected piv sex, gendered terms (the word “girl” is used & detailed desc of female anatomy), messy orgasm

MDNI !

You’ve been awake for ten minutes now, just watching Jungkook twitch in his slumber. It’s early morning – a little after 8:00AM – and he looks so unbelievably beautiful under the gentle sunlight flittering through the blinds. With a soft smile on your lips, your eyes trail over his eyebrows, paying attention to how they raise and drop in his unconsciousness, moving down to his relaxed jaw and the divots of his shoulder blades when your gaze lowers. The gentle rise and fall of his back as he breathes and the fist that keeps clenching and unclenching while you lay beside him makes your smile widen. Jungkook is a breath-taking sight, looking so at peace while you observe him. His muscles are softer in their unflexed state and you can’t help it when your finger finds his right triceps and paints shapes over it. His tattoos are next on your list of targets, and soon your wandering finger is tracing the inked motifs like you’re re-carving them into his skin, following the lines and curves of the patterns as if they were new to you.  

They are very much not new to you, though. You think you’ve studied them over a hundred times, committed them to memory, made them so indelible in your mind that you’re sure you could redraw them perfectly if he ever asked. You chance at moving your touch to his fingers, watching his face amusedly when you lift his hand to inspect them and he furrows his brow. The soft letters adorning the bones of his joints are met with the pad of your thumb as you stroke them adoringly, fighting the desperate urge to kiss his calloused palm when the tips of your fingers press against the rough skin. Your fingers don’t get to explore for long before he opens a single eye suspiciously, curling his fingers around your hand to stop you. 

“Good morning,” his voice is deeper, sluggish, yet gentle still through the rasp. “You having fun?” 

“I was,” you smirk, intertwining your fingers with his instinctually, “until you so rudely interrupted me.” His thumb rubs your knuckles sleepily, bringing them to his lips for a chaste kiss, turning onto his back, pulling you closer to his chest and tucking his other hand behind his head. 

“Mm, my bad.” Comes his short reply, blinking his eyes open once again to find yours. His fingers card through your hair when you sit up on your elbows, leaning against his solid frame. His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip while you allow yourself to continue observing him from above now that he’s awake.  

“Do you know you twitch a lot in your sleep?” You ask, reaching over to rub some sleep from the corner of his eye. Your thumb runs over his cheek, then down to his lower lip, dragging it down playfully and watching it bounce back when you let go abruptly. He shakes his head slightly to answer your question but sits quietly, content to just let you fiddle, fondly mirroring the smile you offer him when you lean forward to press your foreheads together. “I should’ve filmed it. You almost knocked me out.” 

“Instead of leaving me in peace?” He quirks a brow, tilting his head back to press a kiss to your lips quickly before lowering it again. “I don’t think I’m capable of hurting you, even if I’m unconscious. It’s written out of my biological code.”  

You giggle, shaking your head. “As if I would’ve let you anyway, we both know I'd win in a fight.” 

Your lips chase his naturally, and he hums sweetly when you connect them again, smirking. “Is that a challenge?” He mumbles into your mouth, you feel his hands snake around your waist, pulling you closer still before flipping you onto your back effortlessly. He continues kissing you like that. 

“Because I really beg to differ,” he ruses, trailing a hand down to the back of your thigh to hold your leg up against his hip. “Think I’d win in a heartbeat.” Another kiss. “How easy was it for me to get you like this?” His hips move against yours in a slow motion, making you very aware of a growing presence between his legs as it presses against you through all your layers of clothing. 

“You play dirty, that’s why,” you joke back, pushing your palm against his forehead. He moves away from your lips to attach his mouth to your neck, kissing down to your collarbone delicately, the same way your fingers did to him minutes ago. “Caught me off guard, that’s- that’s not fair,” the small moan that leaves you after your stutter is unintentional. Curse Jungkook and how easily your body gives in to his ministrations. You loathe the way he seems to revel in it too, snickering when he moves his hips again. 

You lean your head back against the pillows when he pushes your tank top up over your tits and you can feel his lips enclose around your nipple. It’s not a fair fight, Jungkook knows that. Knows that when his teeth brush against the darker flesh it’ll pebble against his tongue. Knows that when his hands slip down past your waist and hips, your legs will spread instinctually for him. Knows that when your fingers tangle in his hair, he’s got you.  

“Could die between your tits,” His muffled voice knocks you out of your pleasured trance, and you hum in acknowledgement. He’s resting his face between your breasts rather lovingly now, kissing the skin between them with a hand on your waist. The hand tangled in his hair falls to his nape, scratching at the baby hairs grown out from his last haircut.  

