#i soaked my hand for as long as i could but it still hurts like a bitch

[everyfandomever]

am not having a good day

[magnusbae]

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you 🖤

🖤 What a wicked thing to do, 🐇 🐇 to make me dream of you 🖤

🖤 What a wicked thing to say, 🐇

🐇 you never felt this way 🖤

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Simon taking care of you when you accidentally injured yourself. Just fluff cuz I need fluff :D .

cw: pet names (princess, love etc.)

“Simon, I’m home!”

You opened the front door, only to see Simon sitting on the couch. Hearing your voice, he raised his head from the book he was infatuated with these days, and a low hum left him as a welcome.

“I’ll go shower first, the weather’s hot as hell, and I’m stink.”

You tossed the key onto the plate, nonchalantly passed your lover, but Simon could sense the difference in your movements.

“Stop.”

He stood up from the couch, and came straight towards you.

Oh no, you’re so fucked up.

“Hey, Si! I’m dirty! put me down!”

Simon ignored your yelling, scooping you up and over his shoulder.

“Don’t move.”

He demanded, and you swallowed hard when he grabbed your left ankle, and lifted the trouser legs.

“You’re hiding this from me?” His coffee-like brown eyes narrowed in disapproval, throwing you daggers while all you could do was let out a sigh.

“Sorry, Simon. Don’t want to concern you.”

Crooking his eyebrow, Simon darted his eyes back to observe the wound on your left calf. A long, deep cut went across half of your flesh, blood just managed to stop dripping, and fortunately didn’t stick your injury to the clothes.

“Where do you get this?”

“The parking lot of the market. Didn’t see a rock and stumble over it, and the pin sticking out of a wall dug into my leg when I tried to steady myself.” You shrugged.

You knew he was worried and hated to see you get hurt, that’s why you try to sneak to the bathroom and deal with it yourself. Simon’s eyes softened when he learned how you get yourself injured, but you had a feeling that he wouldn’t allow you to do things alone for at least a week.

“let’s go shower.” He picked you up swiftly as if you weighed nothing, and you just melted into his touch.

“You gonna help me?” Even though you knew the answer, you still asked when he strode to the bathroom.

“You think there’s other options?”

“... No.”

“Good Girl.” planting a kiss on your forehead, he kicked open the door.

“Close your eyes, don’t want to sting them, love.”

Your satisfied grumble when his hands attentively scratched your head made Simon chuckle. He put you in the warm bathtub, and the little chair looked comical under his bulky stature, but you didn’t laugh at him this time, instead focusing on his hands.

His hands, working magically through your hair, carefully not to tug your hair with too much strength. The hands that always protect you, the hands that are littered with scars, soaked with blood, but massage your shoulders when you are tired, shuffle your hair when you playfully argue with him, place on your belly when he hugs you from behind and whispered his affection to you.

He reserved all his tenderness to you, and you wondered why you were lucky enough to have this man as yours.

“Told you to close your eyes, love.”

You smiled when Simon finally discovered you had been staring at him from the start.

“Am I not allowed to watch my beautiful husband?”

“Don’t complain when the sud run into those pretty eyes then.” He huffed out a laugh.

When it came to you, he just couldn’t do anything but surrender to your adorable cheekiness. He thought when he couldn’t help but give your cheek a peck.

You sat on the edge of your bed now. Simon had dry your hair, and made you put on your underwear and his black shirt.

He was kneeling in front of you now, picking through the gauze and disinfectant. He seemed to find all the things he needed. Placing them aside, he took your ankle in his hand again.

“It’ll hurt a bit.”

He traced circles on your thigh to soothe the pain when he sprayed the antiseptic on your wound and waited for it to dry.

“You’re doing well, love. We’re almost finished.”

He cooed when he saw you blinked away a tear hanging on the corner of your eye.

Nodding, you watched him cover the wound with gauze and secure it.

“Thank you, Si.”

You chanted softly when his thumb caressed on the tape. Simon didn’t let go of your ankle when you thanked him, but landed a kiss beside the gauze.

“A spell for faster healing” The childish glints in his eyes were obvious when he lifted his head to meet your eyes.

“Don’t know you’re such a romantic person, baby.” You poke his cheek with a laugh.

“Guess there’s more of me yet for you to figure out.

He threw the bottles back into the medkit, and finally stood up after kneeling for ten minutes.

“Anything you want now, princess?”

“cuddle with me, Simon. The wound hurts.”

“Who’s the one trying to hide it thirty minutes ago?”

Lying on your back on the bed, his blonde hair shined under the light, but not brighter than the languid smirk he wore on his lips.

“Are you saying you don’t want to cuddle with me now?”

“Are there other options?”

“of course not, handsome.” You worm yourself into the comforter, and beckoned him to join you.

Slump down on the bed, he wiggled himself into his usual cuddling posture, arms snaked around your waist, and covered your belly with his palm.

“Anything for you, love.” You felt he kissed the shell of your ear when your eyes closed under the coziness.

[luveline]

I’m obsessed with the sister!hotch and Reid fics. I can’t stop imagining that scene where Rossi goes to Garcia’s house and she’s fresh from the shower with Kevin. But instead is Hotch at readers house and Spencer is there.

—you and Spencer are in the midst of a long weekend together when your brother shows up unannounced. fem, 1.3k

“You’re really handsome.” 

Spencer laughs as you drag your hands back over his ears and through his sopping wet hair. The shower water is blissfully warm and soaking your front as it rains down on his head. You shield his eyes but otherwise have your fun. His hair is softer than anything you’ve ever felt. 

He holds your hands flat to his head. “You’re handsomer.” 

“Am I supposed to take that in a good way or a bad way?” you ask. 

“A good way!” he says, forgetting your hands in favour of guiding you under the water. “Handsome has nearly always been used for men more than women, but it didn’t fall out of fashion for girls until the fifties.” He tilts your head upward and to one side as his own begins to fall the other way. “You’re beautiful.” His voice is warm on your lips, “you’re so–”

His kiss is ridiculous; he kisses like he’s starving. You didn’t realise men could actually kiss like this until you met him. It’s not just in the movies, it’s right now, his hand at the back of your neck, unbothered by your laughing or your hand slipping down his wet t-shirt. 

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” you say. 

“We were covered in mud.” 

“We should’ve just got naked.” 

“We’re taking things slow,” he says, laughing, “it’s fun. But what are we gonna do about our wet clothes?”

“You got the most of the mud on you,” you say. Spencer had performed a valiant rescue in that when you fell, he was straight down into the grass after you in an attempt to save your jeans. It didn’t work, obviously, but the thought was there, and he’s such a good kisser in the shower that you don’t mind the loss. “I’m gonna get out and get changed, you can have a real shower, okay? I’ll get you a towel and your pyjamas and stuff.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, it’s fine. I think all the mud from my top half is gone.” 

Spencer takes your face into his hand. His thumb rubs a line along your jaw. “Now it’s gone.” 

You beam. Who knew Dr. Spencer Reid was such a tender guy? You could sort of guess from looking at him that he’d touch you like that, but it’s a contrast, too, to be kissed as though you’re some irresistible siren and to have your face held like fragile glass. 

You step out of the shower still sodden, clothes heavy, and close the frosted door between you and Spencer to strip down. Separated but still shy, you hurry out of your clothes and into a towel, wrapping yourself tightly to head into your bedroom. 

You put on blissfully dry underwear and blot your face. Next is loose pyjama pants and a big t-shirt: you’ve never worried about being sexy for Spencer and you’re not about to start. Your first date was a walk in the park, your second date at the bowling alley. He’s not concerned with that stuff. It’s why his frankness about wanting to take things slow isn’t scary, because when he holds your face and tells you you’re pretty, you believe it. 

“Y/N?” 

You flinch so hard your neck cracks. “Ow,” you whine. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You walk forward before Aaron can let himself into your bedroom. Sure enough, your older brother is in your apartment (as he’s allowed, given that he furnished the entire place and paid the security deposit, and, also, awfully, is a very nice big brother). He’s smiling, carrying two pizza boxes and a carton atop it that smells like French fries. “What have you done now?” he asks fondly. 

“I hurt my neck, you scared me.” 

“If you answered your phone, you’d know I was here.” 

“I was in the shower!” 

“I can see that. You’re getting slovenly, it’s almost midday.” 

You’re so genuinely happy to see him that you forget for a moment your predicament. “It’s the weekend, I can do what I want.” You’re gonna have to let him down, which won’t be easy. “I’m not feeling the best, actually.” 

Aaron lets the pizza boxes rest against his stomach. “How come?” 

“I don’t know, I just feel tired. Maybe we can do something tomorrow.” 

“Honey,” Aaron says, with all the cadence of someone who’s used to rubbing your back when you’re sick, “what’s wrong? Let’s go sit down, I can make you something less greasy.” 

“I think you should just go home, actually. I might be contagious.” 

He looks less concerned and more gutted. “What? I don’t care if you’re contagious. When has that stuff ever bothered me?” Aaron takes another step toward you, his gaze flitting past you toward your bathroom. “What’s really going on?” 

The age gap between you and Aaron is expansive. Your being adopted is another gap, and neither have ever bothered him. The moment you showed up in his life he gave you everything he could manage, which has manifested in long phone calls, in hugs, in homemade soup and delivery when he couldn’t be there. Asking him not to look after you is like telling him you don’t want him to, and it isn’t true. 

He means a lot more to you than whatever awkwardness your confession will inspire. 

“Aaron,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “Spencer’s in the shower.” 

He squeezes his pizza boxes. “Sorry?” 

“We went to the park and I fell by the lake. He’s in the shower.” 

“But you were just in the shower,” Aaron says. 

“Well, we weren’t in there at the same time,” you drag. 

Your lie is obvious to him, not just as a profiler but as your brother. His brow pinches and his nose wrinkles, not disgusted with you or anything so cruelly stupid, but dissatisfied, at least. “Did you have to tell me that?” he asks, pained.

“I didn’t tell you that, you profiled that, and it’s sort of not what you think anyways! We didn’t do anything–”

“Honey.” 

“I’m really sorry, but it’s not what you think.” 

“Listen to me.” The shower turns off and Aaron’s cheek twitches. “You are a grown up. You can do what you like with who you like. It’s my fault for coming here unannounced, I keep thinking of you as younger than you are.” Says the adult. Then, the more friendly part of being a sibling emerges, “Could you send him home?” he whispers. “I got your favourite.” 

You laugh at his proposition. “That’s kinda rude, isn’t it? Can’t he stay? He’s cool.” 

“I’m having trouble coalescing the two of you as more than acquaintances in my mind,” he says, as though he has much more to say about it, even if he’s smiling. 

Spencer chooses that moment to walk from the en-suite bathroom and out of your room, a t-shirt stuck to his chest with damp, his own pyjama pants baggy at the ankles.

“Hey, are you okay?” Spencer grabs your hand impulsively, twining his fingers in yours. Then he sees Aaron and does a double take. “Hotch?”

You give Aaron a sorry smile. “Does that make it easier?” 

“I’ll wait in the kitchen.” 

You and Spencer watch Aaron retreat. His hand stays in yours, but he squeezes you too tightly. “Wait for what?” Spencer whispers fervently. 

You lean up on tiptoes to kiss his eyebrow. “You’re about to get the shovel talk, I think.” 

“Oh. Great.” He drops his forehead against your shoulder, wet hair dripping a path down your shirt. “This is really bad.” 

“He brought pizza.” 

“I don’t think that’s going to help me.” 

You crane your head and kiss-kiss-kiss the top of his ear. “You’re really pretty when your hair is wet.” 

Spencer murmurs to you reluctantly. “You’re really pretty all the time.” 

