#im going to chew on him like hes gum

[orgonongurlz]

well, im dressed up so nice

an' im doin' my best

an' im startin' over...

im startin' over in another place

[thatbennybee]

Sleepy mornings ft. Branch 🌿

He's calling Poppy (she's literally in the other room, they're so disgustingly in love)

[abnomi]

Giving my turbo body dysmorphia

[littleapplle]

bad dog!

mating season's part two. not necessary but read it for more context. nsfw. 4.1k w.

cw.: hybrid!caleb, fem!reader, masturbation (m), dry humping, caleb is pathetic and anxious asf, a lot of spit, handjob, cunnilingus (sigh...), p in v, big d caleb, knotting, breeding kink, pregnancy kink (sorryy..), caleb is PATHETIC (again), biting and lwk marking kink, doggy style, mating press, squirting.

note: ah!! its finally out! to everyone who liked and asked for a part two of mating season, im sorry! i took so long to start and finish this. i hope i can keep up with the expectations and that this is just as enjoyable as part one.

“bad dog!”

Is what caleb's got most used to hearing in the past few days.

“caleb, do you know where my white bra is- hey, what are you hiding in there? bad dog!”

“caleb! stop going through the dirty laundry basket! bad dog!”

“caleb, why are there holes in my black panties? oh my god did you chew them again?- ugh! bad dog!”

the first few times, he'd whine in guilt and shame, give you his best puppy eyes and maybe, just maybe, get away with it. but now? you're afraid he's getting bolder, that your punishments – denying him his weekly spoon of peanut butter and his blueberry bites – aren't being enough to keep him on his tracks. 

and what's the solution for a puppy with bad manners? a trainer, of course! you've searched everywhere online for a hybrid trainer close to your apartment and nothing was worth wasting time on. most of them were men, which you knew wouldn't end well.

puppy!caleb is friendly, a sweetheart around you. he lies on his back and whines for belly rubs and when you scratch a particular spot on his side, his leg twitches a little. your sweet pup is lovely but you know him well enough to know it's better to avoid interactions with other men.

it's not personal! he isn't scared of them or anything. he just doesn't like them around you:( so why would you bring a stranger to your shared apartment to not only try and order him around but also infect the air, which usually smells like you, with their yucky scent? that's a nono!! caleb is a good pup but his teeth are still huge and sharp!!!

with no other options left, you return to scolding caleb almost daily for his misbehavior.  sure, you’re letting him get away with it sometimes and maybe you're too soft on him but you're trying!

his behavior worsens with time. it's been a little more than a  week since the incident you'd rather not mention. caleb barks when you get home, showing his teeth to the world once his nose sniffs a different scent in your clothes. caleb growls and both of you play tug of war with your clothes every morning. caleb hides stuff around the apartment and you're running out of undies.

he's clingy. you love him but he's constantly clinging to you, sniffing every inch of your skin when he thinks you're not looking. When you sit down on the couch to work, laptop resting on top of your thighs, he lies down on the floor, waiting for you to invite him to sit beside you and take a nap while you write reports, and when you don't? his sharp teeth nip at the ticklish skin of your foot. bad dog!

to his dismay, you still have a job and need to go out by the morning and spend the whole day out. the baby teethers you bought for him aren’t helping to keep his teeth and mind busy anymore and caleb is starting to destroy the shit out of your apartment. you’ve found bite marks everywhere this past week. your mascara? bitten. the corner of your bedside table? destroyed. the cute and pink silicone spatula in your kitchen? disintegrated.

ok, sure, it’s kind of your fault for not educating him properly but how could you? poor boy gets anxious when you’re not around and his gums are itchy! he’s innocent! 

so, to help with said problem, you bought him a friend! a fluffy, cute, white bunny plushie with the cutest light pink heart for a nose. but that alone was too tedious for your bored pup! to prevent him from absolutely destroying the plushie, you spray some of your perfume in its fluffy body. the cologne he whines and buries his face in your neck when you wear, the one that made you put a lock on the cabinet under your bathroom sink because he kept spraying it in the air when you weren’t home.

great idea! he loves it. a bit too much maybe, but it’s a win. 

“i’m leaving, caleb! leftovers are in the fridge. yes, i love you, yes, i have to go, no i can’t call in sick.”

you announce loudly from the front door before shutting it close, a tactic you quickly learned. you sneak to the front door quietly, tell him that you’re out and boom. door locked. sometimes you can hear him whine and paw at the knob and it breaks your heart but your boss will chop your head off if you arrive late one more time this month. you try to make your goodbye as painless as possible for him, like removing a bandaid with a single quick pull so he doesn’t have the time to process the sting.

the clock hits 11:00, it’s been an hour since you left. caleb is miserably sprawled on the couch, he tries to focus his eyes on the show playing on the tv but his purple orbs stare at the clock more times than he can count.

it’s 18:00 by the time he gets frustrated and decides he’ll take a nap in your bed. everything on the tv is too boring if you’re not there to watch it with him, he doesn’t want to eat if you’re not there to treat him with dessert- oh, he misses you dearly.

opening the door of your room, he sighs like a wife that has been waiting six months for her husband, who left to save their country, to answer her last letter, whining dramatically at the hopeful thought you’d magically come home earlier. the mattress sinks down with his weight, curling under your weighted blanket like a puppy.

and that’s when he sees it.

his new little friend, with a light orange bow tied around its neck, sitting beside his head on the pillows. you’ve definitely sprayed your perfume on it this morning, the scent is still too fresh, he notes. 

he yanks it closer quickly, big hand and fingers gripping the fabric with force as he buries it in his face. comfort immediately runs through his veins, filling his bored brain with a sense of calmness. his fluffy ears twitch, glueing to the sides of his head pitifully and there’s a barely visible tail wagging slowly under the thick blanket.

caleb takes a whiff, a second one, a third one, and his eyes start to water. this is inhumane! he cherishes your gift dearly but now the scent just makes him miss you even more. rubbing his face closer to the plushie’s tummy, his canine teeth sink on the fabric as gently as he can, trying not to damage the toy you gifted him with so much love.

his little puppy heart shatters. if you were by his side right now, you’d pet his ears, pinch his cheek just enough to make his canines visible and giggle at him and it’d make him feel better! 

his hips buckle against the mattress as he squirms around the bed sadly and a shiver runs up his spine, making the fur on his tail stand up. caleb has been so pent up since he pressed you to the floor and had his way around you, his cock is always sensitive, the scratches you give behind his ear make his lower stomach tighten with arousal and his pupils are always blown.

gross stuff is a nono in your bed but his hands paw at his hardening cock through his boxers anyway. It’s not in his hand he wants to come and the feeling of not having what he wants makes his chest heavy with frustration. With a hiss, his hand leaves his cock, like any touch burns and hurts him more than it helps. 

‘caleb- no. i need you to calm down before i give you the spoon. breathe.’ is what you tell him after lunch, when he gets to have some peanut butter. the situation is different, he feels like a bomb, ticking closer and closer to exploding but he obeys your voice in his head anyway, breathing nervously against the now covered in saliva bunny.

a long breath makes his eyes roll to the back of his skull as his hypersensitive nose catches a glimpse of the intoxicating sweet smell of your cologne. 

and what happens next is not processed by his pathetic brain. the poor plushie is dragged down the blanket and pressed right to his crotch, its fur sticky with precum that seeped through his boxers. this is what you wanted when you gifted him this thing, huh? a ragdoll for him to fuck when you’re away? well it’s not enough!

his hips rut against the bead filled body with messy thrusts and more whines escape his lips. He can’t come. Not in this, not in his hand, his knot will take too long to go down and he’ll be sensitive, too sensitive. it has to be you. he wants you.

caleb is not there to see the clock tick 18:40, his ears don't help him this time, his nose is buried in your pillow too deeply to catch your slightly sweaty scent in the air and tell that you’re home. 

from the front door, you arch a brow as you kick your shoes off and place them on the shoe hack. the apartment is quiet, too quiet. caleb is like a child, you’ve noticed, if everything is too silent, something is wrong. 

“caleb? where are you, boy? have you eaten anything yet?” you call out, no one answers.

the door of your bedroom is ajar. is he sleeping? cute. you walk carefully to its direction, tiptoeing in hope to not wake him up. and once you peek inside, your smile falters.

“caleb! gross!”

the shriek makes him snap out of his drunk, dumbed down mind and his eyes almost pop out of his skull. his ears, once hidden on both sides of his head, stand on top of it, tense. “you-” he cries and sits up.

you don’t give time to finish his sentence, a frown blooming in your face as you cross your arms close to your chest by the door. 

“seriously caleb?! in my bed? i just changed the sheets this morning, for fuck’s sake-” and listen, he wants to apologize, feel guilty and pout but he can’t. he can hear your breath hitching, he loves when you come home with sweat clinging to your skin, fuck, you smell so good. he wants a taste. this time, he’ll get it.

this time, he begs. he crawls to the edge of your bed, tail wagging behind him mindlessly and the words that leave his mouth are pathetic.

“please- r’lly need your help! feels so hot- please i- i really need you! been waiting for so long, ah, please- i’m a good boy, kept my teeth to myself, promise. oh fuck.” your ears can barely catch up to everything he’s saying, his words are dragged, desperate, needy.

you really want to keep up with the ‘i’m mad at you’ act but you break. his whines go right to your core, arousal pooling on your underwear disgustingly fast. pinching your nose, you sigh, walking to his direction and sitting on the bed.

with the space between you two getting smaller, his tail wags faster, his pupils blown wide, shaky. your hand makes contact with his sweaty cheek and he is quick to lean in, shutting his eyes close and basking into your touch. “what’s wrong, pupp-” — “hot.” you can hear the distress in his voice. “it’s okay, i’m here now, aren’t i?” at the reassurance, you receive a lick in your hand as acknowledgement.

scooting closer, you cradle his face with both hands. there’s a bit of sweat clinging to his bangs , making them stick to his forehead, a bit of saliva is smeared on his lips and his brows are furrowed. “oh, my poor pup.” you coo in pity before pressing a kiss to his wet lips. he whines, kissing— well, licking your lips stupid—, you groan at the mess but doesn’t fight against it, you’ve been mean enough already.

while his clammy hands grip your shirt for a sense of grounding, yours scratch his chest in affection, tracing down to the happy trail that trailed up to his bellybutton. you’d love to take your time with him, let your mind settle, but knowing caleb, he’ll grow frustrated and bark weakly as a way to protest. so, in order to keep him quiet, your wandering hand pulls down his wet underwear, his cock standing proud against his stomach.

your eyes almost pop out their sockets once you peek down. he is big, much bigger than whatever the average is. his tip is an angry shade of red, beads of precum leaking down the shaft. the cool air makes it twitch. 

slowly, awkwardly, your hand wraps itself around it, working up and down. that makes him snap, breaking the kiss and throwing his head back with a loud whine. “‘s that good, pup?” he doesn’t answer, how could he? not when your thumb presses on his tip in a way it makes his thighs shake and his ears twitch with pleasure and he’s trying so hard not to come. 

your other hand leaves his face, going south to cup his balls gently. his jaw tightens. gross. you think with a smile but leans in anyway, kissing his adam’s apple as it bobs with his nervous gulps.

the stimulation is too much for him, making his brain go fuzzy. your lips now working on his shoulder blade, your hand gripping his length tightly, your other hand massaging his balls- “stop! argh- please, ‘m gonna cum! can’t cum. needa be inside you, please.” caleb squeals, both hands holding down your arms with force as his hips buckle in your hands.

so you do, you let go, just staring at him with big eyes as his chest goes up and down quickly and his face flushes with heat. once he settles from his high, caleb’s hands grip the hem of your shirt, taking it off quickly and messing your hair. “ow! caleb-” — “no.”

caleb has always been stronger than you, you lose against him when roughhousing, you give up on trying to save your clothes from his teeth because once something is in his grasp, you’re not getting it back. in a second, you’re under him, face shoved into one of your pillows while your ass, covered in the pretty, black skirt you left to work with is up in the air.

he doesn’t take the skirt off, too irritated to care about something so trivial. he takes a second to sniff your crotch, covered by a cute pair of wet lilac panties, before yanking the fabric down to your bent knees. you squeal against your pillow at the roughness and the quick, hot sniffs on your lips.

last week caleb discovered he loves the way you taste, he’d love to eat you out the whole night, starting now, but he just can’t take this long right now. his warm tongue laps at your arousal, lips wrapping themselves in your folds and sucking gently.