“I wouldn’t encourage you to.” 

“Couldn’t be the worst fate.” 

His response has you rolling your eyes, “No, a worse fate would be me beating you to a pulp because you thought you’d win in a wrestling match against me.” He chuckles, looking up at you and resting his chin on your chest with a soft pout. 

“Seemed to like my approach a second ago,” he murmurs, crawling back up your body to kiss you again. There’s no underlying motive behind it, he just really likes your lips on his. You give in because, despite your argumentative nature, you like his lips too. He kisses you lazily, knee slotted between your legs, half-heartedly holding his body up to stop himself from leaning all of his weight on you. Your arms drape naturally over his shoulders and around his neck to keep him there, and you can feel his smile against your lips. 

“You still hard?” His only response is the subtle grind of his hips against yours in affirmation and a slight lowering of his hand on your waist, on a slow but steady mission. 

“Should I be offended that you don’t seem to be doing anything about it?” 

“Gettin’ to it, jus’ let me kiss you.” He licks into your mouth sweetly, chasing the taste of you. Tries to pull you impossibly closer when you chuckle, spurring him on even more. He bites your lower lip, his wandering hand finally slipping past the waistband of your pyjama pants and brushing over your underwear. You can feel him smirk when he finds the small bow on the front, parting from your lips to slip your pants down to get a good look at them. They’re childish, pink and polka dotted and old; you’ve had them since before you and Jungkook even started dating but hardly wear them anymore. 

“Cute.” Is all he says, and you roll your eyes before reaching down to pull them off. He grabs your wrists, meeting your eyes sternly. “Keep ‘em on.” 

You slip your hands from his grasp, nodding hesitantly but obediently. You watch him curiously when he focuses his entire attention on your clothed pussy, entranced by it, pressing his fingers against the damp fabric to watch it cling to the shape of you, darkening with your arousal. 

“Fuck, they’re so cute, baby,” he babbles, not really even speaking directly to you, just thinking out loud, “can I fuck you with them on?” He asks sweetly, kissing your chest and keeping an eye on you as he waits for your answer. You nod, combing your fingers through his hair when he peppers more kisses across your tits as a thank you. He pushes the fabric aside slightly to gain access to your pussy with no restrictions, not hesitating to sink his middle and index fingers past your opening. He knows you’re wet enough, preening when he hears your breaths turn to soft moans. He’s so familiar with your body now that curling his fingers up against your g-spot is second nature to him. You encourage him wordlessly, watching him work while his head still rests on your chest.  

He knows you, so when you start to tighten around him and your moans turn into held breaths, he withdraws from you. You go to protest, furrowing your brow annoyedly, but he shushes you.  

“Gonna have you come on my dick, baby.” There’s a brief pause while he separates from you to push his boxers down and take your pyjamas bottoms fully off too, grunting when he strokes himself languidly above you before rubbing his tip between your dripping folds, still fascinated by the panties he made you keep on. 

“So pretty,” he coos, and for lack of better judgement, you nod. “So fuckin’ wet, love when you get like this for me. All for me.” He’s egging you on, coating himself in your arousal and pressing his forehead to yours when he sinks the mushroom tip of his cock past your opening. It’s calculated and slow, you think it’s to tease you, to prolong your frustration even longer; truthfully, it’s because Jungkook is embarrassingly close and wants to make himself last as long as he can. 

“You wore these the first time I fucked you,” he admits, sinking deeper into your walls and breathing against your lips, “all I could think about for the rest of that week was getting to fuck you again, you were so perfect.” He pulls out slowly, before pushing back in, deeper this time. You let out a half-moan, half-breath, and he repeats until he’s fully seated inside of you. 

“Wanted to fuck you with them on then, too, thought they were so cute.” 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“Thought it was pervy, thinking your panties were cute and wanting to keep them on,” he chuckles, kissing you gently and quickening the pace of his hips to fuck you faster, “think you would’ve thought I was a creep, wouldn’t have let me. Was easier to make you think I just wanted to take my time undressing you.” 

“You’re right, I wouldn’t have.” 

“Mm, you’re well trained now.” 