[allbark-no-bite]

good boy.

art donaldson x reader (wc: 2.9k)

summary: as Art’s personal physical therapist, it’s your job to fix what Tashi has torn apart, by whatever means necessary. or in which Art just needs some TLC

warnings: 18+ smut, it could be worse tbh, mentions of disordered eating

author’s note: i’m back ig?? im out of uni for the summer and challengers has me in a chokehold. Art Donaldson the man that you are

————————————————————————

You're standing just within earshot of the doorway, passing a sanitary wipe over one of the tables in the athlete treatment room when you hear the door abruptly open. Tashi storms in with a purpose and Art trails meekly behind her. Even if you had been clueless to how the match had gone rather than on the sidelines beside Tashi not even twenty minutes ago, you could have guessed by the hard line of her mouth that Art was in for it. Not that her displeased scowl was much different from her usual scowl, but you'd been around long enough to know the difference.

She stops abruptly, and Art heels obediently as Tashi turns around to face him. "I need you to tell me when you're going to fucking get it together so that I can stop wasting my time."

Weary and sweat soaked, Art just stares at her with that pitiful look on his face and says nothing in reply. His blue eyes solemnly take in her harsh disappointment as though beyond used to it. At this point it's not all that foreign to you either.

"You may as well be fucking asleep out there," she snaps.

This time his mouth opens. "I- I'm just tired-" he begins, although there's hardly any argue to his voice at all.

"No, I'm tired, Art," Tashi interjects. "Do you have any idea how much fucking work I've put into getting you back onto the court this past year?! I've done everything! The least you could do go out there and try to act like I've done anything for you at all!"

Art swallows, the slight frown on his face deepening. "I am. I just- I don't-"

Before he can even finish his sentence. The open palm of Tashi's hand connects with his cheek as she pops the left side of his face. Art closes his mouth. You pretend to concentrate on wiping down the table. It's not the first time you've witnessed one of these conversations but it still feels private, like you shouldn't be here. You keep wiping the table.

Understanding that anything else he says is only going to make Tashi angrier, Art resigns to once again watching her in silence. His blue eyes are sad. The usually fair skin of his cheek is tinted pink where she popped him. Although it wasn't very hard, you're sure it still hurt him all the same.

"Quit wasting my time," is all she says before she finally turns and leaves, walking right past you and out the other door. You hold your breath as she passes you. Art watches her go but makes no move to follow. You release an audible sigh. It's been a frustrating day for everyone. As Art's personal trainer, physical therapist, and close friend, you felt every loss, every ache and pain, every bad play. And there seemed to be a lot of those lately.

Art is still standing there, watching the closed door that Tashi left though.

Not knowing how to break the silence, you finally pat the freshly sanitized treatment table. "C'mon," you call gently, as though beckoning to a wounded dog.

It takes a moment for him to budge, but eventually he does, his disheartened spirit apparent in the way he walks over. Used to the usual routine, he tugs his damp shirt off over his head as he takes a seat, the lean muscles of his torso flexing as he does so. You allow yourself to ogle at him, only for a brief moment before stepping in between the bracket of his knees. Gently, you cradle his chin, tipping his head back to look up at you as your thumb smooths over the redness of his cheek. His blue eyes blink up at you, sad and dog-like.

"It wasn't terrible," you reassure him. "You had surgery six months ago. You're still getting your feet back underneath you. Most people wouldn't have come back." You're right. The still-pink scars on his shoulder are still fresh on your mind. The stitches weren't even out before Tashi had him in physical therapy. Even though his medical team had released him, it was still a bit early to start doing rehab so soon after surgery, Art's comfort being your biggest concern. But when Tashi wants something, she gets it.

Wordlessly, Art sighs, the weight of his head settling into your palm as he finally lets go of the tension he'd been carrying. It was always like this. You fixing what Tashi had torn apart. You understood where Tashi was coming from. Art needed a firm voice in his training, and you had a lot of respect for the way she put her foot down and never let up, not even once. But there was only so many times you could kick a dog while he was down.

So if Art needed someone to coddle him, you would coddle him.

He trusts you. He needs you, is what Tashi had told you when she asked you to stay on as his trainer full time. The three of you had been in the same year at Stanford all those years ago, Tashi and Art on the tennis team and you helping out as a student trainer as part of a class requirement. Three peas in a pod, the trio of you were. Of course then they both graduated, leaving you to finish up your schooling, meanwhile Art set off to go pro.

A few years later, once Tashi officially took on the position as Art's coach, she began building his team, and that's where you came in. You were hesitant at first.

'I already lost to you once, Tashi. I won't come in second to you again.'

She had paused on the other end of the line. Back in your Stanford days, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that you were head over heels in love with the blonde tennis player. But loving Art was like accepting the participation ribbon for a game you knew you weren't going to win in the first place. It was like standing next to the podium, just lucky enough to be included in the picture while Tashi and tennis took first and second place. And so you let him go.

'I'm not asking you to. This is different.'

Your hand slips from his face, and he forces his eyes open.

“Have you eaten?" you ask, stepping away in order to put some distance between the two of you and look for the granola bars that you keep especially for him. The gels were good sources of quick fuel in between sets, but they were hardly enough to even begin to make up for the calories he burned while playing.

Slowly, Art shakes his head, but he makes no move to take the snack from your hand when you offer it to him. Ever since his injury, nutrition became all the more important. So much to the point that every single thing that he consumed was mapped out to the exact calorie. Although he would never admit it, any sort of change in this routine made him incredibly anxious. Some days it was better not to cause him the anxiety than to force him.

Today, you insistently hold out the bar until he begrudgingly takes it from your hand. You don't move until you've seen him tear open the package and take a bite.

"Were you still feeling tight?" you ask as you walk around the table, stopping at the slouch of his turned back. You reach out to grasp at the joint of his neck and shoulder, your thumb smoothing over the kinesiology tape that's peeling away at the base of his neck.

He half turns his head to glance back at you. "You watched the match. You tell me."

His response is meant to be snippy, but it comes out more defeated than anything. To be fair, you've been his trainer long enough to know that if something was bothering him physically, you would have picked up on it.

"I want to hear it from you."

"I felt fine."

Your left hand follows suit on the other side of his neck, and you use both of your thumbs to apply pressure to what you assume will be a tense spot along the upper part of his traps. Predictably, Art groans at the attention. The muscles of his back contract as he fights the urge to shake you off. Relaxing the muscle hurts as much as it feels good. Besides his obvious discomfort, the rest of his body has gone lax under your touch. His shoulders have dropped at least an inch, and his chin has fallen to rest against his chest.

"Finish your granola bar," you reprimand him, your firm fingers working across his back until you find another spot that nearly has him jerking away. He releases a whine but obediently takes another bite of the bar. This time he finishes it before you have to remind him again.

You spend a few more minutes torturing him before you're satisfied that a majority of the tension has left his shoulders.

"Okay, good boy," you murmur, leaning forward so that your chest is close enough to brush against his back. One of your hands trails up to squeeze the back of his neck reassuringly.

You're close enough to hear him swallow at the name. The skin on the nape of his neck shivers despite how hot he still is from the match.

"Was I?" he asks timidly. "Good today?"

'I can be his coach. Or I can be the person he cries to after a bad day. But I can't be both. That's why he needs you."

Without removing your hand from his neck, you walk around the table so you're standing in front of him. Art widens the spread of his legs so that you can stand between them. His chin is still pressed to his chest, blue eyes focused on the ground.

"Art," is all you say, shifting your grip on his neck to tug lightly at his golden blonde hair. At your voice, he lifts his head just enough to look up at you through the pale wisps of his eyelashes. The irises of his blue eyes shine are wet with uncertainty.

Your fingers loosen their grip to allow your nails to scratch at his scalp. "You're good, Art. You'll always be good."

Art twists his head to nuzzle his cheek along the inside of  your outstretched arm. His lips kiss the crook of your elbow. He swallows again. "Even if I don't play tennis?"

You can tell the question's been bothering him, eating at his nerves, and messing up his game. You know him well enough to know that retirement isn't what he wants, not really. At least not right now. What he wants is the reassurance that it's going to be okay if he can't swing the comeback.

"Look at me."

He lingers a moment longer with his lips pressed lovingly against your skin before he reluctantly shifts his gaze up to you. His look is anticipatory but reserved, as if to preemptively conceal his disappointment should you choose to crush his heart with your answer.

His fear is understandable. Art's relationship with Tashi has always been entirely built off of his tennis career. By being the driving force behind his success, Tashi has vicariously lived out the life she would have had had her injury never happened. Without tennis, Art has nothing left to offer her. He knows that if he gives up tennis, he loses Tashi.

Your relationship with Art was a little less conditional. Hell, you'd been in love with him since the first time you'd laid eyes on him at Stanford. You can still picture him standing there on the court, barely nineteen, scrawny, nervous smile, backwards cap over his strawberry blonde hair. Before he was the Art Donaldson. But when Tashi had stepped into the picture, you figured that was where your fairytale ended.

"I don't love you because of tennis. I love you because you're kind, and thoughtful, and you're passionate about what you do." You smile a bit before adding, "And you're my good boy."

The name turns him bashful again, and he's quick to turn and hide his smiling face against your arm, only the flushed tips of his ears visible. "[Y/n]," he mumbles, likely meaning to be threatening, but it doesn't come out that way.

Art Donaldson lived to be praised.

You laugh, pulling him closer so that his face is held against your chest. The hand that you don't have threaded through his hair trails up the muscle of his defined quad. "You're my good boy. Aren't you, baby?"

Art whines, squirming when your hand reaches the apex of his thigh and hovers over the forming bugle of his shorts. He's not quite there yet, his dick only half chubbed up in interest, but given the day that he's had, you won't make him wait.

"Please?" he mumbles, his face still buried into your collarbone, as if attempting to curling into you, like a small child needing their parent to hold them for comfort.

You rake your nails lightly up the inside of his thigh. "What, baby?"

Not only did Art liked to be praised, but he was masochist even on his worst days.

"Want you to touch me," he mumbles, his voice muffled by your shirt. "Please."

Your hand still scratching through his hair, you press a kiss to the side of his head, unable to suppress your smile at his timid politeness and how it never seems to fail him. The only time he ever resembled anything remotely voracious was on the court.

Palm finding his tented shorts, you cup him through the fabric. Art responds immediately to your touch, his hips shifting further into your grasp. You continue to pet him through his shorts, appreciating the way you can feel him actively responding to your touch.

His nails dig into the padding of the treatment table when you give his now fully hard dick a less than sympathetic squeeze. His breath is hot as he pants against your collarbone, alternating between laving open mouthed kisses to your skin and whining when you pause fondling him just to feel his hips rut up into your palm.

Art was so in control on the tennis court, that often after a match, putting the control into someone else's hands was just what he needed.

When his hips start to stutter, you ease up but continue to stroke him through his shorts. The front of his shorts are damp with the musk of residual sweat and precum.

His breath is shallow—anticipatory.

"Gunna come?" you ask softly, speaking into the blonde mess of his hair, cradling him. He right there, you can tell by the lackluster buck of his hips, his building fatigue, and the change in his breathing.

"Can I? —Please?" Art asks breathily. He hiccups out the last part, his voice catching.

"You know you don't have to ask."

There's a brief pause, as if coming to the realization, before he meekly murmurs, "I know.

It should be sad really, his unwavering obedience, but there are two sides to Art, two polar extremes. On the court, every match, every set, every debilitating second is up to him. No one else can help him out there, and up until about a year ago, he played like it. That was the side of Art Donaldson that Tashi wanted. After the match is a different story. In private, Art needed someone to do the thinking for him, to pull him into a reality where he could believe that it didn't matter whether he won or lost. Tashi had not the sympathy nor the patience for that kind of fragility.

Art comes with a brief cry into your chest, his body arching into yours. Your hand palms at his pulsing dick until he's oversensitive and pulling away. When you relent, the front of his shorts are sticky and wet.

Finally, Art lifts his face from the safety of your chest. His blue eyes are glossed over, but it's an improvement from the detached look they held ten minutes ago. His cheeks are flushed, a mixture of his own embarrassment and satisfaction. 

You can't help the soft smile that creeps onto your face at the look of him, and immediately Art is abashedly trying to hide his face again, his own smile starting to appear. Before he can, you bring your hands back up to cradle his face, thumbs wiping away the wetness from under his eyes. This time he lets you.

His eyes study your face for a second, admiring you, appreciating the love he has for you.