“c-caleb! fuck! good- good boy, keep going, baby.” muffled whines escape your lips and at the praise, caleb’s tail wags faster, tongue working around your clit, teasing it. he sees the way your knees fight to keep your ass up and not buckle weakly, that’s his sign to keep going. 

his free hands grip your ass, spreading it for more easy access. he trails kisses from your clit and up to your slit, continuing going up till he gets to your asshole, placing an open mouthed kiss to the hole. it twitches, your body shivering at the unexpected contact. you hit the pillow you’re currently biting in protest. “gross, caleb!”

it doesn’t take long for your moans to grow louder and your thighs, dripping with sweat, shake violently as he sucks on your clit harshly. “fu-ck! yes! good boy, caleb- mghhh- jus’ like, ah, that!” you moan, creaming on his mouth tiredly.

you curse his stamina, because once you think you’ll finally be able to catch your breath and rest, caleb’s already rutting against your wet folds and slapping his dick on your sensitive bundle of nerves. energetic mutt, you curse. he is not giving you a break.

“caleb.” you warn, trying to make your voice as steady as possible. “gimme a break and then we can conti- aaH! oh my god- fucking mutt!” you scream, cursing him for the pain between your legs as he buries himself inside you in a single thrust. his tip kissing your cervix and walls tightening around his length painfully. 

“s-sorry! o-oh fuck. fuck, y’er so tight- mgh-” 

and ohhhh fuck, he waited so long for this. you look so pretty from this angle, hair tangled and messy, face buried in a pillow, back and thighs sweaty while your knees can barely hold up your weight. he gulps down, trying not to piston his hips inside you just yet. 

he doesn’t give you much time to get comfortable before snapping his hips against your ass, the sound of skin against skin disgustingly lewd. his torso bends down to bury his face in your nape, breathing deeply in your hair once he does. “mine. oh- ahh- yes, mineminemine!” caleb whimpers, his eyes rolling back as you clench down around him, making his thrusts messier. 

as a response to pleasure, his fluffy ears twitch and drop to the back of his head once again. his tail doesn’t stop wagging ever, swishing behind him happily. the warmth in his stomach grows at the sound of your moans and screams, your curses only making him hornier.

you’re a meanie, you don’t let him chew on your shirts and get a whiff of your bras, you nag at him and hide the small container with blueberries that’s usually in the fridge when he does something wrong. and usually, he’d whine, eyes getting watery at the thought of you being mad at him, but now? he doesn’t even care! you look so pretty, you feel so good. his ears barely get a glimpse of you cursing all his next generations.

a shiver runs down your spine once he licks the back of your neck, sniffing it contently as his cock abuses your insides. you hate him, you fucking hate this mutt, he is disgusting and he does not obey and his cock drags along your walls so fucking nicely. his mushroom tip pokes your cervix roughly, making you stupidly drool in your sheets while your things dig on the bedding. 

“y’smell so good- y’er so tight- feel so- ngh- good! mine, right? don’t like other men around you! noooongh”  – “w-wait! caleb! aah!” something in his mind upsetted him because the way he thrusts into your cunt is inhumane, caleb’s bigger frame presses you down on the mattress, the hair of his happy trail tickling your lower back as his skin slaps on yours. 

you’re a mess, pussy drooling pathetically and stretched to her limit around him, juices spilling down your thighs and the mattress everytime he fucks his cock inside you. and when you’re sure you’re getting used to him, of fucking course caleb has to start talking again. “need to mark you, everyone need’ta know y’er mine, just mine. that’s my cock you’re clenching around. needa bite you, yeah.” 

and he keeps up with his words, his loving, ticklish licks to the back of your neck turning into a sharp pain. you scream, squirming under him and one of your hands tries to slap whatever bit of his skin you can reach but it’s worthless. once caleb sets his mind into something, you’re definitely not the one that’s able to stop him with physical force. with a hand tightly around your waist and the other keeping your neck in place, his canine teeth sink down on your nape, biting down just enough to make the skin irritated and leave a scar for a few weeks.

and when you feel like you’re getting closer, his hips stop, his cock slips out of you and a strangled whine leaves your wet lips as he manhandles you, flipping you on your back. “you!-” annoying! you’re so annoying! bad dog!, you want to shout. “s-sorry. need to see your face.” he hisses as his eyes wander down at your breasts. “you’re so pretty, ahhh, so pretty. have i ever told you that?- fuck, mine and so pretty- oh-” 

he doesn’t waste any time, his hands help your legs up his shoulders and he slips inside you again. his sunset colored eyes stare at his cock going in and out, in and out, in and out of you and he finally notices the creamy ring around the base of his length and smeared on your lips. it’s pinkish, he notes, probably from being too rough and not stretching you properly. he’ll say sorry later.

“you’re so-” he pants tiredly, “so pretty.” a sweaty hand gropes the fat of your tit, squeezing it under his large palm. “want t’a breed you- need to- fuck! need to get your tits swollen with milk-” caleb leans in once again, this time bending your body like a stick, pressing your legs closer to your chest in the process. his nose takes a whiff of the valley of your boobs before wrapping his lips around your free boob, playing with the other one with his hand. 

your voice fails you once again. it’s not like you have the strength to judge him harshly again anyway. his tongue swipes at your hard nipple, sucking it like he has a point to prove. “and you would mghhh! would look so pretty and round and ah! everyone would know y’er mine, oh god-” 

with a last kiss, as if sealing a promise, he lets go of your nipple with mercy and stands up again, kissing your knee as an apology for bending you like your bones are made of jello. and then it hits him. “o-oh! s’rry forgot you like this.” the hand squeezing your tit snakes down between you two, adding some much needed stimulation to your clit.

you jump, legs thrashing against his shoulders and back at the pleasure. you clench around him once more and this time, it’s his turn to squeal in pleasure. “o-oh fuck. ‘m cumming, g’nna breed you, yeah? fill you up, mhm? yeah? fuck! cummin’!” caleb whines before throwing his head back, his sweaty hair barely moving an inch away from his forehead while doing so, and his once steady thrusts turn languid, messy. 

his cock twitches around you, spilling white, watery ropes in your pussy. bicolor orbs roll to the back of his skull as he feels his knot grow swollen at the base of his cock. even after coming, he keeps pistoning his hips in you, tiredly, but it’s the thought that counts.

at the weird, swollen and hot thing trying to fuck its way inside you, you mewl, eyes going wild open as caleb tries stretching you just a little more. 

“caleb-? what the aha! fuck?” — “sorry!” he cries but keeps going anyway, his fingers working faster around your clit to make up for the pain. “jus’ a little more? ple- ase? it feels good, doesn’t it?” back to being stupid and pathetic apparently, because the way he stares at you with puppy dog eyes and begs is disgusting. 

his other hand leaves your thigh to press down on your tummy and it becomes too much. your walls convulse around him and you cry, clit throbbing under his touch pathetically. the hand putting pressure on your bladder makes your eyes roll, your hands grip the sheets to the point of turning white.

“caleb! ah! oh my god- fuck- aha, cumming, i’m gonna cum! pl-please keep going!” 

and you don’t have to ask him twice. he thrusts his cock in you a last time, his knot slipping in easier than he thought it would, thanks to your drooling cunt and his cum and that does it for you. your body goes static, hips bucking against his and back arching against the bed. his fingers don’t stop, rubbing your clit until you’re shaking uncontrollably and your juices spray on his thighs and lower stomach.

“oh-”  — “don- not a word!” you manage to cry out.

“so… how long till it goes down?” you murmur tiredly against his shoulder, arms wrapped around his big frame as he lies on top of you. your legs feel sore, aching from being spread for so long, thanks to his cock still buried in you.

“an hour and a half, probably” caleb shrugs. 

your eyes snap open. “an hour?!” — “and a half.” he barks with a chuckle.

“i hate you! you’re heavy, y’know?! argh, bad dog!” he only manages to laugh at your rage and lick your cheek, covering it in saliva.

⊹ ࣪reblogs are very much appreciated. thank you for reading!(*´▽`*)

[sunshineangel0]

「 𐔌 . ⋮ off limits ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 」

.・゜⤑ dbf!bang chan x reader ⤷ “I’m going to hell for this,” he mutters. — your dad couldn’t pick you up from the airport, so he sent his best friend instead. bang chan. older. broader. still single. still unfairly hot. something about it hums, something neither of you are supposed to touch. ➶wc: 1.6k ↺ tw: age gap, sexual content (explicit), unprotected sex (dont do that guys), power imbalance (father’s best friend),potential dubcon undertones (due to authority figure + age gap, even though consent is present). ⋆ a/n: culprit is THIS VIDEO that inspired me to write this. his fault. all his fault. also imagining chan as with silver streaks and experienced hands makes me ahsgzashfdjwh. btw im trying out a new layout rn? tell me how you like it!! enjoy the story hehe・。.

The first thing you see when you step out of the terminal is him.

Bang Chan. Leaning against the side of his car like a photo in motion—arms crossed, sunglasses pushed up the bridge of his nose, one foot propped against the bumper. He’s broader than you remember. Hair a little messier. Tan deeper. But the same dimple shows when he smiles. And the sight of him still punches a little too low in your stomach.

You pause, blinking like maybe you’re imagining it. Like maybe this is some private fantasy you shouldn’t still be having at twenty-two.

He pushes off the car when he sees you, grin sliding lazy across his face.

“Didn’t recognize you for a second,” he says, stepping close. His voice is lower than you remember. Rougher. “You look… older.”

You arch a brow as he pulls your suitcase out of your hand with one casual tug. Like it weighs nothing. Like you weigh nothing.

“That a bad thing?”

He opens the passenger door for you, gaze flicking down your body once—quick, but not quick enough. “No,” he says. “Just dangerous.”

You pretend you didn’t hear that. Slide into the seat. Try to ignore the way the leather’s still warm from the sun.

The car smells like cedarwood and mint. Something clean but lived-in. Like him. Like his hand lotion and the gum he always used to chew when he was helping your dad in the garage.

The ride starts out quiet. The engine purrs low. Music hums under it—some soft indie playlist he probably didn’t think twice about. Outside the window, the city blurs past in streaks of concrete and light. Your legs stick slightly to the seat. His elbow brushes the edge of the console every time he shifts gears.

You glance at his hands. Big. Tanned. Veins prominent across the back like a roadmap. One of them drums against the wheel in a rhythm too steady for how fast your heart’s beating.

He glances over. “Sorry your dad bailed on pickup duty. Got called into some last-minute meeting and figured I was a decent stand-in.”

You smile. “I don’t mind.”

His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t look away from the road. “It’s good to see you.” “You too.”

Silence settles again. But this time, it feels loaded. Stretched tight, like the air’s thinner somehow. Every little sound magnifies—the low buzz of tires, the squeak of the leather when you shift, the scratch of his nails against the steering wheel.

You tug your shorts down an inch. Not because they’re riding up—because you suddenly can’t stop thinking about how bare your legs are. How close they are to his hand on the gearshift. The console between you feels smaller than it should.

Suddenly, as if another symptom of whatever was happening to you just now, your troath started feeling dry. You reach for the water bottle in the holder. His. Cold to the touch, beads of condensation slipping down your fingers.

“Mind?” you ask, even though you’re already unscrewing the cap.

He glances, just briefly, then back to the road. “Help yourself.”

You sip, slow. Let the water hit your lips, then hold his gaze in the mirror above the dashboard. His jaw flexes. His grip tightens. You set the bottle back down, letting your fingers linger on the rim just a second too long.

“You always this quiet now?” he asks.

“Depends who I’m with.”

He laughs, but it’s short. Breathless. There’s something restrained in the way he shifts in his seat, like he’s trying not to look at you again. He pulls off the freeway and into a quieter neighborhood—trees lining the streets, golden-hour light cutting across the pavement. You know where he’s going before he says it.

“My place is closer. Figured I’d bring you by, let your dad catch up with whatever he’s buried in.”

You nod. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

But when he parks in the driveway, neither of you move. He sits back, one hand still on the wheel, the other dropping to his thigh. His chest rises slowly. He looks at you then—really looks. Not a quick glance. Not a polite check-in.

His eyes drag over your face, your neck, the way your collarbone curves beneath your shirt.

“You’ve changed,” he says, voice low.

“So have you.” He doesn’t answer right away. Just keeps looking at you like he’s trying to memorize something he shouldn’t be seeing.

Then—slowly—he reaches over. Fingers brushing your cheek as he tucks a loose piece of hair behind your ear. His knuckles skim your skin, linger just a beat longer than necessary.

You don’t lean away. His voice, when he speaks again, is rougher. Like it’s being dragged out of him.

“You’re making it really hard to be good right now.” You whisper, “Then don’t be.”

He groans—quiet, guttural. His hand moves to your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. His eyes flick between your lips and your eyes like he’s still fighting something in himself. But it’s losing.

“I’m going to hell for this,” he mutters.

But his belt is already unbuckled.

And you don’t stop him. His belt clicks open, the sound sharp in the quiet space between you.