His words get him a slap at the back of his head, and he laughs with you. The amusement doesn’t last long however, and soon he’s hiding his face in your shoulder to piston his cock in and out of you. You curse under your breath, letting him grip your thigh to guide your knee to your chest, wanting to fuck you deeper. He tuts, frustrated at the fact that he can’t get as deep as he wants, and soon your knees are over his shoulders with his hands holding your hips while he fucks you vigorously. He’s grunting animalistically, his tip prodding your cervix over and over, the corona of his cock rubbing deliciously against your g-spot every time he pulls back.  

“Touch yourself.” He instructs from your shoulder. It’s gentle, you know he doesn’t mean to come across as commanding but you like it anyway. You’re quick to obey, of course, and soon you’re trailing a hand down to your own pussy to start rubbing at your clit. He wants you to finish, that much is apparent, and you assume it’s because he’s trying to hold off his own orgasm for you. It’s wordless between you when you feel the familiar band in your stomach begin to tighten, and your free hand wanders across his broad back, digging your fingernails into his shoulder blades in such a contrasting way to how you were so gentle only ten minutes ago. He grunts, knows you’re close because you’re clenching around him and he can feel you holding your breath. He kisses your collarbone as silent encouragement, and a few more strokes has you coming undone around him, finally releasing your breath and pulsing around him in a way that has you nearly pushing him out. 

“Gonna come, where you want it?” He asks quietly, knows your answer but wants to hear it. You always want it inside, and Jungkook is always more than happy to oblige. 

“On my panties.” Comes your surprising reply, and Jungkook’s pupils dilate to proportions you didn’t think were physically possible. He stops moving, dropping his grip on your hips to brace his hands against the sides of your head and hold himself up above you.  

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” he jokes, dipping down to kiss you fervently, picking up the pace of his hips again, “you’re so fucking perfect, you want me to come all over your panties, baby? Want me to make a mess?” 

You’re not stupid, you know as much as the next girl that if there’s anything a man likes more than coming inside, it’s staking his claim. Of course, semen washes off - but the thought of Jungkook painting your panties white even makes your stomach flip. You nod, and he doesn’t need any more persuasion before he pulls out of you and sits up in order to stroke himself, a singular goal in mind. Your panties are still tucked to the side so he can see all of you as his fist pumps his cock quickly. You observe him, his cock is still wet from your arousal and his tip is so swollen and red that you’re unsure how he lasted even this long. As expected, he doesn’t last very long, and soon thick white ropes of come are shooting from his tip and coating your pussy and the fabric of your panties. He’s shuddering, curling over on himself before collapsing beside you on the bed. 

“C’mere,” he pants out, slipping his arms around your middle and pulling you toward him, “this was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” 

“Really wasn’t, I was doting on you.” 

“Feeling me up is ‘doting’ now?” 

You push him away playfully, but he keeps his grip on you, laughing when you turn around to get away from him. He pulls you back towards him and spoons you.  

“I was being cute and you made it pervy, like always.” He can hear the pout in your voice, so he mumbles something in agreement. Knows there’s no winning here when he just came all over your panties like some kind of neanderthal. He rubs his hand over your belly, kissing your shoulder blade affectionately to keep you close. Your own hands cover his, intertwining your fingers once again and snuggling sweetly into him. 

a/n 🗒️ as always tysm for reading !!! if u have anything to say pls do i love to hear from ppl and reflecting on criticism is my driving force 💆‍♀️ reqs/asks are open !!!!

[maiamore]

LUCKY YOU

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader - No Outbreak

Rating: 18+ | W/C: 2.7k

Summary: Joel tries to read his book instead of giving his wife attention on his honeymoon.

Or, Joel fucks his wife at the beach.

Tags: husband!joel, public indecency, sex on the beach, established relationship, outdoor sex, p in v sex, accidental creampie,honeymoon vibes,able bodied reader, implied age gap, slight coercing(?) reader just wants her husband to fuck her on her honeymoon smfh, use of pet names, pussy pronouns, one use of the word daddy A/N: i don't even have to explain what conjured this, beach pedro y'all, i enjoyed writing this SO MUCH

Edit: this song, Image - Magdalena Bay suits this fic perfectly in my head arghh MASTERLIST

It wasn’t easy getting a man like Joel Miller to relax. 

Every goddamn chance he got, he’d find a way to keep busy–mind or body. Whether it was fixing the creaky cabinet door or patching up the leaky air-conditioning unit that the landlord swore they'd call someone for. Joel thrived on activity, claiming it "kept the bad thoughts away." Whatever those bad thoughts were, you weren’t sure, but you suspected they’d always be lurking at the edges.