“I don’t want to play tennis anymore.”

You can’t tell if it’s more of a statement or a confession. Either way, you know he’s telling you the absolute truth.

“Okay,” you reply softly, not hint of judgement in your voice. Maybe some disappointment, but that was understandable.

Retirement would be a kindness. Art would finally put back on some healthy weight, start smiling again, put on a real, actual smile. You could already see it, a nice house for the two of you to settle down in, with a picket fence and a dog in the backyard, the kind of things the two of you would have never had time for on tour.

Tennis had brought the two of you together, but it wouldn’t end you.

[princessbrunette]

john b made puppy!reader cum a whole bunch of times. no, not to overstimulate her — he’d thought about it, many times with his cock in his hand, but it was early days. today, he just had to be certain that she was slicked up enough to even get him inside that snug cunt.

he drags the tip through your puffy folds, watching each and every way your body jerks and twitches — audibly soaked, your arousal clicking and oozing with each grind of his hips. you were still sensitive, naturally — the taste of you still on his tongue, so he was being patient. even when he watched your hole clench around nothing and you placed a smaller hand on his wrist.

“please, i still want it daddy.” you groan, tearful and demure.

“look, i want you to know that we don’t have to do anything today if you don’t —”

“i still want it, daddy.” you suck in a breath so sharp you nearly choke on it and he raises his eyebrows, nodding in yielding.

“okay, okay. take it easy sweetheart. i’ll give you what you want.”

he watches the way his fat tip presses against your puffy pussy lips, spreading them obscenely from just the slightest pressure. john b always knew he was big, bigger than average atleast. curious eyes had decided that for himself upon taking shy glances around all-male changing rooms and locker room conversations about dick size that had friends saying ‘you’re a fucking liar, bro.’ the girls in his past had a little more experience than you, and welcomed the stretch — but looking at you below him, he wondered if this could potentially scare you off. he was about to do something he never thought he’d do, chicken out.

“bubba…” he cradles you, sliding hands under your back to hold you close and press kisses to your hot skin. john b’s voice was filled with sympathy, and if you weren’t so hazy in the head, desperate for his dick — you might’ve picked up on what he was about to say. “i don’t think it’s gonna fit, puppy.” he coo’s.

“no!” you whine petulantly. it wasn’t like you to be spoiled or demanding — but you had been preparing all week to take your boyfriend and you’d be damned if you didn’t get to atleast try to feel him inside you. “no, john b!” crestfallen, you let the hot tears race down your cheeks and his brows crease, feeling awful about it.

“i don’t want to hurt you, okay? i just —”

“make it fit, please— please make it fit john b, need it so bad!” you babble out a beg, snot pooling beneath your nose and all. he’d seen desperation, and he’d seen you cry — but never had he seen you cry in desperation for his cock. it twitches involuntarily against you, the heavy pink tip thumping your clit making you jerk, shuddering.

“heyheyheyhey— okay, okay. sweetheart, look at me. look at daddy. riiiight here.” he presses a wide hand to your chest to still you, the warmth of his palm proving to serve as some comfort as you suck in a shaky breath, bottom lip still wobbling. “thaaats my girl. breathe, okay?” he feels the thudding of your heart slow ever so slightly against his palm as you suck in slow trembling breaths. “i’m… i’m gonna try okay? but you… you need to breathe. gonna give me a heart attack, pup — jesus.” he sighs, lining himself up once more.

he decides one fluid motion might be better, so once he starts pushing in he doesn’t stop. slowly, but surely he feels your walls contract and stretch around his thickness — your jaw tense in determination as you put every muscle possible into lax, allowing john b to do what needs to be done.

“that okay? talk to me puppy how does it feel?”

“feels full.” you say through a strained tongue. you didn’t know you’d stopped breathing.

“what’d i say, hm? breathe.”

you suck in a long hard breath at this permission, and as you do so john b takes the opportunity to bottom out completely, dropping his forehead to your shoulder to let out a gravelly groan as you squeak. you feel as though you can’t even clench. there’s no space. he feels your glossy walls fluttering and trying anyway.

“happy, pup? that feel nice?”

he lifts his head, warm brown eyes searching your watery iris. there’s a softness to you suddenly, like you’d completely let go and you nod— a clammy hand pushing his wavy brown hair from his face.

“i wanna stay like this forever.”

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ This is more than a sick love story (Pt.2) ⭑

Masterlist

Part 2 to; "The ballad of the raven and the dragon, Part 1.

Pairing: Benjicot ("Davos") Blackwood x targ!princess!reader

Summary: Returning home after that evening was harder than you thought, the risky letters don't help either. Would it really hurt to meet again?

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, +18, heavy yearning, sexting in medieval times, mastrubation, pillow humping, making out, grinding, handjob, oral both m and f receiving. And some fluff <3.

Word count: 3k

POV: Benjicot Blackwood

A mixture of iron and salt coats his tongue, the clashing of swords and screaming of men fills his ears. Yet another man's blood spraying over his face and garbs. House Bracken wanted revenge for their fallen men and when they heard of the princesses departure they made their move. Even Benjicot could taste the cowardice in their blood. At this point the battle could barely be called a battle anymore as house Bracken had already suffered heavy losses. 

Benjicot couldn’t even keep up with the amount of Brackens he killed now, mind in a blur due to the adrenaline and violence. Even the cows didn’t survive. His men killed the remaining of the intruders and the battle was clearly won by house Blackwood. It had only been a week after the princess left and already his heart had a gaping hole which only could be filled by her. She promised she would write secretly, using ravens that would only ever make their way to him. 

The sun began to set as they left the sea of bodies behind them, making their way back to Raventree Hall. Upon arrival the gods had clearly answered his prayers because just when he got off his horse and handed him to one of the stable boys a raven flew towards him. Quickly taking the letter he made his way to his only place of privacy, and just like everyday he passed the dining hall. His cock stiffens every time he’s in or passes that room now, memories of the intimacy he shared with the princess flooding his mind. He finally got to his bedchamber and locked the door behind him once inside. Benjicot didn’t even bother to clean himself first, he ripped the unmarked seal off the letter and rolled it open.

Dear B,

I hope you are well, I wrote this as soon as I got home but I suppose the raven will take a bit to get back to you. The whole way back I couldn’t stop thinking about your handsome face, or your hands tracing my body. You are and will be on my mind until I get to see you again, however the idea of maybe never meeting you again strikes fear into my heart. I never thought that that one evening with you would change me so. I was too afraid to tell you this in person but you are the most fearsome, handsome and astounding man I have ever met. We have to meet again, I would not survive without your touch. Even thinking about that evening now sets my chest aflutter and my thighs soaking. You don’t even understand how badly I need you again. I hope you think of me as well. I hope you use my chemise every night to get off to the thought of me. I have thought long and hard about a place we could meet. I think the Whispering Wood is perfect, it is near enough for you to sneak out to and I can easily hide my dragon along the coast of Iron Man Bay. I hope you write back to me soon. 

Love, your pretty princess.

His mouth was still agape when there was a knock on his door. “My lord shall I draw a bath for you?” He could hear one of his servants' muffled voice. He rapidly stuffed the letter in his pocket, opened the door and let the servant do her work. Once the bath was drawn he dismissed the servant, he always washed himself since he never liked people just watching him be naked. With the door closing he removed the letter from his pocket and smelled. And like he suspected it smelt of ink, smoke and her perfume oil. Benjicot placed the letter on the small table beside the bath and swiftly removed his clothes. His cock already hard and leaking from reading the letter. 

He got in the warm bath with a sigh, he thought for a moment and grabbed the letter from the table next to him. His eyes scanned the words again and he felt his poor weeping cock begging for attention, so he read the letter once again, now grazing his thumb over the leaking slit on the head of his hard member. A mixture of a hiss and groan leaving his lips, he was so horny he didn’t even care if someone heard him. His eyes never leaving the letter he started to roughly jerk off his cock, the words on the paper relighting the memories of their shameful evening. 

His perverted mind only added fuel to the fire by imagining new scenarios with you, gods he’d fuck you on his bed, on his chair, on the settee, on the floor, against the wall, fuck even in the bath. The last image really spurred him on, moaning at the thought, he put the letter down for a moment to massage his seed filled balls as well as fisting his cock. Softly chanting your name through the room. “Please- please- fuck me- ride me baby just like that- ah fuck- I can’t-” 

Seven Hells even his own dirty little words made the fantasy feel real. Your cunt enveloping his hard sensitive cock, water splashing everywhere as both your moans filled the room. He could feel the familiar knot starting to snap in his belly, he fetched the letter from beside him again, thrusted into his fist a few more times and released ropes of his seed all over your letter. The words blurring as his cum covered them. He panted and shuddered at the sight. 

When Benjicot had calmed down from his orgasm he put the letter aside and now actually washed himself, even after he had dried himself off, had hidden the letter, and crawled into bed he still felt aroused. His cock hardening once again he knew his hand wouldn’t do so he threw the sheets of himself, removed his breeches and grabbed his pillow to position it just like he had you bend over the table. 

He then grabbed his again leaking precum member and positioned it against the pillow, the texture on his angry red tip feeling like pure bliss, he started humping against the pillow wishing it was you on his bed instead. Fucking the pillow harder and harder he decided it was better to release in his hand instead. So with a cuss and loud moan he spurted his cum in his hand imagining it was your cunt he was filling instead. After having cleaned off his hand in a basin, pulling his breeches back on he could finally fall asleep.

The next morning he immediately fetched paper and ink and started on a letter to write you back, when he was pleased with it he sent it by raven and hoped it would fall into your hands. Afterwards getting on with his duties as lord of Raventree Hall. 

Your POV:

A raven flew into the open window of Dragon Stone, the sun had set and you were in your chambers reading a book to your brother Joffrey. It had been two weeks since you sent that letter and you were beginning to get worried but relief washed over you at the sight of the raven. The second the raven landed on your settee you sent Joffrey back to his chambers guided by your handmaiden and told her that she was free for the night. She eyed you suspiciously but has always followed you loyally. When they left you grabbed the letter from the raven which flew away again and opened the unmarked seal, heart beating in your chest, you rolled the letter open.

My dear beloved,

Your raven arrived safely into my hands, I had to open it alone which proved to be needed because of your passionate writing. I am well unless you count the way in which you have plagued my mind. I can’t do any work without thinking, ‘what would my love think of this’ or ‘I wish my love could help me with this’. Seven hells, I can’t even walk in or pass my dining room anymore without my cock growing stiff in my pants. Any thought about you turns sinful, you have perverted me and turned me into a monster. Especially now without your touch. Last night when I read your letter, I read it in my bath. And you know what I did? I fucked my hand imagining it was your sweet cunt instead and when I reached my peak, I came all over your pretty handwriting. Your letter made me so horny I later fucked my pillow in bed too. So it is safe to say I need your touch too. So fucking badly. When you get this letter, try to leave as quickly as possible and head to our location. I will be waiting under the ruse of a solo hunting trip. Don’t make me wait too long my love. 

Love your B.

You went to bed with an uncontrollable smile on your face, your skin hot and folds wet at the thought of seeing your Benji again. The next morning you told one of the servants to inform your mother about your “flight to patrol the sea” so you could actually quickly get dressed and leave on dragon back to the Whispering Wood. The entire flight you thought about how meeting him again would go. High above the clouds your mind floods with impure thoughts of Benjicot Blackwood. When you knew you were about to be close to the shore of Iron Man Islands you still stayed high but descended out of the clouds so you could see. And you were right, no one was in sight when you landed with your dragon on the shore. 

So you began your pretty short walk to the Whispering Wood, nerves and excitement reeling through your body. Your walk through the Whispering Wood was different, anxiety started to take hold instead. What if he wasn’t able to come? What if someone caught you? However your fears began to ease when you could see the back of Benji’s hair and body who was standing near a small lake in the middle of the forest.