You watch his hands move with purpose—undoing the top button of his jeans, dragging the zipper down slow. Like he’s daring you to stop him. You don’t.

You shift in your seat, breath caught in your throat. Your thighs press together involuntarily. Everything feels too tight—your shorts, your skin, the air in the car.

He leans over, crowding your space. His hand curls around the back of your neck, warm and steady. His thumb strokes just beneath your jaw as his lips hover close.

“This is a bad idea,” he murmurs. You nod. “Yeah.”

But you still tilt your chin up to kiss him.

The second your mouths meet, something snaps. His grip tightens. His lips crush yours with weeks—months—of pent-up restraint unraveling all at once. The kiss is rough. Starved. Tongue and teeth and heat. His free hand slips under your thigh, dragging you closer across the leather seat. It squeaks under the shift of your weight.

You climb over the console without thinking, knees braced awkwardly on either side of his lap. The steering wheel digs into your back, but you don’t care. All you can feel is him—his hands on your hips, the hard line of him pressing up against you through his boxers.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he breathes against your mouth, voice low and frayed.

“Pretty sure I do,” you whisper, grinding down against him.

He swears—soft and filthy—and yanks your shirt up, lips trailing down your neck to your chest. He mouths at the swell of your breasts, biting just enough to make your breath hitch. Your fingers tangle in his hair as he pulls one cup of your bra down and sucks your nipple into his mouth. Wet heat. Tongue flicking. You cry out, hips rolling against him with no rhythm, just need.

His hand slides between your legs, cupping you over your shorts.

“Fuck,” he mutters, feeling the dampness there. “You’re soaked.”

“Do something about it.” That’s all it takes.

He pushes your shorts aside, fingers slipping under your underwear, finding your clit with maddening precision. You jerk against him, moaning quietly into his shoulder. His touch is practiced—slow circles, pressure just right. He watches you unravel like it’s the only thing in the world he wants.

“You gonna come just like this?” he asks, voice husky. “Grinding on my hand in the front seat?”

You nod, desperate. He presses two fingers inside you, and your whole body clenches.

“God, look at you,” he groans. “So fucking tight. So wet for me.”

You whimper, burying your face in his neck. His fingers move faster. The heel of his palm keeps pressure on your clit. Your thighs tremble.

It builds quick—hot and overwhelming. You fall apart in his lap, jaw slack, breath catching on a moan as you come around his fingers. He holds you through it, whispering praise into your skin, mouth brushing your ear.

When you come down, he pulls his fingers out slow and brings them to his lips, sucking them clean without breaking eye contact.

Your breath catches all over again. Then he lifts you just enough to free himself—hard, thick, flushed at the tip. You reach down to wrap your hand around him, stroking once. He hisses.

“You sure?” he asks, voice ragged. “Because if I fuck you right now, it’s not gonna be soft.”

“I don’t want soft.” That’s all the permission he needs.

He lines himself up and pulls you down in one thrust. You cry out, nails digging into his shoulders. He curses, low and broken.

“Gosh—so tight—fuck.”

You bounce in his lap, seat creaking beneath you, the whole car shifting with every movement. The windows fog. Your thighs slap against his. His grip on your hips is bruising.

You ride him like you’ve wanted to for years—needy, reckless, filthy. The angle is deep. Every grind hits something electric inside you. Your second orgasm sneaks up fast, faster than you expect, and you cling to him as it rips through you.

He follows with a growl, hips jerking up into yours as he spills inside you. One last thrust. Another. Then stillness. Breathless. His forehead pressed against your chest, sweat beading at his hairline.

The car is silent except for the sound of your breathing. The smell of sex hangs thick in the air.

Neither of you speaks right away. Then, voice rough, he mutters, “Your dad is going to fucking kill me.”

You laugh, breathless. “Guess we better make it worth it, then.”

©sunshineangel0 𖹭 if you liked this work, please consider reblogging, commenting or liking! xoxo franzi 💋

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[stillalivebydemand893]

Mosh Pits & Real Bruises

18+(can't keep it pg13 even if i tried)

A chaotic weekend at Riot Fest becomes a battle of unresolved tension when you’re forced to share a tent with Erik

The moment you stepped out of Julia’s Jeep and into the chaos of Riot Fest, you knew this weekend was going to end in either sex, arson, or both.

Mud. Music. Mayhem.

And him.

Erik. Fucking. Campbell.

Shirtless. Covered in tattoos. Sunglasses on despite the fact it was cloudy as shit. Holding a six-pack of root beer like it was the Holy Grail and he was the sin-soaked Indiana Jones of your nightmares.

You froze. Eyeliner? Shaking.

“JULIA,” you hissed.

“What?” she replied, with the stone-cold cool of someone who definitely knew what she did. She popped her gum like a villain. “I thought you’d be happy. I put you in the same tent. Save on space. And, y’know…”

She raised an eyebrow.

“The friction.”

You blinked. “I’m going to end you.”

“Don’t dry hump too hard,” she added cheerfully, grabbing her duffel. “The zippers can’t handle that kind of tension. Trust me. I speak from deeply unfortunate experience.”

You spun on her, ready to either scream or cry or crawl into a garbage can.

“You what?! Jules, are you serious?Im going to faint, I need three packs of Marlboros and a gallon of tequila right fucking now.”

“It’ll be fine,” she shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Cue Erik walking up like he heard from God Himself.

“Peach,” he said, dragging the nickname out like a goddamn love song dipped in sarcasm. “Nice to see your eyeliner survived the car ride. Did you use paint thinner this time?”

“You’re one joke away from getting buried alive in a port-a-potty, Campbell.”

Still, you hugged him.. The worst part? He felt good. Warm. Familiar. Like the disaster you never quite outgrew.

This was the guy who made you fall in love with KISS when he showed you Detroit Rock City on DVD ages ago. He used to made fun of you every time you sobbed at the end like a widow.

“THEY MADE UP, ERIK. AT THE CONCERT. IT’S FUCKING BEAUTIFUL,” you’d wailed once, sobbing into his shirt.

He just laughed. “Get a grip, Jesus. You’re leaking.”

Now, standing here, shirtless and smug, he was the same annoying bastard. But hotter. More dangerous.

“By the way,” he added, casually, “don’t spray that crime-against-noses perfume inside the tent again. I swear I sneezed for five hours straight last year.”

You flipped him off. “I’ll just fart instead.”

He nearly tripped over the tent trying to chase you down.

And just like that, war was declared.

By 4 PM your Docs were murdering your feet, you were on your third vodka Red Bull, and Erik had already managed to:

• Flirt with both bartenders.

• Arm wrestle a guy in a fishnet bodysuit.

• Steal a joint from a group of hippies and pretend he “found it on the ground.”

And somehow still have enough energy to piss you off every 15 minutes.

You were mid-rant about your boots when Julia dropped a bomb from her festival chair like she was narrating a true crime documentary.

“So... tiny thing. Your ex is here.”

You stopped chewing your fry.

“WHAT?Don’t joke with things like that Jules!I almost choked.”

“Brad. Cargo shorts. Tank top. Emotional damage.”

You blinked. Hard. Calculating whether stabbing him with a corn dog stick was legally considered assault or performance art.

Erik plopped down beside you. “Why do you look like you’re planning a crime?”

“Her ex is here,” Julia replied, sipping a neon drink .

“Fucking Brad? Is he still pretending to care about climate change to get laid?”

“Worse,” Julia said. “He’s with that TikTok blonde. Looks like she filters her soul.”

You stood, rage bubbling. “Nope. I’m leaving. Give me the keys. I’ll walk to the next state.”

Julia grabbed your wrist. “No. Screw him. Let’s get drunk. Start a pit. Snap a few bones for fun!”

Then Erik stood too, voice low, smirk deadly.

“Or…”

You raised an eyebrow. “Or?”

He leaned in. “We pretend we’re together. You sit on my lap. We kiss. He combusts. I win. You win. Everyone else loses.”

“Why would you enjoy it?”

“I’ve been dying to shut you up with my mouth since sophomore year.”

Your brain said no. Your body? Already glitching.

Your knees? Compromised.

You glared. “That’s evil.”

He grinned, stepping closer. “And hot.”

You took a breath. “Fine. But if you do anything weird, I will kill you with a glow stick.”

He leaned into your ear, voice pure sin.

“Peach, I invented weird.”

Ten Minutes Later

You were in Erik’s lap.

His arms wrapped around your waist.

His hand? Under your skirt, just resting on your thigh. Just enough to drive you crazy without doing anything explicitly illegal.

“This is… disturbingly comfy,” you admitted.

“You’re welcome. I make a great emo couch.”

“You’re also warm. I might keep you.”

He tensed. Just barely. Then squeezed your hip.

“Careful, sweetheart. I might not let you go.”

Your heart betrayed you.

Then- here came Brad. Like a walking red flag and discount cologne.

He looked over.

You smiled.

Erik leaned in, lips brushing your neck.

“Smile for the cheaters,” he whispered.

You ground down just enough to make him hiss.

“You’re playing with fire, Peach.”

You looked back, eyes glowing with mischief.

“Then burn with me.”

Suddenly: “FOO FIGHTERS, BABY! LET’S FUCKING GOOOOO!” Julia screamed, sprinting toward the stage like her taxes depended on it.

Erik helped you down, and you laced your fingers through his.

Then, without thinking, you grabbed his hand and wrapped it around your waist as you walked.

“What’s this?” he murmured, smirking against your temple.

“Just wanted you to hold me,” you mumbled. Vodka was 80% of your blood. Truths were leaking.

Erik rubbed his jaw like it physically pained him. “Jesus, Peach. You’re drunk. And you’re killing me.”

You giggled. “I am drunk. But don’t die. I want to kiss you before you turn into a ghost.”

His grip on you tightened.

“Peach…”

You turned to him. “Yeah?”

He looked at you like he wanted to kiss you and start a fire at the same time.

“You better mean it. Because if I kiss you… it’s not fake anymore.”

You smiled.

Twenty minutes later, you were tipsy off vodka slushies and Erik’s smug hand on your waist.

The music was thunder. The crowd? Unhinged. You could feel the bass in your spine. Somewhere, someone was vomiting behind a speaker.

Romance was in the air.

You were pressed up against Erik, half-dancing, half-grinding, fully pretending you weren’t imagining what it would be like to climb him like a jungle gym and scream into his mouth.

“Peach,” he warned, voice in your ear, “if you keep looking at me like that, we are not making it to the end of this set.”

“Good,” you purred, letting your hand trail up under his shirt, just slightly. “Then let’s end it early.”

He visibly malfunctioned. You could practically hear the Windows XP shut-down sound in his brain.

“I hate you.”

“You wish.”

Then-

“BRING ME THE HORIZON’S STARTING, LET’S GO DIE IN A PIT!” Julia screamed, launching herself into the crowd like a goddamn Viking.

You whooped, grabbed Erik’s hand, and pulled him in after her.

Big mistake. Huge.

The Mosh Pit

It was a war zone. Sweat. Boots. Elbows. You got hit in the ribs twice, and you loved it. Someone screamed, someone lost a shoe, someone proposed to their girlfriend mid-breakdown. You lived for it.

Until someone shoved you. Hard.

Your boot caught in the mud. Your body lurched. And before you could hit the ground-

Arms. Around you. Tight. Warm. Familiar.

Erik.

He caught you mid-fall, pulling you flush against his chest like you weighed nothing. The look on his face?

Absolute panic + raging murder boner.

“ARE YOU OKAY? WHO THE FUCK SHOVED YOU?”

“I’m fine,” you gasped, but your knees said liar, and your ribs weren’t vibing either.

Erik scanned the pit like he was about to start swinging. “I will punch someone into the sun.”

“Chill, Campbell.”

“No,” he snapped, grabbing your face in both hands, eyes dark. “You do not get to die in my arms because some punk jackass couldn’t handle the circle pit. You’re mine, got it? If anyone’s going to bruise you, it’s gonna be me. Consensually.”

You blinked. Slowly.

“…That was the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Fuck it,” he muttered, lifting you bridal-style like it was nothing. “You’re done. We’re going back.”

“Erik, I can walk-”

“You limped. I saw it. Don’t argue. I’m turned on and concerned and that’s a terrible combo.”

By the time you got back to the tent, you were buzzed, bruised, and completely feral.

Erik laid you down gently like you were made of glass, then immediately turned into a one-man emergency team. He yanked his hoodie off, shoved it under your head, grabbed a half-used first aid kit from his bag, and muttered to himself like he was about to perform surgery.

“Where does it hurt?” he asked.

“My soul. Also my ribs.”

He huffed out a laugh and lifted your shirt,carefully. You watched his face go from playful to holy shit as he caught sight of the forming bruise.

His fingers brushed it softly.