Even now, with the tropical sun bathing both of you in its’ lazy warmth and the lull of crystal blue waves breaking the shore, Joel had insisted on unwinding by reading, of all things. 

Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead.

Given, it was a good read, you’d insisted for him to give it a try. And you’d enjoyed it—a book that had you question societal norms, ethical implications of how humanity treated animals and the environment through the eyes of Janina Duszejko.

Could you really be upset at your husband keeping his mind occupied with a good book? 

Oh, you could. And you would. Considering this was your honeymoon.

Three blissful, chaotic years of marriage had finally led you both here. A getaway, tucked in a small Caribbean resort. You both managed to rub every damned spare penny together and finally found yourselves living a much needed pleasure. 

You spent your mornings indulging in piña coladas and your afternoons barefoot on powder soft sand with cool foam kissing your ankles. Taking in the salty ocean air.

To Joel’s credit, you were finally getting to see a side of him you weren’t able to in your entirety of knowing him. 

The deep creases of his brows had disappeared, replaced by something softer, easier. The only lines on his face now were the crows feet that appeared in his relaxed laughter. Work and responsibility kept him on his feet back in Austin. But here? With Tommy stepping up to manage Miller’s Construction, Joel had let himself breathe.

A man unburdened. Lord knows he’d deserved it. Though it was a double edged sword.

You’d never found your husband sexier than ever in his relaxed state and your libido was through the fucking roof.

If his hand wasn’t resting on the small of your back, it was tangled in yours, his thumb brushing lazy circles into your palm. And when it wasn’t there? It was on your thigh beneath the dinner table, his fingers tracing the outline of your knee absentmindedly.

You found yourself stealing glances at him.

In complete awe at the man who could quite literally wrestle a washing machine up three flights of stairs without breaking a sweat—look so utterly peaceful, sprawled on the sun lounger. With sand clinging to his calves and a vibrant blue book spread open within his thumb and forefingers. 

Good fucking god. His hands.

Your palm crinkled around the sweet peach seltzer that you pulled from the mini cooler, desperate to quench the growing thirst. The fizz popped against your lips as Joel glanced up from his book, offering you a smile with the soft shadow you brought with you. An angel you were, he thought. 

He adjusted just enough to plant a kiss on your cheek, his scruff tickling your skin. A grin spread across your face and you leaned in to steal a proper kiss, only for him to swerve to give the book his attention.

“Enjoying your honeymoon with the book?” You snark, flopping onto the soft white cushion beside him. Unpacking the essentials you’d lugged out here.

“Don’t be dramatic, darlin’. S’a good book.” He remarks, voice slow and warm, like honey dripping from its dipper. He doesn’t lift his gaze to look at you. Though his palm comes up to knead around your waist in a half assed attempt to acknowledge your existence.

You huffed, sinking into the lounger. The deep blues of your bikini catching in the sunlight. Joel’s gaze flicked up for a moment and you caught the way his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, like he was trying to play it cool. 

He snorted suddenly. “You tryin’ to be the book, hopin’ I’ll look atcha’ more?”

You paused, squinting at him before glancing down at your bikini and then the book cover. Damn it. They were the same shade of blue. A groan left you as you grabbed the sunscreen and tossed it his way.

“Don’t start. It’s a coincidence, Miller.”

He catches the bottle one handed, setting his book aside. You notice him eyeing you again as you turn to present your back. This surely would rile him up just a little and finally get his attention, wouldn’t it?

The untied straps of your bikini dangled and you give him a pointed look over your shoulder.

“Well?”

“Aight, Mrs Miller. C’mere.”

He muttered a curse underneath his breath, squeezing a dollop of sunscreen into his palm. He worked the lotion over your shoulders and down your back, his calloused hands moving slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second. The curve of your waist–down to the dip of your spine, it was all too much.

“You sure this ain’t part of your plan?” he begins, his voice low, a little strained now.

“What plan?” you tossed over your shoulder, feigning innocence.

“Mmhmm. You’re real sneaky, y’know that?”

You smirked, closing your eyes as his hands smoothed over your skin. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He lets out a frustrated little breath, planting a chaste kiss on the back of your shoulder like it might ground him. His hands lingered for just a second too long on the gentle curve of your waist before he pulls away, clearing his throat and settling back into his lounger.

Joel was still a red-blooded man. How the hell was he supposed to keep his head straight when his wife looked like that, all soft and pretty, perched right there like she didn’t know the power she had over him?