You walked as quietly as possible, wanting to surprise him. When you were near him you cupped your hands over his eyes and heard him laugh. He removed your hands and immediately turned around. He wasted no time crashing his lips on yours making you moan at his roughness. After some time he finally let go. “I have-” “I missed-” You both laughed at both of your attempts to speak first. So he started instead. “I am glad you got my letter, I can’t bear being without your touch and your voice any longer.” You smiled and a blush creeped onto your skin. “I couldn’t wait either. I don’t know what type of spell you casted on me but I don’t ever want to get rid of it.” He grinned at your words and took you in his arms once more.

“I don’t know if I can let you leave again. It would be too painful.” He confessed, holding your head against his chest with one hand and holding your waist with the other. “I don’t ever want to leave you again either but I don’t know how I would ever tell my family about this. And in the middle of a dragon war too.” He held you tighter and kissed the top of your head. “What did you tell them when you left?” Benji asked. “I told one of our servants to tell my mother that I went to patrol the seas, so I hope she bought it. I didn’t want to face her today.” You explained, your hands wrapping around him tighter. 

Benji held your chin and made you look at him. He softly licked his lips before devouring yours again like he did mere minutes ago. Except now both of your desires were growing strong. You felt like you were in heat every time he touched you. He kissed you like it was his last day on earth. You had kissed before but this time it was different. Who knew when you would see each other again?

He bit your bottom lip so he could let his tongue enter your mouth. Your feverent kiss turned into a full make out as he sucked and licked your tongue. He couldn’t hold his own groan back and let his hand slide to your ass cheeks, which he gripped harshly to pull you against him just like he did on your special evening. Which earned him a moan from you as you grazed his teeth with your tongue. Never did you think a kiss could turn so ravenous. “Benji-” You gasped against his lips when his hand began to massage your ass harshly. 

Making your two fronts grind against each other, his clothed already hard cock hitting your clothed wet cunt just right. He knew exactly what you liked and would do everything in his power to leave you shaking and trembling beneath his touch. “You want this fucking cock baby? You want it that fucking bad?” He pants against your lips, you could only moan a ‘please’ in response. 

He removed himself from you and helped you remove your clothes, you had never seen him this touch starved. He was truly acting like an animal. Benji got on his knees in front of you and swung your right leg over his shoulder for better access to where you needed him so badly. Your cunt was throbbing and almost hurting from how aroused Ben made you, your slick already coating your inner thighs. Benji held you steady and began to lap at your soaked folds, moaning at the taste of your sweet arousal. 

“Benji- please- I can’t take it-” Your want for him made you more sensitive than normal and all you could think about was how good his tongue was fucking you. It was so warm and wet and the way he used it to lap at your clit made you see stars. He took it a step further and entered a finger into your tight hole. It slipped in with ease and Benji grunted at the feeling, his own cock feeling tight in his breeches.

It didn’t take long for your orgasm to take hold of you, with the way he was fingering you and sucking and lapping at your clit, made you dizzy. You could only let out gasps and moans, your entire vocabulary being thrown out the window. With one last scream of his name he let go off you, already removing his pants and breeches ready to fuck you dumb but to his surprise you stopped him. “I want to do to you what you just did to me Benji.” You pleaded already looking up at him with your lashes. He took in a sharp breath and watched you sink to your knees.

Grabbing his leaking cock by the base you decided to lick up the precum and see how he would react. “Fuck- baby do that again. Don’t stop.” He gasped. You did as he commanded and this time sucked at his tip, resulting in him throwing his head back and moaning out of pleasure. The salty precum on your tongue motivated you to swirl your tongue around his tip and continue sucking. His groans and pants and ramblings of your name filled you with need but first you wanted his seed in your mouth again.

You continued to suck on his tip but now took him further in your mouth, earning you quite the explicit and long moan. Finally he looked down at you and softly held your head by your hair, guiding you a bit deeper. “Seven hells, look at you, swallowing my cock like that- You love it don’t you. Me using you as if your a common wench- Fuck- Just like that baby c’mon-” Him talking to you in such a manner made you reach for your clit, which made Benji smile and pant at the sight. Chasing your own release he helped you by guiding your head faster down his cock. Spit and precum drooling down your chin, hair all messed up. How would you even explain that to your family? 

“C’mon baby- I’m gonna fucking cum- You want my spent down your throat- Of course you do- Yes- Yes- Fuck!” The view of you cumming rubbing your clit finished him. You basically drank his cum as he filled your throat all while he gasped for air and moaned your name. When he pulled back from you, you licked your lips and smiled up at him. Never had you felt such power over a man. It felt way to fucking good. He pulled you back up and kissed you again. “You have no idea what you do to me.” He laughed breathlessly. 

“I think it’s about the same as what you do to me.” You smiled. He kissed your forehead before handing you your clothes again. While you both got dressed that heated, exciting and blissful mood turned quiet and solemn. You both knew you had to get back soon. After you were both dressed he sat down on the ground motioning for you to sit on his lap. You giggled as you joined him on the ground, pushing him back so you could lay on top of him, holding each other close. “I think I love you.” He suddenly blurted out. You looked at him with flushed cheeks and grazed your hand across his, over his lips and through his hair. “I think I love you as well.” He sat back up at your words and kissed you deeply. 

“Please, you can’t leave me.” He begged once he removed his lips from yours. “I don’t want to leave you.” You admitted. “You belong to me. You were made for me. I will destroy the world if that’s what it takes to make you my wife.” He rubbed your cheek with his hand as he spoke. “Come with me to Dragon Stone and ask my mother for my hand. If she for some reason refuses, I’ll cut through our guard myself if I have to, and we could run away.” He smiled at that and both of you agreed that he would ask for your hand.

[sunarc]

Part 2 • Part 1

Pervy roommates who stroke their cocks with your panties wrapped around their hand. He knows he should be embarrassed by his actions but the raspy moans he hears you let out through the thin walls block out any form of uncertainty he has. He has his ear pressed against the wall while he strokes his cock in long slow motions. He can’t help but imagine how you’re probably knuckle deep inside of your soaked hole. He hopes you’ve decided to be a little brave this time by adding another finger.

“Stretch that pretty little hole out for me doll” he says in a shaky voice. 

His cock is so hard it almost hurts. He looks down, watching the way precum drips from his tip. 

“Fuck baby” he leans against the wall sighing heavily. “Bet that pretty pussy is just begging to be filled, hm?” 

His voice is barely above a whisper. You let out a soft gasp. He can only hope that you’ve hit that soft spot in yourself. Your moans grow louder. He closes his eyes, pressing himself hard against the wall. What if your back is arching off the bed, fingers deep inside your hole stuffing yourself full. He knows he can stuff you better. He could have you creaming on his cock in no time. 

“Touch yourself baby” he whispers, imagining the way you would press your fingers against your chest. Your fingers would twist at your nipples, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip to muffle the moans you so desperately want to release. He fucks his fist faster. Whimpers escape him and his face is flushed a bright red to match the tip of his cock. His mind is blurred with thoughts of you making such a mess and with just your fingers. He wonders how big of a mess you’d make with his cock. 

“Don’t hold back baby” His voice is a low grumble. “Make that pussy messy for me doll”

He wishes he could see you right now, tear streaked face struggling to make yourself cum.

“You can be loud, Angel, I like it when you scream.” 

His face is squished against the wall. He wishes he had at least an ounce of dignity right now. Maybe he wouldn’t be practically glued to the wall right now. Maybe he would have your underwear pressed against his nose licking at where your pussy once sat. Perhaps he wouldn’t be fucking his fist, falling apart to the sound of your voice. 

He rocks his hips into fist panting listening to you whine about how you can’t reach. He’s so focused on trying not to cum too early he almost doesn’t hear it. He almost mistakes himself for getting too lost in his imagination but then he hears it again. Your sweet voice calls out his name. Are you fucking your self to the thought of him? Or had you finally caught on to the antics and were you now deciding to call him out? He stands ear pressed against the wall with his cock still in his hand frozen.

“Say it again love, call out my name” 

When you do in the most lewd voice he’s ever heard from you, his cock twitches in his hand. He stands there flushed, eyes wide, barely able to hold himself up. His heart is pounding in his chest and he feels like he might burst. 

“hm?” he calls too nervous to speak

“Are you going to join me or are you going to just cum all over your fist again.” 

He can hear you moan once again and he’s almost too ashamed to speak. How long had you known what he was doing behind this wall. He puts on boxers barely able to hide the boner he’s worked up. He walks to your room praying this isn’t some silly wet dream. There you are, exactly how he had imagined. Your fingers shoved deep inside of your hole rocking back and forth slowly. Your eyes meet his and he’s almost positive he might cum from the sight

“Help Please” he smirks, heart almost jumping out his chest.

"Don't worry Angel, I'll have your pussy squirting for me in no time"

Bokuto, Atsumu, Suna, Gojo, Toji, Matsukawa, Tsukishima, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Sakusa,choso

🏷️: @reneinii , @smoothopz , @ykimobessed , @mizloca , @smorparadise

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist of my general works

[alchemistc]

Buck's halfway through his third cup of startlingly bad coffee when Josh pushes the door to the breakroom open, looking mildly concerned in the half second before someone else looms over his shoulder.

He's too numb to do much more than take another sip of coffee as he watches Josh usher Tommy in.

The door clicks shut behind him. Buck wonders for a moment if Tommy's ever actually been to the new dispatch headquarters before. If he ever went to the old one, charming grin on his face while he waited for Abby to finish up so he could take her out, drive her home while her car was in the shop - but no, Tommy would have worked on it himself, maybe.

Had Josh recognized him, that first time, with half of his soot on Buck's face, and just never said anything?

The silence is tense. They're in a fishbowl, no room to lash out even if either of them wanted to because more than half the people working in this place can see them if they just tip their head to the side.

"How can I help?"

It's - his voice is strained, scared, worried. Buck doesn't have a single guess as to how he knows. Maybe Bobby. It's the only person he can think of who would have -.

Buck snorts. "I rebounded with a serial killer who just kidnapped my sister and my baby niece or nephew. I don't - I'm not sure what you want."

He glances up just in time to see the end of Tommy's grimace. Good. He's not sure how much more disastrous of a choice he could have made to try to get Tommy out of his system, but at least it hurts him to know. At least...

"Do you want me to go?"

Buck can't remember anyone asking, before. Usually they just... leave. Get up, walk out, disappear. Tommy bubbled Buck five times in three months. Buck went through seven bags of flour before he drove Eddie to the airport.

His voice shakes on his "No," and Tommy is there, all of the sudden, his hand hovering just over Buck's shoulder, like he realized halfway there it might not be welcome. "Do you still think I need to keep looking for someone better than you?"

It'd been seeing Tommy out with a guy that'd prompted him to stop fucking baking and make an effort to just...get over it But with Eddie away, and the rest of the 118 so wrapped up in their lives, there weren't a whole lot of outlets for that. And it's been easy to willfully misinterpret Tommy's breakup speech. Or - interpret it in the most hurtful way possible.

"Is this what you want to do right now?" Tommy asks, even and measured. "Will this help?"

"I want my sister back!"

Tommy takes a step back. His hands shift to his pockets, and Buck just wants -

"Why are you here?"

He tips his head up. Holds Tommy's gaze. Tommy flounders in a way Buck's never seen before.

He looks - tired. Good. White Henley under a flannel Buck had always told him brought out his eyes. The jeans Buck had stolen once or twice because they made his ass look good. His hair's grown in at the sides, and the sprinkling of greys are more obvious than the last time he'd seen it this length.

"I just... didn't want you to be alone."

Tears threaten at the corners of his eyes. He wants to laugh, but he's terrified if he starts he won't be able to hold in the fear. "When did that change?"

Tommy gnaws on his cheek. "You have so many people, Buck. You have -."

"I don't want emotional repression Tommy here, so if you're just here to keep me distracted until someone else can be here you should just... go."

Something flashes in his gaze. Anger, maybe. Terror.

"Please let me stay."

It hurts, to hear it. It hurts to hear the trepidation in his voice as he says it. Buck just wants to pull him in, tuck his face into the curve of his neck, soak in the warmth of his arms.

Buck spends too long staring at his knees. Long enough for Tommy to shift, to sigh, to nod his head decisively out of the corner of Buck's eye.