His jaw clenched.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he murmured, not looking up. “I thought-fuck. I thought I was gonna lose you.”

“You’d miss me?” you teased, even though your heart was hammering like a war drum.

He finally met your gaze. And this time, there was no joke in his voice.

“Peach. I don’t think I’d recover.”

You swallowed.

The tension exploded like a firework at point blank.

One second you were staring at him.

The next?

Mouths. Colliding.

Tongues. Teeth. Desperation. Heat.

He kissed you like he was mad at you. Like he wanted to ruin you and hold you forever all at once.

You moaned into his mouth, pulling him closer, legs wrapping around his waist instinctively.

He groaned against your lips. “You sure?”

You nodded, whispering: “Just don’t stop.”

That was all he needed.

He tugged your shirt off, eyes devouring every inch like you were a feast and he was starving.

“God, look at you,” he breathed. “All mine. Finally.”

“Less talking,” you panted. “More ruining me.”

He smirked.

“Brat.”

And then he did exactly that.

You were pinned to the floor of the tent, chest rising, breath ragged.

He hovered above you, hair falling into his eyes, skin flushed and glowing from the adrenaline of the pit and from you. His hands were everywhere. Up your thighs, along your waist, gripping, claiming.

“Say it,” he growled against your neck, voice low and wrecked. “Say you want this.”

You gasped, back arching into him as his mouth sucked just below your collarbone, hard enough to bruise.

“I want this.” You swallowed, voice shaking. “I want you.”

That did it.

He crushed his mouth to yours with the kind of heat that short-circuited your brain. Tongues tangled, teeth clashed. His hands slid under your shirt,greedy, like he couldn’t decide what to touch first. The feel of him pressed between your legs had you melting.

You rolled your hips up into him, and he growled.

“God, Peach…” His lips traced fire down your throat. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

“You first,” you breathed, dragging his shirt up and over his head. He helped, then dove right back in, hands skimming your sides like he was memorizing you by feel alone.

You were bare from the waist up in seconds, cool air hitting hot skin, and Erik froze. His eyes roamed every inch of you, jaw clenched like he was holding back a scream.

“You’re not real,” he muttered.

“Then keep touching me until I am.”

He did.

His mouth closed around your nipple and you cried out, fingers fisting in his hair, dragging him closer. His free hand slid between your thighs, over your underwear, pressing just enough to make your legs shake.

He kissed his way up your chest, lips swollen, voice wrecked. “You’re so fucking wet.”

You moaned, hips lifting.

He smirked. “All for me?”

“Only for you.”

And then,he moved his hand.

Slow. Firm. Torturous.

You bit your lip, trying to stay quiet, but he just chuckled darkly.

“Don’t hold back now, baby.” His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear. “I wanna hear how badly you need me.”

You whimpered, nails dragging down his back as he leaned in, voice dark and delicious in your ear.

“I’ve waited years for this, Peach. I’m not stopping until you forget your name.”

He kissed you again, slower this time. Deeper. The kind of kiss that made your body melt, made your legs fall open, made you want to cry.

Your bodies ground together in a rhythm that felt filthy and perfect, a desperate.

Clothes disappeared. Hands roamed. Skin on skin, breathless and begging.

“Please,” you whispered, voice breaking. “Erik, please-”

He pulled back, eyes black with want.

“Anything you want,” he said, voice hoarse. “I’m yours.”

“I’m never letting you into a mosh pit again,” he growled, dragging his fingers down your thigh where a scrape still stung.

“I’m never wearing a bra again.”

He blinked.“God bless.”

You smirked and pressed into his hand like the brat you were,already warm, already soaked from adrenaline and the way his voice rasped when he was pissed and turned on at the same time.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice full of danger. “All needy and whiny. My little brat.”

And then,zip.

Your eyes dropped.

Holy shit.

Pierced. Leaking. Ready to ruin you.

Your lips parted involuntarily.

“Someone’s excited to meet me,” you purred, with innocence while inching closer .

“Count your blessings, sweetheart.” He grinned darkly.

Before you could say anything back, he slid into you in one brutal, perfect thrust,no warning, no mercy. You bit down on a gasp, but he was already there, covering your mouth with his, swallowing every moan like it was his favorite song.

And it was. You could feel it. The way he moved. The way his hands gripped your waist like a lifeline. The way his tongue tangled with yours like it was personal.

“Fuck, Peach,” he groaned against your lips. “You feel like you were made for me.”

One hand found your breasts ,thumb brushing your nipple until your back arched like a string had snapped inside you.

“This tent is too damn small-” he grunted.

You barely got the words out: “Then let me ride you.”

That flipped a switch.

In one slick, filthy motion, he rolled and pulled you onto him, guiding your hips like he was building a symphony from chaos.

You settled over him, breath caught in your throat as his piercing brushed that sweet, unbearable spot deep inside you.

“Please guide me,” you whispered, already shaking.

His eyes were black with hunger as he took your hips in both hands and slammed you down, making you cry out.

“Always, baby. I got you.”

And he did. Every bounce. Every drag. Every time your thighs quivered and your moans turned breathless, he was right there, helping you fall apart and loving every second.

“You’re a fuckin’ angel, Peach,” he said through gritted teeth, voice rumbling against your ribs like thunder. “So pretty, so loud for me-keep goin’, I wanna feel you fall apart.”

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak.

You just moved.

Riding that high with his fingers digging in, his mouth back on your throat, his breath hot against your shoulder, whispering filth you didn’t have the brain cells left to process.

Until it hit.

That snap. That white-hot, stars-exploding, everything-blurring release.

You collapsed against him, shaking, babbling something like his name and a curse and maybe a love confession.

And Erik-sweaty, gorgeous, wrecked,wrapped his arms around you like you were made of glass and buried his face in your neck as he followed, cursing against your skin.

Silence.

Then:

“I think I saw God,” you mumbled.

Erik laughed,that deep, post-orgasmic wheeze of a man who knows he did that.

“If God’s in this tent, we’re both going to hell.”

You didn’t care.

You were in his lap. Still full of him. And the world could wait.

Because for once, you didn’t feel broken.

You just felt his.

You woke up to the smell of sweat, sex, and the faint scent of Julia’s anxiety coffee wafting in from outside the tent.

Your legs were jelly. Your throat was wrecked. Your body?

Fully used. Thoroughly destroyed. Proudly ruined.

You shifted slightly and winced.

“Fuck,” you muttered, flopping back onto the sleeping bag like your bones were made of mashed potatoes. “He actually broke me.”

A voice, dangerously smug, purred beside you:

“That’s what happens when you tell me to go crazy, sweetheart.”

You whipped your head toward Erik, who was lying on his side like a smug little slut .Bedhead. Hickey-covered chest. That damn piercing catching the light. Still naked.

And grinning like the devil just gave him a participation trophy .

“I should slap you.”

He reached over and trailed his fingers down your bare stomach. “You did. Repeatedly. Pretty sure you left claw marks on my back too.”

You flushed.

“…You deserved them.”

“You moaned my name like a prayer and then cried after the third—”

“ERIK.”

He smirked. “You started it, Peach.”

You groaned and shoved your face into the hoodie he’d thrown over you sometime during the night. It still smelled like him. Sin. Laundry soap. Regret. Lust. Possibly weed.

Then, the sound that could strike fear into your horny little heart:

“I KNOW YOU’RE AWAKE, SLUTS!”

Julia.

“IF THAT TENT SMELLS LIKE REGRET AND CUM, I’M BURNING IT.”

You choked on your own oxygen.

Erik grinned. “She’s so supportive.”

You shoved his face into a pillow.

Outside, Julia continued:

“I BOUGHT DONUTS AND THREE TYPES OF GATORADE. BUT NO ONE GETS ANY UNTIL I GET DETAILS. AND YES, I’M YELLING. BECAUSE YOU BUTT DIALED ME AGAIN AND I HEARD EVERYTHING.”

You buried yourself deeper in the hoodie. “I’m never showing my face again.”

Erik sat up and stretched,like a cat who just knocked everything off your emotional shelf.

“You sure you’re gonna be able to walk?”

You glared at him. “If I limp, I’m telling everyone you punched me.”

“You screamed my name loud enough, babe. No one’s gonna believe that.”

You threw a boot at his head.

You eventually emerged wearing his hoodie (because yours had mysteriously vanished), his hickeys, and the haunting realization that your knees were still shaking.

Julia handed you a donut and a coffee with a grin.

“You got railed so hard the rats left the campsite out of respect.”

Erik, unbothered and half-dressed, just sipped his Gatorade like a post-sex Olympic gold medalist.

Brad and TikTok Barbie walked past at the worst possible moment.

You locked eyes with your ex.

Erik stood, walked over, and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind like he had every right to. And he did.

“Morning, Brad,” he said cheerfully. “Peach couldn’t walk this morning. I take full responsibility.”

You blinked.

Barbie gasped.

Brad’s jaw clenched so hard it could’ve snapped.

Julia whispered, “Ten outta ten. Emmy-worthy.”

You turned, grabbed Erik by the shirt, and pulled him down for a kiss that was all tongue, bite, and I dare you to look away.

When you pulled back, Erik looked dazed.

“I’m keeping you,” he muttered.

“You better,” you whispered, voice low.

Brad stormed off.

Julia did a backflip emotionally.

And you? You leaned into Erik, bruised and aching and alive in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

“Same tent tonight?” he asked, voice in your ear, already smug again.

You grinned.

“Only if you promise to break me again.”

[nottysnake]

like real lovers do

☆pairing: theodore nott x reader

★wc: 1.7k

☆genre: fluff, angst

★summary: theodore keeps getting into fights and you need to know why. 

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

loud. that’s all your head could process with the boosted bass coming from the speakers in the middle of the slytherin common room. 

“fuck, it stinks in here.” pansy says, sitting on my right. “mattheo threw the party this time. what do you expect, no weed?”i say. pansy snorts, “yeah right, he couldn’t last an hour without it, he’d ended up assaulting someone.” “that’s not true pans and you know it. that “someone” would be dead, not injured,” mattheo says, coming up from behind the couch we are sitting on, arm wrapped around theodore’s broad shoulders. i look up and see theo, finally seeing his face up close and not from across the room. “woah what the fuck happened to your face?” the flashing green lights can’t mask the big purple, swelling bruise forming on the bottom left of his jaw. i quickly sit up on my knees, turning to face theo while leaning against the back of the velvet dark green couch, courtesy of mr. malfoy.

 i reach up and carefully place my hand on the unaffected side of theo’s jaw. it’s a nasty looking bruise, but all i can think about is how close i am to theo and the fact that the minty gum he is chewing is causing my mouth to water. “nothing.” he says while grabbing the palm of my hand. “liaaaaaar” pansy and matt say in unison. pansy gets up “alrighty, i’m not getting involved in this one, good luck nott.” she says while leaving, quickly making her exit. i narrow my eyes at theodore, who is currently smirking. mattheo unwraps his arm from theo’s shoulder. “as much as i like when you rip him a new one, i somehow always get yelled at too, so i am just gonna…” mattheo drifts off, leaving us, and the bruise, alone. 

“why won’t you stop.” “stop what, piccolo?” his voice is raspy. i can now distinguish  the faint smell of weed and firewhisky. he must’ve started chewing gum before they came up to us, he knows i hate firewhisky.  my heart stops for a second and my eyes soften at the name he uses for me. he rounds the couch to sit on my right, never letting go of my hand. i shift towards him still on my knees, leaning towards his jaw to get a better look. “you can’t call me that when you’re in trouble” i say frowning. taking my hand back and placing them on my lap, looking down trying to figure out what to say.  yeah, i get upset when matty gets hurt when he fights someone for talking shit during a quidditch match. or when draco and potter get into it for whatever merlinforsaken reason. but when it’s theo, it's completely different. my heart feels like it physically stops and my lungs stop working. my chest tightens and my eyes blur.