Without another word, Joel busies himself with fiddling the pages. Trying real hard to convince himself he hadn’t just lost that round. But the way his thumb taps restless against the edge of the book gave him away.

You knew going into this relationship that being a man almost a decade older than you would entail a quieter life. 

Joel’s age had never been an issue. Not when he could still work circles around men half his years and definitely not in bed. No, he had no need for the blue pill, thank you very much. But times like this? Times when you’d laid yourself out like a fucking michelin star dessert and he couldn’t be bothered to take so much as a bite? 

That was fucked.

You lift your shades to perch on your head, glancing around the beach. It was almost empty, just a few scattered umbrellas and the rhythmic sound of waves breaking against the shore. Yet here he was, sunk deep into his book. The golden rays danced along his tanned skin, kissing the flecks of gray in his beard like he was a goddamn painting.

Your teeth catches your bottom lips before you finally decide to make a move. With a casual shift, you scooted snug next to him, thigh hooking around his underneath your paisley blue and white blanket. Your fingers drift to rest over his, twisting the cool silver of his wedding band.

Joel doesn’t look up right away but he gives a soft grunt of acknowledgement. Tugging you closer with a firm hand on your waist. He leans in to press a kiss just below your ear, the scrape of his beard sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

“Somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart?” he murmurs.

“Oh, not much,” you replied, glancing pointedly at his book. “Just wondering if it’s one of those magic books from Harry Potter that sprouts new pages.”

He smirks, finally tilting his head to look at you, eyes full of that slow, teasing mischief. “Maybe it’s ‘cause someone keeps tryin’ to distract me.”

You gasped, hand flying to your chest like you were scandalized. “Me? I’d never.”

“Uh huh,” he hums, clearly unconvinced.

You swat at his arm playfully but he catches your wrist, pulling you in for a deep kiss. It wasn't a chaste one this time. His lips locked with yours, slow, attentive. The taste of piña colada lingered on his tongue, mingling with the faint tang of sea salt from his earlier dip in the ocean. Your hands drift to the strings of his red swimsuit, sliding lower down the middle. 

That makes him pull away. Looking at you half-lidded, though he doesn’t quite move your hand. 

“You tryin’ to get us arrested, baby girl?”

“There’s no one around, Joel.” 

You offer as you lean in to kiss him again. You feel him hesitate, rightfully so. Maybe it was the drinks you’d pumped into your systems earlier, but Joel doesn’t push you away this time. His rough palm comes to wrap around the back of your neck, drawing the sweetness of peaches from the seltzer from your tongue into his. 

“Gotta make it quick, then.” He murmurs into your lips as you feel him guide you onto his lap. To your delight, your husband was already rock fucking hard for you. 

He lets out a drawn out sigh as you rock your hips onto his erection, his palm steady behind you to encourage your movements. He couldn’t have been any harder now. “Lookin’ like fuckin’ sin.” His thumb swipes up to the gusset of your bikini bottoms. 

“What’re you trying to do t’me?” 

You smile against his lips. “Finally noticing your poor neglected wife?” You flip your hair to the other side of your shoulders to nip at his ear lobe. He tenses at that, grabbing your jaw with a rough hold. 

“Had to, baby. Else we’d be spendin’ this entire vacation with my cock stuffed in this needy fuckin’ pussy.” 

You shudder at the want in his voice. You attempt to reply but a thumb slips into your parted lips, two fingers coaxing the drool out. 

You let out a soft uunff as Joel pulls out his fingers with a string of your saliva following. “Gross. Supergoop tastes like shit.” 

“Yeah well, didn’t give me much time to get all cleaned up for you now did ya?”

He grins at your little complaints about the taste of sunscreen on his fingers. You were quickly shut up by the sensation of his split slick fingers nudging into your pussy. 

You groan out. Hips jumping as he probes into you gently. You catch the flutter of your beach blanket in your peripheral, watching as Joel covers both of you–as well as it could've from the bottom down. 

“Don’t think that’s gonna do shi—hhhhiitt.” Your words slurrs at Joel’s steadily thrusts into your pussy. Your hands come to rest on his shoulders. “God. Baby that’s so—…so good..” You manage, words barely a whisper.

Joel leans in to pepper kisses up your jaw. “I know. Practically suckin’ my fingers in.” He mumbles against your neck, fingers squelching deeper into your walls, caressing it in a repeated motion. His thumb swipes against your throbbing clit simultaneously. 

“So fuckin’ warm n’ soft. She’s gonna milk my cock dry.” He mutters, more so to himself. 