The word is stuck in his throat. Has been for months, since Tommy looked at him with teary eyes and walked away.

"I won't be able to let you go again."

He's already half turned away. Buck can only see half his expression as his eyes dip closed. He swallows. Nods, again.

Buck can't watch him push back through that door, so he stares at the toes of his boots until his vision starts to blur.

A second pair of toes swim into his eyeline. A hand shifts through his curls, snagging on knots, digging towards his scalp, and he can't quite bite back the sob. The arms that reach for him are warm, big and familiar, and Buck gives himself over to the panic and the fear that have been clawing at his chest for hours now. Tommy says something - whispers it into the air above Buck's head over and over, but Buck can't - he just -

He presses his face into Tommy's stomach, digs his fingers into the back of his shirt, sucks in horrible, gasping breaths. It's not enough. Nothing will be until he's got Maddie in his arms.

But it's more than he had an hour ago.

"Stay," he manages, and Tommy's fingers curl around Buck's neck and hold.

[hanniebaeee]

The Ex

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of injury

Genre: exes to lovers, fluffffff

Summary: Your ex, Hyunjin, calls you at midnight, injured and freaked out. The fact that you're still in love with him may be a problem. Or not.

Your break-up with Hyunjin had been a literal storm. Tear-soaked, heartbreaking, and both of you still so much in love that it hurt beyond words could explain. You didn't understand how it came to it, actually. Watching him walk away was the hardest thing you've ever had to do, and that's an image you can't get off your mind. No matter how hard you try.

You tried to delete his number, unfollow him literally everywhere, and move on with your life. But it was easier said than done. That's why when his number flashes on your phone screen, you freeze.

You almost ignore it. Almost. But something inside you won't let you, and here you are, answering his call.

“Hyunjin?”

There’s a weird silence on his side. You haven't heard his voice since you broke up a couple of months ago, and the anticipation is killing you.

You're starting to think that he made a mistake, when you hear his breath on the other line - heavy and desperate.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin’s voice is shaky, and you sit upright, your heart in your throat.

“Hyunjin? What’s going on?” you ask, ready to run. “Are you ok?”

“I’m at - at the hospital,” he chokes out.

“What? What happened?!” you ask, fear starting to grip you.

“I fell…I was going down some stairs, trying to carry all my art supplies - don’t ask, it’s a long story. But I tripped and fell down the stairs, and my foot, it’s swelling up. It hurts like hell, Y/N, I’m so scared-” His voice breaks, and he takes in a shaky breath. “Someone dropped me here, and I don’t - I don’t even know anyone in this city.”

Your heart sinks, imagining him sitting there, hurt and scared and…alone. You know you should feel nothing for him. Maybe a bit of concern, but nothing else. He's your ex.

But no, that isn’t how your heart works. This is Hyunjin, it says, the guy you spent way too many sleepless nights with, the guy you had to claw out of your chest when you broke up.

“Hello? Y/N?” Hyunjin sounds like a lost little child, his little sobs gripping at your poor heart.

“Hyunjin, take a breath. Oh my God. Stop crying, baby, I’m on my way, okay? I-” You freeze, closing your eyes, cursing yourself for the slip.

You called him baby?!

A beat of silence. You can hear Hyunjin sniffling on the other side, and you panic.

“Oh, uh, I'm sorry, I didn’t mean-” you stutter, before quickly saying, “I'll see you soon.”

You hang up before he can reply, embarrassment coursing through you. You sit on your couch cringing and feeling terrible. Taking a deep breath, you reach for your phone again. You need backup and there’s only one person who can handle Hyunjin like you do.

So, with shaking fingers, you dial Changbin's number, as you make your way to your bedroom. Changbin picks up after about two rings, and says, “Hey babe, you good?”

“I'm not sure, Bin. Hyunjin called me…he’s hurt. He’s at the hospital, and he’s-” You fall silent as you hear Changbin sigh.

You can tell he’s running his hand through his hair the way he always does when he’s dealing with one of your ‘Hyunjin’ emergencies.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll go,” he says, but you both know you’re not going to let him go alone.

“Yeah, no. I’m coming with you. I can’t just sit here while he’s hurt,” you argue, already pulling on a jumper over your t-shirt.

“You’re crazy for doing this, you know that?” Changbin says.

“Yeah, what's new?” you mutter, pulling your jeans on, and then your shoes.

“Alright,” Changbin sighs, but you could hear the smile in his voice. “Let’s go pick up our delicate flower.”

He's over at yours in record time, and gives you an unimpressed look.

“Binnie, not now!” You say as you both get into his car.

The drive is only about an hour, but it feels like hours. You try not to think of the last time you made this journey. It ended up with you coming back alone and so broken. Now, you sit in silence, Changbin can feel you unraveling.

He shoots you a look and asks, “You okay?”

You let out a hollow laugh.

“I mean, my ex, with whom I’m still kind of in love with, is in the hospital. So, I guess I’m as fine as I can be.”

“Kind of? Who are you kidding?” Changbin raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Ok, shut up.” you mumble, cheeks burning and you look away, hoping he'll leave it alone.

But he just laughs, putting his hand on yours.

“I get it, ok? You’re a good person for doing this, Y/N.” he says softly, and you feel a tear prickle at the corner of your eye.

You blink it back, trying your best to hold it together.

“He must have moved on, right?” you say, fidgeting with the hem of your jacket.

“If you're talking about Hwang Hyunjin, I can assure you that he’s still head over heels for you, even if he won’t admit it.”

You manage a small smile at that and say, “You think?”

“No, I know,” Changbin says, smiling, “He wouldn’t have called you if he wasn't. You’re still the only person who can get through to him.”

“I’m so lucky to have you, you know that?” You say, squeezing his hand.

“You are,” he agrees, flashing you a cocky smirk. “And you’re welcome. Now, let’s go remind Hyunjin that he’s not a fragile old man on his deathbed.”

By the time you finally get to the hospital, your nerves are buzzing. You walk in with Changbin by your side, his hand a steady presence at your back.

And there he is, slumped in a chair with his injured foot propped up, wearing a miserable, pouty expression, and it's so adorable, it crushes you almost immediately.

When his eyes land on you, they light up and he's reaching out to you.

“You came!” His voice cracks, and you hate that it makes your heart flutter.

He takes your hand in his and presses his cheek to it, and holds onto you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “You actually came?”

You’re still mad at yourself for caring this much, but you don't regret anything. Not after seeing him like this.

“Yeah, you idiot. Of course I did.” you say gently, sitting near him.

He looks away, probably trying to hide his tears, and mutters, “I thought you’d never want to see me again.”

You’re about to reply when Changbin clears his throat.

“Hello to you too Hyunjin. Oh, how am I? I'm good!” He says dryly, making you laugh.

Hyunjin narrows his eyes at Changbin, rolling them even though he’s still clutching your hand.

“I knew she'll call you, I just-” Hyunjin tries, but Changbin snorts in response.

“You're sneaky little-” Changbin begins but a nurse comes over and says that Hyunjin’s doctor has taken a look at his x-rays and wants to talk to him.

Changbin helps him into the wheelchair and you all move into the examination room where the doctor tells him that it's a sprain, and he'll have to rest his foot for sometime.

Once outside, Changbin tells him, “No more carrying your entire art studio down the stairs.”

“Hey, I didn't have anyone to help me!” Hyunjin says.

“I wonder who's fault it is!” Changbin shoots back, and Hyunjin pouts, crossing his arms against his chest, as you bite back a laugh.

You all sit at the waiting area, wondering what to do next. As you look at Hyunjin, all the messy feelings you’ve buried rush to the surface. You know it’s stupid, probably really reckless, but you can't help it. You love this man so damn much.

Hyunjin sniffles, studying the bandage on his foot before looking at you.

“Are you ok?” You ask, seeing how tired he looked.

“When I fell, I was so scared…I thought I would die…like my entire life flashed before my eyes. It was horrible,” he says. “And, all I felt was regret. I… I was an idiot. I should have fought for us.”

His words are definitely pulling at your heartstrings. Your eyes meet Changbin's, sitting on Hyunjin’s other side. He raises his eyebrows, knowing exactly where this is going. Before you can say anything, Hyunjin is leaning into you, his fingers intertwined with yours.

“I won’t survive a single day without you,” he whispers. “I mean, look at me. You left me, and here I am - falling down stairs, breaking bones-”

“It's a sprain, Hyunjin,” You remind him with a smile.

“But it feels broken. I feel broken…without you…”

“Jinnie-” You start, not knowing what exactly to say to him.

Your heart twists painfully. You don't know if this is a good idea, but that doesn't stop you from wanting him.

“Before you two start making out in front of me, I’m gonna go get some coffee,” Changbin's voice cuts in.

Hyunjin grins, cupping your cheek with his hand. He ignores Changbin completely, and says, “If you'll have me, I promise to never let you go. I promise I'll be good.”

And before you can stop yourself, you lean in, pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. He's pulling you closer, kissing you deeper, but you put a hand to his chest, gently pushing him back. You are still at the hospital, and people are starting to notice.

When Changbin returns, you both carefully put Hyunjin in the backseat. He grabs hold of your hand as you're about to shut the door, and wants you to sit with him.

He clings onto you the entire drive home, sneaking kisses - so many kisses. And also persuades you to spend the night at Changbin's, so you end up cuddling him to sleep.

And you sleep peacefully for the first time since your break up.

[darnell-la]

just imagine logan as a lone wolf who lives in a cabin in the middle of the forest and maybe the reader is just an ordinary girl (maybe shes a farmer or a gardener) that lives behind the forest and she needs to cross the path along the forest every day to go home, it goes down to rain and she gets lost, and finds logans cabin.

Then she looks at logan for the first time and its just love at first sight.

Well maybe lust, but also love.

note: Logan lives far from civilization in this story, so you can imagine when a young lady, the only person he sees daily, accidentally steps too far into his property wet and dirty. He can’t help but invite her in and pray for the best.

———

Y/n had been running through the woods for what felt like hours, eyes constantly getting rain in them as her shoes soaked. She could barely feel her feet, and her clothes were drenched.

“Oh my god,” y/n said, coming across Mister Howlett’s house, a man she’d never seen but had heard of. One part of her was happy seeing the house, knowing she had gone the right way, but the other half still hurt her head. She has ten or so minutes of running and no walking.

Y/n walked in front of the house, about to pass until an alarm went off, almost scaring her out of her shoes.

Lights flashed on the young lady as she heard rustling coming from inside the house. “Goddamnit,” she cussed under her breath, realizing she had stepped too far into the man’s property. She never does, but it’s raining hard tonight, and she can barely see.

“Who the fuck is on my property!?” A man asked, voice sounding a bit different than an average male. “I-I’m sorry, I-I always walk this way, I just walked a bit too far into the grass. I-It’s raining heavy out here,” she said, loud enough for him to hear her over the rain.

Logan walked past the frame of his front door, revealing the shotgun he had in hand. At first, she was terrified, but her mind instantly forgot about the weapon in his hands as her eyes scanned the rest of his body.

“I see,” the man said, scanning the young lady. He wore thick blue jeans, with a beat-up heavy belt, and his tank top was white and dirty. Y/n on the other hand had an amazing outfit. A fluffy skirt with an uptight crop top.

Of course, all of it was drenched, but the man had seen how good she looked earlier today, like every day. He never gets a good look at her, but the consistency of her going to work or whatever she did every day, seemed to rub Logan the right way.

“C’mon in — Let the weather cool down a bit,” Logan suggested, tone still unfriendly, but she understood she could’ve woken him up. “Oh, uh- Thank you,” she said as she approached his doorstep.

Once the two met eyes, it was almost like everything from then was in slow motion. The way they blinked, how slow they stepped, when he talked, telling her to take her shoes off for him to dry, and when he locked his front door.

“So — What do you do exactly?” Y/n asked as she shifted on his couch to look at him who was at the end of the same couch she was sitting on. He never sits on the long couch, but tonight, he felt like it.

“Chop wood, give to the community, fix up the land, and cook,” he said before taking a sip of the whiskey he had poured and offered her, but she told him she wasn’t a drinker.