“what's wrong pico-”

 “you know what’s wrong, i hate when you do this.” i whine. “it's too frequent now, you got detention for fighting with pucey the other day, you’re making them every week practically. your eye JUST healed and now you have to wait on your jaw to get better. i just don’t ge-” im swiftly cut off my being pulled into his side. maneuvering my legs to be splayed out over his instead of towards him. his left hand is now rubbing my back, while his other is holding my head, i close my eyes and sigh while i feel his lips against the top of my head “im sorry, baby”  i lean in closer, finding shelter in the crook of his neck. “then tell me why, you never tell me what happens, just that you beat the shit out of these people and that you’re sorry. don’t i deserve more than that if you're gonna continue making this a habit and making me sad every time i see another mark on you?” 

it's his turn to sigh now, “stop looking too much into it.”

 with that, i get up from the very comfy and warm seat that is his lap, and walk away. weaving in and out of people who are very drunk and probably very high. i’m getting bumped into by people and the dress i am wearing, that is already very short, is getting slowly higher and higher due to the amount of dancing drunk idiots run into me, riding it up. i can hear theo telling people to fuck off or get the fuck out of the waymeaning he is catching up. however, i am able to weave in and out faster than him. reaching the stairs, i get ready to ascend the ones to the right which leads to the girls dormitories, but i am grabbed by the waist before i can even make the first step. i gasp and tense , but a quick look down confirmed it is theo by the watch he is wearing that i got him for christmas two years ago. dang it, he caught up.

i relax, letting him now lead me up the stairs on the left, probably to his dorm room. he is still behind me, and his arm is still around my waist. each step we take, the closer i feel his body on mine, and the more im hyperaware of it. “let me go” even though i really don’t want him to. “okay” he let me go, but once we made it to his room. he opened the door and guided me through. no one was in there, draco must’ve been with pansy. lorenzo and mattheo were probably drinking, and blaise was probably hooking up with some girl who he will fall in love with for the next week and then forgets exists the next. i’d bet accuracy on that one. 

as he shuts the door behind us, he lets go of my waist. suddenly,  it;s cold, and my mouth temporarily frowns before he turns me around to face him with his arms on my shoulder. he ducks down to look into my eyes, “i am sorry piccolo. i’m not sorry for doing it, but im sorry that i upset you when i do and i still do it knowin that. i just react.” his face is genuine and his words are slow, something that happens when he is telling the truth. “please tell me why, maybe i can help.” he closes his eyes for a second and then takes a deep breath. opening his eyes, he moves his hands to my face, cradling me like i'm the most precious thing in the world. “they deserved it. adrian was telling a couple of his blokes in the courtyard that he wanted to fuck you. he was saying all the vulagar things he would do to you and i heard it and i snapped,” he starts, breathing heavily “i didn’t even think, i just went at him. his lads got scared and left, but i knew who they were and whenever i saw them i just beat the fuck out of them for laughing at what he said. that’s what happened tonight. they all deserved it for fucking with you so im not gonna say sorry for giving them what they deserved.” 

“you got hurt though”

 “i’d get beat to the brink of death to defend you and make sure you're safe. i couldnt give a fuck less if i get hurt”

 “but i do theo, i give a fuck!” i yell, my voice cracking while my tears start to well. his eyes widen, bringing me into a hug. his arms squeeze around me and i am home.  

“smettila di piangere amore mio” (stop crying my love).”he whispers.

”i dont even know what that means” i muffle against his chest. his hands soothing me, leaving a trail of heat on their wake. 

he chuckles, “why are you crying?” 

i dig deeper into his chest, “i don’t want you to hurt. i don't want you bruised. i just want you to be okay. i get stressed whenever i think about you in any state of harm and it hurts my heart. i don't care what they were saying about me. they don't matter. you do” 

i feel his lips on my forehead. “i care what they say about you. they cant just speak ill of what's mine. especially you, piccolo”. theo moves his arms to wrap around my waist once again. finding solace against him, i wrap mine around his shoulders. with instinct, theo starts to lift me and my legs find shelter around his hips. the bottom of the short black dress i wore to the party is surprisingly not exposing me, but i feel one of his hands position right under my thighs to stabilize myself against him as he moves us to his bed. he sits down against the headboard, now making it so i am sitting/laying atop him, arms still wrapped around his shoulders. “look at me” he whispers. i shake my head. “tesoro, look at me.” i sigh, tilting my head to comply. my eyes reach his, except they don't meet mine. i am looking at his eyes, while he is looking down, at my lips. i breathe shakily, and he copies.

 “fuck it” and with that, he kisses me, and i am in heaven. he grabs my face, and i feel every emotion theo is feeling right now. All for me. 

the kiss is sweet, not rough, like everything theodore nott embodies. theodore nott loves me, and i love him. and not like how best friends love each other. like real lovers do.

theo pulls away panting, and i open my eyes to meet his. “i love you piccolo. i love you and i won't let anyone speak of you like that. ever.” my heart swells at his confession.

“ i love you too theo.” i pause, then smirk. “if you really loved me, you wouldn’t get into more fights.” 

ha, now he's backed in a corner. 

my celebration is quickly turned into surprise as theo flips us, and my back collides with the soft mattress of his bed. he is leaning over me now,smirking, and my brain stops working. “shut up and let me kiss you as my apologies, i can get yelled at later. i want you now.” and so he does, and so i forget why he was in trouble. i just focus on his sweet lips on my lips, and i am euphoric.

[cameronsbabydoll]

I’m not sure if it’s still going but I’m a literal SUCKER for your bimbo!reader fics w/ the pogues… like the way you write is so so gorgeous, anyways i was wondering if you could do a piece, I don’t mind the plot really but basically bimbo!reader and jj smut!!! It’s so okay if not but you write so well and I’m so obsessed w their dynamic… okay im rambling now

thank you lovie ◞૮꒰ ˶> ༝ <˶꒱ა


trouble in sparkles

jj maybank x bimbo!reader

warnings: smut, suggestive language, possessive behavior, mdni 18+

the sun was dipping low, painting the beach in shades of pink and gold, and you were totally feeling the vibe. your sparkly pink bikini was, like, so cute, and the way the tiny straps tied around your neck made you feel like a total princess. you twirled a strand of hair around your finger, glossed lips popping as you chewed on some strawberry gum, scanning the bonfire party for him. jj. the guy who made your heart do that dumb little flippy thing every time he smirked at you.

“there’s my girl,” came that low, teasing drawl, and you spun around, nearly dropping your glittery phone case. jj was leaning against a palm tree, all messy blond hair and that stupidly hot cutoff tank that showed off his arms. his blue eyes raked over you, lingering on the way your bikini hugged your curves, and you felt that familiar heat creep up your cheeks.

“jj!” you squealed, bouncing over to him, your heels sinking into the sand. “i was, like, totally looking for you! this party’s fun, but it’s, um, way better now.” you tilted your head, batting your lashes, and he chuckled, stepping closer. his hand brushed your waist, fingers grazing the bare skin just above your bikini bottom, and you shivered.

“better now, huh?” he murmured, voice all low and raspy, the kind that made your brain go fuzzy. “you lookin’ like a whole damn snack out here, princess. makin’ it real hard to behave.” his thumb traced a slow circle on your hip, and you giggled, pressing yourself closer, your hands sliding up his chest.

“behave? since when do you do that?” you teased, popping your gum and giving him your best pout. “i wore this just for you, y’know. thought you’d like the sparkles.” you did a little shimmy, and his grip tightened, eyes darkening.

“fuck, you’re trouble,” he muttered, pulling you toward the edge of the party, where the music faded and the waves crashed softly. before you could say anything, he backed you against a dune, one hand cupping your jaw, the other sliding down to hook your thigh around his waist. “you got no idea what you do to me, do you?”

your breath hitched, and you blinked up at him, all wide-eyed and fluttery. “mmm, maybe you should, like, show me?” you whispered, lips brushing his as you spoke. that was all it took. his mouth crashed into yours, hot and hungry, tasting like saltwater and the beer he’d been sipping. you whimpered, fingers tangling in his hair, your body arching into him as he kissed you like he was starving.

his hand slipped under your bikini top, calloused fingers teasing just enough to make you gasp, and he grinned against your lips. “so fuckin’ pretty when you make those noises,” he mumbled, nipping at your bottom lip. you were a mess, all giggles and moans, your gloss probably smeared, but you didn’t care. jj’s hands were everywhere, and the way he was pressing himself against you had your head spinning.

“jj, you’re gonna, like, ruin my makeup,” you pouted, even as you pulled him closer, legs wrapping around him. he groaned, lifting you effortlessly, pinning you against the dune as his lips trailed down your neck, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark.

“good,” he growled, smirking. “want everyone to know you’re mine, baby.” and with the way he was touching you, the party fading into nothing but background noise, you were pretty sure you’d let him do just about anything.

[heartsiebyul]

wait im back and have an actual request of my own lolls, can i geeettt

Twst characters with an s/o who likes to have things in their mouth, not in a sexual way but just to keep them occupied and "neutral" i guess... for example (🤓☝️) s/o having some chewable necklaces, pencils with alot of bite marks, and even if their dating Character they ask if they can chew on their fingers (I would also specially like Kalim but any other characters are up to you!) heh thats it :3 ☀️

Twisted Wonderland characters when their lover always needs to chew on something to stay calm and occupied.

(Featuring: Kalim, Ruggie, Jade, Ace, and Silver)

Kalim Al-Asim

“Huh? You wanna chew on my fingers?” Kalim asks, eyes wide with a mix of surprise and excitement. “That’s so funny—okay!”

He’s super into it. Not in a fetish way—he just loves that you’re being vulnerable and honest with him.

Starts ordering cute chewable jewelry for you in your favorite colors. “(name), I found this one shaped like a little sun! Isn’t it perfect for you?”

If you're sitting next to him, he’ll absentmindedly offer his hand. “Need something?” he whispers with a grin.

His fingers are always warm and soft because he wears so much jewelry. Sometimes he wiggles them just to make you laugh while they’re in your mouth.

Ruggie Bucchi

“Wait… you chew stuff? Like, on purpose?”

At first, Ruggie thinks it’s a nervous habit, but once he realizes it calms you, he kinda shrugs. “Eh, whatever works.”

He starts keeping spare straws, pencil toppers, or even gums in his bag for you. “Don’t be chewing up your expensive pens, (name). Chew this instead.”

If you ask to chew on his fingers, he goes bright red. “Wha—?! I mean… sure, I guess?? Just don’t bite me, jeez.”

Lowkey finds it endearing and starts offering his hand when he notices you getting antsy. “You want the usual? Go ahead. Just be gentle.”

Jade Leech

Jade’s eyes twinkle with that signature mischief. “How fascinating… So oral fixation helps you stay neutral?”

He’s more than happy to indulge you, but he’s going to analyze it like a biologist with a new creature.

“I suppose this gives ‘finger food’ a new meaning,” he teases, slipping his glove off slowly.

He experiments with giving you different textures to chew on, coral-inspired chew toys, smooth sea glass necklaces, even salted licorice from the Coral Sea.

If you get shy about the habit, he tilts your chin and says, “There’s nothing strange about it, (name). I rather enjoy being part of your comfort.”

Ace Trappola

“Hold on. You’re telling me… you asked to chew on my fingers?”

Cue blushing, flustered Ace short-circuiting. “That’s so weird. You’re weird. I like you anyway, though.”

Once he gets over the shock, he actually finds it funny and adorable. “Alright, come here, weirdo. Which one do you want today—pointer or pinkie?”

Starts leaving chewed-up pencil stubs in your bag just to mess with you. “Figured you’d need a fresh one.”

If you’re anxious or unfocused, he’ll just casually stick a lollipop in your mouth. “Don’t say I never take care of you.”

Silver

You: “Can I chew on your fingers for a bit?”

Silver: blinks slowly “…Sure.”

Doesn’t even question it. He accepts your habits like they’re part of your breathing pattern.

He has that soft, calm energy that makes it easy for you to relax. His hands are strong and clean, and he just lets you do your thing while he reads or rests.

Once he falls asleep, his hand might still be in your lap—and if you quietly start chewing again, he doesn’t even stir.

Later, “I had a dream you were chewing on my hand… Oh, it wasn’t a dream?” gentle chuckle

I hope I did good with this request 😭

[sccrim]

she’s just like candy ── toji fushiguro

ʬʬ . warnings ▧ ▧ smut w plot , teasing , choking , slapping , hair grabbing , oral male , degrading , praising , spitting , public sex , pnv , unprotected , cream pies

you teasing toji everytime he was around you. eventually he couldn’t take it anymore

i hope you guys enjoyed this as much as i did.

1.3k words not proof read

"sorry to interrupt, but here's everyone's coffee." you spoke, giving everyone each of their coffees. you never mind grabbing them since it was always on gojos business card and he always insisted on you buying yourself coffee too.

"i didn't forget about your detail coffee mr. fushiguro." you smiled and place the drinks in the middle. you were bent over the around table. toji leaned back with his finger on his chin seeing your whole ass now. the way your short tight shirt fit perfectly against your thighs and ass. "anything else for you mr. gojo?" gojo nodding his head no. you smiled at everyone and closing the door behind you. toji reminiscing the way your outfit was tight on you.

you sat at your desk going through gojos schedule to add on or take off things he wanted. when you looked up, you saw toji. he couldn’t keep his eyes off your breast. you had on a white button up sleeve but since your boobs popped out you had a couple buttons off. "can i help you mr. fushiguro." you smiled. "why did you have to work for gojo and not me." he fake frowned. "because i wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you." you laughed. god, he loved that laugh. the way your smile lit up the room.