A sharp shiver creeps down your spine. “J-Joel—…i’mclose—…shit i’msosoclose—“ You mutter incoherently. Your hips rising a little to Joel’s persistent finger-fucking. 

He hums against your shoulder. Other hand, keeping your hips down firm, making sure you felt the full bearing of his two fingers thrusting in and out of your pussy. “Give it t’me.”

Your eyes roll back in pure fucking ecstasy within a matter of seconds. Hips attempting to squirm away from Joel’s fingers. He kisses your cheeks softly. 

“Good fucking girl.”

You let out a fucked out giggle. Suckling at his jaw and down his neck. Joel doesn’t give you much of a cool down, evident in the way he’d already been sliding his pre-cum soaked cock out of his swim trunks, nudging the tip against your sticky folds.

His thumb pushes aside the gusset of your bikini bottoms further, watching your slick bubble around the soaked fabric. 

“Lookit’, all ready to fuckin’ go.” He grins. With a quick glance around to check for the soul of another, he fully sheathes himself into you. 

He groans out and earns a pathetic whimper from you at the motion. Joel tips his head back against the lounger. Almost seizing up at how your tight pussy strangles his cock. 

“Oh, god!” 

“Ain’t god, sugar. All me.” 

He chuckles at the way you shoot him a warning look, though it held no bite. Joel wraps his arm around your hips to piston himself into your pussy. 

The sounds of your cunt squelching as you slam down onto his pelvis spurs you on even further as you ride him. Joel looks up. Letting out a sssst as though he’d been burned at the sight of your tits bouncing before him like a goddamned porn star. 

“Right outta Hustler issue cover, baby girl.” 

“Lucky you.” You laugh a little. Head tipped back to keep up your momentum, rocking your hips to his periodic grinds. You wince as your hair sticks to the back of your shoulders uncomfortably. The prick of overstimulation long gone at the glint of Joel’s gaze on you. 

You feel the strings at the back of your bikini unravel at Joel’s gentle tug, allowing your bikini top to shift just enough for your tits to spill out. 

Joel gathers your hair loosely off your shoulders. Driving headfirst to pop a tit into his mouth. The grumble he emits against your chest makes you giggle, the scruffiness distracting you from your discomfort. 

“Ahhh shit!” You whine out. His hips stutter relentlessly into you as you arch deeper to rest your full body weight onto him. Letting him do the work as he lazily thrusts into you. 

“Aww sweetheart, tired already? Lettin’ yer old man do all the damn work?” You offer a mere grunt at his taunt. “Shut up. You’re the one taking for-fucking ever.”

Joel doesn’t respond to you right away, but you get the memo when he pretty much begins to thrust into you like a man unhinged. 

The grip around the back of your hair turns meaner when he tugs you to look at him. Deep brown eyes pooling in admiration and sheer fucking need. 

“Look at me.” He commands. The way he jackhammers into your pussy being the only constant. “Look at me when I fuckin’ cum in this pussy.”

Your gaze flickers in slight surprise, soft gasps turning into moans when he thumbs your clit. “W-Wait. Joel—I-I can’t.” You manage when the sensation builds in you again. 

He adjusts his hold onto your hair in a pleasant grip. Making sure you looked at him while he fucked you hard and fast. 

“Yeah y’can.” He grunts into your ears, fucking you deeper in shorter bursts now. Joel could feel his balls steadily tensing up. 

“Give daddy nother’ one n’ I’ll consider fuckin’ this come deep into ya.” 

You grit your teeth in focus, desperate to give him what he wanted. If you couldn’t come with just his fat cock poking deep into you, you’d come at the way he was looking at you. Brows knit in focus, lips twitched in an attempt to not come. 

You finally falter, nails digging into his shoulder as your gaze flashes white and orange. Squeezing around his cock. Joel shudders at the sensation. 

“Shit, baby, I’m gonna—” 

You snap your gaze up when you hear a shuffle from behind the parasols. It doesn’t register in your head how you managed to grab the yellow and white and yellow tube. 

Joel seems to catch your shock, but he isn’t able to stop his cum from spurting deep into your cunt the same time you squirt an obscene amount of sunscreen into his chest. 

His hand instinctively comes up to adjust your bikini top, more so to make sure he isn’t letting his wife flash her yabbos out to other people. 

You stiffen up, palm smearing the sticky white lotion down Joel’s chest as one of the resort workers comes around with arms full of beach cleaning supplies. 

“Um…bonjou?”