“Sounds like a lot of work,” she said, making him chuckle. “Maybe for you, princess,” the man said with a look over his reading glasses before he looked back down at the newspaper he was reading.

“I work hard — Just in other ways,” she smiled. “And what is it you do, Bub?” The man asked, now placing the newspaper down to listen. He was interested. He didn’t know why, but he was.

“I write online books and sell clothes. These! I made myself. Hope I can dry them without it messing up,” she said as she tugged on her clothes. “You made that?” He asked, slightly surprised.

“Mhm hm — Took a while, but I got through,” she smiled. “Maybe I can dry it. I mean, I don’t think the rain’s gonna slow down anytime soon, so you can just stay here until they air dry in my basement,” he offered.

“You can take my bed. It’s clean, and my room has a lock if it makes you uncomfortable that a man’s in the house,”

Y/n stayed silent, thinking to herself. It didn’t seem like too much of a bad idea. She didn’t know the man, but he was a neighbor. She passes his house all the time, and she’s sure he’s seen her before.

“I’ll stay,” she said, making Logan huff out a breath he didn’t know he was keeping in. “Let’s head upstairs. It’s late, and I was going to close up down here anyway,”

Logan had shown y/n to his room, telling her she could make herself at home as he pulled out a shirt she could wear to bed.

“When you wake up, I’ll have your clothes in front of the door, alright?” He asked. “Okay, uh- I know I’m asking for a lot now, but is it possible to take a shower?” She asked.

Logan looked at her body, almost forgetting she wasn’t clean. Her legs had mud in them, her skin was wet, and her hair had branches in leaves in them. He had ignored all of that before. He hadn’t cared what she looked like. She looked pretty no matter what.

“Of course,” the man said before he went into his closet to grab a towel. “You can use my bedroom bathroom. It’s clean too,” he said, making sure she didn’t feel uncomfortable.

“Thank you for this all. I’ll repay you someday,” she looked up at him as he gave her a towel. “You don’t have to. I would never leave a pretty girl in the dark,” y/n giggled at his response, happy she knew he thought she was pretty.

“Hey, Bub, I almost forgot to give you some soap. Those in there are a bit strong smellin, so I’ve got some normal scents for ya,”

Logan knocked on the door bathroom door a few minutes after the had started the shower. “Oh my, thank you!” Y/n said as she hopped out of the tub and slightly opened the door, covering anything that could be seen.

“Of course, princ-“ the man had cut himself off as he looked behind her, seeing her figure in the mirror. “What's wrong?” Y/n asked as she followed his eyes, looking behind him before she let out a scream.

“Oh my god!” The main tried covering herself up as the door slowly opened. Logan wanted to look away, but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the younger woman.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Y/n said, covering as much as she could as she looked up at him. “It ain’t like Ian seen a naked woman before, Bub,” Logan said. Y/n let out a sigh, knowing a man who looked like him had definitely seen enough naked women to not feel disgusted or anything by her.

“Okay, okay,” she caught her breath, still covering herself up as Logan stood in the door frame, scanning her body. Her wet skin which wasn’t completely clean yet, made him feel a type of way. She made him feel a type of way, but he wanted to be respectful.

“I’ll leave you to it, princess,” Logan said before he went to turn around, but y/n stopped him. “Wait!” She said. “I-I need the soap,” she spoke low, making him realize he never exchanged it with her.

“Oh, shit- Yeah, yeah,” Logan said as he handed the bottle to the young lady. Y/n grabbed it, pulling at it so she could take a shower and ignore how embarrassed he was, but he kept a grip on the bottle.

He had no idea what he was doing, but he wanted to see what she would do.

“Is something wrong, Mister Howlett?” She asked. He loved the way his name rolled off of her lips. He never thought he’d love his last name more. What was this random girl doing to him?

“Yeah, it’s just- I don’t know,” he said, making her smile slightly. “I-If you wanna join me, you can. You know, to save water?” She suggested, surprising the man. She even surprised herself.

“You sure, Bub?” The man wanted to make sure he hadn’t been dreaming all night. “Yes-“ Before she could finish, the man threw the soap bottle to the side, grabbed the woman by her face, and pulled her into a rough passionate kiss, making sure his tongue slipped right in.

Y/n instantly maimed in his mouth at the aggression. He gave back a groan as he picked her up and placed her on the wooden sink counter.

Logan ripped his white tank top off before pulling his jeans down, revealing the hard-on he had since he saw her outside in the rain.

“Got me so fuckin’ hard, Bub. Don’t know why,” he said, making her giggle. “Maybe because I’m pretty?” She suggested, making him laugh. “That’s definitely one reason, Bub,”

Logan spat on his fingers before wiping the across her cunt which was already leaking. “Fuck,” y/n cussed under her breath as her body hitched.

“Mhm, potty mouth,” she said with a smile before he licked his fingers, tasting the mess he had just wiped across. “Fuck, you taste good,”

Logan put his cock in hand before lining up. When he pushed at her entrance, she instantly tightened around him. “Fuck,” Logan groaned, hands gripping the sides of her ass to pull her into him.

“Oh my god,” y/n cried out as his length buried inside of her completely. “Fuck, yes,” the man huffed out as he rested his head on her shoulder. “Ian gonna last,” he admitted, slightly embarrassed, but she loved it.

“Good — Makes me know you like me back,” she said. The man chuckled against her skin, moving his face until his slips were on her neck. “You gonna take it all?” He asked, kissing along her neck with a few nibbles.

“Yes, Mister Howlett,” she said. “C’mon, Bub — Ian that old,” he chuckled as he moved his hips, slowly thrusting into the woman to take in his good or felt, the way she gripped him.

“I like them old,” she admitted. “Oh, really? Is that why you’re so wet right now? Because you’re working my cock so fuckin’ much,” the man said in her ear, making her whine.

“Yes — Yes, that's why,” she admitted again. “Well luckin’ me,” Logan snapped his hips, getting ready to spill deep into her.

“P-Please cum in me,” she begged as she wrapped her legs around his waist, making sure he knew she really wanted it. She needed it.

“Wasn’t gonna do it any else were, Bub,”

[wrr000]

"Small gestures"

The Destined One x reader - headcanons about communication +really short oneshot at the end

Notes: it's basically @szynkaaa idea!!!!!!!!!!!! go and check their blog NOW!!!!!!!!!!! i'm currently working on another headcanons with the destined one and more serious oneshot, hope y'all will enjoy this

Warnings: fluff, kinda fanon the destined one? english is not my first language so i will prob make some changes later! i also exaggerated the situation in oneshot for the fluff, forgive me

travelling with silent destined one was difficult, but soon you realized that sometimes gestures can express more than words

at first it was hard to communicate, this barrier seemed insurmountable to you

but you quickly noticed that he wasn't trying to push you away or left you behind because of it, no - he tired to show you with small gestures that he actually cared

it started with slowing down a little so you could catch up or glancing at you to make sure you were still walking next to him

gently poking you with his hand or tugging your clothes to get your attention

stretching his arm to prevent you from walking further and signaling you to hide behind him. he always made the same gesture then

finding you a safe spot to hide when he knew a tough fight was coming

when an enemy apeared unexpectedly and you were in the middle of the fight, he bought you some time to escape somewhere safe

grabbing you by forearm to make sure you didn't get hurt (you have to tell him several times that you're fine, boy is worried)

all these little things made you understand him more and at some point you learned how to read his body language, gestures and face expressions; scratching his ear when impatient or confused, characteristically touching his nose when he's thinking and all those kind of things

you just knew what he wanted to say (but couldn't)

during this time, you didn't even notice how much you were getting closer and how much you cared for each other

he never made you feel like a burden and you always tried to help him as much as you can

you could talk to him about anything and he would listen to you carefully, making sure you feel comfortable

the destined one never would have thought that he would meet someone like you(and fall in love) during his journey

of course it isn't a flawless relationship because it's still a cheeky monkey that cannot stand 5 seconds without getting into a fight, but it's a story for another time

---

Leaving that cursed land of rats was something you had been waiting for a long time. Almost from the moment you arrived there. Sandstorms were hard to survive, let alone the mad rat king and his two sons. However, you quickly missed the sandy landscapes, because the next stop was a land covered with ice.

Journey to the next Relic wasn't easy. The snow was falling heavily, limiting your vision. The horizon disappeared, you could only see The Destined One figure forcing his way through the high layer of snow. You felt that your shoes were already soaked along with the lower part of your clothes.

Even though you were following the path beaten by your companion, you were moving slowly. You sighed heavily at the thought that you probably still had a long way to go and you could only dream about a break. How nice it would be to sit by the fire and warm yourself. Suddenly various memories started coming back to haunt you here, in the middle of nowhere.

You were pulled out from your thoughts by the familiar warmth. You looked to your left and met his shining eyes, staring into your red face. The Destined One was standing next to you, wrapping his arm around you. A slight smile appeared on his face.

"Sorry", you said quietly. "I'm slowing us down"

But he just shook his head as if he wanted to say that you were talking nonsense. With a firm move, he pulled you closer to him. Your bodies touched even more, you felt a pleasant warmth radiating from him. His hot breath spread across your frozen place. Even know you could feel his unique, but nice scent.

He noticed your tiredness and how chilly you were. You had been shivering from the cold for a while now. He wished he had something to cover you with, but all he could offer was his arm. You appreciated his concern and looking out for you. That alone made you not feel so poorly anymore.

"Thank you, much better now", you said with a smile. "We can go"

He nodded, clealry pleased with the answer. You to were walking together now, hugging each other. The road didn't seem so hard anymore and the snow slowly stopped failing. The horizon became clearer, revealing hugh mountains and old temples. You finally felt like you had made progress. Previous difficulties became only unpleasant memories.

The closer you got, the more the weather was getting better. It was still snowing, but it wasn't even that cold anymore. And yet you still walked together, hugged to each other, neither of you thinking about pulling away. While admiring the views, you told him some old story from your childhood about a hard winter in your village. When you weren't looking, he was admiring you in silence, enjoying the moment.

[soap-ify]

can you do a smut to fluff comfort where simon is overstimulating them and being super degrading and they safeword? Then Simon takes care of them and is basically just super sweet.

this has been sitting in my inbox for so long :( so sorry anon i hope you like it!!

cw — smut at first, degradation, use of safeword, gentle aftercare and lots of comfort.

simon had been frustrated that day, very frustrated after coming back from work. and you felt like trying something new for him.

“fucking slag… look at you takin’ this cock so well.” he spat bitterly, his girthy cock mercilessly ploughing into your tight cunt, his hands gripping your hips in a hard and bruising manner. “too dumb to even speak now, eh? only good for takin’ some cock.”

he had asked you so sweetly at first, if he could take his frustrations out on you, and you had agreed because you wanted to please your boyfriend so badly. plus some crappy porno made you think that rough sex can be amazing. silly reason, yeah.

but right now, all those insults spewing out of his mouth seemed genuine and scary, messing up with your head while your body was all sensitive from already orgasming a few times before. it was overwhelming, too overwhelming — and you knew that if you don’t speak up now, you’ll break down horribly anytime soon.

but god, you felt so guilty. you were supposed to be relaxing him, not turning it onto yourself.

“r-red…!” you managed to choke out, tears sliding down your cheeks as your fingers digged into his shoulder blades, causing simon to halt almost immediately.

“what?” his voice was gruff, eyes still a bit glossy from fucking you, though his grip had loosened significantly and worry was soon blooming onto his face.

“red…” you repeated weekly, lips wobbling as you quickly looked away, not wanting him to look at you crying over something like this.

simon gently eased himself out of you and rolled by your side, his calloused hands cradling your face. “oh, love… did i hurt you? was it too much?” he may have been sounding concerned and still reserved though he was internally panicking inside, wanting to rip and beat some sense into himself.

“yes,” you sniffled and nodded, your hands trembling as you leaned into his embrace, soft pants leaving your lips. “too rough..”