"i wouldn’t mind you getting me coffee anytime."

"who said i couldn’t get you coffee everyday. your one floor up." you teased. to be fair you always flirted with all the upper males. it just made your job easier for the day. women hated you for it but you didn’t care. you never once got complained on. "i don’t think gojo would mind if i stole you for a couple weeks."

"to do what for you mr. fushiguro? you have an assistant already." you playing around with your pen. toji eyeing your every move. "come find out." you laughed. you picked up the phone seeing that it was gojo. "yes sir?" you applied gloss on your lips. you didn’t care that toji was right in front of you. if anything you liked it. the way he would want your lips on him. "yes sir, i’ll get it done right away." you hung up the phone. "sorry mr. fushiguro duty calls." you winked, walking off.

if eyes could fuck, yours would be amazing. fushiguro groaned in annoyance, feeling his cock about to turn rock solid. "im done with this game." he whispered trying to find you.

you chewing your gum, waiting for the printer to print the copies for gojos next meeting. "come on." you rolled your eyes, seeing that the printer stopped functioning. you bent down to pull the cord and plug it back in. you heard the printer restart. "better fucking work." you spoke. you turned your body hearing the door close. "stalking now? thought you were better then this."

"i’m done with your games y/n."

"what games?"

"come on, don’t act stupid."

"you know what’s funny?" you laughed. "hm?" he walked closer to you as you were leaning against the counter. "everytime we have a conversation, you always seem to get hard? and yet you never seem to find me and fuck me." bold of you. "you have no idea how bad i wanna fuck the shit out of you."

"tell me mr. fushiguro, how bad?" you looked up at him with your lashes. toji getting closer to you. "i want you screaming my fucking name. telling me don’t stop. i want you in tears."

you got on your knees, unbuckling his belt. toji placing his hand on your chin while moving his thumb against your lips. "be a good girl and spit on it." he whispered. your saliva hitting his tip. your hand pumping his dick causing him to lean his head back. you place his dick in your mouth. going back and forth. toji soft moaning. gripping your head guiding you to go faster. the faster you went the more gagging happened.

he did not give a fuck. it turned him on even more. the way your mouth wrapped while his dick perfectly. you placing your other hand on the other half that couldn’t fit in your mouth. toji looking down at you. "fuck, take it all." he spoke. toji now, rocking back and forth as you continued to devour his cock. "look at you, being a fucking slut for me. how would gojo feel if he saw you being a dirty fucking slut in his printer room."

"unbutton your shirt."

you took your shirt off while he was pumping his dick. toji watched your take off your shirt when he lifted you up. you now sitting on your counter. he lifted your shirt up seeing your black thong. toji tapping his dick against your clit. he could tell you were wet just by the moist noise from just his dick tapping your wet pussy. "look how wet you are for me." he couldn’t wait any longer, he slammed into you, causing you to moan. toji thrusting into you at a fast pace. his head on your shoulder moaning.

"so. fucking. wet."

"toji—"

toji gripping your hair causing your head to lean back. toji giving your kisses on your neck. "holy fuck. y/n." he kept the same pace. hitting your g spot. "please toji— don’t stop."

"shit feels good huh?"

"fucking speak." you moaned in agreement. "can’t even speak. fucking pathetic." he kissed his teeth. "open your mouth for me." toji spitting in your mouth. you had never been fucked this good. "i’m gonna—"

"cum for me."your body shaking. "i’m not finished with you yet." toji turning you around. he slammed back into you. "i don’t care how many times you cum, you’re gonna be screaming for me." he slapped your ass causing it to be red. he placed his hands on your shoulder, thrusting into you. "you feel so fucking good." he moaned. his balls slapping against you. "toji—" you moaned back.

this is what he wanted and he got it. all those times you teased him with bending over, rubbing your leg against his, the way you placed your gloss right in front of him. "be a good doll and suck on my finger." he placed his finger in your mouth. toji getting harder, feeling how wet his finger was. "baby, you’re so fucking perfect. your pussy was made just for me." this man was so pussy whipped and you didn’t even care. you loved how his dick fit so perfect in you.

he wrapped his hand around ur neck, slamming into you. his other hand in front of your clit, rubbing it in circles. your body began to shake again. "i’m cumming—" toji loved this.

your body wanted more. you knew you would be sore but you did not care. you wanted this more than ever. your phone began to ring. "answer it." you nodded your head no. "fucking answer it." you grabbed your phone and swiped to answer it. it was gojo. fuck. "yes mr. gojo?" you tried so hard not to moan. "yes, sorry about the wait. the printer had to reset. so i had to reprint them. i’ll be done soon." toji going at a fast pace.

"fuck." you moaned. "if only he knew." he laughed. toji placed his hands on your hips, all you hear is the clapping against each others skin. "hang on just a little longer for me, doll." he moaned about to come to his climax. thrusting fasted and faster. "fuck i’m gonna cum." he pulled out and snapped his finger for you to get on ur knees.

pumping his dick as you opened your mouth. "fuck—" his breathing getting heavier, trying to catch his breath. "swallow it all for me." he finished in your mouth. you looked up at him with your innocent eyes following his command. "now go give gojo his papers." he smiled.

tags . @rissouu

 sccrim — all rights reserved. please do not modify, repost , translate , or plagiarise my content.

[iamthatonefangirl]

this just have been on my mind, i don't think I ever saw someone talk about but: CEO!Bucky with a loser!reader. bear with me, he's rich, he is a respectable man, has the fanciest shit ever, drink and eat the best; but he meets reader who's absolutely feeds on junk food and energy drink, she dresses in loose clothes and bedroom is a mess and people ask how did she pulled a man like Bucky.

(you can absolutely ignore this if it's not your cup of tea, im just rambling and projecting at this point)

wait no I totally see your vision anon.

*heads up for this one I am NOT trying to shame anybody’s food or lifestyle choices!

like imagine when you first meet it’s a whole awkward thing like,

imagine you’re in a grocery store. you’re walking down the aisle with a basket on your arm. you’re not paying a lick of attention to where you’re going, staring down at your phone with chunky over-the-ear headphones on and chewing gum annoyingly

he’s trying to keep his head down and not get noticed. most of the time he loves the luxurious life but sometimes it’s nice to pretend to be normal

you’re walking to the end of the aisle and you totally bump into him as he’s walking the other way

“so sorry!” you tell him casually, yanking your headphones off your ears. “total accident. my bad.” you’re still chewing the gum loudly, mouth wide open as you do.

“no, it’s okay,” he responds politely, noticing the way you’ve stopped to look at him. he wonders if you’re about to say something to him, being who he is

you look down to his basket. “wow, look at you, mr health nut,” you tease with a snort.

he looks down to his basket and back up to your slightly amused expression. he laughs a little bit. you have no clue who he is, you realize

he sees your basket full of nothing but processed crap. boxed kraft mac n cheese, white monster energy drinks, instant coffee, sugary cereals, etc

it’s insanely refreshing for him to see

“you… don’t know me?” he asks

“don’t believe we’ve met, no,” you say, shuffling all your stuff to your right arm and jutting out the left arm to shake his hand

it’s hilarious to him that you don’t even know proper handshake etiquette

he gently squeezes your hand, amused, and you’re completely oblivious. you tell him your name with a crack of the gum in your mouth and he tells you his

“you really don’t know me?”

“no, sir, i don’t!” you smile, your confidence never once faltering

“the ceo of <idk some rando company>?”

“oh! that’s you? congrats, by the way!”

you’re the funniest fucking thing ever and he adores it. he loves how fucking carefree you are. how you don’t even know him

“can i take you to dinner sometime?” he offers.

“nah, not if you’re gonna serve me that crap,” you smirk, pointing to the stuff in his basket. “i’ll make you macaroni, though,”

when’s the last time he had boxed macaroni and cheese?

“okay,” he laughs.

you intrigue him, and he loves your snarkiness. the sex you have that night after eating macaroni is fucking intense

you keep him honest. he’s only partially a capitalist prick but you keep him humble and grounded. and you refuse to go to events with him, but he’s okay with that. it’s not your scene. and he’ll gladly come home to fuck you and eat macaroni with you

okay i also completely just rambled!

[sknyuz]

Hello! Congratulations on 400 followers, i love your writing and you definitely deserve it💜

I was wondering if i could request an Scoups x reader with the song Still into you by Paramore? Super fluffy please

Here's to many more followers💜

still into you - c.s.c.

now playing — still into you - paramore pairing — choi seungcheol (s.coups) x reader genre — highschool sweethearts, romance, fluff, slice of life, strangers to lovers to married couple !! cw — usual casual skinship, a little bit of a lover’s quarrel, cheol is so into you wc — ~3k

note: oh cheol my beloved !! i love this so much and i hope u guys love reading it just as much as i did writing it (ㅅ´ ˘ `) so happy to finally welcome cheol to my growing masterlist !! thank u @reiofsuns2001 for this request !! im so sorry it took so long, rei >><< sobs i have so much piled up !!

11 out of 13 members, three to go !! so pretty plz request any china line: jun or hao (plsplspls i ult him)

can't count the years on one hand that we've been together...

you always sat at the front of the class—highlighters in perfect color-coded rows, your handwriting criminally neat, the kind teachers loved to show off as an example. you didn’t talk much because you didn’t need to. your grades spoke for you.

seungcheol, on the other hand, was sat behind you. laughing with his team in the hallways, quiet in class, his football varsity jacket nearly always slipping off one shoulder. he chewed gum when he wasn’t supposed to, passed notes to his friends during lectures, and somehow still managed to charm every teacher in the building.

you weren’t supposed to end up together,

you were the scholarship student, the overachiever. seungcheol was the football team’s rising golden boy, all brawn and charming grins.

but one day in sophomore year, he leaned forward with a crooked smile and an awkward scratch to the back of his neck.

“hey… can i borrow a pencil? i swear i’ll give it back.”

you didn’t answer, just handed him your backup—a pink mechanical pencil that had a little heart-shaped eraser on the end. he grinned, mouthed a silent “thank you” as you rolled your eyes and turned back around.

you never got that pencil back.

but three weeks later, he offered you a ride home after late labs, nervous hand gripping the steering wheel of his dad’s honda civic.

“i kinda owe you, y’know?” he huffed, the lamest excuse to spend a little time with you. “wanna maybe... grab a meal before i take you home?”

and you said yes. he told his teammates about it the next morning in the locker rooms like it was the biggest win of his life.

now, several years later, you’re sitting beside him in the university library, quizzing him on finance terms you already know by heart.

you’re wearing that same battered varsity jacket—the one with the stitched-on patch from your high school. it’s a little faded now, the sleeves too long with the collar fraying. but it smells like seungcheol and fits like a memory, and he always says it looks better on you anyway.

his arm is draped around your waist, hand resting gently on your thigh as you lean into him. the world outside is cold, deadlines piling up, futures uncertain. but in this quiet corner of campus, you’re just the girl who gave him a pencil, and he’s still the boy who forgot his.

seungcheol glances down at you, eyes full of something warm and familiar. “hey, babe. how long have we been together?” he suddenly pipes up, eyes scanning yours. “like... six years...?” you murmur, eyes still trained on the flashcards you were organizing. “that’s wild.” he whispers, mostly to himself. you smile at this, brushing your thumb against his knuckles. “yeah, and you still haven’t given back my pencil.”

he groans, burying his face in your shoulder. “you’re never gonna let that go, huh?”

“never,” you laugh, and in your chest, something soft tugs.

because after all those years later, it’s still him. it’s still you and him against the world.

and, baby, even on our worst nights / i’m into you (i’m into you)

it wasn’t a good night.

you were both running on empty—too many deadlines, too little sleep. you had snapped first, voice sharp and exhausted, tossing a sarcastic comment over your shoulder when he forgot to pick up the takeout.

seungcheol snapped back. it didn’t happen often, but when it did, it hurt in ways neither of you liked admitting.

the apartment was quiet after that. he shut himself in the bedroom, while you curled up on the couch with a blanket and a dull ache behind your eyes.

you were halfway through scrolling aimlessly on your phone when you heard the bedroom door creak open.

seungcheol stood in the doorway, hair messy, eyes glassy with his brows furrowed. he looked younger like that—vulnerable in a way he didn’t let the world see. only you.

he didn’t say anything at first. just walked over and sank down beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. you didn’t lean into him—not yet—but you didn’t pull away either.

“i’m sorry,” he said quietly. “i didn’t mean to… y’know, be a jerk.”

you nodded, eyes still fixed on the screen. “me too.”

there was a pause. then his hand found yours beneath the blanket, fingers weaving through automatically, like muscle memory.

his thumb rubbed slow circles into your skin.