“fuck, m’sorry. so sorry, love. got carried away for a second, i-” he paused, his heart aching terribly with guilt and concern as he saw your face all soaked with tears. it soon dawned on him how mean he was being, even if you had agreed to it. he should’ve known that you were probably not used to this, maybe not even into it.

he slowly got up from the bed and helped you off the bed, his burly arms supporting you. he took you over to the bathroom and soon ran a warm bath for you, helping you sit in the bathtub, your little winces making his heart sink.

“i didn’t mean any of those words, y’know…” he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead, his fingers gently caressing your head.

“i know…” you sniffled and smiled up at him sheepishly. “maybe i’m too soft for all that.”

simon sighed softly and sat by the edge of the bathtub, not caring about himself at all right now. all of his focus was solely on you, helping you clean yourself and dry up once you were done, dressing you in some comfortable pajamas.

once he came back after cleaning himself up, he sat down on the edge of the bed and looked over at you, his once stern brown eyes now soft with love and pain. “i’m so sorry, i mean it…”

“don’t apologise, si…” you gently wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands supporting your hips as he carefully propped you on top of him once he laid down, caressing your lower back.

“i love you… never wanna hurt you, y’know. m’so proud of you for speakin’ the safeword. so proud of you.” he smothered your head with chaste kisses, his breath caressing your skin.

“i love you too…” you mumbled softly, exhaustion soon taking over you. you let his heartbeat lull you into sleep alongside his soft murmurs, feeling safe once again.

[jammiee097]

Darling?

Summary: Your boyfriend sended some photo's out of nowhere, only for him to find you in his bed... Naked

Warnings: Fingering, punishment (basically just spank!ng), Boyfr!end Chan x reader, V!brator, p in v, Walking in on..,

Enjoy! 🩷

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

The noise of your vibrator under the coats was the only thing heard in the room, until it finally started working on your clit, imaging it was your boyfriends tongue.

it was supposed to be a calm evening, going early to bed because of the long day on work. just to lay in bed, watching one of your favorite series. Just cozy, but now the thea on your night desk was getting cold.

It was Chan who sended two pictures of him sitting in the car on his way to your apartment. at first sight they looked like normal photos, but you looked closer knowing there was a hidden suprise. something he always did in his photo's, just to tease you a little.

You could see his hand on his pants, his pants revealing the print of his hard dick. When you mentioned it, he sended you a video of him jerking off, sounds clear, his moans clear.

that sent you off, that one specific cry he did just before he came in the video was the one that made you decide to get your vibrator out of the closet and use on yourself.

Listening to his audio on repeat, the video never stopping, all just so you'll get off.

little did you know that he had entered your appartment earlier than you thought he would. He would get a litttle worried when he heard a guy moan, only to find out a second later it was his video. he chuckled and walked over to were the sound was coming out off. The door slightly closed.

He peaked through the door and saw you, arching your back to his moans, your moans sounding a little louder than usual, his name leaving your lips in almost each whimper you made.

His dick got hard in seconds, seeing you like this made him fill with dark lust. he wanted to open the door and take you there on the bed, so hard and rough you would be beginning for him to slow down. but you and him would both get hurt.

"Darling?" He says slightly opening the door. Shock in your eyes you would turn off the vibrator and look at him, standing in the doorframe. "Oh my god." You'd say, his video still playing in the background. Chan smirked walking towards the bed, putting your phone away.

He through open the blanket you were under to find your body, naked. Only a little white bra and your panties around your ankles, your pussy soaking wet, dripping it on the sheets.

"Tsk Tsk Tsk" He said being disapproved. "Couldn't wait until I got home?" He said his fingers tracing from your stomach to your pussy. His finger slowly teasing your clit, making little circles. "Baby.." You whisper and he smiled. he always loved how weak you were for him.

"I wanted to fuck you so good.." he began, "Guess that would be for some other time." He whispered, leaving a kiss on your neck. He walked away only for you to get him back. "Please.. Chan.. Please" You desperately said. "I- I want to feel you.." You said.

That send him off, He grabbed your cheek, aggressively placing his lips on yours. He would tower of you his knees locking yours together. He putted of his shirt, revealing little bruises from the other times you two fucked two days. His tongue would go crazy in your mouth. this whole day he wanted you nothing more. Moans coming from both of you, making the kiss more spicy.

"Fuck baby, what do you do to me." He whispers, a shiver going down your back. "Always so shivery." He whispers again, attacking your neck with sloppy kisses. His hands placed on your waist, lowering his kisses to your breasts, stomach. He stops before he reached your cunt. He wanted to eat you out for sure, but not now, not yet.

He would lower his pants and boxers, his hard dick jumping against his lower stomach, wanting to feel your tight pussy so much. He'd tease your so desperate pussy with just his dick going over your clit. "Please chan.." You whimper.

He fill you up, receiving both moans out of you two. He wanted to hump fast into you, but he needed to please you too, he needed to please you too. His hands on your waist, pumping inside of you, slowly. "Need me to go faster?" He said, his hands squeezing your waist in need. "Yes." You moan. He goes a little faster pushing you onto his dick. "Fuck baby.. You feel.. so good" He says, wanting to drift of to heaven. finally feeling your pussy after such a long day.

The same you felt, after so many horrible clients and irritating colleagues you wanted to feel him more then ever. Your hands getting on his biceps, squeezing them, your nails pushing into his skin. Making him whimper more, making him cry more, making him wanting you more.

"You're so pretty mhm.. my pretty fuck toy.. Mhm.. My.. pretty... princess" He moaned, pushing deep into you at the last words. You arch your back at those movements. His thumb finding your clit, going rough on it. "You gonna cum for me, mhm, gonna cum for your boyfriend." He says. His huffs and puffs sending you off to heaven. "Gonna.. Gonna." You start. "Say it baby.." He says going faster. "Cum, im gonna cum." You say. "Me too darling, hold on.. a little.. Longer" He moans.

After a few more trusts you came onto his dick, your pussy tighting around his dick, making him cum. The most arousing sounds a human could make comming from his lips.

He falls next to you on the bed, pulling you into a cuddle. "I love you baby." He whispers just before you fall asleep in his arms.

[crookedteethed]

18+ Domestic violence, toxic!Rafe, slight smut (not cute), manipulation

⋆ ★The first time Toxic!Rafe put his hands on you.

"Baby--" Rafe hands had tried to graze your tear-soaked face, but your body had flinched away from it, causing your boyfriend to grit his teeth in saturated anger. 

"Baby, look, I made a mistake--I was angry--" 

"And that makes it okay?" you sniffed, cradled in a ball in the same spot where, not too long ago, your boyfriend's ring-clad hand met the skin of your plush cheek. 

Though moments had passed, you'd still felt the sting from when the metallic of his Signet Ring pierced your skin, and if you weren't so ashamed to look yourself in the mirror right now, you could tell if the thick metal had left a mark. 

But it's not like you needed a mirror to see if Rafe had left a mark; you felt it when you brought your shaky fingers to your cheek and felt a crescent-like shape indented into your skin. 

"Baby, please look at me." Rafe cooed, his fingers forcefully cradling your jaw to look at him, and because you were scared he might hurt you again, you let him. 

But you didn't give him all the satisfaction, as you didn't make eye contact with him--as you were scared you would start to see him differently. 

"Baby, you have to realize that you have as much part in this as I do." He said, causing you to look him in the eyes finally. 

You'd realized that Rafe had been teary-eyed as well--his cerulean eyes glossy like a baby kitten--as if it were he who'd been slapped and not you. 

"W-what?" you croaked. 

"I mean, you, you were the one that kept calling me crazy." He said, picking up your limp body in bridal style and placing you on his lap on the edge of his bed. 

And in the moment, it only felt right for you to wrap your arm behind his shoulder--for support--while he held onto your waist. 

"You--you kept saying that it was something wrong with me and that--that it was 'no since in arguing with a crazy person.' That's what you said." 

Rafe repeated your words from earlier, his pointer finger digging into your chest. 

Well, you thought. 

You did tell Rafe that he was crazy, intentionally knowing that he suspected something may have been wrong with him in the past. 

"Do you remember what else you said to me?" Rafe asked you, adjusting your body to where you were closer to his face. 

You nodded your head--ashamed--just as Rafe went to repeat your words. 

"You also said that--that I was fucked in the head, and that's the reason why Ward wants nothing to do with me. Do you remember when you said that, Y/N?"

You nodded again, covering your teary eyes with your hands, but Rafe pried your hands away--it's almost like he found joy in humiliating you. 

But you hit me, said the small voice in your head. 

No matter what you had said to Rafe, it was never worth putting his hands on you. Ever.

In the heat of the moment, you and Rafe had both sought to hurt one another, but the difference was that Rafe had intentionally sought to make you hurt physically. 

"You know shit like that always get me worked up--it's like my biggest--whats that word?" He thinks. 

"Insecurity?" You asked. 

Rafe snaps. "Yeah, that! It's my biggest insecurity." 

But on the other hand, you did know at the moment that mentioning Ward's name would piss off Rafe. Otherwise, you wouldn't have said anything. 

You brought your head to Rafe's shoulder, letting his muscular body engulf your shape. 

"Lemme see your cheek." 

Rafe brought the palm of his hand to your cheek once more to examine your slightly bruised skin, this time handling you with much more care than before. 

"Does it hurt, baby?" He asked, eyeing the skin. 

"t'stings" you groaned, and Rafe brought his plush lips to the area where your cheek had been indented and pecked it. 

"We'll get you some Naproxen--make the pain and swelling go away." He said all the while his hand was swiping the meat of your thigh. 

He kisses your cheek again. "I know one thing though, my girl's a champ for taking a hit like that, I don't think I would've been able to take a hit like that on my first time--even now--and I've taken a shit ton of hits." 

Another thing to add is that you knew that Rafe was no stranger to getting hit as punishment- his father was the one to introduce him to this system. Could you really blame Rafe for reacting in a way that was all he had known? 

At this point, Rafe's hand had been snaking its way underneath your skirt, his fingers tempting the hem of your panties. 

"My girl so tough." Rafe praised.

The context had been fucked up, but his overall wording and his tone had undeniably made your clit twitch--that, and his fingers peeling into your underwear and his palm cupping your cunt. 

"My girl forgives me, right?" Rafe asked you, looking at you with those love-sick puppy dog eyes as he slipped one of his digits into your tight hole.

And just as he added a second finger inside of you and started slowly pumping in and out of you--your forgiveness for Rafe had been caught in a moan. 

But Rafe already knew you had forgiven him, his proof being your sweet releases that coated his fingers and lap. 

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ ITboyfriend!jungkook (5)⋆𐙚₊˚⊹*nsfw*

series m.list // taglist request closed

note: surprise! a written... also,, the end. hehehehee. enjoy <3

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

//

the door swings open just as you raise your hand to knock.

jungkook stands there, eyes wide, completely still. he was on his way to you. the minute you sent that text, he was more than ready to go through war to get you back. rain pours behind you in sheets, soaking through your clothes, but you barely feel it. how could you? all you can feel is your heart racing and how good it is to see him again.

before he can say a word, you take a shaky breath and let it out.

"marry me."

jungkook’s heart skips a beat.

for a moment, he’s not sure he heard you right. the rain is pounding so hard it feels like it’s muffling everything else. but the look on your face—it’s raw, desperate—there’s no mistaking what you said.

"w-what?"

"i did everything they wanted me to," you blurt out, the words coming faster now, like you’ve been holding them back for too long. "i studied the major they chose. i graduated like they wanted. but i can't... i can't leave you." your voice cracks, your hands trembling as they curl into fists at your sides.

the weight of everything you’ve been carrying is finally crashing down on you. jungkook stands there, rooted in place, his heart pounding as your words hit him like a freight train.

"they told me to break up with you. they said i couldn’t have both���you or them. i had to pick." you swallow hard, your voice rising with emotion. "they think you distracted me, that i never chose them over you. they hated it... they hated that i loved you more. they wanted me to walk away, said i’d never be successful if i stayed with you, that you were either too good to be true for me, or i'd live the rest of my life behind you and your success. i was scared. so, i listened... i listened, and i broke things off. but jungkook—"

your voice shakes, your eyes glistening, "i’ve never felt loved by them the way i feel loved by you."

his heart clenches, the guilt and confusion swelling in his chest as he processes the weight of your words.