“we’re not perfect,” he said, almost to himself. “but… i’m still yours, even when we fight, or when it’s messy. especially then.”

you turned your head, finally meeting his eyes. they were tired, but soft. “me too,” you whispered. “even when you leave the laundry in the machine for three days.”

he snorted, “low blow.” but he leaned in, kissed your temple, and pulled you into his chest. you let yourself melt against him, the warmth of his familiar varsity jacket surrounding you again like home.

some nights were hard, but even on the worst of them—you never doubted the way seungcheol loved you, and he never let you forget it.

recount the night that i first met your mother / and on the drive back to my house, i told you that, i told you that i loved ya

seungcheol had never been the nervous type.

not even back in his first big game, when the whole stadium would hold its breath waiting for the quarterback to make the play, not during final exams, or during his first part-time job interview or the time he accidentally ripped his pants before a group presentation as a freshman.

but tonight?

tonight, now a high school senior, sitting across from your mother at the dinner table, spoon clutched too tight in his hand—he was spiraling.

“you’re sweating,” you whispered while passing him the kimchi, amusement sparkling in your eyes. “you literally played full-contact sports in summer and didn’t sweat this much.”

he shot you a betrayed look, cheeks flushed. “why didn’t you warn me your mom was so intense?”

“she’s not. she’s just... thorough,” you replied, clearly enjoying yourself far too much.

his hands were clammy, he kept adjusting his posture like that would magically make the nerves go away. this was worse than the championship game sophomore year, when the entire school was watching and he fumbled a play.

your mom, across the table, had a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes yet. her tone was kind, but her questions were anything but casual.

“so, seungcheol,” she said, folding her hands. “what exactly are your intentions?”

he blanked. the word ‘intentions’ echoed like a judge’s gavel in his skull. “uh... good ones?” he croaked, as your dad snorted into his drink. you kicked him gently under the table.

“i mean—i’ve been with y/n since we were sophomores,” seungcheol tried again, “and i... i’m really serious about them. always have been.”

your mom raised an eyebrow, making him want to just freaking disappear into the mashed potatoes.

still, she let him take leftovers when you left, in the nice, airtight lock containers, and that was a silent blessing if he ever saw one.

the car ride home was quiet at first. the hum of your shared playlist playing low through the speakers. you rested your hand on his thigh, thumb moving in slow circles.

“you did great, by the way,” you said softly.

“i bombed,” he sighed. “that was worse than any away game. ever. she had me sweating like i was back under the friday night lights.”

you smiled, turning your body toward him as the city lights streaked past the window. “she likes you, cheol. she just needed to see for herself what i already know.”

he glanced over at you, then back at the road. his grip on the wheel tightened, then loosened.

“i told myself i’d wait longer to say this,” he murmured. “but i’m kinda done waiting.”

your breath caught, turning your head fully toward him now.

“i love you,” he said, eyes still on the road but voice sure, steady—like a promise.

then, just as quickly, his bravado cracked, “you don’t have to say it back,” he rushed, hands tightening on the wheel. “i just—”

but you leaned across the console, cutting him off as you gently pressed your lips onto his cheek, and whispered, “say it again.”

seungcheol did. three more times before the red light turned green.

and from that night on, your mom always made sure to pack extra banchan for him “just in case.”

and to your favorite song / we sang along to the start of forever

that dumb summer playlist you made is still saved on his phone.

you pretend to hate it, rolling your eyes whenever “teenage dream” comes on.

but when your favorite track starts, seungcheol always turns the volume up, grinning like it’s some unspoken tradition.

he leans over and kisses your cheek, soft and sure—like he’s marking the moment.

that playlist becomes the background noise of your entire relationship: your fights, your makeups, those late-night fast food runs when neither of you want to be alone.

then one day, without much warning, he’s driving you back to that lake you used to sneak off to in high school.

the playlist is on shuffle, but you know he rigged it—because just as he pulls the car to a stop, your song starts to play.

he turns the volume up even louder, the corners of his mouth twitching into a nervous smile.

“remember this?” he asks softly, eyes locked on yours through the rearview mirror.

you nod, heart fluttering with all the memories: summer nights, laughter echoing over water, secrets shared under the stars.

he reaches over, slipping his varsity jacket off your shoulders and setting it carefully on the seat beside you.

his hand lingers near his pants pocket, fingers nervously tracing the small, worn box tucked inside—edges softened from years of carrying it around, though you don’t see it yet.

“i didn’t tell you where we were going,�� he says, voice low but steady, “but this place… this is where everything started, isn’t it?”

you remember the day he took you here before, that nervous grin on his face, chest puffed out like he’d just won a championship, and how, just before driving you back home, he finally asked you out—your heart racing as you said yes.

you glance out at the calm lake, a quiet smile curling your lips as the sky blushes with sunset.

he kills the engine, and the soft hum of the playlist continues through the car speakers.

seungcheol opens his door first and steps out into the fading gold of sunset, the breeze tugging gently at his shirt. he walks around to your side, and for a second, just stands there—one hand on the roof of the car, the other fidgeting at his side.

then he looks at you like he’s memorizing this—your expression lit by the warm spill of twilight, the way the music floats out from the open car, soft and familiar. there’s something tender in his eyes, a quiet awe, like he still can’t believe you’re his.

“come on,” he says finally, voice thick with emotion as he opens your door and holds out his hand.

and when you take it, he squeezes just a little tighter than usual, like he’s holding onto something sacred.

for a moment, the two of you just stand there.

the lake stretches out in front of you, still and familiar, kissed by the amber glow of early evening. the gravel crunches beneath your shoes as you step closer to the edge. seungcheol doesn’t say anything right away—he just watches you, eyes searching your face like he's trying to soak up every detail.

his hand slips from yours briefly, brushing down the side of his jeans. you notice the subtle way he fiddles with something in his pocket, but before you can ask, he draws in a breath.

then, slowly, almost reverently, he lowers himself onto one knee. right there by the water’s edge, golden light spilling over his shoulders like something out of a dream.

your breath catches before your mind even fully registers what’s happening.

you blink—once, twice—like you’re trying to memorize every second, to lock it into place. the lake, the sky, the song drifting from the car, the way his hair glows like it’s lit from within. he looks up at you with that same expression he wore the night he first asked you out—hopeful, wide open, like you hung the stars.

your heart pounds so hard it almost hurts. not out of surprise, but because this moment feels so full, so right, it could spill over. it’s everything at once—past, present, future—folding into one perfect, dizzying breath. and when seungcheol speaks, you can’t help but feel all choked up.

“some things just make sense,” he says, eyes never leaving yours. “and one of those is you and i.” he opens the box to reveal a simple, perfect ring.

“not a day’s gone by that i haven’t been into you, so let’s make it forever.”

your breath catches as you feel hot tears start to pool in your eyes, and you reach out to pull him up—nodding eagerly, the start of forever written in the way your fingers find his, unshakable.

let 'em wonder how we got this far / 'cause i don't really need to wonder at all

mingyu’s trying to fix his tie in the mirror, frowning like the fabric personally offended him. “does anyone actually know how to do this right?”

jeonghan laughs from the couch, sipping a bottle of water. “you’re hopeless. give it here.”

across the room, seungkwan is adjusting the boutonnière on seungcheol’s lapel, squinting with all the concentration of a man diffusing a bomb. “stay still, hyung. i swear if this thing falls off during your vows…”

“i’m not even moving,” seungcheol chuckles, but his hands are shaking slightly where they rest in his lap.

“still nervous?” dokyeom asks, nudging his shoulder.

“a little,” seungcheol admits. “but it’s a good kind.”

mingyu glances over his shoulder with a smirk. “can’t believe they’re still putting up with you after all these years.”

“seriously,” soonyoung adds from where he’s scrolling through photos on his phone. “i would’ve bailed after the ramen incident back in freshman year.”

“or the time you mixed up your anniversary date and took them to a haunted house instead of a dinner reservation,” minghao mutters, deadpan.

the room breaks into laughter, recalling you and seungcheol’s moments over the years.

seungcheol just laughs, rubbing the back of his neck as the room buzzes with teasing. “you know what? i don’t even wonder how we got here.”

mingyu raises an eyebrow in the mirror, “no?”

the groom shakes his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “not even a little. they’ve always been it for me.”

mingyu nods slowly, fixing his tie. “yeah… ‘cause they’re the only one who’s ever looked at you like you hung the damn stars.”

jeonghan lets out a low whistle, “look at these guys getting sentimental before the ceremony.”

“hyung’s earned it,” wonwoo says quietly from the corner.

but seungcheol doesn’t disagree. not when he’s about to walk down the aisle to the one person who’s still into him—even on his worst days.

you’re still into each other, and seungcheol never needed to wonder why.

yeah, after all this time / i'm still into you

the music swells, the doors open, and time stutters.

seungcheol forgets how to breathe.

you stand at the end of the aisle, framed by flowers and soft light, looking like something out of a memory and a promise all at once. seungcheol’s breath catches, the nerves from earlier melting into something quieter, deeper—reverence.

soft piano keys ripple through the air, a delicate, heartfelt rendition of still into you filling the room—each note tender, every pause holding the weight of years you’ve shared.

“holy shit,” mingyu whispers beside him, and jeonghan elbows him in the ribs.

but seungcheol doesn’t hear a thing—his eyes are only on you.

each step you take feels suspended in warmth, in years’ worth of laughter, fights, slow study sessions, and late-night drives in his beat-up honda civic that survived highschool and the transition to university. his hands tremble at his sides, jaw tight like he’s holding in everything he can’t say just yet.

when you finally reach him, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as you take his hands. they’re warm and familiar.

the officiant speaks, but it’s background noise. everything else fades away.

all seungcheol sees is you, and all you see is him.

and when it’s time—when the words are said, and the universe feels like it’s holding its breath—he leans in.

the kiss is soft, sure. not rushed. like he knows he has forever to do this again.

and again...

and again.

𐔌 . ⋮ taglist .ᐟ seventeen ֹ ₊ ꒱ @kstrucknet | @ateez-atiny380 @alien0n3arth @cuppasunu @dhaliaa1211 @seokminfilm @babilou-pov @crowneve @hhaechansmoless @triciawritesstuff @sopitadearvejas @slytherinshua @chronicfic @xh01bri @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @snowflakemoon3 @bbangbies @kibtsuji @dahlia-blossom @dhaliaa1211 @symphonies-of-poenies

[hamzfreak]

i pray that i can learn to be funny, im watching every stand up comedy.

__

Tonight everyone in class 1A was meeting up at a fancy restaurant. Aizawa was doing something nice for the class because he knew all of you worked hard when fighting villains.

So you put on your skims dress and a dark blue sweater. You slipped on your new, black converse, grabbed your purse, and walked downstairs to wait.

The bus ride was long and you were next to tsu and ochako because you offered to take the middle seat. They stared at your screen as you scrolled through tiktok, giggling every once in a while.

When you finally got to the restaurant, the workers looked like they were gonna pass out after they saw all the people, pushing tables together so that all of you could fit.

You sat next to Bakugo.

"UGHHHH. Do i have to sit next to her?" Bakugo groaned, looking at Aizawa.

"Not if someone is willing to switch with you. Anyone?" Aizawa asked, looking around. No one made a peep because they wanted to sit close to their friends. I was next to ochako but she was way too busy talking to izuku so i was stuck talking to Bakugo, i don't mind, but he might.

He stared at you, red eyes reflecting the dim light.

"If you're gonna stare, at least buy me dinner first." You chuckled, watching him quickly move his eyes to the waiter. "Shut up, i would never go on a date with someone like you." He murmured, looking at the menu. "Oh cmon, you love me don't you?" You groaned, looking at his beautiful blonde hair. He looked at you, eyebrows furrowing. "Oh you wish you could have me, y/n." He croaked. "Wow you remembered my name? Im flattered." You chimed. You saw a small smile on his face.

"You want gum?" You whispered. He turned his head. "We're about to get our food. " He growled. "It's gonna be a long wait though." You shrugged. "What's the catch?" He replied. "No catch babes." You said, taking out a pack of gum and holding it out for him to take a piece. He looked at the gum, then at you, then back at the gum. He grabbed a piece, opened it, put it in his mouth, and began to chew.

You looked at his mouth for a minute then spoke. "I put something in the gum." You added, knowing damn well you put nothing in the gum.

His eyes widened. "What?" He growled. You tried to keep a straight face as he looked shocked, but you couldn't. So you began to laugh.

"You should've seen the look on your face!" You said as you kept laughing. He rolled his eyes and looked at the table, a few chuckles coming out his mouth.

"Did you just laugh? I made you laugh, didn't I!" You reported, grabbing his shoulder. You felt the blush come onto your cheeks. He didn't push you off his shoulder, he just smiled at you.

[aviradasa]

Headconons on how the lost boys would react to their mate teething her new fangs?? (My teeth are aching and I had this thought LMAO)

I got you (this is such a late response, lmfao im so sorry about that.)