"i did everything right. i raised my siblings, i paid for my school, i got all the scholarships for a degree they chose that i don’t even give a rats ass about..." your voice is shaking, raw with emotion, "there's so many things in this life i don't know what to do about—but one thing’s for sure... you're it, jungkook. i love you."

"___—"

"and they didn’t understand,” you huff. “so i left."

jungkook feels like the ground is shifting beneath him, part of him relieved that you’ve come back, but the other part devastated knowing how much you sacrificed.

"you… left?" he asks softly, his voice barely audible over the rain.

"i left," you say again, firmer this time, though your eyes are still pleading, still searching his face for some sign of hope. "i'm so tired of choosing between you and them... and it fucking pisses me off because it's not entirely about you, you know? it's about me, too. and i... i can't do this—not without you."

jungkook stands there, stunned, trying to process everything. part of him is relieved—he’s wanted you back, has missed you so deeply it hurt—but another part of him is consumed with guilt. you were drowning under your family’s pressure, and he let you go, thinking it was for the best.

he steps forward, reaching out to you. "come inside," he says softly, his hand brushing your arm. "let’s talk about this—"

but you shake your head, cutting him off, your voice trembling but fierce.

"no," you refuse. "not until you say you'll marry me. i need to know that i'm choosing right and that i put everything between my family and i at risk because you love me enough to—fuck. jungkook, i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to put you down. if anything, you’re the only thing i held on to.”

your voice shakes.

then, a sob escapes your lips.

"f-fuck," you begin to cry. "jungkook, you are the only one who has ever made me feel like i'm enough."

jungkook’s breath catches, but there’s no hesitation in his eyes.

instead, a soft, almost relieved smile breaks across his face as he steps closer. his hands gently cupping your face, brushing away the wet strands of hair sticking to your cheeks.

"why couldn't you wait another hour?" he asks, voice low but steady, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. "i was gonna propose to you."

you attempt to smile. hitting his chest lightly, you pout.

“you propose like every month."

he leans his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your cold skin.

“yeah, i know," he whispers, his smile widening, "so fine. i guess i’ll marry you... since you're crying in the rain and everything—"

you let out a shaky breath, and hit him again. he laughs and crashes his lips onto yours, instantly feeling the weight of the past months finally lift.

in that moment, everything feels right.

... because it is.

jungkook can’t get enough of you.

as you two tumble together in his bed, both of you still damp from the rain, his hands roam your body like they’ve been starved for too long. the past few months had been an agonizing stretch of absence, where all he had were fleeting memories and pictures—poor substitutes for the real thing.

and he knew it.

nothing beats this.

nothing compares to feeling your skin under his fingertips, the way your breath hitches when his lips brush the curve of your neck.

you bite his bottom lip playfully, pulling away just enough to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling quickly as you look at him with a glimmer in your eyes.

"your room is really clean," you murmur, the softest trace of a smile curling your lips. "were you expecting me over?"

jungkook snickers, a teasing glint flashing in his eyes. "my room is always clean," he quips, his hands still running up and down your back, savoring every inch of you.

you roll your eyes dramatically, propping yourself up on your elbows as you hover over him.

“this is exactly why my parents think you're too good for me."

the lightheartedness in your tone doesn’t sit right with him. jungkook’s face falls, his expression shifting as he shakes his head, not loving how quickly you’re turning the weight of the situation into a joke. his brows knit together, the tension in the air palpable.

“don't say that," he mutters quietly, a hint of frustration in his voice, but mostly concern. "you know that’s not true."

you shrug, but your sigh betrays the heaviness that lingers in your chest. the momentary playfulness drains from your face as the gravity of everything settles between you again.

he gently grasps your hand, intertwining your fingers with his, bringing them to his lips and pressing soft kisses along your knuckles. his gaze is intense but filled with a deep affection.

“i'm gonna marry you,” he says softly, his voice carrying a quiet conviction, as if it’s the most certain thing in the world to him. “but not until we figure your family stuff out first."

you open your mouth to protest, but before you can say anything, jungkook speaks again, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your palm.

"i love you," he says simply, the words holding a quiet power, like a promise etched into the very air between you. "and i want you to have everything good in life. you know your parents love you… they’re just complicated. i’m okay with that… if complicated is what you come with, so be it. i’m okay with marrying into complicated. i just want you.”

the sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. you swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words and the tenderness behind them. he's not just offering you his love—he’s offering to shoulder your burdens with you, to walk beside you through whatever storms come your way.

“okay,” you whisper, your voice a little shaky as you nod, accepting his pitch, your fingers still tangled with his. “but… can i have some time to cool off?” your eyes search his, and you feel a lump forming in your throat. “i feel like i just need space right now. to breathe. to figure everything out in my own head.”

jungkook studies your face for a moment before nodding. “of course,” he murmurs, his hand squeezing yours gently.

a beat.

“take all the time you need... we have a lot of sex to make up for anyway.”

throwing your head back, you laugh. jungkook takes this opportunity to kiss your neck and behind your ear. 

“should we start?”

make up sex is always fun. 

regardless if it was a silly argument or something as big as this break up—you and jungkok seem to always know how to make the fuck up. 

“h-holy shit,” you moan. 

jungkook has you bent over his bed as he stands behind you. his throbbing cock is inside and moves in more and more by the second. you hiss at the feeling but also can’t help but shut your eyes to the pleasure. 

he gives you a moment to adjust. 

“did you get bigger or something?” you breathe. “fuck, give me a minute.”

jungkook bites his lip, bringing his hands to your ass. he spreads them before slapping them, loving the way the redness shows up. his slap mark glows and so does his heart. 

“if my dick got bigger, then so did your ass. holy fuck, ___.” 

you snicker and angle your body to a more comfortable state. jungkook takes that as the signal, bringing his hands to your hair. he wraps them around, tightening his grip. he tugs your hair back, bringing you to lift your face to look up at him. he leans down to kiss you. 

when he pulls away, he keeps on pulling your hair. he then begins to thrust himself in and out of you, causing you to gasp and moan his name. 

jungkook continues to fuck you in this position for a hot minute. his hands go from your hair to your breast. he cups them, holding them like he’s afraid to let go. they then travel down your curves to your pussy where jungkook plays with your clit as he fucks you. 

it feels so good. 

when your pussy tightens and you’re about to climax, jungkook pulls himself out. he cums first.

he does a few backshots on you.

then, he holds you to lay down on the bed. quickly, he gets on his knees, pulling your legs over the edge and on top of his shoulders. 

he digs his face into your swollen pussy. 

without warning and without hestiation, he flicks his tongue on your clit. then, he drags it along the inside of your folds. he eats you out as you grip his hair. he spits and shoves his nose in the most surprising parts that make your breath hitch. 

he’s kind enough to let you cum. 

jungkook licks you up, loving the way you taste. it’s so familiar and so sweet. he can’t believe he lived without your delicious pussy for the past few months. it’s heartbreaking, really. he can’t believe you deprived him of such delight. 

when he finishes you up, he spits on it once more before shoving his fat cock back inside you. he stands as you lay there, reaching for him. he shakes his head, denying you the closeness. 

“cum fast like this and then let’s switch to missionary,” you demand. “need you close.”

like a good boy, jungkook listens. 

he takes your hand and places it on his chest. slightly leaning forward, you’re able to feel his heart beat as he fucks you. it races and you swear you feel it skip a beat. jungkook looks at you the entire time, face wincing from the sparks of pleasure and built up tingles. 

then, he cums. 

the minute he does so, he pulls out and jerks himself on top of your stomach. with loving eyes, you watch as he spills himself. 

as he leans in to kiss you, you wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down. 

he smiles into the kiss as you move your way into the middle of his bed. you set him to lay below you and get on top. panting, he takes in the sight of you. 

beautiful. 

so fucking beautiful. 

as you slip yourself in, you crash your body down. grinding and bouncing, you take all of him in. he moans as his hands go up and down your body. you keep yours in his hair or cupping his jaw. in between the fucking, you kiss him as often as you can. 

he kisses you back, losing his breath way too fast. 

“i love you,” he breathes. 

“i love you too,” you exhale. 

jungkook wakes up to the soft glow of the kitchen light spilling into the hallway. 

the quiet sounds of glass clinking and gentle movements pulling him from his sleep. groggy, he rubs his eyes and pads down the hall, stopping when he sees you standing at the counter, your back to him.

"what’re you doing up?" he murmurs, his voice raspy with sleep. “everything okay?”

you turn your head slightly, glancing at him over your shoulder with a small, tired smile. 

"couldn't sleep," you reply, holding a glass of milk in your hand. 

he moves closer to you. 

"you're out of sugar, though," you add softly, almost as an afterthought. "my mom always gives me milk with a teaspoon of sugar when i can’t sleep… guess i’m looking for some comfort."

jungkook watches you for a moment, his chest tightening. there’s something about the way you say it—so casual, yet heavy with the weight of memories, of things unsaid. he can see it in your eyes, the storm brewing beneath the surface, even if you’re trying to hide it. without a word, he crosses the kitchen and wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you against his chest.

you freeze for a second, the glass still in your hand, but then your shoulders sag, and the tears you’ve been holding back start to fall. they come quietly at first, a soft, shuddering breath escaping you as the dam breaks. jungkook presses his cheek against the side of your head, his arms tightening around you, like he’s trying to shield you from the weight of everything that’s been crushing you.

"it’s okay," he whispers, his lips brushing the top of your head. "i got you."

your body trembles in his arms as the sobs come. 

your grip on the glass loosening until you set it down shakily on the counter. you press the heels of your palms into your eyes, trying to stop the tears, but it’s too late. the floodgates are open.

"it’s just… so hard," you choke out, your voice barely audible through the sobs. "i feel so guilty… choosing myself. i’ve spent my whole life trying to please them, trying to be the daughter they wanted, and now…" your words trail off, lost in the overwhelming emotions crashing over you. "i don’t even know who i am without their expectations anymore."

jungkook stays silent, holding you closer, his heart aching for you. 

he doesn’t rush you nor does he try to fill the silence with empty words. 

he just lets you cry.

jungkook lets you grieve for the years you’ve spent trying to live up to someone else’s vision of who you should be. he knows how complicated your relationship with your family is, the impossible choices they’ve forced you to make.

"it’s okay to choose yourself," he says softly after a while, his voice low and steady. "it doesn’t make you selfish. you’ve given so much to them… but you deserve to live for yourself, too. and this isn’t forever, okay? this is just for now. this feeling… this guilt—not being with them."

you lean back against his chest, your body still trembling, your eyes red and swollen from crying. 

"but it hurts so much," you whisper, your voice fragile, like you’re admitting it for the first time. "it feels like i’m breaking apart. like i left parts of me behind."

jungkook’s hand moves to the small of your back, rubbing gentle circles there. "i know," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "maybe you did… and that’s the truth, ___. they’re your parents. they’re not some ex best friend you have a few memories with… it makes sense that it hurts. it’s okay that it hurts… but you’re not alone. you’ve got me, and i’m not going anywhere. we’ll figure this out, together."

your breath hitches again, but this time, it’s different—a softer, calmer release. his words seep into you like warmth, easing the ache in your chest just a little. you turn in his arms, burying your face in his neck as he holds you, his fingers weaving through your hair.

"i love you," jungkook whispers against your skin, his voice a soft promise. "i love you so much, and no matter what happens with your family, no matter how hard it gets, we’ll get through it. i don’t care how complicated it is. you’re the love of my life and i will do anything to make you happy… it’s that simple."

you close your eyes, breathing in his scent, his warmth, the safety of his embrace. with his arms wrapped around you—everything feels a little less heavy, a little less overwhelming. even though you know what’s to come won’t be easy; you also know that being with him and choosing him will be the one decision you’ll never regret.

"everything will be okay," jungkook whispers, his voice like a lifeline. "we’ll make it okay."

and somehow, with him holding you like this, you believe him.