Tags: @vxncevis @sillyturquoisepuffin @thelostsimp @acotar-lover @gutlesscatherine @adams-fav-roach @theorizinganomaly @angstinaofsantacarla @thatonegirl2

Ok to start THEY UNDERSTAND YOUR PAIN BRO

Even though it was a long time ago since they have been turned, they still remember how it felt originally getting used to fangs

And sometimes it still happenes.

Especially to marko in particular because I have a feeling that his fangs are a bit sharper than the others and may cause more irritation.

They will tell you that chewing on stuff helps.

But then they instantly regret telling you cause when you do vamp out randomly (like I believe new vamps do) and you lose a bit of control they will find things torn up that they really did not want chewed up

Like for instance, leather on hurting gums is just 🤌.

Do with that as you will.

A bit of there main advice it cold things like water and holding ice to your gums.

They really do try their best to get you stuff to knaw on, tho

Like they see some plastic or rubber bracelets, rings, or just a random toy on the boardwalk thats nice and chewable

They already shoved it in their pocket, and when they get back, they are just like.

"Yo look what I got"

If pain does get really bad though to the point its causing other problems they will hang back to try to help in any way they can, but if there's nothing they can do about it they will kinda just hang out and try to provide a bit of comfort.

Now im guessing you wanna know the main event of will they let you sink you teeth into them.

I know you people

And the answer is duh.

Bro, they already bite each other for fun, of course. If you need something to sink your teeth into, they will let you.

But each of them has there boundaries with that.

Now, for instance, do Not full-on sink your teeth as far as you can into david without asking.

He does not like to be surprised, and it might just piss him off. But hey, if you ask first, sure.

He will probably not offer you up a neck or a shoulder at first, but you want a wrist? A forearm? Go for it.

And he dont care if you just want to knaw on like his coat or sleeve knock yourself out for all he cares.

He only really wants you to ask about full on bites cause bite on other vampires can take a bit to heal sometimes

Marko, dont give a FUCKK Go for it. Bite the shit out of him he doesnt give a damn. But again, consent is key, but he's more lenient. You wanna suprise attack him, go ahead but only suprise him by the arms. You probably wanna ask before going at him anywhere else.

But with him, there are no freebies. You get him, and he will get you back and you need to understand that.

But like I said before you just wanna knaw on him go ahead but he would prefer you leave the coat alone he will make that very clear

Paul is anything goes type of dude, go ahead do your worst. Suprise him, attack him. You can walk up and maul the guy if you want he doesnt care.

He probably thinks its funny to be honest. And will probably Crack jokes about it. Have your fun , but again he will get you back eventually.

And if you just wanna chew on him or something he owns, he'll yeah fuck it got ahead. He gives no shits like I've previously stated. He's just happy to help

Now, Dwayne is an interesting creature. It depends on his mood, he doesnt really care where. But surprises are uncertain. Sometimes he's cool with it. Other days, he dont wanna be touched..or talked to.. Or bothered.

If you catch him on a 'leave me alone day' he will probably just shake you off and just be like "not today" and its up to you on weather you respect that or not, but you probably should.

Otherwise go crazy, he also doesnt give a fuck it doesnt bother him one bit he will actively ignore it and let you do whatever as long as if hes doing something its not interrupted.

But honestly, that can go for all of them sometimes

And if you are just trying to chew on him? Have at it. Go crazy, have fun. He will just continue whatever he is doing while you just do your thing

Oh also honorable mention

I think human blood/flesh can dull the pain of the fangs hurting, so dont be surprised if you get a severed arm or leg to sink your teeth into as a gift once in a while.

Alright! That's it for now. I hope you enjoy. I kinda came up with these on the spot. Sorry if they weren't what you were hoping for. Nonetheless, I hope you liked sinking your teeth into these hcs even if they aren't much. Have a good night/day!!!

[quarterlifekitty]

a little continuation of SerialKiller!Ghost and Psychic!Reader

cw: obsessive behavior, kidnapping

You hear the splash of cooled black coffee against linoleum after the lights go out. It had been sitting on the corner of the table moments ago, just asking for mishap, while you faced borderline threats from the head investigator on the ghost case.

The gift had rarely ever been that. Scant were the times you could remember it having solved more problems than it created.

“Just stay here. Fucking breaker.” Shoes scuff against the tile. There’s a very faint beam of light from the reinforced window in the door— must be coming from the exit sign outside.

A gloved hand that smells like ash slides over your mouth, only for a moment, to suppress your instinctual urge to cry out. You’re just surprised, aren’t you? Didn’t expect prince charming to come save you so soon, yeah?

“Y’got no idea how difficult it was to keep from guttin’ ‘im like a fish, sweet’art. The way he spoke to you. But I ain’t ‘ere for that fuckworm. I’m ‘ere for my girl.” You feel his chuckle from the chest pressed to your back.

“Lotta trouble to get the princess away from ‘er royal guard. But I ain’t mad. Nothin’ that’s worth doin’ is ever easy.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Simon can tell from that line alone that you’re cooked. That your special little mind has gotten soft boiled from all the filth and love he’s been shoving into it. You’re more scared for him than scared of him, even if you don’t know it.

“Can’t stand to see you get used anymore, birdie. I know first ‘and what happens to used toys.”

“They’re not using me— it’s not like I’m doing this all for charity, they pay me—“

“That may be. But d’you really have a choice but to cooperate? Worked like a dog. Leashed like one. Punished like one.”

“And I’m supposed to think that the murderer who jacks off onto pictures of me would be better?” You ask, incredulous at the assertion. It takes you a moment to realize and regret the tone you’ve taken with a man who sees human life as something that can be chewed up and spit out for the momentary amusement of feeling it slide wetly against his gums.

“Darlin’— I’d let y’hold the knife to my throat. Let y’kill me, if that’s what you thought was best for us. But you’re like me. Deep down, y’got this big, selfish pit— and y’know I’m the only one who can fill it f’you. I’ve seen inside that pretty head.” And you’ve seen inside the rotting sickpit that’s his head. You’re caught in a bruising grip as he pulls you by the wrist through the darkened hall of the station, straight for the exit stairwell, but not before he knocks the phone from your hand and crushes it beneath his heel.

“I can’t– where are you taking me?! They’ll find me,” you say in an unsteady, pathetic facsimile of a threat.

“Don’t tell me they’ve got y’chipped, birdie. Jus’ gives me an excuse to go diggin’ through your skin with m’teeth,” he supplies, a perverse anticipation veiled thinly in his tone.

“I’ll scream–”

“If y’really meant that, you’d’ve done it soon as I took my hand away from that pretty, fuckable mouth.” A crack of setting, amber sunlight filters under the door just down another flight of stairs.

“When you’re back at mine, split and cryin’ on my cock, when you love me, you’ll see why I had to do this.”

[pjsfvs]

Angry sex with Tyun

paring : dom!taehyun x afab!reader

warnings/tags : angry sex, window/wall sex, im to lazy to do the rest.

summary : You and taehyun get into a heated argument, which leads to some good angry sex.

a/n : don't leave hate comments for me to see. if you don't like it just block me and leave.

“Taehyun, I told you, I’m done talking about this. I said I was sorry.”

“You were being irrational, Y/N?! Seriously?! You can’t just go charging into my rehearsal like that begging me to come along with you, for fucking boba! What if the members got distracted. Hm? They could have been hurt or worse!”

“I get that you were worried about them, and I know I was wrong for doing that, but you're the one who told me you were on break. It is not my fault. You can't put the whole blame on me.”

“Your so fucking annoying sometimes.”

“God, can you shut up and listen to me!? I don't know why I have to re-explain this to you again.” Taehyun stare at you incredulously, ready to interrupt but you continue on, “You told me that you missed me, and I wanted to see you, so I came when you texted me you were on break.”

“How long do you think our breaks are huh? Knowing we're about to have a comeback. Just how fucking long do you think these breaks last!?”

The argument is never-ending. Sweaty and red-faced, Taehyun is so close. So close that you can still smell the scent of spear mint on his breath from the gum he's been chewing. So close that you can see the dark circles under his eyes from the sleepless night and the height of his body, creating a shadow over your body. Your chests touch, both heaving from yelling back and forth. Staring him in the eyes, you have nothing else to say; left to communicate all your frustration through a silent glare. Neither one of you wants to be the first to break.

“Taehyun, I’m done doing this whenever you and the guy have a comeback. You can’t keep telling me to come see you while on break, just to get pissed at me afterwards. I’m done with that. I’m fucking done.” You keep repeating that last line to yourself more so than to him. A realization coming over you that you might not just be done arguing with Taehyun over this particular topic. You might also be finished with your relationship. If he wouldn’t make time, to see you, what's the point. Just one fucking glance, that's all you could ask for. If this is what you had to go through each time, you weren’t sure you could handle it.

Through his anger, Taehyun gives you a look of desperation, hoping that you both could come to some agreement. Shaking your head, you turn and walk away. You have nothing left to give.

“No. You don’t get to walk away like you always do. Not this time!” He yells, grabbing you by the shoulders and pressing you against the very door you were prepared to leave though. Pushing him away does nothing. He just comes back, forcing your back against the door again with a resounding thud. You want to deny it but the roughness of how he handles you causes a spark within you. You’re certain it’s affecting Taehyun too from the way his half-hard member brushes against you.

“Tyun…” You’re cut off by a passionate kiss. Your body denies your rational mind by returning the kiss. It’s nothing like your normal exchange. It’s heated, teeth clanging against each other, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth and fighting for complete dominance.

Clothes are torn from each of your bodies, no care given to the sounds of ripping fabric and buttons hitting the floor. Your sole focus is on each other.

“Up” he commands, grabbing at your hips. Taking his cue, you jump up, wrapping your legs around his waist. Nipping along your jaw, he leaves a stinging trail of red marks on your skin. You hiss when bites down harshly at the juncture of your shoulder. Continuing on his intended path, Taehyun attaches his mouth to one of your perky nipples, swirling his tongue around it before sucking.

The heels of your feet pressed into his lower back, bringing him closer to your core. His throbbing member slips through your folds, pressing against your clit. Focused on your own pleasure now, you repeat the action, grinding yourself against his cock.

“Stop it.” He growls out in response to your tempting actions. The head of his member prods against your sensitive bud as Taehyun ruts his hips unexpectedly. You yelp in surprise but don’t stop.

“You need to fucking listen. You never listen.”

“Fuck you.” You retort, smirking at him in defiance.

“That’s what I plan on doing to do you, sweetheart.”

Not waiting for your reply, Taehyun enters your wet core without warning causing you to throw your head back. Any advantage you thought you had is now gone as you succumb to the pleasure. As you sink on to his thick cock, Taehyun groans lowly, enjoying the feeling of your warm pussy that is so inviting to slip into.

“Gonna fuck you so good.”

You chuckle at his comment, knowing it will provoke him. And that’s just what it does. Without pulling out of you, Taehyun unwinds your legs from his waist and pushes them towards your chest by the knees. The new position gives him a new angle to hit and he begins to thrust into you without control. His pace is frenzied and brutal as he abuses your pussy.

Clawing at his shoulders, your first orgasm washes over you but he gives you no time to bask in it. Even as your core clenches around his member, he continues to fuck you senseless, pushing you through your first orgasm and works you close to a second.

Taehyun watches, fully mesmerized, as his member pumps in and out of you. His cock is slick with your wetness making it easier for him to push back in and keep his rhythm.

“So close. Don’t fucking stop,” You announce your impending orgasm to him, not that he needed you to tell him. He knows from the way your core pulses that you’re almost there. So is he; ready to spill his load into you. Pumping into you deeper, Taehyun’s cock hits the perfect spot, causing jolts of electricity to course throughout your lower half.

Your second orgasm rocks you so hard and you go limp in his arms. A few more thrusts and he followed right behind you. His cock throbs inside you as his cum coats your walls. Dropping his head to your shoulder, Tae’s heavy breaths fan over your heated skin, sending a chill through you.

After helping you to wrap your legs back around him, he carries you to your shared bed; laying you down gently. Climbing in next to you, he tugs you to his chest making sure you are tucked comfortably against him.

“I’m sorry, ya know. You’re a damn good girlfriend, Y/N. I know that. I just don’t want anyone to get distracted and end up hurt because of you. If that happens, they might not let you visit the building anymore and I don't want that to happen.”

With much of your frustration gone, you realize you may have been too hard on Taehyun. He cares about you and doesn't want anyone on his team to get hurt.

“I know. I just want you to make some time for me. Even if its one minute of your time. I miss you."

"I know baby, I know. I'll try and make at least 10 minutes for you on busy days, on free days we can go on the cute dates you told me about doing. I promise."